“You have my word,” said Van, “and this is no longer your fight. I had to shoot Manuel Torres, and it’s me that his vindictive brother wants. But my outfit rode out to help me and Dorinda, and the Torres gang was forced to run. In Miguel Torres’s twisted mind, he just wants somebody to pay, and Dorinda’s the only one he can get to. Now, what do you know of this rider, the man who comes here at night?”
“Twice,” said Jabez, “I found the tracks of his horse behind the barn, and the third time a fresh boot print beneath Dorinda’s window.”
“He’s likely watching the house,” said Van, “and by now he’d know Dorinda’s here. Trouble is, he knows I’m here too. That means I’ll have to ride out while it’s light enough for him to see me go. When it’s good dark, I’ll circle back, picket my horse well away from here, and watch for him from the barn loft.”
“Dorinda and Matilda will have to know, then.”
“Yes,” said Van, “and we might as well go tell them.”
There were new tears from Matilda, and an alternate solution from Dorinda. She took Van’s hands in her own, and he saw the fear in her eyes.
“Stay the night,” she said, “and ride out in the morning.”
“He’d just follow me,” Van said. “Revenge killers are a little crazy, and I’d just be taking the problem with me. I’d have a crazy bushwhacker camped on Bandera range. Let him come to me, and let it end here.”
They had supper early, so Van could ride out well before dark. Matilda and Dorinda set a table such as Van hadn’t seen since leaving Missouri. There was ham, fried chicken, and every vegetable Texas soil was capable of producing. It was all topped off with apple pie and fresh layer cake.
“Dorinda,” said Van, a twinkle in his eye, “is all this your mama’s doing, or can you do as well on your own?”
“All Mama’s doing,” said Dorinda, with a smile. “I only made the coffee. For the rest, you’ll just have to wait and see.”
While there was still an hour of daylight, Van rode out, leading the packhorse, heading north. Soon as it was dark, he rode east and doubled back, approaching the Jabez farm from a different direction. Once he was within a mile of the place, he tied the horses to a cottonwood with a slipknot. Taking his lariat, he walked the rest of the way. He approached the barn from the rear, keeping its bulk between him and the house. There were slats up the outside of a stall, and he climbed swiftly to the loft. Finding a strong roof beam, he tied one end of the lariat to it. From there he could grab the rope and be on the ground in seconds. With both ends of the barn loft open, he could see the house from one end, and to the south—toward the border—from the other.
The moon rose, and still Van waited. He doubted Torres would approach until after moonset, and it wasn’t far off when he heard the chink of a horse’s shod hoof against stone. Someone was coming! Van held his breath until he saw the dark bulk of horse and rider. He waited for the man to dismount and for his silent shadow to disappear around the corner of the barn. Quietly Van moved to the front of the loft and watched the man approach the house. Whatever Torres had in mind, he wouldn’t have time to attempt it. Van slid down the rope and checked his pistol. Then he loosed the reins of the horse and slapped it on the flank. Startled, the horse ran nickering away. Van moved to the corner of the barn and waited until he heard running footsteps. It was time. He stepped past the corner of the barn.
“Torres!”
Torres drew and fired, but he’d been caught offstride, and the slug sang over Van’s head. Van drew and fired twice; once at the muzzle flash, and again to the right of it. Torres fired again by reflex, but the muzzle of the gun had sagged, and the lead tore into the ground at his feet. His shadowy form tumbled backward, fell to the ground, and didn’t move again.
“Van!” Dorinda cried from the porch. “Van!”
“Here,” said Van.
Avoiding the huddled shadow on the ground, Dorinda ran to him. Eben Jabez followed with a lantern. Van pulled away from Dorinda to look at the fallen man.
“He looks some like Manuel Torres,” said Van, “but I can’t be sure. Dorinda, can you stand lookin’ at him long enough to tell us for sure?”
She took a quick look, then turned away.
“Yes,” she said, “that’s him. That’s the other one.”
Van gratefully accepted the bed they offered him, and then lay there for an hour, wide-awake. He got up, minus only his boots, and crept back to the parlor. Dorinda was already there, and he sat down beside her.
“I couldn’t sleep either,” she said.
“Let’s talk, then,” said Van. “I already asked your daddy if I can come callin’ on you, and he welcomed me. Will you?”
“You know I will. Come on Saturday and stay the night.”
“It’ll be maybe two weeks before Clay and Angelina stand before the preacher,” Van said. “Do you reckon your mama and daddy would like to go? It’ll give ’em a chance to meet Gil, Clay, and the rest of the outfit.”
“Yes,” she said, “I think they’d like that, especially if the invitation comes from you. Ask them in the morning.”
When Van returned to the ranch, he had arranged for the sale of three hundred longhorns, and the packhorse couldn’t have carried one more thing. Behind his saddle was a bulging sack that contained a ham, onions, potatoes, turnips, and a variety of other vegetables. Gil and Clay ragged him some about Dorinda, and Angelina was pleased that the girl and her parents would be attending the wedding. Angelina took it upon herself to begin preparing Rosa for the occasion. Rosa got her first hair cut, her first bath with soap, her first dress, and her first spanking.
“I reckon,” said Gil, “with this knot-tyin’ ahead of us, we’d better split up the work. Clay, you’ll need a house, and the rest of the outfit will need a bunkhouse.”
“Angelina and me can take the house that’s already here,” Clay said, “and the rest of you can sleep in the bunkhouse.”
“I sleep in bunkhouse,” said Rosa.
“You’ll have a room in the house with Van and me,” Gil said. “Clay, pick three men to help you cut logs and get your house started. Everybody else will continue branding cattle. When that’s done we’ll start on the bunkhouse.”
October 15, 1843. San Antonio, Republic of Texas.
Somewhere, somehow, Clay Duval found a Baptist preacher. Everybody from the Bandera ranch was there except Solano, Mariposa, and Estanzio. They had refused to come, but Solano had made Rosa a new pair of deerskin moccasins for the occasion. Rosa had accepted the bright new pink dress, but had stubbornly resisted the underlying, restrictive pantaloons that went with it. As a result she wore only the dress, being stark naked beneath it. With a sigh, Angelina had agreed, but only when Rosa had promised not to sit down. Later, Angelina would tell her why.
Van had found and borrowed a fancy surrey, using it to drive Dorinda and her parents to San Antonio. Big Foot Wallace and his Rangers were on hand, as was Ranger captain Ben McCulloch and his men.
“I reckon you finished the Torres gang,” said Wallace, when Van told him of his encounter with the infamous brothers.
“By the Eternal,” said Captain McCulloch, as he congratulated Clay, “I never expected this young hellion to live long enough to marry.”
Never had there been such an event. It took place in Overmeyer’s wagon yard, for nowhere else was there room enough. The three hundred longhorns had been bought by a stock dealer and were all safely in his cattle pens. But during the ceremony, pranksters let down the rails, and all three hundred longhorns stampeded through the town. Horning their way into a bath house, they drove the patrons out stark naked, most of the men wearing only their hats. Not until the Republic was finally granted statehood would there be an occasion so widely remembered, so well attended, or so grand a reason for men to get roaring drunk.
February 19, 1846. Austin, the Republic of Texas.
Almost ten years to the day since Stephen Austin had died, Gil and Van were on hand for the tran
sition, as the Republic of Texas surrendered the reins of government to the new state’s first governor, J. Pinckney Henderson. The retiring president of the Republic, Anson Jones, loosed the lines on the flagstaff, and the Lone Star flag of the Republic of Texas was lowered for the last time. As the flag descended, Sam Houston stepped forward and took it. The Republic of Texas was no more.
“Thank God,” said Angelina to Clay. “Perhaps this foolish conflict with Mexico can now be resolved.”
“It will be,” said Clay. “Now President Polk can send enough soldiers to give Santa Anna the beating he’s been needin’ for so long.”
“Soldiers will need horses,” said Gil, “and why shouldn’t the government buy them from us?”
Dorinda kept a tight rein on Rosa, whose low opinion of “soldados” had not changed. She kept trying to get closer to a company of Union bluecoats who were there for show.
“I’m all for selling horses to our new government,” said Van, “but why don’t we sell ’em some cattle too? If we don’t move some of those longhorn brutes, another two or three years of natural increase and our range will be overgrazed.”
While their Winged M brand flourished and Indian-gentled Mendoza horses went at a premium, longhorn cattle sales languished. There was no means of transportation to northern and eastern markets, and getting the herd there cost more than its eventual sale brought. The Austins even tried selling breeding stock, but to no avail. Why breed critters nobody wanted? Other Texans raised horses, hogs, fruits, and vegetables. But Gil and Van Austin were stubborn men.
“Someday, somewhere,” said Gil, “there’ll be a market for Texas beef, and our AA brand will be ready for the long trail.”
History would prove him right. In 1849 gold would be discovered in California, and the miners would need beef. In the spring of 1850 Gil and Van Austin would move out a herd of Texas longhorns bound for the gold fields. Theirs would be the perilous route the Butterfield stages would follow almost a dozen years later—from the Bandera range to the Pecos River at Horsehead crossing, across southern New Mexico and Arizona territories, to southern California. Eighteen hundred miles of treacherous rivers, hostile Indians, border outlaws, desert, and rattlesnakes.
It was a stretch right out of Hell, which few men lived to talk about.
Those who did—Texans tough as whang leather, slow to run, and quick on the draw—called it the California Trail….
EPILOGUE
For all Stephen Austin’s efforts on behalf of the American colony, he died disillusioned and broke. He had been authorized by the Mexican government to collect 12½ cents an acre to cover the cost of surveying and other expenses. While he had been awarded thousands of acres for his own use, he had no time to work the land, and was not permitted to sell it. The colonists accused him of “gouging,” since he also had land, and refused to pay the small fee to which Austin was entitled. Many of those seeking land had registered as “ranchers,” but farmed, raising corn and cotton. For many years, as a result, there would be a cattle shortage in the Republic. In 1836, still a young man, Stephen Austin died. Several times the capital was moved, and not until 1850, by statewide vote, did the State of Texas choose Austin as its permanent capital. Only after his death was Stephen Austin granted a place in history as the father of Texas.
Santa Anna became military dictator of Mexico three different times between 1833 and 1855, no small accomplishment, since he appears to have been one of the most hated and extravagant men in Mexican history.
The Texas Rangers led the U.S. Army into Mexico during the Mexican War. So fierce and elusive were these Texans, the Mexicans referred to them as los Tejanos Diablos—the Texas Devils. The effectiveness of the Rangers in Mexico with Colt revolvers resulted in the Walker Colt being adopted as the sidearm for the U.S. Army cavalrymen. The war with Mexico was short and bitter, and the Texas Rangers played a dual role. They operated as cavalry and as long-range recon men for the U.S. Army. They penetrated Mexican defenses with a stealth and skill that army brass could scarcely believe. A Tennessean, Ranger captain Ben McCulloch, led forty Texas Rangers through Mexican lines, seeking a route from Matamoros west to Monterrey for the invading U.S. Army. In ten days McCulloch and his men covered more than 250 miles, raiding villages as they went. Not once were they challenged—or even sighted—by Mexican soldiers.
This is a work of fiction, based on actual trail drives of the Old West. Many of the characters appearing in the Trail Drive Series were very real, and some of the trail drives actually took place. But the reader should be aware that, in the developing of characters and events, some fictional literary license has been employed. While some of the characters and events herein are purely the creation of the author, every effort has been made to portray them with accuracy. However, the inherent dangers of the trail are real, sufficient unto themselves, and seldom has it been necessary to enhance their reality.
THE BANDERA TRAIL
Copyright © 1993 by Ralph Compton.
Map on p. ix by David Lindroth, based upon material supplied by the author.
All rights reserved.
For information address St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, NY 10010.
ISBN: 978-0-312-95143-6
* Moving into Mexico, Somervell’s forces captured Laredo on December 18, 1842, and then went on to take Guerrero.
* When William Fisher’s Texas command inspected the village of Mier, it was undefended. Fisher decided to take Mier, and on December 25, 1842, led 261 Texans across the Rio Grande. But Mexican forces had gathered under General Pedro Ampudia, and the Texans found themselves outnumbered more than ten to one. Thirty Texans were killed or wounded. Six hundred Mexican soldiers were killed, and two hundred were wounded.
* The first church was founded in San Luis Potosi in 1583.
* Soldiers
* The Continental Divide
* Of the 176 Texans who escaped near Salada hacienda (south of Matamoros, Tamaulipas) all but seventeen were captured within a few days. Furious, Santa Anna ordered one man executed for each of the seventeen who remained free. Prisoners were forced to draw lots from a jar. There were 176 beans; 159 were white, and seventeen were black, for death. The 159 Texans who drew white beans were forced to watch the merciless execution. Their seventeen doomed comrades were herded into a compound, tied together, and shot in the back by Mexican soldiers.
* Conestoga horses were bred especially to pull the Conestoga wagon. The breed, now extinct, has been traced back to Flemish stallions that carried knights in full armor. William Penn is said to have sent the first stallions to Pennsylvania to be bred to Virginia mares. The big horses weighed 1800 pounds or more, averaging sixteen hands high. A Conestoga wagon required three teams. The front team was the lead team, the middle one was the swing team, and the rear one the wheel team. A Conestoga wagon weighed 4000 pounds.
* The maguey is also known as the aloe or century plant.
* Crocodile
* Stupid woman
* Peace
* Knifemen
* In 1842, a company of forty Texas Rangers, commanded by Captain John Coffee (Jack) Hays, was ambushed in Bandera Pass by more than a hundred Comanches. Most of the fighting was hand-to-hand, with Bowie knives. The Comanche chief was killed. Five Rangers died and six were wounded.
* The first skirmish of the war with Mexico occurred on April 24, 1846. During the course of the war, Mexican soldiers captured Monterey and San Francisco, California. Peace finally came with the signing of the Treaty of Guadalupe, Hidalgo, February 2, 1848.
* Texas was admitted to the Union on December 29, 1845.
* Trail Drive Series #5. The California Trail.
* General Paradez was a good soldier, but a heavy drinker, and by no means the political equal of Santa Anna. In 1846 Santa Anna’s liberal friends forced Paradez out of office, reinstating Santa Anna as president as well as commander-in-chief of Mexico’s armies.
* A. A. (Big Foot) Wallace participated in the fi
ght at Bandera Pass in 1842. He, along with Ben McCulloch, P. H. Bell, and Creed Taylor were all Rangers who survived the ambush, and went on to become well-known in Texas history.
* Northern senators opposed Texas becoming part of the Union, lest it enter as a “slave” state. Politicians saw it as a ploy by the South to gain seats in the Senate. In despair, fearing invasion by Mexico, Texas turned to England, which offered to make the Republic of Texas a British protectorate. President James K. Polk, aghast at such a possibility, drove Congress to immediately annex Texas, or risk enforcing the Monroe Doctrine against England.
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