by Drew McGunn
Captain Thompson’s smile was tinged with melancholy. “It’ll be good to spend Christmas with family. As a navy man that often doesn’t happen. It’ll be a quieter celebration this time around.”
Without thinking, Charlie asked, “Why?”
With a conspiratorial and exaggerated wink at the youth, “The price of whiskey is four times what it was last Christmas. Now, lad, how’s a sailor supposed to celebrate his savior’s birth if he can’t afford to lift up a glass or two as a toast?”
Charlie was laughing at Thompson’s reply as the sailors of the Nueces secured the ship to the pier. Even his pa wore a cheerful smile.
“General, you’re welcome to join my family for dinner, if you’ve not made other arrangements.”
Travis grabbed his gear and headed toward the gangplank, “Much obliged, I have a business associate I’d like to see before catching the ferry to Anahuac tomorrow.”
Charlie watched with his pa while the other men who had been part of his rescue assembled on deck. Sergeant Jensen and Rangers Running Creek and LeBlanc were dressed in their worn and patched butternut uniforms. Javier Morales and Lobo stood off to the side. Without their help, Charlie shuddered to think how bad things could have been. They had made it possible for his pa to rescue him. Travis drew up straight before the three Rangers and gave them a crisp salute, “When there’s a dangerous mission, there are no men I’d rather have at my side then Hays’ Special command. Y’all went way beyond what was required and if I can ever repay you, look me up.”
He turned to the two Mexicans and switched over to Spanish, “Lieutenant, it is a small measure of my gratitude, but if you or Lobo need a place to work, I can give you a letter of recommendation to the Gulf Farms Corporation. I think my word still carries a bit of weight with Don Garza.”
Eventually, the other men moved off, and Charlie was alone with his pa on the dock. “Go fetch Cuffey and let’s see if we can find Mr. Williams’ house. He and I have some catching up to do.”
***
The greenish-gray surf pounded the beach as Will watched Charlie and Samuel Williams’ son, Austin racing along the sand. He sat in the wicker chair next to his business partner.
“You mean to tell me all of the bank’s capital is holding treasury certificates, including our depositors’ money?”
Williams smiled apologetically, “General, the whole house of cards our national finances are built on nearly came down around Michel Menard’s ear. If I hadn’t stepped in and used our reserves, the entire bond market would have collapsed.”
Will shook his head, “Oh, I don’t doubt you, Sam. It’s just, damn, all our depositors’ money? People have got to be howling.”
“Your wife included.” Williams explained about the meeting with Becky Travis the previous month, “You’ve married yourself a good one. She wasn’t going to turn loose without something.”
Will’s heart ached at hearing Becky’s name. “I miss her something powerful, Sam. When I get back to San Antonio, I don’t imagine you or anyone else will be able to pry me loose for a very long time.” He wasn’t able to keep the longing from his voice, and he was rewarded with a poke in the ribs for his candor.
“Good news for you. I understand your wife and family are living in West Liberty. With any luck, she’ll be in your arms tomorrow.”
The news buoyed Will’s spirit. “Don’t doubt it, Sam. I’m done with the army. I’m going to focus on providing for my wife and children. I’ve missed too much of Charlie’s life, and I’m not going to repeat that mistake with Liza or David.”
Williams leaned over the chair, “A man like you doesn’t just say that without something else in mind, General.”
Will shifted his gaze and watched the children at play on the beach. It was the dead of winter, but Charlie and Austin Williams were far from the only youngsters racing up and down the sand dunes. “When I left off for Mexico, Dr. Smith had discovered a rather unstable chemical compound that he turned over to Gail Bordon. I want to catch up with what Mr. Bordon has been working on, but in addition to that, I’ve a mind to work with him and a young patent clerk in Austin. I’ve got some ideas that could industrialize Galveston Bay. Maybe even give Texas a second export than just cotton.”
Williams whistled appreciatively, “Do tell.”
The sun sank below the western Gulf before Will and Sam rounded up their sons and walked back to the Williams’ home.
***
A squall to rival a tornado ripped through the Travis home. Becky turned around in time to see her toddler dumping the dregs of a flour bag onto her little brother, who protested with all his might.
“Liza, quit picking on your brother!” Becky’s voice was loud enough to startle her daughter, who joined her little brother in a harmony of caterwauling.
“You’re outnumbered, dear,” Elizabeth said from the safety of a rocking chair in the corner.
Becky glared at her mother as she picked up David and dusted the flour from his powdery hair. “You could help.”
She received back a raspy chuckle, “Let me know how you manage it when you’ve got six children under your feet. Lordy, I don’t know how I managed.”
Becky moved around the center of the one-room cabin until David calmed down. She saw her mother was lost in thought.
She circled around until she deposited David into his grandmother’s open arms. “I miss Pa, too. I still can’t imagine that David Crockett won’t eventually walk through that door.”
Elizabeth patted her on the hand, “Am I that easy to read? This is the first Christmas without him since he brought us to Texas. To know there will never be another, that’s hard.”
Becky felt the tears welling up in her eyes when there was a knock at the door. She looked questioningly to her mother. Elizabeth shrugged, “Maybe someone with laundry?”
With a shake of her head, Becky crossed the room and lifted the handle. Standing in the doorway was Will. She squealed at the sight of her husband and threw her arms around his neck. The tears which had threatened to spill down her cheeks only moments before, freely flowed. “Oh, Will, I’ve missed you so much!”
She felt his body as he clung tightly to her. “Becky, I don’t ever want to be apart from you again.” His lips searched for hers, and they clung to each other until Charlie coughed noisily. “A man could freeze standing on the porch.”
Becky laughed at hearing her stepson’s voice, as she swept her husband into the small cabin. “You found him.” She detached herself long enough to pull the youth into the hug.
From the rocking chair, Elizabeth came over, with little David hanging on her hip. Becky reached out and pulled her mother and her son into the embrace. A tug on her dress followed by a plaintive, “Mama,” from knee level reminded Becky that for the first time in the better part of a year, her family was together.
Chapter 15
Lying next to Becky felt both right and strange after so many months away. Will turned onto his side and draped his arm over her. He could hear little David tossing about in his crib. In the corner of the cabin, Charlie’s soft snores added to the nighttime noises.
He drew in his wife’s scent and crinkled his nose. It was too crowded in the cabin and bathing wasn’t something one did outside when it was forty degrees. He could take the family back to San Antonio and pick up where he left off. The letter from Lorenzo de Zavala was still lying on the table, congratulating him on his son’s safe return and offering to reinstate him as commander of the army.
Three hundred dollars a month salary was a princely sum, but he was sick of being away from his family. Liza and David needed a father, and it weighed heavily on him that Charlie’s impulsive behavior the previous year may have been influenced by Will’s own sense of adventure. More than that, he had left Becky and her mother in a tight spot. True, the Commerce Bank’s issues were not of his making, but had he been there for her, Becky wouldn’t have had to pick the family up, just to survive.
Becky snorted and
rolled onto her back, and Will held his breath as he gazed at her sleeping form. Her breasts rose and sank with the deep rhythm of sleep. No, he was done with the army. He was thirty-four years old. Between his life before the transference and this one, he had spent nearly thirteen years wearing his country’s uniform.
Since waking up in William Barret Travis’ body, his focus had been singular. The Texian army was firmly established, and Sid Johnston was a capable officer. But with few exceptions, everything Will had tried to use his knowledge to advance had been military in nature. What could he accomplish if he worked to create inventions a bit ahead of their time?
The opportunity was there. Ten days since arriving home and Sam Williams had already traveled from Galveston and begged him to join in running the bank. Not to be outdone, Don Garza had offered him a job overseeing part of the commercial farming project. Even John Berry Sr. from Trinity Arms had offered him a job leading the armory’s research and development team.
Any one of them would help to replace the income from his military salary and getting out of the tiny cabin was important, he thought, as he heard his mother-in-law’s ripsaw of a snore. All of these enterprises were worth his effort, of that he was sure. But he had been mulling over something more. On a whim, a couple of years before, he had suggested of the late President Crockett hiring Richard Gatling as a patent clerk. In another world, Gatling would have invented the first machine gun. That was undoubtedly still a possibility, but he had already aided the army by developing a rocket flare. Will decided Gatling’s talents were wasted as a clerk.
As he opened his eyes and stared at the dark ceiling, Will’s thoughts turned to Ashbel Smith. The surgeon general of the army was back in San Antonio, running the army’s hospital at the Alamo and conducting experiments. Will had grown to like the taciturn doctor and hoped he would be open to creating a teaching facility to train more doctors. There were things Will realized he knew about medicine that, if he could find a way to open Dr. Smith’s eyes, could start a revolution to eradicate yellow fever and cholera, both of which posed threats to Texas.
Then there were Gail Borden and Andy Berry. The two of them had taken Dr. Smith’s research on gun cotton and used it to develop TNT or at least something that worked similar to it. Will hoped they would eventually produce smokeless powder. From what he had picked up since returning home, they were already working on it.
Could he pull these disparate men together and form a research campus? Individually, they were each making contributions to medicine, science, and mechanical engineering. If he could harness their energies what could they accomplish? Which new inventions would ease the life of the people he loved?
Calling it a research campus sounded too plane. While he wanted to encourage profitable enterprises there, he also wanted to see men and women educated. Texas College? No, too generic, he thought. What about Trinity College? Will liked the sound of it. Trinity College it would be.
Becky rolled over and opened her eyes. “Can’t sleep?”
“Just thinking.”
She leaned in and kissed him. “If you’re not going to sleep, at least hold me. I’ve missed feeling your arms around me.”
Soon thoughts of a research campus were pushed from his mind.
The next day was Sunday. As Will shepherded his family out of the clapboard Methodist church, he spied Gail Borden talking with several men outside of the similarly clad Baptist church. His thoughts from the previous night leapt back into his mind. He excused himself and left Becky to take the children the short distance to their home, with a promise he’d not be long.
As Becky shifted David from one hip to the other, she poked his arm. “Where have I heard that before? There’ll be a plate waiting for you.”
As Will approached, Borden waved and broke off his conversation with several men. “General Travis, I trust this first Lord’s day of eighteen forty-four finds you well.”
Will tugged at the scarf which hung around his neck, “Having my family back together was the best Christmas present I could have received, Mr. Borden.”
“Terrible situation, sir. But it’s testimony that the Lord answers prayers.”
Will’s thoughts ran toward the image of him waking up in the body of William Barret Travis and wondered whose prayers had been answered by that cosmic event. “I understand you and young Mr. Berry had good luck building off Dr. Smith’s discovery.”
“Ashbel’s discovery of nitrogenated cotton has opened many possible areas of research, General. I wish I had more time to dedicate to research all of them.”
Will smiled. “Funny you should mention that. I’ve been thinking,” and with that, Will launched into his proposal.
Later, when he arrived home, Becky was lying on the bed between Liza and David, who were both napping. She glanced at the table, where a single place setting was set. Softly she said, “Just about what I expected. Did you solve all the world’s problems?”
Will took the plate over to the fireplace where he ladled a spoonful of stew from a pot. He lifted it to his face and sniffed. Bits of chicken and sausage were mixed in with the stew’s vegetables. As he sat at the table, he said, “Probably not. Mexico still hates us, slavery still plagues us, and my mother-in-law sleeps on a pallet in the same room we share. But if I can get Sam and a few others to work with me on some finances, maybe we can make the world a better place.”
***
27 January 1844
Erasmo Seguin tugged his hat low over his ears. The open field outside of Harrisburg was crowded with tents and people despite the cold northern wind. He walked by a tent, where a tavern keeper from Houston was selling beer and whiskey. As he stepped around a pile of horse droppings, he thought the day’s event was turning into a carnival.
Part of him wished he had been able to bring Maria, but his wife of forty years was back in Austin, sick with a cold. She would have enjoyed the carnival-like spectacle on the fields east of Harrisburg. At least more than him, he thought as he stepped around a mud puddle. He wished he had been able to send his son, Juan, to do the business that brought him to the windswept prairie. But his son was busy touring the supply depots on the military road between San Antonio and Santa Fe.
Despite the reduction in the army’s size, Juan still commanded the small battalion of regular cavalry employed by the Republic. Their mission had grown; no longer only patrolling between the Gulf of Mexico and Ysleta, they now had to cover the entire border to the Pacific Ocean. Less than three hundred cavalry were inadequate to the task, but his son soldiered on, happy to focus his energy on the daunting challenge.
Seguin sighed as a group of boys raced across his path, chasing after a dog that was chasing after a cat. More than he wanted to admit, he wished he was back in Austin with Maria.
The San Jacinto River came into view. If it were possible, the tents along the riverbank were packed more tightly together than the tents further away. The milling mass of humanity was thicker. Even so, a few minutes later he stood on the shoreline and looked at what had brought thousands of people out on this cold, wintry day.
Stone pilings raised into the air on both banks of the river. Atop the pilings, wooden trestles stretched across the river. A glance at his pocket watch told him less than an hour remained before a locomotive would thunder across the bridge, connecting Houston and Harrisburg to West Liberty and Anahuac. More than seventy miles of railroad tracks now connected towns around Galveston Bay. Turning away from the river, Seguin couldn’t help but wonder how long before the railroad snaked westward, connecting the eastern part of the Republic with its western cities of Austin and San Antonio.
From a nearby tent, Seguin recognized a voice. It was nearly shouting. With a grimace, he made his way toward the tent. While the railroad across the San Jacinto River was a noteworthy reason to have a carnival, it wasn’t enough to make him leave his Maria and travel two hundred miles. The men arguing in the nearby tent, however, were enough.
As he approached the cl
osed tent flap, a man wearing the silver Ranger star from the Republic’s frontier battalion, nodded and flung the flap open. In accented English, he heard, “By reducing the flow of cotton-backs into circulation, we’re strengthening our economy. I’m not going to stand by while you push to devalue our currency.”
Seguin saw Sam Williams, the president of the Commerce Bank, wagging his finger under Michel Menard’s nose. “That’s easy for you to say, you’re not the one whose depositors are left holding the bag.”
Menard shot back, “You shouldn’t have used money that wasn’t yours, Sam. You’re the bank president, you knew better than to tie up your depositors’ money.”
Williams turned to Seguin as he entered, “Erasmo, would you tell your thickwitted counterpart in the Treasury that he was the one who came knocking on my damned door, begging for me to help keep the war bonds afloat?”
Menard offered a weak grin in Seguin’s direction, “Ignore Sam’s theatrics, Erasmo. He’s just upset that there are no loans to be had for bankers.”
Williams stalked over to the wall of the tent and lifted a flap, revealing the carnival-like atmosphere outside, “Theatrics be damned, Michel. Your refusal to give me a loan affects these people more than it will ever affect me. The ones who didn’t risk it all in Mexico worked hard to keep the economy floating along. They’re the ones who trusted their hard-earned dollars to my bank. And I’m the sucker who trusted you with their money so Texas could win the war.”
Seguin took a seat and said, “Michel, what’s the harm of a loan for a few thousand cotton-backs? I’ve seen his bank’s balance sheet. It’s not like he’s not good for it.”
Menard scowled. “We have twelve million dollars in debts. The interest on our outstanding debts in eight-hundred thousand this year alone. Even after we pruned the army back to an acceptable level, our military costs are still more than three and a half million dollars.”
