After supper, directed by Joshua Hamilton, Stockton Saunders, and Alonzo Holden, the hundred men requested by Houston were supplied with ammunition and positioned in an enormous circle that surrounded the fort. Houston spoke to the hundred and more men who remained.
“I want all of you to supply yourselves with ammunition. Until we can locate the headquarters of Monclova and monitor his movements, we must be prepared for attack at all times.”
Twenty-five miles downriver, Monclova set up his camp and made preparations for a dawn attack on Houston's fort.
“We will depart two hours before the dawn,” said Monclova, “and we will attack when it is light enough to see. We will take no prisoners.”
Several times during the night, McQuade had spoken to Doctor Puckett about Andrew Burke's condition. An hour before dawn, he again paused where the doctor and Maggie sat with the ailing man.
“Is he going to make it, Doc?” McQuade asked.
“I think so,” said Puckett, “but if he fails to take care of himself, the next one will take him on out.”
McQuade spoke to the other Burkes, and when their watch was done, theyâwith the help of Doctor Puckettâcarried Andrew to the Burke wagon. It was still without canvas.
“There is an extra canvas in my wagon that was taken from the wagon captured from the Sutton gang,” said Puckett. “You're welcome to it. You'll need it to protect Andrew from the direct sunlight.”
“We're obliged,” Matthew replied. “I'll go with you and fetch it.”
The train took the trail, McQuade estimating that they were a little more than fifty miles north of the Rio Colorado.
Miguel Monclova and his entire command of fifty-two men rode upriver, preparing to attack Houston's fort at dawn. They were in good spirits, believing Houston's forces to be fewer than before, short on supplies and ammunition. Pedro Mendez and Hidalgo Cortez rode one on either side of Monclova, who discussed battle plans with them.
“The two of you will take half our forces upriver and attack from the west. I will be commanding the others from the east. When we have killed them all, we will meet at the fort and destroy it. ¿
Comprendistéis?
”
“
SÃ
,” said both men.
They rode on, readying their weapons, anticipating victory. Long before nearing the fort, Pedro Mendez and Hidalgo Cortez led half the forces to the north, so that they might bypass the fort and attack from the west. They were not aware that Houston's sentries had heard them coming, and dispersing, had allowed them to pass. Quietly, many of Houston's defenders came together, and one of them spoke.
“They're splittin' up, aimin' to come at us from two directions, like last time. Wilkes, you light a shuck to the fort and warn Mr. Sam. The rest of us will split up and
ride the circle, spreadin' the word. All we got to do is let 'em through our lines and then surround the varmints.”
They dispersed, and as dawn approached, the defenders prepared themselves for the coming attack. At the fort, Houston spoke quietly to the men who had remained there.
“Hold your fire until they're well within range. Divide equally into two forces. Force one will be positioned by the west wall, force two by the east wall. Force one will begin firing, reloading as force two opens fire. The sentries from the outer perimeter will move in, setting up a crossfire.”
Monclova's divided forces crept nearer the fort, and to the west. Pedro Mendez and Hidalgo Cortez paused, uneasy.
“I do not like this,” Mendez said. “Where are their sentries?”
Almost immediately he had his answer, as the defenders near the west wall cut loose a fusillade. It was signal enough for the sentries who had moved in behind the attackers, and they joined in, creating a deadly crossfire. The attackers could flee toward the river with little cover, or to the north. Without firing a shot, they ran for their lives, leaving behind their dead. Monclova, leading the rest of his men in from the east, encountered a crossfire of equal proportions.
“¡Madre de dios!”
Monclova shouted. “Fire! Kill them!”
But the surprise had been total, and the attackers who lived through the first volley had no desire to experience a second. They broke for the north, and finding himself alone, Miguel Monclova had little choice but to follow.
“Hold your fire,” Houston shouted, as it became obvious Monclova's forces had fled in ignominious defeat.
Tasting victory for the first time in many a day, the defenders shouted to one another as they surged toward the fort.
“Remember the Alamo!”
Hamilton, Saunders, and Holden were taking a count of the dead, and Houston waited for their report.
“Twenty of them dead,” said Hamilton, when the three returned.
“Well done, men,” Houston said. “Having lost so many, I don't look for them to try again until reinforcements arrive, but we can't take any chances. Those of you who were on sentry last night are relieved for the day. Joshua, you and Stockton position forty men on sentry duty until sundown. Alonzo, choose four men and send them downriver, where they are to watch Matagorda Bay. See that they have food and ammunition for a week, and at that time, they will be relieved. If there is any sign of a sailing ship, three are to remain on watch, while the fourth rides here to warn us.”
With renewed spirit, the men hastened to do his bidding.
Miguel Monclova's battered forces came together along the river, a few miles east of Houston's fort. Monclova was furious.
“Por Dios,”
he bawled, “
Cobardes, perros
, why you do not shoot? Why you run?”
“
Comandante,
” said Hidalgo Cortez, “we run because we do not wish to die as our comrades have. There are many more of them than before.”
Monclova was forced to consider his decimated forces, for many of those who had survived had been wounded. He had no choice except to return to his camp and await the promised ship which would bring supplies and reinforcements.
McQuade removed Andrew Burke from sentry duty, and Matthew and Mark took over the teams. The next day following Burke's attack, when the wagons had been circled, Doctor Puckett again examined Andrew Burke. Later, Puckett reported to McQuade.
. “He appears stronger,” said Puckett, “and that's usually a man's undoing. Soon as he begins feeling better,
he falls back into his old bad habits. He's flatly refusing to give up his pipe.”
“Do you think that's the cause of his heart condition?” McQuade asked.
“From an official standpoint, I have no proof,” said Doctor Puckett, “but I personally think that's part of it.”
“Keep him alive a little longer, Doc. A buryin' will cost us another day.”
Puckett laughed. “You're about as long on compassion as patience.”
Beginning their fourth day after leaving the Brazos, McQuade estimated they had come at least sixty of the remaining eighty-five miles. They had been on the trail only an hour when the Comanches struck, and the first warning McQuade and Creeker had was sudden gunfire somewhere behind them. Wheeling their horses, they fell in behind the outriders who had been nearest the lead wagons. The attack had come three-quarters of the length of the strung-out wagons, and the Comanches had already vanished. Will Haymes stood beside his horse, trying to calm the skittish animal. There was a bloody gash along its left flank.
“Anybody hurt?” McQuade asked.
“Only my horse,” said Will. “We saw them coming, and shot three of them off their horses before they got close enough to hurt us. Some of us rode after them a ways, and that's how they nicked my horse.”
“It worked out just grand,” Bess Jackman said. “They were driven away before they ever got to us.”
Bess had taken over the teams, allowing Bud to join the outriders.
“We didn't kill many of them,” said Joel Hanby, “but thank God, they didn't git none of us.”
“That's the important thing,” McQuade said. “Let's move on.”
The outriders returned to their positions, while McQuade and Creeker rode to the front of the train, answering questions as they passed the other wagons. The rest
of the day was uneventful, and when they again circled the wagons, they were only about twenty-five miles from their destination.
Three days after Sam Houston had sent four men to watch Matagorda Bay, one of the four rode in on a lathered horse. One of the men took the weary horse, and its rider all but fell from the saddle. Houston didn't wait for him to report, but came to meet him.
“What is it, Watkins?” Houston asked anxiously.
“Mexicans, sir. Near a hundred, ridin' from the south.”
“No ship, then,” said Houston.
“No, sir,” Watkins said. “They was ridin' in columns, like soldiers, but they was all in civilian clothes. We watched 'em ride upriver. I rode north, circlin' around 'em, to git the word to you.”
“Rest a while,” said Houston. “Then take a fresh horse and ride back to Matagorda Bay. The four of you remain there until you are relieved.” He then turned to Stockton Saunders. “Stockton, there is a duty to which I am going to assign you and Alonzo. You are to select two men to ride with you, and the four of you are to seek out the location of Monclova's camp. The two men you will take with you are to remain there, watching for any activity. Now that reinforcements have arrived, we must be aware of their movement at all times. Once you know where the camp is, and the men have their orders and are secure, report back to me.”
“A week's rations and ammunition for the men, sir?” Saunders asked.
“Yes,” said Houston. “After a week, you will send men to relieve them. Make note of it, and remind me.”
Houston sighed. It was all he could do. While his men were capable enough, he looked forward to the coming of the wagons, for he had been impressed with the manner in which McQuade and Creeker had foreseen his vulnerability by water. While initial reinforcements had arrived on horseback, that was no assurance that more menâwith massive amounts of ammunition and suppliesâwouldn't
sail into Matagorda Bay. His men had ammunition, had scored a telling victory, and men were in strategic positions to observe enemy movement. For the first time since San Jacinto, Houston believed that the Republic of Texasâwith or without statehoodâwould overcome Mexican rule.
Downriver, Miguel Monclova was jubilant when reinforcements arrived, and even more so when the
comandante
in charge, Antonio Hermosillo, handed him a bulky envelope from General Santa Anna himself. Monclova sighed with satisfaction, for had the general not lived up to his word? A sailing ship would soon arrive, with a plentiful supply of food, ammunition, and medical supplies. There would be a cannon with carriage, and what better use to be made of it than to knock down the walls of Sam Houston's foolish fort?
“Good news?” Mendez inquired.
“
Excelente
,”said Monclova.
The Rio Colorado. July 12, 1837.
McQuade and Creeker topped a rise and looked down on the Rio Colorado. Instead of riding on down, they stepped their horses aside and shouted as the outriders and the line of wagons rumbled past. When the last wagon rolled down toward the river, McQuade and Creeker rode ahead of the lead wagons and trotted their horses downriver. The wagons followed, and as the sun sank toward the western horizon, its rays swept the uprights of the fort's stockade, where an evening breeze touched the Lone Star flag of the Republic of Texas. It was a moment to be remembered, and every team was reined up. Men and women lifted their voices in a shout that brought men running from the fort. Those who had been on sentry duty rode in behind the wagons, shouting a welcome. Sam Houston himself ran to greet them. McQuade and Creeker swung down from their saddles, taking his hand.
“Welcome,” Houston shouted, loud enough for them all to hear. “Welcome to the Republic of Texas.”
T
he wagons were circled near the fort, to the east, on the bank of the Rio Colorado. It became a festive occasion, the women preparing supper for everybody. There were more than twenty supper fires, every one with a coffee pot. Houston's men were from Kentucky, Tennessee, Georgia, Mississippi, Alabama, Louisiana, Kansas, Missouri, and Arkansas. They went from wagon to wagon, introducing themselves, delighted when they met emigrants who had come from these states or had friends and kin there. After supper, with sentries plentiful, Houston called a meeting of the emigrants and his own men. Coffee pots bubbled over beds of coals, while Houston told of events of the past several days. He was quick to give credit to the emigrants for their gifts of food, medicine, and ammunition.
“They attacked us at dawn,” said Houston, “and with the ammunition you sent us, we caught them in a crossfire. Twenty of the attackers were killed. We didn't lose a man.”
There were delighted shouts from the emigrants, who were hearing of the victory for the first time.
“Mr. McQuade and Mr. Creeker gave us some excellent advice,” Houston said, “So we sent men to watch Matagorda Bay, in case the Mexican government sent a sailing ship with reinforcements, ammunition, and food.
Well, the ship hasn't come, but the reinforcements have, and we learned about them only because our men were near the Gulf, watching for the ship.”
“They traveled overland?” McQuade asked.
“They did,” said Houston. “Along the coast, on horseback, a hundred strong.”
“That won't make much difference,” Creeker said. “When we arrived, you gained more men than they did.”
“I am aware of that, and most thankful,” said Houston.
“That doesn't mean the ship won't come,” McQuade said. “It's one thing for men on horseback to travel from Mexico City, but quite another for wagons to successfully follow the same route. I've never been to Mexico, but I've known men who have, and it's mostly rough country. I still believe a sailing ship will bring food, ammunition, and other things, such as medical supplies.”
“I share that belief,” said Houston. “Matagorda Bay is still being watched. It's such an obvious possibility, we can't afford to overlook it. We are to be notified immediately when a sail is sighted.”
“Sometime soon,” McQuade said, “I'd like for you to study these legal papers dealing with our land grants. We'd like to know where this land lies, and if there's a chance of us ever claiming it.”
“I have given you my word that your grants will be honored, once Texas gains its independence from Mexico. As for the location, I've read some law in my time, and I can probably help you with that,” said Houston. “Perhaps I can do that tomorrow, while it's daylight.”
“We have another decision ahead of us,” Creeker said. “We've already decided that we can't claim our grants, as long as there's trouble with Mexico, and it could be years before that's behind us. All the way from St. Louis, we've struggled in and out of wagons, trying to stay dry while we ate and slept, and not successfully doin' either. I reckon I'm speaking for every man and woman here, when I say we got to have better quarters. Me, I don't even have a wagon.”
There was a thunderous roar of agreement from all those who had come down the trail from St. Louis.
“I have a suggestion,” Houston said. “We built this fort with the intention of it one day becoming a town. It's crude in the extreme, and if it was four times as large, it still wouldn't be decent accommodations for us all. I believe until this fight for independence is over, we should build cabins, grouped together for defense. They can be built of logs, two dwellings side by side. A connecting shelter in between can be used for cooking by both families in wet weather. You'll need many logs, but all of you have wagons and teams.”
“I like the idea,” said McQuade, “but that's goin' to involve an almighty lot of cabins. We'd be strung out for a mile or more, like we were in the wagons, while we were on the trail. I realize we can't all crowd into the fort, but we must be near enough to help one another in a time of need. Those farthest from the fort could be scalped by Comanches or gunned down by Mexicans before the rest of us could get to them.”
“The kind of shelter you agree upon, you will have to build,” Houston said, “and I am not going to interfere. My only concern is that your eventual decision be based upon what is best for our mutual defense. As Mr. McQuade has pointed out, we dare not separate ourselves to the extent that we can be murdered a few at a time. Perhaps we should ask for suggestions, accepting the most practical one.”
“What about it?” McQuade asked. “We won't have room for much more than a roof over our heads, if we're grouped near enough to the fort for common defense.”
“Then we need to put as many of us under one roof as we can,” said Will Haymes, “and still have a bit of privacy.”
“It won't be all that bad,” Maggie said, “if we're only buildin' sleeping rooms. Can't two, three, or four families have a common cook fire, like we did on the trail?”
“Perhaps Maggie's on to something,” said Doctor
Puckett. “It's the building of single-family houses, with fireplace and chimney, that will take time. Even if it wasn't going to separate us, we're talking about a massive amount of work for temporary shelter.”
“Suppose we built large cabins, each with sleeping quarters for four families?” Gunter Warnell suggested.
“Still too many separate cabins,” said McQuade. “If we're going to put up cabins large enough to house four families, why not build a second floor and house eight? With eight families working on a single cabin, we could have roofs over our heads in a few days.”
“We could still have a cooking shelter on the bottom level, with all eight families sharing the cooking,” Maggie said.
“It'll be better than livin' out of a wagon,” said Eli Bibb, “but who gets the top floors and who gets the bottom floors?”
“We can draw lots,” Creeker said, “but if you take the top, you'll have a wood floor. On the bottom, it'll be dirt.”
“I want a wood floor,” half a dozen women shouted in a single voice.
There was an immediate uproar, everybody trying to be heard above everybody else.
“Quiet, damn it.” McQuade drew his revolver and fired a shot in the air. It had the desired effect, getting their attention.
“Hell, if we can't settle this without a fight,” said Joel Hanby, “let's just scrap the whole thing and live out of our wagons.”
“You've all heard Joel's suggestion,” McQuade said, “and it makes sense. If we can't reach some agreement, we can leave things as they are until we win our independence from Mexico. Now what's it gonna be?”
“I want somethin' over my head besides wagon canvas,” said Maggie. “I want a cabin, if it's just one room. The rest of you, don't just set there like knots on a log. Speak up for the cabins.”
Maggie was well-liked, and her plea got results. One after another, women raised their hands, favoring the cabins. All eyes were on McQuade, and he spoke.
“I reckon we'll be building cabins,” said McQuade. “Now it's time to take a common sense look at what we aim to build. The single cabin built on two levels, with quarters for four families on each level will get roofs over our heads quickly. Eight families working together will make it easier on us all. Keep in mind this won't be forever. Now is there any one of you opposed to this plan? Raise your hand.”
Not a hand was raised.
“Good,” said McQuade. “Unless somebody can think of a good reason why we ought not, we'll begin building tomorrow. As for cooking arrangements, I don't see why it can't be grouped among four families or eight, depending on what the families in each of the cabins want. You can build one cooking shelter or two, depending on your needs. Now, are there any questions?”
“Yeah,” said Cal Tabor. “Now that we're settlin' down in one place, in what order do you aim for us to stand watch?”
“I believe Mr. Houston is entitled to make that decision,” McQuade replied, “since we are becoming part of his forces.”
“Your men have become trail-hardened, fighting Indians and outlaws,” said Houston, “and I value that experience. Now that we have ammunition, and have eliminated some of Monclova's men, we should be able to reduce the number of sentries and perhaps shorten each man's watch. Men have already been assigned for tonight's watch. Tomorrow, we will meet and work up a new schedule.”
As McQuade's outfit soon learned, Houston's fort never slept. At least, not all at the same time. Besides the men on watch, there were fifty or more who would be awake all night. They talked, gambled, and now that they had coffee, couldn't seem to get enough of it. Several owned
mouth harps, and the lonesome sound of the instruments could be heard all hours of the day and night. There was one question, being of a sensitive nature, that hadn't come up, but McQuade knew that it must. He just didn't expect it so soon, nor did he expect Doctor Puckett to be the one who would raise it. Puckett came to the wagon and Mary wisely made herself scarce, for when the doctor sought McQuade, he usually wanted to talk.
“I need some advice,” said Puckett, “and there's really nobody I can talk to. Frankly, I am ill at ease, talking to you. The cabins you're proposing will be for families, and that, I am assuming, means man and wife. What of the single men and single women? As you well know, the ladies Rufus Hook had intended for his Texas saloon have become attached to some of the teamsters, and however good their intentions, I doubt there is a preacher within five hundred miles.”
McQuade laughed, amused at Puckett's nervousness. “And you're wondering if these teamsters and their women will be allowed to live as families, when these cabins are built.”
“Yes,” said Puckett.
“These are grown men and women, Doc,” McQuade said. “If they choose to live as man and wife, who am I to say they can't? This is frontier Texas, and there's not a shred of law, except God's. Selma shared a wagon with Trent Putnam, and since his death, I'm damn sure Luke Burke hasn't missed a night with her. I can't see that it's any worse, the two of them living in a cabin instead of a wagon. Are you opposed to all this?”
“Not really,” said Puckett, his eyes on his folded hands. “I'm considering becoming a part of it.”
“You?” said McQuade, aghast. “You and ⦔
“Maggie,” Puckett said.
“My God, Doc,” said McQuade, “Ike hasn't been dead even two weeks.”
“I know that,” Puckett replied, “as well as I know that back east, both of us would be tarred and feathered and
escorted out of town. But we're not back east, damn it. Don't you know I'd stand her before a preacher, if I could?”
“I'm not doubting your good intentions, Doc,” said McQuade, “and I don't intend to judge you, any more than I intend to judge the others. I hired on as wagon boss, not as a judge, and certainly not as God. Have you spoken to Maggie about this?”
“No,” Puckett said. “I began considering it, because Maggie is concerned that, since she's a woman, she won't be able to do her part in the building of a cabin. She believes she is about to become a burden, since she has no man to contribute to the building.”
“Oh, for God's sake,” said McQuade, “there's not a man in our outfit who would have a word of complaint, if some of his labor went into putting a roof over Maggie's head. I hope you know that.”
“Of course I know that,” Puckett replied. “Maggie's a proud woman.”
“Maybe prouder than you realize,” said McQuade. “I reckon you'd better down some of that medicinal whiskey and talk this over with her.”
Puckett sighed. “I reckon you're right, but I'll pass on the whiskey. When she's done with me, I may be sick enough.”
He faded into the darkness, his shoulders slumped. Mary appeared almost immediately and McQuade suspected she might have been listening to the strange conversation.
“He seems disturbed about something,” said Mary.
“He is,” McQuade replied.
“Are you going to tell me, or do I have to drag it out of you?”
“No,” said McQuade, “I'm not going to tell you. Damn it, he has problems enough, without becoming the gossip of the camp.”
“You are implying that I am a gossip?”
“I'm not implying anything,” McQuade said. “I'm
dealing strictly with facts. You are a woman, and as such, you talk to other women. It's your nature, like a coyote howling at the moon.”
“So now I'm a coyote,” she snapped.
“A gossipy coyote,” McQuade said.
“I'll ask Maggie. She knows all there is to know about him.”