{"id":7274,"date":"2011-10-20T11:43:19","date_gmt":"2011-10-20T17:43:19","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.ncobrief.com\/index.php\/archives\/a-taste-of-the-next-book\/"},"modified":"2011-10-20T11:44:00","modified_gmt":"2011-10-20T17:44:00","slug":"a-taste-of-the-next-book","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/ncobrief.com\/index.php\/archives\/a-taste-of-the-next-book\/","title":{"rendered":"A Taste of the Next Book"},"content":{"rendered":"

(For your enjoyment – a selected chapter from Deep in the Heart – the soon-to-be-released sequel to Daughter of Texas. Advance orders for autographed copies are being taken now, through my website catalog page, here<\/a>. and for the print second edition of To Truckee’s Trail. Purchased copies will be mailed out by November 15th. My books now are being published through Watercress Press, rather than Booklocker, so I am working very hard to get them switched over, and to have mybacklist available in print editions once more. For now, it’s only the Complete Trilogy, and Daughter of Texas, so any purchases directly from me will help!)<\/em><\/p>\n

Chapter 19 \u00e2\u20ac\u201c The Last of the Lone Star<\/strong><\/p>\n

In the morning, Margaret rose at the usual hour, when the sky had just begun to pale in the east, and it was yet too early for the rooster to begin setting up a ruckus in the chicken pen. She had a house full of guests, even though most of them had not spent the night. One of the last things that Hetty had done before retiring for the night was to have Mose move the dining table back into the room where it normally resided, and return all the household chairs to their usual places. Margaret viewed the now-empty hall with a sigh, for the temporary glory that it had housed on the previous day \u00e2\u20ac\u201c now, to see to breakfast for those guests who had remained. That breakfast should be every bit as good as the supper on Christmas night \u00e2\u20ac\u201c for Margaret would not allow any diminution of her hospitality. She tied on her kitchen apron and walked into the kitchen, where she halted just inside the door, arrested by the expressions on the faces of the three within. Hetty bristled with unspoken irritation, even as she paused in rolling out the dough for the first batch of breakfast biscuits, Mose \u00e2\u20ac\u201c who stood by the stove with an empty metal hot-water canister in each of his huge hands \u00e2\u20ac\u201c had a nervous and apprehensive expression on his dark and usually uncommunicative face. Carl sat at the end of the kitchen table, interrupted in the act of wolfing down a plate of bacon, sausage and hash made from the leftovers of last night\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s feast. He looked nearly as nervous as Mose, and his expression \u00e2\u20ac\u201c especially as Margaret appeared in the doorway \u00e2\u20ac\u201c appeared to be as guilty as a small child caught in the midst of some awful mischief, mischief for which he was certain to be punished.
\n
\nMargaret took in each countenance in a lighting-flash, apprehended that something had happened in her household, and demanded, \u00e2\u20ac\u0153What is the matter, then?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n

Mose answered, in his thick and barely articulate mumble, \u00e2\u20ac\u0153I took de hot watter to de gennelmun rooms, mam . . . an\u00e2\u20ac\u2122 de Gen\u00e2\u20ac\u2122ral, he still \u00e2\u20ac\u02dcsleep, mam . . . but he don\u00e2\u20ac\u2122 chop down de bedpos\u00e2\u20ac\u2122, mam.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153What?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Margaret demanded, and Mose only looked more stolid. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153He chop down de bedpos\u00e2\u20ac\u2122, mam. Gen\u00e2\u20ac\u2122ral Sam,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d as Carl said, with an air of someone trying to placate an unappeasable fury, \u00e2\u20ac\u0153He took an ax to the bedposts, M\u00e2\u20ac\u2122grete. He . . . got a little merry last night, I guess \u00e2\u20ac\u201c after you had gone to bed. Some of the others . . . well, there was bottles bein\u00e2\u20ac\u2122 passed. I didn\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t think he would take to your best bedstead, though.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n

Hetty looked from Margaret\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s face to that of her brother, and the hapless Mose, and murmured, \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Mother Mary save him, she\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s got her Maeve face on, for certain.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153There wasn\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t anything I could do, M\u00e2\u20ac\u2122grete,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Carl temporized, even as Mose returned to filling the canisters from the hot water reservoir at the side of the vast cook stove. \u00e2\u20ac\u009dHe\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s the General. I did not think you would object to the men getting a little merry on Christmas. You had wine with dinner, after all, M\u00e2\u20ac\u2122grete.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153I do not object to the drinking of alcohol under my roof,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Margaret answered, in a voice tight with suppressed fury. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153I object when men drink of it to excess. And I object most strenuously to barbarous conduct, after they have drunk to excess. Little Brother, Mose. You may bring up the hot water later \u00e2\u20ac\u201c for a now, each of you fetch a bucket of cold . . . from the spring-house, please. . . . Then all of you come with me.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153I just put the biscuits in…\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Hetty began to protest, but Margaret cut her off with a few curt words, as Mose and Carl obeyed. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153This will not take a moment.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n

The heels of Margaret shoes made a brisk tattoo on the floor, echoing in the hall as she swept imperiously up the staircase, in her fury outdistancing all of her acolytes. At the top of the stairs, the door to the best guest room stood slightly ajar: Mose had not closed it entirely on his departure. Margaret waited for the two men to climb the stairs, Hetty puffing in their wake. She took a deep breath, Mose\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s words having prepared her for the worst. Well, now she knew why she had dreamed of someone chopping wood during the night. She opened the door all the way; oh, no. The room smelt faintly of stale drink, underlaid with odor of sweat and male toiletries. The slave man\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s words and her own imagination had not prepared her for what she now saw. General Sam lay snoring in the middle of the bed, on top of the counterpane with his boots and coat cast carelessly aside on the floor amid splinters and roughly-hacked chunks of cherry-wood. All four of the tall and gracefully carved bedposts were roughly hewn down, almost level with the head and footboard. Margaret felt sickened by the intensity of her anger: her best bed, purchased at such a cost, from the earnings of hers and Hetty\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s labor \u00e2\u20ac\u201c a beautifully-wrought and cherished thing, deliberately mutilated. Behind her, Hetty gasped, horrified alike. They had both taken such pride in the new furniture, in the look of their best guest room. Now, Margaret was certain she would never look at it again, in quite the same way, now that it had been so desecrated.<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Carlchen,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d she said, and her voice shook. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153And Mose. I want you to waken the General with the cold water. And once he is awake, assist him in resuming his clothing. Assemble his luggage, too. Carlchen, you will see him conveyed to Mrs. Eberly\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s without delay.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Carl hesitated, and Mose looked between them, and to the ruined bed with General Sam snoring in deep sleep.<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153B\u00e2\u20ac\u2122foa breakfast?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Mose ventured, and Margaret snapped.<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Yes. The water, Carlchen \u00e2\u20ac\u201c it is how one rouses drunks, is it not?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Shrugging, Carl carried his bucket to one side of the bed, Mose to the other. They hoisted the buckets to chest-level, poised to pour them out onto the sleeping General Sam, while Margaret watched, hawk-eyed. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Now!\u00e2\u20ac\u009d <\/p>\n

Shrugging, Carl emptied the bucket, Mose doing so a split-second later. Margaret turned on her heel, as General Sam bolted upright with a bellow. The very satisfactory sounds of sputtering and curses followed her down the stairs, Hetty fairly running in order to keep up. Margaret thought that Hetty once or twice thought to speak, but thought better of it. The two girls who assisted with the kitchen and the table were in the kitchen when they returned \u00e2\u20ac\u201c no, they did not dare to speak, either, once they had glimpsed her face.<\/p>\n

Having seen breakfast preparations completed, Margaret withdrew to the private sitting room, simmering with such anger that she did not entirely trust herself not to give way to an unladylike fit of temper in the presence of her guests or the kitchen help. Her pride with last night\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s triumph had turned to ashes, ashes, dust and chips of wood, scattered on the floor of her best guest room. Presently, Hetty tapped respectfully on the doorjamb and put her head into the room.<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Marm . . . are you not going to take breakfast, as usual?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153I think not, Hetty. I am not . . . in a cordial mood this morning.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153I should think not,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Hetty shook her head. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Aye, well. Your Maeve-face, Marm, is something that would curdle the digestion of an innocent man, so it\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s for the best, not presiding over the table this morning . . . though I will say that if the Young Sir was right wi\u00e2\u20ac\u2122 regard to th\u00e2\u20ac\u2122 gentlemen bein\u00e2\u20ac\u2122 merry last night, some of them may have a curdled digestion this morning anyway. I\u00e2\u20ac\u2122ll bring a tray for you.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Thank you, Hetty,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Margaret said, not for the first time grateful for Hetty\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s friendship and support of her. What a lonely prospect this enterprise of hers would have been, without Hetty, her friend and good right arm these years past!<\/p>\n

Presently, Hetty brought her a tray, beautifully set with a plate of food; biscuits with a dab of preserves, another of fresh butter, and a little dish of honey, some scrambled egg and a pat of sausage, spiced and fried to crispy goodness. Margaret ate all of it, although she was not particularly hungry. If she did not clean the plate, then Hetty would notice and feel something of hurt, although every bit of it was as flavorful and expertly cooked, just as Margaret had always required. As she was buttering the last biscuit-half, she heard the rumble of a deep male voice, speaking from somewhere beyond the turns in the corridor that enlarging Alois Becker\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s simple log blockhouse had made inevitable. It sounded like General Sam\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s voice. Margaret chewed and swallowed that last bite of biscuit, just as Hetty and her brother appeared in the doorway. Both of them appeared rather apprehensive.<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Th\u00e2\u20ac\u2122 General, he wishes a word w\u00e2\u20ac\u2122ye, Marm.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Hetty was twisting her hand in a damp dishtowel. Obviously, she had been interrupted in sorting out the influx of dirty dishes, mid-breakfast. Carl had nothing in his hands, yet he looked equally as unsettled, as he ventured,<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153M\u00e2\u20ac\u2122grete, I think he wishes to tender an apology . . . \u00e2\u20ac\u0153<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153As well he might,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Margaret answered crisply. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153For he is a great man, of which better conduct might have been expected . . . and his wife is a dear friend, who will be most cruelly disappointed to hear of his abuse of the hospitality of my house. Say to the General . . . that I am most disappointed. Say to him also, that I am so distressed with anger, that I do not trust myself to be courteous with regard to this incident. I fear that anything I might say with regard to this unfortunate occurrence will spell ruin to our friendship, a mutual friendship and regard which I have treasured for many years \u00e2\u20ac\u201c so I will not receive him. Leave him to tender his apology to me through you. Assure him that at some time in the future, I will welcome him to my house again . . . but not at present. And if you would remind him,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Margaret added, as Hetty and Carl exchanged looks of apprehension, \u00e2\u20ac\u0153of a piece of advice which he once rendered to me, regarding silence giving no purchase to gossiping tongues \u00e2\u20ac\u201c I will be most grateful.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Yes, Marm,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Hetty answered, although she did not look happy at having to bear such a stern message to the General.<\/p>\n

Carl hesitated for a moment, as the door closed behind Hetty. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153I\u00e2\u20ac\u2122m real sorry about the bed, M\u00e2\u20ac\u2122grete,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d he ventured at last. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153I don\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t reckon there is any way to fix it back.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153No,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Margaret answered. She had not thought about what she would do about the bed. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153If you would, Carlchen \u00e2\u20ac\u201c take the bed apart, and put the pieces in the barn.Hurst is a fair carpenter; I will ask him what he might be able to do upon his return. I am certain that General Sam is ready to depart now.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n

With that, Carl nodded, and left the little parlor. Margaret contemplated the remains of her breakfast, wondering how it could be that every man whom she loved, cared for or respected had let her down in one way or another, beginning with her husband, and the wife that he had left in Boston. Papa, ridden and haunted by his foul temper. Carl, away in the Llano, leaving all the business of life for her to see to. Seamus O\u00e2\u20ac\u2122Doyle had left, and so had the Englishman, Mr. Hattersley \u00e2\u20ac\u201c he who had only come toTexasto write his vile little book, feigning friendship all the while. And now General Sam had smashed the best bed. Were there no men in her life worthy of her deepest trust at all?<\/p>\n

Although Margaret vowed to herself \u00e2\u20ac\u201c and to Hetty that she would say no word of the matter of the wrecked bed \u00e2\u20ac\u201c it was too delicious a morsel for the gossips to allow it to remain untouched, even while preparations went forward in the weeks after Christmas for the formal annexation to theUnited States. During that time, Margaret and General Sam encountered each other, making nothing more than a show of careful courtesy. Only Mrs. Eberly dared ask Margaret outright for the particulars, to which Margaret responded, \u00e2\u20ac\u0153For the respect in which I hold the General and the friendship I have with Mrs. Houston, I do not care to discuss it.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n

In January, Carl received a message from Bexar, and departed. Margaret could not contain her disappointment: he had never remained so long before, nearly two months, and she had begun to believe that perhaps her brother might yet be looking kindly upon settling down. But no \u00e2\u20ac\u201c not if the failure of Mr. Slidell\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s mission to Mexico was any indication, and in far California, American settlers there were restive against the Mexican government of that place.<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Looks like it will be heating up again,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Carl explained laconically, as Margaret filled his haversack with bread, and cured sausage, and as many of last seasons\u00e2\u20ac\u2122 apples as she could fit. The last of the harvest had been stored in barrels of sawdust in the coldest corner of the barn, and still retained much of their freshness. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Jack has been called to recruit a body to serve as scouts with the American Army. They say Gen\u00e2\u20ac\u2122ral Taylor is ordered to theNueces. His men won\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t know it the way the Rangers do, and that\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s for sure.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d He smiled, with an expression of deep contentment in his eyes. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Looks like we\u00e2\u20ac\u2122ll make ol\u00e2\u20ac\u2122 Santy Anna behave himself for good and all, this time.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Be careful,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Margaret said, aware of a feeling of helplessness; how many more times would her brother court death in the Llano, or in the Nueces borderlands and escape unscathed?<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153I always am, M\u00e2\u20ac\u2122grete,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d he answered. Margaret and the boys watched him go, from the deep gallery at the front of the house. He waved once, from the bottom of the hill, before spurring his ill-tempered grey horse into a trot on the road that led to the south.<\/p>\n

On a bright late-winter day, blessed with a fair sky and pure white clouds floating in it, Margaret, her sons, Hetty and all of her household gathered on the hillside below the white-washed capital building. They stood with hundreds of their neighbors and citizens gathered from across Texas for the formal ceremony to mark Annexation, men in their best jackets and top-hats, and so many ladies, their mantels and the ribbons of their bonnets fluttering. All had put on the very best of the garments they possessed, to mark this momentous day.<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153It has seemed so long-promised, that I cannot believe this day has come,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Margaret remarked. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Like a woman\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s wedding day, at long last!\u00e2\u20ac\u009d She and Hetty laughed, recalling how Margaret had likened the endless negotiations regarding annexing Texas to the United States to a flirtatious girl.<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Aye, but without the rejected suitor at the back of the church,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Hetty replied, comfortably.<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153The rejected suitor is all the way the other side of the Nueces and the Rio Grande,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Margaret observed, \u00e2\u20ac\u0153And with a regular Army to ensure that he stays there!\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n

She did not like to say any more on that subject, not to spoil her sons\u00e2\u20ac\u2122 pleasure in the day. There was the President, Dr. Jones, with General Sam and a whole host of important men on a platform erected in front of the capitol building porch, which made a splendid stage for what was to follow. The flag \u00e2\u20ac\u201c the three fields of red, blue and white, with a single five-pointed white star on the blue field snapped in the brisk wind. The staff from which it flew stood close to the porch, which was adorned with tri-colored bunting. Margaret\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s eyes rested briefly upon General Sam, who looked as happy as a bridegroom himself. No, he had long wanted Annexation, had schemed and negotiated for it for at least half of the eventful decade just past. Now their delivery was at hand, after ten years of intrigue, war and threats of war on two fronts. Margaret recollected the words of the old witch-woman spoken twenty years past, on the banks of the Sabine \u00e2\u20ac\u201c the day of her twelfth birthday, when Alois Becker and his family first arrived inTexas.<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153He in a big rush to be a Mexican\u00e2\u20ac\u00a6 don\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t he know dat America gwine follow him, no matter?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d The old woman had chuckled in rich amusement. She had looked at Margaret\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s palm, predicted that she would have two husbands and a large house, that the water would never harm Carlchen and would be his savior . . . and for their brother Rudy, the old witch had seen nothing but dark clouds like smoke surrounding him. For a long time she had wondered how the old witch woman had known such things about the future. The last but one of her predictions was about to come true: America had followed them, at long last. The future of Austin was secure as well, which was of no little relief to Margaret and Angelina Eberly: it would be the capitol of the state government, and the legislature would continue to meet at the accustomed interval.<\/p>\n

What with all the comings and goings over the last year, Margaret\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s enterprise had done well. As she stood among the crowd, with Peter\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s hand in hers, and Horace offering his elbow with all the hesitant gallantry of a young gentleman of fifteen, her thoughts began to wander; perhaps this summer would be a good time to add another wing to the house. A sawn-plank structure could be built with great rapidity, as she had seen . . . and she would certainly be able to fill the rooms. Why, she and Hetty had to turn away prospective boarders, after filling all the rooms with three and four gentleman guests to a room, which was not the kind of gracious hospitality that Margaret wished her house to be known for. And when had Horace grown so tall \u00e2\u20ac\u201c the top of his head was above the level of her shoulder?<\/p>\n

Her wandering mind was suddenly concentrated \u00e2\u20ac\u201c it seemed that the speeches were over, and the attention of the crowd was suddenly riveted as Dr. Jones stepped forward to the foot of the flagpole. He unwound the lines, stretched them out and began to lower away \u00e2\u20ac\u201c the proud single-star flag.<\/p>\n

In a loud voice, Dr. Jones declaimed, \u00e2\u20ac\u0153The final act in this great drama is now performed \u00e2\u20ac\u201c theRepublic of Texas is no more!\u00e2\u20ac\u009d A gasp swept the crowd, a murmuring almost of grief, and Margaret felt tears sting her eyelids. She had not expected this: that she and everyone would be so moved by the ending of their brief and desperate republic, born from the ashes of the fires of rebellion, the ashes of fires which had burned the body of her brother outside the Goliad citadel, the fires from the pyres set on the Alameda in Bexar to burn those fallen in the defense of the Alamo. Ten years, of war on two fronts, against a resentful, treacherous Mexico and the avaricious and brutal Comanche, ten years of steering an uncertain course in a leaking vessel between Scylla and Charybdis, seeking recognition from the great nations, and safety for her citizens, by their own efforts keep in tenuous safety and freedom . . . and now to arrive in that promised safe harbor.<\/p>\n

As the flag came down, it was General Sam, the architect of it all, who stepped forward \u00e2\u20ac\u201c perhaps on an impulse, and perhaps it had all been planned \u00e2\u20ac\u201c and gathered the folds of it into his arms, as if something that he cherished and wished no risk of harm. Margaret and her sons stood very close; she could see that General Sam was deeply moved. He was a terribly sentimental man, Margaret knew \u00e2\u20ac\u201c one of those who felt no shame in revealing strong emotion. He had held Sue Dickinson\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s hand, and wept as she told of what had happened in Bexar, on the evening that Gonzales burned and Margaret and her family and friends began their long retreat to the east. Now someone stepped forward with a new flag, many-striped in the same colors, with a constellation of twenty stars arrayed on the blue field, a flag which unfurled and snapped in the bright wind, the sound of it sounding so very loud in the murmuring silence.<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Mama, will we still be Texians, when we are Americans?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Horace asked in a low voice, and at her other side, her youngest piped up,<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153I\u00e2\u20ac\u2122d rather be a Texian!\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Yes, we will,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Margaret answered, feeling as of her throat were to close on her voice. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153We will always remember what it is to be Texians; that we were here and held our own for ten long years.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n

She hosted a gala at-home that night, at which Dr. Anson and the General did make brief appearances, for there were many celebrations going on inAustin; a chance to celebrate before picking up one last burden. It now appeared that war was inevitable with Mexico, yet again \u00e2\u20ac\u201c but at least this time, they would not be fighting it alone. This cheered Margaret immensely, but did not in the least relieve her apprehensions regarding her brother. Almost as soon as the celebrations were done, she set about planning the new addition: a long wing of six rooms on the ground floor with a corridor between, and three adjoining larger rooms above, the ground floor to be surrounded on three sides by a deep porch. All the ground-floor rooms would have tall French-style glass windows, some of them opening as doors onto the porch. The roof overhead would provide shade on the hottest summer days, the windows would admit the slightest passing breeze, and the best of them a view of the apple trees and the town below. This work provided a welcome distraction: for when she was thinking of the best disposition of fireplaces within the rooms, the efficient draft of chimneys, and where to procure good hardware for the doors and glass for the many windows, she was not worrying about Carl, or such of her other friends and acquaintances when the fighting began in earnest, in mid-summer.<\/p>\n

John Ford\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s wife became ill at about that time, although Louisa Ford had been in uncertain health for many months. It wrung Margaret\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s heart to witness John Ford\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s concern for his wife, and his increasing distress as his medical arts proved fruitless to arrest Louisa\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s decline. Another reason for Margaret to spend buried in the plans and the unfolding of the new wing of the house \u00e2\u20ac\u201c a diversion from cares and worry, while soldiers and statesmen came and went. So the nervous summer of 1846 passed, broken only by a brief coda to the heartbreak of Mrs. Simpson and her lost children. On a mid-afternoon in early summer, a small party of horsemen came to the back of the house, where now besides the smokehouse and the spring-house, there was a newly-enlarged stable, a new summer kitchen and three little cabins to house the Negro attendants of her guests. At first Margaret thought the horsemen were more workmen arrived, to begin shingling the roof of the new wing, which had already arisen in skeletal timber form to that side of the house which overlooked the river, and which Margaret had decreed would have the best views and the best chances of catching the lightest breath of a breeze on a hot summer day. Hetty came rustling to fetch Margaret from the private parlor and schoolroom, where her sons were having their daily lessons.<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Marm,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Hetty whispered, \u00e2\u20ac\u0153It\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s young Mr. Simpson \u00e2\u20ac\u201c from Bastrop, with Tommy, him who was taken nearly two year ago. They have a party of men with them, now . . . to follow the trail along of where himself and Emma were taken.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Oh, my God!\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Margaret immediately dropped her pen \u00e2\u20ac\u201c she was writing a letter to Margaret Houston. She and the boys both sprang up from the tasks at hand. Horace saying firmly,<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Mama, I will go with them!\u00e2\u20ac\u009d and Jamie exclaiming, \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Oh, Mama \u00e2\u20ac\u201c was Tommy with the Indians all this time?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d while Hetty added,<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153I asked after the girl \u00e2\u20ac\u201c they wi\u00e2\u20ac\u2122not say. I\u00e2\u20ac\u2122d say from their faces . .” Hetty looked at Johnny and Peter\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s faces and bit back what she was about to say at first, adding only, \u00e2\u20ac\u0153I dinna think there\u00e2\u20ac\u2122ll be hope, Marm.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153I fear not,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Margaret replied, softly so that only Hetty could hear, as her family emerged from the breezeway between the back of the house and the summer kitchen. Yes \u00e2\u20ac\u201c there was Captain Coleman, a handful of other volunteers from Austin, and a thin young man with an angry face who must be the oldest Simpson. He had not come to live in Austin with his mother and younger siblings, but worked in Bastrop in an enterprise set up by Mrs. Simpson\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s brother . . . and there was Tommy. Margaret could have wept \u00e2\u20ac\u201c for he looked immeasurably older, older than the year and a half since he and Emma had been taken by an Indian raiding party, older by far than Johnny, who was his age. Thin as a rail and burnt as darkly brown as any of the Comanche, as brown as the white renegade who had come with the raiding party on the day that Captain Coleman\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s bluff had send them packing. Tommy\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s hair had grown long, and harshly sun-streaked. Now he sat in the saddle of one of those spry little mustang ponies, looking at nothing more than his hands, as Margaret exclaimed,<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Oh, Tommy \u00e2\u20ac\u201c we are so glad to see you safe and back with us again! Your mother was devastated with grief, and now she must be happy beyond measure. What of Emma, was she also ransomed as well?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n

Tommy looked at his hands, without speaking. His older brother answered for him. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Emma was killed almost at once, Miz Vining, so them red devils could make a get-away.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153I\u00e2\u20ac\u2122m so sorry,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Margaret answered, although she was not in truth surprised.<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153I tole her,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Tommy whispered, \u00e2\u20ac\u0153I tole her not to fight them, she didn\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t ought to make sich a noise, mebbe they\u00e2\u20ac\u2122d treat her fair. But one of them, he took her away with him into a thicket over beyond Mount Bonnell an\u00e2\u20ac\u2122 came back at once w\u00e2\u20ac\u2122 her hair hangin\u00e2\u20ac\u2122 on his saddle. He showed it to me, an\u00e2\u20ac\u2122 he laughed an\u00e2\u20ac\u2122 laughed . . .\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Hearing of this is a terrible grief to all of us,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Margaret said. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153With no news of her, we did have some small shreds of hope. But now, alas . . . Do you wish Horace and Daddy Hurst to go with you? My son wishes to and Daddy will want to, if you can wait for a moment.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d There was little need to wait, for Tommy nodded silently, and Horace had already gone to fetch Daddy Hurst from the stables. In a moment, they had Bucephalus saddled, and Daddy riding on one of the draft mules which Margaret had purchased to pull a light wagon for errands. In a few minutes the party vanished silently among the green shadows of the woods at the foot of Mount Bonnell.<\/p>\n

Some hours later, Daddy Hurst returned alone, explaining to Margaret,<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153They done found her, Miz Vining . . . jus\u00e2\u20ac\u2122 where the boy said. They ast me to fetch up the coffin they done have made. Eighteen months, pert-near nothing but bones. They knew it wuz her by the scraps o\u00e2\u20ac\u2122 her dress.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n

The next morning, Margaret saw a small wagon, heading out from Austin on the river-road towards Bastrop, a wagon with the coffin on the back of it. It was too far away to see which of the brothers was driving, and which was riding the paint-pony. But there was no doubt about who was in the back of that wagon \u00e2\u20ac\u201c the last remains of a pretty girl, with hair the color of cypress leaves in the fall, a pretty and feisty girl who fought against her captors to the very last ounce of strength. <\/p>\n

The war with Mexico ground on, all during that summer long. Now and again Margaret had a brief and usually unsatisfactory message from her brother \u00e2\u20ac\u201c who was, as Hetty had observed \u00e2\u20ac\u201c as uncommunicative in writing as he was in person. Margaret and her household took universal satisfaction in the fact that this time; the fighting was all on Mexican soil. Only the town of Mier had ever before felt the wrath of an army invading from the North. Now, it looked as if Mexico was about to become sated on that banquet, as General Taylor\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s army, and the Texian Rangers under Carl\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s old comrade, Colonel Hays besieged Monterray.<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Let them have a taste of what they have served to us, all too often!\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Margaret exclaimed one night, at the supper table. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153And see if they relish that dish any better! Do you know,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d she added thoughtfully, \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Although my brother has served with Colonel Hays since \u00e2\u20ac\u201c I believe it has been ten years \u00e2\u20ac\u201c I have never met him in person!\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153He must be the only important man in Texas who has never dined at your table,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d John Ford chuckled \u00e2\u20ac\u201c which Margaret was glad to see, since Mrs. Ford was still quite unwell, and her husband was so terribly worried about her. At least, dining at the table of an old friend was an opportunity for him to set his troubles and worries aside for a little. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153When he next presents himself in Austin, Ma\u00e2\u20ac\u2122am, I will do my best to see that he has an invitation \u00e2\u20ac\u201c and bring him myself, if there is no other way to persuade him!\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Do, please \u00e2\u20ac\u201c my brother is almost completely innocent of social graces that he would never think to invite Colonel Hays himself,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Margaret replied, and everyone at the table laughed. Margaret was very pleased: her table was one of the most sought-after in Austin, and the dining room was set in splendor almost every night.<\/p>\n

* * *<\/p>\n

With the news of the fall of Monterray came the longed for end of the summer\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s heat, and the new wing was complete. Margaret so liked the look and the comfortable aspect of the new wing that she moved her own articles of furniture and possessions into the room nearest the existing house, which had a view from the long windows which pleased her enormously. No, this was much better than the upstairs room, and it was more convenient to her office-parlor and the kitchen \u00e2\u20ac\u201c the very heart of her enterprise. Now that autumn had arrived, Margaret rejoiced in the cool breezes and relief from the discomfort of sweat-dampened linen against her skin. Fastidious to the core, she had come to hate the smell of clothing and sheets which became ringed with pale yellow stains over the blistering days and stifling heat of summer. One of her private sources of happiness for having done so well with taking in boarders was being able to hire laundresses, so she and Hetty did not need to labor long days over the washtub and scrubbing board. With autumn came the turning of leaves, and an early rain, which came dribbling out of sullen grey clouds which lingered for days. Now it became necessary to close the windows in the evening to keep out the chill \u00e2\u20ac\u201c no matter how Margaret had relished and welcomed the first breaths of winter. Why did not the weather remain at a comfortable median for more than a few weeks in the spring and in the fall, Margaret wondered \u00e2\u20ac\u201c neither too hot or too cold?<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Takes me back to Wexford, it does, Marm,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Hetty said, half vexed and half longing, \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Weeks would go by, with niver a sight of the sun, and our Mam would say if it went on any longer, we would be after growing moss on us. And it\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s fair cold of a night, Marm \u00e2\u20ac\u201c I think it is time to allow a fire in the boarder\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s parlor of an evening.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d <\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153We should order another wagon-load of wood,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Margaret answered, \u00e2\u20ac\u0153To what we already have cured and split for fires . . . I like the smell of a wood-fire of an evening, Hetty. I daresay the boarders will relish it also.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Nothing takes me home than the smell o\u00e2\u20ac\u2122 peat burning,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Hetty replied, \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Our Mam would tell us that our hearth-fire had been burning since before her Mam was born.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d She sighed nostalgically, and Margaret said,<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153If there were a peat-bog in this country, I would send Daddy Hurst to cut some for you, Hetty \u00e2\u20ac\u201c just to remind you of Wexford. But there isn\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t \u00e2\u20ac\u201c so we make do with what we have.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Oh, but I don\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t miss it that much, Marm,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Hetty answered, \u00e2\u20ac\u0153The soot it made inside our cot was dreadful . . .\u00e2\u20ac\u009d she tilted her head, listening to the sound of rain, thrumming on the verandah roof, outside of Margaret\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s little parlor. A fringe of rainwater, falling off the veranda edge, and the rain itself veiled the distant view of Papa\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s apple trees all in gray. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153It\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s coming down proper, now, Marm. To be sure I pity any Christian out in the weather tonight!\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

(For your enjoyment – a selected chapter from Deep in the Heart – the soon-to-be-released sequel to Daughter of Texas. Advance orders for autographed copies are being taken now, through my website catalog page, here. and for the print second edition of To Truckee’s Trail. Purchased copies will be mailed out by November 15th. My […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":14,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[3,1,30,75,74,46,40],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-7274","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-aint-that-america","category-general","category-history","category-literary-good-stuff","category-old-west","category-veterans-affairs","category-working-in-a-salt-mine"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/ncobrief.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/7274","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/ncobrief.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/ncobrief.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/ncobrief.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/14"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/ncobrief.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=7274"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/ncobrief.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/7274\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/ncobrief.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=7274"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/ncobrief.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=7274"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/ncobrief.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=7274"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}