Hoofbeats penetrated Jamie's awareness, making him lose track of the sums he was doing.  He looked up, knowing what he would see through the window over Mr. Webber's desk.  Coming up the Camino Real was a company of cavalry.
     Jamie glanced at his employer, who was helping two ladies choose some calico, and quietly got up from the desk.  He walked to the doorway of the general store to stand and watch the horsemen riding proudly up the street from the Military Plaza. They were lancers, each carrying a long spear with a small red pennant beneath its blade to drink the blood of the enemy.  Each pennant bore a single white star, matching the Lone Star on the guidon carried by one of the horsemen.  The lancers sat proud and erect in their saddles.  They were Germans from town--he recognized some as customers--and they had uniforms, probably made by German wives and sisters determined to send their men to war properly dressed.  Across the corner in Main Plaza a brass band had begun to play.  He could hear the strains of "Dixie" from the doorway.
     "Excuse me, young man," a voice said behind him, and Jamie hastily moved out of the way.  The two ladies stepped past him with their bundle, barely glancing at the martial display.  Such sights had become common in San Antonio this spring.
     Mr. Webber came and leaned against the door frame, running a hand through his greying hair.  "Think you might go for a soldier, Jamie?"
     Jamie felt himself blushing.  "I wouldn't want to leave you in a bind, sir."
     A small smile crept onto Mr. Webber's face.  "Well, do as you think right," he said.
     Jamie watched the horses go by, picking out the ones he knew.  Ranch horses, farm horses, cart horses.  Brushed to within an inch of their lives and glowing under the hot sun, looking finer than they ever had.
     "You rode with Kearny, didn't you, sir?" Jamie asked.
     "I did indeed," Mr. Webber replied.
     "Was it glorious?"
     Mr. Webber gazed at him, a smile twisting up one corner of his mouth.  "To a young soldier everything is glorious," he said, and walked away to put up the bolts of cloth left out on the table.
     Jamie stayed by the door and watched the lancers out of sight, imagining himself among them, dressed in crisp grey with a spear in his hand and Poppa's big gelding, Old Ben, under his saddle.  Old Ben was needed on the ranch, though, and Jamie was small for his age.  Likely he wouldn't be accepted for the cavalry.  Likely he'd stay here, being better suited for clerking than soldiering.  He was nineteen years old, he'd worked in the store since he was sixteen, and it seemed sometimes like he'd be here until he was grey as Mr. Webber.  He sighed and was about to turn back to the desk when he spotted a familiar wagon rolling up the street.
     "Captain Martin!" he yelled, grinning, and stepped out onto the boardwalk waving his arms.
     The driver of the wagon, wearing a dusty frock coat and a wide-brimmed cavalry hat, pulled up his team in front of the store.  "Hey, young Russell!  Came to check on those blankets and beans."
     "Yes, sir!" Jamie said.  "They just arrived this morning."
     "Good.  Let's fill up the wagon and I'll send for the rest."
     Captain Martin jumped down and tossed his hat onto the seat.  His teeth showed white against his sun-cured skin.  Martin was an assistant quartermaster--an A.Q.M--for the army and was constantly prowling San Antonio for supplies.  Jamie liked his easy smile and offhanded kindness, and did his best to find everything the captain requested.  Now he hurried to help Martin load the wagon with sacks of dried beans and bundled wool blankets.
     "Have you ordered those tin plates yet?" Martin asked.
     "Yes, sir!  They should be here in a month," Jamie answered.
     "Then I'm afraid I'll have to trouble you to write again.  I need a hundred more than I told you."
     "No trouble, sir.  I ordered five hundred, just in case."
     "Son," Martin said with a grin, "you've got the soul of a quartermaster."
     Jamie grinned back.  "Come on in, I'll write up the bill."
     They went inside, grateful for the cool dimness of the store.  Not yet June, it was already sweltering in southern Texas.  As Jamie neatly wrote out the captain's bill, Mrs. Webber came out of the back with a tray full of glasses and a pitcher.
     "Good afternoon, Captain," she said.  "Would you care for a glass of lemonade?"
     "Don't mind if I do," Martin answered.  "Thank you, ma'am."
     Mr. Webber joined them, shaking hands with Martin.  While the units forming around San Antonio were brand new, many of their officers were old veterans of the U.S. Army who, remembering his honorable service in the past, were among Mr. Webber's best customers.  Captain Martin was one of these, though he was much younger than Mr. Webber, having been only a raw recruit at Monterrey.  In his position as A.Q.M. the captain had increased Webber's profits considerably in recent months.
     "How are the volunteers shaping up?" Mr. Webber asked.
     "Helter-skelter," Martin said.  "Companies forming and disbanding and forming again.  Then they disappear for Richmond."
     "In a hurry to get their share of glory."  Mr. Webber smiled.
     "Well, they're young," Martin said.
     Jamie sipped his lemonade and listened hungrily to every scrap of gossip Martin let fall about the troops headed east. When the captain rumbled away again in his wagon, Jamie went back to the desk to finish his tallies and daydreams.  At six o'clock he tidied the papers and gave the store a quick sweep while Mr. Webber was locking up, then slipped out the back door.
     Cocoa whickered at him from the corral behind Cutter Blacksmiths next door.  "Hey, girl," he said, stroking her soft, dark-brown nose.  She came up to the fence and reached over to nuzzle his neck, and he laughed at the tickle of her whiskers.  She might not be a war horse, but she was his--the only living creature who was all his own--and he'd loved her since he helped her stand up to reach for her first meal.
     Jamie's stomach growled.  A hundred suppers were cooking in the town, their scents making his mouth water as he hurried to saddle the mare.  He hauled himself onto her back, tightened the strings of his straw hat to keep off the sun, and rode down Soledad to the corner, turning west toward home.
     As he passed the Military Plaza he searched it for signs of more new companies, but saw only the usual food vendors setting up for the evening.  He clicked his tongue, urging Cocoa to trot a little faster past the savory smells of chili stew and fresh bread.  Before long they were out of town, and Cocoa nickered, asking for a gallop.  Jamie gave her her head and they flew over the hills, past fields glittering with water from a spiderweb network of acequias that fed the young crops.  Every year more farms sprang up along the Overland Trail west of town, bringing San Antonio a little closer to Russell's Ranch.
     The sun was starting to sink as Jamie turned down the lane to the broad, white ranch house, nestled under live oaks in the hollow of two hills.  He unsaddled Cocoa and turned her loose in the corral, gave her some water and hay, then headed for the house.  From inside he heard Poppa's voice raised in anger, and a cold feeling settled in his stomach as he ran up the three steps and pulled open the door.
     Poppa stood by the fireplace, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides, a sure sign that he was truly angered. Nearby Momma sat in the rocking chair, weeping while sister Emmaline bent over her, murmuring words of comfort.  Daniel, the eldest, stood nearby hugging baby brother Gabe who was just twelve.  Everybody's eyes were on Matthew, the center of all the fuss, standing in the middle of the room in a brand-new Confederate uniform. 
     "I don't care," Matt said.  "I already swore in with the Tom Green Rifles, so I can't back out, and that's that!"
     "Just joined, and that's that!" Poppa scoffed.  "Didn't think about your mother!  Didn't think about brother Dan, who's been wanting for weeks to join the army.  Dan's too well-behaved to go against his parents' wishes, but I suppose that means nothing to you--"
     "Fine, I don't belong in this family!  That's what you're saying, isn't it?  Well, I'm leaving, so all that's fine!"
     Matthew stormed toward the door while Momma wept with new anguish, but he came up short when he saw Jamie blocking the way.  Jamie stood stubbornly between his older brother and the door.  Dan came up beside Matt, speaking words of calm sense in his quiet, steady voice.
     "You don't want to leave like this, Matt.  Please." Dan took his brother's arm and brought him back to the family room.  "Poppa, I don't mind if he goes.  I just thought I'd like to see a little of the world, but I can do that any time.  This may be Matt's only chance to shoot a Yankee."
     Poppa sneered.  "A fine ambition for a young man.  Think it's all a game, don't you?"
     Matt clenched his jaw.  "I'm going to Richmond," he said, "to defend our state in our family's name."
     Poppa's face softened, and suddenly Jamie saw the fear that had been hidden behind his anger.  Everyone sensed the change; Momma's whimpers subsided, and Gabe clung to Emmaline's hand.
     "Very well, I can't stop you," Poppa said, his shoulders sagging.  "I suppose you want me to provide you with a mount."
     "He can have Buffalo," Dan offered.
     "Buffalo's your horse," Poppa said gruffly.
     "I can get another."
     "No."  Poppa turned to Matt and shrugged, which was his usual way of apologizing.  "Take Old Ben," he said.
     Matt's eyes widened, and Jamie bit his lip in sudden envy.
     "Poppa--" Matt began.
     "Go on, before I change my mind."
     Matt flushed red with gratitude.  He went over to kneel by the rocking chair and took Momma's hands in his.  "Don't cry," he said.  "I'll be in camp up at Austin for a while.  Promise I'll write every day."
     Momma caught his face in her hands.  "My boy, my boy," was all she could say.  Matt reached up to hug her, kissed her cheek, then got up and kissed his sister.  He tweaked Gabe's ear and told him to behave, and then turned to face his father.
     "Thank you, Poppa," he said.
     "Go on, then," Poppa said, offering his hand.  Matt shook it gravely, and Dan's, too, then turned toward the door.  He nodded as Jamie stepped aside.
     "Keep safe, Professor," he said, giving Jamie a slap on the back and a wink, and was out the door and down the steps, gone.
     Everyone stood silent for a minute.
     "Supper's getting cold," Emmaline said, breaking the spell.  "Let me help you, Momma."
     "Oh, yes," Momma said in a worried voice, and got up out of her chair, coming back to life with the need to get things done.  They all crowded around the table as if to escape what had happened, but Matt's empty chair was a reminder.  Momma refused to let Daniel move it, and kept glancing over at it all through supper.  No one had much appetite although everyone pronounced the meal first rate.  Finally they got up, each to seek solace in his or her own little evening task.  Jamie, feeling ready to burst, fairly ran out to the corral where he caught Cocoa and Buffalo and brought them in for the night.  He gave them each a share of oats, brushed Cocoa till she gleamed in the lamplight, then went back out for the other two ranch horses, Smokey and Pip.  He met Dan leading them in, and took charge of Smokey, the grey.  By silent consent the brothers tended the horses, then went back to the tack room together and sat on sacks of grain.  Dan took down a bridle that didn't need polishing and set to work on it.  Jamie watched him until he could stand it no longer.
     "How could you do that?" he said.  "How could you let him go, when all you ever wanted was to be a soldier?"
     "Easier to let him go than make him stay," Dan replied.
     "But--"
     "Think a minute, James.  Now Poppa has to admit it's right for us to fight."
     Jamie stared at his brother in wonder.  Daniel wasn't a storm of emotions like Matt, but when he moved it was with inexorable determination.  He would get his way, Jamie realized.  He would go to war.  It was simply a matter of time, and Dan didn't think time of much account.
     "Matty's Poppa's favorite," Dan remarked.  "Poppa never could tell him no.  Now he can't rightly say no to you and me."
     "Somebody's got to mind the ranch," Jamie said.
     "Gabe's been lending a hand for a while.  I'll stay til he's learned the ropes.  Emma can help some, too.  She'd do it."  Dan glanced up at him.  "How about you, Professor?  Gonna sign up?  I know you want to."
     Jamie tried to swallow the lump in his throat.  "Doubt I'd make much of a soldier," he said.
     "There's all kinds of soldiers."
     Jamie thought of how his mother would react to losing a second and then a third son to the army.  Not likely she'd stand for it.  "Wonder where Matty got the uniform," he said glumly.
     "I made it," Emmaline said from the doorway.  Jamie and Dan both looked up.
     "Oh, you did?" Daniel said.
     "Yes.  Mind if I join you?" she said, sitting next to Jamie and leaning forward so as not to bump her head on the saddle tree above.  Emma was tall for a girl, taller than Jamie and almost as tall as Dan.  She had Matt's coloring--darker brown than the rest of the family--and a little of his wildness, too.  "I worked on it some every night, after bedtime," she said.
     "You knew Matt was joining the Rifles?" Jamie asked.
     Emma nodded.  "He could never pass up an adventure.  And you, Dan, I know you want to join the army because you believe in the cause.  What I can't figure out is why Jamie wants to go."  She turned her gaze on Jamie, who looked down at the straw-scattered floor.
     "Guess I just want to show I'm good for more than counting sacks of beans," he said.  It sounded inadequate to his own ears, but Emmaline nodded.
     "You could go, you know," she said.  "Poppa's used to you being gone all week.  Won't make that much difference."
     "If Dan can't go I won't," Jamie replied.  His throat tightened on the words, but he meant them.  Dan had given up a lot through the years for the sake of his younger siblings.
     "Funny how you want what you can't have sometimes," Emma said.  "You both want to go away, and I want to stay."
     Daniel hung the bridle back on its hook.  "Momma still wants you to go to Aunt May?"
     Emmaline nodded.  "She says I won't ever be a lady unless I get some polish.  Like I was a candlestick or something.  But I don't want to go to Houston!"  Her dark eyes flashed as she looked up.
     "Maybe it won't be so bad if you just go for a little while," Jamie suggested.
     "Momma'd find ways to keep me there.  You know how she is.  She just doesn't understand how much I love this ranch."
     "Maybe she thinks you'll find a husband in Houston, like Susan did," Daniel said.
     "Maybe I don't want a husband," retorted Emmaline.
     Jamie's eyebrows rose.  "You want to be an old maid?"
     "I want to stay here.  Either that, or marry a soldier and follow the drum."
     "You, too?" Jamie laughed.  "Why don't we just enlist the whole family?"
     Emmaline laughed.  "Gabe can be the drummer boy."
     "And Poppa can be the General," Jamie said.
     "Nope.  Momma," Dan said.  "She always gets the final say."
     Emmaline wailed, and they all laughed until their sides ached, then hugged each other.
     "Things'll work out," Dan said, standing up.  "Don't worry, Professor.  You'll get your chance."
     Jamie smiled a grim little smile to himself as he followed Dan and Emma back to the house.  He didn't know how long the war would last, but he did know that he would rather become a skeleton behind the counter of Mr. Webber's store than prevent Daniel from getting his greys.

Next stop:  Valverde

Copyright © 1998 by P.G. Nagle. All rights reserved.