In a matter of minutes the firing died down. The handful of lancers who were left threw down their weapons and raised their hands.
"By God, it worked!" said Travis. "Christopher, it worked perfectly!"
"Take charge of the prisoners," said Christopher. "Make certain no harm comes to them. And care for the wounded. Our and theirs." He glanced at Nathaniel. "Ready, Grandpa?"
"Ready as I'll ever be, lad."
Christopher dismounted, climbed into the wagon seat, and gathered up the leathers. Glancing over his shoulder at the six powder kegs in the wagon bed, he gave the reins a hard flick to motivate the mules in the hitch. Nathaniel knelt behind the seat as the wagon trundled down the road. Up ahead, a dozen Anahuacans were engaged in a shooting match with about the same number of soldiers on the parapets. The gate had been closed. Christopher had expected that. He urged the mules into a reluctant gallop. As he barreled past the Texans he yelled, "Keep their heads down, boys!" The men gave a cheer and advanced in the wake of the wagon, firing as they came. A bullet splintered the weathered wood of the seat beside Christopher. Nathaniel's rifle spoke, and a soldier cartwheeled off the top of the wall.
Reaching the gate, Christopher turned the wagon sharply as he checked the mules. Now the Mexicans above had to lean out to fire directly down at them. A few tried, but the Anahuacans made them pay dearly for the attempt. As Christopher detached the hitch from the wagon and sent the mules on their way, Nathaniel broke open all six of the casks with the stock of his rifle. Working fast, they stacked the casks as the foot of the gate. Three men, one of them Tucker, ran up to help them tip the wagon over onto its side. Christopher hoped this would contain the blast.
A powder trail was made using one of the open casks. Christopher told the others to run for it. Drawing a pistol from his belt, he fired point-blank into the powder trail. The powder flared. He turned and ran. Ahead of him he saw one of the Texans go down, hit in the leg. Tucker and Nathaniel helped the wounded man up. They all took a few more strides and then the casks exploded and the blast hurled them to the ground.
When the rain of wood splinters ceased falling, Christopher got up and checked the damage, his vision blurred, his eyes burning in the smoke. There wasn't much left of the gate. Drawing the cutlass, he motioned for the Texans to follow him. He led the charge, clambering over the debris of wagon and gate, bursting into the yard of the presidio. A soldier materialized out of the smoke and almost ran him through with a bayonet. Christopher struck the man's rifle aside with a downward stroke of the cutlass. One of the Anahuacans shot the soldier down. Christopher felt the man's hot blood spray his face. There were a few more shots fired, but the fight had gone out of the garrison. The Mexicans who were still standing surrendered.
It was over. Christopher felt suddenly listless and tired and a little nauseated. He just stood there, not seeing or hearing anything, looking at the body of the dead soldier at his feet. Nathaniel shook him out of it. They went to find Klesko and the Stroms.
Travis met them at the gate, looking solemn.
"You had better come with me, Christopher."
They walked up the road a hundred yards. Christopher saw the gray Travis had been riding, cropping at a clump of grass a few feet off the road. Lucas was standing near the horse. Then Christopher saw the body Lucas was standing over.
"We only lost three men," said Travis. "But I regret to inform you that one of them was your friend."
Christopher stared at O'Connor. The Irishman lay sprawled on his back, sightless eyes as blue as the Texas sky. A gaping bloody wound caused by a lance.
"He joined us up on the ridge," drawled Lucas. "Guess he didn't want to miss the shivaree. Fought like a devil."
"I wonder what made him change his mind," mumbled Christopher.
"We have won a great victory today," said Travis. "The men who fell on this field will be forever honored."
The words rang hollow to Christopher.
"I'll dance a jig . . . " he whispered, but couldn't finish.
Two days later, Christopher found Travis in his law office, packing books and papers into a small parfleche valise.
"I heard you were leaving," said Christopher.
"As should you, my friend. As should you. I wouldn't be surprised if we both had a price on our heads after what happened."
Christopher shrugged. "Who knows what the future holds in store. But that's not why you're leaving."
"No." Travis smiled like a boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar. He took a half-empty bottle of sour mash from a desk drawer and held it up. "Care to join me?"
"Don't mind if I do."
Travis poured two glasses and offered a toast. "To Texas. May she one day be a republic of free men."
Christopher drank to that. "You know, Will, the people here don't hold it against you."
"Perhaps not. If they have forgiven me, fine. But I cannot forgive myself. Someday, somehow, I will make it up to them."
"Know where you're going?"
Travis shook his head. "But we will meet again, Christopher. I feel it in my bones. Like you said, the Mexicans may not come tomorrow or next week or even next year. But they will come. And I will be there to meet them. As will you. I must admit, I have learned some important things from you. One has to do with running away. This is the last time you will see me turn tail and run, I promise you that." He grinned as though he was joking, but Christopher knew he wasn't.
Filling up the glasses, Travis knocked back another shot and gasped at the liquid fire exploding in his belly.
"So," he said, "your mother is on her way to Arcadia?"
"Yes. With my grandfather and Klesko. I'm waiting here."
"Waiting for what?"
"A ship to come in."
Travis corked the bottle and dropped it into the valise. He threw a quick, pensive look around the room. "You know, I never thought I liked this place—until today. Now I'm rather sorry to leave it." He sighed. "Funny, but I never have really felt as though I belonged, no matter where I went. And I just don't think being a lawyer is my true calling. But I know that somewhere out there is the answer. Do you belive in destiny, Christopher?"
"In the past few months I've come to."
"I wish I knew mine. It is the great mystery, your raison d'être—your reason for being. Yet the day will dawn when you will know that it is the right time and the right place, and you will leave your mark." Travis put out his hand. "Best of luck to you."
Christopher shook the proffered hand. "And to you. I hope you find what you're looking for."
The town of Anahuac seemed to be holding its breath, expecting a storm of Mexican retribution, but not knowing when it would come. The wounded Mexican soldiers had been well cared for, and the prisoners released. Christopher made it clear to the only surviving officer, a Lieutenant Herrera, that they had not fought in order to start a war, but rather to save the lives of three innocent men. Herrera was a reasonable man. He assured Christopher that he understood, and would pass the word along. But they both agreed it probably would make no difference in the long run.
The Anahuacans kept their guns loaded and their eyes peeled and their fingers crossed. Armed patrols roamed in the vicinity of the presidio, but Herrera and the remnant of the garrison were not inclined to start any trouble. A sentry was on duty around the clock on the docks, for there were some who said the attack would come from the sea.
Christopher kept his own vigil on the docks. He had very little else to do. Nathaniel, Klesko, and his mother were gone. So was Noelle. She had simply vanished on the day of the battle. Christopher had wanted to talk to her, to find out why O'Connor had joined the fight after all, and to tell her that he was truly sorry about what had happened, because he didn't love her, but loved another with all his heart and soul.
Yet no one could tell him what had happened to her. As far as he could tell she had not taken passage on a ship. She had not departed Anahuac on a horse or in a wagon. Perhaps she had gone up the river
. Perhaps she had just walked into the woods. Not knowing preyed on Christopher's mind. His conscience bothered him. He tried to persuade himself that he wasn't responsible. Noelle's vanishing act left a part of his life unresolved, and he couldn't help feeling as though it never would be, because he doubted he would ever see her again, or even know what had become of her. In this way she would always be with him, and he wondered if she had planned it that way.
Two weeks after the battle Nathaniel returned to Anahuac. He went to Sam Fulshear's place, where he knew Christopher was staying, and he brought the old man some venison steaks. Fulshear directed the frontiersman to the docks.
"He's out there from dawn until well after dark," said the old-timer. "Day in and day out, rain or shine. What's he waitin' for?"
"His future," said Nathaniel.
He found Christopher sitting on the end of a pier with his legs dangling, reading Napoleon's Maxims.
"Getting ready for the next one?" asked the old leatherstocking.
Christopher was happy to see him, and asked after his mother.
"I think Becky's going to like it up there," said Nathaniel. "The folks thereabouts have all pitched in to help build her a cabin. I reckon it'll be finished by the time we get back."
"And Klesko?"
"Happy as a lark. I thought I'd come down and see how you were doing. Any word?"
Christopher took a folded sheet of good heavy vellum from the book and handed it to the frontiersman.
"Came on a coastal schooner day before yesterday," he said, beaming.
Nathaniel unfolded the letter and read:
Dearest Christopher,
I have gone to Texas.
Love, Greta
Grinning, Nathaniel gave the letter back to Christopher, who held it as though it were the most precious thing in the world.
"Short and sweet," said Nathaniel.
Christopher nodded. In his emotional state, he did not trust himself to speak.
Tucker came along the pier to join them. "There's a ship out yonder."
They turned to look, squinting against the glare of the afternoon sun on the gray mirror of the sea.
"There she is," said Nathaniel. "I can just make her out on the horizon."
"Wonder if she's carryin' soldiers," said Tucker, gripping his shotgun tightly.
"I wonder," said Christopher, and he was smiling.
Look for these reissued ebook titles by Jason Manning:
HIGH COUNTRY SERIES
High Country
Green River Rendezvous
Battle of the Teton Basin
FLINTLOCK SERIES
Flintlock
The Border Captains
Gone To Texas
TEXAS SERIES
The Black Jacks
Texas Bound
The Marauders
MOUNTAIN MAN SERIES
Mountain Passage
Mountain Massacre
Mountain Courage
Mountain Vengeance
Mountain Honor
Mountain Renegade
FALCONER SERIES
Falconer's Law
Promised Land
American Blood
ETHAN PAYNE SERIES
Frontier Road
Trail Town
Last Chance
Gun Justice
Gunmaster
The Outlaw Trail
Gone to Texas Page 30
