by J. T. Edson
‘We’ll be grateful for a guide,’ Ole Devil declared, realizing that Hernandez was taking a sensible precaution no matter how unwelcome it might be to him. ‘But there’s no need for you to send so many men.’
‘It will make us feel better to know that you get there safely,’ Hernandez stated. ‘So they’re going with you—unless you’ve any objections.’
Chapter Nine – I Could Have Ruined Everything
‘It’s a pity that those damned foreign land thieves daren’t stop running away for long enough to give us a chance to get at them,’ the thickset, surly featured vaquero announced loudly to the other four enlisted men of the Zacatecas Lancers, throwing a provocative glance to where Corporal Moreno was standing talking with Ole Devil Hardin, Lieutenant Paul Dimmock and Tommy Okasi. ‘Then we’d soon make an end of them. But courage like that isn’t to be expected from gringos.’
Although the last thing Ole Devil had wanted was to be given an escort to make sure that he and his companions arrived at the main body of Presidente Antonio Lopez de Santa Anna’s Army, there had been no way he could avoid it. Sergeant Hernandez had been adamant and Lieutenant Carlos Mataneda y Abamillo had accepted his guidance in the matter. As it had clearly been a choice between accompanying the six vaqueros, or being taken prisoner and, in all probability, shot on the spot, the Texian had yielded to the first alternative.
Satisfied that he had taken precautions against possible trickery or treachery, Hernandez had asked for information about the country through which Ole Devil’s party had passed. Having a shrewd idea of the Mexicans’ purpose in the vicinity, the Texian had claimed there was a ranch house about ten miles to the northeast and, while its owners had fled with most of their belongings, there were a number of horses and a fair sized herd of cattle grazing nearby. It was, he had continued to Abamillo’s obvious interest, a well kept property which would be most suitable for a young man wishing to start a hacienda after the ‘foreign land thieves’ had been driven out of Texas. From the lieutenant’s comments, he intended to investigate the situation.
Having ensured that the majority of their captors would be kept out of the way, Ole Devil had also been successful in preventing a reduction in the size of his party. When Abamillo demanded that Tommy act as guide, Ole Devil had refused. He had pointed out that Santa Anna might want to make use of the little ‘Northern Creek Indian’s’ services and would want to know why they were not available. Knowing that many senior officers were looking out for desirable properties, Hernandez had not wanted that to happen and advised his superior accordingly.
Once the journey had been resumed, Ole Devil had turned his thoughts to ridding himself of the unwanted escort. He had dismissed the idea of merely trying to escape. Even if they had succeeded, it would have the same undesirable effect as if they had escaped at the first meeting. Furthermore, having lost their charges, the vaqueros would rejoin their companions. Hernandez was no fool and would realize they had been tricked. So he would waste no time in delivering a warning to el Presidente.
With escape ruled out, the Texian decided to employ trickery. He considered two items were in his favor.
Firstly, none of the escort knew the supposed reason for the trio being sent to Santa Anna. While Hernandez had returned the reward poster to Ole Devil, he had neither shown nor mentioned it to any of his men. So, as far as they were aware, they were doing no more than delivering a trio of renegades to report to el Presidente.
Secondly, the Texian had noticed the sullen reluctance of the men selected by the sergeant. So he had deduced that none of them were pleased to have been given such an assignment. That had become increasingly apparent the further they had gone from their superiors. While the five enlisted men had not resorted to actual abuse as they were riding along, it had been made very clear that they were turning their resentment towards Ole Devil and his companions. However, while the burly Corporal Moreno obviously shared the other vaqueros’ sentiments, he was a loud mouthed braggart who enjoyed the sound of his own voice. So Ole Devil had had no difficulty in persuading him to talk and had learned much that was of interest. The more he had heard, the greater had grown his confidence that they would be able to achieve a separation in a way which would prevent repercussions.
One important item had been that, for some unexplained reason, Santa Anna’s force was travelling some five miles south of the withdrawing Texians line of march, and had started to cross the Colorado River that morning. There was another piece of news which Ole Devil felt would be helpful to his plans for losing the escort. In spite of the colonists’ refusal to carry out Major General Samuel Houston’s ‘scorched earth’ policy, the large army of Mexicans were having great difficulty finding sufficient food to sustain them. With the exception of el Presidente and his staff, the whole column was on short rations. It was that point, even more than a natural truculence and an inborn antipathy towards any kind of foreigner, which was causing the escort’s bitterness.
Listening to Moreno’s boasting, Ole Devil had confirmed his suspicions about the status of the Zacatecas Lancers. They were a volunteer regiment only recently recruited from vaqueros employed on the haciendas of that State. Eager for action, they had arrived too late to participate in the siege at the Alamo Mission. Like the New Orleans’ Wildcats at San Felipe, they had soon become bored with inactivity and disillusioned by the passive role they were playing. Furthermore, they were not used to being as short of food as they had found themselves during the march to the east. Needing to quieten the growing disenchantment among his men and prevent wholesale desertion, their colonel had taken to sending out platoons on combined scouting, foraging and, if the opportunity presented itself, looting missions.
Now that their turn had finally come, with the prospect of at least two days away from the dreary routine of the uneventful pursuit, none of the six vaqueros relished the prospect of a premature return to the main body. A keen judge of human nature, Ole Devil was confident that he could persuade them there was no need to do so. Nothing he had seen of them led him to assume that they were sufficiently disciplined to stick rigidly to orders of which they disapproved. So he had decided to make his attempt when they reached the woodland that fringed the Colorado River and were resting their horses prior to crossing its cold and uninviting waters.
Using the skill which in later years would make him a capable diplomat, Ole Devil prepared his ground carefully. After expressing his loyalty to Santa Anna and disdain for the fleeing Texians, he hinted at a means by which the escort could rejoin the rest of their platoon instead of making the chilly swim and long ride to the main body. While suggesting that Moreno told Hernandez that they had turned over the gringos to a patrol they had met, he noticed the other five Mexicans talking quietly and furtively together. Then the surly looking vaquero, who had been the most vociferous in complaining about the assignment, made his provocative remark. There was no doubt that he had intended it should be heard by Ole Devil, Tommy and Dimmock.
‘You’re right about that, Orlando,’ agreed a thickset, scar-faced man, also eyeing the trio in a challenging fashion as he and his companions walked forward. ‘I’ve never met a gringo, or an Indian, who could fight worth a damn.’
Studying the approaching vaqueros, Ole Devil could tell that they were up to no good. Only two of them were carrying lances, but the remainder were fingering either the pistols thrust into or the knives sheathed on their belts.
One thing was obvious to the young captain.
If the quintet were bent on mischief and their behavior suggested that was very likely, Moreno was not the man to stop them. In fact, the way he stepped aside indicated that he had guessed their intentions and was prepared to give them his full support.
‘Look at that bunch down at Goliad,’ sneered one of the pair who had retained his lance instead of leaving it stuck in the ground. Tall, lean and dandified, he was the youngest of the vaqueros and was obviously determined to convince the others of his toughness. Swaggering ahe
ad of his companions, with the weapon held in the ‘high port’ position in front of him, he went on, ‘There were over four hundred of them and they gave up without firing a shot. Then on Palm Sunday, from what I heard, they went to their knees crying like women and begging Urrea’s men not to kill them. All except the ones who ran away and left the rest to—’
By sheer misfortune, from Ole Devil’s point of view, the speaker was directing the mocking words at the one member of his party who was most susceptible to such taunts.
‘You damned liar!’ Dimmock roared, springing forward.
Having spent the past eleven years in Texas and with Chicanos for companions, the lieutenant spoke their language even more fluently than his superior. Ole Devil had learned it from a Spanish sailor during a two years’ voyage on his father’s merchant ship. So Dimmock had been equally able to understand all that was being said. What was more, he had realized that his superior was trying to relieve them of the escort’s undesirable attendance. With that in mind, galling as it might be, he was prepared to allow the two older vaqueros’ comments to pass unchallenged. However, the dandy’s reference to the incidents at Goliad had proved more than he could swallow.
The lieutenant knew that a number of the men belonging to the ill-fated Fort Defiance contingent, himself included, had been willing to make a fight of it when the Tamaulipa Brigade had first come upon them. They were overruled by Colonel James Walker Fannin who had claimed that General José Urrea would be more inclined to show them mercy if no casualties were inflicted upon his force.
What was more, when the column of prisoners had been waylaid, they were being taken to what they were led to believe was freedom. As Dimmock had seen, those who survived the devastating volley of rifle fire from the woodland on either side of the trail had defended themselves as best they could. They had gone down fighting with bare hands against the bayonets of their infantry ambushers and the sabers of the cavalrymen who were supposed to be escorting and protecting them. The twenty-seven men who had escaped the slaughter had done so by battling their way clear at considerable risk to themselves.
The massacre had had a traumatic effect upon Dimmock. Nor had it been lessened by the unfounded hints from the young Creoles in San Felipe. Being selected to take part in such a potentially important and very dangerous mission, by a man for whom he had the greatest admiration, had done much to reassert his self respect. He had known that neither Ole Devil nor Tommy Okasi harbored the slightest doubts about his courage. Nor did they condemn him for having saved his life instead of dying with his comrades-in-arms.
Over the past two days, the lieutenant had almost lost the nagging sense of guilt which had been with him ever since his flight from the ambush. The dandy’s words had brought it flooding back again. Nor, in spite of realizing they had merely been uttered as a means merely of taunting a gringo, rather than an actual participant of the massacre, could he prevent himself from responding.
Moreno might not be the most intelligent of men, but he had been sufficiently knowing to deduce his subordinates’ intentions and realize that there could be unpleasant consequences to be faced later. So he had moved clear, meaning to let them deal with the unwanted trio. Then, if there should be repercussions because of the killing, he would be able to lay the blame on the five vaqueros.
Listening to Dimmock’s comment, the corporal began to understand what it implied. No renegade would have shown such fury and called young Antonio a liar over the remark.
Which suggested the three men were not what they claimed!
They must be spies for the foreign land thieves!
By the time Moreno had reached his conclusion, all hell was breaking loose.
For all his desire to impress his older and mature companions, the young dandy, Antonio, was so startled by the malevolent expression which had accompanied Dimmock’s furious denial that he came to an immediate halt. Before his mind could fully comprehend the implications of what had been said, the enraged Texian was upon him. Two hands clamped hold of the lance, wrenching it from his unresisting grasp. An instant later, its wooden shaft was smashed with considerable force into his face. Pain erupted through him, numbing his senses. Toppling backwards, he sat down spitting blood and a couple of shattered teeth from his mouth.
Sharing Moreno’s concern for what might happen when the matter was reported, the rest of the enlisted men had allowed Antonio to precede them. They hoped that he would succeed in goading the trio into some hostile gesture and so supply them with an excuse to take action. However, like him, none of them had anticipated such a rapid and violent result. So they were taken unawares and found that their troubles were only just commencing.
Instead of being caught unprepared, the would-be victims were reacting in a way which snowed they had anticipated the need to do so.
Even without being able to speak much Spanish, Tommy Okasi’s experience in dangerous situations had allowed him to draw the correct conclusions from the five vaqueros’ threatening behavior. He had already realized that his party could not hope to carry out their assignment as long as they had an escort of Mexicans. So he had been waiting to discover how his employer meant to deal with the problem. As a precaution, acting in a casual manner, he had raised his left hand to apparently scratch at his right shoulder hear the knot which connected the supporting straps of his quiver.
When Dimmock launched the attack upon the young dandy, the little Oriental had no further need to wait for instructions. He knew exactly what must be done and how to do it. Gripping the projecting tip of one strap, he tugged at it and the knot disintegrated fluidly.
‘Banzai!’ Tommy roared and, as the now liberated quiver fell from his shoulders, darted to meet the four advancing vaqueros.
As they were walking forward in Antonio’s wake, being much more knowledgeable on such matters, the quartet had formed a line and moved until a short distance separated one from another.
At the right of the rank, the second man to retain his lance began to turn its head forward. Next to him, Orlando—the surly faced instigator of the treacherous plot—was bringing a knife from its sheath with a speed which suggested considerable proficiency in its use. Nor was the scar-faced vaquero who was third in the line much slower and less adept in producing a similar weapon. Either because he lacked his companions’ ability, or preferred to do his fighting at more than arm’s length from his foes, the Mexican on the left started to tug the heavy caliber flintlock pistol from his belt.
In spite of carrying a firearm on his person, Corporal Moreno elected to fight with his knife. He knew that he could bring it into action with greater speed than the cumbersome handgun allowed. So he swept the spear pointed xxxii blade free and made Ole Devil his objective. Although he discovered that the Texian was turning and starting to arm himself, the burly non-com was not unduly perturbed on seeing which weapon was being chosen. He felt confident that his knife was much faster than any pistol.
Undeterred by considerations of the numerical odds being against him, Tommy once more displayed how effectively he could perform laijitsu and wield the tachi when it was drawn. There was one major difference from his demonstration to the two New Orleans’ Wildcats in the hollow at San Felipe.
Now the little Oriental was in deadly earnest!
Tommy was thinking and responding like that most deadly of fighting men, a Japanese samurai!
During the brief period in which he was advancing to striking distance, the small warrior watched the quartet registering their amazement at the speed with which his tachi was leaping from its bamboo sheath. He did not intend to allow them to recover from their consternation.
Acting almost too swiftly for the eye to follow, Tommy brought the tachi around as he was coming to a halt in front of the two center vaqueros. Apart from their lethal purpose, his movements had almost the symmetrical elegance of a classical ballet dancer. For all that, in passing, the razor sharp blade disemboweled Orlando. Then, before the intestines which had gushed from the
stricken man’s wound had reached the ground, the weapon reached the scar-faced man. It laid open his throat and came close to taking off his head.
To give the Mexican on the right credit, he recovered from his shock with commendable speed. While he was too slow to prevent his companions from being killed, he was determined to avenge them. Giving a snarl of rage, he lunged and thrust his lance in the little Oriental’s direction. Somewhat slower, the last of the quartet managed to liberate his pistol and began to draw back its hammer.
Accepting that there was no longer any hope of tricking the Mexicans into allowing his party to continue the journey unescorted, Ole Devil was just as ready for action as Tommy and equally capable of defending himself. Nor did he hesitate about the choice of weapon with which to do it. They were going to cross the river a good three miles north of the point at which Santa Anna’s force had gone over. According to Moreno, there were no other patrols in the vicinity. So he could use the pistol without the shot attracting unwanted attention. Provided, of course, that he could bring it into operation quickly enough.
For all his original rage, Dimmock did not allow it to blind him to the rest of what was going on. Remembering that his victim was only one of six enemies, he knew that the affair was far from ended. Seeing Tommy rushing to meet the four vaqueros, he realized where his help was most needed. Nor did the way in which the little Oriental dealt with Orlando and the man with the scar cause him to revise his opinion. Going by Antonio without a second glance, the lieutenant tried to decide which of the remaining pair required his attention most urgently. From the look of them, each was posing a threat to Tommy’s life.
While the corporal was drawing the knife, Ole Devil’s right hand turned palm outwards and closed around the butt of the Manton pistol. Being aware that the handgun was primarily a close quarters defensive weapon which could be kept readily available, he had devoted considerable thought to how he might best exploit such qualities. Employing a sequence of motions similar to those by which gun fighters in later years would perform the ‘high cavalry twist’ draw, xxxiii he extracted the barrel from its broad retaining strap on his belt.
