by J. T. Edson
Such was Smith’s reputation that nobody thought to question his report. Even those who had suspected what really happened, Ole Devil being one of them, realized that he had acted for the best and no harm was done. In fact, so successful was the ruse that the contretemps of the previous day had been forgotten, or at least ignored.
Having been taken into Corrinne’s confidence, without divulging the truth, Colonel Jules Dumoulin had convinced his regiment that there was no prospect of battle ensuing and that they would probably have a greater chance of seeing action when they arrived at Harrisburg. So they had been too busy making the final preparations for departure to find further opportunities to create friction with their Texian compatriots. xxviii
In accordance with his orders, Ole Devil had left early in the morning following the disturbed night. Once clear of San Felipe and satisfied that they were not being observed, he, Tommy and Dimmock had separated from Company ‘C’. They had not gone far in their usual attire.
Although Ole Devil had bowed to Mangrove Hallistead’s superior wisdom on the matter and had, in fact, never seriously contemplated that they should try to penetrate to the center of Santa Anna’s force disguised as Mexicans, he had known there would be little hope of achieving their purpose dressed in the uniform of the Texas Light Cavalry.
Having been involved in much fighting since the previous year’s successes, his regiment was well known to their foes. In his and Dimmock’s case, avoiding recognition had simply entailed changing into other, readily available, garments.
Unfortunately, Tommy Okasi’s features were certain to arouse curiosity no matter how he dressed. In consultation with Hallistead, he had produced a most satisfactory solution. With the aid of the entertainer and certain items obtained from the local pharmacist, he had concocted a very effective brown stain. xxix Ole Devil had been amazed by the change that was made by its application, by wearing a wig of long and lank black hair and by donning the appropriate clothing.
As Hallistead had observed, although lacking a ‘hawk’ nose, Tommy’s facial characteristics were closer to those of an Indian than a Mexican. The effect of the curious trait known as the ‘shovel incisor’—whereby the inner surfaces of the upper teeth were concave, as though scooped out—combined with the folds of the fleshy lids which gave his eyes their slanted aspect, made him look, after his skin had been tinted to a dark coppery bronze, passable as a member of the former ethnic group. The impression was increased by the wig, held back by a red headband, a multi-hued shirt, buckskin trousers and moccasins with knee high leggings.
While it might have been argued that the little Oriental’s daisho was unlike any known form of Indian armament, Ole Devil hoped to avoid close enough contact for questions to be asked about them. Tommy’s bow—which he was carrying unstrung through two loops attached to the left side skirt of his big brown gelding’s low horned, double girthed saddle—was almost double the length of the type used by red archers, but there was nothing noticeably different about the quiver of arrows hanging across his back so that the flights would be accessible to his right hand. Only the unique Japanese patterns of points on the shafts might have given a warning, but they were out of sight.
For their part, Ole Devil and Dimmock wore high crowned black Mexican sombreros with large and curly brims, buckskin shirts and trousers, the legs of the latter hanging outside their Hessian boots. Like Tommy, they had retained their own saddles and weapons. In that day and age, neither the arms on their belts nor the second pistol and saber suspended from the saddlehorns were so unusual as to arouse comment. An innovation that was fitted to each rig, although it had not yet come into general use in Texas, was a leather ‘boot’ to carry a rifle—its butt pointing to the rear for easy withdrawal on dismounting—strapped to the near side skirt. This effectively concealed the more unusual aspects of Ole Devil’s Browning Slide Repeating rifle. xxx Only one thing might have been seen that was out of the ordinary. On the rear of his waist belt was a leather pouch containing three loaded magazines for the latter weapon.
Traveling westward, the three young men had followed a route parallel to and just out of sight of that which had been taken during the withdrawal. They had kept a careful watch on the surrounding terrain, but had seen no sign of human life. The area they were traversing had been deserted by Texians and Chicanos. Nor did even the advance guard of the Mexican Army appear to have reached it. Guided by Dimmock, whose home was a few miles to the northwest, the trio had crossed the Colorado River the previous night and were continuing with their, as yet, abortive quest. At that moment, they were out in the open and making for the shelter offered by some woodland.
Glancing at the lieutenant, Ole Devil felt relieved by the change in his spirits. Despite the fact that he had accepted that the way in which the Creoles had been dealt with was to the benefit of everybody concerned, he had grown moody and uncommunicative. It was obvious that he still felt deeply disturbed by the thought that he had left some good friends behind when escaping from the massacre at Goliad, and was worried about how other people might regard his actions. For the first two days, he had been so preoccupied that Ole Devil had wondered if including him in the party had been such a sound idea after all. However, his comments suggested that he might be coming out of his depression.
‘I’ve another saying, just as ancient and wise,’ Tommy said, in an almost matter of fact tone, but stiffening slightly and swinging his gaze to a large grove of post oak trees something over a quarter of a mile to the south. ‘If a man speaks of evil, it comes to him.’
‘At least, it’s no worse than most of your ancient and wise sayings,’ Ole Devil declared, with no greater show of emotion, as he looked in the direction indicated by his smaller companion.
‘What do we do, run?’ asked Dimmock, duplicating the other two’s actions. ‘With a head start like this, they’ll never catch us.’
Studying the grove which had drawn their attention, Ole Devil silently conceded that the remark had merit and justification.
Several riders were emerging from the grove, going eastwards. All appeared to be well mounted and sat their horses with easy capability. Armed with pistols, knives and lances, they had on the charro clothing of vaqueros. However there was nothing to indicate whether they were friendly Chicanos or members of the Mexican Army. Vaqueros had left their haciendas to serve in the forces of both sides, and many who supported the Texians carried lances. Furthermore, there was a third alternative. They could be bandidos taking advantage of the present disturbed state of affairs to gather loot and plunder.
Only one thing was obvious. The score or so horsemen had not become aware of the trio’s presence before riding from the grove. Catching sight of Ole Devil and his companions, they seemed indecisive as to what line of action to pursue. In the forefront of the party was a tall, slender man on a magnificent palomino gelding. If the elegance of his clothing and the quantity of silver inlaid on his saddlery was any guide, he was not only the youngest but the most wealthy of them. Pointing at the three Texians, he turned and spoke excitedly to the stocky, older rider at his right side and received either a refusal or an objection to his proposal.
‘We’ll talk,’ Ole Devil decided, bringing his big black gelding to a halt. Keeping hold of the split ended reins in his left hand, he elevated it and its mate to shoulder level. ‘If they’ll let us, that is.’
There was nothing rash, or unconsidered, about the young captain’s decision. As always, he had studied the situation and planned in the light of his deductions. From what he had seen and deduced, he felt justified in taking the calculated risk.
Based on his observations of the riders’ appearances and behavior, every instinct Ole Devil possessed suggested that they were members of Santa Anna’s force. Their attire was not that of the Mexican Army’s regular cavalry, but many volunteer regiments had been recruited to help put down the rebellion. The behavior of the two men in the lead implied that they could belong to such a regiment. Frequently,
when the owner of a, hacienda allowed his son to take vaqueros for enlistment, he included an older employee to act as adviser and controller of the rest.
There were indications that the party were neither Chicanos raiding west of the Colorado River without having reported their intentions to Major General Samuel Houston, nor a gang of marauding bandidos. In either case, they would have been carrying at least some of their belongings with them. Apart from serapes, there was nothing strapped to the cantles of their saddles and the three pack horses which accompanied them were equally devoid of burdens. It would be a poor bunch of bandidos who had come so far without acquiring any loot, or a remarkably trusting group to have left their property in the care of the other members of their band.
Having such a good lead, the trio could almost certainly outrun the newcomers. However, Ole Devil saw there were disadvantages in making an escape. In warfare, as in nature, to flee was a sign of weakness which invited pursuit. If, as he believed, the party were Mexican soldiers, there might be more of the enemy in the vicinity. He and his companions could find themselves trapped between two or more groups. Assuming they were allowed to surrender, they would find it difficult to explain why they had felt it was necessary to flee from their ‘allies’; which they could pretend to be as they had the renegade’s passport. Even if they evaded capture, the district would be aroused and their task made that much more difficult.
So, having taken all these points into consideration, Ole Devil was hoping to avoid a long chase which—even if unsuccessful from the pursuers’ point of view—would tire the horses and warn the enemy that Texians were in the neighborhood. He believed that, given an opportunity, he could lull the Mexicans’ suspicions and provide a satisfactory explanation of his party’s presence.
When Ole Devil had visited General Houston’s headquarters to collect the document upon which the success of his assignment depended, he had discovered that there was an amendment to the scheme. Since he had been given his instructions, the General had contrived to have several notices printed on the Government’s official stationery. By displaying one of them and the passport he had taken from the dead renegade, the young Texian felt sure that he could avert any difficulties caused by the unfortunate meeting.
After the brief conversation, the youngest and wealthiest of the Mexicans yielded to the orders, or advice, of the leathery faced man by his side. Instead of increasing their pace so as to attack the trio, they continued to ride forward slowly. All but the youngster scanned the surrounding terrain warily. He had eyes only for the Texians and the disguised Oriental and his right hand rested on the hilt of the high quality rapier which was hanging at his left side.
‘Stay here and be ready to run,’ Ole Devil ordered, sotto voce, setting his mount into motion.
‘I hope he knows what he’s doing!’ Dimmock breathed, watching the captain riding towards the Mexicans.
‘Devil-san always knows what he’s doing,’ Tommy declared reassuringly.
‘Saludos, senores,’ Ole Devil greeted, signaling for the black to stop about thirty feet from the leading riders. He had been ready to turn and depart hurriedly at the first hostile gesture, but none was made. They too reined in their mounts and he continued in Spanish, ‘I have news of the greatest importance to deliver to His Excellency Presidente Antonio Lopez de Santa Anna. Can you direct me to him, please?’
While speaking, the Texian was watching the youngest of the riders rather than the older, tough and capable looking vaquero at his side. No rebellious Chicano of his age, class and inexperienced appearance could have avoided showing resentment and hatred at the mention of el Presidente’s abhorrent name. No such emotions came. There was only puzzlement over hearing such a pronouncement being uttered by an obvious Americano del Norte.
‘And what would a gringo want with the Presidente of Mexico?’ demanded the youngster, his accent that of a well bred Creole. xxxi
‘As I said,’ Ole Devil replied, feeling confident that his assessment of the party’s status was correct. ‘I have news of the greatest importance and urgency to deliver to him.’
‘And who might you be?’ the youngster challenged.
‘My name is Sidbourne Halford,’ Ole Devil introduced, lowering his right hand slowly to take the renegade’s passport from his shirt’s breast pocket and riding forward with it extended. ‘This will prove what I say.’
‘So you’re a renegade?’ the youngster sniffed, his attitude one of antipathy. He examined and returned the document.
‘I work for el Presidente, much to his satisfaction,’ Ole Devil replied, his voice taking on a note of indignation, as he replaced the passport in the pocket. ‘Whom have I the honor of addressing?’
‘Lieutenant Carlos Cataneda y Abamillo, of the Third Company, the Zacatecas Lancers,’ the youngster replied, impressed by the Americano’s air of haughty self assurance. It was well known that el Presidente employed a number of gringo renegades and some were said to be high in his favor. Such a man could make life unpleasant for a junior officer who offended or delayed him. ‘And what might this important news be?’
‘Something that His Excellency would not wish to be known by too many people,’ Ole Devil declared, detecting a timbre of uncertainty and worry under the apparently arrogant delivery of the question. Then, conveying the impression that he was magnanimous enough to grant a favor, he went on, ‘If you and your sergeant will come a short way with me, I can show you why I must reach His Excellency quickly.’
‘Very well,’ Abamillo consented, after glancing at and receiving a nod of confirmation from the hard-eyed vaquero.
Although the second man had not spoken, he had kept an unwinking gaze fixed on Ole Devil’s face throughout the conversation. The Texian doubted whether he was sufficiently well known to members of the Mexican Army to have been identified. Not only did the sombrero cover the horn-like tufts of hair, but he had not shaved since leaving San Felipe and was far from the trim, smart figure normally seen by the enemy. However, he was aware that the vaquero would be the one he must convince. To try and exclude the man from the disclosure would arouse his hostility, so he had been included in the invitation.
Accompanying the two Mexicans a few yards from the rest of their party, Ole Devil extracted the top sheet from the bundle of notices which were in his saddle pouch along with the original document. Passing it to Abamillo, he sat back on his saddle and, although apparently completely at ease, waited expectantly.
‘Madre de dios!’ the youngster ejaculated, reading the message printed in his native tongue. ‘Look at this, Hernandez!’
‘As I said, senor,’ Ole Devil remarked calmly, as the vaquero was taking the sheet ‘It is important news and His Excellency would not want something like that made public.’
‘Huh!’ Abamillo sniffed, but he looked decidedly uneasy and his voice lacked conviction as he continued, ‘Nobody would pay any attention to such a thing!’
‘Well, of course, you would know the feelings of the Army far better than I do,’ Ole Devil answered, the words expressing more than a hint of sarcasm. ‘In my opinion, the Texians’ offer is a threat to el Presidente’s life. Somebody who has lost a kinsman, or friend at the Alamo might consider getting paid so much money to kill him an attractive way of taking revenge.’
‘The gringo’s right, Don Carlos,’ the vaquero declared. He had concealed his feelings better than the youngster when he had read that the Government of the Republic of Texas would pay the sum of ten thousand pesos to ‘any member of the Mexican Army who executes the bloodthirsty tyrant and oppressor of the people, Presidente Antonio Lopez de Santa Anna’. ‘There are some who might be willing to try and collect such a large bounty.’
‘Where would the foreign land thieves get hold of so much money?’ Abamillo asked, being unwilling to admit before an Americano del Norte renegade, even one who apparently was loyal to el Presidente, that any Mexican would contemplate such base treachery.
‘They already have it,’ Ole Dev
il replied, confident that he had guessed correctly about which of the pair was the more dangerous. The vaquero’s contribution to the discussion might not have been great, but its outcome depended upon him rather than the youngster. ‘And, as they know the money will be worthless to them whether they win their independence, or are driven out of Texas, they consider it is being put to good use in the form of a reward.’
‘How do you know so much about their sentiments?’ Abamillo demanded, with the air of one who had sprung a trap.
‘It’s my duty to find out such things,’ Ole Devil countered, his attitude implying impatience and a belief that the conversation should be brought to an end so he could be on his way. ‘Now, senor, if you’ll be so good as to tell me where I can find His Excellency, I’ll get to him as quickly as possible.’
‘So you work for el Presidente?’ the youngster scoffed. ‘But you don’t know where to find him.’
‘Not exactly,’ Ole Devil agreed, throwing a look of resignation and warning at Hernandez. ‘I’ve been with the Texians’ Army since just before the start of the siege at the Alamo. So I’m not certain of exactly where His Excellency might be at the moment. I’ll find him all right, but I thought you could shorten the time it will take me.’
‘We’ll do better than just tell you,’ the vaquero promised, coming to the decision that Ole Devil had hoped for. ‘We’d better have six of our men take them to His Excellency, Don Carlos.’
