The Alamo Bride

by Kathleen Y'Barbo

  She quickly swiped them away. How dare this man say something so horrible to Grandfather?

  “The Lord, He honors those who have faith in Him,” Grandfather finally said. “I believe He will keep watch over me and my family. I cannot say the outcome of the coming war just as I could not have predicted the loss of my beloved wife, but I can say that much for certain.”

  “You have a successful business and a name that is well known,” the other man said. “Do you not think the general will wish your shipbuilding enterprise for his own and your head on a platter so he may gloat to his enemies?”

  “Let him then,” Grandfather said.

  “Mark my words. He is coming for you by land and by sea. Can you not see past your foolishness to at least protect what remains of your family before they are all murdered in their beds?”

  Ellis covered her mouth with her hand to stifle a gasp. In the process, the basket tumbled from her arm and scattered herbs on the ground at her feet. She knelt down to pick them up only to hear the clatter of boots on the stones.

  Grandfather arrived first followed by a rather menacing man of a similar age. Where her grandfather’s hair still bore traces of the dark hair of his youth, the stranger’s hair was pure white.

  “Who is this?” he asked, his tone almost wistful. “I believe I know that face, although I did not expect to see it here.”

  Grandfather took Ellis’s basket and set it aside and then reached for her hand to help her climb to her feet. “What are you doing here, and where is your escort?” he asked, ignoring the other man’s question.

  “I came to bring a remedy for your cough. The boys have been assigned tasks that kept them from accompanying me.”

  She almost added “Grandfather” to that statement, but something in his eyes caused her not to indicate their relationship. He would explain later, of this she felt sure, but for now her grandfather was wordlessly imploring her to leave. She gave him an almost imperceptible nod.

  “Please thank your mother for me. Hurry home to her now, and in the future do not come alone.” He reached for the basket and then nodded for the stranger to follow as he turned his back on Ellis.

  “Have I just seen a ghost?” the stranger demanded as he remained rooted in place. “This woman, she is the image of the painting in the parlor, and yet that is impossible.”

  Grandfather cast a glance over his shoulder to meet her questioning stare. “Go on home now,” he told her. And to the stranger he said, “Our discussion is not done, Henri, but my time is limited. What is it to be?”

  The man her grandfather called Henri gave her one last long look and then turned to follow. At the corner of the building, he paused once more.

  “Your name,” he called to Ellis. “Is it also Maribel?”

  “Do not answer this man,” Grandfather called. “And should he persist in his questions, he will regret it.”

  The man called Henri turned to argue with Grandfather, leaving Ellis to show the pretense of returning to the canoe that would take her back to Quintana. In truth, she merely found a less visible place from which she could observe the goings-on.

  A short while later, the silver-haired stranger stormed past her hiding place with no visible indication that he knew she was close by. Ellis stalled a few moments to make sure the man did not change his mind and return. When she stood up and stepped back onto the path, Grandfather was waiting for her.

  “How did you do that?” she said, startled. “I was watching the path for anyone who passed by.”

  Her grandfather chuckled and linked his arm with hers. “Ellis, dear, you were watching the path where you expected someone would be. You must never be blinded by what you expect. Always allow for the unexpected.” He paused to give her a sideways look. “And always have a lookout. That’s why you should never travel from Quintana alone.”

  “I am observant,” she argued.

  “Observant enough to let an old man find you without being detected.”

  “I do see your point,” Ellis said as she matched her step with his. They made their way past the spot where she dropped the herbs and around to the wide expanse of porch that shaded the ocean-facing side of the Valmont home.

  “Who was that man?” she asked as soon as they had settled side by side on the bench her father had built last winter from a felled log.

  “No one you wish to know,” he told her.

  “And yet he knew you. And Grandmother.” She paused. “And he thought he knew me.”

  “Ellis,” he said on an exhale of breath, “it is so easy to forget you’ve reached the age of a grown woman when I so want to respond as if you were still a child. The thing that makes me unsure as to which you truly are is the fact that you could only know these things if you were eavesdropping.” He paused to slide her a sideways glance. “Which is something a well-brought-up young woman would not do.”

  She shrugged. “I beg to differ. I am well brought up, and yet when someone I love is being threatened, I go to whatever lengths necessary to protect them.” It was her turn to pause and meet his stare. “Including eavesdropping.”

  Grandfather Valmont chuckled again. “Yes, I suppose you were doomed to inherit that from both sides of your family. You are both Ellis and Valmont.”

  “Hence my name?” she said with a grin that matched his.

  Her grandfather’s statement had been a joke at its inception, with Grandfather warning his son not to make the mistake of naming his firstborn daughter after two strong-minded women. Going against that advice, her parents had christened her Ellis Maribel Valmont, and according to some members of the family, her fate had been sealed.

  Thus, between her Valmont heritage, which included her great-grandmother Maribel, and her Ellis heritage from Claire, she had indeed descended from strong stock. Mama would call it stubborn.

  “I will have your promise that you do not make this trip alone again. And at the first opportunity, I will speak with your mother regarding my reasons.”

  She turned to look at him. “As you say, I am a grown woman. Why not speak with me regarding your reasons?”

  “Because my reasons are not what matters.” His expression softened. “Your safety is what I care most about. And while it may be perfectly safe to visit me in the light of day, I have grave concerns regarding what happens along the river between Quintana and Velasco under the cover of darkness.”

  “Oh,” she said as she contemplated his meaning. “Then I do promise.”

  He patted her hand and nodded. “Thank you. I look forward to a day when that promise is no longer necessary.”

  “As do I.”

  Ellis and her grandfather fell into companionable silence as the activity down at the docks increased. With the sun now fully overhead, some of the ships had begun to disgorge themselves of cargo and persons. Others were doing just the opposite.

  Ellis, however, was still trying to piece together the puzzle of the overheard conversation. She had already considered several scenarios and decided how she would respond depending on what her grandfather was willing to admit.

  “So this man, Henri,” she finally said with her arguments ready, “he was your rival for Grandmother’s affections?”

  “Oh child, I should have known you gave up too quickly. Have you an entire conversation planned out in that brilliant mind of yours? Perhaps with answers to arguments I have not yet made?”

  She shrugged. He knew her too well.

  Wrapping a protective arm around her, Grandfather Valmont sighed. “All right, if you must know, I did indeed win your grandmother’s affection despite his pursuit of her. That Henri was not her first choice has long plagued him.”

  “You seem much nicer,” Ellis said as she snuggled into his embrace. “I’m glad she chose you.”

  “Well, thank you, but I’m not so sure I was all that nice back then. Still, Claire had a mind of her own, and nothing would sway her from her decision to make a life with me, even when the Lord led us to places where n
o lady of good standing would have willingly gone.”

  “She had good standing,” Ellis protested. “She just wanted to be where you were.”

  “She did at that.” He paused. “As to his mention of the painting, I suppose you’re also curious?”

  “I am.”

  “Well, that’s a story I will leave for another day, except to say that when Henri and I were boys, we thought it great sport to sneak into my mother’s parlor and play our games there. My mama, she was quite certain rowdy boys did not belong amongst her precious things, so we were not supposed to enter that room.”

  “But you did,” Ellis supplied.

  “Of course,” he said. “What Valmont has ever been able to resist a challenge?” At her smile, he continued. “The most memorable thing about that room, which was filled floor to ceiling with books of all sorts, was the painting of my mother that hung over the fireplace.”

  “Maribel,” she said.

  “Yes, Maribel. The portrait was done when she was just about your age.”

  “And she favors me?”

  “My child,” he said slowly, “if she stood beside you today, no one could tell the difference. Henri certainly could not.”

  “That man, Henri. He threatened you. And he made claims about Papa and my brother.” Though Ellis had planned to be quite strong when she broached this topic, the legendary Valmont and Ellis strength failed her as tears began to flow.

  “Child,” Grandfather said gently as he cradled her in his arms. “Dry your tears and pay no heed to the words of a fool. He cannot know half of what he claims. Do you trust your papa to bring himself and your brother home safely?”

  “Much as it is in his power to do so, yes, I do,” she said. “But—”

  “No buts,” Grandfather said. “Trust does not allow for any buts. We pray for their safe return until the Lord shows us proof that was not His will.”

  “So it is possible Henri knows something about them.”

  “About as possible as it is for that sun to turn around and go back the direction it came,” he said with a shake of his head.

  “But just as he said, there is a vessel from New Orleans in the harbor,” she protested. “I heard talk of it in town. Men from New Orleans fitted out in grey uniforms have come to join the fight.”

  “Well, yes, but did you ever consider he might have gotten his information from the same source?”

  “No,” she said softly.

  “The Greys have been expected for weeks. It would be no trick to know they are here.” Grandfather motioned to the shimmering body of water the Spaniards called the Seno Mexicano—the Gulf of Mexico. “See that ship there docked at the end of the pier? The one with the three masts? That’s the Columbia, the ship with the Greys aboard. They’ll be marching off soon, I’ll reckon. Should be a sight to see.”

  Ellis looked up at him, her interest renewed. “Then let’s go see them.”

  “You go along without me,” he said. “I’ve got enough to do at the shipyard. Although it is likely you’ve got things to do at home.”

  She had plenty to do, of course. With Papa and her older brother away, their work fell to Ellis and Mama. The little ones were as helpful as they could be, but their age kept the two boys from offering much aid when men’s work needed doing.

  Grandfather Valmont covered her hand with his. “It is a great regret of mine that your father brought you children here.”

  Once again, Ellis gasped. Not once in all the years since the Valmonts had arrived on Texas shores had her grandfather stated anything close to this sort of sentiment.

  “I know,” he said with a chuckle that held no humor. “I suppose you’re quite shocked.”

  “I am. You love Texas,” she protested. “I’ve lost count of how many times you’ve told me this. So I don’t understand.”

  “No,” he said gently. “I don’t suppose you would.”

  Grandfather Valmont paused to allow a wry smile. “For me, Texas is home. It is the place I belong.” He gave Ellis a sweeping glance and then shook his head. “But you, my child? I am not so certain. Here you sit wearing a simple cotton dress and rebozo. Were it not for the quality of your scarf and the red color of your hair, no one would know you from any of our Tejano neighbors. Even then perhaps not, for they have much Spanish blood amongst them.”

  “And there is nothing wrong with that,” she snapped. “My clothes are suited to the heat here, and there is nothing wrong with dressing in a similar way to neighbors who have been so good to us. Not all persons of Mexican descent are the enemy, Grandfather.”

  “Of course not,” he said. “I employ many good men of Mexican citizenship, and count many more Tejanos than that among my dear friends. For that matter, we are all citizens of Mexico until the question is finally settled with war. But none of this is what has given me cause to speak as I have.”

  “Then what is the cause?” she said, looking up into kind eyes that were dark like Papa’s.

  “When I see you, my only granddaughter, my thoughts go to my mother—your great-grandmother—Maribel. My mother was a woman who highly approved of great adventures, but I wonder if she too might prefer that you were back in New Orleans preparing for a wedding rather than here in Velasco praying against the coming war.”

  She gave a moment’s thought to his statement and then shook her head. “I never knew her, but you did. Wouldn’t she approve of a cause so worthy?”

  “I suppose she would, though there is a big difference in approving of a cause and approving of a loved one living in danger due to that cause,” he said. “I would much prefer to see you living a comfortable life back in New Orleans. You would be the belle of every ball and would have dozens of the city’s most eligible bachelors lined up at the door to court you.”

  “Grandfather, really,” she said.

  “Hear me out, my dear. You would exchange your sandals for slippers of the finest kid leather, and you’d certainly be clothed in silks rather than plain cotton.” He shrugged. “That is the life I wish for you. Not this one.”

  Just for a moment, Ellis allowed herself to try to imagine what that life might be like. The best she could do was think back to the days before they arrived here in Texas, to call up vague memories of cool marble floors and impossibly high beds with yards of fabric flounced around them and canopies that reached almost to the sky.

  “I see you agree,” he said sadly. “And for that I ask forgiveness.”

  “I do not agree,” she said. “First, it was Papa who led us here, not you. You followed because you love us and, like my papa and your mother, you enjoy a grand adventure.”

  Her grandfather’s expression lifted. “That is a fact.”

  “Much as the comfort of New Orleans would likely be tempting, I only remember it fondly and nothing more. Given the choice, I will take sandals and cotton to slippers and silks any day.”

  He peered at her. “I’m not sure I believe you.”

  Ellis shrugged. “It is the truth. I am where I was meant to be.” A movement in the harbor caught her attention, and she nudged her grandfather. “Look there. I see a boat setting off from the vessel that has brought the Greys. Do you think they are coming ashore now?”

  Grandfather grinned and stood. “There’s only one way to know for sure. You watch that boat and see where it is going while I fetch my spyglass.”

  He disappeared inside the house only to return a few minutes later with a shiny brass spyglass. Ellis recognized it immediately as the spyglass he had inherited from his mother, Maribel Cordoba Valmont.

  Legend had it that Maribel Cordoba carried this spyglass with her aboard the privateer Jean-Luc Valmont’s ship when she served as a lookout for pirates in her youth. After marrying the privateer and taking to sea with him to serve a greater mission antagonizing slave ships, she once again employed the spyglass, at least until the arrival of the Valmont children sidelined them both.

  Until now, none of the Valmont children had been allowed to t
ouch the precious item that Grandfather kept under lock and key. Ellis gasped as a shaft of sunlight shone across its golden surface, illuminating fingerprints that were too small for Grandfather to have made.

  “Are those hers?” Ellis asked.

  “I believe they are. I should have the brass polished but I believe her marks belong there, don’t you?”

  “I do,” she said on a whisper of breath.

  Grandfather handed the spyglass to her with care and then showed her how to lift the small end to her eye. “Close the other eye and it’ll all come into focus,” he told her, and to her surprise, it did.

  “I see them,” she said as the distant scene suddenly became crystal clear.

  “Tell me what you see, then,” Grandfather said.

  “I see a boat coming ashore with men dressed in grey.”

  “Hence the name, I suppose,” he said. “What else?”

  Through the spyglass she scanned the faces of the men. Eyes facing forward and backs straight, most wore the blank expressions of men headed toward a task they’d settled their minds upon. Then her gaze landed on a dark-haired man seated near the front of the vessel.

  Unlike the others, this man’s attention was constantly shifting. Had he not been dressed in the same manner as the others and seated among them, Ellis might have taken him to be their leader.

  When his attention shifted her direction, Ellis jolted. It was as if he was looking directly at her.

  “Well, what is it?” Grandfather asked.

  A coughing fit prevented any further words between them. Ellis lowered the spyglass and regarded her grandfather with a practiced eye. How had she missed the signs that lack of rest showed?

  “After I administer the herbs for that—” She paused to choose her words carefully. “Shall I also prepare a remedy for sleeping and leave it with you for tonight?”

  “Heavens, no,” he said when he regained his speech. “If I were to succumb to one of your mother’s sleeping remedies, which I assume is the recipe you use, then I’d be hard-pressed to fight off anyone who caught me abed.”