Lone Star (113 page)

On June 5, 1875, McNelly heard news that a party of cow thieves had crossed the river below Brownsville to round up cattle out on the Palo Alto. He took 22 volunteers from his camp and rode out on patrol. One of the volunteers was young Berry Smith. Smith's father went to McNelly and asked that some other man go in young Berry's place, since he was an only child, and if anything happened to him his mother "would die of grief." The Captain offered to leave the sixteen-year-old behind, but Berry protested. He had been "out for some time and hadn't had a fight yet." McNelly merely said that was the way he liked to hear a fellow talk, and let him ride.

McNelly's plan of operations was simple. He put out pickets or outriders, called "spies," with orders to bring in any suspicious-looking Mexican they came across. Whenever such a person was brought in, he was interviewed by old "Casuse."

Sandoval, who communicated through Tom Sullivan, a Brownsville boy, quickly identified the prisoners as citizens or "bandit spies." It was the practice of the bandit gangs to trail all American patrols, Ranger or military, with such scouts or spies, and up until this time bandit intelligence had been far superior.

One of McNelly's men later described the action when a Mexican citizen or otherwise unidentifiable Mexican was caught:

. . . If the Mexican proved to be a citizen [of the U.S.] we let him go at once; and if he proved to be a bandit spy one of us would take charge of him and march along until we saw a suitable tree. The Captain would take Tom, the bandit, and four or five of the boys to the tree. Old Casuse would put the rope over the bandit's neck, throw it over a limb, pull him up and let him down on the ground until he would consent to tell all he knew. As far as we knew this treatment always brought out the truth.

After the Captain had all the information he wanted he would let Casuse have charge of the spy. Casuse would make a regular hangman's knot and place the hangman's loop over the bandit's head, throw the end of the rope over the limb, make the bandit get on Casuse's old paint horse, and stand up in the saddle. Casuse would then make the loose end of the rope fast, get behind his horse, hit him a hard lick and the horse would jump from under the spy . . . Captain McNelly didn't like this kind of killing, but Casuse did. He said if we turned a spy loose he would spread the news among the bandits and we would never catch them. We caught several spies on that scout before we overhauled the bandits with the cattle, and Casuse dealt with them alike, showing no partiality—he always made them a present of six feet of rope.

McNelly hated hangings; "he could stand death better in any other form." But McNelly, even better than Jesús Sandoval, knew what he was doing. He found out where the bandits were, and what they were planning to do. A party of some dozen bandits were moving several hundred stolen cattle across the Palo Alto prairie near Loma Alta, a rise not far from Brownsville on the Point Isabel trail.

McNelly formed his men in line, then rode out in front and addressed them:

"Boys, . . . we are likely to overhaul them tonight, and when we do I will order you all in line of battle, and when I order you to charge them I want you to charge them in line. Do not get ahead of each other and get mixed up with the bandits for if you do you are apt to kill one another. . . . Don't pay any attention to the cattle. The spy tells me there are seventeen Mexicans and one white man and that they are Cortinas's picked men, and Cortinas says they can cope with any Rangers or regulars. If we can overhaul them in open country we will teach them a lesson they will never forget. If they should stampede, pick you out the one that is nearest to you and keep him in front of you and keep after him. Get as close to him as you can before you shoot. It makes no difference in what direction he goes, stay with him to a finish. That is all I have to say. Ready! Form in twos! Forward, march!

McNelly did overhaul the bandits, driving a large herd, in open country after sunup. The cattle rustlers made an enormous mistake; they mistook the Rangers for U.S. soldiers and believed they could stand them off. Each one soon had a terrible nemesis riding on his tail. The fight broke into individual actions and swirled over six miles, through a mucky arm of the Laguna Madre, Spanish dagger clumps, and brush. The fleeing Mexicans were no match for the Texans' six-shooters; they left a scattered trail of bodies behind.

The last of the fight ended in the brush, where some Mexicans took cover. McNelly followed one man, who had emptied his gun, into a thicket. The Captain had a single ball left in his pistol. He stood outside the thicket and called out for help, saying his six-shooter was empty. The Mexican immediately charged with his knife, grinning; McNelly coolly placed his last round into the bandit's teeth.

This was young Berry Smith's first fight, and he was never to learn how. He dashed into the brush after a bandit, and was shot down and killed. He was the only Texan lost, against twelve Mexicans. The Rangers recovered twelve horses, guns, and gear, plus 216 head of cattle, many of which came from Santa Gertrudis, the King ranch. Thirty-three other brands were later identified, and the stock returned.

McNelly rode back to Brownsville and told Sheriff Brown that he was placed in charge of the bandits' bodies. The resident U.S. Marshal, O'Schaughnessy, went out with a detachment of soldiers and gathered up the corpses. Meanwhile, McNelly saw to it that his dead Ranger was given a military funeral. He allowed none of them to "touch a drop of anything" until afterward, and had one wear a captured sombrero to the funeral. McNelly said it would be good advertising, and a "fair warning to all bandits not to cross to the Texas side."

The Army trundled in the bandit bodies and dumped them in a single pile in the public square. McNelly passed the word for all to come and see how the Rangers handled cow thieves. This produced enormous indignation among the people of Matamoros, and much muttering among the canaille, as McNelly called it, in Brownsville. There were threats that Cortinas would gather his bravos and cross the border, killing ten Americans for every Mexican. The Rangers calmly agreed to "naturalize" all of them, if they showed up. None came.

Cattle theft in the Brownsville area stopped. A few more raids were attempted, but McNelly now had his own informants and spies. The mere word that the
Rinches
were riding out caused at least two parties to abandon their loot far north of the river and flee for Mexico for their lives.

The testimony of General E. O. C. Ord of the U.S. Army, in a report of this affair is perhaps significant: "The officer of the State troops in command had learned the whereabouts of this raiding party by means which I could not legally resort to, but which were the only means of getting at the actual facts. . . . No other official records refer to the torture or execution of prisoners." But whatever was thought of McNelly's methods on the Rio Grande, they were effective.

The period to October 1875, passed quietly. But Mexican rustling operations had moved westward, upriver, and McNelly moved to follow them. He recovered some cattle eighty miles up from Brownsville. Then, the country being quiet, he left the border on a furlough to his home in Washington County. McNelly was actually dying of consumption, or tuberculosis, at this time, though no one knew it.

The theft of some 200 cattle from Cameron county soon brought him back. McNelly's actual thinking and planning in his next service will never be fully known, but the pattern of his actions was clear. McNelly did not believe all raiding could be stopped by passive measures, or counteraction, above the Rio Grande. Apparently, he actually planned to foment a war with Mexico, or at least that part of Mexico lying along the river. The United States had sent a gunboat to the border river, the Rio Bravo under Commander Kells, an old comrade of the filibuster, Walker. Kells apparently had latitude, and he and McNelly talked the same language. But Kells was in no position to do much, and the Army, under Ord and Colonel Potter, was wary of McNelly and all "State troops." However, reports of imminent action badly frightened officials on the Mexican side. They sent promises that the raiding would be stopped.

McNelly discounted this, because cattle now brought $18 per head on the Cuban market, a great sum of money for impoverished Mexico. He talked with Major A. J. Alexander, the senior cavalry officer along the border, and apparently got some kind of assurance that Alexander "would follow raiders anywhere" McNelly himself went. McNelly knew that an order had been placed for 18,000 head in Monterrey, and that the temptation to fill part of this order in Texas would be almost irresistible for Cortinas. He openly told his men that with a little luck he would get some of the next band of thieves on the
other
side
of the river.

When Mexican bandits did cross in November and pushed about 250 head south at Las Cuevas—known as a notorious headquarters point for stolen cattle—McNelly wired the Adjutant General of Texas he planned to go after them. He also said the Army refused to cross the border without further orders, but he would cross "tonight" if he could get any support.

He was attempting to get state officials to pressure Washington to release the Army.

Then, on November 18, he telegraphed Austin that he "commenced crossing at one o'clock tonight—have thirty men. Will try to recover our cattle. The U.S. troops promise to cover my return. . . ."

Las Cuevas lay about ten miles below Rio Grande City on the Mexican side, and about three miles back from the river. Between it and the Rio Grande was another ranch, called Las Cucharas, or "Cuchattus" in American accounts. Rancho Las Cuevas was presided over by General Juan Flores, who sold an immense number of cattle south and on the coast; there is no question whatever that thousands upon thousands of Texas beeves passed up the sandy banks onto Flores's pastures. Observers, both neutral and biased, left accounts of the brands seen on Las Cuevas cattle, most of which were registered Texas marks. McNelly intended to strike to the heart of the problem; his orders were to clean up the Rio Grande Valley; and if he had to start a war in the process, so be it. McNelly—and virtually everyone in Texas—felt he was in the right, and the Ranger code was that a good man who knew he was in the right could not be stopped if he "kept coming."

Interesting events led up to this crossing of Texas troops into Mexico. Shortly before, it became known to the Army command that Mexican rustlers were operating on the Texas side across from Las Cuevas. There were U.S. forces at Rio Grande City, at Edinburg to the north, and at Brownsville, many miles to the southeast. The detachment of 8th Cavalry at Edinburg was ordered into the field.

Colonel Potter at Brownsville ordered Captain Randlett, D Company, 8th Cavalry, to support the Rangers, to hit the cow thieves hard, and "if you come up with them while they cross the river, follow them into Mexico."

Randlett did catch up with some Mexicans crossing Texas cattle, fired on them and killed two, but then seems to have had a failure of nerve. He failed to cross in darkness, waiting until morning. With dawn, a superior officer, Major Clendenin from Edinburg, came up to him, approved his report, but countermanded the instructions to enter Mexico. Clendenin said this would be a warlike invasion of a peaceful country. Clendenin's real reason, apparently, was that he had opened negotiations with the
alcalde
at Las Cuevas and thought a crossing would show bad faith. Clendenin now received orders from Colonel Potter to do nothing until Major Alexander, from Ringgold Barracks, brought up more troops. The Army considered any move into Mexico as a major operation, requiring maximum force, though apparently all the officers involved did want to recover the stolen cattle.

In this situation McNelly, with thirty Rangers behind him, rode into the Army camp. He found the Army in paralysis, with two Gatling guns positioned to cover a crossing, but doing nothing. McNelly's troop covered sixty miles in something under five hours, and when they arrived next to the 100-odd regulars, McNelly sent one man to fetch a few muttons, while he tried to talk "the U.S. Captain" into doing something. The "U.S. Captain" refused to act, and McNelly said to his men, "We are going over if we never come back."

McNelly was about as foolhardy as a fox. His plan was simple: he would launch a foray into Mexico, seize a position in Las Cuevas, and force the Army to come to his assistance. McNelly did not believe the Army could stand by and let his men be slaughtered by the approximately 3,000
vaqueros
and Mexican troops in the area. There is no question that Major Clendenin, although he was under orders not to cross until Alexander came down from Ringgold Barracks, promised McNelly this support. As his report to the Adjutant General read, he said, ". . . If you are determined to cross, we will cover your return. . . ."

McNelly's own report makes it clear he believed he had a firm promise of assistance in case he got cut off in Mexico, which, though he did not say this to the officers, he intended to let happen.

McNelly mustered his thirty at midnight. "Boys, you have followed me as far as I can ask you to go unless you are willing to go farther. Some of us may get back . . . but if any of you do not want to go over with me, step aside. . . . You understand there is to be no surrender—we ask no quarter nor give any. If you don't want to go, step aside."

All thirty shouted to go.

"All right, that's the way to talk," McNelly said mildly. "We will learn them a Texas lesson that they have forgotten since the Mexican War. Get ready." Then he gave his battle instruction, clear, complete, and simple, as McNelly's battle orders always were. On the Mexican side, when they arrived at Las Cuevas, designated men had designated jobs. He ended, "Kill all you see except old men, women, and children. These are my orders and I want them obeyed to the letter."