21 MAY 1851
SPRING CROSSING, REPUBLIC OF TEXAS
He’d never even studied how to take a unit across a river before, but from the moment Walker had assigned him to Captain Wheat, Patton had taken care to observe both his new commander and the chief teamster for the company, mentally noting the details of managing men, animals and wagons on the march. This was the sort of detail he knew Stewart enjoyed learning; he’d decided there had after all been some point to the man’s otherwise frustrating studiousness. Not all officers, he knew, bothered themselves much with the details of moving their men; Captain Wheat, for example, left most of that in the hands of the chief teamster, a foul-mouthed—but nevertheless capable—Mississippian. But even an officer who was prepared to delegate such duties should know enough about them to be able to tell when they weren’t being performed properly.
Now, though, the orderly transfer of the company to the west bank of the Trinity was of less importance than that ominous cloud of dust to the north. “Get this load off the ferry and get back across the river as fast as you can,” Patton told the sergeant who commanded the ferry. “When you get back there, find Captain Wheat immediately and tell him that I’ve gone to investigate. He might want to have mounted men swim the river with their horses—we have to have as many men across as we can before whatever’s raising that dust gets here.” It was the worst possible time to receive an attack: scarcely a third of the lead company had crossed the river, fewer than two dozen men to defend the crossing against—what? That was what he had to find out.
He was in the saddle before the ferry touched the west bank, and as soon as the sergeant dropped the gate Patton galloped ashore and up the gently sloping bank to where the men waited, smoking and talking while their horses grazed.
“Fall in!” Patton shouted as he approached. The men looked at him stupidly for a moment before coming to a semblance of attention. At least they remember what the order means, Patton thought, reining to a stop in front of them.
“Something’s coming this way,” he told them. “I don’t know what it is, but we must assume for the moment that it’s hostile. I want you to form as big a perimeter around this space as you can. As more men come across, add them to the perimeter. Make sure that most of your strength is facing north. You”—he pointed to a likely looking fellow—”come with me. We’re going to check this out.”
To his credit the man understood and acted quickly, and in just a moment the two men were riding at a fast trot on a course that would intercept whatever it was that approached them.
This rolling country presented a wide range of hills suitable for observation of an enemy’s approach, and after riding for ten minutes Patton began climbing a succession of these hills, leaving his companion and the horses just below the brow and crawling to the summit, in order to be able to observe without himself being seen. For a long time his efforts brought no result except to stain his suit. Finally, though, his patience was rewarded. The dust cloud was still hidden by hills and one of the stretches of forest that dotted this part of the country; but into the valley below him Patton saw a party of horsemen moving. The first man wore buckskins and had “scout” all over him. Patton’s blood chilled, though, when he saw the men who followed the scout: they wore military uniforms, white jackets and trousers in a style he didn’t recognize. Pulling his spyglass from its case on his belt, he examined one of the men more closely. The brute was unshaven, his uniform stained and dirty. But his equipment was in good order and the musketoon he carried looked deadly efficient.
In an instant Patton knew what he had to do. Crawling back down the slope to where his companion held their horses, he said, “I want you to ride back to the crossing and find Colonel Walker, if he’s across, or Captain Wheat if the colonel’s not across yet. Tell whichever you find that there are soldiers approaching the crossing. I’m going to stay and see if I can get an estimate of their numbers.”
The man was on his horse almost before Patton had finished speaking. I can’t blame him, Patton thought. I’d rather be back with the others, too. He watched the departing horseman for only a moment, though, before crawling back to the summit of the hill. He found himself having to swallow several large breaths when he was finally in a position to see the men in the valley below—not that the climb had tired him. Was the churning in his stomach fear, he wondered, or was it the excitement of playing hide-and-seek with an opposing army? Had Stewart felt something like this at Harpers Ferry?
One of the scouts was moving up the slope, though at an angle that made it uncertain whether or not he intended to climb to the summit. Better not to take the chance, Patton thought; besides, he’d spotted a copse of trees at the far end of the valley below, in which he could hide to watch the force as it entered the valley. Better still, he guessed he’d be able to leave the hiding place and make his way back to the crossing without being spotted by the white-clad soldiers. If he was lucky, anyway.
Patton was a little surprised when the main body of troops entered the valley. In such a spread-out, spacious country he hadn’t really expected to see infantry; dragoons or at least mounted infantry made the most sense in a place such as this. Yet the men who marched across his line of vision as he stood behind a tree in his new vantage point were on foot, with only their officers mounted. They marched behind a large light-blue banner which, whenever a stray gust stretched it out, revealed itself to be the single-starred flag of the Texas Republic.
In a way, he thought as he counted the marchers, I’m glad of this. Colonel Walker wants to avoid a fight until he’s at Washington-on-the-Brazos. But for me, the sooner we come to blows, the better.
His eagerness dissipated a bit as the marchers continued to move through the valley. By the time their wagons appeared at the tail-end of the column, he’d counted two hundred-sixty men, two full companies and supports. The only saving grace was that they had no artillery with them. I have to get this information to Colonel Walker before those scouts discover him, he thought as he mounted his horse. These men outnumber us—not by much, it’s true, but they’re also soldiers and we’re still learning. We can even the odds if we can get into a good defensive position before they arrive.
He punished his horse racing back to the crossing, but had the satisfaction of seeing the enemy scouts entering a meadow behind him just as he was exiting it: Colonel Walker would get the information in time to make good use of it.
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