American Blood

by Jason Manning

  With a grim smile Falconer shook his head. "The poor fools think there is glory in war. I hope they don't have to die to find out otherwise."

  Delgado told them that he had heard people say that the Mexicans were an inferior race who would be easily conquered.

  "I know better," said Jeremy. "Remember the Rancheros, Hugh?"

  Falconer nodded, and it was apparent that the memory was not a pleasant one.

  "They were Mexican irregular cavalry," Jeremy told Delgado. "Fought at Palo Alto and Resaca de la Palma. It was a Ranchero who shot me and then Hugh. I would liken them to the Russian cossacks. The Mexican people call them the 'hawks of the chaparral.' They are fearless, and they give no quarter. I've heard others say that they are cowards, who fight only from ambush, but I know that is not the case. I've not seen better shots, more superb horsemen, or braver men."

  "I will tell you this much," responded Delgado. "Military discipline does not sit well with a Mexican, but he will fight like a tiger to protect his land and his family, and because he is afraid the American will make him a slave."

  "As to that," said Jeremy, "isn't it true that the peon is a slave in all but name? Indebted for life to a big landowner, is he not forced to work like a slave?"

  "In some cases that is true. But do not call him a slave to his face. The Constitution of 1824 prohibits slavery in the Republic of Mexico. The peon will prefer that constitution to your own, Jeremy, which permits slavery to exist."

  "I haven't asked you where you stand in this affair, Del," said Jeremy gravely. "But I'll wager Colonel Kearny will."

  "My family is my chief concern, to my mother and father my only allegiance."

  Delgado had a feeling that Jeremy Bledsoe did not believe him. Jeremy could not conceive of a man without patriotism. Delgado thought this was an odd kind of myopia, since Jeremy lived in a country where some men—call them nullifiers or secessionists or what you will—were ready to sacrifice their country for the sake of their own selfish pursuits.

  On their third day out of St. Louis a lone rider on a lathered horse caught up with them. It was Sterling, of the St. Louis Enquirer.

  "Hope you boys don't object to some company," said the newspaperman. "I too am bound for the fields of glory, you see."

  "You volunteered?" asked Jeremy.

  "Oh, no." Sterling laughed. "I leave the heroics to younger men. But there is an intense competition for war news. Newspapers all over the country are sending out their special correspondents. My friend George Wilkins Kendall of the New Orleans Picayune has gone to war. Of course this isn't the first time for George; he was part of the Santa Fe Expedition in 1842 and spent some months languishing in a Mexican jail for his trouble. Thomas Thorpe of the Tropic is somewhere down along the Rio Grande with Taylor. And I have it on good authority that James Gordon Bennett has dispatched no less than four correspondents to represent the New York Herald. They say Bennett is establishing an express to carry the news north from Mobile, and the Philadelphia and Baltimore penny presses have thrown in together to purchase sixty blooded horses for a pony express from New Orleans. The New York papers are discussing the idea of organizing into something called the Associated Press. The idea is that they will share the cost as well as the news. The Enquirer is not to be outdone, naturally."

  "Come along, then," said Falconer, "and welcome."

  "My thanks." Sterling peered curiously at Delgado. "I have heard tell of your clash with our mutual acquaintance, Mr. Horan. He has declared you a rank coward for running away."

  Delgado bristled, then calmed himself. "Let him say what he will."

  He could see that his response was, for Jeremy at least, most unsatisfactory.

  Chapter Five

  "Old scores remain to be settled."

  1

  Thanks to Stephen Watts Kearny, Fort Leavenworth was a true American fortress on the frontier. It had not always been so. Upon taking command of the First Dragoons, the legendary Indian fighter's first priority had been to strengthen the fort's defenses, which were deplorable. Two blockhouses were constructed. A hospital and guardhouse followed. The condition of the barracks and officers' quarters was substantially improved. Before Kearny, assignment to the garrison at Fort Leavenworth was, as one subaltern put it in a letter to his sweetheart, "worse than being posted to the lowest level of Satan's kingdom." Now, though, life at the fort was far from a dull ordeal. Frequent dinner parties and dances, or "hops" as the soldiers called them, enlivened the post. Sometimes theatrical companies disembarked from river steamers, which regularly plied the tumultuous waters of the Missouri River.

  This was not to say that Kearny did not work his men hard. When not drilling the dragoons, he had them deployed on far-ranging patrols. His duty was to protect a thousand miles of frontier with a force that never exceeded six hundred men. He was to preserve the peace among the various Indian tribes, escorting the eastern Indians—some ninety thousand in number—to their new homeland, and making sure the indigenous Indians—estimated to number a quarter of a million—did not prey upon the newcomers. Then, too, an increasing number of emigrants were embarking on the Oregon Trail for points west, and their presence was a source of never-ending concern to the redman.

  Fortunately, most of the Indians in the region knew and respected Kearny. They called him Shonga Kahega Mahetonga—Horse Chief of the Long Knives. They knew his word was good, and they usually thought twice about incurring his wrath.

  Kearny was respected by the men under his command, too. At the age of nineteen he had been commissioned a captain during the War of 1812. He had served with distinction in the Winnebago War and been involved in a highly successful military expedition to the Yellowstone country. Few soldiers knew the frontier as well as he.

  A strict disciplinarian, Kearny had molded the First Dragoons into what all agreed was the finest fighting force in the United States Army. They were drilled to perfection. Kearny himself had written the Carbine Manual of Rules for the Exercise and Maneuvering of U.S. Dragoons, the Army's standard text on cavalry training and tactics. Every soldier in Kearny's command was steady, industrious, healthy, and vigilant, reported General Edmund P. Gaines, commander of the Western Department, and no regiment presented a finer appearance on parade—an appearance enhanced by the fact that Kearny had assigned the regimental mounts to the various companies according to color. In summing up his inspection of the First Dragoons, Gaines concluded that Kearny's command were "the best troops I have ever seen."

  Hugh Falconer thought well of Kearny. "He is one of the few officers I have met who is worth his salt," declared the frontiersman, and during the journey from St. Louis to Fort Leavenworth he related to Delgado some of Kearny's accomplishments.

  There had been a problem with the Seminoles. Of the Five Civilized Tribes, the Seminoles had contested removal most vigorously, to which any veteran of the First or Second Seminole Wars in Florida could attest. Even after being transferred to their reservation on the Canadian River in the Indian Territory, the Seminoles continued to be recalcitrant troublemakers, especially among the neighboring Cherokees. With five companies, Kearny marched through rough country to settle accounts once and for all with the Seminoles.

  When Nacklemaha, the Seminole chief, responded to Kearny's request for a parlay, he arrogantly proceeded to inform the colonel that his people did not like the land to which they had been assigned. They preferred the land given to the Cherokees. That, replied Kearny, was just too damned bad. He ordered the Seminoles to depart at once for the Canadian. Instead, they made a break for open country. Kearny pursued, executing a perilous crossing of a rain-swollen river, and captured the Seminoles without the loss of a single life on either side. Nacklemaha realized then that he had met his match in Kearny, a man of iron will and steel nerves who would have his way regardless of the obstacles in his path. Thereafter, the Seminoles made relatively little trouble.

  On another occasion the caravan of an Albuquerque trader, laden with furs and gold b
ullion, was ambushed by a gang of Texas plunderers led by one "Captain" McDaniel. Border desperados like McDaniel claimed to have commissions issued by the Republic of Texas to prey on the New Mexican caravans, in the same way that privateers used letters of marque to prowl the seven seas in search of booty. Falconer believed such Texas commissions had in fact been issued. But, commission or not, Kearny considered McDaniel and his gang nothing more than common road agents and ordered a vigorous manhunt, which finally led to the apprehension of the Texans. McDaniel and one of his cohorts were tried and hanged, and the rest imprisoned, prompt justice which, Falconer testified, had gone a long way toward making the Santa Fe Trail a safer route to travel, since other Texas raiders thought twice about tangling with Colonel Kearny and the First Dragoons.

  By the time he reached Fort Leavenworth, Delgado was eager to meet this man Kearny, who had only recently been promoted to the rank of Brevet Brigadier General. His wish was immediately granted. Upon being informed of the arrival of Falconer's party, the general requested their presence in his office, forthwith. While he and the frontiersman greeted one another like old friends—and Kearny elicited Falconer's agreement to serve as the expedition's chief scout—Delgado had a moment to take Kearny's measure. He saw a man in his early fifties, yet fit and trim, without an ounce of fat on his athletic frame, impeccable in his dark blue uniform, with a firm, determined mouth and a direct, almost piercing gaze.

  Delgado had wondered how he would be received by Kearny, who was, after all, the man who prepared to lead an expedition against the Republic of Mexico, but if Kearny had any doubts regarding Delgado's loyalties, he did not reveal them.

  "I am glad to meet you, sir," said Kearny, proffering a hand, which Delgado took in his own firm grasp. "I am sorry I did not have the time to do so in St. Louis. As you are a resident of Taos, I wonder if you are acquainted with Governor Armijo?"

  Delgado smiled. The pleasantries attended to, it was right down to business with Kearny.

  "Yes, I know Manuel Armijo fairly well."

  "The Santa Fe traders have brought me rather uncomplimentary reports of the governor. They say he is an avaricious, unscrupulous rogue. That he wears flashy uniforms to impress the Indians and mestizos. And that, like the coyote, he is cunning and cowardly. What do you say?"

  Delgado paused, crafting his response judiciously. "Manuel Armijo once told my father that it is better to be thought brave than to be so."

  "The president's advisers tell him my force will encounter only slight resistance from such a man. On the other hand, I've heard a rumor that Armijo has called for five thousand volunteers to meet us on the field of battle. They are to be commanded by a militia officer named Diego Archuleta."

  "It is hard to say about Armijo, General. He may be greedy and tyrannical, and he may even be a coward, but he is no fool. No, sir, on the contrary. He is a very clever fellow, who is able to use both the Indians and the local priests as he pursues his schemes. If he believes he can somehow profit by war, he is capable of stirring the people into resistance. But if he thinks he can profit more by cooperating with you, then he will present you with the keys to the city."

  "I see." Kearny was clearly pleased by the tenor and quality of Delgado's reply. "Then perhaps I should extend the olive leaf to Armijo with one hand, while I draw my sword with the other."

  "General, the Mexican government has virtually abandoned New Mexico. It has never been able to protect the people there from Indian raids. Its soldiers more often prey on the people rather than protect them. Extremely high taxes have been levied, and the merchants must pay duties so high they amount to extortion on the goods that come into the province from the United States. Ever since the province of Texas successfully revolted, New Mexico has been contemplating rebellion."

  "So you are saying that the province is ripe for conquest?"

  Delgado shrugged. "That depends in large measure on how you handle the situation, sir."

  Kearny nodded. "Understood. I am a soldier. Diplomacy is not one of my virtues. But I suspect I shall have to make it so, somehow. Mr. McKinn, would you consider acting as my envoy in this matter? Or, at the very least, my adviser? You know the people we will have to deal with far better than do I or anyone else in my command."

  Delgado was taken aback. This was a grave responsibility Kearny was offering him, and his first instinct was to refuse it. But he did not want to antagonize the general.

  "I will do what I can to prevent bloodshed," he replied. "As long as whatever I do does not have an adverse effect upon my family or my father's business."

  "Very diplomatic," said Kearny wryly. "I see you have the requisite skills for the task at hand. Very well, then, we will leave it at that for the time being."

  "Let me say one more thing, General. I have heard some Americans express the opinion that the Mexican people are an inferior race who will not stand or fight, or who, if they do fight, will be easily beaten. I hope you do not share that opinion, sir. I know these people. They are proud and prone to be fiercely independent. Armijo may be tyrannical in his habits, but even he is wise enough not to push the people too far, or to try and fool them into thinking he is not robbing them of their freedoms."

  "Thank you, Mr. McKinn. I will take your advice to heart."

  "I hope I have not offended you by anything I have said."

  "On the contrary. I appreciate a forthright man." Kearny turned to Jeremy. "So, Lieutenant Bledsoe. I understand you have resigned your commission in the Army and joined the volunteers."

  "I had no choice, sir," replied Jeremy. "After being wounded at Resaca de la Palma, the Army placed me on the inactive list. To be removed from that list requires an assault on the War Department bureaucracy, and you must know yourself how long and frustrating such an endeavor can be."

  "So you were afraid the war might be over before you could get back into the thick of the action, is that it?"

  "In a nutshell, sir."

  "Well, personally, I believe the war will drag on for years. The Army will miss a man of your obvious qualities, Mr. Bledsoe. But God knows the volunteers can use all the help they can get." Kearny moved to the window from which he could see Fort Leavenworth's parade ground. A company of the First Missouri in their sky-blue roundabouts was at this very moment drilling, much to the amusement of a handful of off-duty Regulars who had gathered to watch the show. Kearny pursed his lips and shook his head. "They are full of enthusiasm. The rage militaire has swept the land. But they are blissfully unaware of the awful price in human suffering which men must pay in war."

  "There's revenge, too," said Falconer. "It isn't just the Texans who still resent what Santa Anna did during the revolution down there. Men from nearly every state in the Union died at the Alamo and at Goliad. There were fifty Pennsylvanians, five companies of Georgians, and more than one hundred Alabamians among those who were massacred alongside Fannin. Old scores remain to be settled."

  "That is precisely what worries me," confessed Kearny. "I must keep a short rein on Doniphan's Volunteers once we reach New Mexico, or we may find ourselves ankle-deep in blood."

  2

  Missouri's Governor Edwards had called for one thousand volunteers, and though Doniphan's command was known as the First Missouri Mounted Volunteers, Kearny had received authorization from the War Department to turn eight hundred of them into infantry. He gave as his reason for making the request the scarcity of forage around Santa Fe, the wisdom of which was swiftly confirmed by Washington. That suited Doniphan, since many of his raw recruits had arrived on foot, and he would have had a difficult time trying to find enough mounts for a thousand men.

  Part of the problem was that in addition to four thousand pack and draft mules, Kearny had combed the countryside and requisitioned nearly five hundred horses for transport and supply. The general had also commandeered every wagon and teamster in the region. Thousands of head of cattle were rounded up, beef on the hoof.

  Doniphan's Volunteers were mustered into ser
vice and assigned to their companies as they arrived at Fort Leavenworth. Already, enough recruits had answered the call to arms to fill thirteen companies.

  "These men live on the frontier," Doniphan told Jeremy Bledsoe when the latter reported for duty. "They can ride and shoot. No one needs to teach them about guns and horses. It's the rudiments of tactics we must instill in them, and that is where your experience in the Regulars will pay dividends. But I warn you, sir, this will be no easy task. For three weeks they have been drilled morning and afternoon, and believe you me, they do not relish military discipline. The novelty of army life has worn off. These boys can't figure out how strict discipline and monotonous drill and prompt obedience to orders can have much of anything to do with the destruction of Mexicans, for which they seem to have a raging thirst."

  Doniphan went on to inform Jeremy that, since it was time-honored tradition for the volunteers to elect their own officers, he was assigning Jeremy to his own staff. "I will encourage all company commanders to consult with you regarding drill. Most of them are as unacquainted as their men with the manuals." The lawyer turned soldier smiled. "In fact, if the truth be known, so am I. Ask me anything about Kent's Commentaries or Rawles's On the Constitution and you will have your answer. But I must confess I am struggling with the Carbine Manual."

  The post surgeon, John Strother Griffin, a veteran army doctor whose better than average medical skills were matched by his talent for profanity, was still conducting physical examinations on the hundreds of volunteers. Because of the rush to put men into the field, the physical exams of volunteers did not often meet War Department requirements. But Kearny insisted that the men who followed him to Santa Fe were to be subjected to physicals in strict accordance with the Army's regulations. The expedition would be an arduous one, and Kearny did not care to be hampered by a long sick train.