by Drew McGunn
Crockett looked surprised. “Damned if the thought had ever crossed my mind, Buck. By all means, use the money and give our gunsmith the contract.”
As a hot gust of wind sent a few sheets of paper floating to the floor, Will retrieved them and asked, “What’s the latest on our request to replace our three schooners? My most recent reports say the Invincible and Brutus are still seaworthy, but the Liberty has been laid up in New Orleans, and isn’t worth repairing.”
Crockett spread his hands, as though they reflected the emptiness of the treasury. “I agree. In principal, Congress is with you on this. I know this begs credence, but even Robert Potter has agreed with you about the need to purchase new steam powered schooners from the United States. The challenge is, it’s going to cost us upwards of three hundred sixty thousand dollars. As the budget situation now stands, it will probably take us three years to fully upgrade the navy. But with any luck, by the summer of 1840, we’ll have our new fleet.”
Before Will could ask his next question, Crockett found an envelope he had been searching for on the cluttered table. He said, “Here it is. Been looking for that. I know what you’re about to ask. I was able to get Congress to agree to expand the army, too. But it’s going to take time. For the current budget year, they have agreed to expand the cavalry to three troops.”
He handed the envelope to Will, who opened it and pulled out two shoulder boards, with embroidered golden oak-leafs denoting the rank of major. “Give those to Juan Seguin, Buck. He’s definitely earned them.”
Will whistled appreciatively as he read the letter accompanying the insignia. “Forty-eight men per cavalry troop, and three troops. That should make defending the Nueces region a lot easier.”
“It should. You’ll get your ninth and tenth infantry companies over the next two years. And an extra battery of artillery by 1840.”
Will did the math in his head, “Aside from the Rangers, That’ll give us right at a thousand soldiers.” Another thought crossed his mind, “What’s that going to do to the budget?”
Crockett’s laughter was tinged with bitterness. “Nothing good, that’s for sure. Michel nearly choked when Congress agreed to the expansion.”
Will wondered how Michel Menard managed to keep paying the Republic’s bills, but the wily former Québécois seemed to balance the receipts and outlays like a master magician.
Like a medium reading minds, Crockett said, “If it hadn’t been for you and Erasmo cooking up your commodities scheme, I fear we’d been passing along chits we had no intention of paying. But if if not for the Commodities Bureau, the land bank and the cotton-backs circulating throughout the country, we’d be in worse shape than we are.”
As the day wore on, Will provided Crockett detailed numbers for the president to use in the next annual budget. The sun peeked through the westward facing window when Crockett threw a quill pen across the table. “Tarnation, Buck, I don’t see how you do it. If I see one more one or zero today, I’m going to bite its head off.”
As Will collected the pen from the end of the table, Crockett stood and stretched. “Enough of this. Liza and Becky have been cooking up a meal and I know at least one of them would be sorely disappointed if you didn’t stay for dinner.”
A warmth spread across Will’s face at the idea of seeing Becky again.
After a lively dinner of pork and beans with the Crocketts, Will found himself sitting on the porch, next to Becky, as the last light from the western sky disappeared. The silence stretched on, until he broke it. “I’m really looking forward to the Christmas party next year, Miss Rebecca. I’d dearly love to have the first dance with you again.”
“Damn! Damn! Damn!” Will thought, as he remembered how he managed to step on her toes throughout the dance.
Will thought he saw a shadow of a smile play across her face. “That is too kind of you. I think we know each other better than to be calling each other ‘General’ and ‘Miss.’ Please call me Becky, Will.” She paused, recalling the tribulation her feet were subjected to at that party the previous year. “I think I would be perfectly happy to sit with you while the peacocks flap their wings across the dance floor.”
While he was uncertain if he saw a smile cross her lips, his own split his face, as he placed his hand hesitantly and gently on hers, ready to retreat if she gave any hint at displeasure. His fingers tingled and sent goosebumps up his hand, when Becky responded by placing her other hand over his. She leaned against him and whispered, “I’m glad Pa came to Texas, and gladder still that Ma followed. I don’t want you to think I’m a forward girl by letting you take my hand, but I’m really glad you stayed for dinner, because I enjoy your company.”
Will left his hand covering hers, her breathy words sending waves of pleasure along his skin. He hadn’t felt this way since college, and Becky’s closeness felt good. He tilted his head, until it rested against hers. “I’m really glad you came out here, too, Becky.” He turned and planted a kiss on her cheek. What had begun in his heart on the dance floor of the Christmas party last year came to completion as he sat next to the slender young woman. He whispered, “Will you be my girl, Becky?”
She turned and despite the lack of light, Will saw her smile was writ large across her face. “Will, I’d do anything but dance with you.”
Behind them, the sound of the door squeaked, and a voice said, “Now, that’s a pretty sight, wouldn’t you say, Liza?”
Another softer voice replied, “Enough to melt my heart, David.”
Within a second several inches materialized between Will and Becky as they turned and saw Crockett and his wife standing in the doorway. Will leapt to his feet, “Ah, David. We didn’t see you there.”
Chuckling, Crockett said, “I’d rather figured that, Buck. Is there something you need to tell me and Becky’s mother?”
Blushing furiously under the gaze of the elder Crocketts, Will stammered, “Well, um, I’d consider it a real honor if, I, ah, could call upon your daughter, sir.”
Crockett’s chuckle slid into a belly laugh as the noise echoed into the night. “Oh, that’s rich. It’s always David this or David that. But now it’s sir. Buck, you beat all. Of course, you can call on my Becky, if she’s a mind to have you.”
Will glanced back at Becky as she playfully slapped her father’s arm. “Oh, Pa, don’t raise a ruckus. It’s bad enough when the neighbors raise a din, we don’t need to compete with them. And, of course Will can call on me. I’d not let anyone else kiss me on the cheek like that with you and ma in the next room.”
***
28th October 1838
Dearest Will,
I received your letter from 1st of the month, and was mighty glad to get it. I wish that they would hurry up and finish the move of the government to the new city of Austin. I was poor sorry to hear of Mr. Austin’s ship sinking when he was returning from Washington. Pa said he was a good man. It was only fitting the town should be named in his honor. Once we move, then I will be so much closer to you. Pa is always complaining about some congressman or senator, it is very funny. All of them are congresscritter this or that. You can scarce imagine how the town of Houston is growing, it has fair bumped up against Harrisburg, as to make one think both towns are but one. When we moved in with Pa, there were only a few other houses nearby. But now our nearest neighbor, we can hear when they’re having a row, and they fight all the time. Ma and me went shopping last week, and there are new stores with the latest fashion. I saw a pretty, pink dress all the way from Paris in one of the stores. It’s a caution! When you write me to me again, be sure to tell me what the ladies in San Antonio are wearing. I will wait eagerly for your next letter.
Affectionately yours,
Becky
30th of November 1838
My dearest Becky,
Every letter I receive from you causes me to want to jump on my horse and ride to Harrisburg straightaway to see you. I was dismayed when I read about the sinking of the Brutus with all hands in that terri
ble storm. Stephen Austin faithfully served Texas as minister to the U. States. I have been told the surveyors are done surveying the new city, and within a year, the government will move there. Of course, the president may conspire to keep me in the field, lest he lose his girl to the wiles of a frontier officer. It is funny, Texas is independent of the U. States, and yet we celebrate Thanksgiving, just like our friends and family back east. As such, I received an invitation to a Thanksgiving celebration held by Juan Seguin’s sister and brother-in-law. The ladies were dressed in reds, and blues and yellows. When they twirled in their men’s arms, the dresses flared up, like spinning parasols. Charlie told me the dresses looked like spindle tops.
Had I realized how much paperwork a general goes through I think I may have decided to become a simple cavalryman, with nothing to worry about. I will be taking Sid and Juan with me on a tour of our forts along the Rio Grande next month, and from there, we will travel to Galveston to inspect our forts there, and when I do, I will make sure to come by Harrisburg to call upon you.
Until then, I remain most affectionately yours,
Will
Chapter 17
He folded up the latest edition of the Telegraph and Texas Register, scowling as he pushed it to the side of the table. Henrietta set a steaming plate of grits and honey on the table in front of Will. There was seldom a day that passed by in which he wasn’t grateful to have Henrietta taking care of him and Charlie. As he scooped up a spoonful of grits, his scowl faded as he savored the taste.
“Yes, she is a far better cook than I will ever be,” he thought.
“Eat ‘em up, Gen’ral. You ain’t gonna sit in my kitchen all Saturday.” Henrietta’s smile was infectious. Charlie was devouring a plate of biscuits and gravy, one of his favorite meals. A school textbook was set next to his plate, where he would pause between bites to turn a page. The only thing missing, in Will’s opinion was Becky. His planned trip down to the coast was coming up soon, and part of him wanted nothing more than to scrap it all and go immediately to her and ask her to marry him.
Whenever his thoughts went to her, as they frequently did these days, it always made him long for Becky. So he tried setting the thought aside, as he heard Henrietta humming a tune behind him, as she began cleaning up a couple of pans. If there was a good place in Texas to be a former slave, San Antonio was probably it. While the influx of immigration was changing the demographics of the town, it was still majority Hispanic. In some respects, Tejano views on race were no less complicated than those held by the immigrants from the United States, but overall, they tended to treat freed blacks better than their white counterparts. It was true, rich Tejanos were nearly as likely to own slaves as their wealthy white neighbors. Erasmo Seguin was a case in point. Despite that, San Antonio, Will decided, was a better place to be a freedman than any other town in the Republic.
Will had plans to change that, for the better, he hoped. The entire institution of slavery rankled him, and he was determined to find a way to rid the Republic of this scourge. He just needed to figure out ways to diminish it and unwind Texas’ involvement from the horrid institution.
That thought brought him back to the article he had read in the newspaper. Defaults on farms had been climbing over the past year. According to the Telegraph nearly one of every ten farmers who bought land from the land bank over the past two years were in default or foreclosure. The article blamed the failure on spillover from the ongoing financial crisis in the United States and also pointed out the rate of foreclosures was still below the foreclosure rate back east.
As Charlie finished eating his breakfast, he asked, “Anything wrong, Pa?”
Will thought, “Between slavery and farm foreclosures, take your pick.”
Instead he said, “Set your schoolwork aside for a moment, Son, and read this article.” He unfolded the newspaper and slid it across the table, where Charlie studied the article.
After a few minutes, the boy finished reading and Will asked, “What do you think the writer was saying?”
The boy’s face grew thoughtful as he considered the question. “It sounds like lots of farmers are struggling to pay back the money the bank gave them when they bought their farms.” The boy paused as he processed the information. His thoughtful expression was replaced by a look of confusion. “But, Pa, I don’t understand. Both you and Friar Jesus said farmers could pay the land bank in, ah, comedies.”
Will briefly smiled at the malapropism. “I think you mean commodities. But yes, you’re right. The article doesn’t address that, and without knowing what’s causing these ranchers and farmers to default on their loan payments when they can pay with their farm produce, it doesn’t tell the whole story. What do you think one of the reasons could be they aren’t able to make their loan payments?”
After a lengthy pause, Charlie ventured a guess, “Maybe they’re trying to grow crops where the land can’t support them, or maybe they’re lazy.”
“I doubt very many of them are lazy,” Will said, “The average farmer is very hardworking. From what I have read, some of the farmers are losing their farms because they established them too far from water sources or the ground was poorly suited for the crops they tried to grow, and some small number just didn’t understand the harsh demands some parts of Texas make on a farmer.”
Charlie’s curiosity led to more questions. “Pa, why aren’t we farmers? Didn’t Uncle Davy give you a lot of land?”
A small smile crossed Will’s face, as he imagined Crockett’s response to being called, ‘Uncle Davy.’ He dismissed the image and replied, “Most of the time, Charlie, I enjoy my job in the army. I doubt very seriously I’d make a very good farmer. Why? Do you want to become a farmer when you grow up?”
The boy tossed his head in an exaggerated manner. “No sir, Pa. I wanna be a soldier, like you, when I grow up. If I can’t be a soldier, then I wanna be a politician, like Uncle Davy!” He tumbled out of his chair in a fit of giggles.
The boy’s antics made Will laugh. But Charlie’s words got him to thinking. The land grant he had received for service to the Republic totaled more than six thousand acres. The land was in East Texas, along the Trinity River. It was supposed to be very good farmland, but it was undeveloped and lying fallow. An idea began to circulate in his mind. Maybe it was time to do something about that.
***
The following day, Will and Charlie were walking home from the Methodist service. The congregation was not yet able to afford to build a church building, so they rented the dining room of a cantina near the main plaza, where they held service every Sunday morning. As they walked down the hard-packed dirt street, Will spotted one of his former soldiers walking past, toward the cantina.
Will stopped and turned, “Corporal Wynters, have you forgotten your manners after only six months out of the army?” Will’s broad smile belied his stern voice.
The former soldier, walking with a cane, turned, and looked Will over. As recognition dawned, he said, “Sorry, General, sir. Didn’t recognize you in your Sunday best. Onlyest time I seen you, you was in uniform.”
Will asked after the former soldier’s wellbeing and discovered he was working at the very cantina from which they just came. “Been here for a few months now, sir. It helps to put a roof over my head.”
Curious about how the former infantryman was adjusting to civilian life, he and Charlie returned to the cantina, where the Methodist circuit rider and the cantina’s owner had just finished moving the tables back into place. As Will and Charlie took a seat, the former corporal came over and said, “It’ll be a few minutes before the cook gets the kitchen open. While you’re waiting, can I get anything for you, General?”
Will pointed to one of the empty chairs at the table. “Sit a spell, Corporal. What did you do following your discharge from the army, before you found this job?
Wynters sat and rested his cane against the table. “I was laid up in the hospital for several weeks. After that arrow struck the bone in th
e leg, I was afeared of ever walking again, but the Doc, he got me well again and after that, I couldn’t walk good any more so, I was given my land grant and mustered out. I found this here job a few weeks later, and been here ever since.”
An idea which had been forming since the previous day resurfaced in Will’s mind and he asked, “Have you redeemed your land voucher yet?”
Wynters shook his head, “No. What the hell am I going to do with the four thousand acres that the government gave me? I can’t farm with this bum leg, any more. Hell, I can’t even stay on a horse for more than a little bit at a time these days.”
Will said, “Have you considered leasing your land to farmers?”
Wynters shook his head, “No. why would farmers lease land from me? They can get it cheap enough from the land office.” Intrigued at the question, he asked, “What are you getting at, General?”
Will laid out his thoughts, “Now, Corporal Wynters, right now, who’s making all the money growing cash crops in Texas?”
The former corporal grumbled. “It’s those damned plantation owners, with their slaves, growing and selling cotton. But it takes a lot of money to buy the slaves and all that equipment. It takes money to make money. And I ain’t got any.”
Will acknowledged Corporal Wynters’ position. “That may be true, but you do have the land. What if you were to divide the land into, say, forty-acre tracts and lease it out to other farmers. I could provide you both the seed, and money for some of the equipment, and pay to get some cabins built. These tenants wouldn’t have to worry about making loan repayments. All they have to do is provide their labor.”
Wynters scratched his chin as he tried to work out how the scenario would work.
Taking his thoughts from the previous day, Will said, “Well, Corporal, one way it could work is a tenant would lease the land from you, I would loan the tenant the supplies for the crops, the tenant would own everything he produces, but would pay you rent and repay the loan from me.”