Home of the Brave (42 page)

“How do you
know?”

“I just know.”

“I prefer to discover that
for myself.”

“You’re setting yourself up
for a disappointment.”

“No I’m not. If I can only
sleep beside you I’ll be perfectly satisfied.”

“What will your brother
say?”

“He’ll pretend not to
notice.”

“Why now?” he asked after
several long seconds. “Why after all these years?”

“We both know that this is
our last time together, my love.”

November 20,
1846

Monterrey, Mexico

Marina was reading a letter
while Thomas and Josiah Whipple waited for her to tell them what it
said. “Your father has joined Win Scott’s staff and will be with
the expeditionary force when it arrives next year,” Marina said to
Thomas.

“He’s much too old,” Thomas
grumbled.

“He knows what he’s doing,”
Marina replied. But then after a few seconds of deliberation she
added, “Jack and Robert are going to be there with him in case he
gets in over his head.”

“Dad, Jack and Robert all
there together; you and I, here,” Thomas chuckled. “War’s our
family business.”

“Well some of y’all might
wanna look for another business,” Whipple suggested. “Seems like
President James Polk’s done took most of Zach Taylor’s army and
sent ‘em back down to Port Isabel to wait for Winfield
Scott.”

“What does General Taylor
say about that, Mother?” Thomas asked.

“He thinks that President
Polk is trying to deprive him of any new military success that
might aid him in his campaign for the presidency,” Marina
replied.

“What do you think about
that, Mother? Is it true?”

“I don’t know and I don’t
care,” she said unpleasantly.

“Why are you here?” Thomas
asked.

“Your father must have told
me a dozen stories about battles where Indians tried to surrender
but were cut down because no one understood them. I don’t want that
to happen to Mexican boys.”

“Whose side are you on,
Mother?”

“Neither. If I had my way
the whole thing would stop and we’d all go home.”

“Now there’s a idea nobody
else ever had, Marina,” Whipple said sarcastically.

She gave him a malevolent
look.

“Better figure out where you
stand, Marina,” Whipple persisted. “Otherwise you just might not
make it through this.”

February 21,
1847

Saltillo, Mexico

Although General Zachery
Taylor’s orders from President Polk were to remain in occupation of
Monterrey, he chose to ignore them, and in early February, he had
marched south and captured Saltillo. Also in direct defiance of
Polk’s orders, Taylor called back John E. Wool’s Center Division to
Saltillo from the Chihuahua Expedition, thus bringing his forces to
nearly five thousand.

When Antonio López de Santa
Anna heard that the bulk of Taylor’s army had been moved to the
coast, he set out from San Luis Potosí toward Saltillo with a force
of twenty-five thousand, intent upon destroying Taylor.

Taylor reacted to word of
Santa Anna’s movement by sending two companies of Major Ben
McCulloch’s Texas Ranger Division to scout the Mexican army while
Taylor advanced the rest of his army twenty miles south of Saltillo
to Agua Nueva.

Sarah Borginnes, never one
to miss an opportunity, had left the American House in Matamoros in
the care of an American soldier who had lost a leg in the Battle of
Matamoros. She then followed Taylor’s camp to Saltillo where she
had established a restaurant called The Great Western.

On the morning of the
22
^nd
,
when Sarah came to open the restaurant, she found Captain Josiah
Whipple, sleeping in the doorway. “If you’ll move your carcass so
as I can get in, Josiah, I’ll make y’ a dozen eggs,” she
said.

Whipple got to his feet with
a groan. “‘Mornin’, Sarah.”

She unlocked the door,
opened it and pushed him inside. “What’re you doing here so early
and bedraggled?”

“We been ridin’ for three
straight days and nights, stealin’ horses all the way. We got to
camp before dawn and when Ben McCulloch went to report to Zach
Taylor, I walked on over here fer breakfast. When I seen you wasn’t
open yet, I decided this was as good a place as any to catch up on
some sleep.”

“Sit you down and I’ll get a
fire up.”

“Thank ye, kindly. It’s
warmer in here than out there, even without no fires.” He sat at a
table and took off his hat.

“Guess y’all found Santa
Anna then,” she said as she shook down the stove.

“Yup. He’s about sixty miles
south of Agua Nueva and comin’ fast as he can.”

“Does he really have
twenty-five thousand in his army, or is that a fish
story?”

“He prob’bly started with
that many but he’s lost two or three thousand from desertions,
sickness and whatnot.”

“So he’s still got more ‘n
twenty thousand?”

“Yup. Column’s so long it
takes near an hour to watch it go by.”

“What’s General Taylor gonna
do?”

“Look for better ground, I’d
reckon. This sure ain’t the place for a big fight.”

“Where at?”

“The pass through them
mountains at Buena Vista, would be my guess.”

“Why?”

“Comin’ through that narrow
little pass Santa Anna’s front can’t get no wider than maybe five
hundred men. The rest have to stack up behind ‘em. Our artillery
should be able t’ chew ‘em up. Leastways I can’t think o’ no place
else near here that’s gonna offer no better chance for four or five
thousand against more ‘n twenty-thousand.”

“How soon y’ reckon ‘till he
pulls out?”

“Zach? He’s prob’bly gone by
now.”

“Shit. I ain’t
ready.”

“Might be best if you just
stayed here.”

She gave him an evil glance.
“If it’s gonna be bad they’ll need my nursin’.”

He shrugged. “Okay. Then
I’ll help y’ pack yer wagon as quick as you get somebody here to
watch the place.”

“Did Marina already pull
out? Do you know?”

“I don’t know nothin’ fer
sure. But if Zach’s gone you can guess Marina is too.”

They both jumped in alarm as
the front door banged open and a tattered soldier ran in.
“Santayana done whipped General Taylor and he’s skedaddled north,”
the man shouted. “Pass the word. Folks need to get out before
they’s butchered.”

Sarah looked questioningly
at Whipple.

“There ain’t been no gunfire
nor cannons,” Whipple said to her, shaking his head. “This boy is
either a coward and tryin’ to cover it up by spreadin’ panic. Or
might be he’s trying to run people off so as he can do some
lootin’.”

“That ain’t true,” the man
argued. “If you look out there you can see the dust where Taylor’s
headed north.”

Whipple put his hand on his
pistol. “There ain’t been no fight and General Taylor ain’t
runnin’, so I says yer a liar.”

Sarah came around the
counter and landed a powerful punch on the soldier’s jaw, sending
him sprawling. “You God damned son of a bitch. There ain’t
Mess-kins enough in Mexico to whip ol’ Zach Taylor. You just spread
that lie some more and I’ll beat you plumb to death.” She kicked
him and when he started to crawl toward the door, she kicked him
again.

Whipple laughed uproariously
and slapped his leg, raising a cloud of dust. “If you don’t beat
all, Sarah.”

She took one more kick at
the fleeing man then grinned at Whipple when he had gone. “‘Guess
he won’t tell that tall-tale to nobody else.” She went back to the
task of making coffee. “How much time we got before Santa Anna gets
here?”

“Here or to Buena
Vista?”

“Which way’s Buena
Vista?”

“North.”

“So General Taylor is
retreatin’ like that fella said?”

“No, no. He’s just findin’
better ground, like I said. And if that kid was tellin’ true about
the dust in the north, Zach’s sure as hell-fire headed fer Buena
Vista, like I said.”

“How much time before the
Mess-kins get to Buena Vista?”

“His advance party is
probably here already. They’ll follow Zach and get there at more or
less the same time he does.”

“How’d they get here so
fast?” she asked.

“They was better mounted
than us and they left a day earlier. But it’ll be two, maybe three
more days before the main body can catch up.”

“Oh. Then I got time to pack
out.”

“Like I said, I’ll help
you.” Whipple gave her a grin.

“You ain’t got a horse, I
reckon.”

“I stole me a mustang, but
he’s no account.”

“I’d be glad to have you
ride with me.”

“I’d be obliged.”

February 22,
1847

Buena Vista,
Mexico

With General Taylor checking
his rearguard at Saltillo and with General Wool and the brigade
commanders setting up the defenses, Major W.W.S. Bliss, who was
General Taylor’s aide-de-camp, found himself temporarily in command
of the entire army.

“My compliments, Major
Bliss,” the scout reported.

Bliss returned the
salute.

“They’s a party o’ five
Mess-kins comin’ up the canyon under a flag o’ truce,
sir.”

“Very well. Return to your
post,” Bliss replied.

“Yes, sir.”

Bliss turned around.
“Marina?”

She was sitting behind
Taylor’s field desk with her feet up and watching Bliss.
“Yes?”

“I need you.” He buckled on
his saber belt and put on his hat.

“How badly?”

He turned to look at her.
“What?”

“It’s gonna cost
you.”

“Marina. We don’t have time
for games.”

“Ask me how
much.”

“How much?”

“The price is three letters:
W.W.S.”

“I’m not telling you my
name, Marina. We’ve had this conversation before.”

“Okay. See if you can
negotiate with Santa Anna in your lousy Tex-Mex.”

He glowered at her.
“Alright. But you have to swear not to tell anyone.”

“No deal.”

“Damn it, Marina. This isn’t
the time for fooling around.”

“What does W.W.S. stand
for?”

“William Wallace Smith,” he
growled.

“Sir William Wallace, the
Scottish hero?”

“He was some kind of distant
cousin. Can we go now?”

“Yes.” Giggling, she got up
and followed him out. “Who was the Smith? Captain John Smith? Maybe
you’re part Indian on Pocahontas’s side.”

“Stop it. I’m nervous enough
without you tormenting me.”

“What are you nervous
about?”

“I’ve never done this
before,” Major Bliss said, as he mounted his horse.

“Done what?” Marina accepted
a boost from the cavalryman who had brought her horse.

“Negotiated a
surrender.”

She laughed and rode out.
“Santa Anna didn’t come to surrender,” she called over her
shoulder.

“Then what’s he want?” Bliss
caught up to ride beside her.

“He’s probably going to say
something about giving us no quarter if we don’t surrender
immediately. That’s what he did at the Alamo.”

“Us surrender? I don’t have
that authority.”

“If you did, would
you?”

“No.”

“Then having the authority
is immaterial. You just say no. You don’t need diplomatic training
or any more authority to say no.”

“Has anyone ever told you
that you’re a maddening woman?”

“Yes.”

They rode silently for the
rest of the way.

The Mexican general, flanked
by two musketeers on each side, was wearing a red velvet coat with
so much gold braid on the shoulders and medals on the breast that
it had deformed the material and made him look hunchbacked. He
spoke quickly and haughtily to Major Bliss as if Marina was not
present.

Marina waited for him to
finish then turned in her saddle toward Bliss. “Santa Anna seems to
think that we surrendered by withdrawing from Saltillo to here.
This man, who’s too rude to introduce himself, has come to discuss
terms.”

“Terms?”

“Yes. We moved north, so he
thinks we ran.”

“Tell the arrogant pig that
the Mexican army must surrender unconditionally,” Bliss snarled.
“No terms.”

Marina grinned then nodded,
faced the Mexican General and translated in a haughty
tone.

The man responded with a
string of curses.