OFF TO THE WAR
The state of Texas had yet to battle further for her independence.
She had long been a bone of contention between the United States and
Mexico. In 1803, when Louisiana was ceded by France to the United
States, Texas became disputed territory. Thirty years later the twenty
thousand settlers who occupied the land rose up and attempted to found
an independent republic. In 1835 a provisional government was formed
with Samuel Houston as its head. The story of the continuous struggles
with Mexico, the tales of bloodshed, the massacres at the Alamo and
Goliad, when the fierce despairing efforts of valiant men were made
for independence, belong to this period of the history of Texas, and
a thrilling chapter it makes, one which has been the theme of many
a writer. The chapter ends with the acknowledgment of the little
republic by the United States in 1837, and in 1840 by England, France
and Belgium. Feeling herself too weak to withstand continual invasion,
Texas desired the support of a stronger government, and in 1845 was
admitted into the Union in spite of the protests of Mexico, which had
never acknowledged the independence of her small neighbor and which
now declared the United States to be an invader. Intense excitement had
prevailed previous to the annexation of Texas and it was reasonable to
suppose that force must be resorted to before permanent possession of
the new territory could be gained. Foreseeing the trouble which must
ensue because of the determined opposition of the Mexican government,
the United States selected Zachary Taylor as commanding officer of the
forces which, it was now decided, must be stationed on the borders
of Texas in order to meet any aggressive movement on the part of the
Mexicans.
As early as the spring of 1844, in anticipation of future difficulties,
certain regiments were ordered to Texas, remaining there ready for
active service. There were many who believed that such decided measures
on the part of our government would have the effect of chilling the
ardor of the Mexicans and that their boasting was all a pretense, a
bluster which would be stilled as soon as they discovered the presence
of an army, but these optimists were mistaken, for in April, 1846, the
first shot was fired, the Mexicans assumed the offensive and war began.
Rumors of this first fight were brought to the new home of the Rosses
by Neal Jordan. He dashed in one spring morning, swung himself off his
house and demanded to see John.
“You’re mighty peremptory, Mr. Neal Jordan,” said Alison, who was the
first to welcome him. “What’s the matter that you’re in such a hurry?”
He set his long rifle against the wall, slipped his fingers along the
barrel first on one side and then on the other. “Do you see this old
pet?” he asked. “She’s going to speak a word to the Mexicans and I am
going along to tickle her into speech. John won’t want to be left out
of the little conversation that’s to take place, so I thought I’d stop
by and invite him to join in.”
By this time Alison had gained a better understanding of the
peculiarities of speech indulged in by her Texas friends. “Do you mean
there is to be fighting?” she asked.
Neal nodded. “They’ve fired the first shot and there has been a battle.
We boys are going to help out our side.”
“Oh, dear!” Alison shook her head. “Do you suppose it will last long?”
“Can’t tell. It depends upon how soon we lick ’em.”
“You are sure to do that.”
“Sure as shootin’.”
“Will there be fighting up this way?”
“I reckon not, but we can’t tell so early in the game.”
Alison glanced out of the door at the quiet scene before her. She
shuddered as her gaze returned again to the long rifle. “I wish John
didn’t have to go,” she said, “but I know he will. He’s always said he
would. I’ll go find him, but I must say I wish you hadn’t come; for the
first time I wish that of you, Neal Jordan.”
The young man looked at her with a half smile. “I’m glad it’s the first
time,” he said simply, “and I hope it will be the last time you need
say that.”
“What does make you men so eager to fight?” Alison asked, looking back,
as she stood with her hand on the door.
“Nature of the beast, I suppose,” returned Neal coolly. “It gets into
the blood and you can’t get rid of it. It’s masculine, I reckon, though
there’s female women who have it too.”
“Yes, there was Joan of Arc, you know.”
“Yes, I’ve heard of her. They ketched her and burned her. I don’t just
recollect who it was did it, but I don’t think it was Injuns.” Neal
gravely tried to recall his somewhat limited knowledge of the facts.
“No, it was done by the French. They pretended to think she was a
witch.”
“So they did. Well, we did some witch-burning ourselves way back there,
so we in the States can’t call the kettle black. That’s what I think
sometimes when the boys go to pitchin’ into the Injuns.”
“But we were never as cruel as they.”
“No, but we were smart enough, big enough and ugly enough to know
better than to burn women and to cut off people’s ears because they
didn’t go to the same church as we did. I’m an Injun fighter from way
back, but I ain’t so sure that I wouldn’t do as they do, if I wasn’t
any more civilized, and if I was run off my land as they are. We’ve got
to run ’em, of course, but in spite of that I reckon they can claim
that there ain’t justice done every time.”
Alison regarded him thoughtfully. She had heard others talk less
mercifully and yet she knew no man was braver, more ready to rush into
action, to lead a band against the Indians, than this same Neal Jordan.
Ira Korner, too, was noted for his fearlessness, but he had not Neal’s
sense of justice. “Then you wouldn’t fight now if you didn’t believe it
right,” the girl said.
“No,” was the reply. “As it is, we only want our own. We claim a
certain boundary, you know; the Mexicans say we want more than is
coming to us and they are ready to go to war about it. We don’t mean to
have them grab what we have a right to and we are perfectly willing to
fight, too. That’s what it’s all about. I suppose we wouldn’t be quite
so fierce if we didn’t remember the way they did us back in ’36 when
they slaughtered every man at the Alamo, and when they gave no quarter
at Goliad. We are glad of the chance of paying off old scores and are
not above being ready for revenge.”
“I don’t wonder at that,” returned Alison, her eyes kindling. “John has
had that in mind ever since our father fell fighting for Texas. John is
my only brother, but when I think of father I cannot say a word, and I
mean to give him all the encouragement I can.”
Neal looked after her admiringly as she left the room. “Spunky little
kitten,” he said to himself. “I like her spirit. I wonder what
Christine will say.”
He was not long left in doubt as to Christine’s attitude, for she soon
entered the room with the swift directness which was always hers. “You
are going to take John away from us,” she said abruptly.
“I am not going to take him,” was the reply. “I reckon he’ll be willing
to go without being gagged and bound.”
“Must every one be sacrificed?” asked Christine. “Our father gave up
his life in this dreadful land. It has swallowed up Stephen Hayward and
now John must go. Must we give up all that we have left? If John is
killed what will happen to us, to two defenseless girls alone in this
crude country?”
Neal’s face flushed slightly, but he answered quietly, “I’m something
of a believer in fatality, Miss Christine. If fate decrees that John
must go to his death, he will go as a brave man and not as a coward.
He might stay at home and be killed by an Injun or a wildcat and there
would be no special glory in it. The chances are as much in his favor
if he goes, for all I can see, and it’s something to fall in battle, to
die doing one’s duty.”
“I question the duty,” replied Christine. “He brought us here. His
first duty is to stand by us and see that we are taken care of.”
Neal bent his steady eyes upon her. “It’s a pity that you ever thought
of coming to this crude country as you call it. Any one that feels as
you do had better stay at home.”
“I didn’t feel so when we started. I didn’t know what awaited us.
I have lost my faith in Texas.” She sat down and dropped her hands
listlessly in her lap.
Neal regarded her silently for a minute. “You’re not like those
Revolutionary ancestors of yours that you were telling me about the
other day; they sent their husbands and brothers to the war with the
word that they were to fight to the last lick. But then I don’t know as
I blame ye, pore little gal,” he said under his breath. “Allie gone to
fetch John?” he asked after a pause.
“Yes.”
“Don’t begrudge him to us, Miss Christine. John won’t leave you all
alone. I shouldn’t wonder if he could get old Pedro Garcia and his
daughter to come stay on the rancho. There’s the empty cabin, you know.”
“Steve’s cabin?” Christine shook her head in opposition to the
suggestion.
“It ain’t any use to have it stand there and fall to pieces, is it?” he
said. “I wish to heavens Steve was still in it, but if he was here he’d
be going off, too, to this war, and you’d have that trouble to face.
There’s no good looking behind. The best way is to let what’s gone lie
still and keep on a-stepping forward.”
Christine sighed. “I can’t look forward with much joy unless I let
myself believe that Steve will come back.”
“Don’t do any harm to believe it.”
“Do you think there is the slightest hope?”
“Of course there’s a chance, not much of a one, I’ll admit, but Steve
was a good fighter.”
“Was? Can’t you say _is_?”
“I’ll say it till I have to say _was_. We’ve always been good
friends, Steve and I. He’s spoken of you to me,” added Neal a little
hesitatingly.
“I felt sure of that, and it is why I have always felt that I could
talk to you more freely.”
Neal’s happy smile brightened his face. “That’s right. I want you to
feel that you can do that. I know how Steve looked forward to your
coming and what his dreams were. I know that we hadn’t a man in the
country that I’d rather call my friend than Steve Hayward. Now, Miss
Christine, don’t let your feelings interfere with the needs of our
army. We want John and you must let him go. That little sister of yours
has grit; she’ll stand by you.”
“Alison? She is still such a child. She doesn’t know the troubles
that lie in wait for us; she doesn’t understand the bitterness of
disappointment.”
“She’s got the grit to stand it when it comes, and that red-headed Lou
of yours ain’t far behind her. She don’t stand at anything. I’d as lief
have her about as a man.”
“I suppose I do seem very foolish, a silly, weak sort of creature, to
you,” returned Christine with a little show of petulance.
“No, I can’t say that,” returned Neal candidly, “but I think you
let yourself mope too much. You’re the oldest; you owe it to that
little sister of yours to brace up and get through this with all the
courage that’s in you. I’m pretty free-spoken, I know, Miss Christine,
but--it hurts a fellow to see a girl like you spending her life pining
after what can’t be helped.” He drew out his bowie-knife and fell to
examining the keen blade, and then John came in.
“Well, it’s come, has it?” was John’s greeting.
Neal nodded.
“Then I’m off with the rest.”
“But not yet, not just yet,” pleaded Christine.
“To be sure I must see that you girls have some one here to look after
you. Fortunately we’ve nearer neighbors than we had six months ago; the
settlement’s growing, and since the treaty, and the coming in of the
troops, there’s no fear of Injuns, so I reckon you won’t be carried
off. I’ll see if Bud Haley will look after the crops and we’ll have to
get some one to stay on the place to see to the stock.” John’s mind was
working rapidly. He never delayed when there was any important matter
to be settled.
“I think old Pedro Garcia would be as good a man as you could get to
stay on the place,” said Neal. “He knows how to get hold of the best of
the Greasers and is rather particular who comes loafing about, on his
daughter’s account. She’s a pretty little creetur, that Lolita Garcia,
and I don’t wonder he watches her like a hawk. Suppose I go and look up
the old fellow and send him over to you. I’ve no family to keep me and
I thought you and I might start off soldiering together.”
“First-rate idea,” declared John. “I’m with you, Neal. Then I will ride
over to see Bud, and, if you will hunt up Pedro, we can make tracks in
no time.”
Christine offered no further word of protest, but watched the two men
mount and ride off down the road and on till they were lost to sight.
Then the girl felt an arm around her waist. “Isn’t it glorious,” said
Alison, “to be a man and to be able to go to war?”
“Yes, I think it is much more so than to be a woman and to sit at home
and see your dear ones leave, to go perhaps to their death.”
“Don’t hint at such a thing,” returned Alison. “We shall be sure to
win.”
“With no fighting?”
“Of course there’ll be fighting, but John will not be killed.”
“How do you know that?”
“I feel positive of it. At all events we shall see none of the
fighting, for it will not be in our part of the country. Mr. Jordan
says so.”
“You pin your faith on what he says, always, I think.”
“No--yes, I believe I do, for he knows a great deal; he has lived here
so long. Where did they go, Tina?”
“John has gone to Haley’s and Neal to hunt up Pedro.”
“Why Pedro?”
“John thinks he can get him to stay here while he is away.”
“Good! Will he bring his daughter? I’ve always been dying to see her;
they say she is a beauty.”
“Who says so?”
“Oh, everybody; Neal Jordan.”
“Is he everybody?”
“No, but he certainly is somebody in this community. Where shall we put
Pedro, Tina?”
“In Steve’s cabin, I suppose,” sighed Christine.
Alison felt the awkward silence which followed. She had no word of
comfort to offer, and, as time went on, dreaded having the subject of
Stephen’s disappearance come up. She realized that, though six months
had passed, her sister had not forgotten.
Many improvements had been made within the time of their stay on
the rancho. The cabin now had a gallery added; the upper room was
partitioned off into three sleeping apartments, and John talked of
still further increasing the accommodations by building a “man’s
room,” so that theirs would be as commodious as any of the newer
buildings. Six months, too, had increased the number of settlers in the
neighborhood so that now the community was quite a large one, and in
consequence all were safer. The Rosses, to be sure, were on the edge of
the settlement, for John had declared he did not want to be crowded,
and the farm was a large one. To the right of them lay the woodlands,
to the left the prairie, while before them stretched the settlement,
whose houses they could see beyond the clearing, and which gave them a
sense of protection.
In less than an hour John returned, having dispatched his business
with his usual energy. Now he was ready to make preparations for his
departure. “Bud says he’ll do his best for us,” he told the girls.
“Wishes he could go, too, but he says that though Santa Anna may be a
one-legged man it is not to be expected that all one-legged men will
fight. He has done his share of it, has Bud, and nobody will cast it up
to him if he stays home. He has promised to slip up here whenever he
can and you can depend upon him. If anything goes wrong just consult
him about it.”
“And between times I can keep an eye on the place,” said Alison.
John laughed. “I believe that’s just what you will do. I’m not afraid
of anything but losing the horses; all the horse thieves are not
Injuns.”
“They shan’t steal our horses, whoever they are,” declared Alison.
“How are you going to help it?”
For answer Alison picked up her brother’s long rifle, stepped forward,
aimed at a mark on the fence and fired. Then she ran down to examine
the mark. “Within an inch,” she called back.
John followed her to the spot. “Humph! pretty good for a girl. The gun
never made you flinch. Who taught you how to shoot?”
“Mr. Jordan. He said I ought to know, that it might come in handy some
time. You must leave us firearms, John, for Louisa is pretty nearly as
good a shot as I am, and Christine can use a pistol, though she hasn’t
tried the rifle; she’s afraid it will kick. I had a lot of kicks in the
beginning. The first time I tried I went over as if I had shot myself
from the butt end. I was so mad. It wouldn’t have been half so bad if
Neal hadn’t been there. It was his rifle I was using and he came out
just in time to see me; but then he showed me how to use it properly,
so perhaps, after all, it was as well.”
“I’ll leave you each a pistol,” said John, “and there’s my smaller
rifle that can be used in an emergency.”
“I’ll begin to practice with that,” declared Alison, “and I will
protect your horses so well that you will find every one when you come
back. I think Christine would stand to her guns if any one offered to
lay hands on Hero, and Lou hasn’t a bit of fear in her. If Pedro can
come we shall get along nicely, for he is the decentest old Greaser I
know.”
Her hopes in this direction were realized, for Pedro returned with
Neal, and after a long talk which took place down at the little cabin,
it was arranged that he should take charge while John was away,
bringing his young daughter and establishing himself in the deserted
cabin; it was comfortable and sufficiently well furnished for persons
more particular than Pedro Garcia.
The old Mexican arrived, bag and baggage, the next day, his pretty
daughter with her wonderful dark eyes and her wealth of hair being
at once the admiration of Alison, who pounced upon her and bore her
triumphantly to the house to display her to Christine. Late in the
afternoon John and Neal started to join Jack Hays and his Texas
Rangers. Bowie-knives in order, pistols in belts, rifles across knees,
they rode away. Bravely though Alison had given her help, had seen
to every detail of her brother’s outfit and had sent him off with a
smile, as he disappeared from sight she rushed from the house to a
little hiding-place in the chaparral and there concealed herself till
the sun was low in the west and the green trees along the river course
whispered in the evening breeze. No one should behold her in this hour
of trouble. Perchance an inquisitive jack-rabbit might lift his long
ears and peer at her from his cover, or an impertinent prairie dog
might peep from his hole to observe the intruder, but the world of
human things should not witness her in tears.