Chapter 13

I was dog-tired, but I kept pushing on. There were more deaths, but now they were almost all old people who’d reached their limits and just given up.

I’d been keeping an eye on two widows over the past two weeks. Both had lost husbands during the Bexar fighting and now, it seemed like they’d just given up. Sibby Leonard was gaunt to the point of emaciation, and Elizabeth Yocum was only a little better. Day by day, they lost a little more weight and weakened a little bit more. I wanted to help, but there was nothing I could do. Sibby died first, Eliza passed two days later. We buried them, I said a few words over their graves, no longer needing to read from the Bible because I’d said them so many times, and we rolled on.

I had no way of being sure of the date, but judging by what the plants were doing, I figured it had to be April. Shiny green leaves covered the trees and back in the shaded areas, small violets bloomed. Dewberries were already beginning to ripen and the larger, sweeter blackberries would follow soon after, as would wild plums.

I rode past the wagons on a horse that was as exhausted as I was, as we all were. What if we paused long enough for people and animals to recover? Up ahead was another stream, either a creek or bayou to be forded as soon as we crossed the next low ridge, or maybe a river. I had heard of the Navasota, but I couldn’t be sure if this was it, and I wished that I knew more about this part of the republic. I figured it was too small to be the Neches, which I had crossed only five years ago.

Back then, I’d been scared stiff at the idea of being responsible for two men who, looking back, had been better prepared than me. Now? Almost a hundred women and their kids, plus a couple of old men, looked to me to protect them and a mighty weak reed I was for them to lean on.

I had tried my best for the ones who hadn’t made it this far, and failed. But maybe, just maybe, I could save the others. I caught up to Jean-Louis and told him what I had in mind.

He agreed that the people desperately needed to stop and rest, but worried that we were too close to safety to give up. Yet if Santa Anna was far enough behind us, it might be worth the risk. We talked it over and decided that the only way to tell was to send scouts back to sniff along our trail, and if the Mexican Army was close come back and warn us.

He picked Gus Smith and Thaddeus Jones, because they had the two best horses. “Ride back along our trail for about half a day, maybe a little longer,” I said, “and find a place to lay up. If you spot Santa Anna’s scouts, I’m depending on you to let us know how much time we’ve got. Whatever happens, one of you has to get back with the news!”

“I understand, Captain,” Gus said grimly. “More’n likely it will be Thad here because to tell you the truth, I’m plumb tired of running away. If I can get Santa Anna in my rifle sights, I’ll be thinking of my little Sally when I blow his damned head off.”

I wanted to say something, but there was nothing to say, for I’d said what was needed two weeks back on the trail. This time, there had been a few early flowers to mark her little grave, white prickly-poppies at the head and purple verbena for the foot. The ones who’d died before her, we’d had no way of doing anything but giving the bodies decent burial and a cross to mark the grave before heading on.

“You want to borrow my rifle, Gus? I reckon it’s got more reach and if you hit him, that .54 caliber ball will do more damage than your .40 caliber will.”

“I’ll take it, Captain, and thanks. If I don’t make it back...”

“I’ll see to your family, Gus.”

He nodded and the two men gigged their tired horses into a lope, heading southwest.

I called Jean-Louis in closer, where the rest wouldn’t overhear. “I reckon I’ve killed too many of our people, Jean-Louis. I just can’t face up to killing any more. Soon as we get across that river, I’ve made up my mind to camp behind the first big grove of trees and spend at least a day resting up. I figure there’s more than enough game around to give everybody a good feed and I’ll bet the youngsters can catch some fish, which will also help. There’s plenty of grass for the animals—we fed the last of the corn from that abandoned farm two days ago—but grass this rank will put a little flesh on them.

“Your men need rest too, but we’re still in Indian country, either the Wacos or maybe the Choctaws, so they’re going to need to stay alert. I don’t know exactly where one tribe’s hunting grounds ends and the other one’s starts, and maybe they don’t know themselves but they’re apt to be touchy. This is prime hunting season for them, at least in this part of Texas. I hear they stock up after winter before they head toward the plains. Anyway, they’re liable to be out prowling around and they’ll steal horses anytime they can. Stand down half of the men for a couple of hours, and after they’ve had a chance to rest, switch them for the others.”

He nodded and went off to talk to his hunters.

Late that afternoon, five riders rode in on played-out horses.

The womenfolk still had half an elk left over from the day before, so they finished butchering it and stirred up the coals. By the time the meat was cooked enough to not wear out their teeth, there was cornbread from breakfast that they’d warmed in a Dutch oven. While they ate, they gave us what news they had.

“Santa Anna isn’t following you folks, at least not yet. Sam Houston and his boys headed more to the south and Santa Anna’s been on his trail since he left San Felipe. Yesterday, the fifteenth of April it was, he showed up at Harrisburg and burned us out. Might have been because he hadn’t caught up to Sam, or he might have done it from pure meanness. I don’t reckon it matters.

“Sam’s men are fit to be tied because he won’t let ‘em fight, ‘cept for a little skirmish now and then. For all I know, they may have run him out of camp by now. We figure the only way they’re going to get away from that Mexican army is either swim or learn to fly, and they ain’t got much time to learn how to do either one.

“A week from now, Santa Anna will own Texas, and he ain’t taking prisoners. That’s why we left. We’ve got family up near Nacogdoches and friends across the Sabine in Natchitoches. We figure to take our families across on the ferry and fort up on the other side, maybe shoot a few when they come up to the river.”

“We heard about him not taking prisoners,” I told him, “but as I remember, there’s a big thicket between him and us. His army will have to turn around and circle back before they can come up to Nacogdoches. How much farther do you reckon before we get there?”

“Three days if you hurry, longer if you don’t. We’d admire to travel with you, if that’s where you’re going, and if you’re willing to feed us we’ll do our share of what’s needful.”

“We can use the help, especially when we come up to the river,” Jean-Louis admitted. But later on, after they’d gone off to set up their own camp he told me that he intended to have a quiet talk with his hunters and scouts. “Jake, they may be just what they claim. But they might also be thieves, or worse, so I’m going to have a few men watching to keep them honest.”