Chapter 2

We spent a warm night out in the swamp, waving away mosquitoes because we were too concerned about making noise to swat them. Way off in the distance, I heard alligators grunting. I reckoned that they weren’t as concerned as us. But nothing important happened that night, despite us spooking at every close-by rustle of the reeds when a coon or some other critter passed by.

We were all hungry next morning, but there were blackberries in every clearing, ripe and as long and thick as the end of my thumb. We ate as many as we thought safe, knowing that too many will give a man the runs. There were also more frogs in that swamp than a body could ever catch, so I knowed we wouldn’t starve.

Isom knew how to capture them by splitting the small end of a cane pole back to the first joint, then carefully carving a kind of spike behind the sharpened points so the frog couldn’t wiggle his way off. It worked on a cottonmouth too, but I left that one to Tom and Isom to eat. I was a mite hungry, but not that hungry!

When I was sure we were alone, I gave Tom permission to build a fire while I kept watch to make sure I hadn’t missed anything. A body can’t be too careful, Uncle Harry had said, but I wondered. Maybe he hadn’t been careful enough?

After Tom got the fire going, they cooked what they’d caught while I headed afoot back to where I’d last seen my uncle and my cousins. Took me the best part of two hours, because I was being careful, but I homed on buzzards circling in the sky and found my uncle and my cousins.

The Mexicans had hung their dead bodies from a tree limb as a warning to others.

Uncle Harry had been shot several times, including one that had taken off part of his skull. Matt had also been shot and either lanced or knifed in the body, while Mark had died from having his throat cut after he’d been shot.

I cut them down and was trying to figure what to do with the bodies when Tom and Isom slipped out of the woods. “You keep watch, Marse Jake. We’ll take care of your uncle and his boys. There ain’t no reason to go back to where we wuz; we swung by where we’d left the packs on the way here and they were gone, the mules too. I reckon the Mexicans found them, which might be why they didn’t come looking for us.”

My throat was tight, so I just nodded my gratitude to Tom and went off to the far side of the clearing to do what he’d said.

I watched the leaves and Spanish moss hang sad from the trees while they scraped out shallow graves by the side of the trail. It was more than I could have done, working by myself without no shovel, and after they were finished we mounted up and headed south down a deer trail.

I didn’t feel like talking and I reckon they didn’t either. They’d known Uncle Harry and my cousins a lot longer than I had, depended on them just like I had and like we had depended on each other during the trips. A part of their lives had ended when my uncle was killed, just like part of mine had. There had still been a little bit of being a kid in me up to yesterday, a sense of adventure and more than a little bravado because we were outwitting the Mexican authorities. Now, whatever was left of that was back there in that lonely clearing where Tom and Isom had buried my folks.

A lot of responsibility had landed on my shoulders, so I done a lot of thinking while I rode along. I scanned the trail and the woods, but I also watched my horse’s ears. I knowed that he would spot trouble before I would. I didn’t have a lot of choices, and the ones I had weren’t worth thinking about. I glanced back a time or two at Tom and Isom, wondering if they were as worried as I was, but if they were they didn’t show it so I didn’t either.

By and by, I straightened up and tried to look like I knew where we were going. Boys can shuck worries, but a man faces up to his responsibilities. He’s allowed to worry, I reckon—I certainly did—but I didn’t show it, any more than Uncle Harry would have. The thought came on, all surprising. Had Uncle Harry ever worried like I was doing? And never allowed it to show, so that I wouldn’t have to worry?

I missed him already, my cousins too.

There would be no forgetting what those Mexican soldiers had done to their bodies. I felt like cussing and had thoughts of someday doing to them what they’d done to my family, but it was only idle thoughts trying to chase bad memories away. Underneath was the knowing that they did what they did because we did what we did, and there was an end to it.

Later that afternoon, I heard turkeys gobbling up ahead.

A rifle might be accurate enough to fetch a turkey, but an old smoothbore musket? Half a dozen shot would do reliably what a ball wouldn’t, so I drew the ball from my musket and reloaded with shot. That done, I checked the cap to make sure it hadn’t shifted while I worked. Hungry as we were, it wouldn’t do to be careless!

Finally, as ready as I was ever going to get, I snuck up closer to the turkeys. Seemed like these had never been hunted before; they weren’t nearly as spooky as the ones over in Louisiana! I shot a big old gobbler and he barely kicked after he fell out of that nesting tree.

Isom drew the entrails while I reloaded with powder and ball, and he carried the turkey when we rode on south looking for a place to hide.

A mile further on, I spotted the entrance to a thicket that looked about as good as any. Tom started a fire while Isom headed for a nearby creek and cut several canes that were thick enough to hold the meat while it cooked. Even without salt, that turkey tasted far better than what we’d eaten the night before, and hungry as we were we ate him down to the bone. While we relaxed after supper, I shared my thinking with Tom and Isom.

“We’d have been asking for trouble if we’d gone on to San Augustine. No telling where those soldiers went. They might have loaded the packs on our mules and sold them to the same people we figured to sell to, but they also might have split up and only sent one or two in. The rest could still be out there patrolling.” Tom nodded understanding, so I went on.

“Even if we got there, we wouldn’t find friends. Leal and Nolan were Uncle Harry’s business partners, but they’re not ours because we don’t have anything to trade. For that matter, they might be dead by now, because buying smuggled cargoes is likely just as illegal as bringing them in. Heading back east is out too. I expect we got caught because the ferryman warned that detachment to watch for us, maybe by sending a rider. Slow as the mules were, he would have had plenty of time to reach them and let them know we were coming. As for going north, I have no idea what’s up that way but I’ve heard that the Indians aren’t friendly.

“That leaves south, all the way to Galveston. Uncle Henry needs to know what happened to his brother and nephews. Another thing, he’s captain of his own ship so he might have a job for me, or at least be able to tell me where to start looking. What do you think?”

“What about us, Marse Jake?” asked Tom softly.

“I got a duty to care for you,” I admitted, “You’ve been like family, but being honest, I ain’t sure I can even take care of myself. All I can promise is that I’ll do my best. We’re in Texas and slavery’s against the law here, just like it is in the rest of Mexico, meaning that you’re free to go your own way and take your chances if that’s your choice. Galveston is a pretty big place from what I hear. You could get jobs there and I think you’d be safe.

“Tom, I don’t know if it will help, but as soon as we get somewhere that I can find paper and pen I’ll write out a statement that you bought freedom for yourself and your family. Over here, probably no one will question it. Shucks, you might not ever be asked to show it. But if you head back to Louisiana, I just don’t know what would happen.”