by J. T. Edson
‘Way I heard it,’ Bowie objected, ‘those fellers didn’t give him any choice but to fight.’
‘He started the one at the cantina?’ Travis insisted. ‘According to Sergeant Brill, he walked in and deliberately provoked those two men—’
‘If he did, he must have had a damned sight better reason than just wanting to get through to the bar,’ Bowie declared. ‘And, as far as I know, ‘nobody’s got around to letting him tell his side of it as yet’
Watching the two officers glowering at each other, Houston felt perturbed. He wondered if it would be wise to leave them together in San Antonio after the rest of the army had withdrawn to the east. Each in his own way was an excellent fighting man and a capable leader, but they had outlooks and natures which might prove to be incompatible. Their differences could easily damage the effectiveness with which they carried out their duty of defending the Alamo and, if possible, delaying Santa Anna for long enough to let Houston reorganize his forces ready to meet the Mexicans in battle.
‘Suppose we ask him now, gentlemen?’ Houston suggested, acting as peace-maker as he had had to do many times when there had been clashes of will or personalities between the leaders of his various regiments. ‘Will you ask him to come in, Jim?’
‘Sure,’ Bowie answered, coming to his feet and crossing the room.
Despite knowing that he had successfully completed a difficult and dangerous scouting mission, delivering much useful information about the Mexican army’s strength and progress, Ole Devil Hardin felt distinctly uneasy when Bowie opened the door of the study and passed on the General’s summons.
Colonel Travis had been anything but pleased by the discovery that Hardin and his cousin, Mannen Blaze, had become involved in a second brawl and had rendered more members of the Republic of Texas’ army unfit for duty. Nor had he been in any mood to listen to explanations, particularly when he had learned what had brought Tommy Okasi to the livery barn.; Instead, Travis had suggested icily that the cousins would be advised to pay greater attention to their military duties and should reserve any further inclination for fighting for use against the Mexicans. Accepting the comments without argument, and not permitting Blaze—who was seething with indignation over what he regarded as Travis’ unjust treatment—to speak up in his defense, Hardin had once again tidied himself up ready to report to Houston.
On Hardin’s arrival at headquarters, he had been told that the General could not see him straight away. A messenger had brought in dispatches of considerable importance which required Houston’s immediate attention. Before hurrying away, the General’s aide—a harassed-looking young captain—requested that Hardin should remain in the hall until he was sent for. Returning with Bowie and Travis, the aide had taken them into the office. Taking note of Travis’s cold scowl as he went by, Hardin could guess at the report which would be made regarding his activities. So he had misgivings when he was finally called in by Bowie.
Little of Hardin’s perturbation showed as he went by Bowie, into the room and came under the scrutiny of the two senior officers. However, he was not as composed as he forced himself to appear. In fact, by the time he came to a halt in front of the desk he felt downright ill-at-ease, even though he was managing to conceal it. Standing at a stiff military brace which Travis would probably have approved of under other circumstances, he looked straight ahead. For all that he was conscious of Houston studying his bruised left cheek and swollen top lip.
After what seemed to the young man to be a very long time, Houston said in flat tones which told little of his feelings. ‘I hear you’ve been in trouble this afternoon, Captain Hardin.’
‘Yes, sir,’ Hardin answered, allowing his gaze to drop to the speaker’s tanned and expressionless face.
‘On two occasions,’ Houston went on, still giving no indication of how he felt about such conduct.
‘Yes, sir,’ Hardin agreed.
‘Do you make a habit of picking fights?’ Houston inquired.
‘When it’s necessary, sir,’ Hardin replied respectfully.
‘And you considered that it was necessary this afternoon?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Why?’ Houston asked, glancing from Travis to Bowie who had returned and was standing alongside the straight-backed young man. ‘You’re at ease, captain.’
Relaxing slightly, Hardin explained how he had found the Chicano boy at the livery barn. Learning who had administered the beating and why, he had made his way to the cantina to investigate. Before going in, he had listened to the agitator answering questions and had taken notice of who was asking them.
Recognizing the threat to Houston’s military strategy, Hardin had decided to intervene. However, he had known that to attempt anything in his official capacity would avail him nothing. Enlisted men in the Republic of Texas’s army, being volunteers, were generally not so well disciplined that they would obey orders given by an officer who did not belong to their own respective regiments. What was more, his clan were known to be supporters of the General’s policies. So the agitator and his assistants would know why he was interfering and would have resisted his attempts which could have caused fighting to break out between the rest of the customers.
With those thoughts in mind, Hardin had formulated a plan which he had believed might serve his purpose. Identifying the Chicano boy’s assailants and making an accurate assessment of their natures, he had approached them in a manner that was calculated to make them angry. He had been gambling that the rest of the customers would prefer to watch a fight than to sit listening to the agitator talking.,
‘I’d heard that Bill Cord always made anybody who was spoiling for a fight take it outside,’ Hardin concluded. ‘And I figured that when he did, pretty near the whole of the crowd would follow us.’
There was a brief silence as the young man came to the end of his explanation. All the time he was talking, he was also watching the General. Not that the scrutiny had produced any result Houston’s leathery features had remained as impassive as if he had been one of the Cherokee Indians with whom he had lived for several years. However, Hardin had heard Bowie grunt appreciatively on two occasions and figured that there was at least one person in the room on his side. He had not attempted to look at Travis. Nor had he heard anything to indicate how the bow-necked colonel was responding to his story.
‘You figured it right,’ Bowie declared in a hearty and satisfied voice, turning his gaze to Travis. ‘And I reckon we can be thankful that you did.’ Then, seeing that the comment was puzzling Hardin, he continued, ‘The other boy’s daddy came to tell us what they’d heard, Devil, which’s why Colonel Travis and I were headed for the cantina. Had an idea it might be as well to get the fellers out and away, only I reckoned we could have trouble in getting them to leave; especially the ones who weren’t in our regiments and had been drinking. You getting them outside that way helped us do it, wouldn’t you say, Colonel Travis?’
‘It helped us,’ Travis conceded almost grudgingly. ‘But there was still the second fight.’
‘There was no way we could have avoided it, sir,’ Hardin stated politely. ‘They were the agitator’s men, the ones who’d helped him get the conversation going the way he wanted at the cantina. I recognized two of them and figured they weren’t exactly coming to thank me.’
‘What happened, Devil?’ Bowie inquired, determined that the young man should be completely exonerated and that Travis should admit he was wrong.
‘They pretended to think they’d caught us robbing the barn,’ Hardin replied. ‘Then the one who looked like an undertaker threw down on us with a pistol and made us shed our weapons—’
‘You let them disarm you, knowing what they were going to do?’ Travis asked.
‘I thought that it was for the best, sir,’ Hardin answered, without showing any resentment over the interruption. ‘Way we’d been acting, particularly cousin Mannen, they didn’t have any notion that we knew who they really were and putting off our weapons clinc
hed it. They were sure that we didn’t suspect them. We were gambling on them not wanting to do any shooting as it would bring folks to see what was happening when what they wanted was to work us over with their fists.’
‘There were still six of them against the two of you,’ Travis pointed out, but there was a subtle change in his voice and it had become slightly less critical. ‘I’d say they were very stiff odds, even without shooting.’
‘Yes, sir,’ Hardin conceded. ‘But we’d lulled their suspicions and, with Cousin Mannen acting scared, they were likely to be over confident. Besides—’
‘Go on,’ Houston prompted, having observed the change in Travis’ tone.
‘I’d seen Tommy Okasi coming, sir,’ Hardin obliged, wondering if he was winning the General over. There was nothing in his attitude to supply a clue, although Travis appeared to be softening a little. ‘He could tell there was something wrong, so he made sure they didn’t hear him until he was ready to let them. When he saw us dropping our weapons, he guessed what was going on and left his swords outside so that they would think he was harmless.’ Try as he might, Hardin could not restrain a faint smile over the thought of how Stone, having fallen into the little Oriental’s trap, was disillusioned. ‘Which they did and that evened the odds up considerably.’
‘There’s others have made the mistake of thinking that little feller is harmless and come to regret it,’ Bowie confirmed with a broad grin. ‘You’ve never seen anything like the way he can fight, Sam. Fact being, those yahoos are lucky they didn’t get hurt worse than they did.’
‘Is that all, Captain Hardin?’ Houston inquired, displaying no emotion at all. His face could have been a figure drawn upon a wooden fence.
‘Yes, sir,’ the young man replied, stiffening slightly as he realized that judgment would soon be upon him, ‘I apologize for the delay in reporting to you—’
‘Think nothing of it,’ the General boomed, and he smiled broadly. ‘I couldn’t have seen you straight away if you had come and it sure as Sam Hill wasn’t your fault that you got delayed.’ His eyes swung to the seated colonel and he went on, ‘He could have spent his time in worse ways, don’t you think, Bill?’
‘Well, sir,’ Travis answered, his sense of fair play having caused him to revise his opinion of Hardin so that he eyed the young man with approbation. ‘I don’t approve officers being involved in brawls with the enlisted men, but I’m satisfied that it was justified on this occasion.’
‘Thank you, sir,’ Hardin ejaculated, showing his delight at having received what was tantamount to an apology and an accolade.
‘You could have explained what started the fight when Colonel Travis questioned you outside the cantina, or at the barn,’ Houston pointed out ‘It would have avoided any misunderstanding about your motives.’
‘Yes, sir,’ Hardin admitted, but tactfully decided against saying that he doubted whether Travis would have listened to an explanation in either instance. Instead, he went on, ‘Like I said, the agitator had established his “right” to freedom of expression. So I figured that if he heard me explaining things to Colonel Travis after the fight, he might be able to use it against us. He could have said that one of your officers had picked on and hurt bad a couple of fellers rather than let him speak his piece. So I concluded it was better to keep quiet and explain in private.’
‘Not every young man would have seen it in that light,’ Houston praised.
‘I must admit that I misjudged you, captain,’ Travis declared, standing up. ‘The circumstances of our meeting led me to assume that you were a reckless, hotheaded troublemaker and finding you’d been in a second fight did nothing to change my opinion. I was wrong and I don’t mind admitting it. You may have taken some chances, but they were calculated risks and not made recklessly.’
‘Thank you, sir,’ Hardin answered and he could not entirely hide his relief as he saw Houston nodding in agreement. ‘Anyway, we came through it all right.’
‘Which’s more than can be said for that damned agitator’s men,’ Bowie remarked, showing his satisfaction over the way in which his protégé had been exonerated. ‘I don’t reckon he’ll be able to use any of them for a spell.’
‘He’s still around, sir,’ Hardin warned. ‘I could go—’
‘You could,’ Bowie grinned. ‘But you’re not going to. Don’t be a hawg, young Ole Devil, you’ve had your share of the fun. Leave us old timers have some.’ His eyes turned to the general and he went on, ‘If it’s all right with you, Sam, I’ll go and ask that feller if he’ll head back and tell Johnson that we’re happy with the way things are being run, but don’t take kindly to folks trying to enlist men who’re already serving.’
‘Do that, Jim,’ Houston confirmed, anger clouding his features for a moment. ‘Damn Johnson—’ Then the imperturbable mask returned and he looked at the other colonel. ‘I can’t see any objection to letting Captain Hardin take on the assignment, can you, Bill?’
‘Not any more, sir,’ Travis answered. ‘If there’s nothing further, I’ve duties which need my attention.’
‘Go to them, Bill,’ the General authorized. ‘If the rifles arrive in time, I’ll send some of them to you.’
‘Thank you, sir,’ Travis replied, although he, Houston and Bowie all realized that the Alamo Mission would most likely be under heavy siege before the weapons could reach it. He turned to the young man, whom he now regarded in a far more favorable light than when he had first entered the office, extending his right hand. ‘Good luck, Captain Hardin. I won’t advise you against getting involved in fights. Just keep on thinking before you do it.’
‘I will, sir,’ Hardin promised, shaking hands.
‘I’ll go too, Sam,’ Bowie drawled. ‘If that’s all right with you.’
‘Sure, Jim,’ the General confirmed. ‘Try to send that feller back to Johnson in one piece. I’d hate him to start thinking we’d got something against him and his men.’
‘I’ll do my level best,’ Bowie grinned, then offered his right hand to Hardin for a warm and friendly shake. ‘Good luck, young Ole Devil, in case I don’t see you again before you pull out. Could be you’ll need it before you’re through with the assignment.’
Watching the two colonels turning from the desk, his fingers still tingling from Bowie’s grip, Hardin wondered what kind of assignment he was to be given.
Chapter Five – A Very Delicate Situation
While waiting until James Bowie and William Barrett Travis had left his office, Major General Samuel Houston studied the tall young man who was standing at the other side of the desk. Watching Ole Devil Hardin, and thinking of the assignment which he was to be asked to carry out, the General liked what he saw.
That had not been the case when Hardin first entered the room. Seeing him then, the General had been inclined to accept Colonel Travis’s assessment of his character. However, as the interview had progressed, Houston had revised his opinion. Despite the way in which he had walked, with a free-striding, straight-backed confidence that came close to being a swagger, he was anything but a strutting, self-important and over-prideful hothead who relied upon family influence to carry him through any difficulties that he himself had created by his attitude and behavior. It was, the General had concluded, the beard and moustache more than anything which gave his Mephistophelian features an aspect of almost sinister arrogance.
On the other hand, Houston conceded that Hardin was no Hamlet filled with gloomy foreboding, misgivings or doubts when faced with the making of a decision. Behind the externals, there was a shrewd, capable reliability. As he had proved since his arrival in San Antonio and—if the report of his scouting mission was any criterion—on other occasions, when he found a situation which required immediate attention, he was willing to act upon his own initiative. What was more important, to Houston’s way of thinking, he was prepared to stand by the consequences of his actions.
The latter had been apparent as Hardin had been facing the inquiry into his conduct
that afternoon. While he had been somewhat perturbed on entering the office, he had hidden it very well. Yet, even though he had known he had acted for the best of reasons and had achieved his purpose under difficult and dangerous conditions, he had not tried to carry off the affair with a high hand. Nor had he counted upon his not unimportant family connections with Houston or Bowie to gain him automatic absolution. Instead, showing no resentment towards Travis’s hostile attitude, he had explained his reasons with a polite modesty which had commanded the General’s respect.
Summing up his impressions, Houston decided that young Ole Devil Hardin was brave without being foolhardy. He could think not only for the present but also for the future. That had been proven by his reason for not having explained why he had been fighting in front of the cantina when by doing so he might have gained exculpation and Travis’s approbation. With such qualities, he would be the ideal man for the important mission.
What was more, the General felt sure that Hardin—provided he survived—could become a figure of considerable importance and a guiding hand in the affairs of Texas, whether it became an independent republic or one of the United States of America.
‘Sit down, Captain,’ Houston drawled, as the door closed. He pushed the humidor across the desk after raising its lid. ‘Help yourself to a smoke.’
‘Thank you, sir,’ Hardin replied, taking the chair which Travis had occupied and helping himself to a cigar. Then he winced a little and gave his right side a gentle rub.
‘Are you all right, boy?’ Houston inquired solicitously and his concern was only partly motivated by the possibility of the younger man being unable to carry out the mission.
‘Just a mite sore, sir,’ Hardin replied with a wry grin.
‘Would you like a drink to soothe it away?’ Houston asked. His face took on an appreciative expression and he stamped on the floor. ‘Don Sebastian keeps a good cellar and he’s given me the use of it. I’ll soon have something brought up if you’re so minded.’
