F
or a week, McQuade did his share, felling trees for the proposed cabins. Creeker and Doctor Puckett worked beside him. Sam Houston had laid out a schedule for sentry duty, and with more than three hundred men, each of them drew it once a week. There had been no sign of Monclova's forces since the arrival of the emigrants until one afternoon Creeker and McQuade had paused to catch their wind and wipe the sweat from their eyes.
“Somebody's watchin' us,” Creeker said. “The sun reflected off somethin' over yonder to the east. They're usin' a spy glass, I reckon.”
Without seeming to, the two men watched for the telltale flash again, and it was a few minutes before it came. This time, McQuade saw it.
“Well,” said McQuade, “they know we're here, and that we're aimin' to stay. I reckon the next play is theirs. We'd better tell Houston about this.”
Upon returning to the fort, McQuade and Creeker sought out Houston before supper, telling him what they had seen and what they suspected.
“No doubt they've already seen the many wagons near the fort,” Houston said, “and now they're watching you men at work, getting some idea as to our strength. Even
with their reinforcements, we still outnumber them three to one.”
“There's a possibility they may send a rider to Matamoros, with word to Santa Anna,” said McQuade. “More men could hurt our chances of taking the ship's cargo. I reckon if they can watch our camp, we can watch theirs.”
“I have two good men I can send to keep them under surveillance,” Houston replied.
“I believe we should find their camp and stake it out tonight,” said McQuade. “We've got them worried, and I can't believe they won't make some move to warn Santa Anna of our increased strength. I'd like to ride with those men you have in mind, so I'll know just where their camp is, in relation to our own.”
“I'd like to ride along with you,” Creeker said.
“See me after supper,” said Houston, “and be ready to ride.”
McQuade and Creeker had told nobody except Houston of their suspicions, and it came as a surprise to Mary when McQuade prepared to ride out.
“I can understand Mr. Houston wanting Monclova's movements watched,” said Mary, “but if he's sending men, why are you going?”
“Because I want to know where the camp is,” McQuade said. “I'll return tonight.”
McQuade and Creeker still hadn't met all of Houston's men, and Houston handled the introductions.
Mr. Creeker, Mr. McQuade, this is Elgin Summerfield and Shanghai McLean. They're from Mississippi.”
“Southern
Mississippi,” said Summerfield, offering his hand.
Houston laughed as the four men shook hands. They mounted their horses, and with Summerfield and McLean taking the lead, they rode downriver. Sundown had painted the western horizon with a glorious array of pink, rose, and red. Darkness was only a few minutes away. Summerfield and McLean had nothing to say until they
all stopped to rest their horses, and it was McLean who spoke.
“I reckon old Sam's thanked you proper for throwin' in with us, but I'm addin' my own thanks to his. You brung us grub, powder, an' shot, so's we can stay here and fight.”
“That goes fer me, as well,” said Summerfield. “While Shanghai and me wants Texas cut loose from Mexico, we got a bigger stake. Them Mex varmints burnt us out, killin' our young and our womenfolk.”
“They ain't hurt us quite that bad,” Creeker said, “but we just got here. I promise you, we'll do our damndest to see they get what's coming to 'em.”
“I think we'll have some painful surprises in store for them,” said McQuade. “For that reason, it's important that we know when this bunch of jaybirds make a move.”
“You can count on me and Shanghai,” Summerfield said. “All we ask is that when the deal goes down, we're in the midst of the fight. We owe them varmints, an' we pay our debts.”
After resting their horses, they rode on, and when Summerfield and McLean reined up, it was McLean who spoke.
“They're likely camped along the river. We'd best ride north a ways, else we're likely to run right into âem. With the wind at our backs, they'll hear us comin' a mile off. But we'll turn it around to our advantage. We'll go on well beyond their camp, and when we ride back, we'll be downwind. Another ten mile, Elgin?”
“I'd double that,” said Summerfield. “After the thrashin' we give 'em, I doubt they'll make camp any closer.”
Eventually they swung back toward the river, and riding into the wind, they smelled wood smoke. Of one mind, they reined up and dismounted. While they were downwind, one of their own mounts might nicker and give them away. They crept along, stooping to avoid low-hanging
branches, tearing free of briars that reached out to claw at them. Their supper fires had burned down almost to coals, but there was a crackle as a piece of wood shifted, and the night wind caught up a flurry of sparks. There was occasional laughter, and men spoke in soft Spanish, not loud enough to be overheard.
“We got 'em pegged,” said Summerfield. “Let's git back to the hosses.”
Nothing more was said until they reached their horses, and then it was McQuade who spoke.
“We'll be counting on you gents. When are you to be relieved?”
“Sam said in a week,” McLean replied. “It's almighty dull, settin' on your hunkers an' waitin' fer somethin' to happen.”
“You may not have to wait that long,” said McQuade. “Some of this bunch was looking at us through a spy glass today. They're up to something.”
“Good,” Summerfield said. “I'm ready to kill these varmints, so Santa Anna can run in a new bunch.”
McQuade and Creeker rode back upriver, and only when they were miles beyond the Monclova camp did Creeker speak.
“If the rest of Houston's bunch is as dedicated as them two, I got no doubts about the success of this fight for independence.”
“I don't see how Monclova can sneak anything past us,” said McQuade. “I'm of the same mind as Summerfield and McLean. I'd like to get into this fight and be done with it.”
“On the other hand,” Creeker replied, “if they'll hold off a little longer, we'll have our cabins done. When the fightin' starts, we may not have time for anything else.”
Reaching the fort, they reported their success to Houston.
“Most gratifying,” said Houston. “Their spying on us leads me to believe they're up to something. I am wondering if perhaps those reinforcements didn't bring Monclova
orders from Santa Anna, which could account for this activity.”
“Maybe,” McQuade said, “but they have to know we outnumber them, and for that reason, I can't believe they're planning to attack.”
“Nor can I,” said Houston. “I feel better knowing we're in a position to be aware of any movement of men or supplies affecting Monclova.”
When McQuade reached the wagon, Mary wasn't there. He removed his hat, tugged off his boots, and let down the wagon's tailgate. He sat there, alone with his thoughts, and when Mary suddenly appeared, he dropped his hand to the butt of his revolver.
“I need to talk to you,” she said.
“Talk,” he replied.
“You won't want to hear this,” said Mary, “but ⦔
“You're right,” McQuade interrupted, “I don't want to hear it.”
“We have a problem,” she continued, undaunted, “because some of these people will end up in a building with certain other people they don't like.”
“And you're expecting me to have an answer to that? Hell, my name's McQuade, not Solomon.”
“Well,” she said, “something must be done. We might get around that, if it wasn't for the common cook fires.”
“Far as I'm concerned,” said McQuade, “those who don't fit into the cabins will have to make other arrangements. I hired on as wagon boss from St. Louis to the Rio Colorado and we're here. Damn it, am I supposed to wet-nurse these people for the rest of their lives?”
“You don't have to shout at me,” Mary said. “I'm only trying to help.”
“I believe in helping when and where I can,” said McQuade, as patiently as he could, “but I can't force people to accept other people, and neither can you. These people all must be responsible for themselves. There's evidence Monclova's bunch is up to something, and this is no time for us to bicker among ourselves. I'm sorry I
ever said anything in favor of these damn cabins, and I'd favor scrapping them, before this goes any farther.”
She had never seen him in such a mood, and she left him there. He put on his hat, stomped into his boots, and went looking for Doctor Puckett. Not that Puckett would have any answers, but he felt the need to talk to somebody who didn't expect him to walk on water. Surprisingly, Maggie was alone at her wagon.
“Where's Doc?” McQuade asked.
“Involved in talk about those blessed cabins,” said Maggie. “I swear, I believe we'd all been better off, just to go on livin' out of our wagons.”
“I feel the same way,” McQuade said. “Mary and me are having hard words.”
“Don't let it come to that,” said Maggie. “I've already told Horace ⦠Doctor Puckett ⦠that I'll withdraw my request for a cabin, if that's what it takes to settle everybody down.”
“I reckon I'll track him down and see what's going on,” McQuade said gloomily.
McQuade found Puckett, Creeker, Gunter Warnell, Eli Bibb, Cal Tabor, Will Haymes, and a host of others in the fort, seated at the crude tables. Obviously the women had been barred from the discussion, for none were present. McQuade took a seat at the very end of one of the tables, listening.
“My wife's hell-bent on havin' a cabin,” said Will Haymes.
“Mine too,” Joel Hanby said.
“Ellen's of the same mind,” said Gunter Warnell. “How do you feel, Doc?”
“I feel like this whole thing is a bad idea,” Puckett said, “because it's divided us, and I fear we're about to lose sight of our reason for being here. Maggie says she's withdrawing her bid for a cabin, that she'll just go on living out of her wagon.”
Tobe Rutledge laughed. “Easy for her to say, but I hear it ain't goin' to be just her that's scrunched up in the wagon.”
“If that's what she wants, we'll manage,” said Puckett, his eyes on Tobe.
The laughter Tobe had prompted died away to an uneasy titter, and Creeker took over the conversation.
“I don't even have a wagon,” Creeker said, “but if we're up against something that's bigger than all of us, then let's put it down and leave it be. If we're to have homes here in Texas, then let's keep our eyes on those we'll build on our land grants, and we can't look toward them until we've won this fight for independence.”
“I'll be sharing Maggie's wagon, Creeker,” said Puckett. “You and Lora are welcome to mine. I'm sure we can find room here in the fort for the extra weapons, black powder, and such that we took from the Sutton gang.”
“You been cuttin' logs for a cabin, McQuade,” Isaac McDaniel said. “How do you feel about all this?”
“Cut into shorter lengths and split, those logs will make firewood,” McQuade replied, “and so will yours.” He got up and departed, before further questions could be directed at him. Before he reached his and Mary's wagon, he could hear voices, and some of them were angry. Determined not to be intimidated, he went on, and when he reached the wagon he found most of the wives of the men who were arguing in the fort. Maggie was there, and she was being drowned out by most of the other women talking at the same time. The moon was bright, and when they saw McQuade, they quickly became silent. It was Maggie who finally spoke.
“I've tried to talk sense to âem, McQuade. Why don't you tell 'em where you stand?”
“I'll tell all of you the same thing I just told your men in the fort,” said McQuade. “I have been cutting logs along with them, and I don't aim for my work to be for nothing. I reckon I'll just convert all my logs to firewood.”
Maggie laughed, but none of the others did. They turned away, leaving Maggie, Mary, and McQuade. It was Mary who spoke.
“You're right again, you and Maggie. We've lost that unselfishness that served us so well all the way from St. Louis, and I just want to cry.”
“Won't help,” said Maggie. “Remember that piece in the bible where the Apostle Peter, walkin' on the water, went to meet Jesus? When he took his eyes off Jesus, he began to sink. Well, we took our eyes off our reason for bein' here, and we're all sinkin' into the waters of selfishness and unneighborly conduct.”