Chapter 9
The Fall of Bexar
Who will go with old Ben Milam into Bexar?
-Ben Milam
Volunteer Texas Army Camp-Early December, 1835
Hawk donned his serape and sombrero and headed for the city. After two weeks of his bi-weekly routine he had begun to grow comfortable with his role as a Tejano. In truth, he did not think of what he was doing as spying at all. He was just doing his best to help the cause. The other part - Antonia, and all that she portended – was interesting and perplexing. On the one hand, he told himself that this was no time to become entangled with a woman, especially one so obviously complex as she. On the other hand, he felt helpless to stop himself. His emotions had the better of him. This was not something that he was accustomed to, and it bothered him greatly that he could not seem to control himself.
As he passed into the city, he greeted the guards, who apparently suspected nothing untoward.
At the Guard Post
Francisco despised guard duty. Because he was supposed to help at the southeast gate until midnight, he would miss the excitement at the cantina tonight. He had developed an attraction for the beautiful woman who sang with such passion. Having found out from Hernando that her name was Antonia, he nonetheless understood full well that he would never have the nerve to approach her. He simply enjoyed worshipping her from afar. To Francisco, she symbolized everything virtuous in a woman. In his estimation, she was the very image of the Virgin Mary.
On this particular evening there was almost no traffic at all coming and going through the gate. Still, one hombre attracted his attention. Could it be…yes, he believed it was. This was the man he had seen on more than one occasion within the cantina. He had attracted Francisco’s attention because he too had seemed to hold some special interest in the Señora. Although he had never seen him speak to her, Francisco had noticed that the Señora had on several occasions glanced at the man. Were they perhaps lovers? Surely not - this hombre was not good enough for the Virgin Antonia.
Who was this hombre? Francisco decided that it bore investigation. Reporting to his superior officer at the gate that he was suspicious of this hombre, he requested permission to follow him. Permission granted, he trailed him at a safe distance.
Within the City
Hawk wanted desperately to go see Antonia’s performance, but he reminded himself that caution was paramount. Because he had already gone there several times in the last couple of weeks, he deemed it safer to make his way directly to her room and await her arrival. Just before midnight she appeared, whispering breathlessly, “I was afraid that you were not coming, since you did not come to the cantina tonight, but perhaps that is for the better. Better to not draw attention to yourself.” She paused a moment and then stared directly into his eyes. “How are things out on the prairie?”
Startled by her bold gaze, he swallowed nervously and blurted, “The weather is starting to be an issue. The cold is a problem, but the rain is worse. We have very little cover out there.”
“How is the army of volunteers holding up?”
“I would rather not say,” he prevaricated.
Perplexed by his expression, she murmured, “Why?”
He reflected, “Well, I should have thought it would be obvious. What if you are captured? They could probably force any information out of you that you possess.”
“Ha!” she said brightly. “I shall not get captured. You see, I am not really spying at all. The only thing I do is wait tables at the cantina, and while doing so, I simply listen. One can hear everything one needs to just by listening to the chatter of drunken soldiers.”
“All the same, I would prefer to not supply you with information that could endanger you.”
“I understand. I appreciate your honesty, as well as your desire to protect me,” she responded politely.
Hawk stared at her for a moment and admitted, “Antonia, I do not know what makes the world go around. I confess I do not comprehend what is going on here, but I can only say that I feel as if a spell has been cast upon me. You have surrounded me. I suppose this will sound trite, but to be honest, I feel something, something powerful for you,” and so saying, he appeared distraught at his forlorn admission.
For her part she stood motionless and, a hint of a tiny smile reaching the corner of her lips, she whispered intimately, “I know, I can see with my own eyes Señor Halcón, and I thank you for your honesty from deep within my heart.” Then her look hardened and, appearing exceedingly proud, she added, “But please do not speak to me this way, Señor. I hold no interest in such things.”
Abruptly feeling the sting of her final words, Hawk stammered in response, “Señora Perez, I apologize. I have let my emotions get the better of me. You shall not hear another word from me on this subject.”
At this she replied sadly, “Such is the nature of extreme danger, Señor. The very situation that has thrown us together, the sheer intensity of the emotions, now becomes your worst enemy. And there is the irony of it.”
Certain that he could not improve on her words, he whispered miserably, “I’ll say.”
Antonia then gave Hawk some important information regarding the morale in the Mexican Army. “I will see you on Thursday night,” he said, and stepping obliviously into the night, he failed to notice the Mexican soldier scrutinizing him from the adjacent alleyway.
San Antonio de Bexar-The Next Day
General Cos was seriously disappointed in his troops. Why was it that the Mexican army always sent the least prepared soldiers farthest from home, where the likelihood of battle was by far the greatest? He could feel it in his military bones - this army was not prepared to fight when the time came. These so-called Texians were tenacious, and he could tell that they had much more to lose than his soldiers. The Mexican troops under his command, many of whom were convicted felons, wanted nothing more of this group of wild men from the back woods. Cos secretly believed that it was all a plot by President Andrew Jackson - that most of the warriors they faced had been sent from the United States by the U.S. government for the purposes of colonization. Accordingly, he wondered how in the name of the Virgin Mary he would be able to rally his troops to win this battle in this godforsaken place.
Gonzales-December
Sam Houston pondered as to why the council had ever bothered to name him commander of the regular army. Despite his best efforts, he had been unable to raise a substantial force. He felt that he alone completely understood the nature of this war, if indeed it could be called that. From a military perspective, Bexar and the Alamo mission were of little or no strategic importance, but he’d been unable to convince anyone of this fact. He had even written to James Fannin, the highest ranking regular officer in San Antonio, and ordered him to vacate his army to Gonzales. But his order, like every other one sent to the front, had been ignored. His patience was tried more with each passing day, but somehow he had to find a way to impress upon the fighting men of Texas that their only hope lay within the eastern part of the colony. Only east of the Trinity was there sufficient population to defeat an army from Mexico. Nowhere else in Texas was there strategic justification for making war against Mexico. He continued to ponder, but no immediate solution came to his mind.
San Antonio
James Bowie’s frustration grew with each passing day. First, the Texians had elected Edward Burleson to replace General Austin as commander of the volunteer army. Then, as more and more men poured into Bexar, the situation had grown still worse. General Burleson didn’t seem to have a clue how to lead this conglomeration of misfits, and to make matters worse, a growing rabble of dissenters was questioning every order and detail of the army’s plans. Bowie was therefore deeply concerned that the whole army would disintegrate without accomplishing the fundamental task at hand – to defeat General Cos’ army.
Something had to be done, and the only solution he could muster was to le
ave the army and go to San Felipe to drum up support. The decision made, at length he saddled up and headed east. As he rode out on the road to Gonzalez, he stopped to take one last look at his beloved San Antonio. He hoped he would see her again, and soon.
Volunteer Army of Texas Camp-A Few Days Later
General Edward Burleson was deep in discussion with his staff when a messenger came in to inform him that Lieutenant Banks had arrived with important news. Shaking his head as he entered, Burleson exclaimed, “Come in here, Mr. Banks. You know the men here. Have a seat and join our strategic discussion. We were just debating the possibility of pulling out of Bexar for the winter. The weather will turn cold soon, and with the winter rains, it will be difficult to sustain the army. I don’t have to tell you that a volunteer army does not do well with a siege, Lieutenant. I must ask you, what are your thoughts on the subject, sir?”
“Sir, with all due respect, I believe that neither option is the right one for us at this moment,” Hawk replied.
“Why is that?” Burleson responded with a puzzled look.
“Sir, as you well know, I have been working with a Tejano in Bexar for the past few weeks. During that period, I’ve been sneaking into the city a couple of times a week. I went in last night under cover of darkness.”
“Excellent, Mr. Banks. What have you been able to discern, if I may be so bold?”
“Well, sir, it seems to my eye that the entire Mexican Army is dispirited. Actually, they seem to be nearly to the point of mutiny. Rumor has it that half of them are threatening to break off and make a run for the Rio Grande.”
At this the entire room broke into cacophony, every officer astounded by this unforeseen revelation.
Burleson now held up his hands to quiet the group, interjecting, “Now, now, gentlemen. Let us hear Mr. Banks out. Sir, on what or whom do you base this information? Is it reliable?”
Hawk looked offended, “Why, yes, sir. It is most reliable. I assure you, I have absolute confidence in my contact.”
“And who might that be, sir?” General Burleson queried.
“Sir, I cannot say. It is a matter of security. If the identity of this person were to become known, then an entire family within the city would be in mortal danger. But let me say this, I have been meeting with this person on a regular basis, and every piece of information that I have received has proven to be accurate, with the exception of the silver shipment. Sir, Captain Seguin knows our contact, and I believe that he will confirm my assertion.”
“Understood. Continue, sir.”
Hawk now added, “Sir, based on my information, supplies are low in the city, and the soldiers are drinking a great deal. They are in no shape for a battle. Although they have fortified the Alamo, the interior of the city is not prepared for battle at all. Because the perimeter is much too large for the current number of soldiers to properly defend their perimeter, there are several points along their defenses that are poorly defended. . I therefore believe that a surprise attack by our forces would catch them completely off guard. I expect that we could surround at least half of their army before they could withdraw to the relative safety of the Alamo.”
Apparently nonplussed, General Burleson simply stared at Hawk. But Hawk continued, suggesting, “Sir, anything at all would be better than retreating to Gonzales. If we do that, this entire volunteer army will melt away into the Texas woods. And these men will not come back, not ever. If you ask me, they want to fight, and they want to fight now, sir.”
Having been taken completely off guard by Hawk’s resoluteness, General Burleson prevaricated, “Gentlemen, comments?”
William Travis immediately spoke up, “Sir, I agree with Lieutenant Banks. Let us strike while we have the opportunity. We can take General Cos and Bexar, I am quite certain of it.”
Eyeing Travis silently, Burleson’s low opinion of him was readily apparent.
But then old Ben Milam proffered, “General, I’m just about fed up with sittin’ around. I agree with Banks here. I come up from the Rio Grande, and one thing everybody knows down there is that the soldiers from the north of Mexico are the worst ones in the whole country of Mexico. They’re a bunch of convicts and no-goods. We can whip them for sure. Look what we done at Concepcion. Their weapons are damn near worthless against our long rifles.”
Burleson was nonetheless uncertain. “Anyone else?” he said tersely. “No one? Alright, I will consider your suggestions and give you a response tomorrow morning,” at which the group dispersed.
That Night Within the Camp
Hank was more than ready to go home, except he couldn’t figure out how. First, there was Hawk. He seemed to be having the time of his life. Between whoring and drinking, Hawk didn’t seem to have enough hours in the day. Hank couldn’t figure out where Hawk was getting it, but he was sure that there was a regular ration of female companionship in his diet.
As more and more men poured into San Antonio, Hawk’s yarns became increasingly flamboyant, to the point that he had become sort of a folk hero within the volunteer army. Several men claimed even to have known him back in Kentucky. And for some reason, Hawk didn’t seem to mind at all that the siege was getting nowhere fast.
Hank wondered what in tarnation their leaders were doing, because they sure as heck weren’t leading!. It seemed that every day was a replay of the previous one. Rumors would come down that they were going to attack, and then by mid-afternoon, it would circulate among the ranks that it had been just that – rumors - and nothing more.
To top off his misery, cold weather was beginning to set in. He wanted to go home and rub up against a nice woman in the warmth of his own cabin. It had now been more than two months since he’d heard Julie’s voice, and he missed her terribly. He thought to write her a letter, but he couldn’t think of anything to say. What would he say – “We ain’t done nothin’ but sit around on our tails for six weeks?” It would be better to say nothing at all than that tripe. So he said nothing.
Later that Night
Hawk put on his serape and headed towards the city. He was supposed to wait until Thursday to call on Antonia, but he was unusually worried. He now thought there was a distinct possibility that the Texians would attack Bexar on the morrow, and he wanted to get this information to Antonia so she could be out of harm’s way when it came.
In his haste he failed to observe his own protocol, mistakenly approaching the same guard gate that he had passed through on the previous evening. Unfortunately, the guards were waiting for him, and they immediately placed him under arrest. Having no idea what he had done to tip them off, he determined his best course of action was to play the fool, at least for the time being.
He therefore protested, “What! Why am I under arrest? I am a good citizen of Mexico. Long live Santa Anna, our president. Please, I do not understand this. I demand to know why I am being held against my will!”
This was the wrong thing to say, as anyone from Mexico would know. Mexican citizens do not generally protest. In their culture it is preferable to supplicate, to ask politely, but never to demand. Given this fact, Hawk simply confirmed the suspicions of the soldiers. Accordingly, he was placed under arrest and taken to the city jail.
Volunteer Army of Texas Camp-The Following Morning
Hank was concerned when Hawk didn’t return from the previous night’s foray. Hank saw through Hawk’s claim that each time he went out he was “surveying defenses”. Secretly, he considered the most likely possibility was that Hawk had been sneaking into the city, chasing women, and that in the process he had gotten himself captured by the Mexican army. That mustache that Hawk had grown was a dead giveaway as far as Hank was concerned. And concerned as he was, he went to report it even before he’d had his morning coffee.
Upon locating Captain Seguin, Hank exclaimed, “Sir, I believe I may have something significant to report.”
“Yes, what is on your mind?”
Seguin replied.
“Sir, Hawk didn’t come back to camp last night. I believe he may have been captured,” Hank said succinctly.
“What! He didn’t come back? That is no good. I will report it fast, Señor. Thank you. This is very important news,” at which Seguin turned to report Hank’s revelation.
As Captain Seguin arrived at General Burleson’s quarters, he could see that some sort of hoopla was already underway, thereby obliging him to hold off reporting on Hawk at the moment.
Arguing with several officers, General Burleson commanded, “Gentlemen, that is my final decision - the army will vacate Bexar and take up winter quarters in Gonzalez. This engagement is a lost cause!”
At this pronouncement there was stunned silence. Suddenly, several men started arguing among themselves. As they did so, the cacophony amplified, attracting increasing attention to the disruption. Within minutes, virtually the entire army was assembled at the general’s headquarters. General Burleson attempted repeatedly to quiet them down, announcing repeatedly, “Gentlemen, gentlemen, please!” but to no avail.
Finally, old Ben Milam stepped forward, and when he did so, the men immediately fell silent. They all knew Ben, and they respected him uniformly. Ben stood stolidly for a moment surveying the crowd. There were at least two hundred men assembled, and it appeared that every single one of them was spoiling to fire his weapon off at anything that moved.
“Men, listen up,” Ben began, and without so much as another word of explanation, he inquired, “Who will go with old Ben Milam into Bexar?”
Suddenly, the entire volunteer army erupted in a great cheer. Everyone was whooping, clapping and whacking each other on the back, and raising their rifles in the air. And for the first time, Hank knew why he had come to San Antonio.
General Burleson had no choice but to let them go to it, and off went the volunteer army into San Antonio. Hank didn’t even know what day it was. He found out later it was the 5th of December. And in the tumult, he completely forgot about Hawk.
The actual doing of it turned out to be a lot less exciting than it had started. An hour later Hank followed his company through the fields and they raced right into the city, completely untouched. The Mexican Army had left whole stretches of their defenses unprotected. Somebody said that the command staff had been surveying the defenses, that they had been ordered to attack at this particular point for that very reason.
That of course made Hank think of Hawk. He’d completely forgotten about him! Perhaps Hawk’s nightly reconnoitering hadn’t been a lie after all. Maybe Hawk had even been responsible for Hank’s company pushing right into the city without a single shot fired. Well, no sense in worrying about Hawk now. Hank suspected that of all the men in this army, Hawk was the one man most likely to be able to fend for himself.
Once inside the city, things rapidly turned ugly. Hank’s company got pinned down almost immediately. And despite the time of year, it grew blazing hot. They had no provisions, and they were stuck in some stinking little room on the edge of the city. Every time someone tried to poke their head out of the doorway, an enemy soldier fired off a musket shot. Most of the time they missed - their weapons were really terrible – but every once in a while one of Hank’s buddies got shot. This was easily the worst fighting he’d experienced thus far in the whole war, and since Hank had no intention of getting himself killed, he kept his head down, stayed under cover, and let his company commander do his job.
The day dragged on. From the interior of the house, some locals brought food and water. Eventually they managed to move down the block three houses before they were pinned down yet again. And so it went. It was terrifying and interminable for Hank. He had no idea where they were, where they were going, and what the plan was. He simply focused on surviving from moment to moment, and he napped as best he could when there was a lull in the shooting.
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the sun went down, and it began to grow dark. Darkness had the effect of a sedative – both sides seeming to understand the futility of attempting to fight with no idea where the enemy was, thereby necessitating a halt to the fighting for the night. Once again, locals appeared who gave the Texians some sustenance and water. Exhausted, the entire army on both sides slipped into a fitful night of rest.
Bexar City Jail
Having heard the gunfire from the very start, Hawk knew exactly what it signaled. The main thing that concerned him was that the Texian Army might not be aware of his capture. Accordingly, he had to take care that they didn’t mistake him for the enemy. As to the possibility of his jailers harming him, that was clearly out of the question. Having had more important things to do than to look after a single prisoner, they had vacated the jail as soon as the fighting had started.
Hawk henceforth concerned himself with finding a means of escape. He spent several hours attempting to dig a hole in the stone reinforcement, but he was unsuccessful. By the time darkness fell, he was tired, hungry, and thirsty. As he was in dire need of sleep, it took no time at all for him to drift into dreamless slumber.
He was awakened by the voice of Antonia, who cooed softly, “Hawk! Wake up! Hawk!”
Hawk arose immediately, exclaiming doubtfully, “Antonia! What are you doing here?”
“I’m here to get you out, you idiot!” she responded breathlessly. She was clearly flustered and, seemingly searching for something in the darkness, she said, “I can’t find the key to your cell.”
A voice from behind her inquired, “Is this what you’re searching for?” and it was Francisco.
“You!” she exclaimed, “I know you! You come to the cantina almost every night. What are you doing here, Señor?”
Hawk recognized him, too. He appeared to be harmless, but under the circumstances, Hawk couldn’t afford to be presumptuous.
“Here, Señora, here is the key. Take it, and set your hombre free,” and so saying, he handed the key to Antonia.
Antonia stared at him quizzically, as if unable to believe this stunning turn of events in her favor. “Are you sure, Señor? You promise not to hurt the Halcón if I set him free? If I do so, he will fly away, I assure you.”
“Promise that you will not allow him to hurt me, and I will promise the same in return, Señora.”
“I promise,” Antonia responded, and so saying, she reached for the proffered key. She immediately opened the cell and released Hawk. The two began to beat a hasty retreat but, turning back, she hurried back to Francisco and asked, “What is your name, Señor?”
As if he were standing before Santa Anna himself, Francisco pulled himself to his full height and announced proudly, “Señora, I am Private Francisco Ernesto de la Garza, at your service.”
Antonia kissed him on the check and murmured softly, “Well, Francisco, we owe you. I will not forget this kindness, I promise.”
Offended by her maternal kiss, Francisco frowned and exclaimed petulantly, “Señora, you are a spy!”
“Shhhh,” she whispered, “We do not speak of such things. Adios, my little Francisco. May we meet again. You have my eternal gratitude,” and with that she rushed from the jail.
Once outside, Antonia guided Hawk to a place of safety. “Now Señor Halcón, there is fighting all over the city, as you can tell from the sounds. Several parts of the city are held by the enemy forces, but other parts are held by the Texians. We must be careful to avoid falling into the wrong hands. As I am a mujer, and a Tejano at that, I am much safer on the streets than are you. If you will wait here for a few minutes, I will find out where we may go to find safety.”
“Si, Señora,” Hawk replied.
Antonia returned in a very short time, whispering, “Halcón, we are indeed in luck. The Texians are in control just two blocks from here. I have informed them that you are coming. You must go now.”
“Are you not coming, Señora?”
“No, I must see to Teresa. You
understand.”
“Yes, yes, of course.” Hawk responded. “Antonia,” he continued.
“Yes,” she said. “What, Hawk?”
“I am in your debt.”
“I have your promise regarding my child, Señor Halcón, and that cancels any debt.”
Hawk made a halfhearted attempt to hug her, but she pulled away. “There is no time for that now.”
“Yes, of course,” he responded hastily. But she was already trotting down the alleyway, leading him to his freedom.
By the following morning Hawk was back with his company.
Within the City – The Following Morning
On seeing him, Hank exploded, “Where in tarnation have you been, Hawk?”
Grinning sheepishly, Hawk Shot back, “Well, good morning to you, too, Private MacElrae!”
“Don’t evade the question, damn it,” Hank ordered fretfully.
“Did myself a bit of whoring, I confess,” Hawk replied, still grinning.
Visibly calming, Hank submitted, “If that were true, you wouldn’t have come back, I’m thinkin’.”
“Alright, if you must know, I got captured. It’s going to be all over The Volunteer Army of Texas by dark anyway, I expect,” Hawk replied affably.
“Fine, that’s just real fine, Hawk. We’re here, trapped in this here stinkin’ little town, crawling from house to house, gettin’ shot at from every possible angle you could think of, and you’re off consortin’ with the enemy. How’s the food? They got anything hot to eat over there?”
At this Hawk guffawed uncontrollably. This was the Hank he knew and loved. “Well, now that you mention it, I did in fact partake of some real fine food – couple of enchiladas, and some mescal. I was a real empresario to those soldiers, so they took me to a cantina show last night. Great party!”
“Spare me your sarcasm,” Hank responded gruffly, “We got ourselves in a fix here, and I don’t need any distractions at this very moment. I’m fightin’ a major war, sir.”
“I hear you, son,” Hawk responded and, his visage suddenly laced with genuine solemnity, he added, “Let’s get at it,” and that is exactly what they did.
Later that Day
Hawk was at long last completely within his element. This was the first real fighting he’d done in some time. He’d had some skirmishes with Indians back in Tennessee and Kentucky, but he was forced to admit to himself that he hadn’t actually been in a military fight since the War of 1812, and that had been a long time ago indeed.
Here he was, slowly working his way down Portero Street with a passel of volunteers. He could feel his heart pounding with the excitement and fear of the battle. Several men had already been struck trying to rush forward too quickly. Hawk was seasoned with this sort of engagement but, fearing that Hank was not, he made sure that he kept ahead of Hank, protecting him like a son. He had developed a great deal of affection for the youngster. Heck, he wasn’t so young in reality - he just seemed that way to Hawk.
As he thought on this reality, two rifle shots rang out close by. One of the Texians in the jacal they were occupying went down, wounded in the shoulder. Some of those enemy soldiers were good shots indeed, but to Hawk’s mind they weren’t a match for the Tennessee long rifles and the men handling them.
Conjuring up a way to keep Hank from getting shot, Hawk ordered him to reload for him and keep a rifle ready at all times. That kept Hank busy and under cover, and Hank didn’t seem to mind at all. He apparently didn’t relish the thought of getting shot any more than Hawk did. In the end, Hawk and Hank made up a skilled fighting machine that was not unnoticed by others within the army.
The going continued to be slow and painful. No sooner would the volunteers complete their sweep of one small area than the enemy would appear in another part of the maze of downtown Bexar. To make matters worse, the heat of the day was fetid within the houses, with ravenous flies fighting for the opportunity to buzz and bite whoever entered each enclosure.
Hawk surveyed the men in the room with him. Every one of them, including Hank, looked miserable. Hawk, on the other hand, felt like he was on a turkey shoot. In truth, he could think of nothing he’d rather be doing at this very moment.
As if on cue, Hank mumbled miserably, “You look like you’re actually enjoying this, you dang fool!”
A Few Days Later
The battle lasted five days, during which General Cos’ army slowly retreated entirely within the walls of the fortified Alamo mission. Ben Milam was killed on the third day of fighting.
The siege of Bexar had lasted fifty-seven days. About the only good thing that could be said by the time it had ended was that the weather had cooled into late fall. By most accounts the Mexican Army had lost more than 150 soldiers. The Texians lost only ten.
General Cos and his army were allowed safe conduct to the Rio Grande so long as they promised to refrain from taking up arms against the Texians ever again.
Inconceivably, San Antonio had been taken, and against all odds, the Texians had emerged victorious against superior forces. Word spread like wildfire through Texas of the great victory at Bexar. It seemed to one and all that the Texians were quite invincible.
South of San Antonio-Mid-December
Francisco was relieved to be on the road to Laredo. From there it was little more than a three day march to his home. Having never understood the reason for the campaign to begin with, he couldn’t care less for this army. More importantly, in his view no one was allowed to know what, when, how or why, and that had been the main reason he had freed the prisoner Halcón. Still, he was forced to admit to himself that he had also done it for the beautiful mujer, the Virgin Antonia.
Although he never ever wanted to return to San Antonio, he secretly hoped that he would one day see the Señora again. Pondering her ethereal beauty, he hummed to himself as the army marched southwards, a pastime that irritated his disheartened comrades in arms. As he did so the medallion of San Francisco swung rhythmically, in perfect time with the tune pulsating within his imagination.
San Antonio-Mid-December
Hawk could think of but one word to describe the scene in San Antonio – pandemonium. The entire town had burst into the grandest party he had ever seen in his entire life. Mescal appeared everywhere. Beer was as water. Food suddenly became plentiful. The Tejanos and Texians rejoiced as one. It was all just too wonderful.
Hawk went looking for Antonia at the first opportunity, locating her right where he would have expected - with Teresa at her small home.
Introducing Hawk to Teresa, Antonia announced lovingly, “Señor Halcón, this is my daughter Teresa,” and turning to her daughter, she explained, “This is Señor Halcón, my dear. I hope that you will treat him nicely. He is my amigo.”
“Hola, Señor Halcón,” Teresa mumbled timidly from the protecting folds of her mother’s dress, and in obvious confusion, she asked, “Can you fly, Señor? You do not look like a halcón.”
At this Antonia interjected maternally, “Oh, yes, of course. Señor Halcón has great powers.”
Her thumb planted within the corner of her mouth, Teresa asked shyly, “Can I see you fly now?”
“Now we must celebrate the great victory over the invaders,” Antonia volunteered, “There will be time to see our friend fly,” thereby relieving Hawk from the necessity to demonstrate the impossible.
Enhancing the familial atmosphere as the three strolled down the street to join the revelry, Teresa grabbed Hawk’s pants leg and tugged on it gently. Glancing down at the child in confusion, Hawk peered over his shoulder toward Antonia.
“She wants you to carry her,” Antonia explained matter-of-factly.
Caught completely off guard by this unanticipated scene of domesticity, Hawk queried, “Should I? I mean, may I? Don’t get me wrong – I’d like to. I’m just, well, a little unsure of myself.”
“I can see that!” Antonia replied and, giggling spontaneo
usly, she suggested, “Pick her up. She won’t bite, I promise.”
Hawk reached down and, sweeping Teresa up into his arms, he tossed her just a bit, at which the child emitted an enormous giggle.
“Mommy!” she said. “He is strong, very strong. I am sure he can fly!” at which Hawk hoisted her onto his shoulders, and off they went to join the celebration.
Moments Later
Splayed haphazardly upon the street, Hank lolled against the wall adjacent to one of Bexar’s many cantinas. He was on his third - no forth - shot of mescal. Heck, he wasn’t exactly sure himself. Truth was, he was but a single drink short of neither knowing nor caring whether he was alive or dead. For the moment, however, he retained just sufficient lucidity to be aware of his mortality, and what’s more, to be thankful that he was alive, unwounded, and on the winning side.
A huge throng, composed mostly of Texian volunteers, surged up and down the street, none taking the slightest notice of the obviously inebriated hulk before them.
“What a party,” he mumbled to himself. “I wish Julie could be here to see it.” He would have gone inside, but with this crowd, there was not the slightest possibility. Besides, he wasn’t sure he could even walk at the moment. Instead, he simply propped himself carelessly against the wall and, awaiting yet another drink to be thrust into his hands by some passerby, he woozily discerned from recent experience that it oughtn’t to be a lengthy wait.
Glancing up and down the street, he studied the crowd intently. And, just as he had expected all along, there was good old Hawk, coming right down the street. What was entirely unanticipated was that he seemed to be carrying something on his shoulders. Unsure as to what exactly he was seeing before him, Hank screwed up his hands and, kneading his eyes, he attempted to clear the alcohol-induced cobwebs from his brain. Defying all comprehension - it was a child – a little girl, no less!
“Hell, I done passed out, and gone belly up to heaven,” Hank gurgled to himself, “Either that or the unthinkable has happened - Hawk Banks done become a father! Don’t that just beat all!” He leaned back, slipped over onto his back and, turning his face effortlessly skyward, he closed his eyes and smiled to himself in recognition of Hawk’s newfound good fortune.
Arriving at that moment with his new family, Hawk stumbled onto his friend Hank. Momentarily grinning down at Hank, Hawk sized up his state of lubrication at a single glance and, nudging him gingerly, he called down, “Hey there, Hank! Hank MacElrae, wake up, sir. I want you to meet my friends!”
Hank opened his eyes and, smiling lugubriously up at Hawk, he inquired off-handedly, “Am I dreamin’ Hawk, or are you carryin’ the sweetest lookin’ little girl I done ever saw in my entire life, right up there on your shoulders?”
“You are in no way dreaming, I assure you. But you are three sheets to the wind drunk as a skunk who swallowed his own perfume,” Hawk volunteered.
Closing his eyes and nodding in response, Hank grinned with his whole body.
“What does it mean - three sheets to the wind?” Antonia asked.
“Sailor’s term,” Hawk replied gingerly, “Doesn’t really mean anything, just gibberish, but implying exceedingly drunk. Let’s get this poor hound dog out of here and get him returned to the world of the living, Antonia.”
“Is that within the realm of possibility?” she asked in all seriousness.
“Well, I should hope so, Señora. This here seemingly sorry excuse for a man is my best friend in this whole disgusting world. And that in itself makes him worth saving, but in case it doesn’t hit home with you, he’s a genuine hero of the Battle of Bexar!”
Consequently, off went the small entourage, Hawk half dragging Hank, and Antonia attempting to explain to Teresa what sort of affliction three sheets to the wind might be.
Hawk Banks - Founding Texas Page 12
