Paxton and the Lone Star (49 page)

Below, the land rolled away to the south, and across it, like a giant, poisonous slug, danger marched through the bright spring sun. “What day is it?” Hogjaw asked, his voice hushed, almost reverent.

“The twenty-first of February. Why?” True asked, his eyes riveted to the mirrorlike flashes of sunshine on metal.

“I got a feeling folks are gonna remember it,” the mountain man replied. “Well, I seen enough. Best get out of here.”

They crawled backward until they were sure they couldn't be seen, then rose and ran for the horses. “Down the hill the same way we came,” True said, helping Elizabeth up, “then due east until we come to Cutter Creek. That'll put us a mile and a half south of Joseph's place.”

“I'll go first,” Hogjaw said, already moving. “There's gonna be more o' them scouts out. Keep your eyes peeled.”

The trail dropped rapidly. When it turned left, into the sun, Elizabeth shaded her eyes and remembered she'd forgotten her bonnet. Stupid, she thought to herself, thinking of a bonnet when … The fear struck, crept up her spine, turned her heart cold. She concentrated on the path and her riding. If she had an accident now … Her ears were ringing, her mouth tasted like copper. If there were only some way she could take back what she had seen. Soldiers, cannon, cavalry. A low dust cloud rising above the horizon.

They were off the ridge, riding abreast at an easy gallop across the bottom land. “I ain't seen so many men in one place since eighteen-twelve,” Hogjaw called to True. “That whippersnapper Travis reckoned Santy Anna wouldn't be able to gather much more than a couple thousand men. Hell, we seen that many ourselves, 'less I miss my guess, and that don't count neither their advance or what's making that dust cloud to its rear.”

“How many doesn't matter,” True answered. “What's important is, Travis has his war.” He pointed down the trail. “We turn left just past that grove of pecans. Kind of narrow and boggy there. I'll go first.”

They headed north and within fifteen minutes had intersected the trail on the top of the low ridge that ran below Joseph's. True reined in to give the horses and Mama a chance to blow. “The Alamo has to be warned,” he said. “As big a mess as they had there a couple of weeks ago, they'll need every minute they can get. There's nothing between them and that army except empty land.”

“I'll do that,” Hogjaw said. “You an' 'Lizabeth warn the others, then get yourselves on into San Antone. Hole up in the Alamo with the rest of us.”

True shook his head. “No. That's where they're heading. The Alamo's the worst place we could pick. You two gather up everyone around here. I'll holler at the Kempers when I ride past their place, so they'll be ready when you get there. You can cut cross country due east, camp out overnight, and get to Sutherland's Ford sometime tomorrow. Meanwhile, I'll tell Travis and Bowie what they're in for, and then ride out in the morning and meet you at Sutherland's.”

“The hell you say,” Hogjaw argued. “I'm goin' to San Antone. You stay with 'Lizabeth, where you oughta be.”

“That isn't the point,” True said bluntly. “Mama's fine, but she can't run as fast as Firetail can. Besides, you know a hell of a lot more about keeping alive than I do. Stay with her, Hogjaw. Will you do that for me?”

“Well …”

True swung Firetail around, met Elizabeth's worried look. “Do what he says, Elizabeth. Listen to him.” He took the saddlebags off Firetail and slung them across her bay, then steadied her as she leaned across the empty space between them. Suddenly, his arm was around her, holding her in an awkward embrace. “Don't worry,” he whispered hoarsely. “You'll be fine and so will I. We'll see each other at Sutherland's tomorrow.” There wasn't time for more. He glanced at Hogjaw over her shoulder and silently mouthed, “Take care of her.” A second later, he had let her go and was racing away from them toward San Antonio.

“I reckon we'd better …” The sentence faded and Hogjaw slumped in his saddle. “Well, hell and damn!”

Elizabeth followed his line of sight, then sat motionless, staring at the coiling smudge of smoke that must mark her and True's cabin and outbuildings. Numbly, she pictured all the possessions she held dear consumed in the flames. A letter from her grandfather, the family Bible, the furniture she and True had built, the daily menial implements of life valued as treasures to no one but herself. Most precious of all, their leaves just budding green, two rosebushes, yellow roses, by now surely curling into embers in the fury of the engulfing flames.

Chapter XXXIV

“Are we ever coming back?” Ruthie Campbell asked, watching her parents disappear inside the cabin. Her eyes were wide and, like her sister Dianne's, showed fear.

“Of course we are, silly,” Dianne replied archly. She stepped over a sack of potatoes and threw her winter coat into the back of the wagon. “Aren't we, 'Lizabeth?”

“Of course,” Elizabeth assured her, keeping a nervous watch on the twin wagon ruts that marked the road leading away from the farm to the south.

In the buckboard sitting next to the Campbells' wagon, little Bethann Elaine Paxton squalled her displeasure with a world that had upset her pleasant routine of eating and sleeping. Lottie rearranged the baby's wrappings and, shielding herself from view, opened her blouse to nurse the indignant infant.

Joseph and Scott emerged from the house carrying a massive chest of drawers between them. At the same time, Hogjaw came riding up the road from where he'd been keeping watch from a small knoll. “Leave it!” he shouted to the two men. “There ain't time!”

“Damn it, Hogjaw,” Scott exclaimed, “this has been in my family for years. Came over from England.”

“I don't give a hoot in hell if it came from the king hisself. Joseph, the first smoke's comin' up from your place. You stay here and dinky dally with this damn chunk of wood and you'll see that babe of your spitted on a lance.”

Joseph blanched, looked apologetically at Scott, and dropped his end of the load. “Sorry, Scott. Can't take the chance. My buckboard's empty too except for essentials.” He turned and trotted to his wagon. “If you're smart, you'll do the same.”

“Joseph's place fired already?” Scott asked, paling. Suddenly, as if it had just then dawned on him how serious the situation was, Scott dropped the other end of the trunk. “Joan!” he yelled, scooping up Dianne and putting her in the back of the wagon. “Out! Fast! Mackenzie! Let's move! What's taking so long?”

Mackenzie Campbell trotted his gelding around the corner of the house. “Right here, Pa.” He rode up to the wagon, carefully set a heavy bag into the rear. “I split the powder and shot. Half for you and half for me.” The gelding stopped again, this time at Scott's side. “I guess we'll find each other later when this is over with.”

“Later, hell, lad,” Hogjaw said, booting Mama toward Mackenzie. “Where you bound?”

“Dennis is in San Antone with Travis and the rest. I ain't about to miss the fun.”

“It won't be fun, lad. And you're needed with your folks.”

“No disrespect, Mr. Leakey, but I don't think so. I aim to fight.” Mackenzie turned his back on Hogjaw and leaned down to shake his father's hand. “Don't worry, Pa. I'll look after Dennis. Coupla weeks when this is … Hey!”

Hogjaw had reached out, grabbed a fistful of shirt, and was pulling Mackenzie out of his saddle. The young man struggled, but it was too late. Before he was even fully aware of what had happened, Hogjaw had tapped him gently on the skull with the hilt of a knife.

“Leakey! …” Scott shouted.

“Relax, Scott. I've got an angel's touch.” He turned Mama toward the Campbells' wagon and unceremoniously dumped Mackenzie in the back with Dianne and Ruthie. “You may thank me later. There's a time to die and a time to sleep, and a man needs to know the difference 'tween the two.” The deep folds in his face settled into a grim mask. “Now get your woman out of here, man. I ain't gonna wait any longer.”

He didn't have to ask twice. Laden with an armload of clothes, Joan emerged from the cabin. “This is most of it,” she said, stopping when she saw the chest in the middle of the yard. “Whatever?…”

“Into the wagon, woman,” Hogjaw said shortly.

Scott grabbed the clothes from her and carried them to the wagon.

“It'll slow us down, Joan,” Elizabeth said. “We have to hurry. Please?”

“But it means so much to me!”

“As much as Ruthie and Dianne?” Elizabeth jerked her head toward the south. “Our house is on fire already. So is Lottie's.”

“Let's go!” Hogjaw roared. He caught the reins of Mackenzie's horse and, riding close to Elizabeth, handed them to her. “Git, girl. Joseph, you too. Goddamn it, Scott, pick her up an' throw her in if you have to!”

His voice was like a slap that, along with the sight of Joseph and Lottie's buckboard leaving, brought Joan to her senses. She suddenly ran for the wagon, let Scott help her onto the seat. “Move back inside now, girls,” she said, in turn giving Scott a hand up. “Find a safe place. We'll be driving fast.”

“Mama, Mack looks so funny,” Ruthie said.

Joan turned, gasped when she saw her unconscious son. “Oh, my God! Mackenzie!”

“Giiiaaa, horses!” Scott shouted, releasing the brake and slapping the reins over the team's back. “Move move move!”

The team bolted forward. Joan grabbed the seat to keep from falling into the back of the wagon. “What happened?” she shouted over the racket.

“An angel touched him,” her husband said. “C'mon, horses. C'mon!”

“What?” Joan shrieked, incredulous.

“Hogjaw's way of telling him he ought to come with us. If I was you, I'd get back there and put something under his head so it won't bounce.”

Joan disappeared in a tangle of shirts and legs. Scott glanced over his shoulder. Behind him, the sky was ominously black with smoke. “Move, horses, move!” he shouted again, wielding the whip. The last thing he wanted Joan and the girls to see was their house burning.

Mila Kania made one final, quick tour of the cabin she and the Reverend had called home. Hastily built shortly after the move to Agradecido, it was virtually identical to the others. Only the Campbells had had a larger cabin, and that because of the four children. There had been talk of putting up the church at the same time, but Buckland had refused any special favors or treatment. It was better, he had said, that everyone should have a roof over their heads first. He would be glad to accept their labor later on when there was time to spare. Fifty feet from the modest cabin, the church had, in fact, been started. Osage orange, or beau d'art, logs held the floor off the ground. Hand-hewn and pegged framing, gray from exposure to the weather, rose on all four sides. Six benches served as temporary pews. Buckland himself, with hands little suited for carpentry, had built the pulpit from scrap wood. Mila thought it was beautiful.

The skeleton of faith, she thought now, pausing at the window and imagining it complete, its white spire reaching for heaven. Only a few more months, another year perhaps … Her eyes filling with tears, she snatched the quilt from the bed and hurried out the door.

“Scott will ride one of your horses and you can sit with Joan,” Elizabeth said. “Your food and clothes are already in the wagon.”

“In other words, hurry up,” Mila said, wishing with all her heart Buckland hadn't chosen this day to venture to San Antonio.

“Yes. In other words.”

“May I say one thing, Elizabeth? You'll have to promise never to tell.”

“Feel free. My lips are sealed,” Elizabeth replied.

Mila glanced around guiltily, then reached up to whisper in Elizabeth's ear. “Goddamn this Santa Anna to Hell!”

“Mila!”

“There. I feel better.” She stepped off the porch and headed for the waiting wagon. “Remember. You promised.”

The half-completed shell of the church made a lovely fire too.

Nels and Eustacia Matlan weren't home. The Thatche cabin lay silent and empty. The fugitives did not tarry at either place.

“I'll tell you the same as I told True,” Jack Kemper said. I'm not going.” Hands on hips, his narrow jaw thrust out, he was a figure of intransigent determination as he stood on the front steps of his trading post.

“We're not going,” Helen corrected from beside him. “We haven't done anything, and we intend to conduct business as usual. And if Santa Anna comes, so much the better. At least there'll be soldiers about to protect us from thieves,” she added, referring to the gunpowder taken from them earlier that month.

“That was conscription,” Hogjaw pointed out. “not thievery. Now get to your horses.”

“You leave us alone. All of you!” Helen screeched.

Mama flapped her cars and backed a step. Hogjaw quieted her. “Damned mule has more sense than you do. You got a shovel, Miz Kemper?”

“What?”

“I surely hope so. 'Cause if you stay, you'll be buryin' your man here.”

Jack looked at Helen. “Maybe—”

“We are
not
leaving, and that is that.” Helen's mouth was pinched tight with anger. “Jack,” she said, stalking up the steps and into the store, “your dinner will be ready in fifteen minutes.”

“You see how it is,” Jack said with a helpless shrug.

“Come with us, Mr. Kemper,” Elizabeth pleaded, walking her mare forward. “Make her come.”

“It's a fool's risk, Jack,” Joseph said.

“I … I don't think so. I—we've talked it over and decided we'd be better off trying to live with the powers that be than getting involved in some vain opposition.”

“Good Lord, man,” Hogjaw exploded. “These folks ain't opposin'. They're runnin'. It's two different things.”