The Black Jacks (8 page)

Leaving his tepee, Gray Wolf paused to take a slow look around. He carried his bow of seasoned Osage orange, a quiver of dogwood arrows, and a bison-hide shield. A warrior did not venture from his skin lodge unarmed when the enemy was so near. Gray Wolf's shield was decorated with bear's teeth, signifying his attributes as a hunter, with horse tails to herald his prowess as a raider, and, in addition, was adorned with several Ute and Apache scalps and a circle of feathers around the rim. A war club depended by a thong from his wrist. He wore beaded moccasins, fringed deerskin leggings, and a red breechcloth. His hair was parted in the middle and braided on the sides, the braids wrapped in fur. A yellow hawk's feather dangled from his scalplock.

The Quohadi had encamped on the upper Brazos, less than a hundred miles northwest of Torrey's Trading Post and the town of Bucksnort, beyond the Cross Timbers—that north-south band of ancient pine forest—from the major settlements of the Republic of Texas. The normal range of the Antelope Band was far to the west, and so they, of all the Comanche bands, had tangled least with the Texans. A dozen times Gray Wolf had fought the Utes, who feared the Quohadi and called them the
komantcia
—"enemy"—from which the white man had coined the name Comanche. But, unlike the warriors of the Penatekas, the Tanimas, and the Tanawas, Gray Wolf had yet to raise a hand in anger against the whites. He hoped he would never have to.

All along the river more than a hundred tepees had been erected beneath the bright green willows and dusty gray cottonwoods. The larger skin lodges of the old patriarchs stood nearby, and Gray Wolf bent his steps in that direction.

The council was about to get under way, and many of the Quohadis had congregated to listen to the leaders of the Antelope band, as was their right. The crowd parted respectfully to let Gray Wolf pass, and he took his place among the young war chiefs in the circle of council members in front of the tepee of Maguara, the principle chief of the Quohadis.

Maguara rose to speak first. He was obliged to explain why he had called the council. He reviewed what had gone before: how the Texans had met with chiefs of the Penateka band a year ago, and rejected the Penateka request for the establishment of a boundary between the settlers and the Comanches—a boundary initially proposed by the old chief of the whites, the one the Cherokees called The Raven, who was no longer in power. But the Texans had suggested another meeting, this one to be attended by representatives from all the Comanche bands. As a demonstration of good faith, the Comanches were to turn over all their white captives. Texas agents had circulated among all the bands, and the Comanches had listened to what they had to say. Any man, even a Texan, who came into a Comanche camp to talk peace was safe.

So the Quohadis had come to this place on the upper Brazos—not all of them, only the chiefs and sixty warriors, many with their families. Yet now that the meeting with the Texans was imminent, doubts had been raised about the wisdom of going through with it. Maguara had summoned this council in the hope that these differences could be worked out.

The old chiefs spoke first. Although they were known as the peace chiefs, not all of them were keen on making a peace treaty with the Texans. A couple believed that the best way for the Quohadis to keep the peace with the whites was to go back to the Llano Estacado and mind their own business. This would not do, argued others who took a broader view. What of the other bands who ranged much closer to the settlements of the Texans? Unless a boundary could be established and peace maintained, the Texans would continue to spread ever deeper into Comanche land, and soon they would reach even the Staked Plain, and then the Quohadis would no longer be able to ignore the problem. No, it was better to treat with the Texans now, before they began to invade the traditional range of the Quohadis.

Next it was the turn of the young war chiefs to speak, if they chose to do so. Two Eagles stood and addressed the council. He reiterated the apprehensions Tall Horses had earlier expressed to Gray Wolf. The Texans could not be trusted. Even if they gave their word they would not keep it. Look at what had happened to the Cherokees. They had agreed to a treaty of peace with the whites, and now the whites had attacked them and burned their lodges and driven them from their land.

When Two Eagles finished, Maguara's old eyes fastened expectantly on Gray Wolf, who rose to address the council.

"The Cherokees were the first to break their word," said Gray Wolf. "They made a pact with the Mexicans in which they promised to make war against the Texans. When they did that, did they not become the enemies of Texas? And does not Texas have the right to drive its enemies from its borders? Gray Wolf does not think it is fair to blame the Texans for what happened. The Cherokees brought it on themselves.

"Besides, we are Comanches, not Cherokees. There are many more of us, and we are better fighters. The Texans know this is true. They cannot drive us off our land so easily. And they cannot fight us and the Mexicans at the same time. There will be another war between the Texans and the Mexicans. We all know this is going to happen. The Texans have good reasons for seeking a peace with the Comanches.

"They want us to surrender our white captives before they will consent to sit down and talk peace. Who can blame them for that? The Penatekas and the Tanawas have been raiding their farms and villages for years. They have killed many Texans and taken many captives. Their young braves prove themselves in this way. Some of us do not trust the Texans. But tell me why they should trust us?

"The Quohadis have no white captives to surrender. We have never raided a Texas farm or village. We live too far away to do so even if we wanted to. So that condition is no hardship on us. And if we go in force into Bexar, the Texans will not dare attack us. Gray Wolf is a war chief of the Quohadis. He does not fear the Texans. But he does not want to war against them. The Quohadis are fighting the Utes and the Mescalero Apaches to the west. How can we continue to protect our villages from those enemies if we are fighting a new enemy in the east? It is in our best interests, too, to try to make a peace. Perhaps we will fail. But Gray Wolf is convinced we must try."

He sat down. Two Eagles shot to his feet again. "If we go into Bexar, we must not take our women and children. Two Eagles will not put his family in danger."

Gray Wolf got back up. "If we leave our women and children behind, the Texans will think we have come to fight, not talk. We must take the risk. We do not have to take our families into Bexar, but we must bring them to a camp near the town."

Maguara nodded. It was time for the council to make a decision. One by one, the council members were asked if they wished to continue to Bexar. All of the peace chiefs voted to proceed. Gray Wolf's well-reasoned arguments had swayed those who doubted the wisdom of going on. The war chiefs were not asked to vote. They could speak in council, but the old patriarchs were the ones who had to decide.

Gray Wolf was troubled as the crowd dispersed and he returned to his tepee. Immersed in thought, he walked slowly, his head down. What if Snow Dancer was right? What if they
were
being lured into a trap? Then he, Gray Wolf, would have sacrificed his wife and son on the altar of his convictions.

Chapter Seven

McAllen, Dr. Tice, and Joshua arrived in San Antonio three days before the peace talks were scheduled and two days before the first Comanches appeared.

The mission San Antonio de Valero had been established here in 1718, and by 1773 San Antonio de Bexar, the village which had grown up around the mission, became the official seat of Spanish government in Texas. Nestled in a bend of the river that bore the same name, the village of San Antonio had a population of twenty-five hundred on the eve of the Texas Revolution. Most of its buildings were constructed of adobe or stone and mortar, and were built in the flat-roofed Mexican style.

It was here, at the mission called the Alamo, that two hundred men under the joint command of William Barret Travis, Jim Bowie, and Davy Crockett had delayed Santa Anna for thirteen precious days, holding out against a vastly superior Mexican army. The defenders of the Alamo had stood their ground and perished like the Spartans at Thermopylae. A charred ruin now, the mission was still, and always would be, a shrine for Texans, for in those thirteen days Sam Houston had gathered together a force sufficient to defeat Santa Anna a few weeks later and win independence for Texas.

Yancey Torrance had preceded them to San Antonio, and there were rooms reserved for them at a hotel near the main aqueduct, just off Calle Dolorosa, the Street of Sorrow, and an arrow's flight from the Plaza de Armes, near which stood the old governor's palace and the Council House.

Tension was running high in San Antonio, reported Yancey. Expecting the Comanches to bring in their white captives, dozens of people from all along the frontier who believed their loved ones had been carried off in a raid were flocking to town. They were full of hope as well as anger.

"I talked to the town sheriff," said Yancey. "Asked him if he was taking on any extra help, just in case. He said he wasn't. No need, since there was going to be two companies of Rangers here to keep the peace."

"The fool," said Tice, chewing on the tip of his corncob pipe. "Keeping the peace is not what Rangers do."

McAllen spent nearly every daylight hour roaming the streets, with Joshua his constant shadow, imprinting the layout of the town on his mind, for he had visited San Antonio only once before, and then briefly, and was not familiar with it. He prowled from the Santo Campo Cemetery at the western end of town to the La Villita in the east, and all the way north to the Old Mill. The Ranger company commanded by Henry Karnes was already in place, and McAllen ran into Rangers at every turn. He was well known, and before long Colonel Karnes had tracked him down. In asking what had brought him to San Antonio, Karnes was cordial enough, and McAllen gave him a straight answer.

"Sam Houston sent me."

Karnes nodded. "Thanks for being honest with me. Captain Wingate sent word to keep an eye peeled for you and your crew."

"I'm just here to help."

Karnes had the look of a man who hadn't slept in a week. "I feel like a feller tied to a keg of black powder in the middle of a burning house, Captain," he admitted.

"Any chance of me getting into the Council House?"

"I doubt it. Morris and Wingate will be running the show for the president, and they just flat out don't like you. I'll see what I can do, but don't expect miracles."

The next morning, news of the Comanche arrival spread like wildfire. McAllen saddled Escatawpa and rode north to see for himself. Overnight, a hundred tepees had sprung up a mile along the river from the Old Mill. Though he did not venture too near, the Comanches spotted him. But they did not ride out to challenge him.

Returning to the hotel, he told the anxious Dr. Tice and Yancey what he had seen. "Just one band," he said. "Maybe three hundred, with the women and children included. I think they're Quohadis."

"Way those first riders sounded, you'd have thought the whole Comanche nation was out yonder," said Yancey.

"Well," Tice said with a sigh, "all I can say is, God help us all if this goes awry."

That same afternoon, John Morris arrived from Austin with Captain Wingate's company of Texas Rangers. Another large group of Comanches had appeared by this time, but McAllen could not now go see for himself, as Karnes had thrown a cordon of Rangers across the north end of San Antonio. It wasn't the Comanches that worried the colonel; he was afraid some Texas hotspurs might try to ride out to the Indian encampment and start a scrape.

The Comanches sent three runners into town to confer with John Morris. A mestizo who had himself been a captive of the Comanches for a dozen years and who was attached to Karnes's Ranger company, acted as interpreter. Morris learned that only the Tanawas and the Quohadis had arrived, but the Comanche envoys were confident that other bands would show up by the morrow. When asked if the white captives had been brought along, the runners said that all whites in Comanche possession would be delivered. Encouraged, Morris made arrangements for the Comanche entry into San Antonio in the morning. Since the presence of hundreds of Indians on the outskirts of town was making the local populace very anxious, only thirty chiefs would be permitted to enter the town.

That evening, San Antonio was unusually subdued. The cantinas, where on any other night one could find a lively fandango in progress, were virtually empty. Steely-eyed Rangers patrolled the dark streets in pairs.

A premonition of disaster prevented John Henry McAllen from sleeping well. He was up before dawn. Even so, by the time he and Tice and Yancey and Joshua had reached the Plaza de Armes, a substantial crowd had already gathered. The vast majority were men who, if they had families, had locked them safely in their houses. All of them were armed. More than ever, McAllen was struck by the unreasonable nature of the task Sam Houston had set for him. How could he prevent an eruption of violence if it was in the cards?

Yancey's thoughts were traveling the same path. "Maybe we should have brought everybody," he told McAllen, meaning the whole company of Black Jacks. "What do you want we should do, John Henry?"

"Split up. Mingle with the crowd. Keep your eyes open. If you see trouble starting, try to nip it in the bud. If there is any shooting, though, get out of the way."

Less than an hour later the Comanches arrived. It was odd, mused McAllen, to see these fierce warriors on their painted ponies filing down the street in all their untamed glory, flanked by Texas Rangers. By the time this procession reached the Council House, a long low stone building fronted by an arched gallery, McAllen had worked his way near the front of the ominously silent crowd of armed men. He spotted John Morris in his black broadcloth standing with Eli Wingate, the town sheriff, and Indian agent Robert Owen, in the shade of the Council House gallery.