In Harm's Way

by Drew McGunn

  Smith took his hat off, setting it on the seat. “Only a few companies are stationed at the Alamo now. I suppose I have everything I absolutely must have but getting Austin to fund the research we need to treat wounds more effectively isn’t going to happen, at least not until Zavala and Congress have balanced out the debt they’ve taken on.”

  Will bobbed his head. “That kind of funding is likely five to ten years away, as I understand it. It’s a shame. Gangrene and sepsis kill more soldiers than Santa Anna’s men ever did. I’ve been talking with a few like-minded men about healthcare here in the eastern part of the Republic, and I believe there’s enough interest in establishing a hospital.”

  Smith leaned forward in his seat as the coach rocked along the road. Will let a smile play across his features as he continued, “Now that the railroad connects the Houston and Harrisburg communities with West Liberty and Anahuac, a hospital could serve most of the area around Galveston Bay.”

  “That’s not small potatoes. More than a hundred thousand folks are living within fifty miles of the bay.”

  “True. I’ve talked with my associate, Sam Williams, and he tells me that there’s a building in Houston that is available for rent. It’s two stories. Wouldn’t take much to have a few dozen beds set up there. We’ve got plans to build a college at Trinity Park with a few classrooms.”

  Smith blinked at the news, “Classrooms?”

  “I don’t want to put the cart before the horse, Dr. Smith, but wouldn’t you like to start training our own doctors?”

  “Now you’re just playing with my affections, General. You know there’s nothing more that I’d like than to improve the education of the men practicing medicine.” Smith paused as he glanced out the coach. He could see the Trinity River in the distance. “But what you’re talking about wouldn’t be cheap.”

  Will acknowledged the comment with a single dip of his head before saying, “I’ve secured a couple of thousand dollars from Sam and an equal amount from Don Garza. The city fathers, in Houston, own the building and are willing to lease it for next to nothing for the next few years. I’ve sent a letter to the Methodist Missionary Society and Gail Borden has done the same with his Baptist Missionary friends.”

  “Why?”

  Will’s face grew somber, as he thought about how backward medicine remained. He knew he was ill-suited trying to speed the development of medicine along, but he knew malaria, typhoid fever, yellow fever, and cholera would kill thousands of Texians over the coming decades. If something could be done to reduce the risk, it was worth the effort, even if he had only the faintest idea of where to start.

  Will weighed his words with care as he said, “I heard about what you did in Galveston during the Yellow Fever outbreak in thirty-eight. I happen to agree with you that yellow fever isn’t contagious at least not like most folks think. I believe that yellow fever is caused by mosquitos.”

  Smith allowed a long moment to pass before he responded. “I’ll allow you might have something there. Is that your goal? What would you call it? A research hospital.”

  Will nodded. “Exactly. What would you say if I told you that cholera was the result of contaminated water or food? What if I told you that surgeons who thoroughly wash their hands before operating on a patient reduce the chance of infection?”

  Smith looked dubious. “I feel as though I am Eve and you’re the great Tempter. You know I’ve speculated about these things, but my ideas haven’t gained much ground.”

  He sounded unhappy as he continued, “Why are you offering this? If you tell me you’re doing this out of benevolence and Christian charity, I’ll believe you, or at least I’ll try.”

  Will flushed, a part of him wished it were a simple act of charity. That it wasn’t, left him feeling ashamed. “I’m probably not going to gain any angel wings for my altruism. Several projects that I’m partnering on are going to result in more workers coming to Texas. If an epidemic hits those workers, much of what we’re trying to do could be set back. Also, if the hospital develops any medicines or the like, I want the right to manufacture the medicine, splitting any profit with you or any other creator.”

  For the first time since climbing into the coach, Ashbel Smith burst into laughter. “Lord have mercy. Sidney Johnston told me you had turned into a businessman when you surrendered your stars. But I suspect he’s underestimated you.”

  Will smiled sheepishly. “I’ve laid my soul bare, Ashbel. Are you interested?”

  The sound of hammers banging on iron came in through the open door as the carriage rolled into Trinity Park. Dr. Smith stuck his hand out, “I believe we have an agreement, Buck.”

  Chapter 17

  End of March 1844

  Becky picked up the sheet of newspaper and wrapped the porcelain plate in it. She added it to the stack in the wooden crate. The box was heavy; she’d wait until Will and Charlie return, before trying to load it into the wagon they were using to move the family’s effects to their new home in Trinity Park.

  She collapsed into the lone chair and looked around the cabin. Both little ones were asleep on a blanket in one corner. But apart from a few other boxes, the one-room cabin was empty. She was amazed that Will had been able to build a new home for her family in so little time, especially given how often he was traveling. But the construction was complete. Becky’s new home was large enough for her children to have their own bedrooms. Unlike their home in San Antonio, the kitchen and dining areas were separated, and there was even a sitting room and library.

  She was looking forward to getting out of the cabin she’d called home for the past few months. The previous experience had reminded too much of her childhood. Her father’s fortunes had ebbed and flowed until he had risen to the become president of the Republic of Texas. There were times when his business dealings had soured, and they would lose their home and have to start over. She prayed the removal from San Antonio to West Liberty was the only setback Will would face. The speed with which he recovered had surprised and gratified her.

  She wasn’t sure what he had done, but she knew the loan from the Treasury Department to the bank had allowed the bank to make good their depositors’ money. That had been a personal godsend, given that the Travis family had several thousand dollars deposited in the bank.

  There was a heavy knock on the door. Liza tossed in her sleep. Becky wasn’t expecting anyone. “Who’s there?”

  “Douglas Smith,” there was a pause. “From Trinity Pines.”

  Neither the name nor the place meant anything to her. Cautiously, she opened the door. Smith stood in the lawn below the porch. When he saw her, he tipped his hat, “Ma’am. I’m right sorry to bother you, but I’m looking for an escaped slave.”

  Perturbed, Becky folded her arms, “I’d suggest you get to looking for him. You’ll not find any slaves here.”

  Twisting his hat in his hand, Smith said, “Begging your pardon, but I believe your son may know where the escaped slave is. I’d like to talk to him.”

  Like ice filling a pitcher, a coldness descended into Becky’s stomach. She had only met Cuffey a couple of times, but somehow or another the illusion Will had worked to create around the fugitive slave was unraveling.

  She managed, “He’s not here. He’s with his pa.”

  Smith glared at her. “I know for a fact that your boy was hunting with a black boy a couple of weeks ago. I seen them with my own eyes. I didn’t think anything of it until a couple of days ago, when Mr. Talmage received some notices of escaped slaves. Sure enough, that darky your son was with matched the description of the missing runaway.”

  Becky stood on the porch, her arms still crossed, “That don’t mean anything. Charlie’s friend has his freedman papers. That’s proof your dog don’t hunt.”

  Smith pulled a printed notice from a pocket and unfolded it. “My dog hunts just fine, ma’am. This notice also said that this here runaway could be in the company of a white youth with red hair and fair complexion.”

  B
ecky stared at him as he continued, “Seems to me, I’ve found myself a runaway. I think I’ll wait here until your husband and son return.”

  Trembling with rage and fear, Becky went back inside. The children were still asleep on the blanket. She wished her mother was there at that moment, but Elizabeth was already at the new house, unpacking boxes Will and Charlie had taken over earlier.

  Her purse was near the windowsill, and it contained one thing that might be of use. She tipped it onto the floor, and the gift from her husband landed with a heavy thump. She picked up the present and with a backward glance at the sleeping children, she returned to the porch.

  “Mr. Smith, your company offends me. You’ve got until the time I count to ten to get out of my sight. One,” she said as she revealed the .36 caliber pistol her husband had given her years before.

  “Two.”

  Smith chuckled nervously, “Listen up, Mrs. Travis, I’m in my right to demand you produce the slave your husband and son are hiding.”

  “Three.”

  “You really should put that away, I’d hate to see a pretty lady such as yourself get hurt.”

  Infuriated, she cocked the hammer back and made sure powder and ball were seated in the uppermost chamber. “Four.”

  “Don’t make me go find the sheriff and make him do what you ought to do yourself. A good southern woman should know her duty to her fellow southerners, and damn it, this ain’t it.”

  “Five.”

  Smith stepped forward and placed his right foot on the porch’s bottom step. Becky pointed the gun into the air and pulled the trigger. The hammer slammed down, striking the percussion cap which set off the charge of gunpowder. The ball flew from the barrel at seven hundred feet per second. “Mr. Smith, if you take one more step toward me, you had best make damned sure you’re right with Jesus because he’s going to be the next person you see. Six.”

  The portly overseer retreated back to his horse. David’s unmistakable caterwauling could be heard from within the cabin followed a second later by Liza’s.

  Smith grabbed the saddle horn and heaved himself back into the saddle with a heavy grunt. “Alright, Mrs. Travis, have it your way. I know I’ve got the law on my side. I’ll be back shortly, and I’ll make sure the law knows you were not helpful.”

  The word, seven, died on her lips as she watched Smith jerk at the reins, turn his mount around and ride north. She lowered the pistol and felt her arm shaking, the sound of her children forced her to push back on the emotions threatening to overwhelm her. She turned and hurried back inside.

  A few minutes passed before she heard feet pounding on the porch and a heavy knocking on her door. “Señora, are you alright?”

  She allowed a sob to escape her lips as she heard the welcome voice of Don Garza. Little David was clinging to her neck as she opened the door. Garza and a man she knew as Winters were standing there, Winters held a rifle in his hands. She had been around soldiers enough to see he carried it with the air of someone who knew how to use it.

  She gulped back a sob as she said, “Señor Garza, thank God it’s you. Some slaver was here, demanding we produce some runaway. He threatened me and forced me to fire into the air to scare him off.” Her emotions were still running high, and the word scared came out skeered.

  Garza stepped forward and placed a hand on her shoulder, “I take it from the gunshot you put the fear of the almighty into him? Or should we make our way to the nearest pigsty and make sure you’re not trying to cover anything up?” The last was said through a chuckle.

  The absurdity of the comment broke through her reserve and between sobs and choking laughter, she managed, “Would that I thought of that, but no, he said he’d be back, he was going to sic the law on me.”

  “I know the sheriff. I can delay him a bit if it becomes necessary. But if there’s any question to young Charlie’s negro friend, I’d suggest, he seek employment elsewhere, Miss Rebecca.”

  She frowned at the news. It would tear at Charlie to lose a friend. But what choice was there?

  Will and Charlie pulled the borrowed wagon in front of the house within the hour. Becky steeled her heart and broke the news to her husband and son.

  ***

  Charlie fumed as he sat beside Becky. The wagon was loaded with the handful of boxes from the house in West Liberty. He held his little sister in his lap. His stepmother rocked little David, who appeared to be sleeping at the moment. His pa was driving the wagon. The two-horse team made good time, but it didn’t hurt that the road was evenly graded and well maintained.

  When he and Pa had arrived back at the little cabin she had stormed out with the baby in her arms and told them about the fat overseer showing up. He had to admit the idea of her holding a gun on the vile man still brought a smile to his face. Part of him wished she had just shot Smith. Then, at least, the problem facing them would have died with the slaver.

  He shifted Liza from one knee to the other as he said, “I still don’t understand why Cuffey can’t stay.”

  Becky’s response was low, “Because the law’s on their side. If he shows up with the sheriff, Cuffey’s papers showing him to be a freedman won’t hold water.”

  “I don’t see why not. They were sworn before a judge, they’re as legal as anything else, aren’t they?”

  His pa, sitting on the far side of the buckboard, said, “As far as I’m concerned, sure, they’re valid. I wish to God the world agreed with me.”

  “What do you mean, Pa?”

  “I thought it worth the effort to provide papers that would allow Cuffey to work as a freedman. It wasn’t difficult to get the town judge in West Liberty to agree to draft the manumission papers, he’s a good man. But the truth of the matter is that both the judge and I took a risk in drafting the papers because, as we all know, they’re not based on the facts.”

  Charlie was confused, “How can it not be? Cuffey made his escape with the rest of us. That made him free, didn’t it?”

  Will snapped the reins, urging the team to pick up the speed. “As God is my witness, Son, I wish that was the case. In a more just world it would be. In this unjust one, the law of Texas matches the law in the United States, and Cuffey still belongs to that jackass, Lamont.”

  Charlie hid a smile when Becky slapped Will’s arm. “Language Will. Little ears.”

  “Well, it’s true. Unfortunately, if Lamont or any slave-catcher acting on his warrant, shows up and can show that Cuffey was Lamont’s, there’s damn all I can do about it legally.”

  Becky frowned at Pa but held her peace. Charlie said, “That’s not fair. Cuffey deserves to be free, like Joe and Hatti.”

  “I completely agree. If I could snap my fingers and liberate every man, woman, and child enslaved in Texas. Throw in the United States to boot. It’s not natural for one man to own another, Charlie. As much as I hate what needs to be done now, I’m glad to see that this sickens you, too.”

  “What are you going to do, Pa?”

  Will glanced at the sun as it was sinking to their west. “Tonight, we’ll get the boxes unloaded.”

  Charlie laughed “Not about the wagon. What about Cuffey?”

  His pa wore a sober expression. “I’ll go and talk to him. I’ve got some business in Austin on behalf of Sam and the bank. I’ll ask him to accompany me. Once I’m done in Austin, we’ll head down to San Antonio. With any luck, Joe will still be home from his last freight haul. It’s a poor choice, but I’ll see if I can get Cuffey hired on with Joe. If he’s gone most of the time, maybe this issue will die down, and Cuffey can get on with his life.”

  Charlie shook his head. “I know I done said it, Pa, but this ain’t fair.”

  His pa reached around Becky and tousled his hair, “Not at all, son. Maybe someday soon we can do something about it. Until then, we’ll do what we can to help Cuffey stay free.”

  ***

  Two days later Will sat in the passenger car as it rocked along. He looked out the window as the San Jacinto River cam
e into view. Early April was the prettiest time of the year to see the riot of colors Texas’ native wildflowers displayed. As the train swayed back and forth as it crossed the river, Will looked out and saw on one bank of the river a handful of farms. On the other side of the river spread a plantation, with slaves at work in the field. Before he could count their number, the train whisked the passenger car away.

  Cuffey sat on the bench opposite from him. They were on one end of the car. On the other end, sat several other passengers. Every once in a while, one would cast a nasty glance their way. The railroads were too new a means of transportation for Congress to have taken time to legislate where blacks, freed or slave, would be allowed to ride. But based on the withering look from one mother of two small children, her husband would get an earful. From there, no doubt his congressman would get an earful and then a new law would be proposed removing the inconvenient eyesore of slavery and penury from sight.

  There were times Will genuinely hated being transferred into the past and this was one of those. The past seven years, building and developing the army, slavery was an annoying itch. There were not many slaves or freedmen and women in San Antonio, and it was easy while defending the republic’s borders to ignore slavery’s blight.

  He sighed as the engine’s brakes squealed in protest, they were slowing as they neared Harrisburg Station. He was now a civilian, living nearer than he’d like to plantations. Were he transferred back to his old body, and William Barret Travis resumed this one, there was no doubt Travis would go on getting along with plantation owners. As he stepped off the train and waited for Cuffey to climb down, he thought, “Dammit, I wasn’t born into this body and I’m not going to pretend to like slavery just for the sake of a little comfort.”

  No, he wasn’t going to go along to get along now that his time in the army was behind him. He was proud of the Gulf Farms Corporation. They employed all of their farmers. No slave labor was used there. Sam Williams had been true to his word when Will had proposed their partnership. The bank refused to loan money for the purchase of slaves. Williams was a study of contradictions, though. Despite being a native of Rhode Island, he owned a couple of slaves. While Will disagreed with him on the issue, Williams had framed the subject as one of compassion. One of Sam’s slaves was an elderly septuagenarian. The other was a young woman who was barren. To Williams’ view of the world, he provided security to both in exchange for their labor.