Eyes of Eagles

by William W. Johnstone

  “Not yet,” Houston told him.

  Santa Anna would be held prisoner, albeit treated well, for almost seven months, to make sure that Mexico kept its promise, then he was released. For all intents and purposes, the war was over. Texas was free of Mexico’s domination.

  Forty-eight

  Jamie’s recovery was long. But under the care of family and friends, he soon began to show signs of improvement. Slowly his strength began to return and by midsummer, he was taking walks around the cultivated fields in the Big Thicket country. He sent one of the Nunez boys down to Galveztown, or Galveston, as some were now calling it, with a note to the newspaper editor there, telling him of the dispatch pouch he had left the Alamo with, and of the messages carried therein. The editor did not come himself, but did send a friend to talk with Jamie. The man did not believe Jamie’s story, dismissing his claims. Had Jamie been fully recovered from his wounds, the man would have returned to Galveston with a busted jaw, along with other contusions and abrasions.

  But the owner of the paper, while interviewing Santa Anna at a later date that summer, was startled to learn that Santa Anna himself remembered the tall young man with the courage of lions, as Santa Anna put it. The editor made a note of it and mentally vowed to visit the Big Thicket country to personally speak with Jamie Ian MacCallister.

  As for Jamie, Kate watched him recover and noticed that his gaze often turned longingly to the west.

  “We’ll be leaving soon,” she told her circle of friends.

  “What?” Sarah blurted. “Leave? And go where? And why?”

  “I don’t know exactly where,” Kate admitted. “West, I’m sure. I know Jamie.”

  “But, this is your home!”

  Kate smiled and cut her eyes to Hannah, who had said nothing. She, too, knew Jamie, and Kate’s announcement had come as no surprise to her.

  “We’ll all go,” Hannah said, causing Swede to swallow his chewing tobacco.

  Sam remained silent. Like Kate, he had seen the signs of restlessness growing in Jamie. Jamie had not confided in him, but Sam knew the Alamo had changed Jamie. He could not know to what degree, only that it had.

  By August, Jamie had fully recovered and announced that he was riding south to meet with the editor of the paper at Galveston.

  “I have to try,” he told Kate. “I have to try to get Bowie’s message to the public. It’s important.”

  He had never told anyone what Bowie had written. But he knew every word by heart.

  The owner and editor believed him, but without at least some modicum of proof, he felt he could not publish what Jamie had memorized.

  “Those are Bowie’s words, sir,” Jamie told him. “And Crockett’s words and Travis’s words. It’s important for the sake of history that they be recorded and preserved.”

  “I agree, young man. Wholeheartedly. And as you see, I’ve written them down, word for word, just as you told them to me. Maybe someday But not this day.”

  Jamie returned to the Big Thicket, a bitterly disappointed man. Moses Rose knew Bowie and Travis and Crockett had given him messages, but Jamie could find no trace of the man. Louis Moses Rose had dropped out of sight.

  * * *

  Little Wolf, like Jamie, had recovered from his wounds. The Shawnee had dragged himself into the brush and lay like a wounded animal for several days. He was in the brush when the patrol came along and found the bodies of the dead. But Jamie was not among them. Little Wolf was now consumed with hatred. It was what kept him alive. The patrol had not buried the dead, and that infuriated Little Wolf. That the whites would allow Indian dead to be left for the scavengers was unthinkable to Little Wolf. It showed how unfeeling they were. The fact that he had left a dozen or more of white bodies to rot under the sun or be eaten by animals did not enter his mind.

  Little Wolf did not have the strength to bury his father and his friends. He tried, but could not. He prayed that his father would forgive him. Little Wolf did not try to return to his mother’s village, far to the north.

  As he slowly healed, Little Wolf had only one thought in his mind: to kill Jamie MacCallister.

  * * *

  Jamie rode into San Augustine and bought a wagon from an American who had just emigrated from the States. Along with the wagon, he bought six big Missouri mules. It was October 1836.

  “We’ll leave in the spring,” he told Kate.

  “Everyone is going,” she replied.

  Jamie was not surprised.

  Jamie rode to the Nunez family’s cabin and told a very startled Juan he was giving his land to him. “You’re a good farmer, Juan. You’ll treat the land well. Be happy.”

  Egg came to see Jamie one last time. The huge Cherokee, now out of a job since Texas had declared its independence from Mexico, shook hands with Jamie.

  “What will happen to you now?” Jamie asked.

  Egg smiled. “I will survive. I shall live quietly in this land of swamps and forests. Soon no one will remember Egg.”

  But Egg would not survive to live out his remaining years in peace. He and the remaining band of Chief Diwali’s Cherokees, including Diwali’s son, were massacred on the banks of the Upper Brazos River in 1839, while trying to flee to Mexico.

  Jamie watched Egg walk toward the swamps. He felt he would never see the man again. Jamie owed Egg a great deal; probably his life.

  “Egg!” Jamie called.

  The Indian stopped and turned around.

  Jamie made the sign for brother. Egg smiled and returned the gesture, then stepped into the gloom of the swamp.

  Jamie never saw him again.

  Kate came to his side and Jamie put his arm around her waist. “All you have to do is say no, Kate. And this will be our home forever.”

  She smiled up at him. “I only have one objection, Jamie Ian MacCallister.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yes. With all the kids we have, you should have bought two wagons!”

  * * *

  In West Texas, Little Wolf had made friends with a small band of renegade Kiowa and Comanche and they spent the winter making life miserable for the few settlers who lived in that area. Little Wolfs reputation as a fearless warrior grew, and soon more renegades joined his ranks. These were Indians who had been kicked out of their tribe for one reason or the other, usually for stealing or coveting someone else’s wife... or murder. They were the worst of the worst and they liked the idea of killing Jamie and of taking the blond Kate for their own use. But riding into East Texas was not such a great idea, for the people there had no patience for warlike Indians.

  However, two half-breed Kiowa renegades did step forward, agreeing to travel into East Texas and scout out the area. Since Spanish was their first language, they felt they would have no trouble with whites. The saddles on their horses would be Mexican — stolen, of course. They would dress as Mexicans, act as Mexicans, and speak Spanish. They would see what they had to see and return as quickly as possible.

  * * *

  The fever of moving west into uncharted lands soon caught on with everybody in that one little pocket of the Big Thicket. It took some convincing, but Moses and Liza soon agreed to move west, as did Sally and Wells. It would be a big enough wagon train to discourage all but a very large war party of hostiles.

  That winter everyone worked on wagons, repairing or replacing harness, making spare wheels, and getting ready for spring. The women, of course, hated to leave their snug cabins, but the growing excitement of the children soon became infectious and all looked forward to spring’s budding.

  Little Wolfs scouts had ventured into the area, actually never entering the Big Thicket country but instead gathering their information by hanging around San Augustine and listening to talk and gossip. It did not take them long to learn all about Jamie’s plans to move west. As soon as they learned all there was to know, they were back in the saddle and heading west to report to Little Wolf.

  They had learned that Jamie planned to visit the Alamo, then cut north and w
est from there, heading for the big mountains, hundreds of miles away. Little Wolf smiled his insane curving of lips.

  “Perfect,” he said.

  And it was perfect for Little Wolf and his band. Texas was not going to tolerate much more from the Indians. The philosophy among the settlers was quickly becoming that the only good Indian was a dead one. The climate was rapidly beginning to get very unhealthy for the red man.

  “There is only one way they can go,” it was pointed out to Little Wolf. “When they reach this vast emptiness, we can strike.”

  “No,” Little Wolf said. “Once they leave the settlement of San Antonio, they will be on guard. And if they are with Man Who Is Not Afraid, they are fierce fighters all. Even the women. I despise Man Who Is Not Afraid, but he is a warrior without equal. I know,” he added bitterly. “So we must strike before they reach the settlement. We have time to plan carefully. They will not leave until spring warms the land. I think it would make my father rest easier if we took them along the same river where my father’s bones are now scattered. Yes. I think that is where Jamie MacCallister will lie rotting. And I will take his wife like a dog beside his body. Or perhaps allow him to live long enough to watch while I humble her; to hear her shrieking in pain and disgrace while we take our turns with her. Yes. That is a good plan. A very good plan.” Little Wolf laughed insanely. His followers knew that Little Wolf was a tad off-center, but they did not know to what extent.

  Little Wolf was as crazy as a lizard. But like many insane people, he was also cunning. Little Wolf did not fear death, as long as he saw Jamie die with him. He did not care if every man who followed him died. He cared only in seeing Jamie MacCallister dead.

  Dead. Like his father. Little Wolfs eyes began shining with a mad glow. Those renegades close to him slowly backed away, for Little Wolfs temper was a terrible thing to behold. And he was cruel and quite inventive when it came to torturing prisoners — man, woman, or child.

  His followers smiled. The taking of this wagon train should prove to be fun. There would be hours, perhaps days, of the screaming of prisoners under torture. There would be women and girls to rape and sodomize.

  Fun for everyone.

  Forty-nine

  When spring began greening the land and flowers were blooming in the meadows, Jamie and his band of westward-bound pioneers closed the door to their cabins and hitched up the teams. Juan Nunez and his family had decided to go with Jamie and the others: twelve adults, five teenagers, and a whole passel of kids. The Nunez boys would be in charge of taking care of the fine horses Jamie raised, the women would drive the wagons, and the men would act as outriders and scouts and hunters. The older kids would take turns spelling the women at the reins.

  “How far you reckon them mountains are, Jamie?” Swede asked.

  “About a thousand miles, I’d guess.”

  “It’ll be a grand adventure, for sure,” Sarah Montgomery said, looking around her at the fields that should have been plowed and planted by now.

  Kate was at the tiny cemetery, placing wild flowers on the graves of Baby Karen and Ophelia. Jamie walked over to stand beside her.

  “She’s not here, Kate,” he told her. “She’s with God in Heaven.”

  When she did not reply, Jamie said, “I guess it’s harder for the mother than it is for the father.”

  Kate smiled up at him, her eyes wet from crying. “You might say that, Jamie.”

  He felt totally helpless and awkward at moments like these. His Shawnee warrior training nearly always prevented him from showing much emotion. Severe beatings will etch that training forever in one’s mind.

  “All you had to do, Kate, was to say you didn’t want to go,” Jamie said gently.

  “Don’t be silly.” She wiped her eyes and laughed. “When that minister said ’til death do us part, I took it seriously!”

  They walked over to the wagons and Jamie helped Kate onto the seat. She picked up the reins and winked at him. “Let’s go to the mountains, Jamie Ian MacCallister. I’ve read about them, heard about them, and now I want to see them.”

  Jamie swung into the saddle. “Maybe we’ll run into Grandpa there.”

  “We won’t if you don’t get moving, love.”

  Jamie laughed and rode to the head of the wagons. He twisted in the saddle and looked back for the last time. He did not know why he felt they must leave and go traipsing off into the wilderness, only that they must.

  His eyes touched the eyes of Moses, white-headed now, before his time. A more dear and faithful friend no man could ever hope to find. His youngest son, Jed, was driving a wagon filled with tools and spare parts and wheels and anything else they felt they might need.

  Sally was driving a wagon, with Wells sitting his horse alongside her.

  Jamie locked eyes with Sarah, and she smiled at him from the wagon seat. He looked at Hannah, and she laughed openly. Jamie knew the Swede would never understand the special bond between him and Hannah; a bond so tight that only death would ever break it.

  Maria Nunez was handling the reins of her wagon, Juan sitting his horse beside the wagon. Two very fine people who raised well-mannered kids and who knew only hard work and grinding poverty while working the land.

  The kids were spread out among the wagons, and Jamie rode slowly down one side and up the other side, counting heads; blond heads, nappy heads, shiny-black-haired kids with flashing button eyes.

  What a mixture, Jamie thought. But we made it all work with no friction. So it can be done, if people will only try. And now we’re going to do it again.

  Jamie rode to the head of the column and lifted his arm. “Let’s go see the mountains, people!” he called.

  The wagons rolled through San Augustine and the people there came out to see them off, standing and waving and calling their hail and farewells for the last time. The owner of the general store handed Jamie a package and from the smell, he knew what it was: hard candy for the kids.

  It would be the last store candy the kids would see for months, perhaps years. Quicker than any of them would have liked, the tiny village was behind them and silence stretched out before them. Just outside of San Augustine, Jamie turned the wagons slightly south. They were going far out of their way to visit San Antonio, but all wanted to see the Alamo.

  They would not see another town or village or any type of settlement until they crossed the Trinity and a few miles southwest of there was a trading post. But that was miles ahead and days away.

  The area was not void of people, for thousands of Americans had moved into Texas just prior to the war for Texas independence, most of them settling in the eastern part of the state. Lots of people, but few towns.

  Jamie was once more in the peak of health, and roamed away from the wagons, always choosing the best crossing of sloughs and creeks. The “road” they followed was actually an old Indian trail, not much more than two wagon wheel ruts in the ground.

  There were no incidents with Indians, for the settlers in East Texas had resolved that problem. In only a few short years, there would be no Indians left in East Texas except for a few peaceful Alabama and Coushatta. Jamie felt certain they would have trouble with the Kiowa and Comanche once they left San Antonio, but he was not expecting any trouble until then.

  At the trading post, they bought a few supplies, exchanged pleasantries with the people there, and moved on. Jamie set a leisurely pace, for all knew they were seeing this country for the last time. Except for Jamie, they were also seeing it for the first time.

  At a trading post on the Colorado, later to be known as La Grange, Jamie halted the wagons and they spent a couple of nights. Again they resupplied, talked with the people there, and rested. Most of the citizens had heard of Jamie MacCallister and many questioned him about the Alamo. He answered their questions patiently and truthfully. But it was painful for him, for the memories of Jim Bowie, Bill Travis, Davy Crockett, and the others were fresh in his mind, and it still rankled him that the editor of the paper would not
print Bowie’s last statement.

  Several weeks after leaving the Big Thicket country, Jamie led the wagons onto the road that would take them to San Antonio and Jamie instantly felt suspicions seize him. He halted the wagons and sat his saddle for several moments, looking at the trail stretching out before him.

  While the others chatted and rested by the road, Hannah came to him and he swung down from the saddle to stand beside her.

  “What’s wrong, Jamie?”

  “I don’t know,” he spoke the words softly. “But I sense trouble ahead.”

  “You’re certain that Tall Bull was dead?” she questioned in a whisper.

  “Yes. But I don’t know about Little Wolf. I know that I shot him. But whether it was a killing shot... I don’t know.”

  “Is there anything between here and San Antonio?”

  “Walnut Springs. Just a trading post and a few cabins.”

  “It would be like Little Wolf to ambush us at the very spot where his father died.”

  “That’s my thinking, Hannah.”

  Together, they walked back to the wagons, Jamie leading his horse. “I hope I’m wrong,” Jamie told them. “But I think we’re going to have some trouble when we near the Guadalupe River. Two days from now.”

  “Little Wolf?” Kate asked.

  “Yes. It sounds silly, I know, but I have this... feeling. So from now on, keep the kids in the wagons and no walking alongside. Load up the extra weapons and keep them handy.” He looked at Sam and Swede. “When, or if, the attack comes, it will come silently and swiftly. There will be no warning. If Little Wolf survived that fight, he’s banded with other Indians. Maybe renegades. If that’s the case, they’ll be more vicious and cruel than anything any of you have ever seen. They’ll be looking not just to kill me, but to take prisoners alive for torture. I don’t have to tell you women what lies in store for you if you’re taken. Hannah has made that perfectly clear to all of you. Little Wolf, if he’s alive, is quite mad. That makes him doubly dangerous. Let’s go. Close the wagons up and keep them tight. Lookouts keep a sharp eye out for anything unusual. Call out if you see anything that looks suspicious.”