Free The Shadow Man by F. M. Parker Page B

fellows talking about war earlier today,” Jacob said. “But why do you say it?”
    â€œI’ll tell you why I believe so. Late last summer I was in Austin for a couple of months. Well, the talk was everywhere that Governor Pinckney Henderson wants to finally fix all the boundaries of Texas. They’re already established on the north, east, and south. But the Texans claim a hell of a lot of land to the west that is still in the control of Mexico. The governor says the west border of Texas is all the way over here to the Rio Grande. Santa Fe is in Texas, didn’t you know that? Now, that could be funny, except the man’s serious. If Mexico doesn’t start a war to take back Texas, then Texas will start one to try to take New Mexico,” Tim said, his voice rising gradually as he spoke.
    Deek poked him sharply in the ribs. “Quiet down, Tim. There’s a lot of tough Mexicans in here. And besides, Armijo might think we’re plotting a revolution. He’s a mean son of a bitch, and would have us arrested and shot.”
    Tamarron glanced around the cantina. A group of seven American trappers were drinking and talking noisily at a table near the wall. Scattered around were tables of Mexicans, vaqueros, and townspeople, all in full-mouthed debate on various topics. The quietest bunch of men were the card players at the monte tables in the rear. No one could have heard Tim’s remarks above the loud jumble of all the voices. However, all gringos had to be careful, for Armijo was not a trusting man and had spies in many places.
    The door of the cantina was shoved open, and a small, mud-splattered man wearing the blue-and-red uniform of the Mexican Cavalry came inside. He staggered with weariness and clutched the leather pouch hanging on his shoulder as he made a course toward the bar. He ordered a beer and drank half of it in one swig.
    Tamarron saw the man shiver as the strong, cold beverage hit his gullet. He leaned against the bar for a moment. Then he straightened and, with a second greedy swallow, finished the beer.
    The small man looked at the keg of beer behind the bar in a hungry, wistful manner. He sighed and turned away, making his way across the cantina and out the door.
    Tamarron noted the strained, exhausted face of the man as he passed and went outside. “He’s ridden far and fast,” he said to his two comrades. “All the roads are closed to the north because of deep snow. Even the trail east to Las Vegas isn’t open yet. He could have only come from the south.”
    â€œThe nearest Mexican army garrisons are at Matamoros and Saltillo,” Tim said. “I’m betting he came from one of them.”
    â€œHe has dispatches for the governor,” Jacob said. “I’m going to see if I can find out what the news might be.”
    â€œMe, too,” Tim said.
    Tamarron, with Tim and Deek following close at his back, quickly left the cantina. They stopped in the darkness by the wall of the building.
    In the center of the street, the dispatch rider was leading a mud-covered horse. The worn-out animal did not want to move, and the man cursed it and jerked the reins cruelly.
    â€œHe’s ruined that pony,” Deek said. “I’m sure there are other crippled horses along his trail. Now, a man doesn’t do that unless there’s some damn important message that has to be carried fast.”
    â€œQuiet,” Jacob said. “The moon is bright, and if all three of us follow, we’ll be seen. You two stay here.”
    â€œAll right,” said Tim. “We’ll go back and have some more brew. But you come back and tell us what you see.”
    The dispatch rider went straight across the plaza to the palace. Jacob stealthily trailed him, holding far to the rear in the darkness.
    The armed sentry that was stationed in front of the Governor’s residence intercepted the messenger, and they talked together in low voices.