“When we goin’ to sleep?” the driver demanded. “I’m t’rd.”
“Who ain’t? Ashford, he’s meetin’ somebody down by the water, some gun-runner or whatever. We got to get there, make our deal, get shut of these women, and head back inland and for Mexico.”
She glanced at the driver. She could see the butt of his pistol, but it did no good for he had a thong over the hammer, and from watching him she knew it was a tight fit. Anyway, if they did escape, where could they go? This was open country, salt grass meadow as well as she could tell in the dark, and no place to hide.
She dozed off and slept. It was almost dawn when the stopping of the wagon awakened her. The wind had picked up a little, and she could hear it blowing through leaves that rustled.
“Get some rest,” somebody was saying. “Ain’t got more’n ten mile to go.”
She could hear them taking the teams away. She crawled to the back of the wagon, trying to avoid the sleepers, and peered out. It was almost daybreak. She could see some trees and a lot of willows, and hear the soft rustle and gurgle of water.
If she could just get out now, slip away and run for it! Why, it might be full daylight before they knew she was gone. But where could she go? Where was she? And how could she leave the girls? They needed her, although this other woman, the mother who left her daughter behind, seemed steady and not at all afraid.
The woman spoke now, very low. “I’m not gettin’ on a ship, no matter what.”
“Trust Mac. He’ll come.”
Kate had to trust him. There was nobody else. To escape now, if it were only herself to think of, would be her best chance. The closer they got to the water the harder it would be.
Jesse was feeling better. They had been making believe he was still unconscious, but even so the men had tied his hands and feet.
Now, at this camp, she had to find something, anything. They were closer to the sea, and she might find a piece of a seashell.
Ashford’s voice interrupted her thoughts. “You can all get out of the wagon now, but stay close. I won’t be responsible for my men if one of you wanders off alone.”
Slowly, Kate got down from the wagon, then helped Gretchen.
“Your brother still alive?” Ashford asked.
“He’s not my brother. He’s Gretchen’s brother.”
“You seem to know them well.”
“They were neighbors. I knew the family well.”
“Traven? Is that the name? Did you know a Major Mac Traven?”
“He was no major when I knew him. He was Sergeant Mac Traven of the Texas Rangers.”
“You don’t say? I have heard the Rangers were a hard lot.”
“They had to be. It was wild country, and they fought Comanches, Kiowas, and outlaws ‘most every day.”
Ashford was thoughtful. Mac Traven had been a Texas Ranger, and he knew their reputation from the Mexican War and since. One could not take such men lightly. Still, he was alone or with just one man, and what could two men do against his lot? These were not the men he would have chosen; most of them were renegades and guerillas, but they were first-class fighting men and could handle themselves in wild country.
He tried putting himself in Traven’s place. What would he do? What could he do?
He would try to get help. There might be former Rangers in the area. Ashford walked away from the wagon and looked into the slowly flowing stream. A small log lay across it almost at water level, and some brush and debris had piled up there, some twigs, branches, an old bottle, and what looked like a fence-post. Yet he was not thinking of that. He was trying to plan what he must do.
Remain here now, leaving only just before dark? Or chance going on to the coast at daylight?
Copano Bay was a completely land-locked harbor, except for the opening into Aransas Bay, which was protected from the waves of the Gulf by St. Joseph’s Island. Copano had never amounted to much as a harbor, but some vessels did come there.
One more day and he’d be rid of the women and girls. He thought of that, then hastily turned his thoughts away. After all, he needed arms and he needed money, and people always suffered one way or the other. He had dealt in slaves before this, although the others had always been black. And he had only bought or sold them for his own plantation.
Plantation! He swore under his breath. All gone now, destroyed in the War. His stock had been run off and the house and stables burned. Even the slaves’ quarters were gone.
Just wait! He’d have arms again. He could help Maximilian and come out of that with a good bit of money and arms. Perhaps he might even get some actual help from the Prince. Hadn’t they owned Louisiana at one time? And didn’t La Salle make a sort of claim on Texas?
He might persuade him to help or at least recruit some of the mercenaries who were supporting him. He would need men … of course, southerners would rally to the Cause. None of them had wished to surrender. Oh, here and there was some malcontent or coward, but most of them had wished to fight on had it not been for Lee.
Surrendering! Handing his sword to that upstart Custer, of all people!
Yet in Mexico, where he would be safe, he could recruit an army and start north, retaking the country as he went. He might even sail to Mobile Bay and strike north from there, following the Tennessee River right into the heart of the South! He would ride back into Richmond a conquering hero.
He walked back to the camp, glancing toward Kate’s wagon. Now there was a woman. If he talked to her … she was bright and very practical. She would see the light soon enough, and after all, what choice could she have?
His tent had been raised, and he walked back into it, pulled off his gloves, and threw his hat on the table. He got out his map case and opened it, spreading the maps on the table.
Copano Bay, Lamar Peninsula … the mouth of Copano Creek. He was not exactly sure where the town was. He knew of the place only by reputation.
Now, he leaned over the map – right at the mouth of Copano Creek, if. …
Kate built their own small fire and fixed what food was provided. It was not much.
When they had eaten she went down to the bank of the little stream to wash the dishes. She cleaned them, then straightened up to take the kink out of her back. Looking down stream, she saw the pole that lay across the river and the debris.
She also saw the bottle …
Seven
Morning came with low clouds and only a hint of red in the sky. From the shelter of trees the three riders looked across at Ashford’s camp. A sleepy-looking man was rounding up the small herd of cattle, some fifty head.
Through his glasses Mac could see only one or two men moving about. One was harnessing a team. Another was at the fire.
“Walk your horses until we’re close,” Happy Jack suggested. “See that gully there? We can come up out of there, but don’t get carried away with shootin’ to scare the cattle an’ forget to hold some lead for those fellers.”
“You ready?” Dal asked.
They walked their horses through the brush to the draw, then turned along the draw, which would bring them parallel to the camp and the herd. “That white rock?” Mac asked. “There by that lightning-struck cypress? What say we come out right there? Stampede their cows and ride like Hell for that clump yonder?”
Mac drew his bolstered gun. “Careful you don’t get stampeded yourself,” Jack whispered. “There’s a big bird down here. They call it a whooping crane. If you ain’t ready for it you can get scared out of your britches!”
Mac touched his lips with his tongue. The fog was lifting. The morning would be bright and sunny. It worried him that the camp was now out of sight and a dozen men might be waiting with rifles. The chances were against it, but a man never knew.
Happy Jack pulled up near the white rock. “I’ll go up until I can see over the edge. When I give the word, come a shootin’, but not until we see the cattle.”
He climbed his horse up the sloping bank and drew up, holding an open palm behind him to keep them back. Then he spoke. “Herd’s not more’n fifty yards off. When you top the ridge, give ’em Hell!”