[Continuing chapter fifteen]
“I’d feel better about doing this if we had a few more men behind us,” John Patton said to Travis. “Shouldn’t we be bringing in more of the sentries and pickets that Reynolds has thrown out before we move on the fort?”
Travis felt inclined to agree. He could feel the press of time—or, rather, time’s absence—but storming Fort Walker, with who knew how many rebels inside it, seemed to him a desperate act for such a small band. In perhaps just under two hours of painstaking work they had managed to add just a dozen soldiers, most of them confused, to their ranks. Those men, and Miller’s militia, now waited quietly a half-mile to the east, down by the river where with luck no one would see them and give the alarm. Travis and his companions hid behind yet another commercial building, this one an excessively fragrant livery stable that was fortunately empty, its equine inhabitants presumably having been impressed by the rebels. I have learned more, Travis mused, about the back-yards and privies of Washington than any man ought to know.
“We’re already risking a lot by having waited this long,” Captain Stewart said. “Sooner or later your friend Reynolds or his military men are going to notice that they’ve not heard from their sentries in a while.” He pointed to the dark, hulking shape of the dirt- and brick-walled fort. “Besides, haven’t you noticed yet that there’s virtually nobody on the walls?” Travis turned to look in the direction of Stewart’s gesture. Sure enough, when he opened his eyes wide to the faint night-light he could make out just two silhouettes on the fort’s ramparts. Once again Travis was impressed with Stewart’s calm, cool grasp of the essentials of a situation. The man’s been in Texas just a few hours, he thought, marveling, and half of them in the company of our enemies—yet without really expending any effort he’s somehow persuaded us all to listen to him on any question of tactics.
“This oughta be easy.” Ben McCulloch was back, out of breath but pleased with himself; he’d volunteered to do a quick reconnaissance around the fort. There’s another man who’s revealed himself to be exceedingly useful, Travis thought. I’ve certainly been lucky—or blessed—today. Other than having an utter idiot take control of my capital city, that is. He nodded to McCulloch, encouraging the marshal to explain his enthusiasm.
“They got nobody outside the fort at all,” McCulloch said, “and I only counted four guards on the walls. They’re in pairs and neither pair seems to want to have much to do with the other. I could climb that wall easy, and be in the gatehouse opening her up before anyone knew I was there.”
“Perhaps they haven’t persuaded the entire garrison to come over to their side,” Travis said. “In which case, there must be more loyal soldiers imprisoned somewhere than we first hoped.”
“Probably inside the fort,” Cleburne said—another man of action whose ability, and easy camaraderie with Stewart, Travis had likewise come to appreciate. “That’d be the easiest place to defend. Can’t fathom why they all aren’t in there, to be honest.”
“They aren’t expecting any trouble,” Travis said. “Reynolds must believe I’m halfway to Mexico by now.” He laughed sourly. “As if that peg-legged monster Santa Anna would have me. Have me for dinner, probably, the bloodthirsty brute.”
“Wonder how long it’ll be before the Meskins hear about what’s going on here,” John Patton muttered. “Probably already know. You’ll likely have to deal with a Meskin invasion no matter which way this thing today turns out, Mister Secretary.” He spat a plug of tobacco into the damp earth beside the stable, and immediately inserted a fresh one into his mouth, chewing furiously.
“In which case you’d best be moving quickly,” Russell said. The editor looked up from the notebook into which he’d been scribbling. Looking down again, he laughed. “I’m never going to be able to read this. Should have attached a candle to my pencil.”
“We should move now,” said Stewart. “I don’t doubt we can take the city back, Mister Travis. But remember, Reynolds is the least of our problems. Walker seems still to be coming this way. And if Patton and Cleburne are right, that’s half a thousand men. Do you think you’ll be able to raise that many?”
Travis did the arithmetic and then shook his head. “We might end up with a hundred. Which means that we want as many of the garrison alive as possible. Most of them are no doubt just following orders, and will do what I tell them just as easily—if not more so—as they’ve done for Reynolds. The officers may be more of a problem. Even so, I want no revenge killings here, gentlemen. I want the rebels subdued as quickly and as safely as possible. Am I understood?”
Cleburne glanced at his arm, and Travis could see the bulk of the bandage under the shirt and coat. “Oh, I’m all for that,” the Irishman said with a sour grin. “What I said yesterday notwithstanding, I couldn’t hold a rifle right now, much less fire it.”
“Any shooting you need done,” Stewart said, “you just ask me, Cleburne.”
“Behave yourself, Captain,” John Patton said. “The secretary said no shooting.”
“No shooting if possible,” Travis reminded them. “Don’t take foolish risks, either.” He turned to Stewart, Cleburne and McCulloch. “How do you propose we do this, sirs?”
Cleburne glanced at Stewart, who said, “I’ll go over the wall and get to the gate.”
“While you’re doing that,” Cleburne said, “we’ll attract the attention of the guards. To do that, Mister Travis, I’ll want a couple of the men we’ve taken. They’ll be Judas goats for us: they’ll pretend they’re still with the rebels. I’m not expecting them to actually get us inside—though I wouldn’t complain if that happened—but if they can distract the guards it makes it more likely that Stewart here can do his job with minimal risk.”
“You fellows wait here a moment,” McCulloch said. “I’ll go fetch you a pair each of Irishmen and Prussians.” He took off running, and Travis wondered if he had ever in his life had that much energy. It had been a long time since he’d been twenty, and even then he’d been a completely serious, focused man, determined to make himself prosperous and successful. I’ve clearly missed something, he thought sadly. Then he looked at the men around him, who watched him waiting for his command, and concluded that what he’d missed was as nothing when set against what he’d gained. I’ve helped a nation win her freedom, and I’m about to save her again; how many men can say they’ve done that? “What will I be doing?” he asked.
Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve“I’d feel better about doing this if we had a few more men behind us,” John Patton said to Travis. “Shouldn’t we be bringing in more of the sentries and pickets that Reynolds has thrown out before we move on the fort?”
Travis felt inclined to agree. He could feel the press of time—or, rather, time’s absence—but storming Fort Walker, with who knew how many rebels inside it, seemed to him a desperate act for such a small band. In perhaps just under two hours of painstaking work they had managed to add just a dozen soldiers, most of them confused, to their ranks. Those men, and Miller’s militia, now waited quietly a half-mile to the east, down by the river where with luck no one would see them and give the alarm. Travis and his companions hid behind yet another commercial building, this one an excessively fragrant livery stable that was fortunately empty, its equine inhabitants presumably having been impressed by the rebels. I have learned more, Travis mused, about the back-yards and privies of Washington than any man ought to know.
“We’re already risking a lot by having waited this long,” Captain Stewart said. “Sooner or later your friend Reynolds or his military men are going to notice that they’ve not heard from their sentries in a while.” He pointed to the dark, hulking shape of the dirt- and brick-walled fort. “Besides, haven’t you noticed yet that there’s virtually nobody on the walls?” Travis turned to look in the direction of Stewart’s gesture. Sure enough, when he opened his eyes wide to the faint night-light he could make out just two silhouettes on the fort’s ramparts. Once again Travis was impressed with Stewart’s calm, cool grasp of the essentials of a situation. The man’s been in Texas just a few hours, he thought, marveling, and half of them in the company of our enemies—yet without really expending any effort he’s somehow persuaded us all to listen to him on any question of tactics.
“This oughta be easy.” Ben McCulloch was back, out of breath but pleased with himself; he’d volunteered to do a quick reconnaissance around the fort. There’s another man who’s revealed himself to be exceedingly useful, Travis thought. I’ve certainly been lucky—or blessed—today. Other than having an utter idiot take control of my capital city, that is. He nodded to McCulloch, encouraging the marshal to explain his enthusiasm.
“They got nobody outside the fort at all,” McCulloch said, “and I only counted four guards on the walls. They’re in pairs and neither pair seems to want to have much to do with the other. I could climb that wall easy, and be in the gatehouse opening her up before anyone knew I was there.”
“Perhaps they haven’t persuaded the entire garrison to come over to their side,” Travis said. “In which case, there must be more loyal soldiers imprisoned somewhere than we first hoped.”
“Probably inside the fort,” Cleburne said—another man of action whose ability, and easy camaraderie with Stewart, Travis had likewise come to appreciate. “That’d be the easiest place to defend. Can’t fathom why they all aren’t in there, to be honest.”
“They aren’t expecting any trouble,” Travis said. “Reynolds must believe I’m halfway to Mexico by now.” He laughed sourly. “As if that peg-legged monster Santa Anna would have me. Have me for dinner, probably, the bloodthirsty brute.”
“Wonder how long it’ll be before the Meskins hear about what’s going on here,” John Patton muttered. “Probably already know. You’ll likely have to deal with a Meskin invasion no matter which way this thing today turns out, Mister Secretary.” He spat a plug of tobacco into the damp earth beside the stable, and immediately inserted a fresh one into his mouth, chewing furiously.
“In which case you’d best be moving quickly,” Russell said. The editor looked up from the notebook into which he’d been scribbling. Looking down again, he laughed. “I’m never going to be able to read this. Should have attached a candle to my pencil.”
“We should move now,” said Stewart. “I don’t doubt we can take the city back, Mister Travis. But remember, Reynolds is the least of our problems. Walker seems still to be coming this way. And if Patton and Cleburne are right, that’s half a thousand men. Do you think you’ll be able to raise that many?”
Travis did the arithmetic and then shook his head. “We might end up with a hundred. Which means that we want as many of the garrison alive as possible. Most of them are no doubt just following orders, and will do what I tell them just as easily—if not more so—as they’ve done for Reynolds. The officers may be more of a problem. Even so, I want no revenge killings here, gentlemen. I want the rebels subdued as quickly and as safely as possible. Am I understood?”
Cleburne glanced at his arm, and Travis could see the bulk of the bandage under the shirt and coat. “Oh, I’m all for that,” the Irishman said with a sour grin. “What I said yesterday notwithstanding, I couldn’t hold a rifle right now, much less fire it.”
“Any shooting you need done,” Stewart said, “you just ask me, Cleburne.”
“Behave yourself, Captain,” John Patton said. “The secretary said no shooting.”
“No shooting if possible,” Travis reminded them. “Don’t take foolish risks, either.” He turned to Stewart, Cleburne and McCulloch. “How do you propose we do this, sirs?”
Cleburne glanced at Stewart, who said, “I’ll go over the wall and get to the gate.”
“While you’re doing that,” Cleburne said, “we’ll attract the attention of the guards. To do that, Mister Travis, I’ll want a couple of the men we’ve taken. They’ll be Judas goats for us: they’ll pretend they’re still with the rebels. I’m not expecting them to actually get us inside—though I wouldn’t complain if that happened—but if they can distract the guards it makes it more likely that Stewart here can do his job with minimal risk.”
“You fellows wait here a moment,” McCulloch said. “I’ll go fetch you a pair each of Irishmen and Prussians.” He took off running, and Travis wondered if he had ever in his life had that much energy. It had been a long time since he’d been twenty, and even then he’d been a completely serious, focused man, determined to make himself prosperous and successful. I’ve clearly missed something, he thought sadly. Then he looked at the men around him, who watched him waiting for his command, and concluded that what he’d missed was as nothing when set against what he’d gained. I’ve helped a nation win her freedom, and I’m about to save her again; how many men can say they’ve done that? “What will I be doing?” he asked.
Chapter Thirteen Chapter Fourteen Chapter Fifteen
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