Crockett of Tennessee

by Judd, Cameron

  David smiled, almost sadly. “Hearing you lay all that out reminds me how often I’ve tried to help you but never done you that much good. I’ve done my best many a time and failed. When my family took you in back in Greene County, I pleaded with my pap to make you part of the family, and it did no good—he sent you straight to the Orphan Court. And it was John Canaday, a lot more than me, who helped save your hide from Crider Cummings. As far as trying to help you escape from that army camp, you’ll recall it was my mouth that got you arrested to start with. And however hard Betsy tried to save your baby’s life, your baby died. Even in Washington, it was Campbell Ibbotson who really provided you the doctoring. When you line it all out, Persius … Ben, you see that me and mine ain’t really done that much for you at all. Maybe we tried, but trying don’t pay for the beans.”

  “It pays for a durn good lot with me. Ain’t no other man ever stood by me like you have, David. Let me join with you. Let me be your partner. We’ll get land. I’ll shake off this lung trouble of mine and get strong again. We’ll make a new start in Texas, both of us, and put the past behind. Persius Tarr and his sorry ways will be dead and gone, and Ben Breeding will be a man of measure. And you won’t be Crockett of Tennessee no more, but Crockett of Texas, a man who’ll stand tall and have every kind of success in whatever he tries. There is such a thing as fate, or destiny, or whatever you call it, and for me and you both, it lies right here in Texas.”

  David peered deeply at his old companion. Persius’s utter sincerity was clear to see in his face. Grinning, David shook his head admiringly. “Persius Tarr, I never heard so fine a stretch of speech-making in the very halls of Congress as what you’ve outed with today. You keep talking like that and you’ll wind up president of Mexico your own self!”

  “Not Persius Tarr—Ben Breeding. But Persius Tarr thanks you for the compliment.”

  David reached out his hand; Persius grasped and shook it.

  “Partners,” David said.

  “Partners,” Persius echoed. “Where to now, Crockett of Texas?”

  “Nacogdoches,” David replied. “We’re going to swear our allegiance to Texas, and get on toward making that new life you been preaching about.”

  Chapter 55

  Nacogdoches, Texas, January 1836

  From the beginning, Nacogdoches had attracted men from the shadowy borders of society—gamblers, thieves, confidence men, smugglers, absconded debtors, even murderers. Located within easy distance of the Louisiana border, it was the kind of town a man in trouble in the United States could flee to in a hurry when the homeland grew too dangerous. He could scurry to its gambling halls and saloons like a roach scurrying for cover in a rubbish pile.

  And David Crockett took an immediate liking to the place as soon as he rode into the dusty street. This was the kind of town in which a gent could carouse and enjoy himself, with no one looking for him to set a shining example of excellent behavior. A man’s kind of town, a wild, free sort of place.

  As he had neared Nacogdoches, David’s company had grown significantly. Not only was fiddle-toting “Ben Breeding” now part of his group, but several other would-be Texas volunteers as well, some of them, just like David, Tennesseans with an eye to a future in Texas. Word that one of the most famous sons of Tennessee, the famed Colonel Crockett, was making his way to Nacogdoches to put his name on the line as a Texas volunteer, had drawn them together, and plans were afoot for them to form themselves into a company of mounted volunteers under Crockett’s command, just as soon as the oath was signed.

  But oaths were better signed without the handicap of thirst, so the first order of business for Crockett and his companions was to visit one of the local saloons. They found an appropriately Mexican-looking dive on a side street, a stone building with thick beams holding up its ceiling, a massive stone hearth built on an elevated floor in the center of the single wide room, and big stone pillars here and there throughout the place, upon which candles stood in holders pegged right into the stone.

  They drank to the health of each other and the future of Texas, and then David turned to make one more toast: To Lindsey Tinkle and Abner Burgin, whose Texas adventures were ending here. They would be heading back home again. The rough-cut group drank their health and wished them safe travel, then returned to their “whistle-wetting” with enthusiasm. Spirits were high; at the moment, the little group of men felt that if necessary, they could whip the entire army of the hated Antonio Lopez de Santa Anna all by themselves.

  When they had drunk their fill, David wiped a sleeve across his mouth, walked toward the door and picked up his rifle, which he had leaned there upon entry. Raising it above his head, he said, “Men, let’s go pledge ourselves to the cause of Texas!”

  With a yell of assent, the company surged to the street, mounted their horses, and with whoops and shouts made their way to the office of Judge John Forbes, led by those of the group who had been awaiting David Crockett’s arrival before going through the oath ceremony.

  Forbes greeted the group with calm dignity. Though they looked like nothing more than a horde of criminals, dirty from the trail and smelling of freshly consumed liquor, Forbes did not blink. His time in Nacogdoches had accustomed him to dealing with what might be called interesting folk. Texas had such in abundance, with more swarming in by the day. And in Texas, appearances were deceiving. For all Forbes knew, some of the ill-smelling ruffians standing before him might be the most respectable of men in their home environs.

  When Forbes learned that the fox-skin-capped leader of this particular gaggle was none other than the celebrated Colonel David Crockett himself, he bowed respectfully and put out his hand to his famous visitor. “Colonel, I will write out the oath and present it to you and your men to sign. Texas is honored to have you as a visitor and supporter, and soon, we hope, as a citizen.”

  “I’m much appreciative,” David replied. “Now get that paper writ out—I’m eager to set my hand to it.”

  Forbes sat down and wrote out the following:

  I do solemnly swear that I will bear true allegiance to the Provisional Government of Texas or any future Government that may be hereafter declared, and that I will serve her honestly and faithfully against all her enemies and opposers whatsoever, and observe and obey the orders of the Governors of Texas, the orders and decrees of the present or future authorities and the orders of the officers appointed over me according to the rules and articles for the government of Texas. So help me God.

  “There you are, Colonel Crockett,” Forbes said. “This is the standard oath, and I’m sure it meets your approval.”

  David looked over the oath and handed it back to Forbes. “No sir, it does not.”

  Every eye turned to him. Forbes cleared his throat. “I beg your pardon, Colonel?”

  “That thing has me swearing to uphold any government that might arise in Texas. I won’t do that. What if some tyrant takes the place over? I wouldn’t support a Texas tyrant no more than I would support King Andrew back home. You change that to read republican government, there at that ‘any future government’ part, and I’ll sign.”

  Forbes smiled thinly. “You are a perceptive and deep-thinking man, Colonel Crockett. I haven’t had a man yet to raise that issue with me, and I confess that such a thought hasn’t come to my own mind until now. You are right, sir, and I’ll change the oath gladly.” He took up his pen again and inserted the word “republican” as Crockett had requested.

  “There you are, sir. If you wish to be the first to sign, I’m sure no one would—”

  “No,” David cut in. “I’m no more than the rest of you, just a man pledging his support to good Texas government. I can wait my turn. Let them closest to you sign first.”

  “Very well.”

  Carefully, and with varying degrees of penmanship, the volunteers put their names on the paper. The name of David Crockett was nineteenth on the final list, but even so, it managed to stand out above all the others. He was a famous man. He had a
reputation. And signing up to support the Texas cause was just the way to live up to it. He knew that when the battle for Texas was done, the people here would not forget the Tennessee volunteer who lent his famous name and rifle to their cause.

  By the ninth of January, David Crockett and his companions were in Saint Augustine. His family back in Tennessee was on his mind, for even though he had very cavalierly declared to a woman back in Lost Prairie that he had set his family “free” and they must now “shift for themselves,” the truth was that they were frequently in his thoughts, and he was eager to get on with the business of obtaining land and settling himself so he could begin bringing his kin to join him.

  He sat down in the quiet of the evening, away from all the others, and wrote a letter to his daughter, Margaret, and her husband, Wiley Flowers.

  He greeted them warmly and wrote of his “high spirits” and “excellent health,” and of being “received by everyone” in Texas with friendship and even ceremony. “The cannon was fired here on my arrival and I must say as to what I have seen of Texas it is the garden spot of the world. The best land and the best prospects for health I ever saw, and I do believe it is a fortune for any man to come here. There is a world of country here to settle.”

  He described the ease with which land could be obtained, the abundant timber and fine streams, and how he hoped to settle in a “pass where the buffalo passes from north to south and back twice a year, and bees and honey plenty.”

  He continued: “I have taken the oath of government and have enrolled my name as a volunteer and will set out for the Rio Grand in a few days with the volunteers from the United States. But all volunteers is entitled to vote for a member of the convention or to be voted for, and I have but little doubt of being elected a member to form a constitution for this province. I am rejoiced at my fate. I had rather be in my present situation than to be elected to a seat in Congress for life. I am in hopes of making a fortune yet for myself and family, bad as my prospect has been.”

  He requested his daughter to show the letter to others in the family, and urged her to “do the best you can and I will do the same.”

  Almost as if in afterthought, he wrote: “Do not be uneasy about me. I am among friends. I will close with great respects. Your affectionate father.”

  And then, with the characteristic disdain for “spelling contrary to nature” that he had noted in the preface of his autobiography, David Crockett closed his hurried letter with a single word, not noticing how oddly final it was in tone.

  “Farwell.”

  The next days were taken up with travel. David noted that Persius seemed to be feeling at least slightly ill again, and his cough had come back, though not as badly as before. He fiddled as the company rode, drawing many complaints from his fellows and making David swear that surely the old belief that the fiddle was the devil’s instrument must be true, since there could surely be nothing godly about the kind of screeches being inflicted on them now. But the truth was that nobody really minded the fiddling much, partly because it was diverting to hear the music improving, bit by bit, in quality.

  Moving southwest, David and his company covered some 150 miles over a period of a few days, reaching Washington-on-the-Brazos by the final Tuesday of the month. There he signed an IOU to a man who gave him and some of his company help.

  Washington 23rd January 1836

  This is to certify that John Lott furnished my Self and four others Volunteers on our way to the army with accomodations for our Selves & horses The Government will pay him $7-50 cts-

  David Crockett

  They went on, heading for San Antonio de Bexar, a town that had until short weeks ago been occupied by a Mexican general named Martin Perfecto de Cos, who, under the mounting threat of revolution, had fortified an old mission that once had housed a Spanish colonial company from Alamo de Parras. The Texas colonists from America now simply called the old mission the Alamo, for short.

  General Cos had lost control of the Alamo and San Antonio de Bexar back in December under attack from Texas forces led by an old frontiersman named Ben Milam. Milam’s men had actually forced the Mexican general to begin negotiations. On December 10 General Cos had agreed to withdraw past the Rio Grande and to leave alone the Texans in San Antonio.

  Unfortunately, further military excursions by fired-up supporters of the revolution had caused much of the military supplies in San Antonio to be removed elsewhere, and even as Crockett and company advanced toward the town, one Colonel James Neill was struggling to fortify the Alamo mission with only a relative handful of volunteers. It was no easy task, especially in light of reports that President Santa Anna was furious at the rebel seizure of San Antonio and didn’t intend to let it stand.

  An atmosphere of desperate unease overhung the approximate three acres covered by the old mission, with its four-foot-thick walls and roofless chapel. It would not be long, Neill and others were convinced, before San Antonio would again be a place of battle.

  Chapter 56

  February 1836

  An old, crumbled-up-looking place if ever I seen one, David Crockett thought as he rode at the lead of his Tennessee Mounted Volunteers and through the gate of the sprawling compound once known as the Mission San Antonio de Valero, now commonly called El Alamo.

  A horse or two behind him, Persius Tarr scratched out a rough version of “Hail, the Conquering Hero Comes,” which David had taught him by whistling the tune until Persius finally got it. Now it seemed to be Persius’s favorite number, perhaps because it was one of the few tunes he could play from start to finish with no gaps.

  Sitting tall in his saddle and wearing his most prideful expression, David showed nothing in his looks but haughty confidence. From the great tour of his congressional days and his ceremonial stops along the way to Texas, he had learned much about making a grand entrance. This one proved as gratifying as most; as soon as he was on the big inner plaza, he was greeted by an uproar of cheers as if from a thousand throats. No more famous man had passed through that portal.

  He lifted his cap and waved it above his head, looking around with a big grin on his face. Once again the expression hid the great burst of concern rising in him. A thousand throats? Hardly. David looked all about and saw maybe two hundred men at the most, and that was putting a stretch to it. Was this meager group actually expected to hold this place, should it come to a fight?

  Persius evidently had similar thoughts. Glancing around, he muttered, “Which way back to Tennessee?” David pretended not to have heard.

  “Screamer Crockett, by Christmas!” some backwoodsman in the crowd bellowed. “Ol’ Mexes’ll have to run clear to South ’Meriky now that ol’ Canebrake Davy’s come with his rifle-gun!”

  Amid other such rough-toned heralds of welcome, David dismounted, and with the instincts of the experienced politician made for the nearest facsimile of a speaking platform, in this case, an empty crate. He stepped up on it and lifted both hands above his head.

  “Gentlemen of Bexar, I greet you as friends and companions!” he said. “I come here to join myself to you, and to stand by your side as no more than a simple private soldier. I have traveled far from my home state of Tennessee, and have come here in company with good men, who like me, come to throw their hats in your ring.”

  More cheering. He looked at the faces of those who had come with him. Familiar faces like Persius’s—who looked very concerned right now as he cast his eyes about the place—and those of others who had aligned themselves with him along the way: a Kentucky lawyer named Daniel Cloud, a Pennsylvania physician named John Purdy Reynolds, and fellow Tennessean Micajah Autry, who was expert on the violin and so had suffered more than anyone else under Persius’s supposedly musical assaults. Good men … men who were walking with him into a situation that was more sobering than he had anticipated. He was proud of them all for being here, and proud of himself … but the danger was worrisome. No wonder Persius looked as nervous as he did.

  Now, howeve
r, was not the time for such thoughts. David saw that his mere presence here brightened spirits around this dusty place. He launched into some of the standard old anecdotes he had used in his various political campaigns, describing how he had once traded a pelt for liquor with which to buy some votes, sneaked the pelt out from under the bar and traded it to the same barkeeper again, and again, and again. He gave a humorous recounting of the time his father chased him with a pole for laying out of school, and topped it off with some blatant lies that were far more entertaining than any truth he could have related.

  Meanwhile, he noted a dignified, light-haired young man striding across the plaza from one of the various buildings that lined the inside of its thick walls. With clear but sad eyes, a somewhat long nose, and thin, expressive lips, this was a man with an air of authority, even though, if David took his best guess, he would place this fellow some years shy of thirty. The fellow stood somewhat to himself, a patient but serious look on his face. He smiled at some of David’s jests and stories, but did not join in the guffaws. David could tell that the man was waiting to see him.

  Only after the impromptu speech-making was done and David’s shoulders had been slapped sore by scores of callused hands did the young man approach. David put out his hand, and the man took it.

  “Colonel Crockett? I welcome you to Bexar, sir. I have heard much about you for years now, and it’s an honor to meet you at last.” His voice had the pleasant drawl of the South Carolinian and was touched as well with Alabamian inflections. “My name is Travis, Colonel William Barret Travis. Please excuse my lack of a uniform. I had ordered one for shipment to me but had to leave for this place before it could reach me.”

  “Are you one of the head men of this garrison, Colonel? If so, there is quite a lot I need to learn from you.”