Chapter XXI: The Battle with Matthews

WHAT HAPPENED TO A MAN WHO HAD DECIDED TO KILL BILL MCDONALD

It was strange, indeed, that McDonald did not "happen to get killed" in those busy days of the early nineties. One of the favorite vows of tough "pan-handlers" was to shoot Bill McDonald on sight. But the reader will remember that there was a suddenness and vigor about Bill McDonald's manner and method that was very bad for a vow like that when the moment for its execution arrived. Still, there were those who tried to make good, and one of these, duly assisted, came near being successful. He would have succeeded, no doubt, if he had had time.

This man's name was John Pierce Matthews, which became simply John Pierce after its owner had got the drop on a steamboat captain one day in Louisiana and shot him dead. He took the new name with him to the Pan-handle, where in due time he got the drop on another man, somewhere up in the northern tier of counties, with the same result. This was a good while before he came down to Childress County and got to be sheriff, but there were those who had not forgotten, and among them was Captain Bill McDonald, then stopping at Wichita Falls. Matthews, or Pierce, as he was called, frequently came down to the Falls for a spree, and on one such visit made application to join a secret society. McDonald was a prominent member of that society and Matthews did not get in. This stirred the animosity of Matthews, and he began to clean his six-shooter daily and to practise sudden and accurate firing, which he knew would be necessary in case of a show-down.

By and by there was a sheriff's convention at Houston, and on a boat excursion between Houston and Galveston, Matthews spoke disrespectfully to Governor Hogg, who was on board. McDonald, who was also present, promptly called Matthews to account, and a general settlement might have been reached then and there had well-meaning, but misguided friends of both parties not interfered, and spoiled a very pretty sheriff's-picnic newspaper story. As it was, Matthews kept on oiling his pistol and practising, meantime enlisting the sympathy of friends, to whom he confided that some day when he had a little leisure he was going to look up Bill McDonald and kill him, suggesting that they be present and take a hand; _they_ being of the sort naturally interested in such an enterprise.

Matthews also had another enemy, one Joe Beckham, sheriff of Motley County, an officer of his own kind, who presently got as short as possible in his accounts, absconded, and set out for Indian Territory. Matthew had no right to go outside of his own county after a fugitive, and no business in this matter, any way, as he wanted Beckham only for a misdemeanor, whereas he was charged in his own county with felony. But Matthews had an itch for Beckham on his own account, so he picked up another enemy of Beckham, named Cook, a citizen of Motley with an ambition for Beckham's office, and the two came with peaceful attitude and fair words to Quanah where Captain Bill was then stopping, requesting the loan of a Ranger to go over into the Territory after the defaulting officer. McDonald refused, but said he would send a man as far as the Territory line--Ranger authority not extending beyond that border. He did send one Ranger McClure, who being strongly persuaded, overstepped, at the same instant, his authority and the State line; captured Beckham, whom he lost through a writ of habeas corpus; fell into a plot devised by Matthews and Cook to get rid of him, and was finally brought back to Quanah by Captain Bill, who drove a hundred miles on a bad night to get him out of the mess; after which McClure was a wiser and better Ranger.

Beckham, meanwhile, had fallen a victim to remorse, or more likely had been promised immunity, and now hurried over to Quanah and gave himself up again to Ranger McClure, Captain Bill being absent from Quanah at the time. Beckham asked to be taken to Matador, county seat of Motley, for trial, and begged McClure to see him through Childress, where he expected to be killed by Matthews and Cook.

McClure assured Beckham that he would see him safely to Matador, and they set out by rail for Childress, at which point they would take a team for the Motley county seat.

Matthews was on hand at Childress. He demanded Beckham of McClure, who refused to deliver his prisoner. Matthews then started to organize a posse to take Beckham. Word of this came to McClure who promptly gave his prisoner a revolver and told him to help defend himself. Matthews and his crowd now tried to enlist the co-operation of Sheriff Cunningham of Abilene who, as soon as he understood the situation, resigned from the Matthews force and offered to assist the McClure contingent. McClure thanked him, but said he guessed he'd go along to Matador, now, with his prisoner, as the team was waiting. Captain Bill was in Matador when Ranger and prisoner arrived, and Beckham was jailed without further difficulty. Cook got appointed sheriff, by the Commissioners' Court, but the District Judge refused to accept him and selected a man named Moses for the job, whereupon Cook refused to resign and Captain Bill was sent over to turn him out, which he did with promptness and vigor. On his way back to Quanah, waiting for a train in Childress, Matthews appeared and demanded that McDonald dismiss Ranger McClure on general charges connected with the Beckham episode. McDonald mildly but firmly refused and spoke his mind pretty freely on the subject. All of which added fuel to the old resentment which Matthews nursed and nourished in his bosom for Captain Bill.

If Matthews wanted to commit suicide he began preparing for it, now, in the right way. He gave it out openly that he was going to wander over to Quanah some day and kill Bill McDonald, just as a matter of pastime, and he sent word to the same effect by any of Captain Bill's friends that he found going that way. Perhaps he thought these messages of impending death would unnerve the Ranger Captain and interfere with his sleep. That was bad judgment. Bill McDonald needed only the anticipation of a little pistol practice like that to make him sleep like an angel child.

"I didn't talk as loud as he did--nor as much," Captain Bill said afterward. "I reckon he thought I was afraid of him."

Matthews had really cut the work out for himself, however, and had enlisted help for the occasion. He was satisfied with his target practice and the condition of his fire-arms, and he had taken to wearing a plug of tobacco or a Bible or something solid like that in the coat-pocket just over his heart, about where one of Bill McDonald's bullets would be apt to strike, provided the Ranger happened to get a bead on him, though he had planned against that, too.

It was in December, 1895, at last that Matthews and his pals came down to Quanah for the declared purpose of killing a Ranger Captain. It was a cold, dreary day and they visited one saloon after another, getting a supply of courage for the job and explaining what they were going to do. Then they took to following McDonald, always in a group, evidently waiting the proper opportunity, confident enough that McDonald would not take the offensive. Finally, however, they pressed him so close that he suddenly turned and told them to quit following him or trouble would ensue. Perhaps it did not seem a good place to do the job--there being no sort of protection; perhaps there was something disquieting in the manner of Captain Bill's warning. They dropped away, for the time, and McDonald gave the matter no further thought. Men threatening to kill him was an item on every day's program.

It was nearly dusk of that bleak day, and McDonald was in the railway station, sending an official telegram to his men at Amarillo, when an old man named Crutcher, whom McDonald knew, came in with the word that Matthews wanted to see him and fix up matters without any more trouble.

Captain Bill regarded Crutcher keenly; evidently he was sincere enough.

"John says he wants to see you and fix up everything right," repeated the old man persuasively.

Captain Bill finished writing his telegram and sent it. Then turning to Old Man Crutcher he said in his slow mild way:

"Well, that all sounds mighty good to me. I never want any trouble that I can help. Come on, let's go find him."

They left the depot on the side toward the town, and as they did so they saw the sheriff of Hardeman County, whose name was Dick Coffer, with Matthews and two of the latter's friends, coming to meet them. Sheriff Coffer was a step ahead of Matthews when they started across the street. Old Man Crutcher in a friendly way put his arm through McDonald's as they advanced. When they were but four or five feet between the groups, all stopped and there was a little silence.

Then McDonald said:

"Well?"

And Matthews answered, keeping Coffer just a trifle in advance:

"Well, what is it, Bill?"

Captain Bill began quietly.

"I understand," he said, "that you have been saying some pretty hard things about me, and that you-all are going to wipe up the earth with me. Is that so?"

Matthews edged a trifle nearer to Coffer.

"No," he said, "I didn't say that, but by God I'll tell you what I did say," at the same moment pointing his left index finger in McDonald's face, while his right hand slipped in the direction of his hip pocket.

Captain Bill saw the movement and his own hand dropped into his side overcoat pocket where in winter he carried a part of his armament. Matthews' practice in drawing, for some reason failed to benefit him. His gun seemed to hang a little in the scabbard. A second later he had jerked it free and stepping behind Coffer fired at Captain Bill over the sheriff's right shoulder. But the slight hitch spoiled his aim, perhaps, for the bullet missed, passing through McDonald's overcoat collar, though the range was so short that the powder burned his face.

The game could now be considered open. Captain Bill with a quick movement that was between a skip and a step, got around Coffer and let go two shots in quick succession, at Matthews. But the latter's breast-piece was a success. Both of McDonald's bullets struck within the space of a fifty-cent piece, just above Matthews' heart, penetrated a thick plug of Star Navy, found a heavy note-book behind it and stopped.

With a thought process which may be regarded as cool for such a moment, Captain Bill realized that for some reason he could not kill Matthews by shooting him on that side, and shifted his aim. Matthews, meantime, had again dodged behind Coffer, who now dropped flat to the ground, where it was quieter. Captain Bill was bending forward at the time, trying to get a shot around Coffer, and as the latter dropped, Matthews fired, the bullet striking McDonald in the left shoulder, ranging down through his lung to the small of his back, traveling two-thirds the length of his body for lodgment.

"He started to cock his gun, when he received another ball in his right shoulder."]

The Ranger was knocked backward, but did not fall. Matthews quickly fired again, but McDonald was near enough now to knock the gun aside with his own, and the ball passed through his hat-brim. Aiming at Matthews' other shoulder, McDonald let go his third shot and Matthews fell.

Meantime the two deputy assassins had opened fire, and one of them had sent two bullets through McDonald's left arm. To these he gave no attention until Matthews dropped. Wheeling now he started to cock his gun, when he received another ball, this time in his right shoulder, along which it traveled to his neck, thence around the wind-pipe to the left side. His fingers were paralyzed by this wound and he made an effort to cock his gun with his teeth; but there was no further need, for with the collapse of Matthews his co-murderers fled wildly to cover, behind the depot, nearly upsetting a box-car in their hurry, as a spectator remarked.

Captain Bill walked a few steps to the side-walk. There was a post there, and holding to this he eased himself to a sitting position. A man ran up to him.

"Cap, how about it?"

"Well, I think I'm a dead rabbit."

They gathered him up and took him to a drug-store, and they took Matthews to a drug-store across the street. By and by they carried Captain Bill home and a doctor came to hunt for the bullets.

"Don't fool around with that one in my neck, Doc," Captain Bill said. "Go after the one in the small of my back, and let out the blood. There's a bucket of it sloshin' around in there."

The doctor obeyed orders. It was proper to gratify a dying man.

"Now, Doc," the Ranger Captain said when the operation was over, and the surplus cargo had been removed, "now, I'll get well," and Rhoda McDonald, his nervy wife, who had arrived on the scene, echoed this belief.

"If Bill Jess says he'll get well, he'll do it!" she declared.

But this was a minority opinion, and that night when it was rumored that Captain Bill would not pull through, there were threats that in case he didn't, the two men who had trained with Matthews would be strung up without further notice. Some word of this was brought to Captain Bill, perhaps as a message of comfort.

"Don't you do it, boys," he said. "I'm going to get well, and even if I don't, I want the law to take its course. I'm opposed to lynching."

Matthews died in a few days. He was removed to Childress and died there. Before his death he sent word to McDonald.

"You acted the man all through," was his message. "I'm only sorry that I can't see you and apologize."

"Tell him that I'm doing all right," was the answer returned, "and that I hope he'll get well."

The mending of Captain Bill was a slow process. For about two months he was laid up, and then with his wife he sojourned for a time at a sanitarium. After that, he was up once more, pale and stooped but ready and eager for action. In time he was apparently as fit as ever; though, in truth, the physical repairing was never quite complete.