Texas Devils: Rangers and Regulars on the Lower Rio Grande, 1846-1861 (review)

In recent years, the Texas Rangers have once again become popular subjects of serious professional study. The last decade alone has seen the publication of a sweeping, two-volume history of the force from its inception to the present; two books offering competing visions of Ranger vigilance in South Texas during the Mexican Revolution; and a study comparing the legendary Texas lawmen with their northern counterparts, the Canadian Mounties. Now comes Michael Collins's new book, Texas Devils, which focuses on a period usually given short shrift in Ranger histories, those years between Texas independence and the coming of the U.S. Civil War, a time in Texas history characterized by aggressive Anglo expansion into the western and southern reaches of the state and attendant resistance from natives and Mexicans.

To be sure, there are good reasons why scholars have largely avoided this stretch of Ranger history. For one thing, this period is perhaps best described as the awkward adolescence of the force, falling as it does between the establishment of the Rangers in 1823 as citizen-soldiers and their professionalization five decades later as a modern paramilitary organization. More significantly, the era explored by Collins marks one of the uglier chapters in Ranger lore, especially with regard to their brutal treatment of Mexicans and Mexican-Americans, a dubious legacy that stains the reputation of the force among Hispanic residents of Texas and the greater Southwest down to the present day. Despite his sometimes admiring recapitulation of acts of Ranger bravery, Collins leaves little doubt as to where he comes down on the matter, from the very title of the book to its final paragraph, where he writes: "Were they heroic Rangers or riders from hell? A large body of evidence – much of it previously neglected if not ignored – points to a few of the former, and an even greater number of the latter" (p. 258).

Collins does a wonderful job in sifting through this evidence, which consists of memoirs, correspondence, government documents, and newspapers. And along the way, he brings a handful of notable characters to life, chief among them John Salmon "Rip" Ford, who served in multiple Ranger campaigns and who deeply impressed artist Frederic Remington when the two met in San Antonio not long before the old Ranger passed away in 1897. What's more, Texas Devils is an enjoyable read in addition to being a useful resource for historians of Texas. That said, one wishes that Collins had fleshed out the narrative with further context. While readers can probably imagine some of the reasons behind the bloody conflicts between the Rangers and their Indian and Mexican adversaries, others may wish for further information about the historical roots of these animosities. For instance, the opening chapter on Ranger atrocities in the U.S.-Mexican War begins almost in medias res, expecting that the audience knows the outlines of what one historian has called "a short, offhand killing affair." Still, Collins has written a most engaging account of a forgotten period in Ranger history, and one that is certain to discomfit all but the most unreconstructed of Ranger apologists.