A TEXAS RANGER: True Story of the Leander H. Mcnelly's Texas Ranger Company in the Wild Horse Desert. Napoleon Augustus Jennings
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bonds of Gonzales and Navarro, and it was not until after four o’clock that the prisoners were allowed to depart. They were to appear for a hearing before Peterson at ten o’clock that morning. The hour set for our appearance in the court of Magistrate Navarro was nine o’clock.
After the last Mexican had gone, Peterson told me to go to the door and adjourn court. I did so, and when I turned back to him, he was roaring with laughter.
“I’ll turn the old town upside down,” he said, as he began to sort over a big quantity of affidavits on his desk. “These affidavits will stir things up. I couldn’t convict on them, but I can do a lot of scaring. Some of them are two years old, but I guess they are fresh enough for my purpose.”
We lay down and went to sleep then, but arose in time for our appearance in Navarro’s court at nine o’clock, and hurried to the office. The little room was crowded to suffocation. The mayor, the sheriff, the county judge, and nearly all the most prominent citizens and merchants were there. Our arrival was the signal for a cessation of the buzz of excited voices and the crowd made way for us to pass.
We took seats near Senor Navarro’s desk. That gentleman looked as though he had not slept since we had last seen him. He seemed worried. He cleared his throat nervously and asked in a low tone whether the witnesses against us were present. There was no answer, and the magistrate seemed much relieved thereat. He braced up wonderfully and, smiling at Peterson and me, said pleasantly:
“Gentlemen, you see there are no witnesses against you; I shall have to dismiss the case.”
All this had evidently been arranged beforehand, to propitiate the Commissioner, but they little knew the man with whom they had to deal. Peterson merely shrugged his shoulders and asked me to go to breakfast with him. He took not the slightest notice of the numerous greetings of “Buenos dias, Senor; como esta V.?” which met his ears continually. We had breakfast in a little restaurant and then went to Peterson’s office.
A large crowd had congregated in the street in front of the office, awaiting our arrival. As soon as the office was opened, it was completely filled with men, and many were unable to get in for want of room. I opened court, and Gonzales and Navarro were told to stand up. Peterson looked at them very seriously and then said in a stern voice:
“I am not prepared, right now, to give you a hearing and will put it off in each case for two weeks more. In the meantime, I shall require you to renew your bonds in the sum of twenty thousand dollars each, or you may go to the guardhouse, as you please.”
Immediately after saying this, the Commissioner turned to me, and in a loud, distinct voice said:
“Mr. Marshal, you will find a number of warrants on my desk. Select those for the mayor, the sheriff, and the most prominent merchants and execute them at once. I propose to put a stop to this smuggling, and the best way to do it is to begin at the top and take the big men first.”
This bombshell had an immediate effect. The crowd in the office began to thin out rapidly. The mayor and the sheriff disappeared; so did the prominent merchants. The others were not long in following, and in a few minutes Peterson and I were alone. I was looking over the capiases and selecting some of them, according to the Commissioner’s instructions, when he said:
“Oh, don’t bother with those things. I only wanted to frighten them a little and teach them not to interfere with me.”
He had done so very effectually. The accused men went over into Mexico as quickly as they could get there. When Peterson learned of this, he was so tickled that be immediately went on a spree. Then he sent a telegram to the Galveston News, of which newspaper he was an occasional correspondent. The telegram read in this way:
“Laredo set on fire. The mayor, sheriff, and big merchants have skipped to Mexico to avoid arrest. Particulars later.”
Unfortunately, he was not in a condition to send the later particulars, and so the Galveston News came out the next morning with a startling article based on the brief telegram. The headlines of the article read:
LAREDO ON FIRE
TERRIBLE CONFLAGRATION ON THE RIO GRANDE
THE SHERIFF AND MAYOR OF THE
CITY SUPPOSED TO BE THE INCENDIARIES
THEY AND THEIR PALS HAVE FLED TO MEXICO
EXCITEMENT ON THE BORDER
Chapter IV
Off on a Surveying Trip—Appointed Chief of Police — "Gringos" and "Greasers" —Origin of the Term "Gringo"—My First Arrest—An Unpopular Proceeding—Shot at Five Times in One Night — The Diaz-Lerdo Struggle in Mexico — Battle on the Rio Grande—United States Colored Troops to the Front—A Little Artillery Practice.
Peterson and I left town early the next morning to go on the surveying trip. He was to lay out some homestead sections on the Nueces River, about sixty miles from Laredo. It seemed to me a queer country for anyone to select for a home. The only trees were a few scattered live oaks and mesquite, the latter being utterly useless, except for firewood. Prickly pears grew in abundance. So did rattlesnakes. We were three weeks on the trip. Part of the time I carried a chain and the rest a red flag.
It was hard work and very exciting. The excitement consisted in killing rattlesnakes. We killed, on an average, three snakes to the mile. We saved their rattles, and when we went back to Laredo, Peterson put them in a cuff box. They completely filled the box. It was on this trip that I learned what a wonderful shot Peterson was with the revolver. One day he killed five cottontail rabbits without reloading his six-shooter, and he was riding a fractious horse at the time. Never before or since have I seen such marvelous shooting, and in my ten years of far western life I have met some splendid marksmen.
When we returned to Laredo, I continued to act as a deputy United States Marshal. I did not serve any more minuses on prominent Mexican citizens, but I did capture some smugglers in the act of bringing dutiable articles across the Rio Grande. I took as “prizes” a cartload of Mexican sugar and three barrels of mescal. As there are about five fighting drunks in a quart bottle of mescal and subsequently five splitting headaches, my capture was of direct benefit to humanity.
Seizing contraband goods was a precarious way to make a living, however, and I soon saw that I should have to obtain some steadier and more remunerative employment. The unpopularity of the work was another drawback. As seven-tenths of the people were smugglers, either chronic or occasional, I was not exactly a favorite with them. I went to Peterson and resigned.
“How would you like to be on the police force?” he asked. “We ought to have at least one American on the police here, and if you want to try it, I will get the appointment from the mayor for you.”
I said I would try it, and he sent me with a note to the mayor. Peterson’s influence with the authorities since his threat to put a stop to smuggling would have made a Tammany leader in New York turn pale with envy.
The mayor read the note and at once appointed me chief of police!
To do this he had to depose a Mexican, but he would have turned out his own brother if he had thought he could please Peterson by so doing. I assumed my new duties at once. I hadn’t a very clear idea of what they were, but I knew I had them to perform and that there was money to be made in doing it. I received $2.50 from the town for every arrest that I made, and $1 a day was allowed me for every prisoner in the “calaboose,” as the jail was called. As it cost me but forty cents a day to board each prisoner, there was a
clear profit of sixty cents a day. This system was certainly open to criticism, as it encouraged the policemen in making as many arrests as possible.
I had ten Mexicans under me on the police force. They detested me from the beginning, partly because I had been the