Gone to Texas (28 page)

In January 1841, Ellis was delighted when eighteen-year-old Louiza Jane married William Lacey, the son of the county clerk. Now, he thought, I have no excuse for not pulling up stakes, but he was so crippled by rheumatism that he dreaded the journey and kept putting it off. Except on warm days, he didn't even ride to Nacogdoches.

Finally he made up his mind to go. On April 12,1843, he drew up his will, naming his nephew Sam Bean and cousin Dr. Jesse Bean as executors and guardians for his seventeen-year-old son, Ellis. Sam Bean was a short, heavy-set farmer in his twenties. Jesse was in his forties; a slender, dignified, honest physician with brown hair and eyes and a neatly trimmed beard.

“Why don't you transfer your property to them right now?” Jesse asked. “It's not likely you'll ever return, and that's the only sure way to see they get it.”

Ellis looked embarrassed. “You're right, I know,” he admitted, “but I just can't bring myself to close the door on comin' back here. Down there I'll have nothing to do, and I don't know for sure I can stand it.” Jesse shook his head but said nothing more.

Ellis left his oldest son Isaac the undivided half of his headright of a league and a
labor
near the Trinity, as well as the slave girl Louiza. Louiza Jane would receive the slave girl Matilda, who was already in her possession. To his son Ellis he left his ranch and livestock, including his fine stallion Bolton, and also the old slaves Dory and Vina, their son, and three daughters.

He said goodbye to Louiza Jane, who wept to see him leave, then headed for Natchitoches, where he sold his horse and saddle before boarding a riverboat for the trip downstream to New Orleans. There he bought passage on a vessel bound for Veracruz, where he climbed painfully into the stagecoach that passed through Jalapa on its way to Mexico City. Eager though he was to see Magdalena, Ellis couldn't keep his mind from roaming back to Nacogdoches and the things he felt he'd left unfinished there. When the coach stopped at Jalapa, he asked the driver to let him off at Las Banderillas.

“We usually stop there for water when coming from Mexico City,” the driver told him. “The lady who owns it always invites the passengers into her house and gives them
dulces
to eat. Then she asks every foreigner if he's seen her husband the colonel, and describes everything about him. You fit the description, only the man she describes is young.”

“I'm the one,” Ellis confessed, feeling ashamed. “I've been gone way too long.”

When he alit from the stage and walked stiffly toward the vine-covered big house, he saw Magdalena at the door, surprised that the Mexico City coach had stopped. As he hobbled toward her, Ellis saw that she was stouter than before but still attractive. When she recognized him, she gave a happy cry and hurried into his outstretched arms.

“You're home to stay at last,” she told him firmly. “I'll never let you leave again without me. I've been much too lonely all those years without you.”

Ellis had little to do, for servants waited on him and Magdalena lovingly watched over him as if he were the child she'd never had. Whenever the coach stopped, he asked the passengers for any newspapers they could spare, and read each one several times. He tried hard to forget about Nacogdoches, but he badly missed his ranch and his friends there.

One day in late March 1844, the coach to Mexico City unexpectedly stopped, and Ellis felt gooseflesh on his arms when he saw Dr. Jesse Bean, looking more dignified than ever, alight. He knew at once that Jesse hadn't made the long journey to bring him good news; fears rising, he tried to imagine what calamity might have occurred. He winced from the pain in his hand when Jesse shook it.

“I hate to be the bearer of bad tidings,” he said solemnly.

“I knew you wouldn't come all this way just to say howdy,” Ellis replied. “What is it?”

“For one thing, Louiza Jane died about six months after you left, preceded by both children. Poor Lacey was naturally devastated.”

“Louiza Jane! My God?” Ellis exclaimed. “She was so young. It should have been me instead.”

“That's not all of it, I'm sorry to say. Here's a letter from William Roark that explains it in detail. Your nephew Sam wasn't up to your trust in him by any means. The long and the short of it is that he went through almost everything you owned before I could stop him.” Groaning, Ellis cursed himself for not dividing his property before he left, as Jesse had advised.

Magdalena insisted that Jesse stay as long as he could, and they took him on buggy rides to Jalapa and on visits to other
haciendas.
Ellis sat in a daze much of the time, thinking only of Louiza Jane, but when Magdalena wanted to explain something to Jesse, he mechanically interpreted for her.

“I can't stay much longer,” Jesse protested after several weeks had passed, “or I'll never be able to leave this delightful country. The talk of annexing Texas has revived in Washington, and who knows? This time it may be serious, and it could lead to war. I can't afford to get caught here in that event. I'll deliver any letters you care to write, and I'll assure your friends you're living in comfort and ease.”

“Wish I could go with you,” Ellis told him wistfully. “I aim to come when my rheumatism is better.” He held up his gnarled hands and painfully flexed his crooked fingers. Jesse stared at him blankly, his expressionless face discreetly masking his doubts.

With great difficulty, Ellis scrawled a note to “Mr. William Roark my old friend Esq—Received your letter by Dr. Bean and see that Sam Bean is a Rascal. But one knows not who to trust. He is a Rogue and a Liar, but let him go. My fingers is stiff and I can't write good, but I am getting well fast. Dr. Bean can tell you all. Remember me to your lady. When the weather becomes cool you will see me. Remaining your old friend, Peter E. Bean.” Because writing was so painful, Ellis sent messages to his sons by Jesse.

He followed the news as best he could, but it was impossible to get a clear picture of what went on in Mexico City or Washington, or in Texas, for that matter. It seemed certain that the government would retaliate if the U.S. annexed Texas, and late in 1845, he read that the U.S. had admitted Texas as a state. His friend Almonte, who was Mexican minister to Washington, had demanded his passport and departed in protest, thereby severing diplomatic relations between the U.S. and Mexico.

It was frustrating for Ellis to be so far away when exciting events were taking place in Texas. He'd often talked of visiting his friends in Nacogdoches. Why not now? he asked himself.

“I need to go to Texas and take care of some business and see my friends,” he told Magdalena. “It looks like trouble is coming, and I should get there before it starts,” he added, but without conviction.

Magdalena gazed at him fondly, and he knew she saw through him. “Of course, my dear,” she replied, gently stroking his cheek. “But I can't let you travel alone. You keep on getting better; when you're well, and after the crops are in, we can both go. Our last journey together ended rather badly, remember? This one will be better.” He'd almost forgotten the day his horse gave out when a troop of Spanish dragoons pursued them. If she hadn't made him take her horse. ... He shivered at the thought of a lance blade thrust between his ribs.

Most days Ellis sat on a stone bench among the roses, inhaling the scented air, reveling in the sunshine, drinking the hot chocolate the servants brought him, and muttering endlessly to himself. From the papers he knew that Mexico was angrily preparing for war, but he couldn't tell if it was serious preparation or mere political bluster.

In May 1846, Ellis read that American troops had invaded Mexico by crossing the Nueces, which had been the border between Texas and the Mexican state of Tamaulipas. He recalled that Santa Anna had agreed on the Rio Grande as the boundary between Mexico and Texas, but the government had naturally disavowed all of the concessions he'd made to save his life. Later Ellis read that Mexican dragoons had captured American soldiers near the Rio Grande; the U.S. declaration of war soon followed. He saw that the two armies had fought at Palo Alto and Resaca de la Palma, but the papers were vague as to the outcome. They asserted, however, that Mexican troops were massing at Matamoros, which he took to mean that they had withdrawn or been forced back across the Rio Grande.

At sixty-three, Ellis suddenly realized that his life was rapidly slipping away; the years in the dungeons at San Luis Postosi and Acapulco were now taking their toll, and he felt feeble. I'm fixing to die, he thought, and far from my native land. He forgot about the war—it no longer mattered as he became obsessed with getting to Texas before he died. Down deep he'd never been reconciled to living out his last days at Jalapa, and now he felt the desperation of a trapped animal. It isn't fittin' for me to die so far from where I belong, among my children and friends, he thought.

That afternoon his face felt hot, and he stretched out on the bench half asleep. His clouded mind rambled aimlessly back over the years, and he saw Morelos engulfed in the smoke of battle. He saw William Roark and other friends, who smiled and shook hands with him. Then Louiza Jane appeared, wearing her favorite dress, and his pulse quickened. She beckoned to him, and he saw that her expression was sad. “Papa,” she pleaded, “please come home. I want to be with you.”

“I'll come!” he said aloud, and sat up, feeling a wave of energy sweep over his wasted body. He looked around for Louiza Jane, wondering where she'd gone. I must go to her now, he thought, while I still can. He walked firmly into the big house.

“Tomorrow I'm goin' to Texas to see Louiza Jane,” he told the startled Magdalena. “She wants me with her, and I'm feeling pretty good.”

Magdalena stared in amazement at his flushed face and feverishly bright eyes. Then she quickly lowered her gaze to conceal the terror that gripped her like icy fingers around her throat, for she knew Louiza Jane was dead. She anxiously hovered over him, fighting back her tears, until he fell into bed. Despite her desperate prayers and loving attention, that night, as she feared, Ellis closed his tired eyes for the last time.