Comanche Moon Falling

by Drew McGunn

  Your humble servant,

  Samuel Colt

  The letter and package’s transit between Paterson, New Jersey and New Orleans, Louisiana, was fast, arriving in less than three weeks. But it languished in New Orleans several more weeks before one of the Republic of Texas’ small schooners docked in New Orleans for supplies. A week later, the letter and packet arrived in Galveston, and another two weeks passed before a wagon laden with supplies for the army arrived in San Antonio with it.

  Will opened and scanned the letter on the 20th of September, and then gazed lovingly at the blue finished barrels and ivory handles resting in the cherry wood case. He found Lt. Colonel Johnston and they went out to the firing range, located north of the Alamo. Like a giddy child on Christmas morn, eager to play with his new toy, Will charged both pistols’ cylinders with gunpowder and seated the lead balls on top of the powder. Finding a tin of percussion caps in the case he gently squeezed the caps onto the cylinders’ nipples. He handed one of the pistols to Johnston and then, with the other pistol, stepped up to the firing line.

  The target was thirty feet away and Will sighted down the gun, ignoring the lack of sights fixed on the barrel and squeezed the trigger. He smiled at the recoil and unloaded the other four rounds into the target. Johnston finished firing seconds after Will. He handed the gun back to Will, saying, “You can load it on Monday and fire all week, Buck! That was, dare I say it, fun.”

  After setting pistols back into the case, ready to be cleaned, he slapped Johnston on the back as they walked back to the fort. “Just wait until we get these guns into our Rangers hands, Sid. We’ll see about sending a message to the Comanche they won’t soon forget.”

  Chapter 3

  The referendum ratifying the constitution passed by a wide margin, and acting President Burnet, in accordance with the new law, set the presidential election for the 6th of September 1836. Will wasn’t surprised when Sam Houston and Stephen Austin threw their hats in the ring before the referendum. Henry Smith, a Kentucky transplant, who had been in Texas for nearly a decade, announced his candidacy immediately after the results of the referendum were known. David Crockett announced his own candidacy a few days later.

  The presidential election was a few weeks away, when Will took a leave of absence from command of the army in San Antonio, joining Crockett as he campaigned. This was how he found himself in Washington-on-the-Brazos with the Tennessean in mid-August. Despite his keen interest in Crockett’s presidential aspirations, on which he feared his command of the regular army rested, something else also brought Will to Washington. During the early days of the revolution, as a result of his divorce, Travis received custody of his son, Charlie, who was eight years old. Travis’ memories were of scant help to Will regarding the boy, as Travis had arrived in Texas back in 1831 when the boy was only three years old. Travis had spent only a day with the boy since the child’s arrival at the end of 1835, before Will’s mental invasion of Travis. Although it pained him, Will concluded Travis was an indifferent father, at the best of times.

  Travis had left Charlie with a family friend, David Ayres, almost nine months previous. Ayres was a Methodist missionary and ran a school in town. Will knew the right course of action was to visit the boy and ensure his wellbeing, but a large part of him wanted to leave things as they were and pretend Travis’ life before Will was of no consequence. But when he turned the question around, he knew if he were in the same situation as Charlie, it would be a hateful thing to be altogether abandoned by his father.

  When they arrived the previous evening, Will and Crockett made camp on the outskirts of the town. “Riding into town on a Saturday morning, while folks are in town from their farms gives a bigger platform, and you’ll see plenty of folks looking to be entertained by a politician on the stump.” Sometimes Will forgot Crockett was a political animal until the Tennessean glibly reminded him. “Especially if they know they’re going to hear the Lion of the West and the Hero of the Revolution.”

  Will grinned at his friend. Few men could verbally capitalize words as well as the Tennessean. “I look forward to hearing you spin a yarn or two. Once I track down Charlie, we’ll come find you.”

  Crockett grew serious as he reached across his horse, offering his hand, “Good luck with the boy, Buck. I can’t claim to have had the best of relationships with my own boys, so I understand a bit of what you’re feeling. Just look for the largest crowd, that’s where you’ll find me.” Will shook hands with Crockett and nudged his horse down the lane, leading to the Ayres homestead.

  The road which the homestead faced was more path than road, Will thought as he came upon the split-log cabin David Ayres and his family called home. Next to the cabin, was another split-log structure, most likely the school. Across the road, the missionary from Kentucky also operated a small general store. Will thought it likely between running a school and keeping a store, Ayres made ends meet.

  The oppressive heat of summer left the school empty. Will noticed the door swinging gently in the warm, morning breeze. On the porch of the Ayres log cabin he saw a slight boy sitting on a wooden bench, reading a book. The boy’s shock of red hair immediately reminded Will of his own. He was slight of build, just as Travis had been as a child. As the boy looked up and saw Will sitting on his horse, the look of uncertainty in the boy’s face removed any doubt in Will’s mind he was looking at Charlie, Travis’ son.

  Before this moment, Will had been unable to decide how he would handle this meeting. Travis’ memories were unhelpful, given the man’s emotional distance from his son. The look of uncertainty in the narrow face and sorrowful eyes broke his heart. When he dismounted and tied the reins to a tree branch, the boy set the book down and stood. As Will walked up the path leading to the Ayres’ cabin, the boy took a hesitant step forward, stopping on the edge of the porch. Will’s heart hurt seeing the fear and uncertainly writ large across the child’s face. He stopped a few feet shy of the porch, and Will faced the same uncertainty affecting Travis’ son. This boy wasn’t his own, but by some twist of fate, Will was the only father Charlie would ever know. Whatever choice he made next would define their relationship. He crossed the last few feet separating him from Charlie and pulled the slight boy into an embrace.

  Charlie flung his arms around the man he knew as his father. Will felt his cheek become wet as he felt the boy sobbing into his shoulder. The uncertainty returned, as the boy’s hurt poured out through his sobs. He had no idea how to comfort the child, but he patted the boy’s back and said, “There, there, Charlie. I’m here now, son.”

  The words came unbidden to his lips, but Will was amazed how quickly the sobbing was replaced by a smile and a hiccup as Charlie looked into his face and smiled, “I’ve missed you so much, Pa.”

  He set the boy back on the porch and tousled his red hair. The dam broke, and without really understanding it, Will felt as though he knew his part in this new relationship. “My, Charlie, you’ve grown a lot since I had to go off to war.”

  The boy pulled Will back to the bench, where he sat down again. From a hesitant start, when Will asked him about the trip from Alabama, Charlie opened up and told him about the trip westward as well as about life with the Ayres family over the past nine months. Will smiled as the boy prattled on. Like so many young boys before and since, once he started talking, he kept on.

  Eventually Charlie wound down and Will asked him if he’d like to go hear the famous Davy Crockett. The boy bounded off the bench, jumping with excitement. “Really, Pa? The Davy Crockett?”

  Will couldn’t help himself, and laughed at Charlie’s unbridled enthusiasm. “Yes. He may soon be President of Texas and he’s talking to folks at the town green.”

  After finding David Ayres at the store across the street, and thanking him for his hospitality, Will gave into Charlie’s infectious enthusiasm and allowed himself to be pulled out of the store, toward the town’s center.

  He and Charlie walked toward the green and found Crockett in ful
l politicking mode, speaking, “I also told them of the manner in which I had been knocked down and dragged out, and that I didn't consider it a fair fight any how they could fix it. I put the ingredients in the cup pretty strong I tell you, and I concluded my speech by telling them that I was done with politics for the present, and they might all go to hell, and I would go to Texas. And now I stand before the finest people that Almighty God has brought to this fair land, and ask that you join me and tell Andy Jackson that he can go to hell, and we’ll keep Texas!” The crowd, numbering several hundred men, women, and children, clapped and hollered their approval, as Crockett stepped down from the tree stump.

  He was swamped with supporters trying to shake his hand and introduce themselves. It reminded Will of a rock concert. Few politicians elicited the kind of reaction from a crowd as Crockett manufactured. Shaking his head while laughing, Will directed Charlie’s attention to Crockett, pointing him out to the boy, “There’s Davy Crockett, son. It appears he’s a bit busy politicking folks. You’ll get a chance to meet him later. He’ll be swinging by Mr. Ayres’ place this evening.”

  Hours later, Crockett showed up, gave a short speech on the steps of Ayres’ store to his greatly reduced audience, after which they returned to their homes and farms. With his hair plastered on his forehead, and sweat pouring down his face, Crockett ambled across the road, approaching the Ayres’ porch, where Will and Charlie had watched Crockett entertain his electorate. Charlie slid off the bench, watching in awe as Crockett moseyed up to the porch. Will nodded to Crockett, “Looks like you had a good time politicking folks around these here parts, Davy. Allow me to introduce Charles Edward Travis to you. Turns out he’s quite the scholar and has studiously followed all of your exploits in your book ‘Sketches and Eccentricities of Colonel David Crockett,’ which I’m sure you remember.”

  For a fleeting moment, Crockett looked like he had bitten into a lemon. He skillfully slid his smile back on his face and tousled the boy’s hair. “I hope you enjoyed reading the book, but those are just stories another writer wrote. Most of those stories are just tall tales meant to give a boy a couple of hours of reading. I think it may have worked here.”

  Dinner in the Ayres household was a chaotic affair. The meal was served as Mrs. Ayres and her daughters brought a steady flow of food to the dining table. Despite the table’s large size, it was crowded with David and his wife, Ann, their three children, Will, Crockett and Charlie as well as a couple of other children who lived with the family. David Ayres sat at the head of the table and after saying a lengthy grace over the plentiful food, engaged Crockett in conversation. In the middle of Ayres’ probing questions, several families stopped by to see the famous Davy Crockett. While Crockett deftly answered Ayres’ questions, he still managed to make the folks who stopped by feel welcome. Will tuned out the conversation when he recognized most of the Tennessean’s answers were part of his stump speech, which Will had nearly memorized by this time.

  He had been thinking how much better Ann Ayres’ cooking was than what he ate in the military, when his attention was brought back to the conversation upon hearing Ayres ask, “Congressman Crockett, what is your view on how the Republic should spend its money?”

  Crockett leaned back in his chair, eyed his empty plate, then pushed it away before replying, “Mr. Ayres, you’re a God-fearing man. Even if Buck here hadn’t told me about your Methodist persuasion, it’s clear by what I’ve seen this evening. I have no doubt your charity and liberality does you credit. I believe it to be a good and noble thing for you to give as you see fit to those charities that compel you to act. While we have the right, and perhaps a duty to give away as much of our own money to charity, I do not believe that right extends to Congress. As a member of Congress for six years, off and on, I don’t believe we have the right to appropriate a single dollar of the public’s money to charity.”

  Ayres looked surprised at the Tennessean, “Are you saying that Congress shouldn’t help the distressed people of our nation?”

  Crockett shook his head, “That ain’t exactly what I’m saying. No, but let me explain it by telling you about something that happened a few years back in Washington City. I was standing on the steps of the Capitol one evening with several other members of Congress when our attention was drawn to a great light over in Alexandria. It was evidently a large fire. So, we jumped into a hack and drove over as fast as that old horse would go. When we got there, I went to work, and as God is my witness, I never worked as hard in my life as I did there for several hours. But, in spite of all that could be done, many houses were burned, and many families made homeless. Some even had lost all but the clothes on their backs. Also, it was still winter, and it was very cold, and when I saw so many women and children suffering I felt something ought to be done for them. Everyone else was of a similar mind, so the next morning a bill was introduced, and we appropriated twenty thousand dollars for their relief. We put aside other pressing business of the nation and rushed it through as soon as we could. I reckon I should correct myself, here. I said that everyone felt the same way, and that twern’t completely correct. There were a few, who perhaps sympathized as deeply with those suffering women and children, but who did not think we had the right to indulge our sympathy or excite our charity at the expense of anybody but ourselves.

  “They opposed the bill, and upon its passage demanded the yeas and nays be recorded. There were not enough to force a rollcall vote, but many of us wanted our names to appear in favor of what we considered a praiseworthy measure, so we voted with them to sustain their measure. So, the yeas and nays were recorded, and my name appeared on the journals in favor of the bill.

  “Later, when I was politicking back in Tennessee I approached one of my more noteworthy constituents, a real bellwether in that area, and I asked him for his vote. He told me that he would not vote for me, telling me that I acted outside of the constitution. I was perplexed as I could recall no vote about the constitution. It was then he reminded me of that vote for twenty thousand dollars. I told him that I owned that vote, he had me there. I asked him why would anyone complain that a great and rich country as ours shouldn’t give the insignificant sum to relieve its suffering women and children. Especially when we have a full treasury. I told him that had he been there, he’d have done the same thing.”

  Crockett paused his tale, when Ann Ayres brought over a large blackberry pie to the table. After accepting a large slice, he continued, “Well my constituent told me that it’s not the amount of the money that he complained over. It was the principle. In the first place, the government ought to have in the Treasury not more than is enough for its legitimate purposes. But that wasn’t here nor there, as the real reason he was upset was because the power of collecting and disbursing money is the most dangerous power that can be entrusted to men, particularly under our system of collecting revenue by tariff, which reaches every man in the country, no matter how poor he may be, and the poorer he is, the more he pays in proportion to his means.

  “What is worse is that our tariffs press upon him without the knowledge of where the weight centers, for there is not a man in these United States who can ever guess how much he pays to the government. He told me that while I had contributed to relieve one, it was being drawn from thousands who are even worse off than the women and children of Alexandria. If Congress had the right to give to their needs, then we could have given twenty million dollars, rather than twenty thousand. If Congress has the right to give to one, then the right exists to give to all and he reminded me that the Constitution never defines charity nor stipulates the amount. That, my friend, Mr. Ayres, opens the paddock to give to any and everything which Congress decides is charity and in any amount they think is proper.

  “Can you imagine, Mr. Ayres, what a wide door this would open for fraud, corruption and favoritism, on one hand, and for robbing people on the other? He told me then and there that Congress has no right to hand out charity. Individual members may give as much of the
ir own money as they please, but they have no right to touch a dollar of the public money for charity. If one tenth of all of the houses in Tennessee had burned down, would Congress lift a finger to help? No. No member of Congress would have thought about appropriating money from the Treasury for relief.

  “There are two hundred forty members of Congress. If each showed sympathy for the plight of the destitute women and children of the fire by contributing only a week’s worth of pay, it would have provided more than thirteen thousand dollars. Also, there are plenty of wealthy men in Washington that could give up twenty thousand without depriving themselves of the luxuries of life.

  “He reminded me that the congressmen chose to keep their own money, which I can assure you, many spend frivolously while the folks in Washington City applaud them for removing from them the burden of their own charity, by giving what was not Congress’ right to give. The people have delegated to Congress, by the Constitution, the power to do certain things. To do these, it is authorized to collect and pay moneys, and for nothing else. Everything beyond this is usurpation, and a violation of the Constitution. Now I have given you," Crockett continued, "an imperfect account of what he said. So, you see, Mr. Ayers, it is a precedent fraught with danger to the country, for when Congress once begins to stretch its power beyond the limits of the Constitution, there is no limit to it, and no security for the people.”

  As Will listened, wrapped up in Crockett’s words, he realized how far the federal government which he had grown up with, had fallen away from the Constitution, promising people today the rewards of the fruits and labors of a future generation. It took Crockett addressing the issue eloquently with David Ayres to verbalize his own opinion.