Michener, James A.

by Texas

  Armstrong Asperson was an awkward, inept, stoop-shouldered fellow who should have worn a frown to reflect his inability to adjust to the normal world. Instead, regardless of what disaster overtook him, and he was prone to disasters, he grinned vacuously

  and with a startling show of teeth. Did it rain when his men had no ponchos? He grinned. Did Wetzel give him his daily chewing out? He grinned. After he had been at the fort for about a week he went down to Suds Row for his laundry, and one of the toughest washerwomen summarized him in words which ricocheted about the station: They hung the clock on the wall but forgot two of the parts.'

  So young Asperson, with two parts missing, was heading for his first battle, and both his colonel and his company were aghast to think that soon they might be fighting alongside this grinning scarecrow. Wetzel treated him with contempt and Jaxifer with condescension. 'What we got to do, men,' he said, 'is stay close to him if anything happens so he don't shoot hisse'f in the foot.'

  Jaxifer, whose entire life had been spent protecting himself from the peculiarities of white bosses, found little difficulty in adjusting either to Wetzel's injustices or to Asperson's inadequacies. Of Wetzel he said: 'Look, men, he infantry and he just don't know nothin' 'bout cavalry. Keep yore mouf shut.' Of Asperson: 'Remember, even General Grant, he have to start somewhere. But I doubt he start as low as Asperson.'

  Thanks to Jaxifer's counsel, the long march ended without incident, and during the second day in their quarters at Bravo they met for the first time a Texas Ranger, and they were not impressed. He wore no uniform; in an almost ludicrous manner he carried strapped to his saddle two rifles and four Colts, and nothing about him was army-clean. A small, wiry man in his late forties, he reported to Wetzel's tent wearing a long white linen duster that came to his ankles.

  Without saluting, the small, diffident man said: 'You Wetzel? I'm Macnab.'

  'You?' Wetzel said in unmasked surprise. 'I thought you'd be much bigger.'

  '1 look bigger when I'm on a horse,' Macnab said without smiling. Tm sure glad to have your help.' And without further amenities he began to draw maps in the sand outside Wetzel's tent.

  'It's tough down here,' Macnab said. 'Maybe even tougher than fighting Comanche.'

  'Now that would be pretty tough.'

  'Problem is, this Benito Garza, I've known him all my life, he's a lot smarter than me, and if you'll permit the expression, maybe a lot smarter than most of your men.'

  'I've heard that,' Wetzel said, displaying a professional interest in a military situation. 'How does he operate?'

  'Clever as a possum,' Macnab said, and he let his explanation end as the cook beat upon a ring, signaling supper

  While Wetzel smoked his cigar at sunset, Macnab resuin map drawing. 'Garza waits till something happens on this side of the border And things do happen.'

  'Like hanging Mexican landowners?'

  'Mexicans ask for hanging,' Macnab said. 'But when it happens, Garza feels he must retaliate. And he does.'

  in the same region 7 '

  Macnab looked about for a blade of grass, found one. and chewed on it: 'Now there's the problem. Always he confuses us Four times in a row he strikes within a mile of where some Mexican was hanged. Next time, fifty miles away.'

  'How can you anticipate?'

  Macnab chewed on his grass, then confessed: 'We can't ' There was a long silence, then as darkness approached from the east, Macnab said quietly: 'Captain Wetzel, let me tell you what's going on now.'

  'Proceed.'

  'We have good reason to think that Garza has taken command of a ranch, El Solitario, about ten miles south of here. He has forty, fifty men there, and they fan out to execute their revenge up and down the river.'

  No one spoke. More than two minutes passed without a word, for each of the three men attending the meeting knew what Macnab was proposing: that he and his Rangers cross the Rio Grande, make a sudden descent upon the hidden ranch, shoot Garza, and rely upon the United States Army to support them as they beat a frantic retreat with forty or fifty well-mounted Mexican riders striving to overtake them.

  Still silent, Macnab drew in the sand the location of Bravo, the river, the distant location of Rancho El Solitario, plus the circuitous route to it and the short, frenzied retreat back to the Rio Grande. When everything was in place he said softly: 'It could be done.'

  Bluntly, Wetzel scuffed his foot along the escape route: 'You mean, if someone came along here to hold off your pursuers 7 '

  'Couldn't be done otherwise.'

  Wetzel leaned back, folded his arms like an irritated German schoolmaster, and said: 'I have the strictest orders forbidding me to step one inch onto Mexican soil.'

  'I'm sure you do,' Macnab said quietly. 'But what if my sixteen Rangers came down that road you just scratched out, with fifty-Mexicans sure to overtake us before we reached the river?'

  'I would have my men lined up on this side of the river, every gun at the ready. Sergeant Gerton and a Gatling gun would be prepared to rake the river if the Mexicans tried to invade this side. And I would pray for you.'

  'Would you allow your men to come to the middle of the river to help 7 '

  is that the boundary between the two countries?'

  'It is.'

  'My best gunners would be there.'

  Now came the time for a direct question: 'But you wouldn't come into Mexico to help?'

  'Absolutely not.'

  That ended the consultation, so without showing his disappointment, Macnab rode back to his own camp upriver, and it was unfortunate that he went in that direction because downriver some recent arrivals from Tennessee slew four Mexicans trying to prevent illegal seizure of their ancestral ranch land.

  Next morning, about noon, Otto Macnab was back to consult with Wetzel: 'I'm sure Garza will strike within the next three days. But where?'

  'Do you think we should scatter our forces?'

  i really don't know. If he starts out now, within three days he could be almost anywhere. Since spies must have informed him of your arrival, he'll hit somewhere near here, to shame you.'

  'So we should stay put?'

  'I think so.'

  Garza, infuriated by the killing of peasants trying to protect land once owned by his mother, Trinidad de Saldana, was grimly determined to let the intruders know that this fight was going to be interminable and, as Macnab had predicted, he could do this most effectively by striking close to the new encampment. He allowed five days to lapse, then six, then seven, so that the Rangers and the soldiers would be disoriented. On the night of the eighth day he rode with thirty of his best men across the Rio Grande and devastated two ranches east of Bravo, killing three Texans and escaping to safety before either the Rangers or the soldiers could be alerted.

  He took his men on a wide swing back to the safety of El Solitario. This nest of adobe houses was completely surrounded by a high stone-and-adobe wall, which enclosed fruit trees, a well and enough cattle to feed his men for more than a month. It was a frontier ranch, so built as to protect its inhabitants from assaults coming from any direction, but its major asset was that it lay far

  enough inland from the river to make an attack from Texas unlikely.

  Macnab did not think it was impregnable: 'Informers tell us Garza did the job downriver with no more than thirty men, who are now holed up at his ranch with about twenty others. I'm going in there and finish Benito Garza.'

  He spoke these words not to Wetzel but to his Rangers, sixteen of them, the youngest only sixteen years old. Then he added: I do not order any of you to come with me, but I'm inviting volunteers.' As two men stepped forward he stopped them: 'You know, I've been after Garza for thirty years. I've made it my life's work I have to go. You don't.'

  i want him too,' a thin, fierce Texan said. 'He killed my brother.'

  Every Ranger volunteered, but the boy lie turned back: 'No, Sam. It wouldn't be fair.'

  'I'm here because he burned our ranch.'

  'Well, you stay
behind and lead the troops when they come to rescue us.'

  'They said they wouldn't do that.'

  'That's what they said, but they'll come. Lead them to that fork we saw on our last scout.' When the boy showed his disappoint ment, Macnab asked: 'You remember where the fork is 7 We'll be coming there hell-for-leather. Have the soldiers in position to do us some good.'

  He took off his duster, folded it neatly, and stowed it. His men placed beside it things they did not care to risk on this adventure, and when everyone was ready, Macnab took out his watch and handed it to the boy, instructing him as to how it should be used. At five that afternoon Captain Macnab and his Rangers forded the Rio Grande, rode north, then cut into heavy mesquite. Through the night they moved cautiously toward Garza's ranch, but at half an hour before sunup they had the bad luck to be spotted by Mexicans living on a smaller ranch. There was some noise and a scattering of chickens, after which a young man shouted: 'Rin-ches!'

  Men started running for their horses, but each was shot before he could mount. There would be no messenger riding forth from this ranch, and to ensure that no woman tried to spread the alarm, all horses in the corral were shot, and Rangers bound the four remaining women and locked them m a room

  It was nearly dawn when Macnab's men reached the high walls of the Garza compound, and now a brief council of war was held, not to devise tactics, for they had been agreed upon days before,

  but to specify tasks. At a signal, four Rangers crashed through the main gate, paving the way for the rest to follow. There was a blaze of gunfire, and then in the doorway appeared the white-haired figure of Benito Garza, his two pistols drawn, ready for battle.

  Macnab, who had anticipated such an appearance, steadied his rifle against a watering trough and for a second recalled that similar moment on the eve of the battle at Buena Vista when through gallantry he had allowed Garza to escape, and he saw also that incredible scene in 1848 when Garza had passed by him within inches during the escape of Santa Anna into exile. 'Not this time, Uncle Benito,' he muttered as Garza started to leave the doorway.

  The heavy bullet sped straight to the heart, and the great bandit, protector of his people, lurched forward, expecting to see his ancient enemy in some shadow, but he saw nothing, and toppled to his death.

  'Away!' Macnab shouted, and according to plan, three of the Rangers tried to shoot the Mexican horses, but failed. In a wild exit, during which one of the daring Texans was picked off, fifteen Rangers including Macnab made their escape from within the high walls and started their ride of desperation toward the river.

  At four o'clock that morning the sixteen-year-old ranger began looking at Captain Macnab's watch, and at four-thirty he followed instructions. Galloping his horse past the sentries, he pulled up at Captain Wetzel's tent and shouted: 'The Rangers are attacking El Solitario!'

  'When 7 ' Wetzel cried as he left his tent with a sheet about his shoulders.

  'Right now!'

  'Why wasn't I warned?'

  'I am warning you. Captain Macnab told me: "Tell him at four-thirty. I don't want him to worn' all night."

  'Bugler, sound assembly!' and in the darkness Wetzel mustered his men, ordering them into full battle gear.

  'Are we going across to help 7 ' Sergeant Gerton asked, and Wetzel said: 'No.'

  At dawn he mounted his black charger and rode about supervising the placement of his troops, putting his best sharpshooters along the American bank of the Rio Grande. He personally directed Gerton and his two men where to place their Gatling gun to command the crossing. He called for volunteers to wade ouL into the shallow river and point their guns to where the fleeing Rangers would probably appear, and then he rode to where his Buffalo Soldiers were encamped, some distance from the white troops.

  curt order: Take half your company and guard that otl ing '

  Then he rode to where Sergeant Jaxifer waited with ten mounted troopers, and started this crucial conversation:

  wetzel: You know what's happening over there 7

  jaxifer: I can guess.

  wetzel: You know my orders?

  jaxifer: Yes, sir.

  wetzel: When those Rangers come galloping to that river, what will you and your men do?

  jaxifer: Wait for orders.

  wetzel: Will you he ready to cross and hold back the Mexicans?

  jaxifer: We ready right now.

  wetzel (listening for the sound of gun fire to begin) : 1 've learned respect for you on this trip, jaxifer. Why do we have so much trouble with our white infantrv and so little with vour black cavalry?

  jaxifer: Because we black.

  wetzel: What does that mean?

  jaxifer: You white officers never understand.

  wetzel: Tell me.

  jaxifer: In the whole United States ain't iiothin' a black man can hope for half as good as bein' in the Buffalo Soldiers. Black mens dream of this, they pray, they do almost anything for white mens, just to get in the Tenth Cavalry. I'm the biggest black man in Texas, because I'm a sergeant in the Tenth. Colonel Wetzel, I will die rather than lose that job.

  wetzel: Why didn't you tell me this before^

  jaxifer: Because it's our secret. We ain't never before had honor, but we got it now, and we will not risk it.

  wetzel: What does that mean to me this morning 7

  jaxifer: Without orders from you, we don't move. With orders, we'll ride to Mexico City or die tryin'.

  wetzel: Everything ready 7

  jaxifer: When you sent Asperson away, I kept the best men with me. We all want to be on the far side of that river.

  wetzel: If the Mexicans make one wrong nunc, I'll lead you.

  jaxifer: We hungry to go.

  The two men remained astride their horses, immobilized by the great traditions of their army. Jaxifer desperately wanted to lead his men in a charge to rescue the white fighters; that was the whole purpose of his cavalry and the reason for his being m uniform, but he could not move, even though the Rangers died, unless he had

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  an order. And Captain Wetzel, who had followed soldiering since a boy, in both Germany and America, longed for battle. He loved it, loved the excitement of the chase, the fury of the sudden explosion when armies met. But he had unmistakable orders to refrain unless the United States was invaded.

  But then the secret words of Major Comstock echoed: 'The officer will be expected to follow the highest traditions of the army.' That had to mean the rescue of fellow Americans in danger, and for such action he was more than prepared. Spurring his horse toward the river, with Jaxifer following, he turned and said: i hope those Mexicans make one mistake, fire one bullet into our territory.'

  The tangled reflections of the two impatient soldiers were broken by the appearance of the young Ranger. 'Where are you going?' Wetzel asked and the boy replied: 'To lead the niggers to where the trails meet.'

  'Who told you to do that?'

  'Captain Macnab. He was sure that when you heard gunfire you'd send them, no matter what your orders said/

  Disgusted by this unprofessional behavior on the part of the Rangers and wishing to rid himself of the boy, Wetzel growled: 'They're down there,' indicating the other crossing, where lanky Lieutenant Asperson sat grinning with a smaller group of Buffalo Soldiers.

  While Wetzel and Jaxifer were agonizing over their alter-natives, Otto Macnab and his Rangers were in full retreat, fighting a rear-guard action of desperation, and they might have escaped without help from the hesitant soldiers had not a daring Mexican bandit, accompanied by six others, known of a shortcut to the river. Pounding down its narrow turns, these determined men reached a point on the escape route just before Macnab, and a furious gun battle raged, forcing the Rangers to move downriver from their planned route.

  This threw them onto a trail which would bring them to the lesser crossing of the Rio Grande, guarded by the lesser black cavalry, and as the Rangers and their pursuers approached the river, Asperson could hear the sound of gunfire. Excited b
y the likelihood of his first battle, he started his Buffalo Soldiers toward the river, then stopped them in obedience to the orders he had memorized. The young Ranger, watching with dismay as the rescue operation halted, pulled a clever trick. Throwing a sharp pebble at Asperson's horse, he made the horse rear, and the nervous/ lieutenant cried in a high voice: 'My God, we're under attack!'

  Consulting no one, waiting for no verification, he waved his

  revolver in the air as if it were a sword, and shouted 'To the rescue.' For him there was no anxiety, no nagging moral problem Americans were under attack by foreigners, and by ( lod hi going to do something about it With a roar, his black troops followed.

  During the disorganized charge, in which black cavalrymen passed and repassed their ungainly leader, he did retain enough control to order the bugler to sound 'Charge' so that the i guered Rangers would know of their coming. Because of the uneven terrain, the bugle kept slipping from the bugler's lips, but tlie-broken sounds did reach the battle area, giving the Rangers hope and throwing their pursuers into confusion.

  Macnab said later: The Buffalo Soldiers came roaring out of the mesquite like six different armies. They were a mob, but they were magnificent.'

  The confused battle—more like a riot, really—lasted only a few minutes. Not many Mexicans were killed and no Americans, but when it was over, Macnab and Asperson rode like Roman victors down to the Rio Grande, and as they splashed their horses into that shallow, muddy stream, the regular armv on the American side went berserk. The advance guard, standing in the river, fired indiscriminately. Sergeant Gerton and his Gatling gun sprayed the empty Mexican shore, the others cheered, and Wetzel looked on in amazement.