Gone to Texas Read Online Free PDF Page B

remarked.”Can’t say that about the lieutenant.”
    â€œOr the townspeople,” Duncan added, ‘‘although they look more Indian than Spanish.”
    At every village on the long ride to Chihuahua, the people took pity on the prisoners and brought them food and clothing. One wrinkled old woman with gray braids that reached nearly to her waist stopped by Duncan to admire his long blond hair. She called to her daughter, and both exclaimed over the color, and fingered Duncan’s matted locks. Before the cavalry rode on, the daughter brought Duncan a white cotton shirt.
    After thanking her, he said to Ellis, “We’ve both got shirts. Now maybe someone will give us each a pair of pants.”
    They reached Chihuahua in the spring of 1803, two years after their capture. Stem-faced General Nemesio de Salcedo, who had recently arrived, was commandant general of all the Interior Provinces. “When General Salcedo learned that you were in a dungeon at San Luis Potosí,” the commander of the escort told them, “he ordered you brought here.”
    Because escaping from Chihuahua and crossing the desert on foot was almost impossible, Salcedo gave them the freedom of the city during the days, but they had to return to the barracks at night. Each was given a little money every day to buy food, but nothing to replace the rags they wore.
    One night when they returned to the barracks to be counted, an officer beckoned to Stephen Richards to follow him. Stephen didn’t return that night; in the morning when Ellis saw him in a Spanish uniform, he seemed embarrassed. “They let me out to join the army,” he mumbled. “I’m leaving for Nacogdoches in a few days.”
    â€œHow come?” Ellis asked.
    â€œI don’t know. I didn’t expect it,” he replied, not looking Ellis in the face.
    â€œI know why they did it, and he knows,” Ellis said to Duncan later. “It’s the reward for his father telling them where to find us. It’s not Stephen’s doing, but I don’t blame him for not wanting to see us.”
    Duncan and Ellis wandered about Chihuahua, grateful for at least this much freedom. The city, mostly adobe houses with flat roofs, had a population of about seven thousand. In the public plaza stood the principal church, which dwarfed the royal treasury building and the shops. The prisoners found the people friendly.
    The upper classes ate well, lived in comfortable houses of adobe bricks, and amused themselves by playing cards and betting on cock fights. The poor lived in one-room jacalos of sticks and mud and ate scrawny chickens, cheap beef ,frijoles, and tortillas.
    Every evening the upper class families gathered at the public walks on the south side of the city under three rows of trees. At each end of the walks were circular seats where people played guitars and sang songs in Spanish and French. Ellis and Duncan greatly admired the sparkling-eyed young ladies, who wore short jackets, petticoats, and shoes with high heels. Over their dresses, unmarried girls always wore a silk shawl, and when men were near, modestly drew it across their faces, leaving only one eye exposed. “With that thing over their faces, you can’t tell if they’re smilin’ or frownin’ at you,” Ellis remarked. “Don’t seem fair.” At nine each night the paseo ended and everyone went home, for after that hour soldiers stopped anyone found on the streets.
    Several of the prisoners, including David Fero, Joel Pierce, and Zalmon Cooley, received permission to move to San Carlos or other towns. Brawny Thomas House, who worked as a blacksmith in Chihuahua, exchanged letters with Fero and Cooley on plans for escaping. House warned the others not to trust Jonah Waters, for he remembered Waters repeating his remarks to Nolan. Waters worked as a hatter in Chihuahua.
    â€œWe’ve got to find a way to earn some money or we’ll