30 MAY 1851
MILLICAN CREEK, REPUBLIC OF TEXAS
“That is good news indeed,” Colonel Walker was saying. The voices were close by; that was unusual, because it meant that Walker had left his ambulance to come out to the edge of the camp. Patton had taken to sleeping out here, the better to be close to the sentries should he be needed. For Walker to come out here in the dead of night, though—what time was it?—was most unusual.
Patton struggled up from his bedroll. It was easy to see Colonel Walker; the pale yellow light of a lamp revealed a small group of men standing behind one of the tents. Beside Walker stood the two captains, Wheat and Fontaine. They were speaking to a fourth man, who judging by his outlandish costume was a Texan. That, Patton remembered, was how the Rangers had dressed during the war with Mexico.
He pulled on his boots and stepped out of his tent. “Colonel,” he said as he walked toward the group. “What gets you up in the middle of the night?”
“Good news, Mister Patton,” Walker said. “This gentleman is a Texas Ranger. He has just brought me word that Washington has been taken by forces friendly to our cause.”
Patton was surprised at this news, and at his reaction to it. “Does this mean that there won’t be a fight after all?” He tried to understand his feelings—was he really relieved that he’d been spared the need to fight? Fighting was the reason he’d come on this expedition; he had a very clear memory of arguing with Stewart about his desire—his need—to be in a fight.
“If we’re lucky,” Walker said.
“I wouldn’t count on that,” said Fontaine. “Texas still got an army. Some of ‘em bound to disagree with us.”
“Perhaps,” said Walker. “But the army’s on the frontier, guarding against Indians and Mexico. Even if they don’t accept our leadership right away, it’ll be weeks before they can assemble and march on us. By then we’ll have consolidated our position.” Even in the strange, weak light of the lamp Walker’s pleasure at the news was evident. “This is splendid.”
“Besides,” the Ranger said, “the army’s all mixed around right now. Most of ‘em joined us soon as we showed up. The rest got no leader, ‘cause some brain-addled lieutenant murdered General Beauregard. Reynolds cried plenty about that, but you know he’s no more sad than a crocodile. Played right into our hands, really.”
“Who’d have thought Reynolds could be so effective?” Wheat asked, grinning out of the darkness on the edge of the lamplight.
“You got no idea,” the Ranger said, laughing as he spat out a stream of tobacco juice. “Damned old woman.”
“Sometimes the Lord moves in unlikely ways,” Walker said, and Patton could hear suppressed laughter in his voice. “I’ll take my allies where I can find them, so long as they do what’s required of them.”
“Well, we got the whole gubmint locked up,” the Ranger said. “More in spite of than because of Reynolds, but that don’t matter. We got the president, vice-president, most of the Congress and pretty much the entire cabinet.”
“What do you think, gentlemen?” Walker asked his captains. “Will we be able to reach Washington tomorrow?” He thought a moment. “I guess that would be today, now, wouldn’t it?”
Wheat looked at Patton. “You’ve been supervising the march, Patton,” he said. “What think you? Can the men do twenty-five miles today?”
Patton wanted to agree to that figure—to any figure. But caution warned him against being too accommodating. “I think so,” he said. “But the men are pretty tired, sir. And our men have been marching further than Colonel Parsons’s Texans, so we’re starting to have trouble keeping the column together.” He tried to clear his head; fatigue still pulled at him. “I’ll bet you could get your twenty-five miles, Colonel, if you promised some kind of reward at the end of it. Even a hot bath for everybody would probably be enough.”
“I’m prepared to promise them just about anything but whiskey,” Walker said. “And let me add, Patton, that I’m aware of how hard you’ve been working on this march. I thank you.”
Patton’s cheeks tingled, but he nevertheless felt that, somehow, he should have derived more pleasure from the praise. “You’re very kind, sir,” he murmured.
“Just being accurate,” Walker said. “Now, get back to bed, son. You’re going to have a long day—as are we all.”
Chapter Thirteen Chapter Fourteen Chapter Fifteen Chapter Sixteen
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