A forty-man Texan cavalry patrol early that morning had encountered Santanista scouts and had killed four of them in a running skirmish, then had watched Santa Anna’s column leave a small settlement known as New Washington. The Mexicans moved into an encampment of their own, not a mile from Houston’s.

With Houston now were two recently arrived cannons, which the men were calling the Twin Sisters, bought and paid for by donations from the citizens of Cincinnati. Houston ordered these rolled out in front of the grove. Santa Anna, feeling contemptuous of the undisciplined Texas force and confident that he now had it trapped, sent out a company of skirmishers and wheeled out a twelve-pound cannon by way of challenge. The cannon’s shot went over the Texans and splashed harmlessly into the waters of Buffalo Bayou, behind them. The skirmishers fired their muskets without effect, for the range was too great.

The Twin Sisters answered the Mexican cannon shot for shot, finally striking the Mexican gun carriage and killing two mules. As the Mexicans began to retreat, dragging the cannon with too few mules, a Texan cavalry unit sallied forth in an effort to capture it. The resultant heated skirmish failed to take the Mexican cannon but enlivened the fighting spirits in the Texan camp.

James and Andrew huddled over a campfire that night, listening to the telling and retelling of the day’s two cavalry skirmishes. Sly Shipman had been among the horsemen involved, but he was not talking much. While around the encampment the Texans were making heroes of the participants, Shipman came to the Lewises’ campfire and avoided the celebration. He sat moodily staring into the flames.

James asked him, “What’s the matter? People are tryin’ to give you a medal, and you look like somebody had taken a whip to you.”

Grittily Shipman said, “I don’t feel like a hero. Fact is, I was scared half out of my britches there a time or two. All I could think of was Annie, and wonderin’ if I was ever goin’ to see her again. Or that baby on the way, and wonderin’ if I was ever goin’ to see it at all. If they could know what I was thinkin’ they’d be callin’ me a coward.”

Andrew said, “You’ve been dodgin’ Mexican soldiers a big part of your life. Haven’t you ever been scared before?”

“Not this scared. Maybe I didn’t ever have so much to lose before. There’s Annie now, and our baby.”

Andrew poked up the fire a little, adding more wood. “I’ll bet you half the men in camp are thinkin’ along the same lines. That’s why they’re makin’ so much fuss over what you-all did. It gives them heart, and helps keep their minds off what’s likely comin’.”

Shipman asked, “What do you think is comin’?”

James said, “A fight. It’ll be tomorrow. It has to be.”

“Why?” Andrew asked.

“This camp is ready. It reminds me of when we had the siege on San Antonio last December. We’d sat there and waited and waited while the officers argued over what we ought to do. All we needed was a spark to touch off the powder. Along comes old Ben Milam and furnishes the spark. He raises a holler, and half the camp follows him into San Antonio.