A "Grandstander"—The Sheriff takes possession—Night Watchman—Monte Jim—Further trouble.

Besides Henry Burns, the sheriff, there was also another man whose re-election I opposed. He was the city marshal of Uvalde, and a regular “grandstander,” as they call a man who is always striking poses. The young man before mentioned as having caused so much trouble on my first fishing trip, got drunk and disorderly once in Uvalde, and some one told the city marshal. Instead of quietly arresting the young fellow, he walked up pompously, drew his pistol, and sticking it in Jim’s face arrested him in the name of the State. To his astonishment Jim made a snatch and took the gun away before the marshal was quite through posing, which was manifestly taking a mean advantage of him. Then Jim said, "Run, you coyote, or I’ll kill you," and run the marshal did, with Jim after him; and at every jump he would shout "Don’t shoot, Jim." Finally Jim tired and let him go, and the marshal never had the nerve to lay any complaint. So at the next election we ran him out.

While I was working on the branch railway to the mine, there was a gang of nine men putting up small bridges and culverts. All the members of this gang were relations, except one man, and he was made the butt of all the jokes and horseplay; and some of them were pretty rough. Finally one day the worm turned and said to his tormentors that he had stood all he was going to stand, then walked off towards their camp, about two miles away. They passed it off with a laugh, thinking they could smooth him down in the evening when they returned to camp. But to their astonishment he turned up again, in about an hour, armed with a shot-gun, and aiming it at his principal tormentor he told him he would give him a minute to say anything he wished to, or to pray if he so desired. The bridgeman told him, at the end of the time, to go ahead and shoot if he intended to, as he was ready. The man stood for a minute hesitating, then turned and walked down to the mines. I had rather liked the fellow, and felt sorry for him, and when I heard of the trouble I went and had a talk with him before he left. I asked him why he had walked four miles for a gun and then not used it. He said, “I intended to kill him up to the last second, and then to wipe out as many of the rest of them as I could. But I could not shoot him while he stood still. If he had come at me, or run away, or if any of the others had moved, I should have fired, but I could not as things were.”

About this time there occurred a rather amusing shooting case in Uvalde. Our head book-keeper was a Texan, the shipping clerk was a New Yorker. They went to town together to celebrate. When they were both half drunk, the Texan asked the other if he had a gun, and on his replying “No” he seemed much shocked, and said he would borrow one for him. This he proceeded to do from a bar-keeper, and handed it to Tom the New Yorker, who, however, was too drunk to put it away in his pocket, and for the rest of the time carried it in his hand. After a few more drinks they got into some argument on the street, and the next minute the Texan was emptying his gun at Tom. The latter was so far gone that he had actually forgotten the gun in his hand, and never used it at all; in fact, he did not know that the Texan was firing at him at all—so he said the next morning in court. Luckily no one was hit, but the book-keeper was fined fifty dollars for “shooting in the city limits.”

While I was agent for the New York paint firm the company began to get into difficulties, but the first intimation we had of it was when the sheriff drove out one day and seized the property in the name of the bondholders. This threw us all out of our jobs, and the place was closed down. This was tough, as I was a shareholder, and my father was a bondholder; however, I got an offer of a few days’ surveying of some boundary lines for a man, but it turned out a poor job for me; for while I was away the court appointed watchmen, and I lost the chance of this. There were four watchmen appointed, one from Uvalde, and the other three were the superintendent, the foreman, and the shipping clerk I mentioned above. I certainly was disappointed when I got back and found out what I had missed. I had to send my wife and boy off to Vancouver, B.C., to her mother, and settled down to wait till the court proceedings were over. After a few weeks the shipping clerk got sick and I was put as night watchman in his place, which job I shared with Betner the foreman. He watched the far buildings on the hill and I watched the main buildings and the offices. At midnight I cooked supper and then whistled for him to come in and eat. He used to order me about more than I thought was justified in our present positions, so one night I “called his bluff” and told him I would have no more. The next morning Mr. Brown, the superintendent, sent for me and told me that I had been reported by Betner for reading on my watch instead of attending to my duties. We were entitled to an hour for supper, but it seldom took us over ten or fifteen minutes to eat. As soon as Betner was through he used to take a nap for the balance of the hour near the stove, and I used to read. I used to wake him when the hour was up and we went back to work. This was the reading he tried to make Mr. Brown believe I did all night. I explained this to Mr. Brown, and he said it was all right. This last straw put me in fighting trim, and that night I cooked my own supper and ate it, and when Betner came in I gave him my opinion of him in language he could understand. I told him also that in future he could cook his own meals, as I would have nothing further to do with him. But if he bothered me again I would beat him, and if he bluffed with his gun I would kill him. He then showed the stuff that was in him, for at first he blustered and finally crawled.

Some few months afterwards, when the receivership was done away with, Betner and Brown quarrelled, and Betner was dismissed. We were none of us sorry to see him go. It was a case like the bad man who was dying. A clergyman went to see if he could make him repent. He pictured the future in such glowing terms that he had the man convinced. At last he said, “Brother, are you not ready to go?” and the bad man replied, “Yes, I am very glad.” “Thank Heaven,” said the pastor, “because that makes it unanimous.” I don’t think, however, Betner was glad to go, though I can swear that the rest of us were unanimous.

The bondholders now took hold of the property, and we started up again and I sent for my family. The shipping clerk had left in the meantime, and I was appointed shipping and material clerk, and also had charge of the company’s commissary store, in which I had two assistants. A new foreman was brought in from San Antonio. He was known by the name of “Monte Jim,” having been at one time a professional gambler (Monte being a Mexican gambling game). How Mr. Brown ever came to hire him I don’t know, as the man was a crook of the worst kind. The first trouble I had with him was when I found out he was playing poker with one of my store boys, and that the latter in order to pay his debts was stealing from the store. I stopped this by firing the boy and warning Monte that he had to stop this business. Later we clashed again on the question of authority. Mr. Brown had told me that in the commissary and material storeroom I was supreme, and laid down certain hours during which they were to be open. Monte disputed my authority one day, and ordered me to close the store and open the storeroom for him out of hours; we had an argument, and I ran him out of the store, and after this we had no more trouble. He was, I knew, taking rebates from the men (that is, the men paid him part of their pay to be easy on them). I was not hunting trouble, however, so kept my knowledge to myself, especially as it would have been practically impossible to prove a case against him. The men would naturally all have sworn that it was not so, if inquiry had been made. He was also, I heard, bringing liquor into the place and selling it to the men, besides increasing his income playing poker. One day he came to me and asked me to lend him my pistol, as he was going to town in company with the pit-foreman, the latter’s daughter, and the pumper; and was taking in a good deal of money to the bank. I refused to lend my gun (as I did not want it confiscated in case of trouble), but lent him a 44 rifle carbine, which would serve better to protect the cash but could hardly be carried round town for trouble purposes—at least so I then thought. I did not like the idea of the girl going, as the men were all hard drinkers, and her father I knew had already killed two men. He had got into a fight with them in a saloon, and one of them had knocked him down. As he fell he drew his gun and killed them both, getting off, of course, on the ground of self-defence. However, I could not say anything, and anyway it was none of my business, so off they started. In the evening the girl walked past the office by herself. I asked her where her father, Monte, and the pumper were. She told me her father had driven round by the back gate, so she had got out and cut across; that the pumper had fallen out of the wagon about half a mile back; and Monte was riding in by himself on horseback.

I went out to see about the pumper, and on my way passed the pit-foreman in the wagon trying to drive the team across the pit, and the unhappy owner of the wagon running like mad to save his team from destruction!

The pumper I found sleeping in a sage brush where he had fallen, and had him brought in. After a while, Monte came in and I got my rifle away from him. It seemed that they had quarrelled in town, and that the pit-boss, his daughter, and the pumper had driven off in the wagon, leaving Monte to walk. The latter had hired a horse and started in pursuit; when he came in sight of the wagon he started shooting with my rifle to stop them. On this the pit-boss said he would go back and kill him. But as he was getting out of the wagon his daughter slipped his pistol out of the holster. Luckily for the unarmed pit-boss, Monte did not await his arrival, but rode off when he saw him climb out of the wagon. The rest of them came on home, but as they were rounding a corner the pumper, who had stood up to make a speech (on the evils of drink, I presume), fell out, and slept peacefully till I rescued him. This escapade was the end of Monte Jim and the others, and I was put in charge of the works as foreman, still retaining my other jobs.