At Eagle Springs, as good luck would have it, Captain Baylor learned that Lieutenant Nevill andnine men had just gone toward Quitman to look for him. As soon as Lieutenant Nevill returned to the Springs he informed Baylor that he had seen the trail six miles east of Eagle Springs and that it led toward the Carrizo Springs or Diablo Mountains.
Captain Baylor's rations were out and Lieutenant Nevill had only supplies enough to do the combined force five days, but the two commanders trusted either to catch the Indians or get in striking distance of the Pecos settlements within that time. The Apaches made pretty good time across the plain in front of Eagle Springs, and did not seem to recover from their scare until they reached the Diablo Mountains. Here they killed and cooked meat from one horse and obtained water by melting snow with hot rocks.
The trail led northward by Chili Peak, a noted landmark to be seen from Eagle Station. Here the rangers quit the trail and went into the Diablo Mountains to camp at Apache Tanks, where General Grierson cut off Victorio from the Guadalupe Mountains the summer before. Next morning Captain Baylor followed the trail north and camped on the brow of cliffs overlooking Rattlesnake Springs. The sign now led to the edge of the Sierra Diablo, where the Indians camped and slept for the firsttime since leaving Eagle Mountains. They were still watchful, as they were near a most horrible looking canyon down which they could have disappeared had the scouting party come upon them. Their next camp was about ten miles farther on, and Captain Baylor saw they were getting more careless about camping. On the 28th he came across another horse and fire where the Apaches had eaten some meat. The leg of the horse was not yet stiff and blood dropped from one when picked up. The chase was getting to be exciting, and Captain Baylor and his men felt their chance to avenge the many outrages committed by this band was now near at hand.
The trail led off north as though the redskins were going toward the Cornudos in New Mexico, but turned east and entered Sierra Diablo Mountains. In a narrow gorge the rangers found where the Indians had eaten dinner, using snow to quench their thirst, but their horses had no water. From this camp the Apaches made for the cliffs on the northeast side of Devil Mountains. The scouting party now felt the Indians were nearby, as they were nearly all afoot. The danger of being discovered if they passed over the hills during the daylight was so apparent that the rangers decided to make a dry camp and pass the mountain's browbefore day the next morning. All the signs were good for a surprise; the trail was not over two hours old, and a flock of doves passing overhead going in the direction of the trail showed that water was nearby.
The morning of the 29th of January the party was awakened by the guard, and passed over the mountain's brow before daylight. There was some difficulty in picking up the trail, though Captain Baylor, Lieutenant Nevill and the Pueblo trailers had been up the evening before spying out the land. By stooping down with their faces close to the ground the Pueblos got the trail leading north along the crest of the mountains. Soon the Indian guides said in low voices: "Hoy esta los Indias." And Captain Baylor perceived the Apaches' camp fires not over half a mile distant.
Leaving a guard of five men with the horses the rangers advanced stealthily on foot. By taking advantage of the crest of the mountain they crept within two hundred yards of the camp, supposing the Indians were camped on the western slope of the hill. The Apaches, however, were cautious enough to put one tepee on the eastern slope overlooking the valley and the approaches from that direction. Captain Baylor thereupon ordered Sergeant Carruthers of Lieutenant Nevill's company totake seven men and make a detour to the left and attack that wigwam while Lieutenant Nevill and himself with seventeen men advanced on the eastern camp. Sheltering themselves behind some large Spanish dagger plants and advancing in Indian file the attackers got within one hundred yards of the enemy, who was apparently just out of bed, for it was then sunrise. Halting the men deployed to the right and left and then, kneeling, the rangers gave the astonished Indians a deliberate volley. At the second fusillade the Apaches broke and fled, the rangers charging the flying foe with a Texas yell.
Sergeant Carruthers executed his orders in gallant style. The Apaches on his side, alarmed and surprised by the fire of Captain Baylor's force, huddled together and three were killed within twenty yards of their camp fire. The redskins ran like deer and made no resistance, for it was each man for himself. Nevertheless, as they fled they were thickly peppered, as there were but two or three out of the party of sixteen or eighteen but left blood along their trail as they ran off.
One Indian the rangers named Big Foot (from his enormous track) ran up the mountain in full view for four hundred yards, and not less than two hundred shots were fired at him, but he passed over the hill. Sergeant Carruthers and several menpursued the fugitive for a mile and a half and found plenty of blood all the way. Another warrior was knocked down and lay as though dead for some time, but finally regained his feet and made two-forty time over the hills with a running accompaniment of Springfield and Winchester balls. One brave stood his ground manfully, principally because he got the gable end of his head shot off early in the action.
Of course the women were the principal sufferers. As it was a bitterly cold, windy morning and all ran off with blankets about them few of the rangers could tell braves from squaws, and in the confusion of battle two women were killed and one mortally wounded. Two children were killed and a third shot through the foot. One squaw with three bullets in her hand and two children were captured. Seven mules and nine horses, two Winchester rifles, one Remington carbine, one United States cavalry pistol and one .40 double action Colt's, six United States cavalry saddles taken from the troops killed at Ojo Calienta and some women's and children's clothing, American made,—evidently those of Mrs. Graham,—a Mexican saddle with a bullet hole in it and fresh blood thereon and over a hundred and fifty yards of new calico fell as spoil to the victors. All the Indians' camp equipage was burned.
The victorious rangers breakfasted on the battleground, as they had eaten nothing since dinner the day before. Some of the men found horse meat good, while others feasted on venison and roasted mescal. The band of scouts could not remain long at this camp for water was very scarce. They had forty head of stock to care for, and the Indians, in their flight, ran through the largest pool of water and liberally dyed it with their blood, and as none of the men were bloodthirsty enough to use this for making coffee or bread they were short of water. However, the rangers found enough pure good water for their use but the horses had to wait until the force reached Apache Tanks, thirty miles distant. This scarcity of water made it impossible to remain at this Apache camp, otherwise Captain Baylor could have added three or four scalps to his trophies. The return march was begun, and at Eagle Station Lieutenant Nevill and Captain Baylor separated. The captured squaw and the two children were sent to Fort Davis to be turned over to the post commander for medical attention, for the rangers had neither a surgeon nor a hospital.
On their return from the battle of the Diablos, Captain Baylor's Pueblo Indian scouts, Chief Bernado Olgin, Domingo Olgin, and Aneseta Duran, suddenly halted about one mile from Ysleta, unsaddled and unbridled their tired little ponies and went into camp. This was their custom after a successful campaign against their Apache enemies so that their comrades might come out and do honor to the returning heroes. For three days and nights a feast and a scalp dance was held by the whole of the Pueblo tribe of Ysleta. They feasted, wined and dined their returning warriors and invited the rangers to the festivities. The boys all went and reported they had a fine time generally. This celebration was the last scalp dance the Pueblo Indians ever had, for the destruction of the Apaches in the Diablos exterminated the wild Indians and there were no more of them to scalp.
CHAPTER XVIII
AN INTERNATIONAL EPISODE
The American citizens of Socorro, New Mexico, during Christmas week of 1881, held a church festival, and Mr. A.M. Conklin, editor of the "Socorro Sun," was conducting the exercises. Abran and Enofrio Baca appeared at the church under the influence of liquor. Their talk and actions so disturbed the entertainment that Mr. Conklin went to them and requested them to be more quiet, at the same time telling the offenders they were perfectly welcome in the church but that they must behave. The brothers, highly indignant, invited Mr. Conklin to fight, but Mr. Conklin declined and again assured the two that they were welcome but must act as gentlemen. Abran and Enofrio at once retired from the church.
After the social had ended and as Mr. Conklin with his wife at his side passed out of the church door, Abran Baca caught Mrs. Conklin by one arm and jerked her away from her husband. At the same instant Enofrio shot and killed the editor on the church steps.
This foul murder created no end of indignation in the little town of Socorro. Scouting parties weresent in all directions to try and effect the capture of the murderers. However, the two Bacas managed to elude their pursuers and made their way into the Republic of Mexico. The governor of New Mexico at once issued a proclamation offering $500 for their capture and the citizens of Socorro offered a like amount for the murderers, dead or alive. The proclamation, with a minute description of the Baca boys, was sent broadcast over the country. And, of course, the rangers at Ysleta received several of the circulars.
In the spring of 1881 the county judge of El Paso County was Jose Baca, an uncle of the two murderers. He was also a merchant at Ysleta, then the county seat of El Paso County. Captain Baylor's company of rangers was quartered in the west end of Ysleta, about one-half mile from the public square. On receiving the New Mexico proclamation I set a watch over the home and store of Judge Baca and kept it up for nearly a month but without success. We finally concluded that the Baca boys had not come our way and almost forgot the incident.
However, one morning in the latter part of March, 1881, Jim Fitch, one of our most trustworthy rangers, hurried back to camp from Ysleta and informed me that he had seen two well dressed Mexican boys, strangers to him, sitting on the porch of Judge Baca's home. I at once made a detail of four men. We saddled our horses, rode to town, rounded up the Baca home and captured two strange Mexicans. I believed them to be the Baca brothers, and left at once for New Mexico with my prisoners.
Before we had reached El Paso on our journey we were overtaken by Judge Baca, who had with him an interpreter. He asked me to please halt as he wished to talk with the prisoners. After a short conversation with the boys the judge asked me what was the reward for the capture of Abran Baca. I replied, "Five hundred dollars."
"If you will just let him step out in the bosque and get away I will give you $700," Judge Baca finally said with some hesitation.
Subsequently the judge raised the bribe to one thousand dollars, but I informed him there was not enough money in El Paso County to buy me off, so he returned to Ysleta and I continued my journey to New Mexico, feeling assured I had at least captured one of the Conklin murderers. On arriving at Socorro I was at once informed that I had Abran all right but my second prisoner was Massias Baca, a cousin of the murderers, but not incriminated in the crime.
I was treated royally by the citizens and officersof Socorro. They were delighted that one of the murderers had been captured and promptly counted out to me $250 as their part of the reward offered for the apprehension of one of the criminals. Colonel Eaton, head deputy sheriff of the county, issued me a receipt for the body of Abran Baca delivered inside the jail of Socorro County, New Mexico. This receipt, forwarded to the governor of the territory, promptly brought me a draft for $250 and a letter of thanks from his excellency.
Early in April, about one month after the capture of Abran Baca, I learned from Santiago Cooper, a friend that lived in Ysleta, that he had seen a man at Saragosa, Mexico, who, from the description, he believed to be Enofrio Baca. I told Cooper I would give him $25 if he would go back to Saragosa and find out to a certainty if the person he had seen was Enofrio Baca. A week later Cooper came to me and said the man at Saragosa was Baca and that the murderer was clerking in the one big store of the town. This store was a long adobe building situated against a hill with the front facing so that one riding up to the front of it would bring his saddle skirts almost on a level with the building because of the terraces in front of it made necessary by the slope of the hill. Enofrio was of florid complexion with dark red hair, which made it easy to identify him.
I kept this information about the murderer to myself for nearly a week while I pondered over it. I was anxious to capture Baca, yet I well knew from previous experience that if I caused him to be arrested in Mexico the authorities there would turn him loose, especially when the influence of wealthy relatives was brought to bear. Knowing he would follow the law to the letter I dare not take Captain Baylor into my confidence. Saragosa, a little town of about five hundred inhabitants, is situated about four miles southwest of Ysleta. While it is only about a mile from the Rio Grande as the crow flies, yet, because of the many farms and big irrigation ditches, it was impossible to enter or leave the town only by following the public road between Ysleta and Saragosa. It has always been the delight of border Mexicans to get behind an adobe wall or on top an adobe house and shoot to ribbons any hated gringo that might be unfortunately caught on the Mexican side of the river. I knew only too well from my own experience that I could not go into Saragosa, attempt to arrest a Mexican, stay there five minutes and live, yet I determined to take the law in my own hands and make the attempt.
I took into my confidence just one man, George Lloyd. If ever there was an ace in the ranger service he was one. I unfolded my plans to him. I did not have to point out the danger to him for he had lived on the Rio Grande ten times as long as I.
"Sergeant, that is an awful dangerous and risky piece of business and I will have to have a little time in which to think it over," he said when I talked with him.
The next day Lloyd came to me and said, "Sergeant, I will go anywhere in the world with you."
Though willing to accompany me I could tell he doubted our ability to execute the capture.
I planned to attempt the capture of Baca the next morning and sent Cooper back to Saragosa to look over the situation there once more. He informed me on his return that Baca was still clerking in the store. I now told Lloyd to keep our horses up when the animals were turned out to graze next morning. This move caused no especial thought or comment, for the men frequently would keep their horses to ride down town. As soon as we had crossed the Rio Grande into Mexico I planned to quit the public road, travel through the bosques, pass around on the west side of Saragosa and ride quickly up to the store in which our man was working. Lloyd was to hold the horses while I was to dismount, enter the store and make the arrest. Then, if possible, I was to mount Baca behind Lloyd and make a quick get-away.
Our plans were carried out almost to the letter. We reached Saragosa safely, and while Lloyd held my horse in front of the store I entered and discovered Baca measuring some goods for an old Mexican woman. I stepped up to him, caught him in the collar, and with a drawn pistol ordered him to come with me. The customer promptly fainted and fell on the floor. Two other people ran from the building, screaming at the top of their voices. Baca hesitated about going with me, and in broken English asked me where he was to be taken. I informed him to Paso del Norte. I shoved my pistol right up against his head and ordered him to step lively. When we reached our horses I made Baca mount behind Lloyd. I then jumped into my saddle and, waving my pistol over my head, we left Saragosa on a dead run. Our sudden appearance in the town and our more sudden leaving bewildered the people for a few minutes. They took in the situation quickly, however, and began ringing the old church bell rapidly, and this aroused the whole population.
As I left Saragosa I saw men getting their horsestogether and knew that in a few minutes a posse would be following us. When we had gone two miles almost at top speed I saw that Lloyd's horse was failing, and we lost a little time changing Baca to my mount. We had yet two miles to go and through deep sand most of the way. I could see a cloud of dust and shortly a body of mounted men hove in view. It was a tense moment. Lloyd thought it was all off with us, but we still had a long lead and our horses were running easily. As our pursuers made a bend in the road we discovered nine men in pursuit. As soon as they had drawn up within six hundreds yards they began firing on us. This was at long range and did no damage. In fact, I believe they were trying to frighten rather than to wound us as they were just as likely to hit Baca as either of us. We were at last at the Rio Grande, and while it was almost one hundred yards wide it was flat and shallow at the ford. I hit the water running and as I mounted the bank on good old Texan soil I felt like one who has made a home run in a world series baseball game. Our pursuers halted at the river so I pulled off my hat, waved to them and disappeared up the road.
We lost no time in reaching camp, and our appearance there with a prisoner and two run-down horses caused all the boys in quarters to turn out.Captain Baylor noticed the gathering and hurried over to camp.
"Sergeant, who is this prisoner you have?" he asked, walking straight up to me.
I replied it was Enofrio Baca, the man that had murdered Mr. Conklin. The captain looked at the run-down horses, wet with sweat, and asked me where I had captured him.
"Down the river," I replied, trying to evade him.
"From the looks of your horse I would think you had just run out of a fight. Where down the river did you capture this man?"
I saw the captain was going to corner me and I thought I might as well "fess up." I told him I had arrested Baca at Saragosa and kidnaped him out of Mexico. Captain Baylor's eyes at once bulged to twice their natural size.
"Sergeant, that is the most imprudent act you ever committed in your life! Don't you know that it is a flagrant violation of the law and is sure to cause a breach of international comity that might cause the Governor of Texas to disband the whole of Company "A"? Not only this, but it was a most hazardous undertaking and it is a wonder to me that the Mexicans did not shoot you and Lloyd into doll rags."
Captain Baylor was plainly out of patience with me.
"Gillett, you have less sense than I thought you had," he declared, heatedly. "If you have any explanation to make I would like to have it."
I reminded the captain of the tragic fate of Morgan and Brown and how the authorities at Guadalupe had turned their murderers, Skevill and Molina, loose. I declared that had I had Baca arrested in Mexico he would have gone scot-free with his rich and influential friends to help him. Baylor declared that two wrongs did not make one right, and said I should have consulted him. I finally told the captain frankly that I had been in the ranger service six years, had risen from the ranks to be orderly sergeant at a salary of only $50 a month. I pointed out that this was the highest position I could hope to get without a commission, and while one had been promised me at the first vacancy yet I could see no early hope of obtaining it, as every captain in the battalion was freezing to his job. This remark seemed to amuse Captain Baylor and somewhat eased his anger.
I went on to say that I not only wanted the $500 reward offered for Baca, but I wanted the notoriety I would get if I could kidnap the murderer out of Mexico without being killed in the attempt, for Ibelieved the notoriety would lead to something better than a ranger sergeancy. And this is what really happened, for I subsequently became First Assistant Marshal of El Paso under Dallas Stoudenmire at a salary of $150 per month, and in less than a year after my arrest of Enofrio Baca I was made Chief of Police of that city at a salary that enabled me to get a nice start in the cattle business.
"Sergeant, you can go with your man," Captain Baylor finally said, "but it is against my best judgment. I ought to escort him across the Rio Grande and set him free."
I lost no time in sending a ranger to the stage office at Ysleta with instructions to buy two tickets to Masilla, New Mexico, and one to El Paso. The stage was due to pass our quarters about 12 o'clock, so I did not have long to wait. I took Lloyd as a guard as far as El Paso and there turned him back, making the remainder of the journey to Socorro, New Mexico, alone with the prisoner. I reached the old town of Masilla, New Mexico, at dark after a rather exciting day. I was afraid to put Baca in jail at that place, as I had no warrant nor extradition papers upon which to hold him and feared the prison authorities might not redeliver Baca to me next morning. The stage coach from Masilla to Rincon did not run at night so I secured a roomat the hotel and chaining the prisoner to me we slept together.
On the following day we reached Rincon, the terminus of the Santa Fe Railroad at that time. I wired the officers of Socorro, New Mexico, from El Paso that I had captured Baca and was on my way to New Mexico with him. Baca's friends had also been informed of his arrest and lost no time in asking the Governor of New Mexico to have me bring the prisoner to Santa Fe as they feared mob violence at Socorro. When I reached San Marcial I was handed a telegram from the governor ordering me to bring Baca to Santa Fe and on no account to stop with him in Socorro.
Because of delay on the railroad I did not reach Socorro until late at night. The minute the train stopped at that town it was boarded by twenty-five or thirty armed men headed by Deputy Sheriff Eaton. I showed Eaton the governor's telegram, but he declared Baca was wanted at Socorro and that was where he was going. I remonstrated with him and declared I was going on to Santa Fe with the prisoner. By this time a dozen armed men had gathered around me and declared, "Not much will you take him to Santa Fe." I was furious, but I was practically under arrest and powerless to help myself. Baca and I were transferred from thetrain to a big bus that was in waiting. The jailer entered first, then Baca was seated next to him and I sat next the door with my Winchester in my hand. The driver was ordered to drive to the jail.
It was a bright moonlight night and we had not traveled far up the street before I looked out and saw at least a hundred armed men. They came from every direction. Boys, did you ever encounter a mob? I assure you it is far from a pleasant feeling when you face one. The men swarmed around the bus, three or four of them grabbed the horses by the bridle reins and held them, while others tried to force the bus doors. I asked the jailer if I could depend on him to help me stand the mob off, but he replied it would do no good. I was now madder than ever, and for the first time in my life I ripped out an oath, saying, "G— d—n them, I am going to stand them off!"
As the doors were forced I poked my Winchester out and ordered the mob to stand back or I would shoot. The men paid no more attention to my gun than if it had been a brown stick. A man standing beside the bus door seized the muzzle of my rifle and, with a quick jerk to one side, caused it to fly out of my hand and out upon the ground.
By this time another of the mob grabbed me in the collar and proceeded to pull me out of the bus.I spread my legs and tried to brace myself, but another hard and quick jerk landed me out on the ground, where one of the men kicked me. I was tame now and made no effort to draw my pistol. One of the crowd said to me, "What in h—do you mean? We do not wish to hurt you but we are going to hang that d—n Mexican right now!"
I then informed the mob of the nature of Baca's arrest and told them that the hanging of the prisoner would place me in an awkward position. Then, too, the reward offered by the territory of New Mexico was for the delivery of the murderer inside the jail doors of Socorro County. The leaders of the crowd consulted for a few minutes and then concluded I was right. They ordered me back into the bus, gave me my Winchester and we all started for the jail. As soon as Baca had been placed in prison Deputy Sheriff Eaton sat down and wrote me a receipt for the delivery of Baca inside the jail doors.
By this time day was just beginning to break and I tried to stay the hanging by making another talk. The mob interpreted my motive and invited me to step down a block to their community room where they would talk with me. I started with them and we had gone only a hundred yards before the whole mob broke back to the jail. I started to go withthem but two men held me, saying, "It's no use; they are going to hang him."
The men took Baca to a nearby corral and hanged him to a big beam of the gate. The next morning Baca's relatives came to me at the hotel with hats in their hands and asked me for the keys with which to remove the shackles from the dead man's legs. As I handed them the keys I felt both mortified and ashamed. A committee of citizens at Socorro waited on me just before I took the train for home, counted out to me $250 as their part of the reward and thanked me for capturing the two murderers. The committee assured me that it stood ready to help me financially or otherwise should I get involved with the Federal Government over the capture and kidnapping of Enofrio Baca.
I presume the relatives of young Baca reported his kidnapping to our government, for a few weeks after his capture Mr. Blaine, Secretary of State, wrote a long letter to Governor Roberts regarding a breach of international comity. Governor Roberts wrote Captain Baylor for a full explanation of the matter. Captain Baylor, while never countenancing a wrongdoing in his company, would stand by his men to the last ditch when they were once in trouble. He was a fluent writer and no man in Texas understood better than he the many foul and outrageous murders that had been committed alongthe Rio Grande, the perpetrators of which had evaded punishment and arrest by crossing over into Mexico. Baylor wrote so well and so to the point that nothing further was said about the matter. Only an order came to Captain Baylor admonishing him never again to allow his men to follow fugitives into Mexico.
Soon afterward the Safety Committee of Socorro, New Mexico, wrote to Captain Baylor saying, "We are informed by a reliable party that Jose Baca of Ysleta, Texas, has hired a Mexican to kill Sergeant Gillett. Steps have been taken to prevent this. However, he would do well to be on the lookout." Baylor at once went to Judge Baca with this letter, but the jurist denied in the most emphatic terms any knowledge of the reported plot. Also, there was a report current in both Ysleta and El Paso that a reward of $1500 had been offered for the delivery of Sergeant Gillett's body to the Mexican authorities at El Paso del Norte. Upon investigation I found that no such offer had ever been made, but for safety's sake I kept out of Mexico for several years.
The kidnapping of Baca aroused much comment and gave me a deal of notoriety and, as I had anticipated, it was not long in bearing the fruit I desired,—promotion into larger and more remunerative fields of work.
CHAPTER XIX
LAST SCOUTINGS
During the summer of 1881 Captain Baylor's company made several scouts out to the Sacramento and Guadalupe Mountains. These were reported to the Adjutant-General as scouts after Indians, but there were no more redskins in Texas, for the rangers had done their work effectively. These expeditions were, therefore, more in the nature of outings for the boys. And it was quite a pleasure to get away from camp in the hot Rio Grande Valley and scout in those high mountains covered with tall pine timber that teemed with game such as deer, bear and wild turkey. The plains between the Guadalupe Mountains and Ysleta contained hundreds of antelope, thus affording the rangers the best of sport.
Turning over the pages of my old scrap book I find this little announcement taken from the El Paso Times: "Colonel Baylor and twenty of his rangers have just returned from a scout in the Guadalupe Mountains, in which they killed twenty-five turkeys, fifteen deer and two antelope."
On one of these hunting expeditions we had with us George Lloyd, who had been a ranger underLieutenant Tays when his company was first mustered into service in El Paso County. We camped at Los Cornuvas, and here Lloyd had had an engagement with Indians. He went over the ground and gave us an interesting account of his fight. He said there were but twelve men in the scout, including Lieutenant Tays. In marching from Crow Springs to Los Cornuvas, a distance of thirty miles, six of the rangers were riding nearly a mile ahead of the others and on approaching Los Cornuvas made for some tinajas (water holes) up in those mountains. They rode around a point of rocks and met face to face some ten or twelve Indians coming out from the water. Indians and rangers were within forty feet before they discovered each other's presence and paleface and redskin literally fell off their horses,—the Indians seeking cover in the rocks above the trail while five of the rangers turned a somersault into a friendly arroyo.
A ranger said to be a Russian nobleman and nihilist was killed early in the fight and buried on the spot where he fell. A headboard was placed to mark the grave, but the Indians soon defaced it by hacking at it with their knives whenever they passed the spot. Though he could have had splendid cover, the Russian stood upright according tothe etiquette prevailing among British officers in the Transvaal and was shot through the brain.
In dismounting, Lloyd held on to the end of a thirty-foot stake rope that was tied around his horse's neck. Four of the dismounted scout wriggled their way down the creek and got away. In reloading his Winchester after shooting it empty Lloyd unfortunately slipped a .45 Colt's pistol cartridge into the magazine of his .44 Winchester and in attempting to throw a cartridge into his gun it jammed—catching him in a serious predicament. However, taking his knife from his pocket this fearless ranger coolly removed the screw that held the side plates of his Winchester together, took off the plates, removed the offending cartridge, replaced the plates, tightened up the screw, reloaded his gun and began firing. It takes a man with iron nerve to do a thing like that, and you meet such a one but once in a lifetime. Is it any wonder, then, that when I cast around for a man to go into Mexico with me to kidnap Baca I selected Lloyd out of the twenty men in camp?
Seeing that the Russian was dead and his companions gone, Lloyd crawled back down the arroyo, pulling his horse along the bank above until he was out of danger. The five rangers' horses, knowing where the water was, went right up into the rocks,where they were captured, saddles, bridles and all, by the Indians.
The redskins, as soon as Lloyd was gone, came out of hiding, took the Russian's Winchester and pistol and left. Lloyd was the only man of the six to save his horse, for the Indians, with their needle guns high up in the rocks, held Lieutenant Tays and the remainder of his force at bay.
In the latter part of the summer of 1881 Captain Baylor moved his company of rangers from Ysleta to a site three miles below El Paso. While camped there the captain was warned by the sheriff of Tombstone, Arizona, to be on the lookout for four San Simone Valley rustlers, supposed to be a part of Curley Bill's gang. The robbers' names were given as Charley and Frank Baker, Billie Morgan and a fourth person supposed to be Curley Bill himself. These outlaws had stolen sixteen big work mules and four horses at a wood camp some twelve miles from Tombstone. They had also robbed a store and, assaulting the proprietor with pistols, left him for dead. A $500 reward was offered for the capture of the desperadoes and the stolen stock. The robbers' trail led down into New Mexico and it was believed Curley Bill and his gang were headed for western Texas, where they would try to dispose of their stolen stock at some of the railroad grading camps near El Paso.
Captain Baylor at once ordered me to take seven men and five days' rations and scout up the Rio Grande to the line of New Mexico for the bandits' trail, and, if I found it, to follow it up. I worked up the river but found no trail. Neither could I learn anything about any strange men driving stock through the country. My time was nearly up and I concluded to return to camp through a gap in the Franklin Mountains, some thirty or forty miles north of El Paso. We left the Rio Grande late in the evening, passed out through the gap and made a dry camp on the plains east of the mountains.
Early the following morning we rode to a watering place known as Monday's Springs and stopped for breakfast. Here the boys discovered some horse and mule tracks. At first we thought nothing of this, supposing the trail had been made by some loose stock grazing near the water. From Monday's Springs a dim road led along the east side of the mountains to El Paso and we took this route home. Before we had traveled very far we noticed that some of the stock was traveling the same road, though even then I never suspected that these tracks might be the trail of the bandits for whom we were scouting. Finally we came to footprints made bysome men as they adjusted their saddles or tightened their packs. It here dawned upon me that the tracks might have been made by the parties we wanted.
I thereupon followed the trail carefully and it led me through what is today the most beautiful residential portion of the city of El Paso. The tracks led to a big camp yard where now stands the $500,000 Federal building and postoffice. In the description of the stolen stock we were told one of the mules carried a small Swiss stock bell. As I neared the wagon yard I heard the tinkle of this bell and felt sure we had tracked our quarry. We dismounted, and with our Winchesters cocked and ready for action, our little party of rangers slipped quickly inside the large corral gate and within ten feet of it we came upon three heavily armed men bending over a fire cooking their breakfast. Their guns were leaning against the adobe fence near at hand, so the surprise was complete.
The outlaws rose to their feet and attempted to get their guns, but my men held their cocked Winchesters at their breasts. I told our captives that we were rangers ordered to arrest them and demanded their surrender. The robbers were undecided what to do; they were afraid to pull their pistols or seize their guns, yet they refused to holdup their hands. Finally one of the Baker brothers turned slightly toward me and said they would rather be shot down and killed than give up—surrender meant death anyway. I thereupon answered that we had no desire to hurt them, but declared that the least attempt to pull a gun would mean instant death to them all, and again ordered them to raise their hands. They slowly obeyed. I stepped up to them, unbuckled their belts and took their weapons.
In looking over their camp I found four saddles and Winchesters but I had captured only three men. I mentioned this fact to the prisoners and they laughingly said one of their number had stepped down town to get a package of coffee, had probably noticed our presence and lit out. The two Baker boys and Billie Morgan were the men captured, and I asked if the missing man was Curley Bill himself. They replied it was not, but refused to tell who the fourth member of their party was. As we had no description of him and he was on foot in a town full of armed men we had no means of identifying him and he was never captured.
From the captured robbers we learned that they had run out of provisions, and for this reason they had not camped at Monday Springs. They had risen early and come into El Paso for breakfast.They declared it was a good thing for us that they had built their camp fire so near the gate, for had they been thirty feet from it they would have put up a fight we should have remembered for a long time. I replied that the eight of us could have held our own no matter where they had camped.
These robbers were held in our camp some ten days or more until the proper extradition papers could be had from the State Capitol at Austin, as they refused to be taken back to Arizona without the proper authority. They owned horses, which they gave to some lawyers in El Paso to prevent their being taken back to the scene of their crimes. We secured all the stolen stock—sixteen mules and four horses. The owners came and claimed them and paid the rangers $200 and the Arizona sheriff paid a like amount for the capture of the rustlers.
Our rangers became well acquainted with these thieves while we held them in our camp. The robbers admitted they were going under assumed names and said they were Texans but refused to say from what part of the state they came. The three of them were taken back to Arizona, tried for assault to kill and the theft of the horses at Tombstone and sent to the prison at Yuma for twenty-five years. They frequently wrote to our boys from there and seemed to hold no grudgeagainst us for capturing them. The scout to capture these men was the last one of importance I took part in, for my work with the rangers was now growing toward its close.
In the fall of 1881 Captain Baylor received word from Israel King of Cambray, New Mexico, that a band of thieves had stolen a bunch of cattle from him and at last reports were headed toward El Paso with them. With a detail of four men I was ordered to make a scout up the river and into the Canutillos to intercept the rustlers. After traveling some ten miles up the Rio Grande we crossed the river into New Mexico to get on more even ground. Some eighteen miles above El Paso we found the trail of the stolen stock and followed it back across the Rio Grande into Texas.
While working our way along the trail through almost impassable brush we entered a small glade and came upon the stolen stock quietly grazing. On the opposite side of them a Mexican with a Winchester stood guard while his horse grazed nearby. The guard fired on us as he ran to his horse and we were compelled to run around the cattle to get to the thief. We fired our guns as we ran and this sudden noise frightened the loose pony so the fugitive was unable to mount. He was then forced to dive into the brush on foot. Knowing we couldmake no headway through the heavy tornilla bosque we dismounted and charged it on foot. The fleeing Mexican undertook to run through a muddy slough formed by back water from the Rio Grande. Here he bogged but, extracting himself, he backed out the way he had entered and found safety in the friendly brush. In running to where he was last seen we found his gun abandoned in the mud. Some twenty or thirty shots were fired at him and while none found the mark we captured his Winchester, his pony and thirty-six head of stolen cattle and gave him a scare that he will remember so long as he lives. The cattle were returned to Mr. King, who kindly presented us with $200 for their recovery.
We learned later that Frank Stevenson, a notorious rustler, whose rendezvous was in this Canutillo brush, had stolen these cattle and had left the Mexican in charge of them while he had gone into El Paso to effect their sale. As described in a previous chapter, I finally captured Stevenson and he was sent to the penitentiary for fifteen years for horse stealing. His capture and imprisonment broke up the Canutillo gang, and today, forty years after his arrest, the upper Rio Grande Valley is almost an Eden on earth with its fine apple and peach orchards, its alfalfa fields, bigdairy herds and elegant homes. It is one of the beauty spots adjacent to the now fine city of El Paso. The Santa Fe Railroad traverses this valley, and I sometimes travel over it. As I sit in an easy seat in the Pullman and look out over the country I always reflect on the past and wonder how many of its present inhabitants know what a wilderness and what a rendezvous it once was for all kinds of cutthroats, cattle thieves and murderers.
While the rangers were camped near El Paso during the fall of 1881 I met Captain Thatcher, then division superintendent of the Santa Fe Railroad. He told me, because of the stage and train robberies in New Mexico and Arizona, the railroad and the Wells-Fargo Express companies feared that their trains would be held up near El Paso. To protect themselves they had, therefore, decided to place armed guards of three men on the main line of the Santa Fe to run between Deming and Las Vegas, New Mexico, and a similar guard on the branch from El Paso, Texas, to Rincon, New Mexico. Captain Thatcher had known me as a ranger and my kidnapping of Enofrio Baca out of Mexico had won me no little notoriety, so he now offered me a position with the railroad company as captain of the guard at a salary of $150 per month. I would beallowed to select my own men for guards and would be responsible for their acts.
I requested time to consider the proposition. While the position as captain of the railroad guard might not be permanent—might not hold out more than six months—yet the salary attached was exactly three times what I received from the State of Texas as sergeant of rangers. I discussed Thatcher's offer with Captain Baylor and finally prevailed upon him to give me my discharge. And on the 26th of December, 1881, after serving the State of Texas as a ranger for six years and seven months I laid down my Winchester with the satisfied consciousness that I had done my duty ever. My term of service embraced one of the happiest portions of my life, and recollections of my ranger days are among my most cherished memories. Among my dearest possessions, though preserved in an old scrapbook, is my discharge. It reads simply:
DISCHARGEThis is to certify that James B. Gillett, 1st Sergeant of Captain Geo. W. Baylor's Company "A" of the Frontier Battalion of the State of Texas, is hereby honorably discharged from the service of the state by reason of his own request. I take greatpleasure in testifying to his uniform good conduct and gallant service in my company.Given at El Paso, Texas, this, the 26th day of December, 1881.GEORGE W. BAYLORCommanding Company.
DISCHARGE
This is to certify that James B. Gillett, 1st Sergeant of Captain Geo. W. Baylor's Company "A" of the Frontier Battalion of the State of Texas, is hereby honorably discharged from the service of the state by reason of his own request. I take greatpleasure in testifying to his uniform good conduct and gallant service in my company.
Given at El Paso, Texas, this, the 26th day of December, 1881.
GEORGE W. BAYLORCommanding Company.
The personnel of Captain Baylor's company changed rapidly, so that at the time of my discharge there was scarcely a man in the company that had served longer than six months. There was, therefore, no wrenching or straining of strong friendship ties when I left the command, save only for my leaving of Captain Baylor. To part from him did, indeed, make me feel sad. My farewell and departure was simple and unimpressive. I sat down with my comrades for a last ranger dinner of beans, bacon, bread and black coffee. After the meal I arose from the table, shook hands with Captain Baylor and the boys, mounted my horse and rode away from the ranger camp forever. Yet, though my term of actual service was over and though I had garnered a host of memories and experiences, I had not quite finished with the rangers—I had not gathered all the fruits of my ranger-ship,—an appointment to the police force of El Paso in the vicinity of which city I had so often scouted.
CHAPTER XX
FRUITS OF RANGER SERVICE
Early in the spring of 1881 the old town of El Paso awoke out of her Rip Van Winkle sleep to find that four grand trunk railroad lines,—the Santa Fe, Southern Pacific, G.,H & S.A., and the Texas & Pacific—were rapidly building toward her and were certain to enter the town by the end of the year. Situated as it was, many hundreds of miles from any other town, it was a foregone conclusion that El Paso had the making of a great city and was a fine field for investment. Bankers, merchants, capitalists, real estate dealers, cattlemen, miners, railroad men, gamblers, saloon-keepers and sporting people of both sexes flocked to the town. They came in buggies, hacks, wagons, horseback and even afoot. There was not half enough hotel accommodations to go around, so people just slept and ate at any old place. El Paso Street, the only business thoroughfare at that time, was flooded with crowds.
DALLAS STOUDENMIRE
At night there was not enough room for people to walk on the sidewalks and they filled the streets. To me it looked just a miniature midway at a world's fair. A saloon was opened on almost everycorner of the town with many in between. Each drinking place had a gambling house attached where the crowds played faro bank, monte, roulette, chuck-a-luck, stud poker and every gambling game on the calendar. If one wished a seat at the gaming tables he had to come early or he could not get within thirty feet of them. Two variety theaters, the Coliseum, operated by the Manning Brothers,—the largest in the southwest—and Jack Doyle's, were quickly opened.
An election was called in El Paso and the city was duly incorporated and a mayor and board of aldermen installed. George Campbell was elected city marshal and given one assistant, Bill Johnson. The new marshal had come to El Paso from Young County, Texas, where he had been a deputy sheriff. Campbell had done some good detective work and was a fairly good and efficient officer, but his assistant was much below ordinary.
The city marshal soon found that with but one man to aid him he had the biggest kind of a job on his hands with something doing every hour in the twenty-four. Campbell decided he was not getting enough pay for the work he had to do and asked the City Council for a raise in his salary, but the council refused it. The marshal at once resigned and left Bill Johnson to hold the town.Campbell was very friendly with the sporting element in El Paso, especially with the Manning Brothers, who were running two saloons and a big variety theater. Campbell and his friends decided to use strategy to force the council to increase his salary and planned to shoot up the town, thinking this would cause the city fathers to reinstate Campbell in his old position with a substantial increase in pay. At 2 o'clock one morning the town was shot up, some three or four hundred shots being fired promiscuously and with no attempt to make arrests.
The following morning Mayor McGoffin sent a hurry call to Captain Baylor at Ysleta and asked that a detachment of Texas Rangers be sent to El Paso to help police the town. At that time I had not severed my connection with the rangers, so I was ordered to make a detail of five rangers, issue them fifteen days' rations and have them report at once to the mayor of El Paso.
The peace loving citizens of the town welcomed the rangers, secured nice quarters for them and furnished the detachment with a stove on which to cook its meals. The rangers had been in El Paso on police duty about a week when there appeared in the town from New Mexico the famous Dallas Stoudenmire. The newcomer was six feet twoinches in height, a blonde and weighed one hundred and eighty-five pounds. Stoudenmire had a compelling personality and had been a Confederate soldier, having served with General Joe Johnston at Greensboro, North Carolina. Mr. Stoudenmire applied to the mayor and City Council for the position of city marshal. He presented good references and was duly appointed town marshal.
George Campbell now saw his chances for reinstatement as an officer in El Paso go glimmering. Marshal Stoudenmire called on Bill Johnson for the keys of the city jail, but the latter refused to surrender them. Thereupon Stoudenmire seized the recalcitrant assistant, shook him up and took the keys from his pocket, thereby making his first enemy in El Paso.
About ten days after the new marshal had been installed it was reported in El Paso that two Mexican boys had been found murdered some ten or twelve miles from town on the Rio Grande. The rangers stationed in the city went out to the ranch to investigate. The bodies were brought to El Paso and a coroner's inquest was held in a room fronting on El Paso Street. Johnnie Hale, manager of Manning's little ranch, was summoned to appear before the coroner, and it was believed by therangers that Hale and an ex-ranger named Len Peterson had committed the double murder.
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. Shortlyafterward 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 anddeclared 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.
I was an officer of El Paso for several years. Not very long after my acceptance of the marshalship Captain C.L. Nevill, with whom I had served in Lieutenant Reynolds' company, resigned his ranger command and became sheriff and tax collector ofPresidio County, Texas. The Marfa country was now seen to be a very promising cattle section, so Captain Nevill and myself formed a partnership and embarked in the cattle business. This did not in the least interfere with our duties as sheriff and marshal, respectively, and we soon built up a nice little herd of cattle.
In the spring of 1885 General Gano and sons of Dallas, Texas, formed a company known as the Estado Land and Cattle Company. The new concern arranged to open a big ranch in Brewster County and General Gano wrote to Captain Nevill, asking him please to secure a good cattleman as ranch manager for the new company. Nevill at once wrote me and advised me to accept this position. In his letter he jokingly remarked:
"Jim, you have had a quart cup of bullets shot at you while a ranger and marshal, and now that you have a chance to quit and get something less hazardous I advise you to do it. Besides you will be near our own little ranch and can see your own cattle from time to time."
I considered the proposition seriously, and on the 1st day of April, 1885, I resigned from the police force of El Paso and became a cowboy again. In accepting the marshalship I reaped the fruits of my ranger service and now, in resigning from thatposition I completely severed all my connection with the ranger force and all that it had brought me. Henceforth my ranger days and ranger service were to be but a memory, albeit the most happy and cherished one of my life.
I was manager of the Estado Land and Cattle Company's ranch for nearly six years and during that period the herd increased from six to thirty thousand head. When I resigned the ranch managership it was that I might attend to my own ranch interests, which had also grown in that period. Though today I own a large and prosperous ranch in the Marfa country and though my business interests are many and varied, I still cherish the memory of my ranger days and am never too busy to see an old ranger comrade and re-live with him those six adventurous, happy and thrilling years I was a member of the Frontier Battalion of the Texas Rangers.
THE END
J.B. GillettIN1921