Chapter 20
The Runaway Chase Scrapes Bottom
All new states are invested, more or less, by a class of noisy, second-rate men who are always in favor of rash and extreme measures, but Texas was absolutely overrun by such men.
-Sam Houston
The Texas Swampland-Early April, 1836
Julie leaned back into the cover of the wagon and, checking on Auggey, she inquired, “Everything good back there?”
“Everything is wet! We’re wet, our food is soaked, and I’m cold,” Auggey screamed above the torrent that blew without.
“It’ll let up. This is a spring storm, not a winter norther. Spring storms usually pass in a couple of hours or so,” Julie suggested hopefully.
“This one better,” Auggey shot back, adding, “Or we’re gonna be in trouble, along with a thousand other people. If the rain and river don’t get us, the Mexican Army will!”
The wind was joined in its relentless attack by the rain and, spitting wildly, the pair encroached from every possible direction. Low clouds roiled, in places reaching right down to the ground. The Brazos River was cresting, turbulent and muddy, thereby confirming it was not a good day for a river crossing.
A breathtakingly long line of wagons sat motionless on the bank above the river, drivers hunching forward in a futile effort to minimize the drenching cold from the rain. A single raft inched across the water, bucking and turning as it made the treacherous crossing. Onboard, the hapless horses lurched left and right. Were it not for their harnesses, they would have been tossed overboard by the churning river.
Less than twenty-four hours earlier, the river had been little more than a trickle, easily fordable on foot. Now, at the very moment when lives were at stake, mother nature had chosen to encroach on the war, presenting a barrier that made even Santa Anna’s army seem tame. But the river simply had to be crossed, the Army of Mexico being only a scant few miles distant. Rumors abounded that those taken prisoner had been stripped naked, staked out, and burned alive.
In between the heaviest of rain squalls, men from the long line of wagons gathered in small groups to discuss the latest news. Word had it that General Sam Houston had an army somewhere to the east, but nobody was quite sure where it was. All anyone knew was that anywhere to the west was certain capture, and likely death at the hands of the Mexicans. To the east was the only chance of escape, but no one was sure in what direction they should retreat. And now the rain threatened to make every roadway impassible.
Julie suspected that their homestead had already been burned, and everything of value carted off by bandits. If they were lucky enough to survive and someday return to their home, there would surely be nothing left. They would have to start all over. At this point, moving to Texas looked to have been extremely unfortunate, despite the lure of plentiful land.
Tearing her back to reality, a rover yelled to Julie as he passed the wagon, “Move up folks, the rain is ending, and the river has to be crossed,” Julie could see that there were still at least ten wagons ahead of them, more than an hour’s wait before they could cross. And with each minute that passed, the river seemed to grow deeper.
Gazing down from the bank, she watched as the raft took on another wagon. The going was slow, the wagon was pulled by a sluggish and reticent ox. The raft pulled slowly out into the river and, a huge wave suddenly rolling into the raft, it tilted just enough that the ox lost its balance. Toppling into the water, the hapless ox dragged the entire wagon with it. The driver of the wagon, now launched into the middle of the river, hurtled downriver as he screamed for help.
The ox was drowned and the wagon lost. Fortunately, the driver managed to get to shore unharmed a few hundred yards downstream. Julie couldn’t tell if there had been anyone inside the wagon, but she decided that she would make sure that Auggey was not in the wagon if and when their turn came.
Ahead of them in line, a wagon pulled out of the waiting group. And then another, and another. Folks had suddenly become more terrified of the river than they were of the Mexican Army. Suggesting hopefully that there might be some shallows nearby, another driver yelled that they were going to try further upriver. Julie knew better, she knew how rivers flowed. She was certain there were no shallows, but she kept it to herself. Crossing the Brazos had become a matter of life or death.
As she watched impatiently, the raft was slowly righted, the next wagon now moving forward. The river raft owner informed two more wagons with oxen that they could not risk the crossing in this weather. Julie and Auggey were suddenly third in line, and within a half hour they had forded the river, a whole dollar poorer for the crossing. Such was the penchant for greedy profiteering during times of war, but despite the cost, Julie had absolutely no doubt that it had been money well spent.
As she pulled the wagon over the ridge on the far bank, she glanced back at the poor souls awaiting their turn to cross. It was the apocalypse. She’d read about it, but she never thought she would live to see it.
Peering off in the distance beyond the far shore, she thought she could see a banner – the approach of Santa Anna’s scouts. But amazingly, she and Auggey had made the opposite shore. The Mexican Army would take at least two days to cross the Brazos, so that for now, she and Auggey were safe.
Somewhere to the east was Sam Houston’s army, and Julie knew instinctively that this was their best chance. The rain now seemed to be trailing off, the sun peaking from behind a cloud to the west. Perhaps there was still hope, but they had to find that army.
Texas Bayou Country-Two Days Later
In the end, the Army of Mexico caught up with Julie and Auggey anyway. It happened at night. Mother and son were sleeping within a thicket, but the enemy scouts overheard the horse’s snort. They quickly tied her to a tree and they trussed up Auggey to one of the wagon wheels.
They built a fire, and at first all they did was sit around the fire drinking and arguing. As she spoke very little Spanish, Julie had no idea what they were saying. She doubted that any of them had bathed since they had crossed the border, and whenever one of them came near her she caught a whiff of powerful odor. She supposed woefully that this was only the precursor to something far more revolting.
Eventually, after they were all drunk, they started playing some sort of game. It lasted for more than an hour, but eventually, it seemed to have ended. A soldier came forward towards her and began kicking dirt on her. He then tugged at her skirt, pulling it down around her knees. She kicked him, knocking him to the ground, but he struggled to his feet and began tugging on his pants, pulling them down to his feet.
Auggey screamed, a look of terror and misery on his face that was so powerful, so pained, that she just stopped fighting and gave in, well aware that this could not be avoided. Auggey would survive it, but Julie knew that, should they somehow survive, it would never be quite the same between him and his mother.
Beyond the Thicket
Francisco felt sick all day long. These days it was almost impossible to think of anything good. The image of the man at the Alamo, his life slipping away, just gnawed at him day after day. And the funeral pyres, both at Bexar and La Bahia, the stench, the senseless nature of it all, it was just too much for him to bear. And he felt sick to his stomach every time the image of the Virgin Antonia encroached within his conscience.
Was this what war was like - death, destruction, and inhumanity between different cultures? Where did all of this fit into God’s plan? He was sick from thinking on it, day after day. And here he was, chasing halfway across Texas for no logical reason that he could conceive of.
And then, after nightfall, they had come upon a woman and a boy. He couldn’t tell where they were from, but they were not from Mexico. That seemed to be enough for his comrades in arms.
Francisco’s stomach turned at the thought. Just because there was a war on didn’t mean that normal human behavior should be suspended, especially with women and
children. The soldiers had first tied the pair up, and then sat around the fire getting drunk so as to show off their manliness to one another. Then they started playing some sort of game. Francisco sat over to the side, watching in abject horror. They were gambling, deciding who would get to be the first to go at her. He refused to join in, but every once in a while he would look over at the boy, who by now seemed to be in a trance-like state.
Eventually Captain Mendez came over to Francisco and told him he had to join the game. Francisco responded, “No, sir. I’m just going to watch.”
“Oh, hell, that’s just like a virgin. Men, Francisco here is a virgin! Right, boy?”
“Well, yes, I am, sir,” Francesco replied in embarrassment.
“The time has come to rectify that, private. Now, get over here and join the game!”
Now even more fearful of the alternative, Francisco responded, “Yes, sir.”
Francisco had no idea what the game was even about, but somehow, he was eventually declared the winner. For God’s sake, he had been attempting to lose the entire time. As if he’d read Francisco’s thoughts, Captain Mendez, said, “Alright, boy, you go first. You’re the winner, fair and square. I won’t take no for an answer. I order you to do it, and if you don’t I will strip you naked and make you march that way for the next three days!”
At this threat Francisco grabbed a gourde and swilled down a long drink. He stood up and slowly walked over to the woman. By now she looked terrible, and he could tell that she was pregnant.
Feeling his medallion of San Francisco, he thought to himself, “But this is wrong! It’s only because we are at war. We wouldn’t act this way, or do these horrible things at any other time. We should know better.” Attempting to stall for time, he kicked dirt on her, and then he yanked at her skirt, tugging it downward. “How in God’s name,” he asked himself, “Am I going to get out of this mess?”
And, as if it were a sign from the Virgin Mary, at that very moment troops came riding into camp, led by General Ramirez y Sesma. Francisco had seen General Sesma before. He was an imposing man. The troops admired him greatly for his sense of integrity. This was one of those occasions when his leadership would impart an invaluable lesson.
General Sesma could immediately tell from the disheveled-looking woman tied to the wagon that his troops had been engaged in some unsavory activities. He immediately ordered the officer in charge to take all of the weapons in the camp, and he initiated an inquiry to determine if a crime had been committed.
Each of the troops subsequently denied any wrongdoing. That is, all except one. Francisco could not forget the wolf who had changed San Francisco’s life. He was miserable. He felt dirty and guilty. He didn’t care what the other soldiers did. He had a deep need to be punished for his wrongdoing. The trial was short, and Francisco was convicted. He expected to be shot.
General Sesma consulted with his adjutant. After a few minutes he announced that in his view an example needed to be set, but that the army also needed to move on, that there was a war to be fought. “In my judgment this soldier needs to be punished, but his crime is mitigated by the circumstances of war. Therefore, the sentence that will be passed is that he will have the thumb of his left hand cut off by the woman he has offended. This is in accordance with ancient custom, which dictated that the convicted person had their right hand severed, but in this case we need his service, so that only the thumb on the hand that he does not fire his weapon with will be severed, thereby allowing him to return to service on behalf of Mexico.”
Within the Camp
Having resigned herself to the inevitable, Julie was surprised to see a smartly attired soldier ride into camp. He was accompanied by an entourage of similarly dressed men who, following a series of commands issued by their leader, did his bidding without question. The soldiers were racing about gathering up their possessions. She could not understand what any of them were saying because everything was in Spanish, but she overheard more than one soldier say “El General”.
They held a trial, over which the general presided. Julie couldn’t understand what they were saying, but she could tell what was transpiring. They were trying the soldier who had approached her and kicked dirt on her. She couldn’t figure out why they were trying only him, but it didn’t take long to find out they’d found him guilty. The general then had him tied to the wagon. They tied his left hand to the wagon wheel as if it was being arranged for some special reason.
The general subsequently came over to Julie and said something to her. She didn’t understand what he was saying, but she could tell that he intended her to approach the man. She walked over toward him, the other soldiers silently observing as she did so. The young man stared resolutely, saying nothing at all. She turned and stared in confusion at her captors.
She was furious at all of them, but most of all, she wanted to save her baby. She figured she had to mete out the chosen punishment, whatever it was. She turned to the soldier; noticing for the first time that he was little more than a boy. She struck him across the face as hard she possibly could. The soldiers reacted. Most smiled. A few just smirked, as if she was the guilty one. Unable to guess what else she was supposed to do, she simply stood there.
The general came over and handed her a knife. She gazed down at the weapon now resting within her hand. What the hell was this for? Surely they didn’t expect her to kill him? She peered about at the soldiers. One finally held a finger up and signed like he was slicing his thumb. It suddenly struck her – she was expected to cut off the man’s thumb. She abruptly vomited and, wiping her mouth, she remained motionless. She couldn’t do that!
The young soldier nodded sadly, as if willing her to complete her task, but she dropped the knife. At that moment another soldier cut Auggey’s ropes loose and, suddenly freed, Auggey raced over, picked up the knife, and sliced off the young man’s thumb in one neat motion. The young soldier screamed in anguish.
Grabbing up the severed thumb, Auggey stuffed it into his pocket. He then ran to his mother and hugged her tightly. She was dazed and confused, so much so that she stumbled back to the wagon and collapsed.
The justly punished soldier was hoisted onto a horse, and seconds later the soldiers marched off into the night. In the distance, Julie could hear the anguished cries of the injured soldier slowly fading in the night.
Suddenly aware that the peril had passed, she grabbed Auggey and hugged him fiercely, saying, “Now Auggey, you get over to the water there and get us something to drink. We best be gettin’ out of here before they come back.”
“They ain’t comin’ back, Maw,” he murmured. “They’re after the Texas Army.”
“What army, Auggey? They done whipped ‘em halfway across Texas. I ‘spect the Texas Army is in Louisiana by now.”
“No, maw, they’re right around here somewhere,” Auggey replied excitedly.
“What do you mean, Auggey, what do you know ‘bout that?”
“I heard ‘em talkin’. The Army of Texas is somewhere around close by.”
“How do you know that? You can’t understand no Spanish.”
“Can, too!” he responded proudly.
Dumbfounded at this revelation, she exclaimed, “What? You understand Spanish?”
“Yes’m, I can. I learned a little in school, and I been listenin’ to ‘em. I caught on to it from the start.”
“Well, I’ll be, Auggey. You’re growin’ up before my eyes,” she responded in admiration.
“Maw, we need to lay low just now,” he added. “You need to rest for the sake of the baby.”
“What do you know about any baby, Auggey?”
“Maw, I done seen plenty. Anyone with eyes could see there’s gonna be a baby!”
Embarrassed by her own son’s admission, she whispered, “Auggey, Auggey,” and, sweeping him into her arms yet again, she kissed the top of his head. It was all coming to
her now. Maybe, just maybe, they were going to survive. If they could just stay out of harm’s way, there was still a chance.
Auggey brought her back to reality, exclaiming forcefully, “Maw, we don’t have time for hugging just now. We got to get ourselves hid better. Let’s get everything together and find a good spot to hide, before the fightin’ starts.”
“Yes, Auggey, you’re right,” she responded and, overwhelmed at his patronly attitude, she asked, “But could you do me one favor? Could you get rid of that vile thumb you stuffed in your pocket!”
“Yes, maw,” he replied morosely, “But later. Right now we need to git to it!”