“No comprender,” said Ramon. He must convince the officer they were but poor vaqueros, following the orders of their patrono.
Farias repeated the order in Spanish, and Ramon answered in Spanish, speaking slowly. Once Ramon had told his prepared story, he said no more. Major Farias stroked one end of his curled moustache, pondering. When he spoke, he confirmed Van’s fears and suspicions.
“I have heard of the Mendoza horses. I, myself, am poorly mounted, and so are my men. You have horses for the milicia, no? Por Dios, we are the milicia, and we shall have some of these Mendoza horses before they are taken by others.”
Ramon, still speaking in his slow peon Spanish, explained that the caballos must be delivered to the commander of the milicia at Matamoros, Tamaulipas. It was by order of the patrono.
“Such loyalty is to be commended,” said Farias. “We shall escort you to Matamoros, and there take our pick of these fine horses you are taking to the milicia.”
There it was! Van sighed in the darkness. Farias gave the order to dismount, and they were surrounded by Mexican soldiers. Within minutes there was a roaring fire. Ramon gritted his teeth as the soldiers began helping themselves from the trail drive’s packs. There were shouts as they discovered the deer Bola had brought in. Van jumped when someone touched his shoulder.
“Big trouble,” said Gil from the darkness. “Where’s Rosa? The way she feels about soldiers, God knows what she’s likely to say or do.”
“I don’t know,” said Van. “Between wondering where you were and how we’re gonna get out of this, I haven’t even thought of her. But what can she say or do to make things worse than they are already?”
He soon found out. There was a screech from Rosa, and in the outburst that followed, the mildest term she had for the soldiers was “murdering dogs.” One of the soldiers flung Rosa to the ground before the fire. They’d ripped off her too-big vaquero pants, their intentions obvious. Gil and Van were fighting their way through the soldiers, trying to reach her, but Rosa took things into her own hands. Seizing the cool end of a flaming ember from the fire, she drove the flaming end of it into the groin of the soldier who had attacked her. The man screamed, and one of his comrades knocked Rosa to the ground. Ramon’s fist smashed him on the chin and he dropped like an axed steer. Half a dozen of them piled on Ramon as Gil and Van moved in, bashing heads with the heavy barrels of their Colts. But their cause was lost. But for the four riders watching the herd, the entire outfit went down under odds of five-to-one. Quickly they were beaten into submission, but the worst was yet to come. Gil and Van no longer wore shirts, but tattered rags that did nothing to conceal their white skin. Major Farias hadn’t taken part in the fray, nor had he attempted to stop it. Now he stood looking down at the bruised and bloody Texans. He then turned to an equally bruised and bloody Ramon.
“Ah,” said Farias, with an evil laugh, “I can see that you are truly surprised to find that two of your riders are fugitive gringos with prices on their heads.”
Ramon said nothing.
“Since you have deceived me in this one important matter,” Farias continued, “I find myself doubting what you have told me. There is but one thing of which I am sure. I have in my hands two gringos whose heads are each worth a thousand pesos. You say that you are taking horses and cows to Matamoros, Tamaulipas for use by the militia. Very well, I shall permit you to do so, and to be sure that you do, I will leave enough soldiers so that you do not change your mind.”
He gave an order in Spanish, and one of the soldiers brought Rosa to him. She had been securely wrapped in a blanket, only her head visible. Again Farias turned to Ramon.
“Yours?” he asked, pointing to Rosa. Ramon shook his head.
“Ah,” said Farias, “you have told me what I wish to know, although the truth is not in you. When I depart for Matamoros, Tamaulipas with the gringos, I will also take with me your child. When you have delivered the horses and cows to the militia, General Paradez will decide what is to become of you. If he is merciful and does not have you executed, perhaps this young felino will be returned to you…”
He gave an order, and the soldiers stripped every rider of his pistol. Gil and Van were hustled to their feet and their hands were bound behind them. Again Farias spoke to Ramon.
“Go to the riders who are watching the horses and cows. Take riders to replace them, and bring these armed riders to me. They will surrender their weapons, if they are to live. See that they do not resist.”
When Ramon rode out, four of the soldiers mounted and followed. Farias gave another order, and the soldiers began taking rifles from the vaqueros’ saddle boots. Their backs against opposite sides of an oak, Gil and Van were roped securely to the tree. They had no idea what Farias had done with Rosa. Strong on their minds was the thought that the Mexican officer had done nothing when his soldiers had assaulted the girl. Once Ramon returned with the riders who had been left with the herd, the soldiers seemed to lose interest in him. Ramon came to the tree where Gil and Van were tied.
“Ramon,” said Gil, “Talk to Rosa if you can. Tell her to do and say nothing, that she’s going with Van and me. Remember, once we reach Matamoros, Tamaulipas, we’re less than thirty miles from the border. This General Paradez must be the man who’s replacing Santa Anna, and I expect we’ll be held there at Matamoros, Tamaulipas until he arrives. Pretend you’re beaten, but look for a chance to get your guns and break loose from these soldiers. With any luck, Farias won’t leave many, and that’ll lessen the odds. If there’s any way, Van and I will find some means of escape and join you before you reach Matamoros, Tamaulipas. Vaya con Dios, pardner.”
“We fight,” said Ramon.
Both men had spoken with a confidence they didn’t feel. From somewhere in the darkness came the eerie, quavering cry of a screech owl. Ozark legend said that the screech owl was a harbinger of death, that soon after its warning, someone would die. Gil and Van had heard Granny Austin speak of it as though it were fact, and as they listened to the laughter of the soldiers, it seemed less a superstition and more a reality.
Gil and Van spent a miserable night bound to the tree. Their bonds were removed at dawn so they could eat. Farias designated fourteen soldiers to remain with the trail drive, to escort it to Matamoros, Tamaulipas. Major Farias and the rest of the soldiers would depart immediately, taking Gil, Van, and Rosa with them.
“That Mex varmint can’t wait to get us to Matamoros, Tamaulipas,” said Van. “He’s bucking for more rank, and he aims to buy it with our blood.”
“We’re not dead yet,” said Gil. “We escaped once; let’s set our minds to doing it a second time. Like I told Ramon, Matamoros is maybe thirty miles south of the border. This may not be the best way, but it’s one way of gettin’ our herds close enough to drive them into Texas. All we have to do is break loose, stay alive, and take over the trail drive when it reaches Matamoros.”
“This Farias is a trashy bastard,” said Van. “He really believes Rosa is Ramon’s kid, so he’s taking her to keep a noose around Ramon’s neck until the trail drive reaches Matamoros, Tamaulipas.”
“It’ll be hard on Rosa,” said Gil, but she’ll be safer as a hostage. She had nothing to fear from our outfit, but left here in a camp with soldiers in control, that could change. That ruckus last night wasn’t Rosa’s fault. One of them was about to take advantage of her, and she reacted the only way she knew how. She’s young, but she’s had a hard life, and she’s not dumb. She knew we were outnumbered, and I just don’t believe she would have blown up like that if she hadn’t been forced to.”
Farias gave an order, and the men who would ride with him to Matamoros began saddling their horses. Ramon and Juan Padillo had saddled horses for Gil and Van, while one of the soldiers saddled a mount for Rosa. Their hands bound behind their backs, Gil and Van had to be helped into their saddles. Once there, their ankles were bound together by a rope passed under the horses’ belly. Finally, they each had a rope looped about their necks, wit
h the other end dallied around a soldier’s saddle horn. While Rosa wasn’t bound, her horse was on a lead rope, the other end secured to a soldier’s saddle horn. She again wore the old trousers Ramon had cut down to fit her, and when they lifted her into the saddle, she wept so long and loud, Farias shouted her to silence. Farias led the way. Behind him rode Gil, Van, and Rosa, followed by the three soldiers who held lead ropes. The remainder of the soldiers Farias elected to ride with him followed. As Farias and his soldiers took them away, Rosa buried her face on her horse’s neck and wept. Ramon, Juan Padillo, Estanzio, Mariposa, and the rest of the outfit looked on in silence. They couldn’t speak, but Gil’s heart leaped when he saw their eyes. There was anger, reassurance, and a grim determination that said there would come a day of reckoning. This wasn’t over!
While Gil and Van were bound securely during the day, their bonds were removed at night. While it was a relief, and made sleep possible, there was no possibility of escape. They were watched constantly by two armed guards, and the sentries were changed three times during the night. When the guards became bored, they talked freely in Spanish, and it was through them that Gil and Van learned they would not go immediately to Matamoros, Tamaulipas, but would stop in Monterrey for one night.
“Farias aims to show us off,” said Gil. “He wants to crow some, show the rest of this Mex army what a big man he is.”
It was exactly what Farias had in mind. Once they reached Monterrey, they were led through the village, then turned around and led back. The soldiers already in Monterrey seemed to be walking wounded. Most of them wore bandages on arms or legs, or limped when they walked. As it turned out, the outpost at Monterrey had a small stockade for prisoners. It was crude; heavy logs had been set deep in the ground, their sharpened upper ends well above a man’s head. There was just one way in or out, and that was through a massive log gate in the stockade wall. Before the gate stood a soldier with a rifle. Gil and Van were pushed inside, and the gate closed behind them. The shelter inside was no more than three log walls with a shake roof. The entire front was open, like a chicken coop. The floor was dirt, and the only accommodation was a bench along the back wall. One man sat on it, hunched down as though asleep. His left leg was bandaged from knee to ankle. His Texas boots stood on the ground and his hat lay on the bench beside him. He sat up, stretching his arms and legs, yawning like a sleepy cat. Van was the first to recover from his surprise.
“Long John Coons, what’n hell are you doing here?”
“Jus’ come fer a visit,” drawled Long John, “an’ liked it so much, I stayed.”
“We left you to watch our Bandera range,” said Gil. “With you here, who’s doing that?”
“Ain’t got no idee,” said Long John, “onless it’s some of them that lives there, which I doubt. The most on-neighborly sonsabitches that ever come down a wagon road. When ye git back—if ye do—I expect that bunch of lobos will be whinin’ their heads off.”
“So you got the neighbors on the prod,” said Van, “and they told you to vamoose.”
“Like hell!” said Long John hotly. “I go when I’m ready, an’ I was ready. We laid up at yer diggings till the grub run out, and fer a spell a’ter that. Fin’ly we kilt what we reckoned was one of yer cows, an’ some slanch-eyed old bastard says we’s rustlers. Says that cow’s his, an’ somebody’s goin’ t’ pay. So I reckon ye’ll be hearin’ from him. We din’t want t’ cause ye no trouble, so we moved out an’ moved on.”
“We left three of you at the ranch,” said Gil. “Where are your friends?”
“Dead,” said Long John. “I was comin’ t’ that. Some gents rode in that I knowed back in Shreveport. They was on their way south, aimin’ t’ loot some Mex tows acrost th’ border. Since we was plumb outta grub, and yer neighbors was so damn onfriendly, we throwed in with ’em. Me, Shorty, an’ Banjo. It was thirteen of us, an’ I reckon that number was some onlucky. First town we hit, they purely set our tail feathers afire. They burnt down four of us right off. The rest of us lit out fer the Texas side o’ the river, an’ run plumb into a passel o’ Mex soldiers. Ever’body got shot t’ doll rags, ’cept me, an’ here I am.”
“How long have you been here?” Van asked.
“Nine days,” said Long John. “I talk some Mex, an’ understand some. I been hearin’ ’em talk about takin’ me t’ Matamoros, Tamaulipas. I reckon it’s a right smart of a ride, an’ they been waitin’ fer some more poor bastards they could send along wi’ me. Look like they got some, don’t it?”
“Matamoros, Tamaulipas is just the start of the trail to Mexico City,” said Gil. “If you get there alive, there’s a military prison waiting.”
“Then we’re dead pelicans, either way,” said Long John. “Jus’ takes a mite longer in the juzgado.”
“Matamoros, Tamaulipas is less than thirty miles from the border,” said Van. “We’ve got a herd of horses and a herd of longhorn cows on the way there.”
“By God,” said Long John admiringly, “ye young Texas roosters is purely got sand in yer craws! I’d gut-shoot a man that said different. They ain’t been a meaner stacked deck since the Alamo, but jus’ gimme a chancet, and I’ll buy chips in whatever long-shot game ye got in mind.”
August 26, 1843. On the trail north.
Difficult as it was, Ramon went about pulling the outfit together. He got no help from the soldiers. They were there to be sure the trail drive continued to Matamoros, Tamaulipas. Ramon knew that prisoners taken there were then taken south, along the coast, to Mexico City. Since he no longer had to worry about the military post at Monterrey, Ramon slowly but surely turned the drive to the east. It would be a longer drive, and eventually they would reach Matamoros. But Ramon expected Gil and Van to be taken south, and if the trail drive approached Matamoros from the south, there must be a meeting. Ramon had spoken to the riders, and they had rallied around him. Estanzio and Mariposa still had their concealed Bowies, cautioned by Ramon to wait until the right moment. When the time came, the soldado sentries could be quickly eliminated. But Ramon remembered what Gil Austin had said. Matamoros was near the border. As long as the soldados rode with the trail drive, Ramon need not fear the army. He would use the soldados to get the herds as near the border as he could. From there they might have to fight their way across, but por Dios, they had a chance!
Clay, Angelina, and Solano continued to hide by day and travel at night. When Clay had examined the big black horse in daylight, he was delighted. It bore a Winged M on its left flank. Even in the dark Solano knew his horses. Clay had begun to lose his prison pallor, and without the shaggy hair and long beard, he would have been difficult to identify as a former resident of Mexico City’s dungeon. Angelina had found him quiet, and there were times when she spoke to him that he seemed not to hear. Finally she had left him alone. He would have to come to her. They circled far around Tampico, passing to the west of it. Before first light, Solano found them a secluded coulee where they could spend the daylight hours. Solano devoted his day to sleeping. Or appearing to. Only once since his escape had Clay spoken of Gil and Van Austin. Angelina had told him of their arrival, of their plans for the trail drive, which was all she knew. Clay had said so little to her, it startled her when he spoke.
“Why did you come lookin’ for me, taking the chances you took?”
“I do not know,” she said. “Perhaps I thought you were worth saving. I saw Victoria throw herself at you, try to use you, and saw you refuse. I believed then—as I do now—that if a woman were worthy, if you wanted her for herself alone, all the devils in Hell couldn’t stop you from having her.”
“That’s exactly how it is,” he said. “A man don’t like bein’ crowded.”
“Have I ever crowded you?”
“No, ma’am,” he said, a twinkle in his eyes. “Solano’s a man to ride the river with, but he couldn’t have busted me out of that Mex jail without you. That took courage, girl, and more. I got a serious question to ask you, if we get back to Texas alive.�
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“I’ll have a serious answer for you,” she said, “and we will get to Texas alive.”
He took both her hands in his and their eyes met in silent understanding.
19
August 28, 1843. On the trail to Matamoros, Tamaulipas.
Sergeant Aguilla had been left in charge of the soldiers who had stayed with the trail drive. Besides Aguilla, only four of the soldiers were veterans. The rest were conscripts who were friendly to Ramon and his vaqueros when Aguilla wasn’t hounding them. However remote, Ramon saw the friendliness of these soldiers as a chance to further reduce the odds against the outfit. He did not wish to reach Matamoros too soon. It was the Mexican stronghold for the border war, a rallying point for soldiers arriving from or departing to Mexico City. Besides, there might be soldiers at Matamoros on their way to or from Monterrey or Meoqui, as well. Too many soldiers! Ramon believed that if Gil and Van were awaiting an opportunity to escape, it wouldn’t come until they had been taken from Matamoros, and were en route to Mexico City. Ramon reasoned that if he gradually turned the trail drive eastward, approaching Matamoros from the south, they might meet the soldiers taking Gil and Van to Mexico City. Of course, there was a disturbing factor that might make all Ramon’s planning meaningless: General Paradez might just have the Texans executed at Matamoros. But Ramon didn’t think so. Like Santa Anna, Paradez would want to flaunt his captives, to impress his superiors in Mexico City. Ramon tried to think of a means of slowing the trail drive. The Austins must have time to reach Matamoros, to be taken from the soldier stronghold, while he and the outfit awaited them to the south. Ironically, Sergeant Aguilla himself caused the needed delay. Their third day on the trail with Aguilla in charge, Ramon approached the sergeant.
“Senor, we must send a rider ahead of the drive to scout for water. The caballos and vacas must have water each day.”
The Bandera Trail Page 24