Chapter 7
Volunteers and Politicians
A mob can do wonders in a sudden burst of patriotism or passion, but cannot be depended on as soldiers for a campaign.
-William B. Travis
Early November, 1835
General Austin awoke with a start. He had been dreaming. In his dream he was sliding down a hill on his sled back in Missouri, but when he hit a bump he was jolted awake. The jolt was in reality Saul Billingham who, poking his arm repeatedly, yelled invasively, “Colonel! Colonel, wake up!”
Annoyed at being awakened thusly, Austin complained, “Stop poking me, damn it. I’m awake. What is it that requires my attention at this hour, Mr. Billingham?”
“Sir, the men spotted a comet in the sky. Some of them are sayin’ it’s an omen. We figured you ought to know about it.”
“A comet? I’ve never seen one. Why yes, let me take a look. Where is it, Saul?” Austin said, beginning to warm to the thought of such a rare observation.
“Over there, sir,” and he pointed to a group of men peering up at the sky. Sure enough, there it was, brightly lit, well above the ecliptic plane, and not far from Venus.
“That’s Halley’s Comet, I believe,” General Austin said to the men as he sauntered up beside the small group.
Appearing a bit frightened by such a strange site, one of the men asked, “What does it mean, sir?”
“Oh, I wouldn’t worry too much, soldier. This event is ordained by God, most assuredly, but its timing was set in motion a long long time ago. And as such, its appearance does not presage any events related to Texas, I can assure you. Now men, get yourselves a good look and go back to bed.” Austin said, and so saying, he turned on his heel. However, he knew that the comet did indeed portend something important. Because his health was no longer able to sustain him in so demanding a position, the time had come for him to step down as commander of The Volunteer Army of Texas
San Antonio de Bexar-Early November
Francisco de la Garza carefully cleaned his blisters and rewrapped his bindings as best he could. Because he had only a few centavos, he had tried to make the bandages last longer than was prudent, and now he was concerned that they might become infected. Each day he had shoveled more dirt, and carried more water, and dragged more trees, all of these activities contributing to the deterioration of his work-induced wounds.
Surveying his injuries, he thought to himself, “Perhaps I will be the first soldier in this army to die of blisters!” the thought bringing a rare smile to his face. Had someone been watching on this rare occasion, they would have been surprised by his charm, his fundamental mirth, and his natural inner beauty. Suddenly hardening his visage, he thought for a moment on how the saints above had seemingly forsaken him. Immediately regretting his transgression, he grasped his medal absentmindedly and caressed the image of San Francisco.
At that moment Sergeant Gomez came wandering up to him and announced perfunctorily, “Hola, Francisco, some of the local women have come to the mission to provide us refreshments and perhaps more. Please, come and join us.” Francisco consented and, as the group walked along, he noticed the Alamo mission in the background. It was in bad shape. Francisco thought to himself that it was rather like him, perhaps forsaken by God. But because he nevertheless felt a sense of duty to the Virgin Mary, he begged off from the group, saying, “I do not feel well. I would like to pray within the walls of the chapel.”
“Oh, come on, Francisco!” said one of his fellow soldiers.
“Leave him alone,” said another. “He’s a virgin. He’s not ready for a woman yet.”
Francisco paid no attention. This sort of treatment was a daily experience for him. As he entered the chapel he could see the stars above. The roof had disappeared, for what reason he was uncertain. Choosing to pray within the first chamber on the right, he noticed that it was a small room, perhaps formerly used for baptisms. There was a single candle glowing on a small alter. He felt safe and comfortable in such a place. Francisco had been taught well – one must not pray with vanity – for oneself. He remained within for quite some time, contemplating the course of the war.
His mind wandering, he pondered on General Cos. Appearing to be vain and arrogant, he was not to Francisco’s liking. Perhaps these were qualities that were useful to a military commander, but Francisco was sure that they were useless in any other circumstance. He prayed for General Cos to receive guidance – but not for victory – that would have been blasphemy.
He also prayed for his family, especially for his sister Consuela. He wondered how much she had changed in the months since he had been conscripted into the army. He was lonely, but he knew that he shouldn’t pray for companionship.
His mind now strayed badly, to carnal pleasures. As much as he tried to keep these unholy thoughts from his mind, they overcame him at the most unwanted times. Feeling that he had sinned for thinking such thoughts within the walls of God’s house, he felt instinctively for his medallion and was relieved to find it still hanging in its proper place.
At length he crossed himself, departed the small chapel, and wandered back within the main part of the mission. He walked to the far end, halting where the main alter should have been. He looked skyward at the multitude of stars, whereupon he was suddenly struck by the vision of a large shining mass in the sky.
He was terrified. He must have sinned! Surely, it was a sign from God. He had thought impure thoughts within the house of God. He stood transfixed, overpowered by the wonder of the enormous star in the sky. It shone, like a beacon, perhaps like that time before, when Jesus had been born. Perhaps it was not a bad sign after all. But just to be safe, he promised himself that he would push all impure thoughts from his mind. Henceforth, he would practice each and every one of the Ten Commandments each and every day. Having promised, he stumbled from the chapel into the foreboding night.
Texian Army Camp-The Following Day
Colonel Bowie arrived at a gallop. General Austin, who had been awaiting his arrival, exclaimed crossly, “Colonel, I expressly told you to return here upon completion of your reconnoitering. Why did you not follow my orders?”
Needing no further comment to see how the wind blew, Bowie responded defensively, “Sir, I do recall your order. However, I was concerned that the enemy might take the mission before we had time to occupy the spot. When you see the site of the Mission Concepcion, I expect that you will concur with me that speed was of the essence.”
“Colonel, I expect my men to take all opportunities to get the upper hand on the enemy, but I also expect them to follow orders!” General Austin retorted caustically.
At this Bowie blurted in confusion, “Sir, how could I occupy the mission and not disobey your order?”
“Colonel, it has been two days since you set out upon your mission. Surely in that span of time you could have sent a message back to me that you had found a suitable site!”
Appearing downcast at this submission, Bowie replied sheepishly, “Sir, I get your meaning, and I apologize. It will not happen again.”
It was apparent that this was not good enough for Austin, as he exclaimed, “Sir, it better not happen again, or I will have you court-martialed! Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes, sir, you do,” Bowie said submissively and, following the dismissive waive of Austin’s hand, he turned on his heel and stalked off. He was not going to let this little episode destroy his elation, but he felt considerable concern for General Austin. The man’s health was clearly failing, and now he had gone off over nothing at all. Bowie steeled himself for the possibility that he might have to take command of the army at some point.
Texian Army Camp-November
Captain Travis made a fine portrait as he rode into camp leading his company of horse soldiers. He was honored that General Austin had given him such an important assignment. The men under his command had done a fine job of harassing the e
nemy forces at the Battle of Concepcion, despite the fact that General Austin had not been pleased with their intervention. But here Travis sided with Bowie - Austin had not been there, and unfortunately, General Austin had treated him in much the same way that he had Colonel Bowie after the battle.
General Austin had subsequently sent Travis and his men to capture General Cos’ horses, which were reportedly underway to Laredo. But in the event, they found no horses south of San Antonio. On his return to camp in early November, Travis found that troop resignations had become widespread during his absence. In the midst of all this rancor and confusion, not to mention Austin’s treatment of him after Concepcion, Travis determined that it was in his own best interest to resign his commission. However, honor demanded that he remain with the army as a private, and as such he was sent out on the following day with Captain Briscoe, who was now assigned to lead the cavalry.
Two days later Captain Briscoe decided to return to Austin’s camp, but Travis was determined to continue southwards to the Atascosa River searching for the lost horses. The men elected him on the spot to command, and off they went. In an unusual turn of fortune, they found the lost horses, protected by a sparse force of Mexican soldiers. With his usual brashness, Travis led a charge directly into their camp, capturing the entire entourage without so much as firing a single shot.
Travis was thus restored to good graces by General Austin on his return to camp. Such was the state of sheer chaos within The Volunteer Army of Texas throughout the month of November.
Mission Concepcion-Mid-November
Hawk leaned back and propped his feet up, contemplating recent developments, or, in point of fact, the lack thereof. General Austin had shown little interest in going head-to-head with the Army of Mexico. Ever since the so-called battle at Mission Concepcion, the Texians had done little more than lay siege to San Antonio. Some siege – as the Texians didn’t have near enough men to surround the city, the enemy soldiers came and went as they pleased. Even worse, Hawk noticed that each day the defenders constructed more and more breastworks surrounding San Antonio.
Meanwhile, word had it that the politicians had begun anew in San Felipe, this time with the intent to set up a “state government”. All that meant to Hawk was that they were too yellow to declare independence from Mexico. The only good news seemed to be that the weather had begun to oblige. The infernal heat that had infested Texas the previous summer was now slowly filtering away into a glorious autumn with cool nights and pleasant days.
Hawk thought to himself that, the leadership of both the government and the army being apparently incompetent, this mock war could go on indefinitely. Unfortunately, his general dissatisfaction seemed to be shared by increasing numbers within the volunteer army. Men had begun disappearing. As quickly as a new crop arrived, ready to join up, just as many or more left in exasperation.
To make matters worse, word had it that Austin’s entire staff were at odds not only with him, but also with one another. Whatever they voted on, no proposed plan of attack received a majority vote. Hawk kept hoping that someone would get the gumption to take control and discontinue the senseless voting, but no one seemed to be up to the challenge.
In the midst of Hawk’s reverie, Hank came sauntering up to share the campfire, as always entirely unconcerned as to the finer complexities of the war. Hawk was nonetheless pleased at his friend’s arrival, as he knew he could count on some as yet to be determined subject of conversation.
Hawk had thought Hank to be simple at first, but it had gradually dawned on him that Hank had a way of asking every question that came into his mind rather than filtering out the asinine ones. In fact, most of Hank’s questions were good ones, but those few nonsensical ones had misled Hawk at first. He had to admit to himself that Hank was actually smart, much smarter than his horse Achilles would ever be, and as such, he was becoming a real friend.
As if on cue, Hank grumbled to himself, “This is no way to run an army,” and so saying, he took a seat before the fire.
Hoping to get a good conversation rolling, Hawk inquired pleasantly, “What did you say?”
At this Hank seemed to notice Hawk for the first time, as if he’d actually been all alone. Hawk was sitting on a large rock, picking incongruously at his finger nails with a knife the size of a coyote. Having thus far failed to take in the bizarre scene before him, Hank pondered Hawk’s question and repeated matter-of-factly, “I said, this is no way to run an army!”
“Maybe we ought to vote on it,” Hawk replied derisively, but abruptly added, “I’m just kiddin’, I couldn’t agree more. Fact is, I’m tired of the whole damn thing.”
Peering at Hawk, Hank admitted, “I just want to go home!”
“I know you do, Hank. It’s easier for me - I don’t have roots here, like you. But those roots are the very reason that you ought to stay on for a while yet. This war isn’t over yet, no, sir, not by a long shot. We still have to run General Cos back across the Rio Grande.”
“Don’t you think I know that?” Hank grumbled, “But heck, there ain’t nobody with the backbone to lead this army! Austin sure as heck ain’t right for it, I’ll tell you that. And until we get somebody to lead us, I’m gonna sit here day after day pissin’ and moanin’, and you’re gonna busy yourself with drinkin’, whorin’, and pickin’ at your fingernails.”
“Whoring? Whoring!” Hawk exploded. “You show me a whore out here on the prairie, and I’ll be most obliged. Seems like they’re all in Bexar keeping the enemy properly supplied.”
“Aw heck, you know what I mean,” Hank replied disdainfully, “You would be whorin’ if you could!”
Grinning to himself at this inanity, Hawk thought to himself that Hank was somehow correct, but deciding to move on, he replied, “Listen, let’s just give our leaders a bit more time. The weather is exceptionally fine at the moment, but the first good blast of cold weather is more than likely going to drive the whole army into action.”
“Why is that, Hawk?”
“I’ve seen it before, Hank. When men get cold, they can’t sit still. They find it necessary to get on the move so as to take their minds off the cold. Nothing warms a man’s blood like the surge of battle.” Hawk halted, bit on a piece of chewing tobacco and, spitting languidly, he theorized, “You mark my words, my man, this siege will be over by Christmas.”
“Christmas? That’s still more’n six weeks off, Hawk!”
“Well, it’ll be a lot sooner if the weather cooperates,” Hank volunteered and, abruptly changing the subject, he queried, “Wonder what’s for dinner. Let me see here, could it be beans and rice? Or maybe it’s rice and beans!” and at this he chuckled at his own pitiful attempt at humor.
“What’s it to ya, Hawk,” Hank responded impatiently, “I reckon you’re gettin’ fed awful good for doin’ absolutely nothin’ useful at all.”
“Not true, not true at all, sir,” Hawk responded in mock sincerity, “Comes at a fair price. I spend the better part of two hours every day culling over your asinine blubberings about this, that, and God knows what all, slivering out the steak from the bull crap, and then using my finely tuned talents to fashion an intelligent and entertaining explanation fitting precisely to your liking.”
At this Hank stared at Hawk, wondering where he had learned to pontificate in such a mind-numbingly worthless way. But in the end, as he could conjure up nothing whatsoever that was nearly so pointless, he said nothing at all.
Hawk in turn felt that Hank’s lack of a response affirmed his own superiority, thus giving him the unobstructed right to continue his vapid soliloquy, “And what have you to say for yourself, Corporal MacElrae? How’s your day been progressing?”
“Ain’t no corporal, and you know it, Lieutenant Banks.”
Hawk shot back, “Well, pardon me! I fear it must not have been a good day for you. And in the name of Beelzebub, I can’t for the life of me say why. Here we are, camped out on the
very edge of the entire universe, with great heaping hordes of stars just beaming for admiration each and every night. And the only negative we got is an entire enemy army that seems disinclined to even fire off a shot, much less fight a war.”
Scowling menacingly at Hawk, Hank simply maintained his silence.
Seeing Hank was not swayed by his wayward attempt at humor, Hawk now turned serious, instructing, “Now you listen here, Hank MacElrae, I’ve been in charge of your entertainment for long enough. You simply must stop moping over your woman. One must take life as it comes, because I’m here to tell you, this is the only one you got, sir. You will not wake up in the middle of the night and be in her arms. Tomorrow morning, we’ll still be right here on this same plain, staring at that same ornery Alamo, with those same enemy soldiers still lollygagging around right over there having a high old time, just like today, and just like yesterday. Sooner or later something’s going to happen, but till then, your life goes on in seamless repetition, Mr. Hank the Scotsman MacElrae.”
Hank glanced at him and, arising from his perch, he observed disconsolately, “Yeah, I know, you’re right, Hawk. But just because I know it don’t make it come easy for me. I got to worry. It’s in my blood. It ain’t just missin’ Julie - It’s worryin’ for her, and for Auggey, too. Are the cows milked? Is the barn still standin’? It’s a million and one little things. I can’t stop worryin’, even though I so desperately want to.”
Genuinely touched by this pitiful speech, Hawk offered sympathetically, “What you need is a good stiff drink, my man,” and he followed up with, “Hauugggh (spit)! After we’ve had dinner, I’m going to take you over to one of those Tejano spots in Bexar and feed you a healthy dose of medicinal tonics designed for the express purpose of forgetting reality.”
“How you gonna do that, Hawk? How you gonna get through the Mexican lines? I’d sure as heck like to know.”
All Hawk could conjure up was, “Don’t know. I’ll think of something, though.”
“Oh, that reminds me, Colonel Bowie wants to see you,” Hank replied absentmindedly.
“Damn, why the heck didn’t you tell me?”
“Just did,” and by now Hank was stretched out, clearly disengaged from any further constructive conversation. Suddenly, Hank sat up straight and said, “What the heck is that in the sky there?” and he was pointing off to the southwest. “I ain’t never seen nothin’ like that in my entire life. If I didn’t know better, I’d think it was the second comin’ of Christ.”
“I expect that’s Halley’s Comet,” Hawk volunteered benignly. “Folks back east know all about it. It’s arrived right on schedule. Comes by Earth on its way around the Sun once every seventy-five years or so.”
Baffled by such a surreal sight, Hank replied, “Where’s it going to?”
“It’s just going round and round the Sun in a big ellipse, just like the Earth. But unlike the Earth, it’s traveling quite fast, and its orbit is way off center, so it gets close in to the Sun, and then goes a long ways off before coming back by us after seventy-five years.”
“Where do you get this stuff from, Hawk?”
“I told you, I went to Harvard. There was this scientist, Isaac Newton. He explained the orbits of the planets. Using his laws, a fellow named Edmund Halley determined that this comet we’re gazing at has been returning every seventy-five years for as long as anybody can remember. So you see, it’s nothing more than physics. Don’t put any mystical significance to it at all, Hank.”
“Physics, shmysics!” Hank mumbled absently, “I wonder if Julie and Auggey can see it.”
Hawk took that incalculable inanity as his cue to go see what sort of trouble he was in with Colonel Bowie.
Bastrop-That Night
Julie and Auggey saw it, too. Folks in and around Bastrop were all talking about the comet. Some were saying it was a sign of the second coming. Others were sure that it portended victory for the Texas Army. Although Julie considered herself to be a God-fearing devout Christian, she was having a difficult time getting interested in stars in the sky. She had problems enough to deal with right here closer to home. She was pregnant, she was now certain of it. Part of her now wished her last little escapade with Hank had not occurred. Oh, she loved him well enough, but having a baby right now was inconvenient, to say the least.
It seemed to her that the whole of Texas was in an uproar. You’d have thought that sanity had taken a holiday and headed north, because otherwise intelligent people were going and doing strange things. Why, just the other day Sheriff Green had apprehended two boys not much older than Auggey attempting to steal a musket from the general store. When captured, the boys had said that it was not theft – they were just appropriating weapons so that they could join the Army of Texas! Accordingly, she was prompted to ask herself what in the name of God’s creation the country was coming to.
The following morning she stood on the porch far too long, just gazing southwards in the idiotic hope that Hank would come strolling up the path from the river. Surely he’d come soon. Everybody knew about the fight at Mission Concepcion, so the fighting should be over by now. Why, old Sam Horn had come home, and rumors were that others would be following soon. Revolutions notwithstanding, Hank should know that he was needed more at home than any place else.
Julie didn’t normally worry too much about Indians, but with Hank off soldiering, and rumors lately of several attacks on settlers, she had become concerned. And now she was going to have one more mouth to feed, one more thing to be concerned about. She now began to fear that if Hank didn’t get home soon, she was going to have to go after him and bring him back herself.
Mission Concepcion-That Night
Colonel Bowie was ensconced in one of the small rooms within the mission walls. As he awaited the arrival of the Ranger, he commented to his companion in Spanish, “That guy is a bona fide frontiersman, Juan. You’ll like him.”
Noticing a Tejano as he entered the room, Hawk blurted, “Banks reporting, sir. I am told you wanted to see me.”
“That’s right, Hawk. This here is Juan Seguin. Juan, this is Lieutenant Banks.”
“Yes, I know you,” Seguin responded, “You captured the cannon at Concepcion.”
“And I know you, Señor Seguin,” Hawk replied, “If I am not mistaken, you are from these parts.”
“You are correct, Señor Halcón,” Seguin put in and, employing just the right touch of formality, he inquired, “May I call you Señor Halcón?”
Hawk grinned and, somehow flattered at the use of the Spanish word for hawk, he rejoined, “Señor Seguin, I would be honored to be addressed in such a way by one so highly regarded as you.”
Seeing that things were starting off rather well between the two, Bowie now took this opportunity to interject his own remark, “Ah, it’s just as I thought it would be. The two of you will make a perfect pair for this assignment,” and by this point all three were by smiling in joint conviviality.
Hawk took the next step, inquiring officiously, “And what assignment would that be, sir?”
“Well, sir, General Austin wants us to find out what the Mexicans are doing down there in Bexar. We can see they’re building breastworks around the city, but we have no idea what their military strategy is. So General Austin has asked me to look into the matter, as I am an erstwhile inhabitant of San Antonio,” and at this Bowie glanced piercingly at Hawk. He was rewarded immediately.
Stroking his chin thoughtfully, Hawk suggested, “Ah, I see. You want Seguin and me to infiltrate the enemy lines and reconnoiter down in the city. Am I right, sir?”
Bowie replied, “You have guessed my meaning, sir, and well done, if I may say so. Juan here speaks English poorly, and it may be needed within the city. Thus, he needs someone who speaks both English and Spanish to accompany him. While I myself would be more than willing to take on that responsibility, I am much too well known in the city for such a clandestine unde
rtaking. The enemy would be onto me faster than flies on horse dung, no similarity intended of course,” and here Bowie paused and chuckled at his own poor attempt at self-debasement. “However, you, Mr. Banks, make a near perfect companion to our head spy Juan, here. He knows the city, and you know English. The only way we could improve would be if you were in fact a bona fide Tejano, sir.”
“I believe I can help with that,” Juan interjected. “I will supply Hawk with a serape, a sombrero, and some Mexican style moccasins. That should do it.”
“I’ll make myself up a horse hair Mexican style mustache, and we’ll be two peasants out for a stroll, Colonel,” Hawk volunteered.
Bowie now posited, “Excellent, I think that I need not tell you what it is that we are in need of ascertaining, gentlemen?” at which both men nodded in awareness. “All right then, one other thing – DON’T GET CAUGHT!” thereby inducing good-natured chuckles all around. An hour later the pair was on their way into Bexar.
Hawk would never have considered entering the city on his own but, with Juan Seguin as his companion, he found it surprisingly easy. Once through the enemy lines, he asked, “Where are we headed to, Juan?”
“I have many Tejano friends in the city, Señor Halcón. We will make some inquiries. We will be very discrete. We need to find just the right persons to supply us with information. And Señor Halcón, please be careful not to speak to any soldiers. You do not speak Tejano Spanish. You speak Castillion Spanish. Any soldier would immediately realize that you are not a local peasant.”
Delighted at this unexpected turn of events, Hawk replied contentedly, “Right. Got it.” Here was not only something to do to take away from the boredom that had set in, but he now had access to the city. If he was lucky, he might even have some real fun with it.
San Antonio de Bexar-That Night
Francisco regarded the woman wistfully. Armed with calypsos, she danced languorously before the crowd. As the guitarist played a soft melody, she began to sing the accompanying melody, and as she did so she swung her hips sensuously to and fro. She was easily the most beautiful woman he had ever seen in his entire life, and although she was perhaps twice his age, it mattered not in the slightest to him. Summoning his courage, he asked his friend Hernando, “Who is she?”
“She is nobody, just a local mujer,” Hernando replied disdainfully.
At this Francisco murmured to himself, “She’s not nobody to me. To me she is like a goddess,” and in so saying he admitted his dangerous infatuation with one clearly beyond his reach.
Having overheard him, Hernando responded animatedly, “You’re telling me! All the men are talking about her. They’re saying they’ve never seen a mujer so beautiful. Half the army wants to marry her, me included!”
Francisco grimaced at this and, putting forward in his own thought on the matter, he croaked, “Right now I’d settle for less. I’d settle for one night with her.”
“Ha!” Hernando replied. “You may as well forget that. She gives herself to no one. At least that is the rumor we all hear. So just content yourself with watching, and let yourself imagine, imagine beyond your wildest dreams…”
Outside the Cantina
Ordered to wait outside, Hawk was unaware of the proceedings within as Juan Seguin stepped soundlessly within. Seguin reappeared momentarily and motioned Hawk to follow. As the two set off, Seguin informed him, “It is a good thing you did not enter with me. There were soldiers in the cantina. They were attending a performance by the woman that we have been searching for. Her name is Antonia. Apparently, she has caused quite a stir among the soldiers here in Bexar. I have made contact with her, and she will meet us later at the house of the Veramendi.”
Hawk and Juan spent the next hour carefully making their way to the Alamo, where they managed to obtain a good impression of the fortifications the Mexican Army had constructed along the walls of the mission.
Afterwards, they made their way to the house of the Veramendi. As they approached it, Seguin proffered, “This is the house of the family that Colonel Bowie was married into. We cannot go in. Since it is one of the more affluent houses in the city, the army has occupied it. But I was sure that Antonia would know where we could go from here. Ah, there she is, in the doorway of that house there. Come, Señor Halcón, follow me.”
The pair approached the woman, and as they did so, she turned, strolled away without saying a word, and quickly turned again along a side street. Further on, she turned yet again and entered a doorway. As she did so she motioned to the two to follow her. Once inside, she led them under an arched portal and into a small courtyard. They passed through and eventually arrived within a tiny windowless room. She quickly lit a candle and turned to face them, her hands planted on the table at her back.
Hawk was in shock, so much so that he let out an audible gasp. She was without a shadow of a doubt the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on in his entire life. She either did not hear or she chose to ignore him, because she abruptly caught Seguin’s eye and exclaimed bluntly, “What do you want, Señor Seguin?”
Daunted by her directness, Hawk found himself speechless, but Seguin was somehow unfazed by her. He apparently knew her, for he was equally stern with her, expounding, “Hola, Señora Perez. We meet again. It has been what, two years since last we met?”
“Cut the small talk, Señor Seguin,” she persisted, “What are you here for?”
Seguin turned to Hawk and whispered, “She will soften, Señor Halcón, you will see. But do not attempt to fool her by speaking in English, for she speaks it quite well.”
Obviously irritated that Seguin had spoken as if she were an inanimate object, she inquired vehemently, “And who is this Señor Halcón? Is he one of your fellow rebels?”
Turning back to the woman, Seguin announced politely, “Permit me to introduce Señor Hawk Banks, lieutenant in the Volunteer Army of Texas.”
“Ah,” was all she said, but she nonetheless took in Hawk from head to foot. “Very nice, a halcón indeed, Señor Seguin. These are tough times, and it seems that you have brought as our savior a bird of prey. I am suddenly all eyes and ears, Señor,” and this last she said with palpable disdain.
“Hawk, this is Señora Antonia Perez. Until two years ago, the wife of Señor Pablo Corton de Valencia, a trusted business associate of the Veramendi family. Unfortunately, he also died in the cholera epidemic. It seems that Antonia has fallen on hard times, so much so that she is now using the name Perez, which I believe is her maiden name.”
At this Antonia’s eyes flashed and she responded proudly, “I must make do, Señor. These are difficult times in Bexar. I do what I must in order to survive.”
“Ah, yes, just so,” responded Seguin. “And that is precisely why we have come to see you, Antonia. We have a very delicate matter that we wish to discuss with you. We come by official order of Colonel James Bowie, whose now deceased wife was a close friend of yours.”
Although Antonia did not respond, it was obvious that she understood where this was leading. Accordingly, Seguin continued, “We are in need of some information, Señora.”
“Ha!” she replied disdainfully. “What a poor excuse for a lie, Señor Seguin!”
“I do not lie, Señora.” Seguin responded politely.
“You want me to spy for you! Why don’t you just come out and say it?”
“Call it what you will, Señora. That is of no consequence to me. We want the same thing that you do, Señora, of that I am certain.”
“And what is that, may I ask?”
“We want the Army of Mexico out of Bexar!” Seguin replied.
“Mexicans, Texians, who cares. They’re all a bunch of thieves to me. They all want to steal Texas for themselves if you ask me. Give me a Tejano any day!” and it was apparent that she was not about to calm down.
Deciding to try a different approach, Hawk inquired, “Señora, if you don’t mind me aski
ng, what would make you happy?”
For some reason this seemed to strike a chord with her. Eyeing him diffidently, she turned to a small cabinet and drew out a bottle of mescal and three glasses. She poured a shot into each and slid into a chair. “Please, sit, hombres. We have much to discuss.”
Hawk downed his drink before Seguin had even taken his seat and, grabbing the bottle, he served himself up a second drink.
Observing his fervor, Antonia clutched his arm and suggested, “Slowly, Señor Halcón, like a hawk circling his prey. We shall get to the kill in due course.”
His arm burning where she had touched him, he so wanted to down his drink, but he was stopped in his tracks by her cold demeanor. All things considered, it was all he could do to breathe evenly.
Unperturbed by Antonia’s effect on Hawk, Seguin observed the developing scene coolly. He had seen this same scenario played out many times with Antonia. It was, of course, the main reason he had sought her out – he knew her power over men.
Hawk, regaining his composure, now caught her eye, saying, “I know what you’re doing to me, Señora. Stop fixing me with that look. I admit freely that I am no more immune to your feminine wiles than any other man, but be that as it may, we are here on a matter of some urgency, and we are in desperate need of your help,” and, seeing that this last remark had made some small impact, he murmured pointedly, “And we are willing to pay you for information.”
She hit him so fast he didn’t even see it coming and, eyes flashing violently, she shrieked, “So you want me to be your whore!”
Hawk staggered backwards and, nearly falling to the floor, he quickly rose up and exclaimed in denial, “No! We are not here for that!”
“You want information. How do you expect me to get it? I ask you, answer me!” and she was speaking much too loudly by now. “That’s right – you want me to get in bed with the entire Army of Mexico! Does that not make me a whore?”
At this Hawk was speechless, Seguin simply nonplussed.
Reaching across the table, she touched his hand and whispered, “Señor Halcón, had I been offended by your remark, you would not now be standing. But family pride demanded that I respond appropriately. Still, I pulled my punch, as you say, because it is true. I accept your offer - I will be your whore.”
Hawk remained absolutely frozen in place, the sensation of her hand coursing through his every fiber. Still, he managed to utter, “Haauugggh (spit),” as if right on cue.
Seguin laughed and, the tension cut, the air seemed to return to the room. All three parties suddenly relaxed, and for the first time, Antonia smiled. Relieved, Hawk returned her smile, somehow even more taken with her enigmatic appeal.
Returning at length to the subject at hand, Seguin announced, “And now, Señora, as to terms…”
Allowing neither a chance to make the first offer, she demanded, “The terms are as follows, and these are not negotiable. You will supply me with ten dollars tonight. I will expect ten dollars a week for as long as I continue in your employ, and I will expect a bonus whenever I give you information. The magnitude of the bonus will be proportional to the importance of the information. Are we agreed?”
“Yes,” Seguin replied and, the negotiations apparently concluded, he stood, as if to go.
“That is not all, Señor Seguin,” she uttered bluntly, “Sit back down!”.
Retaking his seat, Seguin inquired expectantly, “Si, Señora, what else?”
“I have a child. You must remember her, Señor Seguin?”
“Ah, yes, I do remember her. Yes, such a beautiful little señorita. She must be what – six years old now?”
“You are correct, Señor. Her name is Teresa. She is at this moment sleeping in the next room. Here is my last term, and it is also not negotiable, Señor. You will personally guarantee to me that Teresa will survive this war, and that she will grow up in Tejas!”
“Señora, you ask too much,” Seguin responded, bewildered by this last disclosure.
Peering at Antonia, Hawk interjected, “I promise!” He had no idea why he said it - he knew only that he had no choice. For the life of him, he couldn’t tell whether he had just gotten the upper hand, or whether in fact she had. In either case, it seemed of little consequence.
Seguin stared in wonder at the two of them, their eyes locked in apparent combat. There was Antonia - proud and defiant, arrogantly showing her pleasure at having won on her terms; and Hawk – equally certain that he had negotiated exactly what he intended to deliver.
After a further few moments, the tension broken, Antonia extended her hand in confirmation of the contract. Hawk accepted it, and the two shook, signaling their mutual agreement to terms. Hawk now said in apparent finality, “Spare me your threats, Señora. I have no doubt what you would do to me if I failed to satisfy my part of the bargain.”
Antonia presented him with an entirely infectious smile, offering pleasantly, “On the contrary, proud Señor Halcón, I had no doubts whatsoever. Now let us drink to our pact - we three, who are now irrevocably linked in crime.” All three poured down their shots, and Antonia immediately poured yet another round.
Rising to go, Seguin instructed, “You can bring us information through the lines whenever you get it, Antonia. They will not stop a woman.”
“On the contrary, Señor. Señor Halcón will come to me twice a week at the cantina, on Mondays and Thursday nights. It should be obvious - they would suspect me if I were to pass through the lines repeatedly.”
Hawk said, “Alright, I agree to that,” and, as the two rose to go, he murmured, “I will see you Monday next, Señora.”
“Adios, Señor Halcón, may your wings carry you safely through the lines,” she responded.