"What Jim says goes for me, too. And this: I'd change that part about all
Americans, et cetera. You don't want anybody to think we think we're better
than the Mexicans. After all, Americans are a minority in the world. Why
not make it 'all men who love security?' That'd have world-wide appeal--"
"Oh, Crockett," Travis hissed.
Crockett stood up. "Don't use that tone of voice to me, Billy Travis! That
piece of paper you got don't make you no better'n us. I ran for Congress
twice, and won. I know what the people want--"
"What the people want doesn't mean a damn right now," Travis said harshly.
"Don't you realize the tyrant is at the gates?"
Crockett rolled his eyes heavenward. "Never thought I'd hear a good
American say that! Billy, you'll never run for office--"
Bowie held up a hand, cutting into Crockett's talk. "All right, Davey. Hold
up. You ain't runnin' for Congress now. Bill, the main thing I don't like
in your whole message is that part about victory or death. That's got to
go. Don't ask us to sell that to the troops!"
Travis closed his eyes briefly. "Boys, listen. We don't have to tell the
men about this. They don't need to know the real story until it's too late
for them to get out. And then we shall cover ourselves with such glory that
none of us shall ever be forgotten. Americans are the best fighters in the
world when they are trapped. They teach this in the Foot School back on the
Chatahoochee. And if we die, to die for one's country is sweet--"
"Hell with that," Crockett drawled. "I don't mind dyin', but not for these
big landowners like Jim Bowie here. I just been thinkin'--I don't own
nothing in Texas."
"I resent that," Bowie shouted. "You know very well I volunteered, after I
sent my wife off to Acapulco to be with her family." With an effort, he
calmed himself. "Look, Travis. I have some reputation as a fighting
man--you know I lived through the gang wars back home. It's obvious this
Alamo place is indefensible, even if we had a thousand men."
"But we must delay Santa Anna at all costs--"
Bowie took out a fine, dark Mexican cigar and whittled at it with his
blade. Then he lit it, saying around it, "All right, let's all calm down.
Nothing a group of good men can't settle around a table. Now listen. I got
in with this revolution at first because I thought old Emperor Iturbide
would listen to reason and lower taxes. But nothin's worked out, because
hot-heads like you, Travis, queered the deal. All this yammerin' about
liberty! Mexico is a Republic, under an Emperor, not some kind of
democracy, and we can't change that. Let's talk some sense before it's too
late. We're all too old and too smart to be wavin' the flag like it's the
Fourth of July. Sooner or later, we're goin' to have to sit down and talk
with the Mexicans. And like Davey said, I own a million hectares, and I've
always paid minimum wage, and my wife's folks are way up there in the
Imperial Government of the Republic of Mexico. That means I got influence
in all the votin' groups, includin' the American Immigrant, since I'm a
minority group member myself. I think I can talk to Santa Anna, and even to
old Iturbide. If we sign a treaty now with Santa Anna, acknowledge the law
of the land, I think our lives and property rights will be respected--" He
cocked an eye toward Crockett.
"Makes sense, Jim. That's the way we do it in Congress. Compromise,
everybody happy. We never allowed ourselves to be led nowhere we didn't
want to go, I can tell you! And Bill, you got to admit that we're in better
bargaining position if we're out in the open, than if old Santa Anna's got
us penned up in this old Alamo."
"Ord," Travis said despairingly. "Ord, you understand. Help me! Make them
listen!"
* * * * *
Ord moved into the candlelight, his lean face sweating. "Gentlemen, this is
all wrong! It doesn't happen this way--"
Crockett sneered, "Who asked you, Ord? I'll bet you ain't even got a poll
tax!"
Decisively, Bowie said, "We're free men, Travis, and we won't be led around
like cattle. How about it, Davey? Think you could handle the rear guard, if
we try to move out of here?"
"Hell, yes! Just so we're movin'!"
"O.K. Put it to a vote of the men outside. Do we stay, and maybe get
croaked, or do we fall back and conserve our strength until we need it?
Take care of it, eh, Davey?"
Crockett picked up his guitar and went outside.
Travis roared, "This is insubordination! Treason!" He drew his saber, but
Bowie took it from him and broke it in two. Then the big man pulled his
knife.
"Stay back, Ord. The Alamo isn't worth the bones of a Britainer, either."
"Colonel Bowie, please," Ord cried. "You don't understand! You _must_
defend the Alamo! This is the turning point in the winning of the west! If
Houston is beaten, Texas will never join the Union! There will be no
Mexican War. No California, no nation stretching from sea to shining sea!
This is the Americans' manifest destiny. You are the hope of the future ...
you will save the world from Hitler, from Bolshevism--"
"Crazy as a hoot owl," Bowie said sadly. "Ord, you and Travis got to look
at it both ways. We ain't all in the right in this war--we Americans got
our faults, too."
"But you are free men," Ord whispered. "Vulgar, opinionated, brutal--but
free! You are still better than any breed who kneels to tyranny--"