“Does that mean you think Billy’s dead?” she asked.
“No,” the Ranger replied. “I think the Cap’an means you ain’t likely to see Billy again. Have y’ heard tell of the Red Robber of the Rio Grande?”
She nodded. “Of course. He just stole the payroll for Fort Brown. There’s been little talk of anything else.”
“The Red Robber is Juan N. Cortina,” the captain said. “Your partner is riding with him.”
She closed her eyes for a moment. “Oh no.”
“We’ve took up enough of yer time, Ma’am,” the Ranger said. “If ol’ Billy should turn up, be mighty careful. He ain’t what he seems.”
“Thank you.”
Savannah walked back to the table and resumed her seat then winked at the bearded man across from her.
Outside the tent, Josiah Whipple signaled the combined U.S. Army and Texas Ranger task force to encircle the tent. “She’s a good liar,” he said to the young army captain. “Onliest thing she forgot to mention is that she didn’t get around to reportin’ Van Buskirk as bein’ captured by Cortina fer almost a week. I figger he come back and told her to.”
“So he could hide in plain sight, so to speak,” the captain suggested.
Whipple nodded. “Like he just done.”
“Pardon me?”
“That feller with the beard was him.”
“Are you sure?”
“No. But everybody else in the place was lookin’ at us except him.”
The captain nodded. “How do you want to handle it?”
“I’ll go back in and either flush the bastard out, kill ‘m or get kilt. You make sure he don’t get away.” As he turned back toward the tent, gunfire erupted from behind it and a lone rider on a cavalry mount dashed out, headed toward the resaca. “Sum-bitch.” Whipple swung onto his horse and raced out in pursuit.
April 16, 1847
Port Isabel, Texas
Whipple rode up to the front of the wagon train and dismounted.
“Jack Van Buskirk, have you met Captain Josiah Whipple of the Texas Rangers?” Thomas asked.
Jack was on a stretcher on the ground behind a small covered wagon and Thomas was standing beside him. Jack tried to sit up but got no higher than to prop himself on his elbows. “I don’t think so but I’m a bit fuzzy.”
“Don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure,” Whipple said, kneeling to shake Jack’s hand. “I’m gonna be takin’ you and these other folks back up to the ranch while Tom heads down to Mexico City.”
“A word with you please, Josiah,” Thomas said, walking away from the wagon train.
“I know, I know,” Whipple said as he caught up with Thomas. “I’m right sorry, Tom. I plumb forgot what you said about not mentionin’ where you was goin’.”
“There were two things I told you not to mention,” Tom said angrily. “Do you remember the other one?”
“Yeah, I remember,” Whipple said, showing some of his own temper. “I ain’t supposed to tell yer brother, Jack, about yer murderin’ sum-bitch brother, William.” He shook his head. “I ain’t never seen the like of y’all with yer damn secrets and fancy ways.”
Tom turned his back on Whipple and returned to stand beside Jack’s stretcher.
Jack raised himself on his elbows again and looked questioningly at Thomas. “Mexico City?”
Thomas shrugged. “I wasn’t going to tell you but you’ll hear sooner or later. Mother was captured by the Mexican army just after the battle of Buena Vista in late February. I got word last week that she’s being held in Chapultepec Castle. I’m going down there with my regiment to free her.”
“Chapultepec Castle isn’t going to fall to a regiment of cowboys turned horse soldiers, Thomas.”
“It’s a military academy, Jack.”
“It’s a fort, first, and a school second.”
“Ya’ll still fight like schoolboys,” Whipple observed.
“Why don’t you go see what’s holding up this train instead of minding our business?” Thomas suggested. “The rest of the people are anxious to move out.” He pointed.
“We’re waitin’ on Clementine,” Whipple replied in an annoyed tone of voice. “She’s makin’ sure everybody’s singin’ from the same hymnal.”
“Were you planning to drag me along behind you?” Jack asked.
Thomas made a face. “That might be easier than lifting you into that high wagon.”
“We need somebody inside; soon as Clem gets back, we’ll load y’ up,” Whipple said.
“We can load Jack without her,” Thomas replied.
Jack gritted his teeth and tried to sit up again. “I’m not a damned invalid.”
“Yeah, y’are.” Whipple bent to pick up the handles of the stretcher. “Say when, Tom.”
“When.” Tom lifted his end then tried to put the handles into the wagon but lost his balance. To keep from dumping Jack off the stretcher, Whipple had to lift his end over his head. They were in a real struggle when a pretty young girl in a red cloak rushed over to jump into the wagon and help pull Jack inside.
“Thank ye, Clem,” Whipple panted when they had the stretcher in the wagon bed. “Damn near dropped our charge before we even got ‘em on the road.”
“I’m Clementine Rogers, Colonel Van Buskirk,” the young woman said to Jack. She patted his hand.
Jack smiled but couldn’t manage a reply.
Clementine pointed out the back of the wagon at the wagon train. “The people behind us are impatient to get underway.” Stooping to avoid the cover bows, she walked forward, gathered her skirts and slipped over the seat back and into the wagon’s seat.
“Ya’ll better say yer goodbyes,” Whipple said, walking toward his horse.
Thomas nodded and squeezed Jack’s hand. “I’m happy to see you, brother.”
“Go gather the family and I’ll see you at your place,” Jack replied.
Thomas jumped down from the back of the wagon and secured the gate. “Move out, Clem.”
Clementine released the brake. “Giddyap,” she called to the team. She whipped the reins then looked back to watch the other wagons.
“Who are all those people following us?” Jack called out over the rumble and rattle of the wagon.
“Family and other folks that came down here with your brother’s regiment,” she replied. “Tom wants to be able to move faster now, so he’s sending most of us back. He says we’re non-essential personnel. Who thinks up all those convoluted military phrases?”
Jack tried to sit up but abandoned the effort quickly. “Do we have an armed escort other than just Captain Whipple?”
“We’ll have other Rangers with us as we pass through their territories. Not that we really need them. All these women and older children can load and shoot a rifle. Nobody’s going to mess with two hundred guns.”
“Do you have a rifle?”
“No. I have a Walker-Colt six-shooter and a shotgun.”
“Let me have one of them.”
“Just relax and let us take care of you, Colonel. You’re in good hands.”
April 17, 1847
Cerro Gordo, Mexico
At the sound of distant cannon fire, Winfield Scott halted his march toward Mexico City. “Go see what that’s about,” he said to an aide.
“Yes, sir.” The man kicked his horse into a run and continued down the road.
“I don’t know what purpose my cavalry serves when they’re out there skirmishing and leaving this army blind,” Scott complained to Yank.
Yank relit his cigar. “It was a short barrage. They might have stumbled into a trap that was set for the main body.” He pointed up the road with his cigar. “About two miles ahead, the road goes through a narrow canyon before it reaches the village of Cerro Gordo. Cortés was ambushed there and he took a hell of a beating from the warriors of Jalapa who didn’t have cannons. Santa Anna does have cannons. Cerro Gordo could be a death trap.”
“Is there another way around?”
“Maybe. If we
could move our artillery north through the rocks we’d be able to flank his guns from higher ground and silence them.”
Scott shaded his eyes and looked toward the rugged, mountainous terrain. “We’d move so slowly, make so much noise and raise so much dust that Santa Anna would know what we were doing.”
“He’s dug in on the ridges on both sides of the road with nowhere to maneuver. He either has to retreat, or slug it out.” Yank pointed. “Here comes the message rider from Harney’s dragoons. He must have passed your aide on the road.”
Scott nodded and waited for the man to ride to them.
“Colonel Harney’s compliments,” the messenger said breathlessly.
Scott returned the man’s salute. “How many?”
“At least twelve-thousand, sir, judging by the battle flags. They’re well dug in and they have good positions for their batteries. Colonel Harney says there’ll be Hell to pay for passage through that canyon.”
“Very well. Tell Colonel Harney that we’re scouting a route to march around the enemy’s flank.”
“Yes, sir.”
Yank turned in his saddle toward another aide. “My compliments to Captain Lee. Ask him if he would join us, please.”
“Yes, sir.” The man turned out of the column and rode toward the rear.
“At least it’s cooler here,” Scott observed. “We should get some relief from the yellow fever.”
Yank nodded. “We’ve lost more men to the fever than to combat.”
“Jack should have reached Port Isabel by now,” Scott said.
“Yes. I think Zach Taylor’s there. I’m hoping that Marina’s with Zach and that she’ll be motivated enough by Jack’s illness to take him north. I’d feel better if she was out of harm’s way.”
Scott looked stricken.
“What’s wrong, Win?” Yank asked in alarm.
“While you were in the dungeon we received a message from General Taylor saying that Marina had been captured by Santa Anna. In the confusion of your being released as we were moving out, it must have slipped Robert’s mind to mention it to you.”
They waited in silence until Captain Robert E. Lee rode up to join them and saluted.
“Santa Anna has set an ambush for us in the canyon ahead.” Scott pointed toward the mountains to their north. “I want you to find a way to move your artillery into a flanking position.”
“Yes, sir.”
Scott watched Lee ride back then looked at Yank. “Are you all right?”
“Fine.”
April 18, 1847
San Antonio, Texas
“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Clementine Rodgers asked Jack Van Buskirk.
“I’m much stronger today. Besides, it’s rougher riding back there than it is up here with you. The seat has springs. The wagon bed doesn’t.” He was looking out over a broad meadow of bluebonnets and Indian paintbrush. “I never expected to see so many flowers in Texas.”
“Enjoy them while they last. In another week or two the grass will be up so tall that you’ll only see some long-legged sunflowers, primrose and few Mexican hats here and there. Good for cows, but not as pretty.”
“Have you been here long?”
“This is my third spring in Texas.”
“Where are you from?”
“Buffalo, New York.”
“Really? I was stationed there for some time. Perhaps I know your family.”
“If you discover that you do, please don’t mention that you saw me to anyone that might talk to them.”
“Family feud?”
“Only me with them as long as they can’t find me.”
“You can’t have come here alone.”
She glanced at him. “Why can’t I have?”
“Well,” he looked embarrassed. “You’re just a girl.”
“I’m eighteen.”
“If this is your third spring in Texas, you were fifteen when you came here.”
“Yes. I was fourteen when I left Buffalo.”
“That’s very young to be traveling alone to such a dangerous place.”
“Staying in Buffalo was more dangerous. I had to get away from my mother’s new husband.”
“How do you get by on your own with no family?”
“I’m a whore. Didn’t Josiah tell you?”
Jack’s face turned red. “I’m sorry.”
“About what?”
“Prying.”
She laughed. “I didn’t think you were prying. Why does it embarrass you that I’m a whore?”
He looked away at the wildflowers. “I don’t know. It just does.”
“Because of your mother’s past?”
Now he turned back toward her. “You know about that?”
“Yes. She doesn’t seem to be troubled by it and discusses it openly.”
“Her past is a matter of some shame to me.”
“Shame? Why? She didn’t have any choice.”
“One always has choices.”
“Too right. She had the choice of dying or living.” Clementine shook her head in disgust.
Jack didn’t offer a reply.
“Dying would have been a bad choice for you since, if she’d made that one, you wouldn’t even exist,” Clementine continued angrily.
“I’m beginning to feel poorly. Perhaps you could stop a moment to let me return to my place in the wagon.”
“No. I’m not stopping the whole column just because you’re a prig.” She looked at him for a moment. “Don’t worry. I don’t have anything contagious that you can catch by sitting beside me.”
“I’m not a prig,” he said after some time.
“A prude, then. A narrow-minded bigot. A woman hater. Whatever you are, I don’t like you any better than you like me.”
“I have nothing personal against you but I don’t approve of prostitution. And, I’m a widower, not a woman hater.”
“I don’t approve of prostitution either. It’s a degrading, demoralizing and dangerous way to make a living. It does, however, have an advantage over starving, freezing to death or being raped regularly. And it is legal.”
April 18, 1847
Cerro Gordo, Mexico
On General Scott’s order, Captain Lee opened fire on the Mexican flank. After a fierce artillery duel, Scott ordered a bayonet charge and the much smaller American force swept down from the higher ground to rout Santa Anna’s army.
At the end of the day, Scott suffered sixty-three dead, three hundred-sixty-seven wounded.
Santa Anna losses included four-hundred thirty-six killed, seven-hundred-sixty-four wounded, and over three thousand captured. Santa Anna also lost forty cannons and six generals.
April 20, 1847
Chapultepec Castle, Mexico
There was no moon and a low cloud cover had created a nearly opaque night. The only visible light was a single candle in the watchtower that stood high above the center of the castle’s roof. Marina was wearing only a black chemise tucked into black pantalettes. She had wanted to darken her skin but could find nothing that could be applied and then easily removed.
After searching in vain for a way to climb down to the ground and escape, she had, with a great deal of difficulty, climbed up from the terrace of her apartment to the castle roof. The effort had so far proved to be of no value however, because the stairs and ladders down were either locked or heavily guarded.
At the front of the castle, facing the King’s Mill, there were two seemingly identical cylindrical, tower-like structures on each corner. Closer inspection, however, proved that the tower on the right contained apartments and the tower on the left was in fact a water tower, open at the top to collect rainwater. Out of options and with dawn approaching, she climbed the iron ladder of the water tower and discovered that inside, floating on the surface of the water, was a small boat. After climbing down the interior ladder and capturing and searching the boat, she found nothing else useful and returned to her apartment.
When the sun arose and
the maid came in with Marina’s breakfast, the woman noticed the abrasions on Marina’s hands. “I will bring you a little extra food each day if you will swear not to tell.”
“I swear,” Marina said. “I need a water-proof bag or a box too and some rope.”
“I can get you the bag or box for the food but you will have to get the rope from someone else.”
“Thank you.”
“For nothing.”
“How much support does Santa Anna have from the people?” Marina asked.
“Very little. When the North Americans came to Puebla the people, because of their hatred of Santa Anna, surrendered the city to them without firing a shot.”
“Will Mexico City fall as easily?”
The woman shook her head. “No, but if the North Americans capture this castle, only a small number of citizens in Mexico City will resist.”
“When this castle is attacked, how much time will I have before I am killed?”
“None, Señora. The guards in the hallway have orders to kill you when the first shot is fired.” She hurried from the room.
April 21, 1847
Fort Fisher, Texas
Charlie Lagrange reined in his horse and took out his telescope to train it on the wisp of smoke emanating from a ruined building at Fort Fisher. He scanned the area and saw one saddle horse tied to a tree but no other signs of life. He put away his telescope to ride cautiously onward.
The fort, named for Secretary of War William S. Fisher when it was built in February of 1837 by Major William H. Smith’s battalion of Texas Rangers, was garrisoned by Captain Thomas H. Barron’s company until June of the same year, when it was abandoned.
Lagrange drew his pistol as he left the cover of cedars and then looked at the fresh hoof prints in the soft earth. To his relief, he saw the right forefoot print did not have the familiar notch of the horse he’d been following. However, he remained wary and dismounted with his horse between him and the old building. “Hello in the fort.”
Home of the Brave Page 32
