“About fifty men, Colonel,” Jamie reported. “I only saw one officer. But that officer has spies all over the settlement. One approached me.”
“You obviously convinced him you were not involved in any skullduggery.”
“I believe so.”
“Good. Ride with me at the head of the column. We’re on the march.”
On June the 29th, 1835, Colonel William Barret Travis and his small army, rode up to within shelling distance of the garrison in Anahuac and sent Jamie, under a white flag of truce, to relay a message.
“And that message is?” the officer in charge said with a sneer.
“Surrender, senor,” Jamie told him.
The Mexican commander spat on the ground by Jamie’s feet. “There is your reply. Come the dawning, I will see you all dead!”
“I doubt it. But gracias anyway.” Jamie walked back to his horse and returned to Colonel Travis with the message.
“Make ready the cannon!” Travis ordered.
The cannonball crashed into the compound without killing anyone but scaring the hell out of everyone. The Mexican officer was certain that this tiny force was the vanguard of a much larger force and immediately ran up the white flag of surrender.
Travis rode up to the gate. “Stack your arms and deliver them to us. Tomorrow, at first light, you and your command will leave Texas.”
“Si, senor!” the officer said.
As he watched them leave just after dawn, Jamie wondered if all wars were as easily won as this one?
* * *
When Travis and his victorious force returned to San Felipe, they found, much to their surprise, that the majority of people there had suddenly had a change of heart and were soundly condemning Travis’s actions at the Mexican garrison.
“You acted in haste!” one clearly frightened citizen told the startled Travis. “We could all be wiped out because of your brashness.”
Travis was furious, but managed to contain his anger when a committee from the town wrote a letter of apology to the commander of the small garrison at Anahuac. He even kept his temper in check when that same committee demanded that he do the same. He finally wrote the note of apology, but those that knew him could clearly see that beneath the words, it was definitely tongue in cheek. Jamie knew then that the seemingly straight-laced Travis had a wicked sense of humor.
Jamie kept in touch with Kate and his friends back in the thicket by posting letters to the village of San Augustine whenever he could, which was not often, for Travis had him riding all over the south part of Texas, gathering little tidbits of information. For the first time since leaving the Big Thicket, Jamie felt he was finally doing something worthwhile, both for the independence movement and for himself.
Jamie was learning the country and the people who lived there. Since he had mastered Spanish, he moved easily among the Spanish and the Anglos. Several times he encountered bands of Kiowa and Comanche on his lonely rides. But he was not attacked by them. Like Houston, the Indians knew Jamie was a friend if they would let him be, and they did, reluctantly, even though the Comanches were probably the most hated of all Indians in Texas . . . much of that hatred richly deserved, for the Comanche and their allies, the Kiowa, certainly earned the name savage in their wars against the white settlers. They butchered their way through Texas history, until the Texans finally had enough of it and very nearly wiped them out; those that were left were placed on reservations up in Indian Territory, an area that would later become Oklahoma.
“Man Who Is Not Afraid just might be a fool!” one Comanche chief told Jamie one hot afternoon.
“And Big Bear just might not live out this day if he does not watch his words,” Jamie retorted. Jamie knew only too well that the Indian admired and respected courage, if nothing else. If he showed one second of fear, they would kill him on the spot. Jamie also knew that the chief — actually a subchief — was watching the muzzle of Jamie’s carbine, which was pointed directly at the Indian’s chest.
The Comanche grunted. “I think you would die well, but not on this day.” He led his band away in a swirling cloud of dust.
Jamie rode on, toward San Antonio.
After bathing and shaving, Jamie walked through the streets of the town. San Antonio was the largest town in Texas at the time, boasted more than two thousand citizens. Jamie enjoyed his first meal cooked by someone other than himself in days, and watched the passing parade of colorfully dressed men and women. But his eyes kept drifting to an old mission some distance away. He felt somehow drawn to the church. Finishing his drink, he walked over to the mission and stood for a moment by the entrance of the south gate.
“It’s the Mission of San Antonio de Valero, senor,” a nan told him. “People around here call it The Alamo.”
Twenty-six
As Jamie rode, he stopped often and listened. If the talk was favorable, he quietly told the men to keep their weapons handy and lay in a stock of powder and shot. And Jamie was amazed that nearly everyone he talked with knew of him and his exploits.
General Cos was loudly demanding that Colonel Travis be arrested and handed over to him for the raid at Anahuac. Wrong thing to demand as far as the Texans were concerned. If they wanted to chastise Travis for acting impudently, that was all right. He was one of them. But to hand Travis over for a Mexican firing squad was out of the question.
General Cos retaliated by starting a steady flow of troops into Texas. This, Jamie saw personally and he beat it back to San Felipe to tell Travis.
“How many did you see, Jamie?”
“Several companies, at least.”
Travis nodded his head. “Bonham has just returned from near the border. This only reinforces what he heard. That General Cos is preparing to enter Texas with several battalions of Mexican regulars. War is very close, Jamie. Take some time off and return to your family. Stay a few days, a few days only, Jamie, and then report back here.”
Jamie took two spare mounts and hardly stopped until he reached Kate’s side.
His friends left them alone for the first day, but on the second day, everybody came over, hungry for news.
“I’ll tell you what I know,” Jamie said, after everyone had their drinks and was settled down in the yard. The only movement was the occasional batting and swatting at a mosquito. “There will be another convention — at least one is called for. But I doubt there will be time for it. According to both Travis and Bowie, war is on our heels. This will probably be the last time I’ll be back for several months, at least. Perhaps longer. Probably longer.”
It was August 1835.
“Tell us about the army, Jamie,” Hannah urged. “It must be a grand sight.”
Jamie smiled. How to tell them Texas was about to enter into a war and so far, he’d seen no sign of any organized army? He’d been told that Houston and Fannin did have men. But they were poorly organized. “And, Houston and Fannin have quarreled on more than one occasion,” Jamie told them. “Bowie told me that Fannin wanted to be a general. Houston made him settle for a colonelcy. It isn’t that people aren’t really getting along — the quarrels are minor — it’s just that everything is so disorganized. That’s got a lot of people worried.”
The friends talked well into the night, and then departed. Kate said, “I have clean clothes all ready for you, Jamie. Puts His Foot Down brought you new moccasins and leggin’s that his wife made for you. Hannah made you a new pair of gloves. And Juan sent over a nice serape for you. It will be warm this winter.” She broke down then, and came into his arms.