Return to the Alamo

by Paul Bedford

  Swiftly the rangers discarded their handguns. Grabbing their long rifles, they took careful aim at the fast receding horse. Seven men were targeting one small wooden keg and all knew that a successful outcome depended solely on their accuracy. At least one ball had to penetrate, and strike metal at just the right time. Not possessing a rifle, I was spared the strain imposed by such a task. Instead I was poised to break into a run with my ‘two shoot’ gun.

  The ‘pain’ that Kirby had visited on Ben’s horse had placed it in a world of its own. The unfortunate animal appeared to be trying to outrun the anguish engulfing its hindquarters and mercifully in the right direction.

  ‘FIRE!’

  Executing a perfect volley, seven rifles crashed out as one and I was off through the rolling smoke. With a truly awesome boom, the tightly packed powder keg exploded. From somewhere ahead came a high-pitched scream. Something tugged at my sleeve and I prayed that the rangers were close behind me.

  Chest heaving, I reached the uneven ground with its grove of trees and vegetation. Whatever awaited us, it was for me alone to discover.

  The sight that greeted me was far worse than any slaughterhouse, because human beings were involved. Ben’s sacrificial horse no longer existed. It had quite simply disintegrated. The trees, festooned with entrails, were fairly dripping blood. Bizarrely, two of the animal’s severed legs were lying on the ground at an angle of forty-five degrees, as though marking the way ahead. Something that had once been a man, lay near the source of the blast, his features obliterated, yet still clutching a now buckled and useless rifle.

  But the dead, however gruesome, presented no threat. Those still living were another matter, and I had the shotgun tucked tightly into my shoulder, as I searched intently for any movement. All my senses were on alert as I cautiously moved deeper into the trees.

  My heart leapt as, off to my right, I heard the metallic click of a hammer being pulled back. Galvanized into action, I twisted around, fired off one barrel and raced forward through the sulphurous smoke. Ears ringing from the concussion, I searched frantically for my foe. The undergrowth was desperately thick. I should have been hugging the earth, rather than blundering around searching for an unseen enemy. My whole body crawled with tension, whilst my torso was clammy with sweat.

  ‘Christ!’ Mere inches before me gaped a rifle muzzle, and for a fleeting instant I foresaw my own death. Instinctively I swung the shotgun stock around, the butt connecting with the long barrel. The rifle fell from lifeless fingers and I beheld another British soldier, albeit not in uniform, slumped against a tree, blood seeping from multiple wounds. Gazing into dull, half-lidded eyes, I drew a deep breath and shuddered.

  From somewhere close, Travis’s voice bawled out, ‘Hit the dirt,’ and I threw myself to the ground. A ball slewed into the earth mere inches away, and then there was a volley of shots from the rear. That resulted in a high-pitched scream, followed by a flurry of oaths.

  My companions were now level with me, and I got shakily to my feet. No matter how many times I came under fire, I was never entirely free of some reaction to it.

  ‘You did good, fella,’ commented Tobias Walker from off to my left. It was the last thing that he was to say in his short life. From some yards away there was a strange ignition, and a volley of shot flew at us. Tobias uttered a strangled cry and tumbled backwards. Taken aback by the unexpected broadside, we all dropped to the ground. Up ahead there came the sound of horses’ hoofs milling around, as men mounted up.

  Speirs’s unmistakeably cultured voice called out to us. ‘The field is yours, Major Collins. I underestimated you this time. Be assured I will not make that mistake again!’

  With that he wheeled his horse around and with one other companion, galloped off into the hinterland. As the hoof beats receded, an eerie silence settled over the killing ground. Faint wisps of smoke lingered in the undergrowth, as though reluctant to finally disperse. From the detonation of the powder keg to Speirs’s enforced departure, only a handful of minutes had passed. Making an elementary calculation I called out to the others, ‘There must be four of his men remaining hereabouts and I have seen but two.’

  ‘We done holed one over yonder,’ yelled Travis. ‘We’d best spread out until we find the other.’

  The dark and brooding Kirkham Shockley answered softly, ‘No need, there’s bits of one back there apiece.’

  Turning to look down at Tobias, I was shocked to see that he had been hit twice instantaneously. Once in the throat, and again in the temple.

  Kirby was also studying the body. ‘One of them was packing some kind of volley gun.’

  A thought occurred to me. ‘I believe it to be a Pepperbox. In England it is regarded as an officer’s weapon.’

  The Pepperbox was the world’s first true revolver and pre-dated Samuel Colt’s invention by several years. Rapid fire was possible, as the hammer did not require cocking before each shot. Unfortunately the gun had a reputation for unreliability and was notorious for discharging all six barrels at once.

  Travis spat a stream of tobacco juice. ‘Whatever it was, that cocksucker’s gonna pay!’

  ‘God almighty! What have you done?’

  The genuine unrestrained horror was so evident in Vicky’s voice that we all turned to face her. Obviously feeling safer with us than lying next to two wagons full of powder, she had followed on at a discreet distance, but was now clearly regretting her decision.

  I moved towards her, intent on offering some comfort. Hardened as I was to bloodshed, I had forgotten what it was like to witness such carnage for the first time.

  Screaming at me to keep away, she drew a single shot, muzzle loading derringer from her purse and vaguely threatened the six of us with it. She was clearly overwrought and acting on impulse, but no less dangerous because of it. Although highly inaccurate due to its lack of barrel length, her weapon was of .40 calibre and at such close range could very easily kill anything that it hit.

  Aware of Shockley moving silently down the flank, I began cautiously inching forward. Pointing the small pistol directly at me, she howled out for me to stay back. All her frenzied attention was on me and that was all the ranger needed. Running flat out, he collided heavily with her, wrenched the derringer from her hand and gave her an open handed slap across the face.

  ‘These work better if you cock them first, you afflicted bitch,’ he commented acidly, as she collapsed to the ground.

  ‘There was no call to hit her,’ cried out young Davey angrily. ‘She was just having a conniption fit.’

  Shockley settled his cold, hard eyes onto the youth and snarled, ‘Nobody points an iron at me. Nobody!’

  Davey wilted under the verbal assault, but still had the guts to reply. ‘But she’s a lady.’

  ‘She’s a whore. Belongs right where she is, on her back!’ With that he turned, and stalked off without a backward glance but he kept the derringer.

  The shock of the blow, rather than any associated pain, appeared to bring Vicky to her senses. Without making any effort to get up she lay there before me, showing a deal more leg than was ladylike.

  ‘Well, don’t just stand there gawking,’ she complained, ‘help me up. Or are you like the animal that just left?’

  ‘I believe you know that I’m not,’ I answered, reaching down for her hand. Accepting it, she held on tightly as I heaved her upright. Feigning loss of balance, she fell forward into my arms and remained there, as though to steady herself. Although highly susceptible to a woman’s charms, I was not a complete buffoon. Smiling down at her I said, ‘You are an exceptionally attractive lady, Miss Fulsome, but you should be aware that I am not a blithering idiot. I can tell when someone is overacting. You should also know that I am romantically attached and not about to jeopardize that.’

  She stepped back slightly, and gave me an appraising look. ‘Then she’s a lucky woman, whoever she might be.’

  Kirby’s loud voice interrupted any further discourse. ‘If you’re through jaw
boning, we got some tough calls to make. Figure you might want to contribute.’

  If I detected a note of sarcasm, I didn’t show it. But his next remark jolted me to the core. Indicating Tobias’s lifeless body he snarled, ‘And think on this. He’s dead because you couldn’t see to business in the shithouse. It happens again, you and I are gonna have a serious disagreement. Savvy?’

  Recovering from my surprise, I came back at him fiercely. ‘And if you had need to kill a ranger in cold blood, could you do it?’

  The two of us were now face to face, eyes locked together, the tension almost palpable between us. I knew that grief and anger played a large part in his verbal attack on me, but years of exercising military authority had left me unable to tolerate such behaviour. Thankfully the irreverent ranger Travis effectively broke the spell.

  ‘You two can stand around here eyeing each other all you want, but someone needs to see to them wagons.’

  Gratefully turning away from his leader, I joined him and the other rangers and we all walked slowly back to the landing place. When asked by Frenchie if they were to place Tobias under the sod, Kirby replied sadly but firmly, ‘We ain’t got the time, so he stays where he lays.’

  Nearing the shoreline, I became aware that we were being watched by dozens of people across the channel at Eagle Grove. The explosion, along with an unusual amount of gunfire, had attracted the attention of the Galveston citizenry. From the shouts and gesticulations, they obviously wanted their ferry back. Kirby ignored them completely, remaining deep in thought until we reached the shack. Motioning for us all to gather round, he began speaking.

  ‘Tobias is dead. There ain’t nothing gonna bring him back, but we can make all this mean something by getting the damn powder back to Béxar. Way I figure it, them two fellas out there won’t try that again, because they don’t know which trail we’re taking. They’ll try to keep us in sight and wait for a chance.’

  ‘What about the islanders, and the dead ferrymen, Kirby?’ This from Frenchie.

  ‘The hell with them fellas! By the time they get a boat over here and find this mess, we’ll be long gone.’

  Suddenly I saw it all so clearly. ‘But we won’t be travelling together all the way, will we?’

  Kirby’s eyes locked onto mine and he smiled. He had obviously pushed our recent difference of opinion to the back of his mind.

  ‘What the hell’s he mean by that?’ Travis looked at the two of us, confusion registering on his face.

  Kirby continued regarding me as he commented, ‘You really ought to join the ranger force, Major. This is in your blood.’ Turning to the others, he continued, ‘What he means is, we’ll be splitting up. Moving slow like this, if a Comanche war party jumps us, we’re finished. If we’re in two groups, taking separate trails, at least one wagon should make it.’

  Grim as ever, Shockley voiced what everyone was thinking. ‘That’s suicide for whoever draws the short straw!’

  Kirby was unyielding in his reply. ‘That’s as maybe, but it doubles our chances of getting some powder back to the captain.’

  Travis spewed black juice before speaking. ‘And I suppose you already worked out who goes where, ain’t you?’

  Nodding gravely, Kirby replied, ‘Yup. Kirkham and Davey with the major, the others with me. If it weren’t for the major, there’d be no powder. It’s his spondulix that paid for it. Kirkham, you got a problem with any of this?’

  Their eyes locked, and they regarded each other for long seconds. Finally the other man took a deep breath, and a faint smile crossed his face as he answered. ‘It’s your call. Jack Hays set you above us with good reason. As for the Redcoat, well, I’ll stand with any man that’ll fight the Comanche.’

  So there we had it. I was to lead one group, and Kirby the other. Looking out across the water I had cause to remark, ‘Then I suggest we all charge our weapons and depart. They seem to have summoned the Navy over there.’ Across at Eagle Grove, a large rowing boat filled with men was beginning to make its slow journey towards us.

  ‘Just you wait a god damn minute,’ came an angry female voice. ‘What about me?’

  Kirby regarded Vicky dispassionately. ‘What about you?’

  A mixture of fear and exasperation showed on her face. ‘You can’t just leave me with all these dead bodies.’

  Kirby, obviously considering the whole conversation a low priority, had begun reloading the discharged chambers of his revolver, but his reply was well reasoned. ‘Not one of them fellas is gonna think you had a hand in this. Just tell them the truth, and go back to Galveston. Flash your titties, and you’ll no doubt get the ride for free! Which is more than I ever do, ha ha ha.’

  The others laughed along with him, but something troubled me. There was an air of desperation about Vicky, which was confirmed by her next comment. ‘I need to go to San Antonio. Take me with you, please.’

  Travis had had enough. ‘Lady, there’s going to be more dying on this trip. You don’t want to be anywhere near us.’

  ‘What is so important about getting to San Antonio?’ Pressingly aware that we needed to be off, I was nonetheless curious.

  ‘I need to find my cousin. I’ve been told by some freighters that she lives there now.’

  Feeling strangely light headed, I asked, ‘What’s this lady’s name?’

  ‘Sarah Fetterman,’ came the reply.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  ‘Get on!’

  ‘Say what?’

  ‘Get on the blasted wagon, unless you want to answer to them,’ I shouted, indicating the approaching boat. ‘If we’re here when they arrive, there’ll be hell to pay.’

  So saying, I grabbed her coat and bundled her up onto the bench seat. Taking hold of her carpet bag I, none too gently, hurled that up after her, before climbing on myself. Shockley gave me a piercing look but remained silent. With much creaking and vibration, we slowly pulled away from Virginia Point, to the accompaniment of howls of protest, and poorly aimed gunfire from the occupants of the rowing boat.

  Some hours travelling found us well clear of the coast. We had not yet gone our separate ways, as there was little likelihood of us encountering any savages this early in the journey. What was becoming apparent, was that this return trek would be far lengthier, and more arduous, than our journey out to Galveston. Both wagons were heavily laden, and great care had to be taken to avoid potholes.

  Shockley was out of sight, ranging far and wide, but his overly harsh treatment of Vicky stayed in my mind. I determined that there would have to be a reckoning of sorts, which in itself was disturbing. It suggested that I had developed a protective attraction to her and such situations rarely remained platonic. That lady seemed content to sit silently next to me, as the wagon bumped and jolted its way northwest. Under other circumstances I would have welcomed my close proximity to such a comely wench, but the state of affairs had drastically altered. Touching her arm, I tackled the subject that had so surprised me. ‘If you are Sarah’s cousin why has she never made mention of you?’

  Vicky turned and spoke softly, so that I had to strain to hear over the noise of our progress. ‘Why should she? She ain’t seen hide nor hair of me in years. I didn’t want a life of toil on a farm. I wanted pretty dresses and a soft bed.’

  Watching her carefully I said, ‘But it wasn’t that easy, was it?’

  ‘No. No it weren’t. I got the dresses and the bed, but every man I met wanted me out of them and into it.’ Putting her hand on my arm, she smiled. ‘And they weren’t all like you. Many were ugly, smelly, stunted oafs from Morgan’s schooners, who thought spondulix got them anything!’

  ‘You know nothing about me,’ I replied quickly.

  ‘I know what I see, and hear. They’re enough for a woman who knows what to look for.’ As she said this she pressed closer to me on the seat. Under different circumstances I would have revelled in the intimacy, but she was Sarah’s cousin, for God’s sake!

  This has to stop, I thought reluctantly. Shifting
uncomfortably I asked, ‘How did you know of our destination, and why go there now?’

  ‘Some of your ranger friends supped too much joy juice. What they said got me to thinking that maybe I could hitch a ride. Sarah’s steady and sensible. Might be she’ll help me settle down.’ Arching her eyebrows she added, ‘And I’ll get to see more of you too!’

  I just didn’t like what I was hearing. Vicky Fulsome appeared to be an opportunist, albeit a highly delectable one. The thought of taking on two women at once, although superficially appealing on a physical level, augured terrible trouble. Especially when they were related. So it was with genuine relief that I saw Kirkham Shockley return to the wagons, his appearance serving to divert our attention. The light was draining out of the sky and the taciturn ranger brought news of a suitable campsite up ahead. It was on higher ground, and clear of vegetation, making it easier to defend.

  Kirby ordered a cold camp. It was unlikely that Comanches would be so close to the coast, but somewhere out there Captain Speirs and his sergeant were lurking, biding their time. As we sat near the wagons chewing beef jerky and dry biscuits, I remarked pointedly, ‘I say, Kirkham, whilst we are all here together, I would be grateful if you would return Miss Fulsome’s property.’

  His head snapped up. ‘Say what?’

  Young Davey froze in the midst of chewing, so that his face resembled that of a man afflicted with lockjaw. The hitherto quiet camp fell totally silent as everybody awaited the turn of events.

  ‘You retained her derringer,’ I persisted. ‘It is likely that we will encounter Comanches on our journey, so she’ll need it for protection.’

  ‘That bitch aimed to pop a cap on me. I ain’t giving her any second chances!’