Comanche Moon Falling

by Drew McGunn

As he finished reading the article, Will was irritated over the method Salinas had used to avoid the risk of an acquittal from the town’s largely Hispanic population. He looked at his plate, where he saw he had been moving his eggs around. He let out a loud breath, realizing sometimes it was necessary to break an egg in order to make an omelet.

  Charlie, who was sitting across the table, asked, “Pa, what’s the matter?”

  Will looked up from the plate. “Nothing, son. Just reading the paper.”

  As the boy went back to polishing off a plate of biscuits and gravy, Will marveled at how much he had grown in the two years since he had brought his son home. The boy’s red hair matched nearly exactly his own, but the dusting of freckles on his face showed how much Charlie enjoyed playing outside.

  Pushing both the plate and newspaper aside, Will asked, “Will you be ready to start back to school next week?”

  Charlie shook his head. “No, sir. I ain’t got any paper or pens yet. Friar Jesus said we’re going to need lots of both.”

  Will smiled but said, “Ain’t? You mean, you don’t have any paper.” He smiled as he corrected the boy. “Let’s help Henrietta with the dishes and you and me will go find your supplies.”

  Charlie grinned slyly at his father. “You mean, you and I?”

  The boy left the table to retrieve his list as Will decided to finish breakfast. He pulled the plate towards him and then wiped the plate clean. As he sopped up the last of the bacon grease with a biscuit he thought about how much had changed in Texas since the transference. What would Texas look like to Charlie as an adult? Already, the country he now called home looked very little like the economic basket case he had known in a history which survived only in his memories.

  As he recalled, in 1838 in the world in which he remembered, the frontier was afire with raid and counterraid between the various Ranger companies and the Comanche. The population was still feeling the economic effects of the Runaway scrape, which had been a result of the fall of the Alamo and the Mexican army’s march eastward, which had only ended following Houston’s victory at San Jacinto. But those were just memories of a world gone forever. Now, Texas had a strong monetary policy, and a working currency backed by more than simple “good faith.” The Comanche had been forced north of the Red River. The twin stabilizers of peace with the Comanche and a stable currency, had led to a wave of settlers.

  While immigration remained steady from the Southern states, including slaves, Will noticed there had been an increase in immigration from the Northern states and Europe because of Texas’ increased stability.

  As he heard Charlie’s footsteps returning, Will hoped the changes he was helping to make would lead to a better future. He handed his plate back to Henrietta and as she took it, he renewed a vow, he would continue doing whatever was within his power to end the blight of slavery. He grabbed his uniform jacket and met Charlie at the door.

  A little while later, the two found themselves in one of several general stores on Alameda Street. They gave a sheet of paper to the clerk behind the counter and he collected the lengthy list. After tabulating the cost, the clerk said, “The bill comes out to four dollars and fifty cents.”

  From his jacket’s inside pocket, Will retrieved a leather wallet and fished a white and green bill from it. The clerk examined the bank note. Across the top, it read, “Commodities Certificate of the Republic of Texas. Five Dollars.”

  “Seeing more of these showing up every day, sir,” the clerk said. “Haven’t had any problems trading them for supplies from the coast, either.”

  “That’s music to my ears. I’d hate to think about what business would be like if we had to rely only on pesos or US silver.”

  The clerk had wrapped the supplies in brown paper, and handed the package over. “May it never be again.”

  Will and Charlie left the store and walked down the street toward San Antonio’s main plaza. New storefronts ran along both sides of the road. Charlie gasped as he saw a sign on one such store. “Bexar Confectionary Delights”

  The boy squealed, “Pa, can we go inside?”

  Will stopped, while the boy tugged on his hand. The last time he had been in a candy store had been several years earlier, long before the transfer into Travis’ body. He recalled the memory like it was yesterday. He and a girl he had been dating had finished their date on Galveston’s Strand. Along the street ran a gamut of touristy stores. But Will’s favorite was a candy shop on the corner of the Strand and 24th Street, where they served the best vanilla and chocolate floats on the island.

  Charlie’s tugging brought him back to the present and he let his son drag him into the candy shop. The countertop was covered with assorted glass jars full of rock candy. An older man behind the counter said, in a thick brogue, “How can I help you fine gentlemen on this wonderful summer’s day?”

  Charlie’s enthusiasm was infectious as he went down the counter, picking a few pieces of candy from one jar and more from another. When they had filled a paper bag full, Will said, “Let’s not run this fine establishment out of business.”

  When the bill was tabulated, Will wasn’t worried about the candy shop going out of business, as he handed over another five dollar note. He was tempted to grumble about the cost until the delicious sweetness hit his taste buds. As he and Charlie walked slowly back to the house, the candy gradually dissolved in his mouth. What had started out as a fun reminder of good memories, by the time they arrived back home, left Will missing all the conveniences the transference had stolen. As he sat at his work desk, he tried to push away the thoughts about the conveniences which he would never again experience. Eventually he succeeded, as he worked through a pile of correspondence, ignoring the small bag of candy on the desk.

  ***

  Fall of 1838 felt a lot like the summer of the same, as Will sat across from President Crockett. The door and windows were open, letting the languid breeze feebly stir the papers on the table in Crockett’s office.

  “As my latest report shows, David, Ben is doing exactly what he set out to do. He’s peeled ten companies away from Rusk’s militia and has been training them to the new army standards.”

  Crockett wiped a bead of sweat from his brow and asked, “How many men are we talking about, Buck?”

  “Around six hundred or so. It’s all infantry, and most of these companies are located in or around our towns. One of the companies is located in San Antonio, and two more are located here, in Harrisburg and Houston. Ben’s thinking is that these guard companies can be mobilized quicker than militia that’s spread over hundreds of square miles.”

  “That makes sense. Any luck getting more carbines from Harpers Ferry yet?”

  Will shook his head, “Not much. But our gunsmith we’ve been using here to repair and replace parts has actually been able to make a few dozen carbines. If we use the money Congress approved for the purchase of rifles to fund his expansion, it may fill the gap nicely. Plus, it plays to our own needs if we can develop our own manufacturing base.”

  Crockett looked surprised. “Damned if the thought had ever crossed my mind, Buck. By all means, use the money and give our gunsmith the contract.”

  As a hot gust of wind sent a few sheets of paper floating to the floor, Will retrieved them and asked, “What’s the latest on our request to replace our three schooners? My most recent reports say the Invincible and Brutus are still seaworthy, but the Liberty has been laid up in New Orleans, and isn’t worth repairing.”

  Crockett spread his hands, as though they reflected the emptiness of the treasury. “I agree. In principal, Congress is with you on this. I know this begs credence, but even Robert Potter has agreed with you about the need to purchase new steam powered schooners from the United States. The challenge is, it’s going to cost us upwards of three hundred sixty thousand dollars. As the budget situation now stands, it will probably take us three years to fully upgrade the navy. But with any luck, by the summer of 1840, we’ll have our new fleet.”

&nb
sp; Before Will could ask his next question, Crockett found an envelope he had been searching for on the cluttered table. He said, “Here it is. Been looking for that. I know what you’re about to ask. I was able to get Congress to agree to expand the army, too. But it’s going to take time. For the current budget year, they have agreed to expand the cavalry to three troops.”

  He handed the envelope to Will, who opened it and pulled out two shoulder boards, with embroidered golden oak-leafs denoting the rank of major. “Give those to Juan Seguin, Buck. He’s definitely earned them.”

  Will whistled appreciatively as he read the letter accompanying the insignia. “Forty-eight men per cavalry troop, and three troops. That should make defending the Nueces region a lot easier.”

  “It should. You’ll get your ninth and tenth infantry companies over the next two years. And an extra battery of artillery by 1840.”

  Will did the math in his head, “Aside from the Rangers, That’ll give us right at a thousand soldiers.” Another thought crossed his mind, “What’s that going to do to the budget?”

  Crockett’s laughter was tinged with bitterness. “Nothing good, that’s for sure. Michel nearly choked when Congress agreed to the expansion.”

  Will wondered how Michel Menard managed to keep paying the Republic’s bills, but the wily former Québécois seemed to balance the receipts and outlays like a master magician.

  Like a medium reading minds, Crockett said, “If it hadn’t been for you and Erasmo cooking up your commodities scheme, I fear we’d been passing along chits we had no intention of paying. But if if not for the Commodities Bureau, the land bank and the cotton-backs circulating throughout the country, we’d be in worse shape than we are.”

  As the day wore on, Will provided Crockett detailed numbers for the president to use in the next annual budget. The sun peeked through the westward facing window when Crockett threw a quill pen across the table. “Tarnation, Buck, I don’t see how you do it. If I see one more one or zero today, I’m going to bite its head off.”

  As Will collected the pen from the end of the table, Crockett stood and stretched. “Enough of this. Liza and Becky have been cooking up a meal and I know at least one of them would be sorely disappointed if you didn’t stay for dinner.”

  A warmth spread across Will’s face at the idea of seeing Becky again.

  After a lively dinner of pork and beans with the Crocketts, Will found himself sitting on the porch, next to Becky, as the last light from the western sky disappeared. The silence stretched on, until he broke it. “I’m really looking forward to the Christmas party next year, Miss Rebecca. I’d dearly love to have the first dance with you again.”

  “Damn! Damn! Damn!” Will thought, as he remembered how he managed to step on her toes throughout the dance.

  Will thought he saw a shadow of a smile play across her face. “That is too kind of you. I think we know each other better than to be calling each other ‘General’ and ‘Miss.’ Please call me Becky, Will.” She paused, recalling the tribulation her feet were subjected to at that party the previous year. “I think I would be perfectly happy to sit with you while the peacocks flap their wings across the dance floor.”

  While he was uncertain if he saw a smile cross her lips, his own split his face, as he placed his hand hesitantly and gently on hers, ready to retreat if she gave any hint at displeasure. His fingers tingled and sent goosebumps up his hand, when Becky responded by placing her other hand over his. She leaned against him and whispered, “I’m glad Pa came to Texas, and gladder still that Ma followed. I don’t want you to think I’m a forward girl by letting you take my hand, but I’m really glad you stayed for dinner, because I enjoy your company.”

  Will left his hand covering hers, her breathy words sending waves of pleasure along his skin. He hadn’t felt this way since college, and Becky’s closeness felt good. He tilted his head, until it rested against hers. “I’m really glad you came out here, too, Becky.” He turned and planted a kiss on her cheek. What had begun in his heart on the dance floor of the Christmas party last year came to completion as he sat next to the slender young woman. He whispered, “Will you be my girl, Becky?”

  She turned and despite the lack of light, Will saw her smile was writ large across her face. “Will, I’d do anything but dance with you.”

  Behind them, the sound of the door squeaked, and a voice said, “Now, that’s a pretty sight, wouldn’t you say, Liza?”

  Another softer voice replied, “Enough to melt my heart, David.”

  Within a second several inches materialized between Will and Becky as they turned and saw Crockett and his wife standing in the doorway. Will leapt to his feet, “Ah, David. We didn’t see you there.”

  Chuckling, Crockett said, “I’d rather figured that, Buck. Is there something you need to tell me and Becky’s mother?”

  Blushing furiously under the gaze of the elder Crocketts, Will stammered, “Well, um, I’d consider it a real honor if, I, ah, could call upon your daughter, sir.”

  Crockett’s chuckle slid into a belly laugh as the noise echoed into the night. “Oh, that’s rich. It’s always David this or David that. But now it’s sir. Buck, you beat all. Of course, you can call on my Becky, if she’s a mind to have you.”

  Will glanced back at Becky as she playfully slapped her father’s arm. “Oh, Pa, don’t raise a ruckus. It’s bad enough when the neighbors raise a din, we don’t need to compete with them. And, of course Will can call on me. I’d not let anyone else kiss me on the cheek like that with you and ma in the next room.”

  ***

  28th October 1838

  Dearest Will,

  I received your letter from 1st of the month, and was mighty glad to get it. I wish that they would hurry up and finish the move of the government to the new city of Austin. I was poor sorry to hear of Mr. Austin’s ship sinking when he was returning from Washington. Pa said he was a good man. It was only fitting the town should be named in his honor. Once we move, then I will be so much closer to you. Pa is always complaining about some congressman or senator, it is very funny. All of them are congresscritter this or that. You can scarce imagine how the town of Houston is growing, it has fair bumped up against Harrisburg, as to make one think both towns are but one. When we moved in with Pa, there were only a few other houses nearby. But now our nearest neighbor, we can hear when they’re having a row, and they fight all the time. Ma and me went shopping last week, and there are new stores with the latest fashion. I saw a pretty, pink dress all the way from Paris in one of the stores. It’s a caution! When you write me to me again, be sure to tell me what the ladies in San Antonio are wearing. I will wait eagerly for your next letter.

  Affectionately yours,

  Becky

  30th of November 1838

  My dearest Becky,

  Every letter I receive from you causes me to want to jump on my horse and ride to Harrisburg straightaway to see you. I was dismayed when I read about the sinking of the Brutus with all hands in that terrible storm. Stephen Austin faithfully served Texas as minister to the U. States. I have been told the surveyors are done surveying the new city, and within a year, the government will move there. Of course, the president may conspire to keep me in the field, lest he lose his girl to the wiles of a frontier officer. It is funny, Texas is independent of the U. States, and yet we celebrate Thanksgiving, just like our friends and family back east. As such, I received an invitation to a Thanksgiving celebration held by Juan Seguin’s sister and brother-in-law. The ladies were dressed in reds, and blues and yellows. When they twirled in their men’s arms, the dresses flared up, like spinning parasols. Charlie told me the dresses looked like spindle tops.

  Had I realized how much paperwork a general goes through I think I may have decided to become a simple cavalryman, with nothing to worry about. I will be taking Sid and Juan with me on a tour of our forts along the Rio Grande next month, and from there, we will travel to Galveston to inspect our forts there, and when I do,
I will make sure to come by Harrisburg to call upon you.

  Until then, I remain most affectionately yours,

  Will

  Chapter 17

  He folded up the latest edition of the Telegraph and Texas Register, scowling as he pushed it to the side of the table. Henrietta set a steaming plate of grits and honey on the table in front of Will. There was seldom a day that passed by in which he wasn’t grateful to have Henrietta taking care of him and Charlie. As he scooped up a spoonful of grits, his scowl faded as he savored the taste.

  “Yes, she is a far better cook than I will ever be,” he thought.

  “Eat ‘em up, Gen’ral. You ain’t gonna sit in my kitchen all Saturday.” Henrietta’s smile was infectious. Charlie was devouring a plate of biscuits and gravy, one of his favorite meals. A school textbook was set next to his plate, where he would pause between bites to turn a page. The only thing missing, in Will’s opinion was Becky. His planned trip down to the coast was coming up soon, and part of him wanted nothing more than to scrap it all and go immediately to her and ask her to marry him.

  Whenever his thoughts went to her, as they frequently did these days, it always made him long for Becky. So he tried setting the thought aside, as he heard Henrietta humming a tune behind him, as she began cleaning up a couple of pans. If there was a good place in Texas to be a former slave, San Antonio was probably it. While the influx of immigration was changing the demographics of the town, it was still majority Hispanic. In some respects, Tejano views on race were no less complicated than those held by the immigrants from the United States, but overall, they tended to treat freed blacks better than their white counterparts. It was true, rich Tejanos were nearly as likely to own slaves as their wealthy white neighbors. Erasmo Seguin was a case in point. Despite that, San Antonio, Will decided, was a better place to be a freedman than any other town in the Republic.

  Will had plans to change that, for the better, he hoped. The entire institution of slavery rankled him, and he was determined to find a way to rid the Republic of this scourge. He just needed to figure out ways to diminish it and unwind Texas’ involvement from the horrid institution.