Six Guns Straight From Hell - Tales Of Horror And Dark Fantasy From The Weird Weird West (18 page)
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Authors: Jennifer Campbell-Hicks,David B. Riley (Editors)
The Last Defenders
by
Carol Hightshoe
The echo of my horse’s hooves on the stones of the road rings in the night. How many years have I been trapped in this half life? How many nights have I ridden through the streets of San Antonio de Bexar? How many times have I failed to reach Travis and the others? How many times have I fallen to the rifles of Santa Anna’s army, unable to reach the Alamo? Unable to tell them of Fannin’s treachery.
They were expecting his reinforcements and he turned back, returning to Goliad after less than a day of travel. I don’t know the reason why Fannin’s troops turned their backs on Travis, but Houston said holding the Alamo as long as possible was key to Texas’ Independence. How much longer could they have held if Fannin’s troops and artillery had reached them?
The timbre of my horse’s hooves changes and I pull back on the reins—something is different. We have crossed the river and there is no sign of the Mexican Army. When I fell, all those nights ago, I was ambushed at this spot and never made it across the river. How is it that, this time, there is no ambush, no army between me and the Alamo?
I pause and stare at the field between where I sit on my horse and the front gates of the old church. Where previously the Mexican Army led by General Antonio Lopez de Santa Ana was camped, there is only grassland. But there is something else. The breeze catches the flag flying above the barracks and as it unfurls slightly, I see—not the familiar red, white and blue of the Texas flag, but the green, white and red of the Mexican flag. The battle is long over, Houston defeated Santa Anna at San Jacinto—even trapped as I am in this recurring nightmare ride, I do know what happened. How is it that a Mexican flag now flies over the Alamo?
I kick my horse lightly and he snorts, but refuses to take another step toward the Alamo. A harder kick and he neighs and rears, then takes a step back. No matter how hard I try to convince him to move, he only moves backward.
I dismount and he vanishes, but not before he taps the ground with his hoof. A sign he will be at this spot when I return. I feel myself being drawn toward the Alamo and I relax as I make my way toward the fort. I know the Mexicans who traveled with Santa Anna were superstitious and perhaps, having a ghostly presence in the Alamo will be enough to make them leave. I still remember how they tried to burn the Alamo after the battle and how several spirits appeared with flaming swords—their message was clear, they would continue to defend the Alamo. Now that I’m a ghost, I can sense the amount of blood that has been spilled and the number of spirits laid to rest in this ground. I don’t know who the spirits were who appeared, but I believe they were Travis, Bowie, Crockett and Dickenson. They were the last to defend the Alamo and would be the newest spirits in the area and the least likely to have found their rest with their defeat.
A group of men have set up a small campfire near the breach where Santa Anna’s men finally were able to find a way into the Alamo. I stand behind them, knowing they cannot see me. I smile as one of them glances up then quickly makes the sign of the cross over his chest. They may not be able to see me, but he, at least, was able to sense my presence. This was once a church and later became a fort, perhaps they understand they are desecrating hallowed ground, or perhaps they heard the stories of why Santa Anna’s men refused to burn the Alamo; of the last defenders and their flaming swords.
I turn and head toward the chapel. It is the largest building on the grounds and is still relatively intact and the best place for a commander to have his headquarters. However, the best place to learn anything would be where the majority of the troops are—the barracks. I pause and turn my attention there.
“
Madre de Dios.”
“
Paz?”
“
Did you not sense the spirit watching us?”
The other two men laugh, a forced laugh, as they looked around at the crumbling walls. “You have been listening to Lisandro’s ghost stories again. There are no spirits here—only memories.”
“
You are a fool.” Paz pulled a silver crucifix from under his shirt and kissed it. “My cousin was one of those who was here when el Generalissimo ordered them to burn this place. He saw the diablos who stood between the army and the doors.”
“
And how much celebrating had he done prior to seeing these spirits?”
Paz stood and brushed the dirt from his pants. “May the angels watch over you.” He paused and looked up at the stars. “Strong memories have their own power and leave a bit of themselves behind as well. Whether it was a memory or a spirit—there was a presence here. Good night.”
“
Good night.”
I watch the one they called Paz head into one of the intact rooms of the barracks. He knelt before a figure of a woman holding a child—Mary. He was muttering a prayer asking her to protect him and his friends from vengeful spirits and asking her to guide those trapped here to a place where they could find their rest. He stood slowly and placed a hand on the wall to steady himself. Before he could turn away, I place a hand over his. I can feel the warmth in his flesh and the beat of his heart. It takes effort, but I am able to draw some of that warmth from him. His eyes go wide and I know he can now see me.
“
Who are you?” He asks.
“
One of those who are only a memory.” My voice is weak and no louder than a whisper. “Why are you here?”
He shakes his head. “I do not know the General’s orders. I only know we are not to leave the Alamo or be seen by those who live in the town.”
I nod and pull my hand away from his and smile as he takes a deep breath and crosses himself again. He can no longer see me. I leave him there muttering another prayer for protection.
I was brought here for a reason. Perhaps it is for this reason I’ve been trapped as I have. Perhaps this is my chance for redemption so I can finally find rest. To find out I also need to find out why these men are here.
“
Rider.”
“
Sir!” I snap to attention as I turn to face the voice behind me.
“
You failed in reaching the Alamo to warn us Fannin would not be arriving as we expected and have had to relive that failure as punishment. You have been given a chance. A chance for both you and Fannin.”
I stared at the ghostly figure, not sure who I am speaking to. However, I knew his words were true.
“
This group is only a scout, sent by Santa Anna to test the vigilance of the Texans. No one in San Antonio has taken notice that they are here. They have recently received a dispatch from General Woll who is being sent by Santa Ann to reclaim Texas for Mexico.”
“
Should I alert those in the city about this?”
“
No!” The figure paused, his features becoming more distinct—but still not identifiable as any particular defender. “We want them to report that Texas is open and vulnerable to attack. We want them to try to invade. We want them to learn a lesson they will never forget so they will leave Texas alone.”
“
What are my orders?”
“
Return to Goliad and tell Fannin to bring his troops to Salado Creek. These men are leaving tomorrow and shortly after the return, another force will attempt to invade Texas. The Texas Army will be able to intercept them at Salado Creek, but they will need help. We will muster as many of those who defended the Alamo as we can who have not gone on to their rest, you will muster Fannin and others will muster those they can who fell at San Jacinto.” The spirit started to fade then seemed to solidify again. “Tell Fannin we have put all blame and egos aside. We must all stand together or Texas will lose all we died for.”
I salute the spirit who fades away along with the remaining walls of the Alamo. I find myself back on the bridge, my horse standing there, waiting for me, ready for the ride back to Goliad. The quarter moon is high in the night sky, though the light is muted by a thin layer of clouds. The diffuse light creates a ring around the moon and a single star shines within the ring. The Lone Star of Texas. It is a good omen.
I pull my horse up before the doors of Fort Defiance. The air still holds the odor of smoldering fires and burnt flesh where the Mexican army burned the bodies of Colonel Fannin and his men. When we were alive the ride between San Antonio and Goliad would have taken over a day. But now, as spirits bound to this place as well as the Alamo, it seems only seconds have passed. A quick glance at the haloed moon confirms it hasn’t moved.
As I dismount, several ghostly figures form in front of the doors. Colonel Fannin steps forward from the group.
“
Rider?”
“
I’ve just returned from the Alamo and your troops are needed in San Antonio to defend Texas.”
“
We did our duty long ago and this was our reward.” Fannin gestured to the spirits of his men and the still smoldering fires. “We were prepared to do our duty to Texas, but we received conflicting orders from those playing political games. Go to the Alamo, return to Goliad, send men to Refugio, retreat to Victoria. In the end, all we succeeded in doing was being massacred.”
“
I was told to tell you: We have put all blame and egos aside. We must all stand together or Texas will lose all we died for.”
I watch as Fannin stepped back and talked to his men then the group faded from site. “Damn.” I turn back to my horse and start to mount, even if Fannin and his men won’t come with me, I will return to San Antonio to defend Texas.
My horse neighs and bobs his head toward the doors of the Fort. There, slowly solidifying with their weapons in hand are Fannin’s troops. “We will answer the call,” Fannin said.
The sounds of battle fill the air and fog surrounds us and we find ourselves standing in a copse of trees near a creek. On one side of the creek, holding the elevated ground is a small group of Texas militia. On our side are the troops of the Mexican army; at least one thousand men plus artillery.
There are several casualties among the Mexican troops and they are realigning their remaining troops and fortifying their position. With their numbers, even with the Texas militia having the superior position, they will eventually be able to defeat the defenders. That is; unless we do something to prevent it.
There is a stirring in the air, as if lightening had struck nearby. Looking around I see more spirits appearing in the area. Men I recognize from the Alamo and others that would have been with Houston.
“
Touch them,” I call out. “You can draw enough strength from a person for them to see you.” I touch the man I am standing next to feeling his strength flow into me. As I glance at him, I realize it is the same man I spoke to in the Alamo, Paz he was called.
His eyes go wide, but doesn’t have the same sense of fear that he had before. Instead he nods his head slightly. “You and the other spirits wish us to leave Texas.”
“
We do.” I look around; many of the soldiers are starting to back away. The acrid scent of their fear is strong. Near the back of the army and forcing his way through is a man on a horse. Another rider, next to him, carries the army’s banner. This must be General Woll. He is calling orders—not yelling but speaking loudly, clearly and with authority. The soldiers are starting to regroup, their fear replaced by their discipline and respect for their general.
Another volley of shots rings out and several more of the soldiers fall. “Go,” I say. “Leave this place.”
Paz shakes his head and drops his gaze away from me. “I have my duty.”
“
And we have ours.” I pull my hand away and move to where more of the spirits are gathering. There is something calling me and I feel the power growing in the area.
Six spirits appear between the soldiers and the creek, each one holding flaming swords. “Diablo’s!” The name ripples through the soldiers as many of them drop to their knees and cross themselves. I look around for Paz, he is also kneeling, but it is not from fear—there is a sense of reverence and awe surrounding him. Perhaps he understands why we are here, why we are still fighting, why independence and freedom are so important.
More soldiers fall, but there were no shots fired from the Texas Militia. Behind the six spirits with the swords, another figure appears; this one larger and also holding a flaming sword. He assumes a defensive position before the members of the Texas Militia; his meaning clear: He will defend these men from all attacks.
The general rides forward, his own sword drawn. The soldiers hesitate, but do follow him forward.
A ball of flame strikes the ground in front of the general’s horse and it rears up. General Woll stay in the saddle and calms the horse enough to move forward again. Another ball of flame.
“
General Woll,” a voice says and echoes in the valley. “Too much blood has already been spilled and we have no desire to see more spilled. However, be warned, we will continue to defend Texas and her freedom. Leave now and you will be allowed to go in peace. Continue this invasion and you will lose. Texas no longer belongs to President Santa Anna or Mexico.
