Gone to Texas (27 page)

Only about five hundred remained in camp when Ben Milam returned from a scout. He had recently escaped after capture by Cós in Mexico, and he was outraged at the sight of the men preparing to abandon the siege. Accompanied by Frank W. Johnson, he stormed up to Burleson, who explained what had happened. He also favored an attack, Burleson said, and he told Milam to call for volunteers. About three hundred responded. Milam divided them into two columns, one under his command, the other under Johnson. Burleson held the rest in reserve.

Just before dawn on December 6, Colonel Neill made a diversionary attack on the Alamo with one of the captured cannon. Hearing the Mexican troops rush there, Milam and the others charged into San Antonio. They fought from house to house, driving steadily toward the military plaza. On the third day, when a sniper's bullet killed Milam, Johnson took over command and the fighting continued without interruption. On December 9 Cós asked for terms. Not wanting to prolong the conflict, Burleson was generous, and Cós agreed to leave Texas. Although Mexican casualties had been heavy, the Texians lost only Milam and Captain Peacock. That convinced them they had nothing more to fear from Mexico, so most headed for home, leaving Colonel Neill and volunteers from the States at San Antonio.

Micajah soon returned to Nacogdoches, looking weary but contented. His blond hair reached his shoulders, and his square jaw was hidden by a reddish beard.

“I never expected you to pull it off,” Ellis said. “Tell me about it.”

“They're scrappy little fellers, I give ‘em credit for that,” Micajah replied, “but their guns and powder are inferior, and they ran out of grub because we held Goliad. We just kept after ‘em until Cós knew he was whipped.” He brushed hair out of his face. “Now that all Mexican troops are out of Texas, I'm wondering what's next. What's your guess?”

Ellis frowned and folded his arms across his chest. “If they think it's over, they're way off the mark,” he replied. “They say Santa Anna really destroyed Zacatecas for opposing him, and my guess is he won't be satisfied as long as there's one cabin still standing in Texas. His army is already gathering in Saltillo, I hear, and don't forget Cós is his brother-in-law. I figure Santa Anna himself will come at the head of his army so they can enjoy their revenge together.” He paused and looked Micajah in the eye. “Texians better start getting ready for a real war right now. If they don't, I hate to think what will happen.”

Micajah looked surprised, then shrugged. “They won't do it,” hesaid. “After beating at least three times their number, they can't believe Mexico will risk sending another army here. It'll take a real shock to make ‘em think different.”

“By then it could be too late,” Ellis said somberly.

Weeks before the delegates gathered for the Consultation at Washington-on-the-Brazos on March 1, 1836, Ellis was convinced their cause was already lost. Provisional Governor Smith and the council had quarrelled bitterly over the Matamoros expedition, which the council had approved over Smith's veto. Most of the volunteers from the States, who chafed at the inactivity, had eagerly joined the expedition, leaving Colonel Neill with only one hundred men to defend San Antonio. The council, bypassing Houston, had compounded its error by naming James W. Fannin and Frank W. Johnson separately to command the expedition. The two were competing for recruits, but most of the volunteers from the States were at Goliad with Fannin. The council, on its own authority, deposed the governor, but since late January it had ceased to function for lack of a quorum. Santa Anna's troops were poised to strike, while Texas had neither government nor army, and the independent volunteers were preparing to loot Matamoros. It appeared to Ellis that Texians were purposely inviting disaster.

Early in February 1836, Ellis was surprised to see Sam Houston in Nacogdoches. “I know I'm supposed to be in command,” Houston explained, “but because Governor Smith supports me, the council undercut me. The governor furloughed me to make a treaty with the Cherokees to keep ‘em neutral.”

“Good idea,” Ellis said. “If the Mexicans attack on one side and the Indians on the other....”He shook his head. “I figure it'll be tough enough without that.”

Houston looked grave. “Our only real hope is to make Santa Anna extend his supply lines to the breaking point while we muster an army. At that point we'll have a good chance of defeating ‘em, but it won't be easy. I've sent Bowie to San Antonio with orders for Neill to blow up the Alamo and pull back.”

Ellis declined Houston's invitation to accompany him to the Cherokee villages. “It would be better to take Goyens,” he said. “If I go, and any of the Indians join the Mexicans, everyone will remember I'm a Mexican officer and hold me responsible.”

Late in February, Ellis was astonished to learn that Neill had refused to blow up the Alamo and withdraw, and that Bowie had also vowed to “die in these ditches” rather than retreat. Then came a letter from Travis, who'd arrived there with thirty men. Neill had been called home because of illness in his family, and Bowie was incapacitated, leaving Travis in command of the 155 men there. His letter was addressed to the people of Texas and all Americans in the world. They had been under constant bombardment, Travis wrote, and more Mexican troops arrived daily. He expected Fannin and his volunteers to come from Goliad, but he called on Texians to rush to his aid, vowing never to surrender. In the following days other moving appeals from Travis reached the settlements, but Ellis saw no sign of response from the men around Nacogdoches. Many apparently couldn't believe the situation was serious; others were determined not to fight and risk losing their lands. Some, like Micajah, were with ranger companies protecting settlers from the Comanches. Ellis heard that thirty-two men from Gonzales had headed for the Alamo, and wondered if they'd been able to slip through Mexican lines.

On March 5 young Jim Allen set out for Gonzales with another desperate appeal from Travis, for he'd learned at last that Fannin wasn't coming. Copies of the letter were speedily carried to other settlements. Incredibly, the only Texians who'd responded to his repeated pleas were the thirty-two from Gonzales, but this time parties of men from many settlements set out for the Alamo. At Gonzales they learned that the Mexican army had completely surrounded the old mission, so they stopped there, cursing themselves for waiting too long.

The news that reached Nacogdoches in March was sketchy and often contradictory, but wild, exaggerated rumors abounded. Ellis learned that on March 2, the Consultation at Washington-on-the-Brazos had declared Texas independent, but with six or seven thousand Mexican troops already north of the Rio Grande, it seemed a futile gesture. The delegates, said to be the ablest and most experienced men in Texas, had elected an interim government, with David G. Burnet as president and Mexican liberal Lorenzo de Zavala as vice-president. They named Houston commander of all armed forces, including the volunteers from the States. While a committee drew up a constitution, Houston hurried to Gonzales, where 370 Texians still waited. Two Tejanos from San Antonio brought the almost unbelievable news that on March 6, the day after Travis sent his final appeal, Santa Anna's army had overwhelmed the 187 Alamo defenders and slaughtered them to the last man.

Having learned of the Alamo's fall and that Mexican columns were on the march, the delegates to the Consultation hastily concluded their work in the early hours of March 17, then adjourned and departed. The interim government immediately left for Harrisburg. Their obvious haste spread panic among the families and triggered the Runaway Scrape. Without taking time to pack provisions or to don proper clothing, terrified women and children, accompanied by a few men and slaves, plodded miserably through mud, cold, and steady rain as if demons were after them.

There was no way of knowing where Houston's little army was after it burned and abandoned Gonzales, but Ellis heard that parties of Texians, at last fully aroused by the peril facing them, had grimly set out for the Colorado in search of it.

In April, even more shocking news arrived. Houston had ordered Fannin to abandon Goliad and march immediately to Victoria. Fannin, who was confident no Mexican troops would dare attack his force, waited nearly a week before marching. The delay gave able General José Urrea, who'd crossed the Rio Grande at Matamoros, time to intercept Fannin's column and force it to surrender. Urrea sent the prisoners, nearly all volunteers from the States, back to Goliad. There on Palm Sunday—March 27—on Santa Anna's direct order, they were marched out in three columns and halted. Infantrymen opened fire on them, while dragoons lanced those who fled. About twenty-five escaped to tell the story—Mexicans had rescued some of them; others had feigned death or made it to the woods, where Tejano families sheltered them.

When word of the shocking massacre at Goliad reached Nacogdoches, more men rushed off to join Houston. A delegation of citizens came to Ellis' ranch one day and took him into custody as a Mexican officer and an alien, then confined him in the Old Stone Fort. “It's for your own safety,” William Roark told him. “Some men are so wild about what happened at Goliad they might think you're Santy Anny and shoot you.” Ellis thanked him.

As he gazed around at the high stone walls, his thoughts turned back to the time Nolan's men had been held there in what seemed a lifetime ago, and shook his head. Then he'd been a captive of Spain, with no idea what was in store for him. Now he was a Mexican officer, and his own countrymen had confined him in the same place, and again he wasn't sure what the future held. He thought of what was likely to happen when Santa Anna's army approached Nacogdoches and shuddered. Outraged Texians would probably riddle him with bullets just for having been a Mexican officer. That's a hell of a way to wind up, he thought.

As it turned out, his confinement was surprisingly brief. “Houston's army wiped out Santy Anny's column at San Jacinto and captured him,” Roark told him one day. “Santy Anny ordered the rest of the army to leave Texas, and they're headin' for the Rio Grande with Colonel Rusk following ‘em to see they cross it. He ordered you released on parole, but that means you're free. The war is over and Texas is independent.”

Ellis' jaw dropped. “You mean Santa Anna ordered them to leave and they obeyed him?” He could hardly believe his ears, but a great wave of relief swept over him, and he hoped he wasn't losing his mind. Texians had needed a miracle, and they got one when Santa Anna fell into their hands.

“Yes,” Roark replied. “If they'd marched immediately to San Jacinto they could have had an easy victory. Houston was down with a shattered ankle and his army was in such total confusion that any one of the Mexican columns could have made short work of it.” He smiled broadly and waved his arms. “It's the most unexpected, incredible ending imaginable,” he continued. “Of course we'll likely have to fight ‘em again one day, but we should be better prepared another time. If we can just join the States in the meantime, we won't have to worry.”

Thinking he might soon leave for Jalapa, Ellis assigned his salt lick contract to another and sold his share in the land and mills south of Nacogdoches to Haden Edwards and James Carter. He also sold hundreds of acres of unimproved land to a score of buyers. Because he'd never been paid for the lumber he supplied on credit for building the barracks, he brought suit against Colonel Piedras as an abandoned debtor. “Feeling fully satisfied that the said José de las Piedras, colonel, as aforesaid, will never return to this Republic,” he wrote, “and having no other means of obtaining justice and the demand due, I request a writ of attachment.” The court granted it, and Ellis seized Piedras' properties, which included a valuable lot next to Frost Thorn's general store in Nacogdoches.

In November 1837 Candace married a man named Isaac Hix, but bad luck still dogged her. Shortly after her marriage, Hix was accused of horse-stealing. Apparently the charge was true, for Hix immediately disappeared, and Candace heard no more of him.

Ellis continued to live at his ranch and to serve unofficially as Indian agent to keep the immigrant tribes peaceful. On one occasion he visited the Cherokees to serve as a witness when his namesake, Little Bean, granted freedom to his slaves, Billa and Mina, in exchange for the eleven hundred dollars they'd earned. In March 1839, chief Bowles agreed to journey to the plains and negotiate with the Comanches, who were now anxious to make peace with the Texians.

That same month rangers killed an East Texas troublemaker named Manuel Flores near San Antonio. On his body they found a letter that made it clear Mexican officials were trying to enlist the help of the Indians in the reconquest of Texas. Mirabeau B. Lamar, who had succeeded Houston as president of the Texas Republic, seized this as a pretext for expelling all of the immigrant tribes. Houston angrily protested, and Ellis supported him, but the majority in East Texas agreed with Lamar that the Indians must go, for they had cleared and cultivated fertile lands that whites coveted. The Delawares and other small tribes gave up and departed, but the Cherokees refused to leave until their corn was ripe. In mid-July the Texian militia attacked them, killing Bowles and many others, and driving the survivors across the Red River.

Ellis shared Houston's outrage over the callous treatment of the Cherokees. Bowles had dissuaded the Cherokees from joining the Fredonians and kept the tribes neutral during the Texas Revolution. He had also sent his warriors against the Comanches, and had agreed to negotiate peace with them, but instead of gratitude, this was his reward.

A few years earlier, Ellis had written the story of his experiences under Nolan and Morelos. When young John H. Reagan visited him, Ellis showed him the manuscript and asked him to edit it and arrange for its publication. And because travel was difficult for him, Ellis urged him to go to Mexico City and collect his pay for his final years of military service, and on the way to deliver a letter to his wife. Reagan had to decline both requests, for hejvas in no position to oblige him.