In all that time he kept wishing he had a coat to shield him from the raw and chilling wind. He had left his tied to his saddle. He tried tanning the deer hide enough to use but failed for lack of time or proper materials. He had to discard it when it stiffened and the stench became too much to bear.

He had no idea what was happening elsewhere. He had seen enough soldiers earlier to convince him that Santa Anna’s invasion had been no flight of fancy, no figment of imagination by those who seemed always ready to surrender to blind fear. He sensed that the patrols he had seen were but the outriders flanking an army. By now that army had had time to reach San Antonio and there challenge the Texans barricaded in the old mission grounds. He could only guess what the outcome had been. Were he Santa Anna, he would probably leave enough men there to encircle the mission and besiege the defenders until they were starved into submission while he took his main force and proceeded across the colonies, sweeping everything before him as he marched.

If that were Santa Anna’s strategy, he could well have traversed the whole of American Texas by now. He could have overrun Austin’s colony including the Lewis farms and perhaps have his victorious army encamped on the west bank of the Sabine, daring a return by any of the survivors who had fled to sanctuary on the Louisiana side.

James lay awake nights, wondering what had become of Annie, of Marie and Petra and Hope and the children. Surely cousin Frank would not have let the Mexicans overtake them. For all his breezy outlook on life, Frank was serious when he had to be. Looking back, James was ashamed of his own occasional irresponsibility on the long trek west from Tennessee. Had it not been for Frank imposing a gentle but firm hand at times, they might never have made it into Texas. Frank could laugh easily, but that laugh could quickly give way when something else was called for.

He wondered, too, about Andrew. Perhaps he had returned home when he became convinced he would not find Michael. Or perhaps he had become embroiled in some battle with the Mexican forces and was unable to return home. It could even be that Andrew had joined Michael among the lost, that James was the only surviving Lewis brother in Texas. Even he was still a long way from home.

Gradually the land changed. It became less of a desert and more benign, like the land he knew along the Colorado. At first he found none of it that showed any sign it had ever been inhabited except for traces of old Indian camps along an occasional creek or stream. One day just at dusk he came across a log cabin much like his own. It appeared to have been abandoned hastily. The door was hanging open. Warily, his rifle primed and ready, he worked his way to it, then stepped through the door. A loud snuffing noise made his heart jump. He swung the rifle around and almost shot a big spotted sow, which grunted and bolted through the open door. She was followed by four small shoats, their tiny hoofs rattling on the hard-packed dirt floor. They had startled him as much as he had frightened them.