Chapter V: The Beginning of Reform

SUBDUING A BAD MAN. FIRST OFFICIAL APPOINTMENT. A DEPUTY WHO DID THINGS. "BILL" MCDONALD AND "JIM" HOGG

But now came Bill McDonald's first official appointment and service. Living just outside of Mineola was a man named Golden, alias George Gordon, of hard character, and the owner of several bulldogs, similarly endowed. Man and dogs became a menace to travel in that neighborhood, as they lived near a public road and were allowed at large. The man was particularly quarrelsome and ugly and was said to have killed several more or less inoffensive persons. He always carried arms--the customary pistol, and a bowie knife--the latter worn in a scabbard "down his back." He was an expert at throwing this weapon, and altogether a terror to the community. Bill McDonald would naturally resent the domination of a man like Gordon, and when one day the latter came to town with one of his unruly bulldogs, and the dog set upon and injured McDonald's prized pointer, there was trouble, active and immediate. McDonald's reputation as a good man to let alone was already established at Mineola. He was known as a capable marksman--fearless, resolute and very sudden. When, therefore, he produced a six-shooter for the avowed purpose of killing the bulldog, its master, who, like every bully by trade, was a coward at heart, interceded humbly for the dog's life, promising to take the animal home and leave him there. McDonald agreed to the arrangement, but for the benefit of the community at large he promptly applied to Sheriff Pete Dowell for a commission as deputy, in order that in future he might restrain officially the obnoxious Gordon and others of his kind. The commission was promptly conferred, and thus Bill Jess McDonald, quietly and without any special manifest, stepped into the ranks of Texas official regulators, where, in one capacity or another, he was to serve so long and well.

But, however quiet his enlistment, his service was to be of another sort. Those were not quiet days, and the officer who set out to enforce the law was apt to become a busy person. Gordon very soon appeared again in Mineola, and after investing in a good deal of bad whisky, went on the war-path, flourishing a six-shooter and giving out the information that nobody could arrest him. He was in the very midst of a militant harangue when Deputy McDonald suddenly appeared on the scene, and before Gordon could gather himself, he was, by some magic "twist of the wrist," disarmed, arrested and on the way to the calaboose. He demurred and resisted, but slept that night behind lock and bars. Next morning he refused breakfast and demanded release. Deputy McDonald left him in a mixed condition of reflection and profanity, returning at noon to find him sober, subdued and hungry. Upon promise of good behavior for the future, he was taken before a justice, where he pled guilty and paid a fine. Then he took his place as the first example of a long line of wonderful cures set down to Captain Bill McDonald's credit, to-day; for he gave little trouble after that and remained mostly in retirement, to be set upon, at last, by his own dogs, who inflicted terrible wounds. His death soon afterward was thought to be the result of this attack.

But the Gordon experience was mild enough, after all, compared with the many which followed, and is only set down because it marks the beginning of a career. Indeed, an episode of larger proportions was already under way. In the timber lying adjacent to Mineola, some three hundred tie-cutters were encamped, supplying cross-ties for the I. & G.N. road. They were a drinking, lawless lot, and on Saturday nights the Mineola streets were filled with riot and disorder. The city marshal, George Reeves, and Deputy McDonald had on several occasions made arrests and such enforcement of the law had been regarded by the tie-gang as an affront to all. They sent word to the officers, at last, that they would be on hand in full force, on the following Saturday, and that the calaboose might as well go out of commission, so far as they were concerned.

Saturday night came, and according to promise the tie-cutters were on the street, numerous and noisy. McDonald and Reeves were among them, keeping a general lookout for trouble, not always together. The saloons were full, presently, and the men getting constantly more noisy and quarrelsome. Seeing a commotion at the rear of a cheap hotel where a number of the men had gathered, McDonald went over there, and found Reeves surrounded. Without hesitation he shoved a way through, with his pistol, until he stood by Reeves's side. Reeves had arrested a man, and a general riot was imminent. The prisoner was very drunk and disorderly and demanding that he be allowed to go to his room before accompanying the officer. Of course the whole intention was to precipitate a general fight, during which the officers were to be pummeled and battered to a jelly. Catching the drift of matters, McDonald said:

"All right, take him to his room, if he's got one. I'll take care of this crowd."

There was something in the business-like confidence of that statement which impressed the crowd. And then he had such a handy way of holding a six-shooter. Nobody quite wanted to die first, and Reeves started for the back entrance of the hotel with his man. As they entered the door the fellow reeled against the casing and fell to the ground. Then a general stampede started, for it was called out that Reeves had struck him. McDonald said:

"Stop you fellers! The fool fell down. I'll shoot the first man that interferes!"

That was another discouraging statement from a man who had a habit of keeping his word. It seemed to the crowd that an officer like that didn't play fair. He didn't argue at all. Somebody was likely to get hurt, if they didn't get that gun away from him. Movements to this end were started here and there, but they didn't get near enough to the chief actor to be effective. Finally when Reeves and his prisoner set out for the calaboose, the crowd moved in that direction, timing their steps to a chorus of threats and profanity. Reeves and McDonald made no reply until they arrived at the lockup; then, the disturbers being there handy, the officers began gathering them in, a dozen at a time. It was a genuine surprise-party for the tie-men. They were too much astonished for any concerted movement, and when invited at the points of those guns to step inside and make themselves at home, they did not have the bad taste to refuse.

"Step in, gentlemen; always room for one more," might have been the form of the invitation, but it wasn't. It was a Bill McDonald invitation and it was full of compliments and promises that burnt holes wherever they hit anything. The calaboose was full in a brief time and a box-car on a nearby switch was used as an annex. By the time it was full, there were no more disturbers. The outer edges had melted away. The woods were full of them. The turbulent tie-men of Texas were sober and sensible by Monday morning and allowed to go, under promise of good behavior, and upon payment of adequate fines.

Mineola suddenly became a moral town. Amusements of the old sort languished. Drunk or sober, it was humiliating to flourish a gun, only to be suddenly disarmed and marched to the calaboose by a man who acted as if he thought he was gun-proof. It was hard to understand--it was supernatural. It was better to go to the next town to nourish the gun.

But by this time Deputy Bill Jess was not satisfied with the quiet life. He had found his proper vocation--that of active enforcement of the law--and he was moved to pursue it in remoter places. A certain desperate outlaw, a white man by the name of Jim Bean, had committed crimes in Smith County, whence he had escaped to Kansas. There he had killed a city marshal and returned once more to Smith County, which adjoins Wood on the south. The officers of Smith County had surprised Jim Bean and his brother Ed, at a small station where they had gone to rob some freight cars, but the two men had handled their revolvers so desperately that they had been allowed to escape, and pursuit of them had been abandoned.

This was the kind of game that Deputy Bill always enjoyed hunting. It was worth while. He made frequent still-hunts along the Sabine River, the dividing line between Wood and Smith, hoping to locate his quarry on the side of his jurisdiction. Perhaps the men knew of these excursions and remained safely, as they believed, on the other side. At last, however, the temptation to cross the line became too strong for a hunter like Bill Jess. The impulse of the Ranger was already upon him. He crossed the Sabine River into Smith, with his Winchester on his saddle, and became an official poacher. The river bottom was overgrown in places with tall cane-brake, and he had reason to believe that the Beans were hiding, and storing their loot, in the dense growth. He had heard a rumor, too, that a certain family of swamp-dwellers (negroes) were in league with the men, and, reflecting on the matter, he concluded to visit this house, both for the purpose of investigation, and to borrow a shot-gun, which he thought might be more useful, in a man-chase through a thick cane-brake swamp, than his rifle. Arriving at the suspected house, he told in his mildest manner a tale of a wounded deer not far away, and borrowed a shot-gun, as well as the information that the men and dogs of the place were in the brakes. He now began a careful still-hunt for his game, and presently came full upon Jim Bean, who was on a horse, with a shot-gun, guarding some stolen hogs. Bean was a great burly creature, more animal than man, from having lived and slept so long in the woods and brakes. He had been shot at many times, and had been desperately wounded, but such was his natural vitality, and so hardened was he by exposure that it seemed impossible to kill him.

Before Bean could move, now, Deputy McDonald had him covered and commanded him to get off his horse or he would shoot him dead. Bean obeyed and McDonald threw his own leg over his saddle and slid to the ground, still covering Bean with his gun. Suddenly Bean made a dash for a large tree, turning to shoot just as he reached this cover. McDonald was too quick, however, and let go with two loads of buckshot, which struck Bean in several places, knocking him down. He then made off in the direction of a slough, toward thick hiding. The shot-gun was a muzzle loader and before McDonald could get it charged again he heard somebody coming through the brush. It was Ed Bean and some negroes. He was ready for them by the time they came in sight, and throwing his gun to position he commanded them to halt. Instead of doing so they turned and disappeared in the direction from which they had come. McDonald now mounted his horse and started in pursuit of the wounded Jim Bean. He found where he had crossed the slough, and presently came to the desperado's gun, which had been thrown away in his hurry. Blood-stains made the trail easy to follow. Soon a powder-horn and then a pair of boots lay in the path of flight. McDonald followed six miles to a cabin occupied by negroes. Bean was not in the cabin, but barefoot prints led into the woods. The man-hunter followed them and finally overtook their owner. It was not Bean. The officer had been tricked--Bean had escaped while his pursuer had been following this false lead. It was dark, now, and further search was hopeless. Next morning the outlaws had vanished from the country. They never returned and were heard of no more until some time after, when news came from Wise County that both the Bean brothers had been killed, resisting arrest.

While this episode did not turn out altogether successfully, inasmuch as the game got away, it had a better result in that it effected a complete reconciliation between McDonald and his old, and what was to be his lifetime friend, James S. Hogg. Certain jealous officials were bent upon making trouble for the young deputy for overstepping his authority by working outside of his own county, and especially for shooting a man in attempting an illegal arrest. McDonald held that the conditions justified his act, and was going to make his fight on that ground. But it never came to a fight, for when the matter was brought to the notice of the grand jury, Hogg, by this time District Attorney, went before that body, and regardless of the old animosity between McDonald and himself, and of the fact that they were not yet on speaking terms, declared that if the jury found an indictment against the deputy for so worthy an undertaking as that which, irregular or not, had resulted in ridding the country of a gang of outlaws, he would _nolle pros_ the case--in other words, he would refuse to prosecute.

When McDonald heard of this, he went to his old friend at once.

"Jim," he said, "you're a gentleman, and I know I want to act right. Let's not be enemies any more." And they never were.

Ten years later, Jim Hogg, as Governor of Texas, would make it possible for Bill McDonald to bring down criminals in any county of that mighty State. But this is further along in our story.