“They just as soon go home, sir. And me with ’em,” Shackelford said, his accent educated. “But my son, Fortunatus. He’s married. Laid down roots. Appreciate if he could stay.”
The son, a second lieutenant, had not strayed from his father, standing nearby among the captured officers. He was a tall good-looking lad. I walked over.
“Will you take the oath?” I asked. “Will you swear allegiance to the Buffalo Flag?”
“Yes, sir. I’ll take the oath,” Fortunatus replied.
“Say it loud, boy,” I insisted.
“I’ll take the oath, sir!” the boy shouted.
“Dr. Shackelford, your Rovers may go home. And your son may stay,” I said. “And as for you, Mr. Horton. What are we to do with you?”
Horton could not have known it, but I knew he had lived a distinguished life, having visited with his family during my trip to Texas in 1865. The year the old man died.
“Rather not give up on Texas,” Horton replied.
“Are you ready to give up on slavery?” I demanded.
“Rather not die for it,” he said, shrugging his thin shoulders.
“Crockett?” I asked.
“Reckon we kin give ’em a chance,” Crockett said.
“Reckon we’ll give you a chance then, Mr. Horton,” I agreed.
“Thank you, sir,” Horton said, offering to shake hands.
It was the first opponent’s hand I’d shaken all morning.
We adjourned for supper. I heard General Castrillón had arrived from Galveston and wanted to consult with him. When Tom took his allies aside for a talk, I waved Crockett and my sergeants over.
“Still think leniency is the best course, David?”
“Rightly do. Fightin’ is over, time to make the peace,” Crockett replied.
“Put on your coonskin cap,” I said. “Butler, Hughes, French, Voss, take your best men. Circulate among the prisoners. Let them know those who want a life in Texas or California can still petition the new government. Have them address their petitions to me.”
“You?” Crockett said.
“I am the Lieutenant General of the Army, and they are prisoners of war,” I explained. “Every name I approve will be forwarded to you for the final decision.”
“Do I got a choice?” Crockett asked.
“We can ask Butler and Hughes what they think. Boys?” I asked.
“Hang ’em all sir. Every last son of a bitch,” Butler said.
“Hangin’ is cheaper than shootin’, sir,” Hughes remarked.
“David?” I inquired.
“Ya made yer point, George. We’ll git goin’ on them petitions,” Crockett said.
“Cooke,” I summoned, drawing him away from Tom’s group.
“Yes, George,” he reported, wondering what the twinkle in my eye meant.
“We need more tables. Lot’s more. And flags. Find every pole you can and put a flag on it,” I ordered. “The fate of Texas is about to be decided. We should make it a grand event. Where is the band?”
“I understand,” Cooke said, and I know he did. He rushed off to organize the event as only Bill Cooke could.
General Castrillón and I met briefly near the dock for cigars. He had already heard of Santa Anna’s fate, and we raised a glass to Antonio’s memory, planning a formal ceremony before his body was taken back to Mexico. I also asked Castrillón to stay as my personal advisor. He was reluctant to live north of the Rio Grande, but agreed to think it over.
The meeting reconvened under a light cloud cover, protecting us from the late August sun. Crockett had the head chair, with Tom and I at his elbows facing off across from each other. Otherwise the seating was the same, though Castrillón now sat next to Señor Seguin.
“We have letters from Béjar to San Francisco. Newspapers, too,” Cooke announced, showing half of dozen of them. “The war has united the Buffalo Flag. More militias are forming. The Kellogg Code is being posted in every church and plaza.”
“This one is from Señora Williamson,” Tom said, reading one of the missives. “It seems even the Californios are suddenly thinking we’re the best bet. Los Angeles is sending a battalion to reinforce Santa Fe.”
“Sounds like the gold is safe,” Smith remarked.
“Of course it’s safe,” I said. “Who’s going to challenge the army that beat both Mexico and the Brazos militias?”
“We didn’t defeat the Mexican army. We didn’t even fight them,” Tom corrected.
“Says we did, right here,” I said, holding up a copy of the San Francisco Examiner. “Second column. “Buffalo Flag Triumphs.”
“The story is wrong,” Tom protested.
“The story is already history, Tommy,” I replied.
“With the troubles over, it’s time to resolve the governing issues that have bothered so many,” I announced, standing so the large crowd could see me. “President Crockett, what would you recommend?”
As I took my seat, Crockett stood to the cheers of the mob, raising his coonskin cap before laying it on the table before him.
“Seems it’s time to form a Congress,” Crockett said. “Military rule’s got its place in time of war, but war’s over. For now.”
There was cheering, Crockett basking in the glow of their admiration. The old bear hunter had come to Texas for a fresh start, but I doubt he ever envisioned a moment like this. He had, after all, lost as many runs for Congress as he’d won.
“What sort of Congress would this be?” de Zavala asked. “Under the Brazos constitution, the Tejano people lost the right to vote. Our lands were stolen. Our stock was taken without payment. This is not a government we can respect.”
“Señor de Zavala was not the only victim,” Chief Guatimini also protested. “Houston promised our land claims would be confirmed, but Lamar came to rob us. We have seen the Americans steal our land in Alabama. In Georgia. Our people put on a trail of tears. What protection will a white congress offer the Cherokee?”
“We can’t have no dictators,” John Wesley Crockett said. “This may be Texas, but we’re still Americans. Can’t live under nothing less than liberty.”
“Liberty to let lawyers steal farms from humble folk? Liberty for a few rich men to tell the rest of us how to live?” Brister said, defiantly pounding the table.
It surprised me. I’d served with Nathaniel since he was my aide at the Alamo, shared hard days and long rides, and knew he came from a prosperous Virginia family. But didn’t know he was such a radical.
“Necesitamos una constitución,” Juan Almonte said.
“Yes, we need a constitution,” Tom agreed.
“Excuse me, esteemed delegates,” General Castrillón said, rising with great dignity. “But your Buffalo Flag waves from Galveston to San Francisco. You are Americans, Tejanos, Mexicans, Cherokee, Apache, Comanche, Californios, and a dozen others. How will you manage such an empire?”
“Through the voice of the people!” some miscreant yelled from the mob.
“It’s white man’s country!” someone else shouted.
“Let’s vote!” a recently pardoned rebel yelled, as if we would let any of them have the franchise fresh from arms against us.
The meeting wasn’t out of control, but was tending in an awkward direction. Crockett leaned over, motioning with his hands.
“What are ya thinkin’, George?” he whispered.
“It took our forefathers twelve years to come up with a constitution, and it was so badly flawed it led to war,” I answered. “We don’t have such luxuries.”
I looked at Tom and saw he had no ready answer for our dilemma. As I knew he wouldn’t. He had led a company of forty troopers for ten years, and often acted as my aide-de-camp, before winning his star. Nothing in his experience prepared him for forming a government.
“Tommy?” I said.
“We’ve got to be fair, Autie,” was his only answer.
I stood up and raised my hands for attention. Had my leg not been wrapped from ankle to kn
ee, I’d have looked for a sturdy cracker barrel to stand on. Voss blew his bugle. As the wind picked up, I noticed our banners flapping in the breeze.
“My friend General Castrillón is correct about our challenges,” I said, suppressing a high-pitched tone to my voice. “We are a vast empire, filled with diverse constituencies. We have been at war. We may be at war again. Texas has few resources other than land. The farms have been plundered, the ranches stripped. The treasury is empty. But Texas does not stand alone. We have friends in California. Horses and cattle to restock this land. Silver in Nevada. Treasure in Utah and Colorado.
“In the days after the Alamo, David Crockett and I envisioned a new Texas, one where every man could rise on his own merits. To accomplish this, we need a federation. A federation of states, wielded into an empire. Like the empires of Rome and Persia, we need a strong centralized state to take us through these difficult times. I propose our government be placed in San Francisco. I know the people there. It’s where the gold is. We have the protection of distance and the sea.”
The crowd remained silent. I had hoped for cheers. Agreement that California offered stability, and that my leadership would be recognized. I glanced toward Tom, who was whispering to Cooke and Smith. They did not seem enthusiastic. Señors Seguin and de Zavala were vested in their own homeland. Chief Guatimini and Chief Flacco the Elder were unimpressed by a land far removed from their hunting grounds. Houston was smiling, as if I’d finally made the blunder he’d been hoping for. I turned to Crockett, who shook his head.
“Now that everyone’s had their say, let’s get this over with,” General Keogh suddenly said, walking between the tables where all could see him. Until then, I hadn’t realized he had been watching from one of the wagons rather than sitting in counsel.
“Myles?” I said, surprised.
“George, you got good ideas, but California is too far away. That’s a simple fact. Some of you want a congress, and say a constitution will protect the rights of the people. Well, no one knows better than an Irishman how worthless paper can be. So this is what we’re gonna do.”
Keogh motioned to the crowd. Captains, lieutenants and sergeants came forward by the bushel, including members of my regimental staff. I should not have been surprised. While Tom and I had been gallivanting around the country, Keogh had been left to hold Texas against steep odds, and performed his duty superbly. He had earned the loyalty of this army.
“Now good old George ain’t much of a talker, but he likes readin’,” Keogh continued. “An’ he give me this book on the Archimedies.”
“Achaemenids,” I corrected.
“These Achaemenids was a big empire in Persia, lots of land and of lots of folks, just like we got. They had to make some tough decisions. So do we,” Keogh explained.
Keogh strolled around the tables, smiling and slapping a few backs. I noticed Crockett discreetly put his coonskin cap back on.
“From what I understand, their empire had a king. We can’t have no king, but we can have a president,” Keogh elaborated. “This king governed his land with a bunch of stirrups.”
“Satraps,” I corrected again.
“Each district had a satrap, sort of a governor, along with a general,” Keogh said. “And that’s what we need here. Tom, you’re gonna be the governor of East Texas. Chief Guatimini will watch over the Cherokee lands. Señor de Zavala, you are the governor of West Texas. You can set up a council, or a Congress, or whatever you need. People still get to vote. That ain’t gonna change.
“Bill Sharrow’s done a good job in New Mexico. I’ll be sending him his commission, and askin’ that he appoint this Cochise fella to be his general. General Castrillón, I don’t know that an officer here commands more respect than you do. We need help watching over Southern California. Can you do that for us, until we find someone more inclined?”
Castrillón stood up to the acclamation of the crowd. He bowed to the mob, bowed to Keogh, smiled in my direction, and then saluted. Keogh walked over and shook his hand.
“George, you’ve done fine in the north of California. I’d like to see you keep it up,” Keogh urged.
“Who is going to be president?” I asked.
“We already have a president, and his name is David Crockett,” Keogh replied. “Isn’t that right, boys?”
“Crockett! Crockett!” the men shouted.
Shots were fired, bugles blared, and my own band began playing “For He’s a Jolly Good Fellow”. Crockett was helped up on the table, waving and bowing. Tom, Cooke, Almonte and the younger Seguin surrounded him, offering their support. Keogh wandered over to stand at my side.
“Sorry, George. Had to do what’s best,” he whispered. “And you did leave me in charge.”
“That I did, Myles,” I said. “Are you the Lieutenant General of the Army now?”
“I deserved a promotion,” Keogh answered.
A chief will say that great problems are not settled by great councils, only great leaders. It surprised many that General Keogh emerged as the leader on this day, and that his words would form a government that lasted many years. Like the tribes of the People, the Buffalo Nations determined to be cousins. To assume a warrior’s responsibility while sharing a brother’s burdens. I thought Custer would be angry that he was not the great chief, and for a time, I think he was. But as all things with Custer, the disappointment soon faded. California was about to be overrun with gold hunters, the Comanche would rise in revolt, and the Americans in the east would soon be fighting amongst themselves. But those problems awaited another time. At the town of Velasco, on a sunny afternoon in August of 1838, a nation arose that would one day be the allies of my people. Wakan Tanka’s vision was at last becoming clear.
Epilogue
OLD SOLDIERS
Three years after the Battle of Velasco, I woke up on a rainy June morning, gave Isabella a kiss, and strolled down Nob Hill from Custer House to Juanita’s Catania near the docks. San Francisco continued to grow like no other city in the world, now boasting forty thousand people. Ships filled the harbor, merchants hawked their wares, and tradesmen sat in coffee houses crafting deals. Uniformed police officers walked the streets in pairs, asking questions and checking permits, for strict laws were need to maintain order. Antonio López de Santa Anna had taught me that, and the new city hall was named in his honor.
Taking my usual seat at a window overlooking the bay, I gave the newsboy a nickel for the San Francisco Examiner that I read while waiting for breakfast. French troops had landed in Vera Cruz, just as Louis Philippe’s government had threatened. Queen Victoria and Prince Albert finally had a male heir, who they’d named Edward. South Carolina had declared independence from the United States, again, but this time they were being ignored by the Clay administration. Preparations continued in Texas for the Velasco Day celebrations, reminding me that I had a long trip ahead.
After a quick meal of pork sausage and fried eggs, I limped along the Embarcadero toward the stable where my carriage awaited, doffing my hat and waving my cane at friendly passersby. Some mornings I rode Vic up to the fort, but my leg tended to hurt on damp days, urging the warmth of a closed cab and leather seat.
“Good morning, General,” John said, emerging from his quaint house on 2nd Street to join me, as he always did. His wife waved goodbye, holding their baby in her arms.
“Good morning, Mr. Armstrong,” I returned. “Ready for a boat ride?”
“And the stagecoach, after that,” John said with a grin. “Me and Martha is lookin’ forward to seein’ Texas again.”
“Isabella is excited, too. It’s been a year since she’s seen her father. Longer since I’ve seen Tom,” I said, for such long distances can be difficult. “A few years from now, we’ll be taking the train instead. We’ll get there in three days instead of four weeks.”
“That be nice, sir. Mighty nice,” John agreed.
Ben Travane joined me at the carriage house, for I liked to be briefed on the day’s business duri
ng the ride up to my office at the Presidio. Ben was a civilian now, well-dressed in a fine brown suit, but continued to act as my financial manager. I never did learn to handle money well, but I did learn to trust those who could.
“George Hearst got good news from Virginia City,” Ben reported, flipping through a thick stack of letters. “Another rich vein. Town might be growing faster than San Francisco.”
“Do we own any of the hotels there?” I asked.
“Of course, George. At least, I do.”
I knew he was joking. Sort of. Ben often made the initial investments and then brought me in as a partner. I didn’t mind as long as Isabella and I got our share.
“Looks like I got Egypt,” I remarked.
“Sir?” Ben asked.
“When Alexander the Great died, his generals carved up his empire,” I explained. “Ptolemy was given Egypt, which proved the richest province. Maybe I didn’t become president of the Buffalo Flag, like Crockett was, but I didn’t get cheated.”
“President de Zavala still looks to you for advice. Some even say you are the true power of the Nations,” Ben observed.
“Like I said, I got the richest province.”
We reached The Point, passed the new Fisherman’s Wharf, and made the final turn to the Presidio. The tall white stone walls loomed like a guardian over the bay. The guard post there was alert, inspecting the credentials of office seekers, while the tower recorded the ships sailing through the Golden Gate. The rush of prospectors had created chaos for a period of time, but quick justice and the occasional hanging now ensured proper respect for authority.
We left the carriage on the parade ground and I hobbled up the stairs to my office on the second floor. The walls were decorated with captured enemy flags and portraits of famous men. The oak desk was a gift from Admiral Cochrane, made from the timber of a retired ship-of-the-line. A potbelly stove in the corner allowed me to remove my wet coat and work in shirtsleeves. From the window, I could see all the way to Sausalito on a clear day.
“Good morning, brother. You are late again,” Tatanka said, entering before I even had a chance to sit down. He wore a wool suit and tie, as always, his long hair held back by a red head band.
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