Chapter 12
The Enemy Approaches
I have ordered the fortifications in the town of Bexar to be demolished, and if you should think well of it, I will remove all of the cannon and other munitions of war to Gonzales and Copano, blow up the Alamo and abandon the place.
-Sam Houston to Governor Smith
San Antonio-Late January, 1836
Having by now installed himself within the cantina, Hawk suffered there on most nights. Sometimes Hank went with him, but Hank had tired of Hawk’s constant and excessive inebriation. Hank had realized early on what was ailing Hawk – woman fever. Hank had it, too, but it didn’t make him want to repeatedly drink himself senseless! He’d attempted on several occasions to coax his friend from his stupor, but to no avail.
On several occasions, James Bowie had pitched in with them at the cantina. Misery sure loves company - Bowie was the only man Hank knew who could outdrink Hawk. But whereas Hawk tended sometimes to be quiet in a crowd, Bowie would often grow overbearing, take over with his winning smile, and relate a few tall tales about silver out west, or the city of gold somewhere off to the northwest.
Hank didn’t put much stock in these stories, but since it helped to pass the time, whenever Bowie was about Hank tended to stay close just to see what new merriment might arise. With James Bowie, there was always something exciting about to erupt.
On this occasion it was just Hawk and Hank, Hank contemplating retiring for the evening. It had now been a full month since their return to Bexar, and in that entire time Hank suspected that Hawk had not seen the beautiful Antonia more than a single time. Hawk had gotten roaring drunk one night about a week after their return and, blurting something about going to her house to see her, Hawk had wandered off, obviously too far gone to make any sense. Hank presumed that the Señora had not been receptive to Hawk’s attempt at reconciliation.
Hank had felt sad for Hawk, but there had been little that he felt that he could do at the time. But he hadn’t been able to let the situation go, and finally, another week having passed, he had gone to see the Señora himself.
Finding himself knocking on Antonia’s door, she had somewhat surprisingly ushered him into her house without a single complaint.
“Good evening, Señora,” Hank had begun tentatively, “I apologize for the intrusion. May I have a few words with you?”
“Of course, Señor Hank, please do come in.”
“How is Teresa, Señora? I trust that she has fully recovered?” Hank had queried politely.
“From her illness, yes, she has recovered completely, Señor. However, as to her mental state, I am afraid that the memory of so many dead Indians and horses will remain with her for all eternity.”
“Yes, I understand, Señora. I have a son, Auggey, and I am sure he would react much the same way in similar circumstances,” Hank had responded empathetically.
“Yes, I recall that your family is in Bastrop. Have you heard from them? Are they well and safe, Señor?”
“Naw, naw, I’ve not heard from them since I left Bastrop in early October,” Hank had answered sadly.
“That must be difficult for you, Señor!”
Not knowing exactly how to respond, he had offered, “Yes, yes ma’am, er, Señora, it’s real hard. These are just hard times all around, I reckon.”
“I can understand why you tried to ride off in the middle of that prairie fire, Señor.”
“Well, I appreciate your sayin’ that, Señora, but in hindsight, it was just plain dumb. And that’s all I can say ‘bout that.”
“So, have you patched things up with your Señor Hawk then?”
“Yes, Señora, that I have. He was right, and I was wrong. He beat me senseless, that is beyond a doubt, but in doin’ so, he likely saved my life. I realize that, and I done told him so.” Hank had then added, “That man is real smart, and I got to admit, he’s the best friend I’ve ever had on this here earth. I owe him a lot, I reckon.”
“That is a very profound thing to say, Señor Hank!” she had responded thoughtfully.
“Well, now, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about, Señora. I was thinking that if I could patch things up with Hawk, maybe you could, too.”
“No, Señor, I fear it is beyond that,” she had answered forlornly.
“Listen, Señora, if such as I can patch things up, then I’m sure one so smart as you can, too,” Hank had offered and, showing that rare insight of his, he had commented, “Besides, you have a lot more going for you than I do.”
“And what might that be?”
“Well, you’re better lookin’ than me, for one thing.”
“Hah! A good joke, Señor, but completely beside the point,” she had responded.
“Alright, point taken. But the guy is miserable, just plain miserable. Hell, he’s been drunk ever since we got back from that little jaunt halfway to Bastrop.”
“I am confused, Señor. Is that normal behavior for Señor Halcón?” she had responded with apparent interest.
“No, it ain’t! The man is behaving downright strange, if you ask me.”
“Ah, I think I understand, Señor Hank!” She had seemed to understand something mysterious, but she had carried on, “I have just one question for you, Señor.”
“And what might that be?” Hank had queried.
“Where might I find Hawk?”
“Señora, he is right where he is supposed to be – waiting for you every night in the cantina.”
“Thank you, Señor Hank. That answers my question. Believe me when I say that I am most grateful that you have come here tonight to speak with me. You are indeed a true friend to Señor Halcon. Now, I must bid you goodnight. I look forward to seeing you again soon, Señor.”
And with that, Hank had departed in much improved spirits, having felt that he had done all he could, despite the fact that he had had no idea specifically what it was that he had accomplished.
And now, nearly two weeks later, here he sat with Hawk in the cantina. Nothing had changed - Hawk was still drinking, miserable as a beaver in the desert.
Breaking Hank’s momentary reverie, Hawk inquired, “Want another drink?”
“May as well, if you’re going to be miserable, I may as well drown it out somehow,” Hank answered sullenly. Hawk sauntered off to the bar. He appeared to be at least somewhat sober. “But give him time,” Hank thought to himself.
Suddenly, the door burst open and in walked Antonia. The cantina was brimming with hombres, and Hawk and Hank were right in the middle of the room. As was perhaps intended on her part, her entrance caused a major stir. Hawk saw her at the same moment that Hank did but, feigning disinterest, he turned back toward the bar. Antonia strolled over to Hank and sat down, as if she also was unconcerned. The room went dead silent. It was clear that something was about to happen, and all present strained forward so as not to miss a single moment.
Hawk gathered up the two drinks and sauntered back over to the table, handed Hank his mescal, and sat down silently next to Antonia. Without a single moment’s hesitation, Antonia swept up Hawk’s drink and downed it in a single gulp. She coughed slightly, drew the back of her forearm across her mouth, and threw her head back slightly, all the while eyeing Hawk imperiously.
“Why’d you do that? That was my drink!” Hawk thundered.
“I’m just catching up,” Antonia volunteered haughtily.
“Catching up, with what?” Hawk asked sullenly.
Hank just observed - it was starting to get really interesting.
“With you, you drunken lout!” she spat back at him.
“You couldn’t keep up with me in a cantina if your life depended on it, Señora!” he shot back at her.
“Challenge taken!” she snarled.
Hawk squinted menacingly at her and, locking eyes with her momentarily, he turned towards the bar and shouted, “Bartender! Bartender, bring a bottle!” He then grabbed Hank’s drink and down
ed it surreptitiously.
Glaring intensely at her, Hawk growled, “Call it even.”
“Even? Pshaw! You have a head start, of that I am certain, Señor Halcón!” she rebutted.
Squaring around to face her, he snarled between gritted teeth, “I’ll spot you whatever I done drunk…er, I mean - drank.” The bartender brought the bottle and, slamming it on the table, he retired to relative safety behind the bar.
Eyes still focused on his opponent, Hawk yelled over his shoulder, “Put it on my tab!”
“Hell, no,” Hank interrupted mirthfully, “This is all on me! I consider it the price of admission, and I’m bettin’ it’ll be worth it!”
Ignoring the innuendo, Hawk poured two more drinks, and both he and Antonia downed them immediately.
“Well?” Antonia murmured ominously.
Feigning bravado, Hawk shot back, “Well, what?”
“What have you got to say for yourself?” she replied nonchalantly.
Suddenly confused, he blurted, “What do you mean?”
“You came to my house two weeks ago, three shits on the wind, as you Texians say, and you wanted to tell me something. What was it?”
“Three sheets to the wind, Señora,” he corrected inanely.
“Three shits, three sheets - whatever. Spit it out, Mister Hawk Banks,” she responded threateningly.
Hawk poured another drink for each of them, then announced sardonically, “You first!”
“Alright, I will,” she snarled with attempted levity. Pausing for a moment, she arose and announced to all those present, “Señor Halcón, before God and these men, I stand before you and thank you for saving my life and my daughter’s life. We are very grateful to you. No - that is not enough - we are eternally grateful to you.”
Put off guard by this apparent change of tactics, Hawk’s jaw dropped silently. Frowning to himself, it was clear to one and all that this was not going the way he had anticipated. He had expected some sort of ruckus, but this was not heading in that direction at all. Suddenly regaining his composure, he offered politely, “Aww, hell, you’re welcome, Antonia, now please sit down. You’re drawing a crowd!”
“That is my intention, Señor!” she spat viciously, “Now, please continue!”
Desperately feeling the need to hawk and spit, but doing his best to forestall it indefinitely, Hawk responded, “Me? Continue? I have nothing to say.”
Eyes focused piercingly on her prey, she snarled, “Señor! I beg to disagree. You have something to say to me, of this I am certain!”
“Well, I haven’t,” Hawk mumbled to himself. He was confused, to say the least.
“Let me remind you, Señor, you came to my house to say something to me two weeks ago,” Antonia replied in consternation.
“Oh, that. That was nothing,” he murmured doubtfully.
“It was most assuredly not nothing, Señor, and I shall hear you say it, whatever it is. Just say what is on your mind!” she exclaimed scathingly.
“Alright, Señora Antonia,” he blustered, and he stood up at this, “You owe me an apology!” and by now he was speaking thunderously.
Antonia peered benignly at him, not saying a word. The moments stretched out, seemingly for minutes, and then she said softly, “Señor Halcón, my Señor Halcón if I may, I beg you, before all of these people, please accept my heartfelt apology. I am desperate to regain your good favor. Please, Señor,” and here is what made it so impossible to ignore - the corners of her mouth turned up in that tiny half smile that had such a devastating effect on anyone who was fortunate enough to receive it.
Hawk whispered breathlessly, “Apology accepted.” Nothing moved, silence reigned within in the cantina, fear of missing what might come next silencing all within.
Antonia stared at Hawk. Hawk stared at Antonia. Antonia slowly arose from her seat, and said, “And what else?”
“Couldn’t you just once in your life make things easy, Señora, just once?” Hawk inquired miserably.
“Not this, my Halcón, not something so important as this. Now, if I may be so bold, please, say it!”
Holding out his hand to Antonia, Hawk whispered desperately, “I will say what I have to say to you, but I will say it in private, with you and you alone.”
At this Antonia pursed her lips gracefully and, silently taking his hand within hers, she glided from the room and into the night.