Captain Bill McDonald, Texas Ranger: A Story of Frontier Reform

by Albert Bigelow Paine

New Tactics in No-man's Land

A MAN WITH A BUCK-BOARD. HOLDING UP A BAD GANG SINGLE-HANDED

Something which resembled a sense of security began to manifest itself in Hardeman and the surrounding counties. There were still cattle thieves—plenty of them—but with their rendezvous in the immediate neighborhood broken up, their work became less deliberate. They harbored now further away—in the remoter places of the Pan-handle, in the Cherokee Strip and in the fastnesses of No-man's Land. From these strong-holds they made their raids, which though more sporadic and less devastating were still a vast nuisance, particularly along the border counties, where the outlaws could run over at night, raid a herd none too well guarded, and have the stolen cattle hidden in some gully or canyon or brake in their own lawless land by morning.

No-man's Land was a favorite retreat for cattle thieves. It was that strip of public land which was set down on the map as a part of Indian Territory, but really belonged to nobody at all. Different ones of the surrounding States claimed it, and the outlaws owned it, by possession and force of arms. There was no law there and few law abiding citizens. What there were, were hard to find, and they didn't want officers to stop with them for fear of the enmity of the thieves, who were so greatly in the majority. It was a fine, sightly land—with good grass and plenty of water—level land, some of it, though there was rough country there too—with good places for outlaws to hide. Here they built their dug-outs or cabins, established their households and herded their stolen stock. Some of the cattle they butchered, peddling the meat in Kansas or the Pan-handle. Some of the beef they had the nerve and assurance to drive to market—even to ship—openly, to Kansas City or Chicago.

It was necessary that No-man's Land should be reclaimed, and it was partly for this purpose that U.S. Marshal George A. Knight had commissioned Bill McDonald his deputy. Thus far all statutory law had been disregarded in No-man's Land—all officers had been defied. When, as had happened now and then, an officer had made his way into that wilderness, he either lost his life, or had his revolver and whisky and tobacco taken away from him and was booted back across the border. It had been demonstrated that Bill McDonald had a convincing way with his words and movements, and that he had a nose for locating cow thieves. Furthermore, it was believed that he would not be likely to submit to any liberties taken with his six-shooter and tobacco, or to indignities of any sort. So, when the Brookens and other established "dealers of the range" had been evicted from Hardeman and adjoining counties, it fell to Bill McDonald to begin the No-man's Land crusade.

He was working over in the Pan-handle in 1887 when he learned of a horse that had been stolen somewhere below, and he set out in pursuit of the thief. Such trail as he could find led straight for No-man's Land and he knew that he was bound at last for that lawless locality where U.S. deputy marshals were favorite victims.

He was alone, but this fact did not disturb him. He had always preferred to hunt in that way. There was less chance of frightening the game. When he reached Hutchinson County, which is in the second tier from the north Texas line, he stopped at Turkey Track Ranch and borrowed a buck-board in which to bring home his catch. It was still seventy-five miles to the No-man's Land line, but buck-boards were few in the Pan-handle in those days and this was likely to be the last chance to get one. It is possible that Turkey Track Ranch said good-by to that buck-board when he drove away, for while they had heard of Bill McDonald, they also knew of the usual fate of the U.S. deputy marshals who, with or without a buck-board, set out on an invasion of No-man's Land.

It was a long lonesome drive across Hutchinson and Hansford Counties, and up through No-man's Land, to the waters of Beaver Creek. The trail was not very difficult here, for the thief probably did not expect to be followed—certainly not farther than the border line, and had made little effort to cover his track. It was toward the end of the second or third day, at last, that the trail became very fresh, and the man in the buck-board came to a halt and set out on foot to locate his game. As silently and cautiously as an Indian he crept through the brush until he reached a place where peering through he located, some distance away on the river bank, a camp consisting of four men and the same number of horses. His man had found comrades, that was evident, and it was likely they would join in his defense. McDonald lay in the brush, watching them, as long as it was light and then crept closer, trying to identify the horse he was after, and which of the men had him in charge. He had no intention of beginning operations that night, for he had long since made up his mind that the proper time for a surprise attack is in the early morning. Men have not gathered themselves, then, and have not been awake long enough to be fearless, and quick of thought and action. His purpose now was to know his ground exactly, so that with daylight he could act with a clear understanding.

He was obliged to wait until daylight before he could be sure of his ground; then, awake and watching, he saw the different men go to look after their horses. He located a bay horse that answered to the description of the stolen animal, and identified the man who had him in charge. He crept back to his buck-board now, got in and drove up leisurely to the outlaw camp, looking as inoffensive and guileless as any other fly with a horse and buck-board, driving straight into the spider's den.

"Good-morning, boys," he said pleasantly, "you-all look mighty comfortable with that fire going. I lost my way and laid out last night. Mebbe you-all can tell me something about the trails around here. There don't seem to be none that I can find."