The inquest, being held in such a public place, attracted a crowd of onlookers. Besides the rangers, Marshal Stoudenmire, ex-Marshal Campbell, and Bill Johnson were present. A man named Gus Krempkau acted as interpreter. The trial dragged along until the noon hour and the proceedings were adjourned for dinner. The rangers went at once to their quarters to prepare their meal, though there was still a crowd standing about the scene of the inquest. Krempkau came out of the room and was accosted by John Hale, who had become offended at the way the interpreter had interpreted the evidence. After a few hot words Hale quickly pulled his pistol and shot Krempkau through the head, killing him instantly. Marshal Stoudenmire ran up, shot at Hale but missing him killed a Mexican bystander. At the second shot from the marshal's pistol John Hale fell dead. George Campbell had pulled his pistol and was backing off across the street when Stoudenmire suddenly turned and shot him down. Four men were thus killed almost within the twinkling of an eye.
Stoudenmire was held blameless by the better class of citizens for the part he had played, but a certain sporting element—mostly friends of Campbell—was highly indignant at Marshal Stoudenmire for killing Campbell, and declared the latter had been murdered. The Manning Brothers were especially bitter against the marshal, as he had killed their ranch foreman, Hale, and their friend, Campbell. This feeling against Marshal Stoudenmire never subsided, and just a little more than one year after, Dallas Stoudenmire was shot and killed in a street fight by Jim and Dr. Manning within fifty feet of the spot where Stoudenmire himself had killed the three men the year before.
The friends of George Campbell now sought to take the life of Marshal Stoudenmire, and they used as their instrument Bill Johnson, a man almost simple mentally. The plotters furnished Johnson with plenty of free whisky and when they had made him drunk they told him Stoudenmire had no right to catch him in the collar and shake him as if he were a cur dog. Johnson finally agreed to kill the marshal. Armed with a double-barreled shotgun the tool of the plotters took up a position one night behind a pile of bricks in San Antonio Street where it enters El Paso and lay in wait for his intended victim.
Marshal Stoudenmire was then down at Neal Nuland's Acme saloon, and it was well known he would soon make his round up the street. Shortly afterward he was seen coming, and when he had approached within twenty-five feet of the brick pile Bill Johnson rose to his feet and fired both barrels of his shotgun. Unsteady with drink, Johnson's fire went over the marshal's head and left him unharmed. The marshal pulled his pistol and with lightning rapidity filled Johnson's body full of holes. At the same moment Campbell's friends, posted on the opposite side of the street, opened fire on Stoudenmire and slightly wounded him in one foot, but the marshal charged his attackers and single-handed put them to flight.
From this day Marshal Stoudenmire had the roughs of El Paso eating out of his hand. There was no longer any necessity for the rangers to help him police the town and they were withdrawn. Stoudenmire's presence on the streets was a guarantee of order and good government. He was a good man for the class of people he had to deal with, yet he knew there were those in El Paso that were his bitter enemies and always on the alert for a chance to take his life. This caused him to drink, and when under the influence of liquor he became mean and overbearing to some of his most ardent supporters, so much so that by the spring of 1882 he was asked to resign. In a dramatic and fiery speech Stoudenmire presented his resignation and declared he had not been treated fairly by the City Council and that he could straddle them all.
Immediately on leaving the rangers, as narrated at the close of the preceding chapter, I accepted a position of captain of guards on the Santa Fe Railroad under my friend, Captain Thatcher. I did not long remain in the railroad's employ, and after a few months I resigned my position there to become assistant city marshal under Mr. Stoudenmire.
Upon the resignation of Mr. Stoudenmire I was appointed city marshal of El Paso. Upon my appointment the ex-marshal walked over, took me by the hand and said, "Young man, I congratulate you on being elected city marshal and at the same time I wish to warn you that you have more than a man's size job on your hands."
Stoudenmire at once secured the appointment as United States deputy marshal of the Western District of Texas with headquarters at El Paso. Stoudenmire always treated me with the greatest consideration and courtesy and gave me trouble on only one occasion. I reproduce here a clipping from an El Paso paper of the time:
"Last Thursday night a shooting scrape in which ex-Marshal Stoudenmire and ex-Deputy Page played the leading parts occurred at the Acme saloon. It seems that early in the evening Page had a misunderstanding with Billy Bell. Stoudenmire acted as peacemaker in the matter. In doing so he carried Page to Doyle's concert hall, where the two remained an hour or so and got more or less intoxicated. About midnight they returned to the Acme and soon got into a quarrel. Stoudenmire drew his pistol and fired at Page; the latter, however, knocked the weapon upward and the ball went into the ceiling. Page then wrenched the pistol from Stoudenmire and the latter drew a second pistol and the two combatants were about to perforate each other when Marshal Gillett appeared on the premises with a double-barrel shotgun and corralled both of them. They were taken before court the following morning and fined $25 each and Stoudenmire was placed under bond in the sum of $250 to keep the peace."
My election to the marshalship of El Paso I attribute solely to my training as a ranger and to the notoriety my kidnapping of Baca out of Mexico had given me, so that the marshalship of the town was one of the direct fruits of my ranger service.