The Black Jacks Read online

  "Touché," said Singletary, then he bowed stiffly and left the veranda, followed by the Texas Ranger.

  "Bravo, John Henry," said Tice. "Admirable restraint. I expected Singletary to come calling eventually, and I was afraid of what you meant to do to him. He's got plenty of nerve, you have to give him that."

  "I've had time to think on it," said McAllen, reaching for the leatherbound copy of the The Iliad which lay on a small wrought-iron table between their chairs. "I cannot kill a man for telling the truth. Singletary's death would not erase the shame. And besides, the Old Chief would not approve, would he? Texas is in mortal danger. Personal problems can wait."

  Vastly relieved, Tice nodded. Then, as McAllen opened the book, Tice saw the wildflower that had been pressed between the pages of Homer's classic.

  "A token of admiration from a secret admirer?" asked the physician.

  "Just a bookmark."

  "Curious," murmured Tice. For some reason he thought of Emily Torrance. "Curious."

  Chapter Six

  When Tall Horses found Gray Wolf, the war chief was in his tepee, having just finished a meal of mush made from mesquite beans, buffalo marrow, and bee honey. It was Comanche custom to eat a light meal early in the day, with a heavier meal to follow in the evening, and usually Gray Wolf had a healthy appetite. His pretty wife, Snow Dancer, was a good cook, and she knew what pleased his palate most—her husband was especially fond of raw liver flavored with the contents of the deer or buffalo gallbladder, and the curdled milk taken from the stomach of a buffalo calf was a special treat.

  Today, though, Gray Wolf barely tasted the savory mush. He ate only because he knew his body needed nourishment. He would be on the move all day, scouting far to the south and east. The nearest white settlement was less than two days' ride from this camp; the newest enemy of the Comanches—the Texan—was too close for comfort.

  Tall Horses was a young warrior, and he stood in awe of Gray Wolf, who, though only a few years older than he, had already proven himself to be one of the greatest fighters of the Quohadi, or Antelope band. This was why Gray Wolf had become one the band's war chiefs. Though young, he was wise beyond his years. And, though a war chief, he was one of the leading proponents of peace.

  "Gray Wolf," said Tall Horses, dropping to one knee just inside the tepee's entrance, "Maguara has summoned the council."

  Gray Wolf nodded. He was not a member of the council—that distinction was reserved for the old patriarchs—but as a distinguished war leader his opinion was sometimes sought, since the council always pursued unanimity in its decisions.

  Tall Horses glanced at Snow Dancer, who sat in the back shadows of the skin lodge on a buffalo robe, nursing her ten-month-old son. Her dark eyes were troubled, reflecting the disquiet in the young warrior's own soul. He turned his attention back to Gray Wolf and found the war chief gazing at him intently.

  "Speak your mind, Tall Horses."

  "There are many who do not trust the Texans. They will try to persuade the council not to go to Bexar." He knew San Antonio only by its old Mexican name.

  "You do not think we should make peace with the whites?"

  Tall Horses was not shy about making his feelings known. All that Comanche etiquette required of him was to wait for Gray Wolf to ask his opinion. Every male who had returned from his first war party was entitled to have his say. Among Comanches, individual independence in thought and action was encouraged.

  "The white man cannot be trusted. If he gives his word at Bexar he will not keep it. The one called Houston is no longer their chief. Now there is this one called Lamar, who wants to destroy us."

  Gray Wolf smiled grimly. "Many have tried to destroy the Comanches before. The Apaches have tried. The Spaniards and then the Mexicans. But all have failed. We survive. Go tell Maguara that Gray Wolf will be present at the council."

  After Tall Horses had left the tepee, Gray Wolf stood and glanced at his wife. "You do not think we should go to Bexar, either," he said.

  "It is not my place to say," replied Snow Dancer. But he had always encouraged her to speak frankly, and having paid lip service to tradition, she proceeded to voice her opinion. "I agree with Tall Horses, but for a different reason. The Texans will not make peace with us, so it does not matter that they cannot be trusted to keep their word."

  "If they do not want peace, then why have they asked us to come to Bexar?"

  "It is a trap. They intend to kill us all. Besides, we asked for peace, for a boundary, and they said they would not talk until all the white captives held by the Comanches were brought in. The Quohadi have no white captives. We live too far away to raid the white settlements. For this reason we should not go to Bexar at all."

  Gray Wolf stared at his infant son, snug in his papoose, nuzzling the milk-gorged breast of his wife, and felt a keen anxiety. "I will not let anything happen to you or our son," he said softly. "You know that I keep my promises."

  Her smile was wan. Gray Wolf was a tall, broad-shouldered, exceedingly handsome man, and she loved him more than life itself, and wondered what she would do if she lost him. "I know you will try, my husband."

  He kissed her on top of the head. Lately she had been so grave. What had happened to the carefree girl he had married only two summers ago? He remembered that night, after he had returned from his first war party and had distinguished himself by his valor against the Utes, when she had slipped into his tepee and introduced him to the pleasures of lovemaking. Among the Comanches, it was a quite common practice for the girl to make the advances. From that moment on Gray Wolf had eyes for no one else, though he was so good-looking and brave and full of promise that all the maidens in the Antelope Band had vied for his attention. His happiest day had come, nearly a year later, when he took a splendid stallion laden with buffalo robes to Snow Dancer's father, who had silently driven the animal in with his own ponies, in this way signifying his approval of the marriage of his daughter to this bold young warrior.

  It was the responsibility of the son-in-law to provide his wife's parents with meat, but in Gray Wolf's case that was no burden, as he was as skilled at hunting as he was in war. And he was fortunate in that Snow Dancer's younger sister was already married, since otherwise he would have had to take her as his wife, also. That was just as well, because Gray Wolf realized he would never love another with the depth of feeling he had for Snow Dancer, and he knew she felt the same way about him. Gray Wolf's love for her was so strong that he refused to lend her to his brother, Running Dog, even though it was customary to do so and Running Dog had long desired Snow Dancer. Brothers were not supposed to exhibit sexual jealousy, and it was perfectly normal for a man to sleep with his brother's wife when the latter was on the warpath. After all, Running Dog would oe obliged to take Snow Dancer into his tepee if anything happened to Gray Wolf. But Snow Dancer did not want to lay with Running Dog, and Gray Wolf could not bear to think of them together. He was Snow Dancer's love for life and she, likewise, was his. This had caused bad feeling between Gray Wolf and his brother, but some things could not be helped.

  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 Repu
blic 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."