“Mother’s just feeling old because a horse bucked her off,” Anna said.
“I wouldn’t be feeling old if your father wasn’t always reminding me,” Marina grumbled. “Go on John. Finish your story so we can all get back to work.”
January 30, 1836
Goliad, Texas
Yank Van Buskirk was wrapped in a horse blanket and huddled in a corner between two stone parapets of the Presidio La Bahia.
“How come every time I see you, you’re sleeping?” Sam Houston asked loudly.
Yank pushed his hat back to look up at Houston. “Hello, Sam. About time you got here.”
Houston crouched to look into Yank’s face. “You look like shit, Yank.”
“Some of your Cherokee friends shot an arrow into me that’s been giving me some trouble. Please accept my apologies. I had to kill three of ‘em. Hope they weren’t relatives of yours.”
“Where was this?”
“Up north. I don’t know whose band they were from.”
“Have you seen a doctor?”
“Hell no. A doctor will want to cut off my leg.”
“Let me see it.”
Yank pulled up his pant leg above his boot top and carefully unwrapped the bloody bandage that was covering the wound in his calf.
“Jesus Christ, Yank. There’re worms in it.”
“They’re not worms, they’re maggots. I put fifty of them in there to eat the corrupt flesh.”
“You’re mad.”
“I’m alive. Without the maggots I wouldn’t be.”
“You don’t look all that good.”
“I’ll be okay in a few more days. Old Sally back home said that it took six days. It’s been eight but I let the corruption get too far.”
“Do maggots live eight days before they turn into flies?”
Yank shook his head. “You have to change the bandage and then replace the maggots every two days. I’ve hung a deer carcass out behind the church that’s supplying fresh maggots.”
Houston sat down beside him. “I’ll take you home.”
Yank gave him a disapproving look.
“Don’t look at me like that. I’ve decided to furlough myself until the Constitutional Convention so I’ve got nothin’ better to do until the first of March.”
“Furlough yourself? What kind of foolishness is that?”
“It’s not foolishness, Yank. The situation with the politics and the intrigue makes it impossible to run the army. Unless our so-called government lets me alone I’m just wasting my time.”
“Don’t make me keep asking questions and just tell me what the hell you’re talking about, Sam.”
Houston shrugged. “Well, I guess you know that after Santa Anna’s brother-in-law, General Cos, surrendered the Alamo, Austin sent James Grant and Frank Johnson to attack Matamoros without even discussing it with me?”
“Yes. That was a foolish thing for him to do but hardly worth turning your back on your command over.”
“Now wait a minute. I’m just getting started.”
Yank nodded. “Sorry. Go on.”
“Before Grant and Johnson left, they stripped the Alamo of nearly everything useful. Colonel Neill doesn’t have enough men or materiel to hold it if he’s attacked and he’s begging me for help.”
“So who are you sending?”
“I sent Jim Bonham and some of the Mobile Grays over from San Filipe when I was there. I sent Jim Bowie yesterday. And I’m here to send Fannin today. That’s a direct violation of my orders to stay neutral, by the way.”
“Neutral?”
“Yes.” Houston nodded. “My orders are to remain neutral in matters between Texas and Mexico. I was told to negotiate a treaty with the Cherokee instead.”
“How many men do they have?”
“Who?”
“Bonham and Bowie.”
“Thirty.”
“Thirty? That’s all?”
“Yes.”
“So all they’ll really have are the men that Fannin takes from here.”
“That’s about the size of it.”
Yank sighed. “Where’s Travis?”
“San Filipe. Until I can get control of the army away from Austin and the politicians, the Alamo’s at risk. I don’t want to be held responsible if it falls, so I’m furloughing myself until the convention.”
“What about the treaty with the Cherokees?”
“That’s done. They were happy to have somebody to help them fight the Comanches. I might as well take you home in a wagon so you don’t have to walk on that worm-infested leg.”
“Done? If it was done I wouldn’t have this worm-infested leg.”
“It’ll take a while for the word to spread to all the bands. Stop avoiding my question. Do you want me to take you home or not?”
“Not home, but if you could take me someplace that’s warm and has a bed I’d be grateful. When I’m stronger, we’ll decide what we’re going to do about Austin.”
February 22, 1836
San Antonio de Béxar, Texas
Sam Houston walked into the bar at the Southern Hotel and raised his hand to Yank who was sitting alone at a table in the back.
With both hands, Yank took his foot down from the opposite chair then stood up to shake hands with Houston. “How does the Alamo look?”
“Pitiful. None of the supplies that Neill’s been begging for have come.”
“Did Bowie and Bonham ever get here?”
“Yes. A couple of weeks ago. Their messenger went home, got lost or got killed. Travis is here too. And former Congressman David Crockett, who claims that he’s a friend of yours.”
“Did you know Davy when he was with Jackson?”
“No. I just met him. He’s a very colorful character.”
“He’s nowhere near as colorful as you.”
“He’s a close second then. He wears a coonskin cap, with the tail intact.”
“A good twenty percent of your army wears coonskin caps.”
“True, but not a one of them was ever a United States Congressman.”
Yank laughed. “We quarreled the last time we met. Maybe I’ll go down there tomorrow and see him to try to patch it up. He’s a good man.”
“I wanted to talk to you about tomorrow.”
“So talk.”
“Do you think you can ride?”
“Yes. I’m right as payday.”
“Good. I’d like to head back to Goliad in the morning as soon as you’re ready and see why Fannin isn’t at the Alamo.”
“Okay. But why do you need me?”
“Fannin’s a bit hard to handle. He may respond better to you.”
“Why wait until the morning? Let’s go now.”
“There’s a baile tonight at Domingo Bustillo’s house to celebrate Washington’s Birthday. I really have to put in an appearance and we both could use some fun.”
“A party? Uh-uh.” Yank shook his head. “Count me out.”
“Oh don’t be like that, Yank. Crockett will be there. Domingo just lives a short ways north of here on Soledad Street. Come on. Please.”
“Okay,” Yank said after a moment. “We can get packed and ready, and then leave right after the dance.”
“I can tell you’ve not had much of a social life in Texas. The baile will last until dawn.”
“My gimpy leg will give you an excuse to leave early. If you really are in a hurry to go, that is.”
“I’m not in much of a hurry but Santa Anna is. Deaf Smith says he crossed the Rio Grande on the 16th. He’ll be here within a week.”
“Where’s Smith now?”
“I sent him back to Gonzales.”
“Who’s watching Santa Anna?”
“The outposts.”
“You ought to reconsider that. Santa Anna’s famous for using flying columns. We should have eyes on him every minute.”
“I’ll think about it tomorrow. Right now I’m gonna take a real long bath, get a shave and have my clothes brushed so I
look my best for all the señoritas tonight.”
Yank stood up. “I’ll meet you in front of the stables at sundown and then you can decide when we’re going to leave for Goliad.”
February 23, 1836
Calaveras Creek, Texas
Yank turned in his saddle and looked back toward the northwest. “Did you hear that?”
Houston was dozing in his saddle. “Huh?”
“Does that sound like artillery?”
Houston sat up and looked around at the cloudy sky. “Thunder? Maybe there’s a storm comin’ and we’re fixin’ to get wet.”
“No. I think that’s the sound of guns, Sam.”
“I’m starting to worry about you, Yank. Last night you saw Santa Anna disguised as a mule driver at Domingo’s party and this morning you’re hearing his guns.”
“That mule driver must have been his twin brother if it wasn’t really Santa Anna.”
“What would the dictator of Mexico be doing at George Washington’s birthday party?”
“Counting enemy officers and learning what he could from drunks.”
“He could get the information from his spies, or any of those pretty señoritas, without risking being recognized.”
“Why would he fear being recognized? I recognized him but nobody believed me.”
“Well you created enough stir to scare the muleskinner away, so you should be happy.”
“If I’d caught him I’d be a lot happier.”
Houston chuckled.
“What’s so damned funny?”
“You trying to run through all those big hoop dresses on your gimpy leg.” He laughed.
“I should shoot you in the damn leg.”
“I’ve been shot in the leg and I didn’t go whining about it for a month.”
“Keep talking and I’ll shoot you where it won’t heal.”
Houston chuckled again. “Guess those maggots aren’t the answer.”
“The problem with my leg isn’t the maggots,” Yank grumbled, “it’s the sail thread.”
“The what?”
The only thread I could find to sew up the muscle was sail thread. It doesn’t give like it should when I put my heel down. I’m going to pull the damn stitches out when we get to Goliad and just hope the muscle doesn’t pull apart again.”
“We can take a wagon or a buckboard from Goliad to Washington-on-the-Brazos so you don’t put any strain on it.”
Yank turned in his saddle again. “That sure sounds like cannon-fire to me, Sam.”
“We have outposts all along the Medina River, Yank. If Santa Anna was close enough to bring cannons to bear on the Alamo we’d have known about it days ago.”
“I hope you’re right.”
Houston yawned. “Oh, my. Do I need a siesta. How about we stop over by those trees?”
“I thought you were in a hurry to see Fannin.”
“That was before I spent half the night drinking mescal and dancing with pretty Mexican girls.” Houston looked longingly at the little grove next to a placid lake. “Just an hour, Yank,” he pleaded.
Yank squinted at the trees. “How sure are you of the treaty you negotiated with the Cherokee?”
“Sure? I’m sure. Why?”
“There’re five or six Cherokee warriors in the brush behind those trees.”
“I’m not that sure.” He pulled his rifle and laid it across his saddle. “Did you know that Fannin went to West Point?”
“Why? Did he tell you we knew each other?”
“You didn’t answer me.”
“Nobody I knew at West Point was named James Fannin.”
Houston cackled at him. “He told me he used the name James Fannin Walker back then and that he dropped out because of poor grades and too many demerits.”
“Why did you ask me if you already knew?”
“I just wanted to see if I could get you to tell me the gossip or a lie.”
Yank drew his pistol and fired a shot toward the trees.
“Jesus, Mary and Joseph,” Houston said, checking his startled horse. “What the hell was that for?”
“I’m tired of watching those Cherokees and I figured the shot would make them do something.”
Houston craned his neck. “I think they’re just takin’ it easy.”
“I think they’re just waiting for somebody that’s easy to come along here.”
“I guess we could go talk to ‘em if it would make you feel better.”
“Shooting them might make me feel better. Talking would make me feel worse.”
“How come you hate Indians so much, Yank?”
“I don’t hate Indians in general, Sam, just Indians that murder and kill my countrymen and shoot me in the leg.”
“Might be best if we don’t discuss that.”
“You brought it up.”
“Not me.”
Yank turned in his saddle and shaded his eyes. “Rider coming.”
Houston looked back. “He’s killin’ that pony.”
“I see that. What will you bet that it isn’t thunder we’re hearing?”
“No bet. I think that’s Deaf Smith.”
March 1, 1836
Goliad, Texas
“If you’re here to ask me why I’m not at the Alamo, ask gently,” James Fannin said angrily as Yank dismounted. “We marched on February 26th but we couldn’t find boats to get our artillery across the San Antonio River and I had to come back. Boats are Houston’s job, not mine.”
“I’m in no mood for your temper tantrums, Jim,” Yank replied. “General Jose Urrea, with maybe a thousand troops, attacked San Patricio a few days ago. He must have marched up the coast while Santa Anna came straight up across the Rio Grande.”
“Frank Johnson’s at San Patricio with fifty men,” Fannin said.
“Not any more. Johnson and four of his men escaped. They’re all wounded. The rest are dead or captured.”
“Lord. That means there’s nothing between us and Urrea except James Grant.”
“Grant’s dead too. This morning I came upon a wounded man who said he was with Grant and that everybody else was dead. I gave him my water and a blanket. I’d bet he’s dead by now.”
Fannin rubbed his beard. “Were you just with Houston?”
“Yes.”
“Where is he?”
“He should be at Gonzales about now.”
“What did he say? Am I to march to reinforce the Alamo or stay here to meet Urrea?”
“Neither. You’re to move back to Victoria.”
“What?”
“How many able-bodied men in your command, Jim?”
“Three fifty, more or less.”
“Urrea has three men to your one and there’s nobody left to help you.”
“We can stand here, Yank.”
“You’re ordered to Victoria.”
“By you or by Houston?”
Yank didn’t answer.
“Houston doesn’t even know about Urrea, does he?”
“He probably does by now, but he didn’t when I left him.”
“You can’t give me orders, Yank. You have no authority here in Texas.”
“You’re right. But I do have a lifetime of experience, Jim.”
“I’ll consider your advice.”
“Very well.” Yank grimaced as he remounted.
“Where the hell are you going?”
“To find Houston and get him to issue you a retreat order, Jim.”
“Listen, Yank, I appreciate your concern, but I know what I’m doing.”
“My only concern, Jim, is that you don’t know what you’re doing and you’re about to waste the lives of three hundred and fifty men that Texas desperately needs. I’ll be back as soon as I can, and I hope I find you gone.”
March 6, 1836
Washington-on-the-Brazos, Texas
The Texas Constitutional Convention convened on March 1st and was attended by forty-one delegates. Richard Ellis, the Delegate from Red River, was elected Pre
sident of the Convention.
On March 2nd, the Texas Declaration of Independence, officially establishing the Republic of Texas, was adopted unanimously with no debate. Based primarily on the writings of John Locke and Thomas Jefferson, the declaration proclaimed that the Mexican government had “ceased to protect the lives, liberty, and property of the people, from whom its legitimate powers are derived.”
Further grievances were enumerated such as that the Mexican government had promised the settlers constitutional liberty and a republican government. But freedom of religion, the right to keep and bear arms and the right to trial by jury were being denied by a centralist military dictatorship, under Antonio López de Santa Anna.
Debate over the drafting of the Texas Constitution was suddenly and unexpectedly halted when Ellis banged his gavel. “Order please for an important announcement from our secretary. The chair recognizes Herbert Simms Kimble.”
Kimble stood and cleared his throat. “We have just received a letter dated March 3rd from Colonel William B. Travis who is, as you all probably know, now in command of the Alamo. Colonel Travis says that they are besieged by an overwhelming force under the command of Santa Anna and he begs us for supplies and reinforcements stating that he cannot offer any assurance that the Alamo will not fall very soon.”
“Mr. President,” Robert Potter shouted over the growing buzz of alarm. “I move that we adjourn this Convention so the Delegates may march immediately to reinforce the Alamo.”
The room erupted in pandemonium that no amount of gavel banging or shouts for order by Kimble could quell.
Finally, by climbing on a table and drawing his pistol as if he would fire in the air, Houston got some attention. “Listen to me,” he shouted. “Please. Listen to me.” The room quieted a bit more. “We all knew that the Alamo was under attack and for all we know now, it may have already fallen.” He raised his pistol again and the shouts stopped. “There is nothing more important to Texas at this moment than your agreement on a constitution. Nothing. While you continue debate here, I will ride, at best possible speed, to Gonzales where Colonel Neill and Major Williamson have been gathering volunteers.”
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