Home of the Brave

by Jeffry Hepple

  “I don’t really know, Savannah. Somewhere else.”

  “Take me with you.”

  He looked at her and laughed. “Why is it that every fallen woman seems to think that I can redeem her?”

  “I have some money saved up.”

  He looked at her with new interest. “How much?”

  “Almost three thousand dollars.”

  He raised his eyebrows in amazement. “Three thousand?”

  “Almost. I forget exactly.”

  “United States dollars, not pesos?”

  “Texas dollars.”

  He put his pistol in its holster and looked toward the sound of guns. “Pack your things and gather up your money, Savannah. We’re going to start a business.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “Brownsville, Texas.”

  “Where’s that?”

  “Nowhere today but right across that river by tomorrow or the next day.”

  “Are you talkin’ about that new Fort Brown?”

  “Yes.”

  “What if the Mexican army wins the war?”

  “I think that’s very unlikely. In fact,” he pointed north. “That may be them coming right now, with their tails between their legs.”

  May 13, 1846

  Washington, District of Columbia

  President James K. Polk, before a joint session of the United States Congress, asked for a declaration of war against Mexico using the incident at Rodriguez Ford, which had become known as the Thornton Affair, as his justification: “The cup of forbearance had been exhausted even before the recent information from the frontier of the Rio Grande. But now, after reiterated menaces, Mexico has passed the boundary of the United States, has invaded our territory and shed American blood upon American soil. She has proclaimed that hostilities have commenced and that the two nations are now at war.”

  Polk’s detractors immediately attacked his decision. Prominent Congressman Joshua Giddings said: “In the murder of Mexicans upon their own soil, or in robbing them of their country, I can take no part either now or here-after. The guilt of these crimes must rest on others. I will not participate in them.”

  Congressman Abraham Lincoln of Illinois said that he seriously doubted Polk’s claim of an attack on American troops on American soil.

  Abolitionists claimed that the war was only an attempt to expand slavery into new territories and states.

  Former President John Quincy Adams agreed.

  Henry David Thoreau wrote an essay called Civil Disobedience.

  Using Polk’s declaration of war upon Mexico as justification, Antonio López de Santa Anna wrote to embattled President Valentín Gómez Farías in Mexico City. In his letter, Santa Anna stated unequivocally that he no longer had any aspirations to the presidency and he offered Farías his vast military experience in defense of his beloved Mexico. At the same time, Santa Anna was also negotiating with the United States and promising to sell all the disputed territory at a bargain price if he was given passage through the United States’ naval blockades.

  Mexican President Farías, who was desperately trying to hold his government together, accepted Santa Anna’s offer as did the United States. When Santa Anna had safely passed through the U.S. Naval blockade, Farías gave him command of the army. Once in command, Santa Anna declared himself president, ordered the arrest of Farías and moved aggressively to expel the United States from Mexican soil.

  May 18, 1846

  Matamoros, Tamaulipas, Mexico

  General Zachery Taylor had taken the city of Matamoros with no resistance and began the task of capturing fugitive Mexican soldiers. To gain intelligence, he had stationed Marina Van Buskirk at the main hospital to interrogate wounded Mexican soldiers.

  When Josiah Whipple appeared at the hospital, Marina pushed aside the ledger in which she’d been writing and began looking for something on the cluttered desk. “General Taylor says that you want a note from me for Thomas. I wrote one. If I can just find the damned thing. Oh. Wait. I remember where I put it.” She took an envelope from inside her blouse and handed it to Whipple. “That should satisfy him.”

  “Well it’s right nice to see you again too, Marina,” Whipple replied sarcastically. “Yer sure right, it’s been a long time.”

  She stood up and hugged him perfunctorily then sat back down. “I’ve been talking to shattered boys with missing limbs for several days, Josiah. It makes everything else seem unimportant.”

  “Mess-kins?”

  “Perhaps you’ve forgotten that I’m a Mexican,” she said sharply.

  “Well, shit, Marina. I didn’t mean nothin’ except to ask if you was talkin’ about Mess-kin soldiers or American soldiers. I don’t know nothin’ about this dang hospital, and I ain’t no Mess-kin hater neither, as you should damn well know.”

  “Sorry.” She shook her head. “Yes. The patients here are Mexican soldiers. Most are peasant boys who have no idea why they’re fighting. It’s a depressing place.”

  “You sure you wanna do this?”

  “Yes, I’m positive,” she said emphatically. “I’m very sorry that you had to come all the way down here for nothing. It really is a shame that my children think that I can no longer find my own way.”

  “Well then, guess I’ll be goin’ home.”

  She smiled. “Have a safe trip home.”

  “Oh, by the way, Sarah Knight got married. Her name’s Sarah Borginnes now. Or somethin’ like that. She’s startin’ up a hotel just down the road from here.” He pointed. “Sign’s up already. American House, she calls it. In case you was interested.”

  “Thank you, Josiah. I’ll visit her after I finish here.”

  “Okay. You watch your own-self, Marina. This here is likely to be a nasty little war.”

  Marina waited until he had walked out, then she retrieved the ledger and returned to the task of making notes.

  ~

  General William J. Worth limped down the stairs and crossed the lobby. “Josiah?”

  Josiah Whipple, who had been staring out the window, turned about abruptly and hurried to meet the general. “Sorry to bother you, Bill. I know you got more important matters in negotiatin’ the surrender treaty, and all.”

  Worth shook Whipple’s hand warmly. “The terms of surrender have already been agreed to and signed. General Taylor tells me that you’re a Texas Ranger now.”

  “Yes, sir, I am. That’s what I was aiming to talk to you about. You got a division of Rangers in your corps and I sure would be grateful if you could get me in it.”

  “Why can’t you go through regular channels?”

  “Well, if the government of the State of Texas moves as slow as the Republic of Texas done before it, the war’s likely t’ be over before I’d get my orders.”

  “What about your current duty assignment? Won’t the Rangers need to replace you?”

  “The company I’m with has another captain in it and the boys have been together long enough that they don’t hardly need no leaders, let alone two of us. Beside that, Tom Van Buskirk’s up there and he’s been swore in as a deputy if things get bad.”

  General Worth thought a moment. “Major is the highest Federal rank that a Ranger can hold. If you want your previous rank back I can put you in command of a brigade.”

  “I’d rather fight with the Rangers. I know most all of ‘em and they know me.”

  “Would you consider a small mounted rifle company?”

  “That would suit me fine, General.”

  “Good. Major Kingman has been asking me to fill his open position with a regular army captain but no regular officer wants to serve with the Rangers.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “They say the Rangers are too undisciplined and reckless.”

  “Well that ain’t me. I’m the soul of discipline and caution.”

  “Yes. I remember well how cautious you were, Colonel.” Grinning, he shook Whipple’s hand again. “When Win Scott gets into this, I’d like to try to join
him. Not that I have any misgivings of serving under General Taylor. It’s just that Win and I are close friends.”

  “Yes, sir?” Whipple was unsure of Worth’s point.

  “Since you and General Taylor are so close, I’d consider it a favor if you mentioned that to him when the time is right.”

  “Oh.” Whipple nodded. “Yeah, sure. I see what yer getting’ at. I’ll be more ‘en glad to do that for ya, Bill. More ‘en glad.”

  ~

  The American House was a flat-roofed, three-story stone and adobe building with an arched entryway above saloon doors. The first floor was occupied by a cantina and dancehall while the two floors above were divided into small rooms. Marina made her way through the noisy cantina to the crowded bar. “I’m looking for Sarah Borginnes,” she said in Spanish to the busy bartender.

  He tipped his head toward the back. “Office. Next to the stairs.”

  “Thank you.” Marina walked to the small door and knocked.

  “Come on in,” Sarah shouted. “It ain’t locked.”

  Marina opened the door and smiled at the big woman behind the small desk. “You didn’t waste any time starting a business.”

  “I didn’t start it. I just bought it and changed the name. Sit you down and tell me what you been doin’ since we last talked.” She pointed at a battered cowhide couch.

  Marina sank wearily into the lumpy cushions. “Do you have baths here?”

  “Yup. But they ain’t very private.”

  “I don’t care. No man’s going to take any interest in me at my age. I need a room too. Staying at the hospital is too disheartening.”

  “There’s lots o’ better places than this over on the plaza.”

  “This is closer to the hospital.”

  Sarah leaned across her desk. “Marina, this here is a cat house and a gamblin’ joint. It ain’t fit for a lady.”

  “I’m not a lady, Sarah; I’m just married to a gentleman. I used to work in a brothel.”

  “You never.”

  “I did.”

  “Doin’ what?”

  “Playing poker and entertaining men.”

  “You?”

  “Yes. I have a very jaded past.”

  “Does anybody else know?”

  “I’ve never tried to keep it a secret.”

  “Well, I’ll be. I sure took you for an educated lady.”

  “I said that I wasn’t a lady. I didn’t say I wasn’t educated. Do I get the room?”

  “You sure that you want to stay here?”

  “Yes. It’s far better than alone in that hospital or in a tent with Zach Taylor’s army.”

  Sarah looked unconvinced. “I’m bigger and meaner than most men, but look at you. You’re such a little thing.”

  “I have a little helper though.” Marina crossed her legs, pulled up the hem of her dress and showed Sarah the holster strapped to her calf.

  “Yer little helper is too little.”

  “Little but lethal. This is one of the new Derringer pocket pistols. I used to keep a little custom made Swiss pepperbox in my garter that Jean Lafitte gave me, but it was hard to load and you had to mold your own bullets. This is a standard .41 caliber, caplock. It’s much easier to load, more reliable, and more accurate.”

  “D’ ya think you could use it if you had to?”

  “I have before.”

  “Well then. There’s a nice room down the hall from me on the third floor. I’ll get it ready for ya. Why don’t you come back in an hour?”

  Marina stood up. “Send someone to get me when it’s ready, please. I’ll be in the cantina playing poker after I finish my bath. Where’s the bathroom?”

  “On the other side of the stairs. Tell ‘em to bill your room.”

  “Thank you.” Marina walked out through the cantina, around the sweeping staircase and into the door in the back.

  “Help you?” a girl asked in English.

  “I need a bath in clean water and a clean towel,” Marina replied in Spanish. “A little privacy would be good too.”

  “I can give you the first tub and a clean towel but all I can do for your privacy is what you see.” She gestured toward the space behind her where bathtubs were only partially hidden by cotton sheets suspended from the ceiling.

  “That’s fine. Bill my room. Marina Van Buskirk.”

  “Ah,” a man said from nearby. “I thought I recognized a voice from my past.”

  “Where are you, William?” Marina picked up her towel, the small bar of soap and the brass tag with her tub number on it.

  He pulled on the sheet to make it bounce. “Here.”

  Marina walked back between the rows of sheets, pushed one aside and stepped in next to the bathtub. “Every peace officer on both sides of the border is looking for you, William,” she said in a near whisper.

  “I know. Aren’t you proud that I’m so popular?” He pulled the sheet on his right back. “Mother, I’d like you to meet Savannah Hansen. Savannah, this is my mother, Marina Cortés Van Buskirk.”

  “Charmed,” Savannah replied, waggling her bubble-dripping, bejeweled fingers.

  William let the sheet fall. “I’d ask you to sit down, Mother, but, alas, there’s no visiting area.”

  “I think we’ve said everything that needs to be said.”

  “If you should change your mind, Savannah and I have started a business across the river in the camp followers settlement at Fort Brown. It’s a big white tent with a sign on the front that says Lucky’s.”

  “I’ll try not to remember that.” Marina turned and ducked back under the sheet to find her own bathtub.

  September 24, 1846

  Monterrey, Mexico

  After the stinging defeats and the loss of Matamoros, General Santa Anna ordered the surviving three-thousand-man Mexican Army of the North, now under General Pedro de Ampudia, to retreat to Saltillo. Ampudia, fearing mutiny from his disheartened men, ignored Santa Anna’s order and instead made a stand at the fortified city of Monterrey.

  The American infantry attack was launched on September 21st and repelled with heavy casualties.

  On the following day, Taylor sent Captain Braxton Bragg at the city with his flying artillery, but concentrated cannon fire from four little hills to the west shredded Brag’s force and he too was forced to withdraw.

  On the morning of the 24th, a company of General William J. Worth’s Texas Ranger Division, supported by an infantry company, stormed the hills and turned the cannons on the fleeing Mexican artillerymen. After a short lull, the hills came under intense attack from batteries inside the city and the captured cannons were withdrawn beyond the crest to protect them.

  Captain Josiah Whipple crawled forward with Daniel O’Hara, a young Ranger lieutenant, and aimed his telescope at the city. “Them guns there ain’t firing no Mexican powder.”

  “How do you know?” O’Hara asked.

  “Too accurate.” He pointed at a battery with an emerald green battle flag waving in the breeze above the cannons. “Who the devil is that? It ain’t English or Spanish on their guidon.”

  “That’s the God Damned San Patricios.” O’Hara spit in the dirt.

  Whipple looked at the younger man, surprised by his vehemence. “Never heard of ‘em. Seeing how you just reacted, ‘guess I should of, though.”

  “They’re deserters commanded by Lieutenant John Riley, an Irish artilleryman who deserted at Matamoros.”

  “Ya don’t say. So I guess, you bein’ a Irishman and all, that troubles y’ more’n it does me.”

  “The flag says ‘Erin go Bragh’ which means ‘Ireland forever’ in Gaelic.”

  “Seems a odd mot-to since we ain’t got no fight with the Irish.”

  “I resent the fact that the dirty bastards are my countrymen and bragging about it.”

  Whipple rolled onto his back to look toward the sound of an approaching horse and then slid down the hill and got to his feet.

  “General Worth’s compliments and congratulatio
ns, sir,” the aide said. “The general wishes to inform you that a detachment of artillerymen and additional infantry is on their way to take charge of these guns and relieve you of this position.”

  “Very well, Lieutenant,” Whipple replied. “Did the general say where we was to go when they relieve us?”

  “No, sir. But I would assume it would be the assembly area at the command post.”

  “That ain’t real useful, Lieutenant. I don’t feel like walkin’ clear down this hill just to be told to climb back up and run down t’other side. You been back there at the command post. Gimme some idea of what the general’s thinkin’.”

  “There’s to be a diversion on the north and south sides of the city to draw that artillery away from this side, but I can’t say when.”

  Whipple shrugged. “Guess we’ll just wait here then. If we don’t get no contrary orders, we’ll charge down the hill into the city when the diversion starts.”

  “I’ll tell the general what you said, sir.” He saluted.

  Whipple returned the salute and sat down in the grass. “Now I remember how come I quit the damn army.”

  Lieutenant O’Hara had been watching the rear while Whipple was talking to General Worth’s aide. “Our howitzers.” He pointed. “They must have moved them up the river from Port Isabel.”

  “Well then, Lieutenant, as soon as we’re relieved of these here guns, tell the men to find ‘em a comfortable spot and take ‘em a little siesta. As soon as Worth gets them howitzers unlimbered he’s gonna pound the city ‘til the sunset’s a-shinin’ in them Mess-kin’s eyes. That when he’ll launch the diversion.”

  “What if the San Patricios don’t fall for the diversion?”

  “You’ll learn what it’s like to be part of a forlorn hope, I reckon. Tell the men what the doin’s is. And tell that captain of the infantry that he’s to be reinforced while yer about it.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  ~

  “Are you awake, Captain Whipple?” Lieutenant O’Hara asked.