Home of the Brave

by Jeffry Hepple

  He nodded. “But she’s not my wife.”

  “I may never understand you, Father.”

  “Maybe not. But that hardly matters now.”

  September 30, 1834

  San Felipe de Austin, Texas

  Thomas and Yank were just leaving the saddle shop when a young ensign from the Texas militia approached them. “Colonel Van Buskirk?” The militiaman asked.

  “Yes, Ensign,” Thomas replied.

  “Captain Martin sends his respects, sir.”

  “Albert Martin, from Gonzales?” Thomas asked.

  “Yes, sir. He asks that you come and bring any men you have with you.”

  “What’s the trouble?” Yank asked.

  “Last week a Mexican corporal and five soldiers from the Alamo showed up in Gonzales demanding that we give them our cannon. This was not agreed. And then, day before yesterday, a hundred dragoons under command of Colonel Francisco de Castañeda arrived. Captain Martin buried the cannon and sent some of us off to gather reinforcements. He’s stalling by telling Castañeda that Andrew Ponton, the alcalde, is out of town. But that won’t work for very long.”

  Thomas nodded then turned to his father. “The Alamo, under command of Colonel Domingo de Ugartechea, is the biggest fort around here.”

  “I know.” Yank nodded. “Why does the town of Gonzales even have the cannon in the first place?” he asked the ensign.

  “The cannon is really the property of the DeWitt Colony, sir,” the ensign said. “That area on the San Marcos and Guadalupe made the settlement a target for the Karankawa, Tonkawa, and Comanches. They destroyed it in the summer of ‘26. The next year Empresario DeWitt made peace with the Karankawa and Tonkawa, but he couldn’t with the Comanche. He asked the Alamo for troops but they couldn’t spare any and they sent us a little 6-pounder instead.”

  “Do you know why the Mexicans suddenly want it back?” Yank asked.

  “Yes, sir,” the ensign replied. “On the 10th of this month a Mexican soldier attacked a local man over a card game. Everybody else in the game said that the Mexican soldier was just angry because he lost and had no good reason to do it. Some people went to the Alamo to complain to Ugartechea and that’s when Ugartechea sent the detachment back to take the cannon.” He looked at Thomas. “Will you come, sir?”

  Thomas shook his head. “A 6-pounder’s not worth starting a war over.”

  “I disagree,” Yank said. “The tipping point of the American Revolutionary War was when the British tried to confiscate weapons and powder from the colonials. The Battle of Bunker Hill was the result. My grandfather resigned from the British army a few days later.”

  “So you think I should take my men to Gonzales and get into a fight over some little cannon that’s only good for scaring away crows from the corn?” Thomas asked in amazement.

  “No, of course not, Son,” Yank said. “You can do what you want. But I’m going with this man to help the people of Gonzales keep their cannon.”

  October 1, 1835

  Gonzales, Texas

  “Captain Martin,” Yank said as he rode into the camp. “I’m John Van Buskirk. I met your ensign in San Felipe and he said that you might need some help.” He dismounted and stretched his aching back.

  “Yes, sir, we might need a lot of help. Is your son coming?”

  “No. He only had a few men with him.”

  Martin looked as if he wanted to say something but changed his mind. “Castañeda with about a hundred to hundred and fifty dragoons are camped on that high ground.” He pointed to a hill about three hundred yards on the other side of the river. “They’ve been scouting along here looking for a place where they can charge across.”

  “Is there such a place?”

  “No, sir. This is the widest ford. To cross here they’ll have to stay in a column of one or two.”

  “If your men are any good you can stop them here.”

  “My men are good enough to shoot a deer or a wild cow for their supper but they’re not trained to reload under fire like your son’s militia.”

  “Where else might the Mexicans cross?”

  “This is the most likely spot but they know we’re here so they’ll find another. There’s a dozen to pick from if all they want to do is cross.”

  “Do they know your strength?”

  “Yes, sir. A Coushatta brave that was over here went and told them yesterday. That’s when they moved to the high ground.” He waited a moment for another officer to join them. “General John Van Buskirk, let me introduce you to Captain Matthew Caldwell, known in these parts as ‘Old Paint’.”

  “Proud to make your acquaintance, General.” Caldwell offered his hand. “Is Tom coming?”

  “No.” Yank shook hands with the man. “Tom had pressing business elsewhere. Which of you is in command?”

  “Neither of us,” Caldwell answered. “The militia from Fayette and Columbus didn’t want to report to us and they elected their own officers.

  “John Henry Moore of Fayette is in overall command,” Martin said.

  Yank pointed to their rear. “You have company. Four Mexican infantrymen and a civilian.”

  “Looks like a delegation of some kind,” Martin observed.

  Caldwell squinted. “That’s Doc Smither.”

  They waited until the civilian stopped and spoke to the soldiers, then came on by himself and shook hands with Caldwell. “I need a moment of your time.”

  “You know Al Martin, don’t you Doc?”

  The doctor nodded and shook Martin’s hand.

  “And this is General Van Buskirk,” Caldwell continued. “General, please meet one of Gonzales’s leading citizens, Doctor Lancelot Smither.”

  “Doctor.” Yank shook his hand.

  “Pleasure,” Smither said distractedly. He quickly turned back to Caldwell. “I was in Bexar on business when I heard that Ugartechea had sent men to retrieve our cannon so I went to the Alamo to talk to him. He asked me to convince you to cooperate with Castañeda and he sent those soldiers to escort me.”

  “Thanks Doc,” Martin said. “But we’re not giving up the cannon.”

  “That cannon isn’t worth a single drop of blood,” Smither argued. “You don’t even have cannonballs for it.”

  “It’s a matter of honor,” Caldwell said.

  “That’s ridiculous.”

  “I’ll tell you what, Doc,” Caldwell replied. “Since you’ve got an escort and all, why don’t you slip across the river and invite Castañeda to town in the morning to discuss it?”

  “You’re serious?” Smither said looking at the two militiamen.

  “I doubt that we’ll be able to change his mind,” Martin said, “but it’s worth a try.”

  “Then let me see what I can do.” With a nod at Yank, Smither hurried back to his escort and the five men were soon wading across the river.

  Yank watched them until they were across. “Where are these other troops from Fayette and Columbus, Captain Martin?”

  “They’re camped downstream about three hundred yards.”

  “I think I’ll ride down there and introduce myself,” Yank said. “Just in case my son changes his mind and joins us, I’d like him to know where I am.”

  ~

  After introducing himself to John Henry Moore, the commander of the combined militias from Fayette and Columbus, Yank rode his horse to a little grove by a meadow, where he unsaddled and curried the animal, then let it graze on a tether. He had ridden all night, so after a meal of dried beef and cold tea, using his saddle as a pillow he lay down to rest.

  At about sunset, Yank was awakened by the sound of militiamen struggling to put the ferry back in the water. He walked down to watch a ferry load of mounted and dismounted soldiers make the crossing. “Excuse me,” he said to a mounted officer. “Did you know that Captain Martin negotiated a cease fire until tomorrow?”

  “That’s got nothin’ to do with us,” the man replied, dismissively.

  Yank shrugged and went back
to his camp. Two hours later, he rode his horse onto the barge and crossed with the last load of soldiers.

  There were no officers with this group of men and one or another was constantly asking Yank questions, which he deferred to the only sergeant. At midnight, a dense fog descended and the men in front lost contact with the column. For a time they wandered aimlessly, then finally the sergeant called a halt and set pickets.

  At about 3:00 AM a dog barked and the Mexican perimeter opened fire. Using the muzzle flashes as a guide, the sergeant moved his men forward to a line of trees to wait for orders from someone in authority.

  At dawn, some Texians emerged from the trees on foot and fired a volley at the Mexicans. Castañeda sent a lieutenant and about forty mounted men to attack and the Texians immediately withdrew into the trees where the mounted men could not follow.

  As the sun began to burn off the fog, Doctor Smither was pushed onto the field by Mexican soldiers. When he made his way to the Texian lines, he was arrested and was being roughly treated when Yank rode up and intervened, explaining quickly to Captain Moore that Smither had been on a peace mission.

  Doctor Smither then told Moore that Castañeda wanted to talk. Moore agreed and crossed the field to meet Castañeda in the center. The conversation was very short.

  As Captain Moore was coming back to his lines, the Texians raised a homemade banner with a crude image of the cannon and the words “Come & Take It” painted in bootblack. As Moore reached the trees, a muzzle full of rocks, nails and scrap iron was fired from the cannon toward the Mexican camp. Castañeda led his troops back toward Bexar before the Texians could reload and fire the cannon a second time.

  Yank rode away from the Texians and followed the river until he came to the ford and crossed to where Captains Martin and Caldwell were still bivouacked.

  “What was all that shootin’ up there?” Caldwell asked as Yank dismounted.

  “I guess you forgot to tell Moore that you’d called a cease-fire until this morning,” Yank said. “He attacked the Mexican position last night and Doctor Smither almost got killed as a spy by both sides.”

  Caldwell looked at Martin. “I thought you told Moore.”

  “I thought you did,” Martin replied.

  “Castañeda pulled out for San Antonio de Béxar,” Yank interrupted. “He may be crossing here. I don’t know if Moore is planning to follow him or not, but I thought I’d better warn you.”

  “Are you staying, General?”

  Yank shook his head. “I’m going back to my son’s ranch where I should have gone in the first place.”

  November 1, 1835

  San Felipe de Austin, Texas

  Yank was dozing with his feet propped up on one of the many vacant chairs and his hat tipped down over his eyes.

  “Hey old man. No sleeping in the meeting hall.”

  Yank pushed his hat back with one hand and reached for his pistol with the other.

  “Don’t shoot. It’s me. Sam Houston.”

  Yank made a face and dropped his feet to the floor, then offered his hand. “Forgive me if I don’t stand up. Old bones and hard chairs don’t complement each other.”

  Houston shook Yank’s hand and sat down. “What’s going on here? This meeting was supposed to be held in October, then it got moved from Gonzales to here and postponed. Now they say it’s postponed indefinitely.”

  “It was moved from Gonzales and postponed until today because of a little tussle down there between some Mexican dragoons and a couple of companies of Texas militia. It’s been postponed today because we don’t have a quorum.”

  “Why? Are they too scared to come?”

  “No. Austin raised a volunteer Texian Army to lay siege on the Mexican garrison at San Antonio de Béxar. They’re all there. My son Thomas and some of his friends rode out to find as many delegates as they can. He thinks there are enough that didn’t go with Austin.”

  “Wish I’d known Austin was going to attack the Alamo,” Houston said miserably.

  “You’re a whole lot better off not being with Austin, Sam,” Yank said. “The Texas militia system is a nightmare. At Gonzales, when the reinforcements arrived, they decided that they didn’t want to report to the local commander and they just elected their own officers. The next day the Gonzales Militia negotiated a cease fire and the reinforcements attacked.”

  Houston chuckled.

  “One of the things we’re going to get done in this Consultation is authorize a regular army,” Yank said.

  “Austin won’t allow that.”

  “Austin’s not here. He’s at the Alamo.”

  “Will the regular army take over the militia?”

  Yank shook his head. “We’d never get that through, and if we did it would fracture the delegates. The regular army will have to be separate. At least for a time.”

  Houston nodded. “Count me in.”

  “I already have. If we get our way, you’ll be in command.”

  “Of the whole army?”

  “Of a whole army that doesn’t exist.”

  “It should be you in command.”

  “I’m too old and I don’t have your charisma. You’re a famous hero and troublemaker. The volunteers will flock to you.”

  “Oh.” Houston took a fat envelope from his back pocket. “This is just the principal. I still owe you the interest.” He handed Yank the envelope.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes. I’ve done very well over in Nacogdoches, thanks to Will Wharton and his brother. And I quit drinking. Almost.”

  Yank got to his feet. “Well then, I think I’ll put this in the bank. Do you want to walk with me and make sure I don’t get robbed?”

  “The day you need my protection is a day I don’t ever want to see.”

  November 23, 1835

  Two Alone, Texas

  “Grampa!” Quincy raced down the driveway with two dogs at his heels.

  Yank leaned down and caught the boy, then swung him up in front of the saddle. “Oh,” he complained. “You’re getting too heavy to do that.”

  Quincy squirmed trying to turn to look over his shoulder at Yank. “I missed you, Grampa.”

  “Did you, now?” Yank kissed him on top of the head. “Well I missed you too.”

  “Nina’s angry with me?”

  “Why?”

  “I shot a bird.”

  “What kind of bird?”

  “A brown one. I cried. I was bad.”

  “Sometimes you have to kill things for food or for defense but killing things for no good reason is bad. I’m glad you learned that lesson.”

  The front door opened and Jane ran out followed by Anna. As they ran down the drive, Marina came out and limped down the steps.

  Yank handed Quincy to Anna then dismounted, gave her a kiss, then accepted a big hug from Jane. “What are you doing out of bed?”

  “I’m good as new,” she said. “Well, maybe a little plumper than I was.”

  “What’s my new grandson’s name?”

  “Johnny. Not John, just Johnny.”

  “Where’s Paul?”

  “Out with his other grandfather somewhere. Those two are inseparable.”

  Yank kissed her again. “What’s the matter with Marina?”

  Jane looked back. “She insisted that she could ride one of the stallions that Miguel brought in. It bucked her off and kicked her in the hip.”

  “Did she shoot him?”

  “No,” Jane said. “She caught him and ran him until he was so worn out that he was ready to collapse.”

  Yank walked forward to meet Marina. “What part of you can I hug?”

  “Just don’t pat me on the butt.” She put her arms around his neck and kissed him soundly. “We’ve been hearing scary stories about the provisional government.”

  “It’s called the Consultation. Let me wash some horse-sweat off me and I’ll tell you all about it.”

  ~

  “As I was saying, the provisional government of the inde
pendent state of Texas is called the Consultation,” Yank said to enthralled faces surrounding him in the crowded living room. “We were finally able to gather enough delegates to obtain a quorum on the third of October. It became clear very soon that there was a faction that wanted war and another that wanted peace. Austin was at the Alamo but he sent a letter with Jim Bowie asking us to follow the Constitution of 1824 and to make it clear to Mexico that we just wanted our rights as Mexican citizens, not independence.”

  “Boo,” Josiah Whipple said, then he sniggered.

  “As you might expect there was a long and heated debate,” Yank continued. “But the deadlock was finally broken when Sam Houston said that if we voted for complete independence we’d get no support from the rest of the citizens of Mexico. That made enough sense for a compromise to be put forward that we hope will garner support from the federalists here in Mexico and the United States. The resolution passed thirty-three to fourteen.”

  “So who’s the governor of Texas?” Jane asked.

  “Stephen Austin, of course,” Anna replied.

  “No.” Yank shook his head. “He was nominated but he lost to Henry Smith. James Robinson was elected lieutenant governor.”

  “What about you, Father?” Anna asked. “Were you elected to anything?”

  “They elected me as a second delegate from here. All delegates are members of the General Council. That’s as deeply as I want to be involved in politics.”

  “We heard there’s to be a regular army,” Whipple said. “Who’s in command?”

  “Major General Sam Houston,” Yank said proudly.

  “It should have been you or Thomas,” Anna said heatedly.

  Yank shook his head. “Thomas has this ranch, a family and other responsibilities. I’m too old and not political enough. Sam’s been a politician, a businessman and a soldier, not to mention a Cherokee. He’s the right man for the job.”

  “You’re not too old,” Marina grumped. “You’re just too lazy.”

  Yank looked offended. “Well, if you’re going to press the issue my dear, the real reason that I’m not there with Houston or Austin is that this isn’t my country. If Texas ever becomes a state in the United States perhaps I’ll become less lazy.”