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164 Chapter 10 “Got drunk often, and stayed drunk long” Although written documentation is elusive there really is little doubt Captain Roberts had undervalued the antipathy of Menard County ’s electorate. Dan Roberts’ Texas Hill Country standing as a gutsy Indian fighter was rock solid. Citizens throughout Texas—those that were paying attention—could easily conclude Captain Roberts was also overseeing Company D’s transformation into a well seasoned brotherhood of peace officers. Conversely, for good or bad, Roberts didn’t have any political muscle power. Just as fuzzy are N. O. Reynolds’ true thoughts when he learned that Dan Roberts had now undergone a change of heart and would tightly clutch control of Company D. Even cursory examination of Company D’s Monthly Returns and other official correspondence with Texas Ranger headquarters at Austin is illuminating. These records reveal the men of Company D were almost constantly scouting or assisting local sheriffs as guardians of the District Courts when in session. Fresh reports of cattle rustling poured into the Texas Ranger camp at an alarming rate. Their hard days and long nights spent in the saddle chasing after badmen—and sometimes catching them—is worthy of esteem. Often as not they returned to camp empty-handed. Making an arrest is never routine. What grabbed the headlines then, or historians notice now, is something going awry—when six-shooters or Winchesters bark death’s call. Safely conducted arrests were jotted in Company D’s Monthly Returns with nonchalance, mundane statistics scarcely insistent of notice. The hunt for Rube Boyce, however, continued taking up an inordinate amount of their time and interest.1 Collectively, however , they were earning legendary status in the eyes of most Texans . Although Adjutant General Jones’ health was beginning to fail, he had deftly crunched the numbers, recognizing the grueling and day after day work executed by Company D’s Texas Rangers. ­ Captain “Got drunk often, and stayed drunk long” 165­ Roberts pledged to keep hammering away: “I am much obliged for your report, and am proud to see Co. ‘D’ show up respectably in tabulated statement of work, and will strive to keep it in the front rank.”2 Perhaps tearing a page from successful business models, a touch of friendly competition between ranger companies would keep everyone leaning forward in the foxhole—and on their toes. Those everyday working Texas Rangers of Company D that were not suitably performing, but were not “fairly termed worthless,” were given a gentle nudge to move on down the line, the captain hinting a fellow might “had better apply for a discharge.” It was a management practice that, according to Captain Roberts, “works like a charm.” The method had been hatched behind closed doors, based on Adjutant General Jones’ “private suggestion.”3 Whether Privates Oscar Oberwetter , Fred Turnbull, J. W. Warren, R. G. Kimbell, R. C. Roberts, and T. E. Dozier saw any handwriting on the wall, or simply had better career opportunities elsewhere is admittedly unknown, but one and all resigned from Company D during April of 1881.4 Those Texas Rangers may not have been having near as much fun in camp as Mrs. Lou Roberts. After a target was set up at 40 yards she demonstrated her skill with a Winchester, shooting near as well as Private S. D. Coalson, an Illinois-born twenty-three-yearold . She was so excited about her marksmanship that she prevailed on her husband to enclose the target with one of his reports to the Texas Ranger Quartermaster at Austin, Captain Coldwell.5 Everyday camp life wasn’t all that bad—for a captain’s wife. Three other Texas Rangers wanted to stay with the Frontier Battalion —and out of the state penitentiary. The trio were not Company D rangers, but the falling dominos of changing times had borne a new notion, one that would still be in place for twenty-first-century law enforcement agencies: Internal Affairs. Company D management would be openly involved, the rank and file indirectly—but watching from afar with curiosity. During the nineteenth-century, end of the line railroad towns were trouble. The flotsam and jetsam of the frontier fattened their wallets at the expense of construction gangs and track layers.6 As the tracks inched ever closer to a terminus, leaving tent cities and clapboard towns in their wake, the riffraff needed to feed on new prey: “So, when it became necessary for the early parasites to find nourishment, they went to work on...

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