Return to the Alamo

by Paul Bedford

  Slamming my left boot into the back of his left knee, I followed up by smashing my knife hilt into the right side of his head. With an anguished groan he collapsed onto the damp boarding. Bending over him, I grabbed his lank, greasy hair with my left hand and brought the knife up under his chin, so that the well-honed blade nicked his Adam’s apple.

  ‘Can you hear me?’

  His response to that was another groan, which at least confirmed that he was still conscious. Tightening my grip on his hair, I tried again. ‘Answer me, or I’ll cut into your gullet.’

  This time he displayed remarkable clarity. ‘I hear you, Your Honour. You be a fellow Englishman an’ that’s no error. So why the cutting tool?’

  Ignoring the question, I again nicked his flesh, this time drawing blood. ‘What brings you here? What is your business?’

  His sour breath reached up to me as he answered. ‘I’m an honest sailor, Your Honour. Fresh in from New Orleans this day. There’s always work on this coast for an able seaman.’

  Now I knew that he was lying. ‘No ordinary seaman is paid in gold sovereigns,’ I hissed. ‘Who are you? Talk, or I’ll cut you a new mouth!’

  Pressing on with the blade, so that it actually sliced flesh, I left him with no illusions as to my intent and this time his reply confirmed all my worst fears.

  ‘God’s bones, you’re out to kill me! Speirs. Cap’n Speirs brung me, along with four others.’

  ‘Why?’ I almost screamed the word, such was my agitated state.

  ‘We’re after some cove name of Collins. He’s upset someone an’ no mistake. Never seen the Cap’n with so much specie.’ He wriggled to ease the pressure from my knife, but I countered this by pressing my knee into his back.

  ‘So the sovereigns came from him?’

  ‘That an’ m—’

  I never heard the rest. From behind me came a startled oath, as some gentleman unexpectedly walked in on a most unpleasant scene. Instinctively turning, I relaxed the pressure and it was all that my captive needed. Powering upwards, he thrust me back into a privy screen. It was built for modesty rather than strength and collapsed under my weight. Lying on my back, I kicked out with both legs and then swept the knife around in a wide arc. My opponent, for that was what he had become, had already rolled clear. Scrambling to my feet, I swiftly scanned the building. The individual who had discovered us had vanished, although whether permanently, or simply seeking assistance I knew not. My fellow countryman had pulled a long, narrow-bladed knife from his right boot. Watching me closely, he ignored the steady trickle of blood that was now staining his shirt. He had wisely decided that the single shot pistol in his belt was too cumbersome at such close quarters. I was in a similar situation. My Paterson Colt required cocking before it was ready to fire, so I too retained my knife.

  ‘You’re him, aren’t you?’

  Without taking my eyes off him, I gave a small bow. ‘Thomas Collins at your service, and you would be?’

  The other man sneered. ‘Oh very posh, very correct. I be Sergeant Daniel Flaxton, sir. I never even struck an officer before, but one thing’s for sure, I’m going to right enjoy killing me a major. Since it’s all legal like, they might even give me a medal for it!’

  Holding his gaze I replied, ‘Many have tried,’ and then did the exact opposite of what he would’ve been expecting. Stepping smartly backwards, I swiftly picked up the privy screen that I had collided with. It was thinly cut timber and not much of a shield, but it could serve to disguise my intentions. Gripping it in my left hand, I advanced steadily on Flaxton, who was warily observing my actions. Suddenly I rushed forward and threw the screen straight at the startled soldier. He had two options: to retreat, or stand his ground. He chose the wrong one and remaining rooted to the spot, savagely smashed the screen aside. As he did so, I dropped into a crouch and thrust my blade into his left thigh, twisting it viciously before withdrawing it. With a high-pitched scream he staggered back, slashing to left and right with his own knife. Fresh blood began to stain his trousers.

  ‘You know, it doesn’t have to be like this, Sergeant,’ I called out softly.

  The ugly scar twisted across his mouth as he spat out a response. ‘You damned cockchafer, I’ll slice you so your own whore mother won’t recognize you!’

  Throwing all caution to the wind, he launched himself towards me, but the nasty wound had served to slow him down. Shifting rapidly to my right, I then kicked out at his injured leg, catching him just above the knee. Unable to stop himself, Flaxton crashed face down onto the foul smelling boarding and lay there moaning in agony.

  Twisting round, I threw my full weight on top of him, crushing any remaining breath from his lungs. Again I found myself gripping a clump of his lank hair, only this time I determined to finish the job. Yanking his head back, I placed my blade to his throat and .. . froze.

  The keen edge was already drawing blood. I had him totally at my mercy, but I just couldn’t do it. Apparently, the man was a serving soldier in the British Army. However reprehensible his task may have been, he was doing his duty as instructed. I could not, in all conscience, take his life.

  Cursing myself for a damned fool, I released his hair. Upturning the knife, so that I was now gripping it by the reverse of the blade, I slammed the hilt down onto the sergeant’s skull. Getting to my feet, I glanced down at his supine body. Whether the man survived or died was now up to him and any god that he chose to recognize. Somehow I knew that I was going to regret my decision, but I also knew that I had to live by my rules, because to transgress would be the end of me.

  Turning away, I sheathed my knife and walked cautiously out of the privy, absurdly aware that I hadn’t even relieved myself.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Rapidly skirting the outside of the saloon, I arrived at the main entrance, reasoning that anyone watching the rear would be caught off guard. It also brought me closer to Kirby and Travis, whilst avoiding Vicky’s undoubted charms. Having swiftly dusted myself off, I strolled nonchalantly, or so I hoped, into the large smoky room and sat down at their table. Travis’s nose twitched and then he slammed the table, guffawing loudly.

  ‘You were supposed to piss in the privy, not swim in it. Jesus, what a stink!’

  Naïvely seeking confirmation, I looked over at Kirby and received an exaggerated shrug of the shoulders. ‘You do smell a mite rank. And you’ve got some pilgrim’s blood on your chin.’

  Alarmed, I rubbed it on the inside of my sleeve. Could I really have expected to walk away from such a confrontation without displaying any sign of it?

  Kirby smiled as he continued, ‘You won’t be the first fella to walk in here with blood on him, but mayhap it’s time to leave. Unless you really intend poking that Dutch Gal.’

  Travis staggered to his feet, shaking with a suppressed mirth that was beginning to annoy me. Together we shouldered our way through the crowded room. Once outside, I asked Kirby if he had seen anything unusual at the rear of the saloon after I had left.

  ‘One citizen rushed in looking like he’d just seen Christ on the cross. Whatever you was about in there, he wanted none of it.’

  I related what had happened and the ranger raised his eyebrows. ‘That sense of honour’s gonna get you kilt one of these fine days. You’d better stay off the streets until we go for the powder. If that fella lives they’ll know you’re in the burg, but not where.’

  Back in our bedroom the ranger became strangely withdrawn. Without another word he stripped down to his grubby underclothes and tumbled into bed. Dousing the oil lights, I too collapsed wearily onto mine, briefly wondering where our companions were. I looked across the room, through the darkness, to where Kirby lay. His breathing was regular, but I doubted that he was actually asleep. The soft mattress would be too much of a shock for him. It was a long time before I finally dropped off that night.

  The unaccustomed noise of a busy thoroughfare awoke me early the next morning and immediately I was assailed by a multitude of unsettling
thoughts. Amongst them was guilt at the memory of my enthusiastic response to Vicky’s amorous caresses. Sarah might have remained in San Antonio, but she was clearly etched in my mind.

  Stifling a groan, I clambered out of bed, poured cold water into a basin and doused my face. Only moderately refreshed, I turned to Kirby’s bed, to find him wide-awake and scrutinizing me. From his mode of greeting he had evidently been conscious and pondering on our situation for some time.

  ‘You notice anything wrong today, any little thing at all, and you holler. And make it good and loud, or you might not get the chance to give no two hollers. The powder means too much to us to let the British Army mess it all up! And if it comes to shooting, remember they might be your countrymen but they ain’t your kin, so aim to kill.’

  He was deadly serious, as was my reply. ‘What concerns me is getting off this island with our wagons loaded with gunpowder. They’ll make a lethal target.’

  ‘And you’ll be riding atop one of them, which is kind of fitting, considering this mess is all your making.’

  The ranger had obviously been doing a lot of thinking. The fact that he was correct rankled, but at the same time I was beginning to get annoyed at the hostility that he was demonstrating towards me. ‘Now see here, old boy, if it wasn’t for my gold you wouldn’t be here at all!’

  ‘It ain’t your gold. You stole it and now they’re hunting you. And I ain’t your boy!’

  ‘My reasons for remaining in this country don’t concern you, Ranger Kirby. Back in San Antonio, before I ever agreed to this undertaking, I warned Captain Hays that anyone pursuing me would arrive at this port. And do you know what he replied?’

  Kirby eyed me warily, knowing that I was going to tell him anyway. ‘He said, “Send them straight to hell, Thomas,” and with or without your help, that’s just what I intend to do. But without resorting to cold-blooded murder.’

  The pitying look that accompanied his response showed just what he thought of my scruples. ‘You’re not playing some civilized game out here. If any of my men die through this, I’ll hold you to account!’

  And there we left it. It was too early in the day for a prolonged argument.

  We were a strained and altogether different group as we gathered for breakfast that morning. The light-hearted anticipation of the previous evening had vanished. Travis was badly hungover. The habitually silent member of our party, Kirkham Shockley, maintained that pose. The other four had had varying degrees of success with the opposite sex. The ranger known as Frenchie was concerned that he might have contracted the pox.

  ‘Was only when the bitch turned up the lamp that I saw the sores on her. Shit, I was out of there like a Pronghorn.’

  ‘You’ll have been moving too fast to get your money back then,’ chided Tobias.

  ‘Yeah, but was she pretty?’ This from Ben Fielder who, from the tone in his voice, had not been fully satisfied by the previous night’s activities.

  Frenchie peered at him, bemused that his first description of her had not been sufficient. ‘Oh yeah, pretty darned good at being ugly and pretty likely to stay that way!’

  Swallowing a mouthful of coffee, I determined to bring our carriage back on track. Stabbing the table directly in front of Kirby with a forefinger, I said quietly but forcefully, ‘If this mission is to succeed we all need to pull together, regardless of any change in circumstances. It is what your captain would expect!’

  Jerking, as though I had slapped his face, Kirby fixed his hard eyes on mine for a long moment, before favouring me with a slow smile. ‘You sure are a push hard, ain’t you?’

  No answer was expected or given and he slapped the tabletop, raising his voice slightly as he continued. ‘Right, listen up, all of you. We go right ahead as planned, but the major here has got himself a problem. Maybe even five or six of them. And until we get the powder back to Béxar, they’re also our problem, savvy? Thing is, as we don’t know what they look like, they’ve got the first move. So we’ve got to be ready!’

  The others absorbed his little speech, some of them looking decidedly puzzled. Not all of them had heard of my confrontation in the privy.

  Out on the street, I held my shotgun cocked and pointing at the sky. My nerves were on edge, my palms were sweating and I was definitely beginning to regret not killing Flaxton while I had had the chance. The rangers spread out, so as not to present a closely packed target. My back felt clammy, far more than was warranted by the gentle sunshine. As we made our way through the streets of Galveston, I was aware of many curious glances from the various idlers and bystanders. Belatedly I realized that we were doing ourselves a disservice. Word was bound to spread of our heavily armed excursion. Glancing rapidly at Kirby, I instinctively knew that he had made the same judgement, for then he shrugged his shoulders, as if to say, ‘What the hell else can we do?’

  Finally we reached the stables. The teams were hitched and Travis and I clambered aboard. Clattering through the streets, I couldn’t help but think how vulnerable we were to an ambuscade. Yet on the return journey we would be loaded down with the most dangerous man-made substance yet invented.

  Transacting our business with Samuel Williams at his Twenty-Fourth Street wharf took remarkably little time. My gold sovereigns saw to that. Both wagons were soon fully loaded with a lethal cargo of Du Pont’s fine grain gunpowder. Yet something had occurred that had caused me great concern. Williams, whilst happy to take my money, had been desperately reluctant not to hand over all his supply of powder. It had taken Kirby’s threats of extreme violence to persuade him to accede to my demands. Thereafter, the ranger was too busy supervising the loading to give the matter much thought, but as we rattled our way towards the ferry I couldn’t help but wonder just who it might be, that could have given the bulky, outspoken businessman the shakes.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Arriving at Eagle Grove for the return ferry ride, I received a not entirely unwelcome surprise. Standing there, large as life, was none other than the fragrant Miss Vicky Fulsome. She was clad in rather more sober attire than the previous night, but didn’t appear any the less attractive for it. From the look of her stout boots and thick coat, she seemed prepared for a journey of some sort. The bulging carpet bag, partially concealed behind her, supported this impression. Beaming innocently up at me, she greeted me with, ‘Well, well, if it ain’t the handsome stranger. Hello, lover.’

  The lean and moody Kirkham Shockley twisted sharply in his saddle to face me and snarled out, ‘What’s the whore doing here?’

  Before I could answer, Travis fired off his own comment. ‘Guess the British Army likes to travel with all its comforts.’

  The others laughed, but Kirby snapped out, ‘Button it, all of you. I don’t believe this is the major’s doing, is it?’

  ‘Deuced right it isn’t,’ I returned indignantly. ‘I have enough on my mind without adding to my woes.’ Sharply I asked her, ‘What just happens to bring you here?’

  ‘Didn’t realize I needed your leave to take a ferry ride. You fixing on taking the crossing as well then?’

  ‘We have business elsewhere, ma’am, and short of buying a ship, this is the only way off the island,’ replied a sarcastic, but surprisingly eloquent Frenchie.

  Vicky ignored him and instead settled her eyes on mine. ‘Didn’t think I’d be seeing you again. Took off kinda sudden, didn’t you?’

  Feeling ever so slightly embarrassed at having abandoned her, I chose to treat that as a statement and busied myself with leading the team onto the ferry.

  Ignoring my rebuff she tried again. ‘What you got in them barrels?’

  Suddenly very conscious of Kirby’s eyes on me, I knew that I had to think fast. ‘Seeds for sowing,’ I blurted out, grateful that we had tied stout tarpaulins over the barrels.

  ‘Didn’t take you fellas for farmers.’

  ‘You ain’t taken any of us yet, darling,’ returned Travis with a leer.

  ‘I got an age limit and you’re well past it, ol
d man,’ Vicky spat back, obviously well used to handling men, both verbally and physically.

  Whilst this repartee was going on, the other wagon was safely boarded and the rangers led their mounts onto the ferry. The ferrymen viewed our heavily laden wagons with dubious enthusiasm.

  ‘You fellas weren’t in town long,’ commented the leader sourly.

  ‘We like watching you work,’ joked Davey Jackson, the youngest of the rangers.

  Before the watermen could reply, Kirby added softly, ‘So how’s about taking the strain, if you want paying on this trip.’

  Their leader seemed about to reply, but then thought better of it. There had been something in the ranger’s voice that suggested the sooner they crossed over the better. Spitting a stream of tobacco juice over the side, he began heaving on the thick cable.

  Gradually we began to leave the City of Galveston behind. Happy to gaze on the relatively tranquil water, I was at first unaware that Vicky was at my side. Turning to face her, I favoured her with a genuine and unforced smile. She really was most damnably attractive, whatever her profession. Yet surprisingly her expression was grave. Fixing her unblinking eyes on mine, she began to talk and what she had to say chilled me to the core.

  ‘Whatever you fellas is up to don’t matter two beans to me, but I kind of like you. Even if you did run out on me. It mayn’t mean anything, but you ain’t the first off the island this day. There was a pack of fellas travelled over come sunup and one of them spoke kind of funny, just like you.’

  With my heart pounding, I asked her just one question. ‘Was one of them wounded?’

  Looking up at me warily, she nodded. ‘Fella with a scar looked like he’d taken some real hard knocks. Was that you?’