A Texas Ranger’s tale of duty and regret

 Edited by Jim Fish

Uvalde— Ira Aten was no stranger to the hardships of frontier justice. As a member of Company D, Texas Rangers in the 1880s, he spent years tracking fugitives through the rugged canyons and river valleys of South Texas, a lawless expanse where outlaws could vanish for months, sometimes years.

But decades later, in an article published in the January 1945 issue of Frontier Times Magazine, Aten admitted that one arrest lingered in his memory as “the meanest thing I ever did.”

The case took him up the Nueces Canyon, some 80 miles from Uvalde, where he found a man wanted in Tennessee for a decades-old murder. The suspect, now middle-aged, had long since built a new life. He owned cattle and goats, lived quietly with his wife, and was raising six children.

"The canyons of the Sabinal, Frio, Nueces, Pecos, and Devil's Rivers formed a territory in which criminals from Eastern Texas, as well as from many of the Eastern States, could safely hide out. When we went on a scouting trip after such criminals, we generally took four men and a pack mule. 

“These pack mules were very much like dogs. You couldn't run away from them. On a march they might drop far behind and fall asleep, but when we went around a bend in the road and out of sight, they would come full-tilt until they caught sight of us again. Then the whole performance could be repeated. 

“If we were on a forced march one or two men always got behind the pack mules to keep the outfit together. One pack mule was generally used for every four men. It carried one blanket for each man, and the grub, consisting of flour, baking powder, bacon, coffee, and salt. Those were our usual scout rations. We often killed wild game while on the march and could get beef and mutton from the ranches we passed. There was always plenty of other food at our camp, but only essentials could be carried on a scouting trip.

"We carried our slickers, oiled raincoats, on our horses as there was always danger of overloading the pack mule. This animal was generally a small creature, so he could easily scale the mountain trails and keep up with us on a trip, and, as a rule, was an intelligent fellow, loved by all the boys. If the grass was short where we stopped, he would come into camp, step over our feet and legs, but never on us, and take a biscuit right out of our hands if we were not watchful.

“The big bread oven, coffee pot, frying pan, and large tin cups were always tied on the outside of the pack, and made an awful noise when the mule would run. It was a frightful sight to see one of these mules coming down the road at a gallop with the three legs of the oven high above the pack looking like antlers. Whenever we would pass a team and wagon and it would get between us and the pack mule, the latter would prick up his ears and come through on a dead run, with the frying pan, coffee pot, and big bright tin cups making a noise like an old-time charivari, only looking a great deal worse. 

“The team would readily give up the road to such a monster and go flying out through the brush. We came near causing several serious accidents because of the looks and noise made by our mule.

“After that, when we met a wagon with women and children in it, one of us would turn around and go ahead of the team until the pack mule was passed. When the mule saw one of our own horses coming, he would not cut up and act so ornery.

“Whenever we met just a man and team we would say. "Look out, there is a pack mule behind." If he had never met one before and kept on down the road, his team soon went out through the brush with him hollering, "Whoa! whoa!" to no avail. We boys got a great laugh out of such tricks, but it was cruel laughter.

“It was on one of these scouting trips up the Nueces canyon, some eighty miles from Uvalde, that I located a man who was wanted back in Tennessee for murder. He was at a lonely place far up the canyon. Very few, if any, of the houses in that country during those early days were fenced. You could ride right up to the door and holler, "Hello!"

“In rounding up a house in which we believed a suspect might be hiding, either by day or night, the pack mule, with all his equipment, was always at our heels. He would run around the house a time or two, snort several times, as only a mule or jackass can do, and then go to graze on nearby grass, leaving it up to us to finish the job.”

“When we rode up to this house and called for the occupants, a man past middle age came out. He was the one I wanted, so I read the warrant for his arrest, charging him with murder. I will never forget the downcast look on his face as he listened to me read.

“When he was a young man, some 30 years before, he had killed his rival in love and then became a wanderer for many years. He came to Texas, married, and drifted out to the western part of the state. It was at his home in Nueces Canyon that we had picked him up. 

“He had never told his wife anything much about his past life. He had been a hard worker and had accumulated some cattle and goats. He had a family of six children, the oldest boy being about fourteen.

“I shall never forget the scene when the news was broken to his wife and children. His wife, wringing her hands in anguish, wanting to know what it was all about, wept as though her heart would break. The little children clung to his hands and around his legs; crying, "Papa, don't go; don't go, Papa." He bade his wife and children goodbye, saying, "I may never return."

“I felt tears running down my cheeks and I looked around at the boys, who sat on their horses nearby. Not a dry eye could I see. We cut the farewell short and were soon off on our long journey back to Uvalde, a three-day-ride. On our way back, I stopped at the home of the nearest neighbor, five miles: away, and asked them to look after the man's family, feeling that he would return to them before long.

“The trip to Uvalde was not any different from the many we had made before. However, I will say that this prisoner was one of the most obedient and agreeable men I ever had to bring in. He was handcuffed to one of the boys each night, as was our custom, for safety. This was done so we would not have to stand guard. Our prisoners seldom ever made even the slightest effort to break away from us at any time, after getting them under control. We also had leg irons with us on these trips but used them only when we knew the prisoner was a dangerous man.

“This man was sent back to Tennessee for trial on the old charge. I wrote a letter to the state officials, telling all the circumstances, about the family in the far away mountains without protection, and the loved ones at his home. 

“He stayed in jail about six months. As the State could not get the witnesses against him to make a case, some of them having died, and others out of the state, he was released and immediately returned to his family in the mountains. I began to think maybe I was too zealous in hunting down criminals after this sad experience.”