Custer and Crockett Page 4

  Our wagons finished the climb from the ford, and the artillery pieces were placed below the bastion aimed at the village where Fannin was reorganizing his evicted army. Lieutenant Sepulveda and his Zacatecan militia would keep a close watch on our former allies. A few minutes later, I saw our civilian contingent arriving, Slow in the lead riding Vic followed by Isabella and Morning Star on their spirited mares. Kellogg was with them, no doubt telling of his adventure to Gonzales.

  Señor Erasmo Seguin, a short but stout don in his early fifties, was driving a two-wheeled cart pulled by a cooperative donkey. Ten of his vaqueros rode alongside him. Seguin waved when he saw me on the wall, the smile reminding me of my father. Hughes took down Fannin’s banner and replaced it with our own, a white flag with a large black buffalo embroidered in the middle.

  ____________

  My regimental staff took over the headquarters, settling the women in the officer’s quarters where the large fireplace would keep the room warm. Our servants moved next to the kitchen, cooking scrounged victuals. The first action I decided on was to rename Fort Defiance back to Presidio de La Bahia, for I would not defend a monument to Fannin’s arrogance.

  “Not a bad post,” Tom said as I began a tour of the compound.

  “Not good, either,” Cooke said, making notes in his memo pad.

  “Good for holding off a small force. Or Indians,” I speculated. “Hard to defend against a professional army. Should we blow it up?”

  “No need for that,” Cooke said. “If a Mexican force takes it, we can always take it back. If we want it. In the meantime, La Bahia is a valuable relay post between San Antonio and the coast.”

  I nodded agreement. The fort posed no threat to my anticipated operations, and could still prove an asset. And with west Texas being largely a wasteland threatened by the Comanche, the local population still needed such protections.

  “We’ll rest here until the wounded can be moved,” I decided. “Have Seguin send out his scouts. It would be nice to know what our enemies are doing.”

  I walked the entire perimeter of the fort, inspecting the near empty warehouses, studying the stone bastions, and even spent a few minutes in the old church, where I noticed Slow speaking with a Spanish priest. By late afternoon, we saw Fannin’s men drifting off to the east. The New Orleans Greys were going with him.

  “Sorry, General,” Major Baugh said, carrying his backpack.

  He alone had come to explain his departure. The rest of Fannin’s command was skulking off into the woods. Baugh handed back the Colt .45 I had given him.

  “Leaving us?” I asked, tucking the pistol in my belt.

  “‘Fraid so, sir. The boys think we should stick with our own,” Baugh said.

  “John, I came to admire you at the Alamo. You’re a brave man,” I said, shaking his hand.

  “Wish I could stay, sir,” he replied.

  “Don’t get caught in arms against the Seventh,” Tom warned with a frown. “Best tell your friends, too.”

  “Appreciate the advice, Colonel,” Baugh said, doffing his cap and walking off.

  Tom and I went back inside, finding space in Fannin’s office. Our men were using the abandoned barracks, making fires and catching chickens for dinner. Angry gray clouds were threatening another storm.

  “Thought they’d stay for the gold, if nothing else,” I said.

  “What gold?” Tom said.

  “The gold in California.”

  “Ain’t no gold in California, Autie. Lest, that’s what Bill and I have been whispering around.”

  “Why would you do that?” I asked. “It was our best hope of recruiting an army.”

  “And when thousands of men flock to California looking for gold, how do we control them?” Tom answered. “How many prospectors rushed west in 1849? Ten thousand? Twenty thousand? Fifty thousand?”

  “They don’t know where to look,” I argued.

  “Best we get there first. That’s what Bill and I think. And it may be awhile if we’re stuck here in Texas fighting Santa Anna and Sam Houston.”

  “One problem at a time, Tommy. Try not to scare off the rest of our recruits.”

  Raindrops started falling. Isabella and Morning Star entered the office with hot cups of coffee. Isabella draped a warm blanket over my shoulders. I gave her a quick kiss. In the main room, Slow and Señor Seguin were sitting before the fire hovering over a chessboard. I doubt Slow had ever seen such a game. Señor Seguin was giving him lessons.

  “Mr. Fannin has left?” Isabella asked.

  “Yeah, and took his army of traitors with him,” Tom grumbled, sorry not to have shot him when we had the chance.

  “General Urrea has withdrawn, also. Looks like we have La Bahia to ourselves,” I said.

  “Supper’s ready, General,” Ben announced from the kitchen door.

  “Thank you, Mr. Travane,” I answered, smelling a stew.

  Ben’s cooking skills were no accident. He had served as a steward on Atlantic trade ships, come to Mexico from Washington D.C. with Colonel Almonte, and was supervising Santa Anna’s household when we first met in San Antonio. Stout, bald and a little gray, some thought Ben a former slave, but he was born a free man. After the Alamo, I had made Ben a sergeant and put him in charge of my commissary.

  I took a seat at the table as John rushed to serve my meal. It was a thick vegetable stew with bits of chicken. The spoon was made of silver, engraved with a silver cross on the handle.

  “Did you win the battle?” Morning Star asked, serving Tom herself.

  Tom looked up. The long scar on his jaw, from a Confederate bullet at Sailor’s Creek, crinkled when he offered a tired grin.

  Tom and I had met Morning Star, a charming nineteen-year-old beauty, on a cold Texas plain just after our miraculous transition from 1876 to 1836. Her family was being attacked by marauding buffalo hunters when Tom boldly rode to their rescue. We also saved her grandmother Walking-In-Grass, her cousins Spotted Eagle and Gray Wolf, and her younger brother, Slow. These wandering Sioux had ridden with us ever since. Gray Wolf was killed standing next to me at Cibolo Creek, the victim of a Mexican bullet.

  “We didn’t lose. Hard to say we won anything. Seems Urrea was just trying to slow us down,” Tom said.

  “I see Santa Anna’s hand in this,” Señor Seguin said, coming to sit with us.

  Crockett and Autry arrived, sitting together at the end of the table.

  “How would that be?” I asked.

  “The dictator will regroup at Copano, then move along the coast where his ships can keep him supplied,” Seguin explained. “Today was a message. If we continue south, we can be fought at every river crossing. We will grow weaker as he grows stronger.”

  “’Specially with Fannin’s boys runnin’ out on us,” Autry said.

  “Takin’ up military science, Miciagh?” Crockett asked.

  “Just sayin’,” Autry replied, stuffing his mouth with a tortilla.

  “Gots to be hard on these Southern boys, findin’ fellow ’mericans standin’ a’gin ’em,” Crockett said.

  “What about these other forces? Ward and King?” I asked, for my knowledge of them was vague.

  “Defeated, though it seems Fannin hasn’t gotten the news yet,” Kellogg said, entering from the kitchen with a plate of tortillas. That he wasn’t sharing.

  Kellogg could be annoying, but his knowledge of Texas history had proven valuable. As a reporter for the Bismarck Tribune, and by proxy, the New York Herald, he’d had the luxury of studying western lore while I was making it.

  “Captured?” Tom asked.

  “Mostly. Some executed. Some got away. A few were supposed to be brought here and die with Fannin. Don’t know what Urrea will do with them now,” Kellogg explained, sitting next to Crockett.

  “Your news from Gonzales?” I inquired.

  “Far as I know, Houston is still there with about two hundred volunteers. They’d just heard about the Alamo,” Kellogg said. “Houston didn’t really b
elieve Santa Anna had been defeated, though. Figures it’s some kind of trick. They also weren’t too happy about you and Crockett nullifying their declaration of independence.”

  “Too bad for them,” Tom said, finding a bottle of wine and several glasses.

  “I tried to ask Houston what he was going to do, but they called me a spy. Gave me twenty minutes to clear out. Heard you were headed for Goliad and thought I’d best report in,” Kellogg explained.

  “Think Houston will move on San Antonio?” I asked.

  “Not likely. He’s low on supply. Volunteers are untrained,” Crockett said.

  “My guess is Old Sam will fall back behind the Brazos. Maybe try an’ find some artillery,” Autry suggested.

  “I hope you’re right. Just in case, we better send a messenger to Harrington,” Tom decided. “Green Jameson and Sergeant Major Sharrow may have less time to fortify Béjar than they know.”

  After dinner, we settled down in the main room enjoying the warmth of the large fireplace. Isabella sat next to me on a fur rug. Tom and Morning Star nestled in the corner. Señor Seguin and Slow were once again at the chessboard, shadows from the fire dancing off the pieces.

  “You grasp this quickly, young man,” Erasmo praised, though the two games they played were really no contest.

  Slow looked over to me, his brows scrunched as if with a question, but declined to speak. When Señor Seguin turned in, Slow rearranged the chess board and waved me over.

  “The old one is wise, but he does not understand war,” Slow said, adjusting two rooks.

  “He’s a very good player. I’ve only beaten him once,” I responded.

  “In this chess, there are only two opponents.”

  “That’s the way it’s played,” I said.

  “In war, there are many enemies. Do you not have many enemies?”

  “Yes, there are many.”

  Slow moved several black pieces, then several white pieces, and added half a dozen brown pieces from another set, forming three groups.

  “If the white attacks the brown, the black will win. If the white attacks the black, the brown will win,” he said, pushing pieces back and forth. “It is like the Seventh Cavalry. If you attack one of your enemies, the other enemy will win.”

  “I don’t think it’s that simple,” I said, staring at the confused board.

  “Then you are not thinking,” Slow replied.

  That night, Crockett and I shared the commandant’s office, laying our blankets out near the hearth, for it was cold.

  “Guess I should sort of apologize,” Crockett said, using a stack of worn blankets as a mattress. The bear hunter’s bones were chilled. I hardly had more than a thin fur between me and the slate floor.

  “What for, David?” I asked.

  “Kinda misjudged Fannin. Believed them letters he wrote us.”

  “I’ve got a hunch he’s not the only one we’ll have trouble with. Your friends in Tennessee may not take kindly to you riding with abolitionists,” I said, trying to be gentle, for I’d had many comrades at West Point faced with a similar dilemma. Most had chosen wrong.

  “Know’in what’s a comin’, don’t see how it kin be no different,” Crockett said. “I wouldn’t be no kind of man if I let my country fall into civil war. Have armies marchin’ through all over, burnin’ farms and killin’ folk. Maybe it’s you who got the burr?”

  “Me?”

  “You was right optimistic in San Antone. Thought we’d march through Texas like shit through a goose. Now ya knows it ain’t gonna be so easy. Maybe ya gots to think it through a bit?”

  “Yeah, a bit,” I admitted, rolling over for some sleep. My dreams were troubled, but at least there was no grassy hill.

  Like the warriors of the People, the white men often challenge too many enemies and still expect victory. Yet foolishness in war is of little help to the families left behind. Wisdom dictates caution in battle, for is it not our women and children that we fight for? But to be a warrior is a great thing. I could not tell if Yellow Hair’s vision of glory exceeded his grasp, for his vision was addled by a Strong Heart’s ambition.

  .

  La Bahia, aka Fort Defiance, by Chadwick, 1836

  Chapter Two

  TOO MANY FLAGS

  As was my habit, I made my rounds of the fort just after dawn. Most of the men were still sleeping. Eight guards were on duty, two on each of the four corners. I visited the horses, checked their feed, and woke Sergeant Howell, the regimental saddler, to order Traveller some new tack. While walking back to my headquarters, I encountered another early riser.

  “General Custer, may I speak with you for a moment?” Colonel Almonte requested, approaching with another young Mexican officer.

  “Of course, Juan. Who is your friend?” I asked.

  Though Almonte agreed to ride with us, he had done so with reluctance. Nevertheless, I liked him. And trusted his judgment. He also reminded me a little bit of Tom. And Bill Cooke. And Fresh Smith. They were all similar in age, measured in temperament, and experienced soldiers.

  “This is Colonel Jose Enrique de la Peña from Jalisco. He has been keeping a journal of our campaign,” Almonte said. “He has an idea that may interest you.”

  “Me encantaría escuchar su idea, señor,” I said, anxious to practice my diction.

  “Many in Mexico are unhappy with the dictator,” de la Peña responded in English. “I was thinking. I could write letters to newspapers in Mexico City. To important members of Congress. Explain that the Seventh Cavalry is not in league with the American pirates attempting to steal Texas.”

  The young colonel appeared to be a straightforward, intelligent fellow, with a pleasant continence. I dwelled on his suggestion for a moment before seeing its value. And some broader implications.

  “I would find that a worthy service, Señor,” I agreed. “Though there must be some requirements.”

  “Yes, Señor Custer?” de la Peña asked.

  “You must tell our friends to the south that these are uncertain times,” I said, trying to rapidly organize my thoughts. “Say nothing to embarrass President Santa Anna, for his enmity at this time would be inconvenient. And say nothing of the Seventh Cavalry being ghost riders. Such rumors will spread on their own, but I have no intention of promoting them.”

  “The dictator’s hold on power is weak now that he has been defeated. Enemies will seek his overthrow,” de la Peña said.

  “Santa Anna still has a large army in the field,” I replied. “Until I know his plans, there’s no point in provoking him further.”

  “That is a cautious approach, General,” Almonte said with surprise. It surprised me, too.

  “Write some letters and show them to Major Cooke. He’ll provide you with instructions,” I decided. “And thank you again.”

  As the fort was beginning to stir, I walked across the compound back to my headquarters looking forward to breakfast. Isabella greeted me at the door wearing a lush red woolen coat with a fur collar. It helped to have a wealthy father.

  “Good morning, Autie,” Isabella said.

  I looked into the main room and saw twelve at our board, including Tom, Morning Star and Slow. Ben had whipped up a dish of rice and chicken in a strange red sauce that was simply delicious.

  “Good morning, Izzy,” I said, taking her in my arms for a passionate kiss.

  Everyone was surprised, especially Isabella, for we had kept our relationship free of public display. I no longer felt so constrained. Before the quiet hearth sat the chessboard that Slow had set up the night before, it’s message clear. Tom, Crockett, and even the Indian boy had sought to tell me something, but in my desire for a quick victory, I had refused to listen.

  “Nice to finally rest up for a few days,” Tom said, eating heartily.

  Morning Star sat next to him dressed in a long beaded dress made of course blue cloth, probably found in one of the abandoned adobes. I saw a question in her eyes that troubled her.

  “Rest d
ay for some, Tom,” I replied, taking a seat across from Crockett and Cooke.

  “We need to rest the horses,” Tom said.

  “And the men,” Cooke added, his accent more upstate New York than British.

  “Don’t worry, I have no plans to move out. Not for a week or two. But we have planning to do,” I said.

  They had been worried that I would order an immediate pursuit of the Mexican army, but I had no such intentions.

  “This here presidio is a right more comfortable than that Alamo,” Crockett said, dressed casually in a flannel shirt and rawhide trousers. He wore a red scarf similar to my own. “Reckon it would make a good base of operations?”

  “Not a bad idea, David, but only for a small detachment,” I replied, having reached certain conclusions. “I’m going to take three companies. Tom, you’ll have command of C Company. Smith will bring E Company. Bill, Almonte and Kellogg will serve with my headquarters staff. Captain Sepulveda will lead G Company. Everyone else will return to San Antonio.”

  “Béjar?” Crockett said in surprise.

  “Jameson and Sharrow are fortifying the town. You and Keogh will help them. Train recruits and maintain a forward guard here in La Bahia.”

  “Thirty-two men from Gonzales rode into the Alamo at a time of great need. Now it be thar homes needin’ protection. Maybe we kin return the favor?” Crockett suggested.

  “Speak with Keogh about it,” I agreed.

  “We’re not marching south?” Cooke asked.

  “Not with the army. For now, the Buffalo Flag will hold west Texas and watch for developments. Gather all the wagons, oxen and mules you can find. Fatten them up, they have a long journey ahead,” I said.

  “What have you got in mind, Autie?” Tom asked.

  “California,” I answered.

  Isabella and Morning Star didn’t know what to make of my remark, but the men smiled. Not one of us from the original command had forgotten the bonanza laying in the Sierra Nevada foothills, but other obligations had gotten in our way. Like Crockett, Dickenson, Brister and others, the women had heard stories of California, but no one in dirt poor Texas could imagine the immense riches waiting to be discovered.