James decided that Shipman wouldn’t rest until that chore was taken care of. The next morning, following Shipman’s directions, he set out on Walker to find the farm where the mules had been left for safekeeping. Along the way he came upon half a dozen horsemen, riding from the direction of the fortress at Velasco. He recognized them as veterans of the battle and held up until they reached him.

“Any news from Anahuac?” he asked. “Did the schooner make it down there all right?”

“Yes,” was the answer from the tall man who had led him to Velasco in the first place. “Turned out it wasn’t needed. Colonel de las Piedras had already gone to Liberty and then up to Anahuac and turned Bradburn out of office. He agreed to right the wrongs that Bradburn visited upon us.”

“Then Travis is free?”

“Travis and all the others Bradburn had imprisoned.”

James felt his stomach start to tie itself into a knot. “When did all this happen?”

“Before the battle of Velasco. We just didn’t know. Ugartechea didn’t know.”

James slumped in the saddle, thinking of Shipman, thinking of all those dead, all those wounded. “So the battle was for nothin’.”

The tall man shrugged. “It wasn’t a total loss. We got to shoot hell out of some Mexicans.”

“And got the hell shot out of us, too.”

“Life doesn’t give us anything free.” The man lifted one hand as a way of saying good-bye and proceeded upon his way, the other men following in silence. James watched them for several minutes, his stomach roiling in frustration and anger and regret.

He began to wonder if Michael would have gone.

XV

JAMES WAS reluctant to leave Shipman, but his partner was adamant, even angry when James seemed to try to stall the mission. Following Shipman’s directions, he found the farm where the mules had been left, rewarded the farmer with a jug of good Kentucky squeezings and then proceeded to peddle most of the assorted goods out around the area for a small but welcome profit. Though the Mexican soldiers had prevented him from working his farm, he had not been idle. He had a little money deposited with Baptiste Villaret in Natchitoches, probably more than he could have hoped to make out of one year’s crops in Austin’s colony. Nevertheless, it scratched in his craw that they had robbed him of that chance. It was the end of June now and much too late to start a crop even if he were to return to the farm.

Memories of his aborted attempt to settle on the Colorado set him to thinking. From here it was not really very far. On horseback, he could make it in maybe three days without pressing Walker too much, four or five if he took it slow for Shipman’s sake. It was considerably farther back to Louisiana, and there would be no one to see after Shipman at their cabin except James. For help he would have to carry the wounded man all the way to Natchitoches. A trip of that length could kill him. Among the Lewis family, Shipman would receive the care he needed.