Across the Rio Colorado Read online

  That drew laughter and they all got into the spirit of the thing.

  “McQuade,” said Cal Tabor, “suppose we all decided to turn around and go back to St. Louis. What would you do?”

  “I’d go on to Texas, join Sam Houston’s militia, and eventually claim my land grant,” McQuade said. “Now that we’re on the subject, how many of you aim to turn around and go back?”

  “I got nothin’ to go back to,” said Ike Peyton. “The long shots are the ones that pay off big.”

  “That’s how I see it,” Gunter Warnell said. “I’m goin’ on.”

  One by one, they vowed to go on. Even the Burkes were enthusiastic. When McQuade and Mary retired to their wagon, she spoke.

  “I’ve never been more proud of you than I was tonight. These people were shocked at what they heard, they needed a sense of direction, and you gave it to them. Father would have loved it.”

  “I only told them what I believe,” said McQuade. “Anything worth having is worth fighting for, and once Texas becomes a state, there’s no reason the land grants shouldn’t be honored. It’s a big land, and somebody has to settle it. Why not those of us who fought for it?”

  At first light, McQuade’s wagons took the trail to the southwest, while the returning wagons rolled away to the northeast. Leading his own train, Hedgepith was the first to see the wagons coming. Reining up his team, he stepped down. The rest of his wagons came to a stop. Creeker, Groat, Porto, Dirk, and Nall—the outriders at the front of the train—all rode ahead and joined Hedgepith.

  “Where are you people bound?” Hedgepith demanded.

  “St. Louis,” said Grady Stern. “We hear yours is a supply train. Can you spare us some grub?”

  “No,” Hedgepith said shortly.

  “Take it on to Texas, then,” said Shadley, “and let the Mexicans take it away from you.”

  “What are you talking about?” Hedgepith demanded.

  “You’ll find out when you get there,” said Stern. “We’ll be as generous to you as you been to us.”

  “Hedgepith,” Creeker said, “swap these people some supplies in return for what they can tell us about the Texas Colony and the land grants.”

  “What can you tell us about the Texas Colony and the land grants?” Hedgepith asked suspiciously.

  “Plenty,” said Shadley. “We just come from there.”

  Hedgepith reached a decision. Most of the teamsters had come forward to see what was causing the delay, and it was to them that Hedgepith spoke.

  “Slaughter, Hansard, Weatherly, and Baker, see that these people in the wagons ahead of us are given adequate portions of bacon, beans, and coffee.”

  “You got a wagonload of hams,” said Groat helpfully.

  “Some hams, as well,” Hedgepith said, his hate-filled eyes on the grinning Groat.

  Stern and Shadley were in no hurry, waiting until the teamsters brought the sacks of supplies from their wagons. By then, Creeker and all his men, as well as the teamsters, had gathered to hear what Stern and Shadley had to say. They told the same grim story that McQuade and his party had heard the night before.

  “Why, that’s … that’s impossible,” Hedgepith exploded. “I have papers, deeds …”

  Shadley laughed. “So did we, but Miguel Monclova has fifty men, all armed to the teeth, and they got more comin’. The only chance you got is to throw in with Houston’s militia and ride out the storm. God help you if Monclova finds out you got all these wagonloads of goods, before you reach Houston’s camp.”

  “What else?” Hedgepith pleaded. “What else can you tell me?”

  “Nothin’,” said Stern. “That’s the truth of it, just like we told all them folks in the wagons ahead of you.”

  “You told them?” Hedgepith asked. “What are their plans?”

  “They didn’t tell us, and we didn’t ask,” said Shadley, “but as we was hitchin’ up to come thisaway, they went on toward the Red, and Texas.”

  Creeker, his men, and the teamsters laughed, appreciating the look on Hedgepith’s face. Shadley, Stern, and their companions mounted their wagon boxes and guided their teams around Hedgepith’s wagons. Hedgepith, suddenly aware that he apparently was the butt of a joke, turned on them in a fury.

  “Damn it, you men get back to your wagons. Creeker, you and your men return to your positions behind and ahead of the train.”

  “Five of us are already in position,” said Creeker mildly.

  “You know what I meant,” Hedgepith shouted. “Don’t get smart with me.”

  “Yes, suh,” said Creeker insolently. “I mean no, suh. Sorry, suh.”

  The wagons took the trail again, Hedgepith not bothering to share whatever was on his mind. The most interesting thing Creeker had learned was that McQuade and his party had been told of the situation in Texas, but had continued on. Creeker again rode out well ahead of the wagons, and Hedgepith was so preoccupied, he didn’t even notice. Obviously, he had no intention of telling them how this startling news might affect their own circumstances. As Creeker neared the tag end of McQuade’s train, he circled wide, coming out ahead of the caravan. He wanted to talk to McQuade, to get his thoughts on the grim news from Texas.

  McQuade had chosen a place with water and graze to circle the wagons for the night and had started back when he saw the horseman coming. He reined up, waiting for Creeker to reach him. Creeker wasted no time.

  “We got the word this morning from that bunch that pulled out, leavin’ their grants. Mind you, I ain’t askin’ for Hedgepith. For the sake of the rest of us, I’d like to know how you see it, and what you aim to do.”

  “I don’t care if Hedgepith knows,” said McQuade. “We’re going on to Texas, and we will join Sam Houston’s bunch. These folks that pulled out made the mistake of trying to work their grants, when they should have joined the opposition until the fate of Texas has been resolved. I believe the future of Texas lies with the United States, not Mexico.”

  “I’m glad to hear you say that,” Creeker replied. “I’m speakin’ for twenty-five of us, when I say that we aim to throw in with Houston. Trouble is, I look for Hedgepith to tell us we got to claim our grants or forfeit them. For sure, we can’t swear allegiance to the Mexican government if we join Houston and the opposition.”

  “Swearing allegiance to the Mexican government didn’t help these folks that just pulled out,” McQuade said, “and it wouldn’t help us. While we have no proof these renegades in the company of Miguel Monclova represent the Mexican government, we can’t be sure that they don’t. I believe our only chance is to join Houston’s rebellion and fight for statehood. Somebody’s going to settle Texas, and after we’ve joined the fight for independence, I can’t imagine our grants not being honored.”

  “That’s kind of how I see it,” said Creeker. “Hedgepith has papers entitling all of us to land, and after this fight with Mexico, who’s to stop us from taking the land offered us in the original grants? We might have to kill Hedgepith to get the papers, but I reckon we can do that, if he won’t have it any other way.”

  “He’ll have no more authority than the rest of us,” McQuade said. “I reckon you got no idea what he aims to do, once he gets there?”

  “No,” said Creeker. “We’re goin’ on, but he ain’t said a word about what’s to be done when we arrive. Knowin’ him, I look for him to try and strike some kind of deal with the Mexican government.”

  “Then you’ll have to break with him,” McQuade replied. “I believe Monclova and his bunch will take Hedgepith’s wagons, and all of you will end up fighting for your lives.”

  “That’s about what I expect,” said Creeker. “I’ll talk to the men in Hedgepith’s party, and get back to you. If he insists on us claiming our grants in the face of trouble with the Mexican government, we’ll split with him and join your outfit, if we’re welcome.”

  “You’ll be welcome,” McQuade replied. “If Hedgepith is smart enough to lay off these grants until Houston’s militia takes h
old, we’ll all be in a better position.”

  Creeker and McQuade rode together until they met McQuade’s wagons. Creeker then rode on, returning to his own party. Although Hedgepith hadn’t seen him riding away, he was fully aware of Creeker’s return. When he beckoned, Creeker turned his horse, riding alongside the wagon.

  “Where have you been?” Hedgepith demanded.

  “Riding the trail ahead,” said Creeker.

  “Would your interest in the trail ahead have anything to do with McQuade’s party?”

  “I don’t consider that any of your business,” Creeker said.

  “While you’re working for me, anything you do is my business,” said Hedgepith.

  “The situation in Texas bein’ what it is,” Creeker said, “we got the right to know who you’re goin’ to deal with. Will it be the Mexican government, or Sam Houston’s militia?”

  “You were promised wages and a land grant,” said Hedgepith angrily, “and that in no way entitles you to question my judgment.”

  “Wrong,” Creeker said, his eyes cold, his voice hard. “Every man of us is entitled to question anything you say or do, when there’s a chance we’ll be hung from the same limb as you. Now do you aim to join forces with Sam Houston’s militia, or will you cozy up to Monclova and try to settle on those grants?”

  “Why don’t you just wait until we reach the Rio Colorado and find out?” Hedgepith said, with a humorless smile.

  “I don’t have to wait,” said Creeker. “I already know.”

  Hedgepith said nothing more, and Creeker rode. on ahead of the wagons, catching up to Groat, Porto, Dirk, and Nall. They looked at him questioningly.

  “McQuade’s bunch is goin’ on to Texas,” Creeker said, “but they’re throwin’ in with Houston’s militia. They believe the Mexicans will pluck Hedgepith like a Christmas goose, and then gun us all down like dogs.”

  “By God, they’ve got the straight of it,” said Rucker. “I know damn well Hedgepith is goin’ to deal with them Mexicans. Run the Mexicans out, and we’ll be dealin’ with Texans. Hedgepith won’t be the tall dog in the brass collar no more.”

  “All the more reason to throw in with Houston,” Groat said. “I ain’t never trusted that varmint, Hedgepith, and it’s soundin’ like him and them Mexicans is all of the same stripe.”

  Most of McQuade’s party was aware that Creeker had ridden ahead to meet McQuade, and when he returned, the men stopped to rest their teams. Obviously, they wished to know what news Creeker might have brought regarding Hedgepith’s reaction to the dozen families who had forsaken their grants in Texas. McQuade didn’t disappoint them.

  “I was afraid of that,” Ike Peyton said. “Hedgepith won’t care a damn about anything except gettin’ his hands on them grants.”

  “Yeah,” said Isaac McDaniel. “He’ll waltz in amongst them Mexicans, and we’ll end up in the same briar patch as them folks that give up and pulled out.”

  “No,” McQuade said. “Before Hedgepith has a chance to involve us with the Mexican government, we’ll make contact with Sam Houston’s militia. The twenty-five men in Hedgepith’s party are of the same mind, accordin’ to Creeker. That means they’ll quit Hedgepith cold, and go with us, leavin’ Hedgepith’s wagons without teamsters.”

  “Then you aim for some of us to ride south and talk to Sam Houston before we have to commit ourselves to anybody,” said Will Haymes.

  “That’s what I have in mind,” McQuade said. “While I’m not doubting the word of the families who pulled out, I want to know, firsthand, what lies ahead of us. After we cross the Red, we’ll be maybe two hundred and seventy-five miles from the Rio Colorado. As I see it, we can circle the wagons a hundred miles out, and three or four of us can continue on horseback. We need to know where this Miguel Monclova and his bunch are roosting.”

  “Won’t hurt none if we can get our wagons near Houston’s camp, before that Mexican outfit knows what we’re up to,” said Tobe Rutledge.

  “That’s what I have in mind,” McQuade replied. “We want those grants, but we can’t allow Hedgepith—with Monclova’s help—to force us to accept them under Mexican rule. Not with the possibility of a war with Mexico. Two weeks after we cross the Red, we’ll circle the wagons and ride south to find Sam Houston’s outfit.”

  “If Hedgepith goes ahead,” said Bud Jackman, “he could have Monclova’s bunch after us before we can join Sam Houston’s opposition.”

  “I’ll be talkin’ to Creeker again,” McQuade said. “We’ll stop Hedgepith, if we have to hog-tie him and post a guard.”

  Gid Sutton listened as Taylor reported what he had seen while scouting the progress of the Hedgepith and McQuade parties.

  “Twelve wagons, there was,” Taylor said. “They was headed northeast, back the way them Texas-bound wagons just come. What do you make of that?”

  “How should I know?” Sutton growled. “Maybe Texas wasn’t all it’s cracked up to be. What about McQuade’s bunch, and that supply train follerin’ him?”

  “They’re goin’ on,” said Taylor.

  “That’s all that concerns us,” Sutton replied. “Once they’re across the Red, they’re our meat.”

  Many of the renegades had gathered around, and Doolin, one of the newcomers, said what was on the minds of many of them.

  “We heard plenty of talk about takin’ over this supply train, but we ain’t heard much about how it’s to be divvied up. What’s in it fer me?”

  “We won’t know what’s in it for any of us,” said Sutton, “until we take it and learn what’s there. Until then, you’ll have to take my word that it’ll be worth the risk.”

  “I don’t like takin’ anybody’s word, when there’s a chance of havin’ my ears shot off,” Doolin said. “If I’m goin’ to shoot an’ be shot at, then I got to know it’s worth the risk before I jump in.”

  There were shouts of agreement from some of the others, and Sutton hauled them up short with an angry response.

  “By God, any of you that wants out, get out. Saddle up and ride. I won’t have any of you chowin’ down on my grub or guzzlin’ my coffee an’ whiskey. Just don’t forget there’s law to the north, east, an’ west, an’ not a damn thing to the south but that wagon train.”

  “That law would welcome some of you with a rope,” said Taylor, his eyes on Doolin.

  “You got a point,” said an outlaw who had sided with Doolin. “Reckon I’ll stick.”

  “Me too,” Doolin said sheepishly. “I just want to know I ain’t riskin’ bein’ gunned down on a wild goose chase.”

  “Some of them wagons is loaded with barreled whiskey,” said Sutton. “It’s worth its weight in gold, to the Comanches.”

  “God,” Doolin said, “you’d sell whiskey to the Comanches?”

  “I’d sell my own mother to the Comanches, if the price was right, an’ it was paid in gold,” said Sutton. “It’d hurt my feelings somethin’ fierce, if I thought you disapproved.”

  Doolin said nothing, but he and many of the newcomers eyed Gid Sutton with a new understanding. He would sell them out or double-cross them at the drop of a hat, and he would drop the hat himself.

  Creeker and the twenty-four men who had thrown in with him had reached unanimous agreement. They would desert Hedgepith and join Sam Houston’s militia, even at the risk of forfeiting the promised grants. The teamsters were particularly angered by Hedgepith’s continued silence as to his intentions.

  “Damn him,” said Slaughter, “he’d lead us all right in amongst them Mexican coyotes, without us havin’ a say. I reckon we’d better shanghai this outfit, long before we reach the Rio Colorado.”

  “Yeah,” Weatherly said. “All we got to do is grab Hedgepith and them gamblin’ slicks, Hiram Savage and Snakehead Presnall. Doctor Puckett won’t stand in our way.”

  “We’ll wait a while,” said Creeker. “I aim to ride south with McQuade when he goes to meet with Sam Houston and the militia. If by then, Hedgepith ain’t told us what he aims to d
o, we’ll have to take over. For sure, while we’re looking for Houston’s militia, we can’t risk having Hedgepith warn Miguel Monclova and his bunch. Grants or not, I reckon they’d gun us down, rather than have us join the Texas rebellion.”

  Chance McQuade had again ridden ahead, and he reined up on the north bank of a fast-flowing river. It had to be the Red, and when the wagons reached it, they would be within two hundred and seventy-five miles of their destination. Mentally, McQuade ticked off the days until he and some of the men would ride south, seeking Sam Houston’s militia. Just twelve days, at fifteen miles a day, provided there were no delays. Elated, McQuade rode back to meet the oncoming wagons, to tell them they were about to enter the Republic of Texas …

  CHAPTER 14

  Red River. July 2, 1837.

  “For sure, we ain’t gonna make that deadline Hook set,” said Gunter Warnell, when the wagons had been circled on the north bank of the river.

  “I doubt Hedgepith will try to enforce any of Hook’s rules,” McQuade replied. “None of that will matter, if Texas declares and wins its freedom from Mexico.”

  “The sooner we can make contact with Houston, the better I’ll like it,” said Joel Hanby. “Way it is now, we got nothin’ we can tie to. We’re sure we can’t trust Hedgepith and the Mexican government, and all we know about Sam Houston’s militia is secondhand. I purely don’t like not knowin’ where I stand.”

  “Neither do I,” McQuade said, “but I want to be a little closer before we ride south to find Houston’s militia. I’m figurin’ another twelve days at fifteen miles a day. Then we’ll circle the wagons and go looking for Houston.”

  “Who you aimin’ to take with you?” Bud Jackman asked.

  “One man from our outfit, and maybe Creeker, from Hedgepith’s,” said McQuade.

  “Hedgepith will know we’re up to something,” Cal Tabor said.