Hardeman County was a tough locality in the early eighties. It had lately been organized, and the settlers were cow-men, cowboys and gamblers—lawless enough, themselves—and another element, which pretended to be these things, but in reality consisted of outlaws, pure and simple. The latter lived chiefly off of the herds, driving off horses and cattle and hiding them in remote and inaccessible places. Often cattle were butchered; their hides, which were marked with brand and ear-marks were destroyed to avoid identification, and the meat was sold. Men who did these things were known well enough, but went unapprehended for the reasons named. In certain sections of the Territory itself and in No-man's Land (a piece of disputed ground lying to the north of the Pan-handle, now a part of Oklahoma) matters were even worse. In these places there was hardly a semblance of law. Certainly the need of active reform—of an official crusader, without fear and above reproach—was both wide and vociferous.
Reforming the Wilderness
THE KIND OF MEN TO BE REFORMED. EARLY REFORMS IN QUANAH. BAD MEN MEET THEIR MATCH
It was in 1885 that Bill McDonald disposed of his lumber interests in Wichita Falls and at Harrold, reinvested in cattle and set out once more for the still farther west. He had filed on some school-land on Wanderer's Creek in Hardeman County, about four miles from where the town of Quanah now stands, and in the heart of what was then the wilderness. Somewhat previous to this, McDonald, whose reputation as a man of nerve had traveled to Harrold, was one night called upon by Ranger Lieutenant Sam Platt to assist in handling a gang of outlaws, known as the Brooken Band, that infested the neighborhood. The Brookens had ridden into Harrold and were running things in pretty much their own way. Platt and McDonald promptly bore down upon them and a running fight ensued as the Brookens retreated. About one hundred shots were fired altogether, but it was dark and the range was too great for accuracy. Nothing was accomplished, but the event marked the beginning of a warfare between Bill McDonald and a band of cut-throats, the end of which would be history. It was soon after this first skirmish that McDonald sold out his lumber business and set out for his Hardeman County ranch. As on his former migration he drove his cattle to the new land, and after the first hard day's drive, camped at nightfall in a pleasant spot where grass was plentiful and water handy. It seemed a good place, and man and beast gladly halted for food and rest.
But next morning there was trouble. When preparations for an early start were under headway, it was suddenly discovered that four of the best horses and a fine Newfoundland dog were missing. Investigation of the surrounding country was made, and two of the horses were found astray, evidently having broken loose from their captors. It was further discovered that the Brooken Band had a rendezvous in what was known as the Cedar-brakes, a stretch of rough country, densely covered with scrubby cedar, located about twelve miles to the south westward. McDonald naturally felt that it was again his "move" in the Brooken game, but it did not seem expedient to stop the journey with the herd and undertake the move, just then, so biding his time he pushed on, to his land on Wanderer's Creek, where he established his ranch, fenced his property, built a habitation for himself and the wife who was always ready to follow him into the wilderness; then he rode over to Margaret, at that time the county-seat, and asked Sheriff Jim Alley—a good man with his hands over full—to appoint him deputy that he might begin the work which clearly must be done in that country before it could become a proper habitation for law abiding citizens. The commission was readily granted, and from that appointment dates "that tired feeling" which the bad men of Texas began to have when they heard the sound of Bill McDonald's name.
Another word as to the kind of men with which an officer in those days had to deal. They were not ordinary malefactors, but choice selections from the world at large. "What was your name before you came to Texas?" was a common inquiry in those earlier days, and it was often added that a man could go to Texas when he couldn't go anywhere else. It was such a big State, with so many remote fastnesses, so many easy escapes across the borders. It was the natural last resort of men who could not live elsewhere with safety or profit. There is a story of a man arrested in Texas in those days for some misdemeanor, who was advised by his lawyer to leave the State without delay.
"But where shall I go?" asked the troubled offender, "I'm in Texas, now."