Again, he thought of dropping over the wall under the cover of darkness and trying to slip away alone. Earlier, he might have managed. But only one had made any move in that direction, a foreign mercenary named Rose. He was not a Texan, not even an American; he had no dedication to this fight. As for the rest, whatever the cause—valor, patriotism, defiance, or just plain inertia—nobody seemed even to consider going over the wall alone, so neither did Isaac, not seriously.

Now the Mexican noose was drawn too tight. He doubted that a dog could get through that line, much less a man. To try it would almost certainly result in sudden death. But to remain here would mean no less; it might just take longer. He had seen the red flag that still flew from the church tower on the main plaza, and he had heard trumpeters play the degüello, the call of no quarter. The garrison, if conquered, was to be put to the sword. He shuddered at the thought of cold steel.

He had wondered several times if Travis might decide their situation here was impossible and try a massive breakout. Though the cost would have been high, some probably would have made it through to fight again somewhere else. But Travis had chosen to make his stand here, and the fighting men seemed to have concurred. So long as the Alamo stood, Santa Anna was delayed in making a devastating sweep across the rest of American Texas. If a Texan army was building somewhere, and he hoped to God it was, each day they delayed Santa Anna here was a day longer that army would be able to recruit volunteers and prepare itself.

Isaac thought of Tennessee. His had not been a happy or an easy childhood, for his father had been lazy and cowardly, his mother embittered and mean of spirit. He had often had to fight his brothers for a fair share of anything except the work; they had always been willing to let him have his part of that and theirs as well. Coming to Texas with Finis and Luke, he had been sorely tempted to leave them and find his own destiny. But they had needed him, so he had remained with them to his sorrow. Now, damn them, it looked like they would have to make their own way without him after all.

He thought of Annie Lewis. He knew that from the beginning she had been a forlorn hope. The Lewises might have killed rather than let a Blackwood join the family. Michael especially. Of all the Lewises, Michael had more cause than any to hate the entire Blackwood clan. Isaac had always understood that, and he had never really blamed Michael for his feelings, hard as they might have been on Isaac himself. But he had wanted Annie as he had never wanted a woman before. To see her hand-in-hand with another man had brought a shattering end to a desperate dream.