Custer at the Alamo by Gregory Urbach Read Free Book Online

taken from one of the dead hunters, a long ungainly buffalo gun that must have weighed twelve pounds. Gray Wolf not only carried a musket, but he had Tom’s spare Colt .45 tucked in his waistband. If Spotted Eagle wanted one of my Webley Bulldog revolvers, he was going to be disappointed. The ivory-handled pistols had been a gift from an admirer and I had no intention of giving them up.
    A quarter mile short of the Camino Real, Cooke came out to meet us, holding up a hand for silence. We dismounted and left the horses with Private Engle, creeping up on a long barren ridge. Tom, Bouyer and Morning Star were laying flat on the ground, looking at the river.
    “They’ve got to be crazy,” Tom whispered.
    I couldn’t agree more. Below us, at the ford, was a Mexican army, and they were invading the United States!
    “Counted five hundred so far, Gen’ral,” Bouyer said. “’Bout fifty cavalry and three hundred infantry.”
    “The rest appear to be teamsters and camp followers,” Cooke said. “We’ve spotted four freight wagons, two siege cannon, three field pieces, and dozens of carts.”
    The line of weary soldiers and two-wheel carts spread back along the Camino Real for half a mile, but most of them were stopped at the river where the cold choppy water presented an obstacle. The Mexicans’ uniforms were largely blue jackets and white slacks, though the dust of the prairie gave everything a brown tint. They looked tired, as if they’d been on the move for several weeks.
    “Gots to be a hundred draught animals down there. Horses, mules, oxen. Few head of cattle. Haulin’ a lot supplies for somebody,” Bouyer added.
    Bouyer was right, and it was the siege guns that had stalled their progress. A pair of 12-pounders were mounted on two rafts, buffeted by the current. Such large cannon are never easy to move. A few cavalry and a squad of infantry had reached our side of the Rio Grande, but only one freight wagon had made it across. It would take them the rest of the day to complete the crossing.
    “This isn’t the advance guard,” Tom said.
    “No, it isn’t,” I agreed, studying the scene through my field glasses.
    The invaders had not posted guards. The infantry looked footsore. Their cavalry horses, by all appearances of poor stock, were nearly played out. The column was pushing hard to catch up with their main body. If there were five hundred here, there would be twenty-five hundred ahead of them. If not more. What had possessed the Mexican government to engage in such a foolhardy adventure?
    “San Antonio?” Cooke wondered.
    “Can’t think where else they’re going. Our closest garrisons are in Austin and Galveston, hundreds of miles away,” I guessed.
    “What should we do?” Tom asked.
    “No question about that. We will attack,” I decided.
    We crawled back down the ridge. Corporals Brown and French were my acting orderlies. C Company was drawn up behind the low hill, fourteen men clutching their rifles. Within a few minutes, Smith arrived with E Company, giving us about forty troopers. Most of the command was still on the back trail.
    “Ten to one odds, Autie,” Tom warned.
    “You’re right, Major Custer, but once the invaders have their big guns across the river, they’ll be difficult to assault. Better to throw them into confusion now while Keogh and Yates come forward.”
    “Algernon and I can hold this ridge,” Tom said, studying the ground. And without another word, he walked off and started issuing orders.
    “Corporal Brown, my compliments to Captain Keogh,” I said. “Tell him to swing his troop east, block the road to San Antonio, and then come on strong toward the river. French, you are to find Captain Yates. Have him come forward at a gallop to support Major Custer. If the firing has already started, he’s to pitch into whatever he finds. And get Voss back here on the double. We’ll need him to sound the charge.”
    I was speaking fast. Excited. Cooke took out his notebook