LITMIR.BIZ

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cold, sly, killer eyes, filled with rage and locked on Travis, who cast his own harsh, unwavering stare on the Mexican federale.

      Travis squinted his eyes, stared through his sights over the muzzle of Paco’s revolver, and sighted on his chest.

      The part-time bandit wore shiny black leather and a gold necklace. His hair was raven black, with a rare streak of blond over his left ear. He had an inch-long scar under one eye and a long, stringlike beard that fell down to his neck. A white sombrero hung over his back.

      “You killed my brother. Now it’s time for you to die,” Paco said calmly but with unmistakable earnestness.

      “The scourge of the earth,” Travis answered, feeling a drop of cool sweat run down his back. He tried to lock his vision on Paco. He attempted to focus his whole body, everything, on the man’s chest, being sure not to get distracted by his eyes, his awful expression. “I’m not going anywhere. Take your best shot. You’ll be in hell in five minutes anyway.” As Travis spoke, as delicately as he could, he held his pistol tightly, squeezing his trigger, slowly increasing the pressure while continuing to badger the bandit. “I’m fixin’ to do the Mexican people a—”

      At last, there was a crack and the recoil. Paco hunched over, snarling, cursing, and dropping his pistol. He grabbed his bleeding right forearm. Instead of striking the chest, Travis’s bullet had punctured the bandit’s arm. As Paco regained his composure, he dove to the ground, reaching for his pistol with his good arm.

      Travis slowly cocked the hammer of his Colt as he watched the Mexican squirm on the ground. Instead of putting a second slug in the federale’s back, he could not resist firing a shot that intentionally missed by a few inches. He enjoyed watching the bloody bandit flinch in fear. With gratification filling his soul, Travis quickly cocked the Colt again. But this time, the chamber of his trusty sidearm jammed.

      “Shit,” Travis mumbled to himself, working the cylinder with his free hand for a few seconds before dashing to cover.

      Paco looked up and fired two shots with his off hand. Both ricocheted off the rocks. “I’m going to kill you, Ross,” he grunted, and laughed, struggling to his knees.

      “Where you at, Tony?” Travis yelled as he crouched low, trying to free his jammed revolver.

      “Hold on, I’m coming,” a muffled voice responded. “Had to go back across this creek to get there.”

      Travis peeked over the boulder to see Paco getting to his feet. As he did, Travis heard gunshots, demented hollering, and horses rustling through the brush. Shortly, the horses broke from the cover to his left, carrying more bandits. From the depths of the ravine, Tony also appeared, instantly spraying Paco with three bullets that missed their mark.

      Paco fired another reckless, vain shot at Travis, then turned to look behind him. Travis also looked. Chase and Chester, still out of shooting range, were making their way toward the skirmish. Paco stomped an embittered foot and stumbled toward the horses, clutching his wound in pain. One of the bandits raced forward, hoisted Paco onto his horse, and reared around, dashing back for the brush. Paco turned while atop the horse and took a final shot at Travis as the bandits disappeared.

      Dazed and almost spent, Travis collapsed, falling to his buttocks, his tension abating. He reached up and mopped his now-saturated face with his sleeve—a calm now settling over the bloodstained turf. As he leaned his back against the cool rocks, he heard Chase and Chester stumble on the scene.

      “Ya’ll get ’em?” he heard Chase ask Tony.

      “One,” Tony replied softly.

      “They got Fitzmorris. He’s dead,” Chase said, walking over and standing above Travis.

      “I shot Paco in the arm,” Travis grunted with eyes still closed, thinking how stupid and unprofessional he had been by firing that teasing shot at Paco. Would he one day regret that? How much torment and suffering would the federale dish out to innocents in the future? He had let his emotions impede his job—a powerful disappointment.

      “You think we should go after them?” Chase said.

      “They’ve got a wounded man,” Travis sighed. “We could probably get them in a day or so. But we probably better move on. We’ve got more important business. Fannin is expecting us. We’ll get Paco another day.”

      Chapter 4

      Travis looked out at Goliad, then at Fort Defiance, now partially in flames. The morning was only a few hours old and still foggy, but the large, gloomy fires of the fort’s stock and provisions warmed his cheeks. He turned to the interesting little town on a rugged, almost treeless, ivory sandstone escarpment above the San Antonio River, rippling clear over a rock bed. Between the numerous gullies, a dozen white stone buildings and twice that many wood shacks, all square and flat-roofed, were stacked up the side of the terrace like steps. Across the river lay the ruins of the huge Spanish mission, Espiritu Santo. The glare from all the shining stone caused Travis to squint his eyes.

      It had been a month since he had arrived here—not a pleasurable month. Only a week earlier, the fort had received word that the Alamo had fallen, with all its defenders slain in its defense. Since then, refugees and soldiers had been flocking to the little town, now garrisoned with almost five hundred soldiers. But now, they had been ordered to leave, to move east to Victoria, then on to Gonzales to rendezvous with the other Texas forces, now under the command of a new general, a Tennessean named Sam Houston.

      The orders to depart had just come down, and the little village buzzed with activity and panic, troops hurrying to load up personal items and citizens ambling around trying decide their best course. Travis shook his head and looked at the fort, guarded on three approaches by a bend in the river. It was a daunting obstacle, much more so than the Alamo. And the Texans had spent the past few months shoring up its defenses. The fort was almost four acres, surrounded by a seven-foot-thick stone fence that also protruded down to the water to allow access during a siege. Its corners housed fortresses and watchtowers. Outside, deep trenches had been dug around the fence. Inside the grounds were ten pieces of four-pound artillery, all now spiked and sitting atop the flat roof of the fort’s church or centered in the grounds. The troops and wagons sat lined up outside the fort, the wagons overloaded with powder, water, personal belongings, and several cannons. Lounging around the wagons were four hundred volunteers from New Orleans and Mobile, known as the Grays because of their distinctive wool, coal-colored uniforms.

      Travis reached over and picked up a young, dirty-faced girl, not six years in age, cradling a worn-out doll and wandering through the fort and the chaos aimlessly in search of a parent. He hoisted the girl up, coddling her in his arms and bouncing her gently. He brushed her hair. Her skin was smooth and tinted, eyes a deep blue—innocent, beautiful, but filled with fear and amazement at the surroundings. “Where’s your mama?”

      “Me and Tony are going on to Victoria, ahead of the column,” Chase blared, walking up behind Travis. “What you got there?”

      Travis turned around and handed the girl to Chase. “What?”

      “What’s your name?” Chase whispered playfully, wiggling the girl’s nose before turning his eyes to Travis. “I managed to secure you a cushy job, escorting the Grays to Victoria.”

      “She’s not very talkative,” Travis said, and looked at Tony. “What time are you two leaving?”

      “Now,” Chase said, putting the girl down and holding her by the wrist.

      Travis turned back to the dreadful fort; the soaring flames and mass hysteria gave the town an air of doom that spilled over him. Where were they headed? Nothing was more vulnerable than a slow train on the prairie. It made him feel uneasy, uncertain of the situation—too many unknowns. “I guess I’ll catch up with you two in Victoria. Don’t know why we’re leaving. There’s not a better place in Texas for defense. Much rather be behind these walls than get caught out in the open. Take her down to the town hall for me on your way out of town.”

      Chase reached down, grabbed

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