by J. T. Edson
‘Yet you can’t be more than twenty-five years old,’ Alvarez went on. ‘You must have gained very rapid promotion.’
‘I di—’ Mannen began.
‘Don’t bother lying, amigo,’ Ole Devil advised and looked at Urrea in a way that seemed redolent of great admiration. ‘Santa Anna was taken in by my story about us having served in the Prussian Army, but I didn’t think we’d fool you, General.’
‘So you’re not what you pretend to be?’ Urrea asked, sounding a trifle puzzled but not entirely displeased by the slender Texian’s obvious respect for his shrewd judgment.
‘No, senor,’ Ole Devil admitted. ‘But I knew the real von Richthofen back home and believed he’d be more acceptable to Santa Anna than a couple of remittance men who’ve had to leave the United States—for their health.’
‘So you’re no more than fugitives from justice?’ Saucedo sneered.
‘Only because the three men we killed belonged to families with greater wealth and influence than our own,’ Ole Devil explained, directing the words to Urrea and ignoring the colonel.
Watching and listening to the by-play, Mannen was impressed with the further evidence of his cousin’s ability to take into consideration eventualities which might spoil a proposed line of action. Having envisaged that somebody might see through their deception, Ole Devil had arranged for a way to reply. If the hint of smug satisfaction on the General’s face was anything to go by, he was far from displeased to discover that his visitors regarded him as being far more perceptive and intelligent than Santa Anna.
‘Senora Alvarez tells me that you want to enlist in the Tamaulipa Brigade, Count—or whatever your name is,’ Urrea said, throwing a scowl which silenced the comment Saucedo had intended to make.
‘We do, senor,’ Ole Devil confirmed. ‘Our real names are Jack and Mylo Smithers.’
‘What makes you think that the General needs to enlist more men, particularly foreigners?’ Alvarez inquired.
‘Good quality fighting men, which I think the senora will assure you we are, are always useful for what the General has in mind,’ Ole Devil replied.
‘And what do I have in mind?’ Urrea challenged, after darting a glance at his Paymaster.
‘That you’d make a better Presidente than Santa Anna,’ Ole Devil answered.
‘And why would the General think that?’ Alvarez said mildly, when Urrea did not answer.
‘Except for your part in it, over which Santa Anna had no control, he bungled the whole campaign against the Texians,’ Ole Devil explained, directing his words to the General. ‘He wasted hundreds of lives and almost five weeks in taking the Alamo, then he celebrated a victory which had cost him more men than most defeats would have done. Even when he set out after Houston, having given him time to get well out of reach, he only started to hurry when following the wild goose chase of the Texian Government. The forced marches he made reduced his army to such a state of exhaustion that, when Houston trapped them against the San Jacinto River, they were easy meat. Against all that stupidity, you dealt with two forces, each superior in number to the defenders of the Alamo and received only a few casualties. A man of your tactical knowledge would never have made such blunders. In fact, you anticipated that Santa Anna was falling into a trap. That was why you turned back instead of joining him.’
While speaking, the young Texian wondered if he might be over-doing the praise. Urrea’s face showed that the derogatory comments about el Presidente and the appreciation for his own ability were far from unwelcome. However, the General scowled at the reference to his withdrawal.
‘Are you saying that we deserted our countrymen?’ Saucedo snarled, also having noticed Urrea’s change of attitude and hoping to capitalize on it.
‘The General had only the interests of Mexico and the welfare of the Tamaulipa Brigade in mind when he turned back,’ Ole Devil countered. ‘He knew that Santa Anna was endangering the rest of the Mexican Army and that, in the event of a defeat, it would go worse for your men than those who had served under other generals.’
‘Why should it?’ Urrea asked.
‘Santa Anna knew that the Texians might be willing to forgive him for what he had done at the Alamo, but they wouldn’t over Goliad,’ Ole Devil answered. ‘So, as you learned, he made a point of saying that you had acted without his authority there. That the killing at Goliad was on your orders. You knew that it would cost you the lives of every one of your men who fell into the Texians’ hands. So, when it became obvious that Santa Anna was playing Houston’s game, you wisely withdrew, not only protect your men, but to ensure that Mexico still had an army capable of defending its frontiers.’
As the explanation proceeded, it became obvious to Ole Devil that Urrea liked the theory which he was propounding. Either he had made a shrewd guess regarding the General’s motives in not joining the main body of the Mexican Army, or Urrea was not averse to being supplied with a plausible reason for turning back.
‘Do you know anything about the battle at San Jacinto?’ Badillo inquired.
‘I was too smart to let myself be trapped and wasn’t there, but I stayed close enough to see what happened,’ Ole Devil replied, and gave a brief, fairly accurate description of the fighting.
‘How could so few Texians win so easily?’ Saucedo protested.
‘What happened to the prisoners they took?’ Alvarez put in, before an answer could be made to the colonel’s query. ‘How many were executed?’
‘None,’ Ole Devil replied.
‘None?’ repeated three male voices, and all of the Mexican officers except the Paymaster looked a question at Beatriz.
‘Not one,’ Ole Devil insisted. ‘There was heavy slaughter during the fighting. At least six hundred died and about twice as many were taken captive. But Houston would not allow any of them, including Santa Anna when he fell into their hands, to be executed.’
‘I was told—!’ Beatriz began.
‘Whoever told you otherwise was either lying or mistaken, senora,’ Ole Devil interrupted politely but firmly.
‘How can you be so sure?’ Saucedo challenged.
‘I was in Houston’s camp, dressed as a Texian, for a day after the battle,’ Ole Devil replied. ‘It was easy enough to do so in the confusion.’
‘You went to a lot of risk and trouble—’ Saucedo growled.
‘Incomplete information’s no use and I always believe in coming prepared when I’m offering my services,’ Ole Devil replied. ‘I had an idea of the kind of things the General would want to know about, and I went where I could to get the answers. Like I said, it wasn’t too hard, or dangerous, once the fighting was over.’
‘That sounds reasonable to me,’ Badillo declared. ‘The Texians never had much idea of discipline.’
‘Then how did they beat our army?’ Saucedo challenged. ‘Exhausted or not, Santa Anna had them outnumbered.’
‘But they had better weapons,’ Ole Devil pointed out. ‘Their rifles matched against old muskets is what allowed less than two hundred of them to hold the Alamo Mission for thirteen days against the full strength of Santa Anna’s army. And so many of them using caplock rifles, which would fire in the damp air of a cold and misty morning when flintlocks failed, caused the defeat at San Jacinto.’
‘Did they have rifles such as you carry?’ Alvarez wanted to know.
‘Luckily for Santa Anna’s force, they didn’t,’ Ole Devil answered, offering his Browning to Urrea. Then he took out and placed a magazine on the desk, continuing, ‘If they had, many more Mexicans would have been killed.’
‘Senora Alvarez told us about these,’ the General stated, examining the rifle with considerable interest. ‘How many shots will it fire?’
‘I’ve only got five-shot slides,’ Ole Devil replied, indicating the one on the desk. ‘But they can be made to hold more.’
‘I’ve heard about such things,’ Saucedo sniffed, being determined to discredit the young gringo. ‘They’re complicated, fragile, and misfi
re more often than they shoot.’
‘Not this kind,’ Ole Devil contradicted. ‘It’s so easy that even an enlisted man could be taught to use one. Neither Cousin Mylo nor I’ve ever had a misfire.’
‘They certainly didn’t today,’ Beatriz supplemented.
‘Do you know where to get more of them?’ Urrea asked, showing greater animation than he had up to that point.
‘Yes, sir,’ Ole Devil confirmed. ‘Santa Anna was interested and I put him in touch with the maker who lives not far from New Orleans. He had a hundred and was making more.’
‘And if we give you the money, you’ll go to fetch them for us,’ Saucedo sneered.
‘Not me!’ Ole Devil stated emphatically. ‘I know what will happen to me if I’m caught in the United States.’
‘You say that Santa Anna was interested in them?’ Urrea asked.
‘He seemed to be very interested,’ Ole Devil confirmed. ‘An army, or even a regiment, armed with them would be a very potent force.’
‘Huh!’ Saucedo grunted. ‘They’d just encourage the enlisted men to waste powder and shot.’
‘From what I heard, that’s the argument the United States’ generals used for not adopting them,’ Ole Devil answered. ‘I can’t see why it should happen if the men are trained and disciplined correctly.’
‘I’d certainly like my regiment to be armed with them,’ Badillo declared. ‘If we can get enough of them, we’d be—’
‘There’s one thing puzzles me about this hombre,’ Saucedo interrupted. ‘If he’s been so close to Santa Anna, why haven’t we heard about him?’
‘There’s a good reason why you shouldn’t have,’ Ole Devil replied, seeing a hint of suspicion come to the General’s face. ‘He didn’t just have me working against the Texians.’
‘So you were spying on Santa Anna’s officers,’ Saucedo suggested, drawing the conclusion that Ole Devil had hoped he would.
‘Them and the other renegades,’ the young Texian conceded. ‘There weren’t many people el Presidente trusted .’
‘He seems to have trusted you,’ the colonel growled, with the air of making a damaging point.
‘No more than anybody else,’ Ole Devil answered. ‘But he paid me well and I gave him good value for his money. Only, as he isn’t able to pay me any more, I’m looking for a new employer.’
For all his calm exterior, the young Texian was feeling anything but relaxed. All too well he appreciated the deadly dangerous game he was playing. His every instinct warned him that the next few seconds could make all the difference between life and death for his companions and himself.
Chapter Twelve – We’re Still Living on a Knife’s Edge
Never had time seemed to pass so slowly for Ole Devil Hardin. From the start of the interview, he had been working towards this moment. If he was accepted, he could begin to carry out the far from easy task which had brought him into the center of General José Urrea’s domain.
At Ole Devil’s side, Mannen Blaze lounged as if half asleep. Despite his lethargic attitude, the burly Texian was just as tense as his cousin. Although it took all of his self-control, he contrived to avoid letting his true feelings show. So did Tommy Okasi. In that respect, the little Oriental was helped by the fact that he did not understand much of what had been said. However, sharing his companions’ awareness of the precarious situation, he still maintained his usual inscrutability.
‘I’ll say one thing about you, young man,’ Major Francisco Alvarez remarked. ‘You’ve been very frank with us.’
‘Why shouldn’t I be?’ Ole Devil asked. ‘I want to make enough money to set myself up in a new life in Europe. I have come to a man who I feel sure can help me do it.’
‘Some might think that would be a poor reason for hiring you,’ the Paymaster pointed out.
‘Others, with greater intelligence, wouldn’t agree,’ Ole Devil countered, looking straight at Urrea. ‘They would know exactly how things stood with me.’ His eyes flickered away from the General and returned as he continued, ‘Which is more than can be said of others.’
‘What does that mean?’ demanded Colonel Sebastian Saucedo, having noticed that he was the recipient of a pointed glance from the young Texian.
‘Only that, not being Mexican, I have no ambitions beyond doing my work so as to earn as much money as possible,’ Ole Devil replied.
‘I don’t see what we would have to lose hiring him and his men,’ Major Carlos Badillo declared, reaching the decision chiefly because he guessed his hated rival would be against it. ‘From all we’ve heard they’re good fighters, and we can always use men like that.’
‘As long as we can trust them,’ Saucedo supplemented.
‘I’m willing to take a chance on that,’ Badillo announced, glaring defiance at the colonel. ‘In fact, if you don’t object, General, I’ll take them into my troop and let Senor—Smithers—replace Escalier.’
‘Are you willing to assume full responsibility for them, major?’ Alvarez inquired.
‘I am,’ Badillo stated. He had hesitated for just a moment until he saw the sneer on Saucedo’s face.
‘It’s your decision, Carlos,’ Urrea warned, having first glanced at the Paymaster and received what Ole Devil considered was a quick nod of confirmation. ‘I put them in your charge.’
Noticing the rapid by-play, the young Texian suddenly realized what it was that Alvarez reminded him of. During Ole Devil’s final year at school, one of the teachers had been paid by a wealthy parent to ensure that his son achieved a high scholastic record and passed a very important examination. Standing, apparently obsequious and unassuming, by the General’s side, the Paymaster looked much as the pedant had as he watched over and inconspicuously guided the far from bright student when others were asking questions.
If Ole Devil’s impressions were correct, Alvarez must be the brains behind Urrea. What was more, the young Texian told himself, in all probability the Paymaster and not the General had decided to have the Texian prisoners at Goliad slaughtered.
‘Gracias,’ Badillo answered. ‘I’ll look after them. And I’d like to suggest that we find some way to buy enough of these rifles to equip my regiment.’
‘Maybe Colonel Ortega won’t agree to it,’ Saucedo objected, although he knew that the titular commanding officer of the Tamaulipa Lancers had little actual say in the running of his regiment.
‘I think he will,’ Badillo replied, frowning at the reminder that he was—officially at least—subordinate to Ortega. ‘He’s not so old fashioned that he’ll refuse to see the value of the rifles.’
‘Why should your regiment get them, anyway?’ Saucedo demanded truculently. ‘You’re supposed to be Lancers.’
‘A lance is a poor weapon against a man with a firearm,’ the major pointed out. ‘And we may not find it so easy to take control.’
‘If we should agree to equip some of our men,’ Alvarez put in, clearly not wanting any definite statement regarding their plans for the future to be made in the Texians’ presence, ‘how much would, say—three hundred—cost, Senor Smithers?’
‘Three hundred?’ Urrea almost yelped.
‘Enough to equip two regiments, General,’ Alvarez elaborated, laying an emphasis on the fourth word. Clearly the Paymaster intended to ensure that the balance of power between Saucedo and Badillo was maintained. ‘What would they cost, Senor Smithers?’
‘Ours were forty-five dollars each,’ Ole Devil said, truthfully. ‘But you’d maybe get three hundred at a lower price because of the quantity. He supplies the bullet moulds and powder flasks fitted with measures that ensure just the right amount of powder is fed into the chambers of the slide. You’ll need percussion caps, plenty of them. Except for one thing, getting hold of all you’ll need won’t be too great a problem.’
‘Go on,’ Alvarez prompted and, to the young Texian’s way of thinking, it was significant that he instead of the General had done so.
‘According to the reports Santa Anna received,
there was a lot of bad feeling against Mexico raised in the United States when word of the Alamo reached there,’ Ole Devil obliged. ‘He hadn’t heard how the people felt regarding what happened at Goliad, but I’d be willing to bet it didn’t make them any fonder of you—’
‘Carry on, please,’ the Paymaster requested, when the comment came to an end.
‘So the maker might not be too happy about letting it be known that he’d sold his rifles to somebody in Mexico,’ Ole Devil continued. ‘Which he’d almost certainly have to if he was paid in Mexican money.’
‘But he’d sell them for United States dollars, if we had them,’ Badillo guessed.
‘He’s a businessman, not a politician,’ Ole Devil replied. ‘So I reckon he would if the price was right.’
‘We don’t have any American money,’ Saucedo pointed out. ‘And the support Senora Alvarez raised in Matamoros wasn’t anywhere near as high as—’
‘I can’t answer for the exact state of our finances until I’ve had time to check on them,’ the Paymaster interrupted and, despite his apologetic tone, it was plain that he felt the colonel’s statement should not have been made.
‘If we had enough would we be able to change it for United States currency?’ Badillo asked and Urrea, to whom the question had been directed, threw his usual interrogatory glance at Alvarez.
‘Arranging for an exchange shouldn’t prove too difficult,’ the Paymaster declared pedantically. ‘It could be done through the bank in Matamoros.’
‘We’d still have to organize the purchase and delivery,’ Badillo said thoughtfully. ‘Which means one of us will have to go to the United States and do it.’
‘Who?’ demanded Saucedo, his whole bearing redolent of suspicion.
‘I don’t think it’s much use debating the matter further until we know whether we can raise the money to make the purchase,’ Alvarez put in with gentle firmness. ‘Also, my wife has been travelling all day. She is hungry and tired. So I’d like to suggest we leave things stand until we know more about it.’
‘That’s what we’ll do,’ the General stated, taking the hint, then his eyes went to the Paymaster. ‘What about Senor Smithers and his men?’
