"Comin', Bill?" Crockett asked. "You're O.K., but you just don't know how
to be one of the boys. You got to learn that no dog is better'n any other."
"No," Travis croaked hoarsely. "I stay. Stay or go, we shall all die like
dogs, anyway. Boys, for the last time! Don't reveal our weakness to the
enemy--"
"What weakness? We're stronger than them. Americans could whip the Mexicans
any day, if we wanted to. But the thing to do is make 'em talk, not fight.
So long, Bill."
The two big men stepped outside. In the night there was a sudden clatter of
hoofs as the Texans mounted and rode. From across the river came a brief
spatter of musket fire, then silence. In the dark, there had been no
difficulty in breaking through the Mexican lines.
Inside the chapel, John Ord's mouth hung slackly. He muttered, "Am I
insane? It didn't happen this way--it couldn't! The books can't be _that_
wrong--"
In the candlelight, Travis hung his head. "We tried, John. Perhaps it was a
forlorn hope at best. Even if we had defeated Santa Anna, or delayed him, I
do not think the Indian Nations would have let Houston get help from the
United States."
Ord continued his dazed muttering, hardly hearing.
"We need a contiguous frontier with Texas," Travis continued slowly, just
above a whisper. "But we Americans have never broken a treaty with the
Indians, and pray God we never shall. _We_ aren't like the Mexicans, always
pushing, always grabbing off New Mexico, Arizona, California. _We_ aren't
colonial oppressors, thank God! No, it wouldn't have worked out, even if we
American immigrants had secured our rights in Texas--" He lifted a short,
heavy, percussion pistol in his hand and cocked it. "I hate to say it, but
perhaps if we hadn't taken Payne and Jefferson so seriously--if we could
only have paid lip service, and done what we really wanted to do, in our
hearts ... no matter. I won't live to see our final disgrace."
He put the pistol to his head and blew out his brains.
* * * * *
Ord was still gibbering when the Mexican cavalry stormed into the old
mission, pulling down the flag and seizing him, dragging him before the
resplendent little general in green and gold.
Since he was the only prisoner, Santa Anna questioned Ord carefully. When
the sharp point of a bayonet had been thrust half an inch into his stomach,
the Britainer seemed to come around. When he started speaking, and the
Mexicans realized he was English, it went better with him. Ord was
obviously mad, it seemed to Santa Anna, but since he spoke English and
seemed educated, he could be useful. Santa Anna didn't mind the raving; he
understood all about Napoleon's detention camps and what they had done to
Britainers over there. In fact, Santa Anna was thinking of setting up a
couple of those camps himself. When they had milked Ord dry, they threw him
on a horse and took him along.
Thus John Ord had an excellent view of the battlefield when Santa Anna's
cannon broke the American lines south of the Trinity. Unable to get his men
across to safety, Sam Houston died leading the last, desperate charge
against the Mexican regulars. After that, the American survivors were too
tired to run from the cavalry that pinned them against the flooding river.
Most of them died there. Santa Anna expressed complete indifference to what
happened to the Texans' women and children.
Mexican soldiers found Jim Bowie hiding in a hut, wearing a plain linen
tunic and pretending to be a civilian. They would not have discovered his
identity had not some of the Texan women cried out, "Colonel Bowie--Colonel
Bowie!" as he was led into the Mexican camp.
He was hauled before Santa Anna, and Ord was summoned to watch. "Well, don
Jaime," Santa Anna remarked, "You have been a foolish man. I promised your
wife's uncle to send you to Acapulco safely, though of course your lands
are forfeit. You understand we must have lands for the veterans' program
when this campaign is over--" Santa Anna smiled then. "Besides, since Ord
here has told me how instrumental you were in the abandonment of the Alamo,
I think the Emperor will agree to mercy in your case. You know, don Jaime,
your compatriots had me worried back there. The Alamo might have been a
tough nut to crack ... _pues_, no matter."
And since Santa Anna had always been broadminded, not objecting to light
skin or immigrant background, he invited Bowie to dinner that night.
* * * * *
Santa Anna turned to Ord. "But if we could catch this rascally war
criminal, Crockett ... however, I fear he has escaped us. He slipped over
the river with a fake passport, and the Indians have interned him."
"Sí, _Señor Presidente_," Ord said dully.
"Please, don't call me that," Santa Anna cried, looking around. "True, many
of us officers have political ambitions, but Emperor Iturbide is old and
vain. It could mean my head--"
Suddenly, Ord's head was erect, and the old, clear light was in his blue
eyes. "Now I understand!" he shouted. "I thought Travis was raving back
there, before he shot himself--and your talk of the Emperor! American
respect for Indian rights! Jeffersonian form of government! Oh, those
ponces who peddled me that X-4-A--the _track jumper_! I'm not back in my
own past. I've jumped the time track--_I'm back in a screaming
alternate!_"
"Please, not so loud, _Señor_ Ord," Santa Anna sighed. "Now, we must shoot
a few more American officers, of course. I regret this, you understand, and
I shall no doubt be much criticized in French Canada and Russia, where
there are still civilized values. But we must establish the Republic of the
Empire once and for all upon this continent, that aristocratic tyranny
shall not perish from the earth. Of course, as an Englishman, you
understand perfectly, Señor Ord."
"Of course, excellency," Ord said.
"There are soft hearts--soft heads, I say--in Mexico who cry for civil
rights for the Americans. But I must make sure that Mexican dominance is
never again threatened north of the Rio Grande."
"_Seguro_, excellency," Ord said, suddenly. If the bloody X-4-A _had_
jumped the track, there was no getting back, none at all. He was stuck
here. Ord's blue eyes narrowed. "After all, it ... it is manifest destiny
that the Latin peoples of North America meet at the center of the
continent. Canada and Mexico shall share the Mississippi."
Santa Anna's dark eyes glowed. "You say what I have often thought. You are
a man of vision, and much sense. You realize the _Indios_ must go, whether
they were here first or not. I think I will make you my secretary, with the
rank of captain."
"_Gracias_, Excellency."
"Now, let us write my communique to the capital, _Capitán_ Ord. We must
describe how the American abandonment of the Alamo allowed me to press the
traitor Houston so closely he had no chance to maneuver his men into the
trap he sought. _Ay, Capitán_, it is a cardinal principle of the
Anglo-Saxons, to get themselves into a trap from which they must fight
their way out. This I never let them do, which is why I succeed where
others fail ... you said something, _Capitán_?"
"_Sí_, Excellency. I said, I shall title our communique: 'Remember the
Alamo,'" Ord said, standing at attention.
"_Bueno!_ You have a gift for words. Indeed, if ever we feel the _gringos_
are too much for us, your words shall once again remind us of the truth!"
Santa Anna smiled. "I think I shall make you a major. You have indeed
coined a phrase which shall live in history forever!"
* * * * *