by Drew McGunn
COMANCHE MOON FALLING
Book 2 of the Lone Star Reloaded Series
A tale of alternative history
By Drew McGunn
All rights reserved
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s overactive imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, or locales is coincidental. Fictional characters are entirely fictional and any resemblance among the fictional characters to any person living or dead is coincidental. Historical figures in the book are portrayed on a fictional basis and any actions or inactions on their part that diverge from actual history are for story purposes only.
Copyright © 2017 by Drew McGunn
All Rights Reserved. No part of this this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recordings, or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publisher and copyright holder. Permission may be sought by contacting the author at [email protected]
Newsletter Sign Up/Website address:
https://drewmcgunn.wixsite.com/website
V1
Table of Contents
The Story So Far
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Epilogue
About the Author
The Story So Far
SSGT Will Travers couldn’t have imagined how wrong a routine supply run could go, as he counted down the days until his National Guard unit would rotate back stateside. That is, until an explosion overturned his Humvee and propelled him through space and time.
When he woke, he was trapped in the body of William Barret Travis, with only a few weeks to go before his fateful death at the Alamo in 1836. With no way to return to the present, and with no desire to become a martyr for Texas liberty, Will could have fled. He had nearly two centuries of history he could exploit. Instead of fleeing or dying at the Alamo, he chose to do the impossible. He rallied every Texian volunteer between the Rio Grande and San Antonio, and met Santa Anna at the Rio Grande where he stopped the dictator with the help of David Crockett, Jim Bowie, James Fannin and seven hundred more patriots.
As Santa Anna brought up his reserves, Will sent most of his men north, to build new defensive positions on the Nueces River. He stayed behind with David Crockett, Juan Seguin and a handful of brave riflemen and gallant Tejano cavalry. They fought a delaying action, leading the might of Santa Anna’s army into the jaws of the trap on the Nueces. The flower of Mexico died on the fields of South Texas, as Will led the Texian army to victory.
Victory over the Mexican dictator was only the first obstacle to overcome. Having won the war, Will was determined that he would win the peace. As a student of history, he knew that without a change in direction, Texas would implement a constitution that would trap thousands of slaves and freedmen in one of the most oppressive slave codes in the American South. Indians, like the Cherokee, who were trying to put the pieces of their society back together after President Jackson’s genocidal Indian Removal Act, would be driven out of Texas. Thousands of Tejanos, who had lived in Texas for generations, would be forced from their homes, as men like Robert Potter and James Collinsworth strove to make Texas a welcome place for Anglos only.
Will allied himself with David Crockett and Sam Houston to thwart the worst of the pro-slavery faction, and passed a constitution that gave the Cherokee a path to citizenship, and allowed for freedmen to remain in the Republic and for slave owners to free their slaves. For a man of the 21st century, it seemed too little, but it was a start.
The constitutional convention was still in session when an assassin attempted to kill Will. He killed his assassin, and David Crockett used the shock waves sent through the convention to elevate him to the rank of general.
With a promise from David Crockett that the hard-won gains wouldn’t be traded away, Will dives into transforming the army, but he has barely begun before the frontier erupts into violence as the Comanche ride out from the Comancheria, attacking Fort Parker on the edge of the Texian settlements.
Chapter 1
May 1836
Will Travers walked beneath scaffolding, where the construction on the Alamo’s north wall continued. Since the victory over Santa Anna’s army at the Nueces River earlier in the spring, the old mission turned fort had undergone several upgrades. A new, taller wall would replace part of the crumbling north wall, while a two-story barracks would complete its connection with the eastern wall.
Exiting the fort, Will saw two engineers talking to several Tejano laborers. Although too far away to hear, Green Jameson, a contract engineer with the army, gesticulated at a stack of adobe bricks, as he directed the laborers toward a section of the new wall.
Leaving the construction behind, the officer walking beside Will cleared his throat, “You know, General Travis, I’m glad you and your boys stopped Santa Anna down at the Nueces. I can’t imagine you’d have been able to hold out here for more than a couple of weeks, if it had come to a siege.”
It had taken time getting used to being called William Barret Travis, but Will was nothing if not a survivor. The last four months had proven that. He still wondered if it were a cosmic trick of fate, or the unseen hand of God, placing him and his memories in the body of William Barret Travis five weeks before the Alamo would have fallen. He shook his head at the thought, there was time enough later to get lost down that rabbit hole, and turned his attention to the officer at his side.
Lt. Colonel Albert Sidney Johnston had missed the battle at the Nueces, arriving in Texas the previous month. He had enlisted in the Texian army in San Antonio as soon as he arrived. When Will saw his name on the paymaster’s roll, it practically leapt off the page. As a student of Texas history, he recognized that Johnston would have eventually risen to command the Texian army and later go on to command the Army of the Tennessee in the Civil War in a world which ceased to exist when Will’s thoughts and mind were transferred into William B. Travis’ body. As commander of the Texian army, Will immediately promoted the Kentucky transplant to the rank of Lt. Colonel. Which was how the two men came to be standing on the prairie, north of the Alamo, watching a company of infantry as they drilled.
“At West Point, we studied plenty of tactics, from Napoleon’s command of the battlefield with his artillery, to Wellington’s counter tactics, and even the tactics used by the red Indians on our frontier, but the use of marksmen tied to several reloaders wasn’t something we considered,” Johnston said.
Will chuckled, “It was inspirational, I have to admit. Congressman Crockett came up with the idea, and as events have proven, it was very effective.”
They fell silent as they watched the infantry company. Some of the men wore gray militia jackets, while others wore blue US army jackets, while many more wore civilian clothing or buckskin hunting shirts. Despite the lack of uniformity, the men were deployed in a skirmish line, operating in teams of four. Will’s eyes landed on the nearest team. The four men were advancing on a straw dummy two hundred yards away. The soldier in the lead stopped and fired his rifle. While he stopped to reload, the fourth man on the team move
d ahead of the other three and took up the forward position, and fired at the target. The team continued advancing, moving the man at the rear to the front, always with at least one man with a loaded rifle.
Will noticed a thin smile crease Johnston’s face while watching the drill. “It’s not exactly orthodox.”
Johnston shook his head in response, “No, but we’re more likely to be fighting the Comanche than the Mexicans next and I wouldn’t want to face them with an empty gun in my hand.”
About to respond, Will had opened his mouth when, in the distance, he noticed a swirling dust cloud moving southward. He closed his mouth and watched the cloud materialize into a man on horseback, riding at a horse-killing speed toward the fort. The man, with long, graying hair flowing behind him, dressed in a tattered hunting jacket, saw the two officers standing outside of the scaffolding along the north wall. He raced his horse toward them. As the rider jerked the reins, his mount, heavily lathered from the brutal ride, slid to a stop. The rider cried out, “The Comanches! They’ve killed all the men and kidnapped the women and children!”
Will and the Lt. Colonel ran over to the horseman as he slid from his mount, standing unsteadily. He gasped, and said, “Water, please.”
One of the soldiers who had been drilling handed over his canteen. The rider drank greedily as the water he didn’t swallow ran down his brown hunting jacket. When he had slaked his thirst, he turned toward Will and said, “Sir, the Comanches, they have attacked Fort Parker, up on the Navasota River. They done killed John Parker and the rest of the men. They kidnapped a couple of our womenfolk and three of our children. Y’all are the army, so you gotta do something!” With that, he collapsed.
With the present drill disrupted by the rider’s arrival, Will detailed several soldiers to carry the survivor to the hospital building within the fort. From there, he sent for several officers currently at the Alamo. Later, in his office, Juan Seguin, as senior captain of cavalry and Deaf Smith, as captain of the Texas Rangers within the San Antonio district, joined Will and Lt. Colonel Johnston.
Will knew the Comanche wars were among the most destabilizing events during the brief life of the Republic of Texas, as he recalled from a history he was working hard to change. As the other officers shifted quietly, waiting for Will to start the meeting, he thought about how the Comanche wars lasted into the 1870s before the US government finally forced the remnants of the tribe onto reservations in Oklahoma. That was thirty-five years into a future he was intent on changing.
His thoughts drifted back to the recent constitutional convention in San Antonio and recalled he owed his appointment partially to a commitment to protect the frontier settlements. With that thought in the forefront of his mind, Will said, “We’re going to mount an expedition and follow the Comanche back into the Comancheria. We’re going to free the women and children they have captured and punish the Comanche.” He took a deep breath and continued, “It falls to the four of us to figure out how to accomplish that. What are your thoughts?”
Seguin spoke up, “General Travis, we can ride out with both our cavalry companies, and head north as soon as tomorrow, with eighty troopers.”
Deaf Smith nodded to Seguin, “I’ve got twenty-five Rangers here in San Antonio, who can leave tonight, and another company north of here. I figure we can take a total of fifty Rangers into Comancheria.”
Johnston looked between the other men, searching for the right words, “Well, General Travis, we have hundreds of infantry around San Antonio. It would take a few days, but I believe I can take three or four hundred men, if allowed time to prepare.”
“I’m not sure we have time for that, Colonel Johnston,” Will said cautiously, “We’ll likely be going thirty or more miles each day, which makes bringing the infantry difficult”
When he saw Johnston’s shoulders slump at the news, Will added, “But, someone needs to stay here in command of the army while I’m gone with Seguin and Smith here.”
Johnston smiled feebly and replied, “You can depend on it. I’ll keep up with training the infantry, sir.”
Will shook his head, “Oh, you can do more than that, Colonel. I want you to furlough every man who won’t follow orders or submit to the new training regimen. We’ve added hundreds of men to the army since we won our independence. I’d rather have fewer well-trained soldiers than an ill-disciplined mob.”
After the meeting broke up, Will sat, reviewing a list of invoices he needed to send to the provisional government for payment when Captain Seguin returned. With no one else present, the Tejano used Travis’ nickname, “Buck, I wanted to run something by you.”
“My family has contacts among the Lipan Apaches, south of here. One of their chiefs is an old warrior by the name of Flacco. He’s got a son, by the same name, a few years younger than us and he’s a damned fine scout. We could use a good scout, and I believe he’d be reliable.”
Will set one of the invoices to the side and said, “That’s a good idea, Juan. Get him here tomorrow before we leave.”
***
The next day, Will watched the mixed force of Texian cavalry and Rangers ride out through the Alamo’s gate. Deaf Smith’s Rangers were festooned with pistols, secured on saddles or belt holsters or frequently stuck in belts. Most carried rifles and a few, muskets. Among the Rangers, no two men dressed the same. Mostly they came from the southern United States, although there were a few who came from Europe or were raised on the haciendas of south Texas.
Seguin’s cavalry favored swords and knives, to accompany their pistols and shotguns. Half of his men were native Tejanos, while the rest, like the Rangers, came from the American South and Europe. While most of the men managed to find some sort of uniform, those included old US army, gray militia, and surplus Mexican jackets.
As the last of the horsemen rode out the gate, Will nudged his horse and followed behind. Once on the trail, heading north, he spurred his horse to a gallop, riding to the head of the column where Seguin rode with the Apache scout, Flacco.
The second evening on the trail was warm, as May prepared to give way to June. The mounted column forded the slow-moving Colorado River before setting camp for the evening near a small stockade on the northern bank of the river. From the stockade, Will saw a large man walk out, approaching the camp. Will hurried over, intercepting him. The other man looked him up and down before asking, “You in charge of these men?”
Will dipped his head in acknowledgement and offered his hand, “William Travis, at your service, sir.”
There was a glimmer of recognition when the other man heard his name. “I’m Jacob Harrell, and yonder stockade is my family’s place. What’s the general of the army and all these men doing up here on the Colorado?”
Will’s shoulders slumped a bit as he replied, “The Comanche are raiding again. We received word a couple of days ago about a large war band that attacked Fort Parker, up on the Navasota.”
Harrell’s eyes grew wide and he swore as he looked to the west, to the land of the Comancheria. “I hadn’t heard about it.” He looked back to Will and asked, “Well, if you’re going after them, the least I can do is let my wife know we got company. Will you join me and my family for dinner?”
“I think I can manage that, would you have room at your table for my captains, too?”
Harrell’s eyes held a twinkle, “Sure, if they don’t mind sharing a plate.”
Less than an hour later, Will and Captain Seguin sat at a large table with Jacob Harrell and his family. Deaf Smith passed, muttering about eating beans with his Rangers.
As Harrell’s wife, Mary, brought plates loaded with venison and beans to the table, he said, “We’ve been worried about the Comanche as of late. There are four families here along the Colorado, no more than were at the Parker fort. Apart from the threat from the damned redskins, this land is some of the best we’ve ever seen. Given time, a real town could develop here.”
While Seguin dug in and wolfed his food, Will set his spoon down on t
he wooden table with the realization that Harrell’s homestead was located in the bend of the Colorado River where the town of Austin would eventually grow. “I agree with you Mr. Harrell, and that’s why we’re headed north to put paid to the Comanche.”
When they finished eating, while Mary and several of the Harrell children cleaned the table, Will and Seguin joined Jacob in center of the small stockade, where their host lit a pipe and smoked, “I moved out here to Texas a few years ago, because as a poor dirt farmer in Tennessee, land enough to farm just wasn’t available, not at the prices I could afford. Texas has given me the opportunity to have something far beyond what I could have ever scrambled to have in Tennessee, and the opportunity to pass something significant on to my children. Push the Comanche back, General Travis, and give us settlers the breathing room we need, and we’ll build something here that’ll last.”
While listening, Will imagined the stately capitol building standing in the distance, and wide avenues filled with the commerce of the republic flowing through them, instead of the rolling plains and copses of live oak trees which filled his vision. As he recalled from his history, Austin was the project of Mirabeau Lamar, the second president in a republic which wouldn’t exist. It seemed Austin would need a new patron and he swore as he looked through the gate of the stockade toward the Colorado river, he would show Crockett the advantages of moving the government out here, away from the populated areas of East Texas.
He refocused on Harrell as the other man finished and said, “Whatever the cost, Mr. Harrell, the army will end the Comanche raids, so that others can find here in this part of the Republic the same opportunity you have.”
Six days after leaving the bend of the Colorado River, Will led his mixed command of Rangers and cavalry troopers into a broad meadow containing the burned remnants of Fort Parker, a few miles south of the headwaters of the Navasota River. The fort’s smoldering embers no longer sent tendrils of smoke into the sky. Apart from the skeleton of the fort, the only other sign of the massacre was a handful of burial mounds and their wooden markers.
