by J. T. Edson
‘You were right in that,’ Houston confirmed, nodding his white haired head approvingly. He could see that Dimmock was relieved at having been exonerated of any desire to continue his flight without considering the possibility of other survivors. The comment was clear proof that the Mephistophelian-featured young captain had a keen grasp of the situation and considerable knowledge of human nature. ‘Please God there were others who escaped, but for you to have waited wouldn’t have helped them. You’ve done more good by getting here as quickly as possible.’
‘Thank you, sir,’ Dimmock said gratefully.
‘Was the destruction of Fort Defiance carried out?’ the General went on.
‘Yes, sir,’ the lieutenant replied. ‘We blew the trunnions off the cannon, as we’d no means of hauling them, and threw the shot into the San Antonio River before we left.’
‘Do you know anything about the military chest containing the pay for the troops?’ Houston inquired, hoping that in some way the not inconsiderable sum of money—close to ten thousand dollars in United States’ silver and gold coins—had not been allowed to fall into the Mexican’s hands.
‘Colonel Fannin had it buried and the spot hidden when we were surrounded, sir,’ Dimmock answered and his face darkened with anger. ‘Then it was dug up to purchase our release. God damn it! It was supposed to ensure our safety!’
At that moment, before the lieutenant could continue with his tirade, a voice from outside the tent asked if it would be all right to enter. On receiving permission, a somber-faced colonel walked in.
‘This young man’s arrival has caused a lot of unrest among the men, sir,’ the colonel stated, darting a look at Dimmock’s angry face. ‘Would it be possible to tell them when we can expect Fannin to get here?’
‘Fannin won’t be coming, Jack,’ Houston answered quietly, then gave a shrug. ‘Have assembly blown. It’s no use keeping what’s happened from them.’
‘Yes, sir,’ the colonel replied, his gaze flickering from the General to Dimmock and back. He paused for a moment as if meaning to ask another question, thought better of it and turned, saying, ‘I’ll have it done straight away.’
‘Go and try to get some rest, Mr. Dimmock,’ Houston ordered, after the colonel had left. ‘I know it won’t be easy, but I can assure you that you’ve nothing to reproach yourself over. Without your information, we’d have waited in vain for Fannin to come. Now I can avoid any delay in taking action.’
‘Can I ask what that action will be, sir?’ Ole Devil inquired, although he could guess at the answer.
‘There’s no chance of us making a stand here now,’ Houston replied. ‘And I think that the men will see that when I tell them what happened to Fannin’s command. We’ll resume our withdrawal to the east in the morning.’
‘Is there any way we can get revenge, or make the Mexicans pay for what they’ve done, sir?’ Dimmock demanded angrily.
‘Not at the moment, much as I wish there was,’ Houston admitted. ‘Many of the men with Fannin were my friends. But I’m afraid they’ll have to go unavenged for now.’
And for all time, Ole Devil thought, unless the Texians defeated Santa Anna’s army—which did not seem likely to happen under the circumstances. In fact, as things stood at that moment, there was a very good chance that the men who were responsible for the massacre would never be brought to account for their crimes.
~*~
Even as Houston was making his pronouncement, the man who had been behind the decision to wipe out Fannin’s command was looking at the two officers who had been assigned to carry it out.
If fear of retribution, or twinges of conscience were troubling General José Urrea, he showed no sign of it. A big man, just topping the six foot level, he had the look of a formerly muscular and very active soldier whose present lack of exercise was causing him to run to fat. He was swarthily handsome, but the signs of too much easy living and dissipation were starting to leave their traces. What was more, his attempts to plaster the remains of once luxuriant black hair over a bare patch on the top of his head could not entirely hide the fact that he was going bald. For all that, with the aid of a corset, he still filled his costly and perfectly tailored uniform in a way that he felt sure was most appealing to members of the opposite sex.
On the arrival of the Tamaulipa Brigade in Goliad, Urrea had taken over the test house in the town for his headquarters. Seated in its owners well furnished study, he hoisted a black Napoleon leg boot xviii on to the top of the desk and scratched the smooth, polished surface with an angry motion of a sharp rowelled spur. The action did not go unnoticed by the other three occupants of the room. Two of them did not care for what it implied. They knew the General had the kind of nature that took a childish delight in such senseless acts of vandalism, particularly when something was displeasing him.
Urrea’s attitude was puzzling to Colonel Sebastian Saucedo and Major Carlos Badillo. Taken all in all, he ought to have been satisfied by the way in which his part of the campaign against the Texian rebels was progressing. Unlike the main body of the Mexican Army, which had been reduced by close to a thousand dead and at least as many wounded during the fighting at the Alamo Mission, the Tamaulipa Brigade could consider themselves very fortunate in the matter of casualties. Against the few of his men who had been killed or injured could be balanced two successful engagements and the removal of several burdensome prisoners. In addition, there had been the gathering of much loot.
Although the two officers did not know it, the latter consideration was the cause of the General’s annoyance.
‘According to my figures, gentlemen,’ announced the dry-as-dust voice of the man who was standing at the right of Urrea’s chair consulting a sheet of paper in his hand, ‘twenty-seven of the Texians are still to be accounted for.’
To many people, Major Francisco Alvarez seemed to exist solely for the purpose of gathering numbers and producing statistics. The fascination which he showed for such dull matters far exceeded the requirements of his position as Paymaster to the Tamaulipa Brigade. Statistics were apparently his only interest in life. Although he wore the uniform of a regular army officer, his stoop-shouldered, lanky build and habit of peering short-sightedly through a pair of steel-rimmed glasses made him look more of a bookkeeper or clerk than a soldier. His manner of speaking was pompous and his aesthetic features were marred by lips which never smiled. Nothing appeared to strike him as humorous and he exuded an aura of solemn disapproval which most people with whom he came into contact found either irritating or infuriating.
‘My men did their part, general!’ Saucedo growled, bristling with the indignation which always came when he thought he was being made the target of criticism. He paused, darted a defiant glance at Badillo and waited for comment. When none came he continued with his exculpatory explanation. ‘There were too many of them breaking away for the sharpshooters I’d put on the slope to be able to deal with them all. It takes time to reload a rifle. Damn it, if the Lancers had done what they were supposed to—’
‘They did,’ Badillo interrupted, oozing icy politeness. ‘It was your suggestion that all of my troop came back to help with the fighting.’
‘We should have had some more of them hidden on the slopes,’ Saucedo declared.
‘To have done so would have increased the chances of the Texians spotting the ambush,’ Badillo pointed out, determined that his regiment should not be held responsible for the escapes. ‘I warned you what might happen.’
‘I can’t see why we had to set up an ambush,’ Saucedo grumbled. ‘It would have been easier and more efficient to shoot them where we were holding them instead of waiting until they were in the woodland.’
‘Presidente Santa Anna didn’t want it done that way,’ Alvarez replied in a dispassionate tone. ‘He wanted to avoid the story of what happened reaching the United States. That is why we couldn’t take the more certain way out.’
As always, when watching or listening to the Paymaster, Badillo fo
und himself wondering how a beautiful woman like Beatriz could have taken such a dull and unattractive man for a husband. Not, the cavalry major reminded himself cheerfully, that she had paid any great attention to her marriage vows when in his company.
‘Damn it, I did my best!’ Saucedo bellowed, ‘it’s all very well for you to stand there waving a sheet of paper—’
‘I’m merely giving the report that General Urrea asked for, colonel,’ Alvarez answered, with calm disinterest. ‘According to my orders, I have checked the number of dead against the total who left here and there is a discrepancy. All of the search parties have returned—’
‘Not all of them,’ Badillo corrected. ‘Six of my men went after one who got away on a horse. They have not come back yet.’
‘Let’s hope they’re more use than some of you were!’ Saucedo spat out.
‘If my horse hadn’t been shot—!’ Badillo began, just as heatedly.
‘Now, gentlemen,’ Urrea put in, swinging his foot to the floor and slapping the desktop with the palm of his right hand. ‘Despite Francisco’s figures, I don’t think things went off too badly. Your organization was good and you both played your parts very well. Anyway, no matter what el Presidente wants, it won’t do any harm if the ones who get away spread the word of what’s happened to the rest of that Texian scum. In fact, it’s likely to scare them back into the United States.’
While the General overtly encouraged the rivalry between the two most powerful and influential officers under his command, he had no desire to see it come to a head. By keeping them both alive, he prevented either from growing strong enough to threaten his position. He had ambitious plans for the future in which they would both be needed to play a part. That was why he had intervened, as he had the previous afternoon, to avert a clash that might result in the death of one of them.
The trouble had almost come to a head on the trail after the fighting had ended. Furious over his narrow escape and also because of his suspicions, Badillo had come close to provoking the kind of incident the General was anxious to avoid. He had been on the point of confronting Saucedo, who had made a disparaging comment about him having taken no part in the struggle, when Urrea and Alvarez—the General’s ever present shadow—had arrived. Learning the cause of the disagreement, Urrea had—with the Paymasters assistance—managed to calm down both officers. To prevent further trouble from erupting, Alvarez had suggested that the hunting of such Texians as had escaped should be organized. This had ensured that the colonel and the major were kept out of each other’s company. However, the General knew that their animosity was still as strong as ever. Nor would he have had it any other way.
Searching for the escapees had occupied Saucedo and Badillo for most of the next twenty-four hours. As Alvarez’s figures proved, their efforts had not been entirely successful. However, the colonel had used some of the time to his own advantage. He knew that the major guessed the shooting of his horse had been the result of an attempt to murder him, and he had taken steps to prevent him from learning the truth. Accompanying Sergeant Refugio, ostensibly to hunt for one of the Texians, the colonel had contrived to knock him over a cliff so that he fell unconscious into the San Antonio River and was drowned. There had been no witnesses and, although Badillo suspected what had happened, he had been unable to prove the sergeant’s death was anything but an accident.
The summons to report to Urrea’s office was not, as Saucedo and Badillo imagined, merely to let them know how many of the Texians had avoided being killed. They were there so that the General could try to find out what they knew of the ransom Fannin had paid to secure the release of his men.
The money and not orders from Santa Anna (whose dispatch merely requested that the prisoners be disposed of in whatever way might prove most convenient) had been why Urrea had insisted on them being killed in such a manner. If he had placed them in front of formal firing squads, there could have been a danger that some mention of the ransom would have been made. El Presidente had spies in the Tamaulipa Brigade and the General had no desire to turn over even part of the ransom money to him. In fact, Urrea intended to use it to finance his bid to overthrow Santa Anna and become the ruler of Mexico.
Nor was Urrea’s display of annoyance caused by the information reported by Alvarez. He was irritated at having to spend time questioning the two officers when there were more enjoyable matters awaiting his attention. Although he would have preferred that all the Texians were killed, he was not unduly worried over the few who had escaped. Fannin’s insistence upon secrecy when making the offer had implied that he did not want his men to learn how he had secured their release. So it was probable that he had not told them. xix In which case, it was possible that none of the survivors were aware of what had happened to the money. Certainly they would not know that Urrea and Alvarez had collected it on Friday night, before offering the parole the next morning.
After Alvarez had asked sufficient questions to satisfy him that neither the colonel nor the major had heard about the ransom, Urrea told them there was to be a celebration that night. While the enlisted men held a fiesta in the town’s plaza, the officers were to attend a ball at which the beautiful and gracious Senora Beatriz Alvarez was to be hostess. Watching them leave, the General felt contented. The promise of the festivities had caused them to forget their differences for the time being and he would not have that to trouble him.
More important, they had not learned of the money that he had acquired to help his plans for the future. In addition, according to the latest reports, Santa Anna was once more on the march. Soon the Texians would be driven out and there would be no repercussions over the killing of the three hundred and seventy-three prisoners.
Thinking of the last two points, Urrea felt a sense of satisfaction. He had guessed why Houston was withdrawing to the east and knew that there would soon be a confrontation. Unless he was mistaken, it would be a hard and bloody battle and that was what he wanted. He had a plan in mind that would ensure that the Tamaulipa Brigade remained at its present strength no matter how many more men Santa Anna lost in quelling the rebellion. So Urrea would be able to fall upon the weakened el Presidente with a greater chance of success.
The ball that evening would allow the General to make his intentions known and to set them in motion.
Chapter Six – It Could Mean Certain Death
With the burly man’s arms encircling his waist, Ole Devil Hardin was raised from the ground and thrust against the trunk of a fair sized white ash tree. He grunted involuntarily. Not only were his ribs being crushed in a painful manner, but his back was forced against the rough, interlacing ridges and fissures of the grayish bark and his buckskin shirt offered only minimal protection.
Depending on their sympathies, the watching crowd let out exclamations of alarm or showed their satisfaction. While the fight had been fast paced and hectic, with most of the punishment going to Ole Devil’s larger and heavier opponent, the spectators now considered that it was as good as over. Previously, the young captain’s speed, matched by a knowledge of the French foot boxing known as savate and some mighty slick wrestling tricks, had allowed him to more than hold his own. However, having been brought to such close quarters put him at a serious disadvantage. His assailant had a well-deserved reputation for strength and roughhouse brawling. The bear hug was one of the burly, buckskin clad man’s pet tactics and had brought him victory on several occasions.
Holding his cousin’s hat, percussion fired .54 caliber Manton xx single barrel pistol, and ivory handled James Black bowie knife, Mannen Blaze looked on with some concern. He wondered if for once Ole Devil might have taken on too big a chore. However, he realized that there was nothing he could do to help. If he attempted to intervene, so would the burly man’s supporters and that might bring the whole of the crowd into the fight.
Standing at Mannen’s side, Tommy Okasi looked different from when he had helped to save Lieutenant Paul Dimmock’s life. xxi While his clothing and armament w
ere the same, (except that he had left off the quiver of arrows,) he had not yet removed all of the disguise which he had adopted to carry out a dangerous assignment two nights earlier. xxii So his skin still retained the dark brown color produced by a stain which he had manufactured. xxiii The result was remarkable. He lacked the characteristic ‘hawk’ nose, but the effect of the curious trait known as the ‘shovel incisor’—in which the inner surfaces of the upper front teeth are concave, as though scooped out—combined with the fleshy eyelids and folds that gave his eyes their slanted appearance made him seem more Indian than Oriental. It had been even more pronounced when he had been dressed suitably and had worn a black wig that had been supplied by a member of a small theatrical troupe who had been entertaining the Republic of Texas’s Army.
Like Mannen, Tommy was studying Ole Devil’s predicament. He was less perturbed by what he saw. Early in their acquaintance, he had taught his employer some of the ju-jitsu and karate techniques—practically unknown outside his homeland at that period—which enabled him to render larger, heavier and stronger men helpless when the need arose. By making use of this knowledge, Ole Devil ought to be able to break the hold that was endangering him.
In spite of the torment being inflicted upon him, Ole Devil experienced neither despair nor panic. While he did not possess the extensive knowledge that Tommy would later give to his, as yet, unborn nephew—who would become legendary as the Rio Hondo gun wizard, Dusty Fog xxiv —he had learned sufficient to be confident that he could escape from the bear hug. There was one snag. His opponent might be a loud-mouthed trouble causer, but Ole Devil had no desire to inflict a serious injury on him as was possible when using Japanese techniques. So he was somewhat restricted in the methods he could apply.
