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[Continuing chapter 12]
Captain Cooper was waiting on the road to Washington when Reynolds steered his horse through the gate. “A good morning for a revolution,” Cooper said, scratching the back of his neck. Reynolds tried not to think about what might be living in Cooper’s hair to cause such itching.
It was still dark, and the stars hovered overhead in their silent thousands. To the east, though, the black of the sky was beginning to turn purple. Reynolds checked his watch, tilting the face to catch as much as possible of the moonlight. “We’re in plenty of time,” he said. “The others should be starting to show at the tavern in about half an hour.”
“If we get a move on, we’ll have time for a drink before they show,” Cooper said. He spurred his horse into motion.
All but one of the patriots arrived at the tavern by five-thirty, the appointed time. Langley, who was to lead a gang of men to seize the hotel housing the departments of the treasury and the interior, hadn’t shown himself by six o’clock, when the sky was mouse-gray with the approaching dawn and Reynolds could wait no longer. Langley was a coward and a fool, he decided, and would pay the price for his fear once the capital had been secured. “Captain Cooper,” he said, rising, “Mister Langley has apparently overslept. We’ll have to change our plans a little to accommodate him. Once we have the armory secure, I want you to send one of your Rangers to lead the men who are to take control of the treasury building. We’ll have to find a way to get word to those men that the plans are going ahead, with or without Langley.”
“You sure this is going to work, Reynolds?” That was Higgins, who’d already downed two rum punches in an attempt to bolster his obviously inadequate courage.
“Would I be here if I had any doubts?” Reynolds retorted. “You see to your responsibilities, hear, and we’ll be just fine.” He lifted his cup. “To our success,” he intoned, “and to a golden future for the Republic of Texas.” After they’d drunk the toast—with sadly varying degrees of enthusiasm, he noted—Reynolds deliberately placed his cup back on the heavy, crude table. “It’s time we were off,” he said. “Remember, we have to present a face of unanimity and authority at the armory. We must have those weapons and as many as possible of the men with us, and with us quickly, in order to effect a quick and bloodless assumption of power.”
“I’m all for quick,” Cooper drawled. “We’ll see about bloodless. Let’s get gone.”
The patriots were in a better frame of mind when they left the tavern, Reynolds reflected, than they’d been when they straggled in. The approaching daylight had something to do with that, he thought, as did the rum they’d consumed. But mostly, he decided, their enthusiasm had been restored because of the firm and decisive example he’d set. It was what a leader was supposed to do.
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Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve
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