After Louisa gave birth, they’d remained in camp for two days to allow her to rest before setting off again. Creeping much of the way, the horses walked through the miles of mud. Sticky sludge accumulated on the wagon wheels and had to be scraped off now and then, but they’d finally arrived two nights before.
Samuel tossed the newspaper he just finished reading to Baldy. The San Antonio Texas Courier, or Correo de Texas, a bilingual newspaper was published weekly in San Antonio. An American named Ashbridge printed the paper in early May, a week ago. Precious copies circulated throughout the Province carried by travelers and merchants. Samuel had secured a copy shortly after they arrived in Nacogdoches. The banner at the top read, “To the Advocates of Light and Reason, the friends to the Province of Texas, and the Mexican Empire.”
But light and reason had little to do with the news story he’d just read aloud by the glow of their campfire and the oil lamp hanging from the side of the wagon.
The news was grim and though not difficult to believe, it was tough to accept. Devastating even. The headline, ‘Red River Flooding Catastrophic to Pecan Point,’ confirmed the rumors they’d heard—their homes were underwater. Worse, the flooding drowned thirty-seven people, including more than two dozen of Watson’s slaves. It would be impossible to tell until the waters receded, but everyone thought the mighty river might have changed its course or widened.
The other major story above the fold in the paper concerned Stephen F. Austin and the ‘Latest Efforts by Anglos to Secure Land Grants in Tejas.’
“What did the paper say about Mr. Austin?” Steve asked.
Samuel threw up a hand in disgust. “Since Texas is no longer a part of the Spanish empire but a newly independent Mexico, Austin was forced to renegotiate his father’s contract with the new government in Mexico City. Recent political infighting led to three different Mexican governments, so it took him a year to renegotiate.”
“Austin was only recently named the first foreign Empressario, or colonization agent,” Baldy said. “He’s been given permission to recruit and settle settlers and to issue land titles.”
Samuel and other Texicans trusted Austin. The only problem was that, according to the newspaper, Austin founded his colony in a fertile area on both sides of the Brazos and Colorado Rivers starting at the Gulf Coast and extending to the Old Spanish trade route, the Camino Real.
“Where will his colony be?” Steve asked.
“Sadly, several hundred miles to the south and west,” Baldy said.
Samuel shook his head. The most dangerous thing cowhands faced when moving a herd were river crossings and there were broad rivers to cross between Nacogdoches and Austin’s colony. “Far too great a distance to move a herd of five-hundred head, especially with two major rain-swollen rivers in between here and there. And according to Austin himself, squatters have already claimed some of the best locations. I need land in East Texas, closer to the forts we sell beef to.” And he needed it soon. Hollis and the rest of his hands were not far behind them with the herd.
Mexico’s recently passed Imperial Colonization Law provided for settlement by local governments of immigrants and opened Texas up to citizens of the United States. People used to the freedoms of democracy. People who would make their homes where there were no trails. In places ahead of civilization. People with the same spirit that grew the country beyond Plymouth Rock. And then beyond the thirteen colonies. And now beyond the Ohio, Mississippi, and Red Rivers. And with what Lewis and Clark discovered, maybe someday to settle beyond the great mountains in the west all the way to another ocean.
It was this law that Samuel was counting on rather than Austin’s colony.
Dozens of other settlers of Pecan Point and Jonesboro were also camped along the creek north of Nacogdoches, their lives equally disrupted by the loss of homes and livelihoods.
Nonetheless, some found creative ways to carry on. Mr. Mabbitt now operated his store out of the back of his freight wagon with the help of Widow Jones. The settlement’s farrier trimmed and shoed horses’ hooves and repaired saddles and tack at his campsite. The owner of the Red Buffalo Tavern, who’d brought along all of his whiskey and several of his tables, served drinks and beans out of his wagon. And Rose, the Red Buffalo’s ‘Queen of Love’ helped him.
Samuel suspected though that few men had love on their minds these days. Now, their aim was on surviving and caring for and feeding the numerous children who played among the camps.
“I feel so bad for us and all the settlers along the Red who have lost their homes,” Melly said. Her voice, hardly above a whisper, sounded tired. “And I feel sad for us.”
“We’ll spend no time feeling sorry for ourselves,” Father said. “Our time will be better spent building new lives somewhere in Texas.”
“Stephen, sometimes you can be a hard man,” Melly retorted.
“If the West doesn’t kill a man, it will make him hard,” Father told her.
Samuel knew that under Father’s leadership, little would stop them. Father had come of age amid the American Revolution and when he reached the age of thirty-one, tired of toiling New England’s rocky soil, he decided to seek new outlets for his ambition. That’s what had brought Father and his brothers to Kentucky. And later, once the leading edge of the frontier shifted further west, all the way to Pecan Point.
Samuel carried that same determination to succeed into the interior of Texas. So did Steve. And perhaps Thomas as well, although he was not nearly as interested in cattle or horses.
They’d just finished the evening meal, which had been delayed because Melly found a timber rattlesnake coiled atop her potato sack. The deadly snake was a good four-feet long with a rust-colored strip and v-shaped crossbars along the length of its back. Fortunately, tipped with rattles, its tail alerted Melly to its presence before she reached in to select her potatoes.
When Steve heard Melly scream, he’d rushed to her rescue. Not wanting to ruin any of the precious potatoes, which sold for twenty cents a pound, he didn’t want to use his pistol, but he succeeded in hurling his knife into the creature’s wide head.
After Steve removed the viper from the wagon, Thomas volunteered to skin it and peeled the long strips of meat away from the snake’s spine. When he finished, frugal Melly dusted the meat in a light cornmeal coating, pan-fried it, and added it to their dinner fixings. It tasted a lot like chicken to him.
Baldy patted Melly’s shoulder. “Not only should we not waste time on self-pity, but we should also be very thankful tonight. That rattler could have done you a great deal of damage,” he said, taking a last bite of the snake meat. “I once had a patient with an arm pulled out of its socket by a rattler’s bite on his wrist.”
Louisa sat next to Samuel on a blanket leaning against his shoulder, her hand resting on his arm. She was half-awake because of the babe’s constant feeding schedule, every couple of hours, day and night. A long and stout infant to begin with, the babe was growing so fast he seemed to have doubled in size since his birth.
Samuel smiled down at Little Stephen who slept next to Louisa. Since the boy’s birth, his heart must have grown too full of love because affection seemed to gush out of him now. He often acted like a sentimental fool, cooing and awing over their adorable son.
Besotted as well, Louisa was full of wonder and adoration for Little Stephen. The rest of his family, especially Grandfather Stephen, smiled every time they even caught a glimpse of the babe. And Uncle Steve seemed to enjoy rocking Little Stephen to sleep. The infant was the one bright spot amid the chaos their lives had become.
“Tomorrow, we’ll visit Nacogdoches and speak with the Alcalde,” Father said.
While the French controlled Louisiana, the town originally developed as a trading and smuggling center. Under Spain and now Mexico, the Old Stone Fort and a neglected mission dominated the town’s landscape.
“I visited the mission yesterday,” Baldy said. “They have no priest and political upheaval has caused the missio
n to suffer.”
“I suspect the missions were established as much to spread the power of Spain’s and Mexico’s governments as they were the gospel,” Father said.
“Either way, there’s no shortage of people wanting to come to Texas,” Steve said.
The busy town was the leading entryway for Anglo immigrants, earning the nickname Gateway to Texas. The United States still struggled with the economic impact of the Panic of 1819.
“Soaring land prices within the states make promises of free Mexican land in Texas enticing,” Father said. “People don’t care where their piece of dirt is as long as it is their dirt.”
Samuel prayed the town would be a gateway for his family as well and that they could negotiate and secure enough land for his herd and their homes. If he had to, he would simply buy the land they needed. If the seller could definitively prove his ownership and the price wasn’t inflated.
A fast reader, Baldy quickly scanned the article about Austin’s colony and then handed it to Melly. Shaking his head, Baldy said, “It appears that Mexico is now ruled by brigands who have revolutions twice a year. How can we trust them to give us valid land grants?”
“I’m not sure they know what their land policy is. Now it appears they may soon stop immigration,” Samuel said.
“I doubt that they do,” Baldy said. “They use the taxes they collect from settlers to support the Catholic Church. They want all of us to become Catholics.”
“That won’t sit well with us Protestants,” Adam said.
Caddo lazed on a blanket next to Adam snoring occasionally. Like the rest of them, the dog was exhausted and his big head rested on Adam’s leg. Amos’ head lay on the dog, but the little boy seemed to be wide awake and listening to every word.
“It sure won’t,” agreed Baldy. “They could learn something by reading the First Amendment of our Constitution. ‘Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof.’”
“I think the Mexican government is growing alarmed that Anglo immigrants will engulf the Province,” Samuel explained. “Already there are ten times as many American immigrants as Mexicans. And all the settlers I’ve talked to have dropped the Spanish ‘Tejas’ in favor of the English ‘Texas.’”
It all made Samuel wonder how long Texas would remain under Mexico.
An owl hooted in a nearby tree and in the distance, coyotes yapped as they hunted in the darkness.
Father frowned. “From the few men I’ve spoken to, the colonists here seem even more contemptuous of some of the Mexicans than they are of Indians. They view the Alcalde and other officials as slothful and conniving.”
“With good reason. It seems many of them have been waiting months, even years, to secure title to their land,” Baldy added. The doctor had already made two trips into town to purchase medical supplies. “They feel the Mexican government brought them here under false pretenses—luring them here to fight Indians with promises of free land—and they are now reneging on their pledges.”
Sitting with his back reclined against a wagon wheel, Steve said, “But according to their own law, each head of a family is supposed to get 177 acres of land for farming and 4,428 acres for raising livestock.” At twenty-two, Steve was still young enough to be more optimistic than realistic.
“Mexico wants to keep the vast resources of Texas for themselves, even though they don’t have the population or funds to develop it,” Samuel said. “Their government is broke. So they want Americans to take the risks settling it.”
Louisa snuggled even closer to him. Thoroughly worn out, she fell asleep at once. He pulled the blanket over her shoulders.
“So, what are we going to do? Are we going to apply for grants, buy land, or just squat someplace?” Thomas asked, keeping his voice low to not disturb his wife who also slept beside him. Abigail had nodded off some time ago and now and then her snores joined with the dog’s making them all chuckle, especially Amos.
“I don’t know yet,” their father said. “But I know we must do our best not to butt heads with the military. Or with the Alcalde. He has both administrative and judicial authority and since Mexicans support him, he invariably decides in favor of Tejanos instead of Americans. His reputation in town is tarnished, to say the least.”
Steve frowned. “I learned today that a man named José Cosio commands the Mexican military garrison at Nacogdoches. He has a hundred well-disciplined troops, although they are evidently underpaid and underfed.”
“Perhaps we can sell beef to Comandante Cosio,” Samuel said.
Amos sat up. “What ‘bout Master Watson? Will he come here too? Will he bring my Pa?” His small voice was full of entreaty and his questions explained why he was still awake.
Steve, who had grown attached to the youngster, reached over and placed a soothing hand on the boy’s head. “We don’t know yet, Amos. That newspaper says that much of Pecan Point was swept away by floodwaters.”
They’d also learned that in addition to the slaves that drowned, many others had fallen ill from exposure. But Steve wisely didn’t mention that to the child just before the boy needed to go to sleep.
A single tear slipped from each of Amos’ big eyes. The Plantation wasn’t much of a home, but it was his home. And the child missed his father.
“Don’t worry Amos,” Samuel said. “You can stay with us for as long as you need to. You should sleep now. We all should.”
Amos put his head down on the blanket and wiped the tear away with a dirty hand.
They were all dirty. But they were too tired to worry about it. And they needed to wait until things dried out a bit before trying to get clean. It would take a good deal of washing and scrubbing to rid everyone and everything of all the mud and dirt. Even the horses were caked in mud up to their hocks. Fortunately, they’d made camp near a clear flowing creek and would have access to plenty of fresh water. Tomorrow, they would start washing off.
But could they all wash away the memory of all that they’d lost? Could they create a homeplace as nice as what they’d left behind? Could he find pasture for his cattle? Could they live peaceably and in freedom within Mexican Texas?
Would he find the answers under the stars of Texas?
Little Stephen stirred and cooed.
Samuel scooped him up before the babe had a chance to wake Louisa. The infant’s wobbly little arms reached out to him and his hand gripped Samuel’s finger with remarkable strength for someone so small. The joining of their fingers felt more than merely physical. It was nearly spiritual. Something he would long remember.
Samuel settled Stephen into his lap and gazed down into his son’s alert eyes. “Let’s let your Mama sleep another hour or two,” he whispered.
Little Stephen seemed to examine him and then the babe’s eyes intensely locked onto his. He sensed that his child was looking deep inside of him—at their past and his origins. He hoped his son saw all the heroic men and valiant women who got the two of them to this moment in time and this place.
And Samuel saw, deep in his son’s eyes, not the past, but the present and the future. His son was his pride of the present and his hope for the future. And he would be Little Stephen’s champion. He would fight whatever battle he needed to protect his son on the way to his future.
He glanced around their camp as everyone settled in to sleep. He knew that his brothers would always be there too to fight with him. And Father would always have his back. So would Baldy and Melly. They were family.
As his son nodded off again, Samuel stared off into the stillness of the night. He knew that sometimes answers could be found in silence. God is found in silence.
It was time to listen.
And wait for the light of dawn in Texas.
Part II
TEXAS RISING
Steve and Rebecca,
Nacogdoches
Chapter 12
Nacogdoches, Province of Coahuila and Texas, Mexico
Rebecca Tyler s
tepped off the porch of her parents’ home with her shopping basket in hand. The wood-frame house with its smokehouse, blacksmith shop, horse paddocks, as well as gardens and a sugarcane mill, was one of the finest in Nacogdoches.
A prosperous sugarcane planter who planted large acreages, her father used horsepower to drive wooden rollers to extract the cane juice, which was then boiled in open-kettles in the sugarhouse. Sugar made her father wealthy. It also gave them all a taste for sweets.
She glanced down at the new pink and white-striped gown that her father gave her for her recent nineteenth birthday and checked to be sure her petticoat was covered. Next, she tucked her long black hair behind her ears. Except for her old lace-up brogans, which she wore because of all the mud caused by recent rains, she was pleased with her appearance. She always wanted to look her best when she went into town.
A small pistol lay beneath the linen towel in the bottom of her basket. She was always armed when she ventured out. None of us know what threats await us, she thought. And we never know how we will be blessed either. Life held both possibilities every day. Especially in a town like Nacogdoches, a gateway between the United States and Mexico. The town was like the gate that the Bible speaks of. For a few, it was the narrow gate that led to a better life. For others, it was the wide gate and broad road that led to destruction. Which gate settlers entered was largely dependent on their strength, preparedness, and courage. And faith. Far too many, unfamiliar with the danger of the frontier, came lacking these essential traits.
Morning sun rays shined down on the path to town lined with spring wildflowers, which were really just colorful weeds that she and others couldn’t help but love. Her favorites were Brown Eyed Susans and Bluebonnets. Chirpy birds provided merry melodies from the lofts of towering trees as she strolled by. The bright and breezy day felt special for some reason. And for the first time in a long while, she allowed herself to feel carefree.
LAND OF STARS: The Texas Wyllie Brothers (Wilderness Dawning Series Book 2) Page 10