[Texas Rangers 06] - Jericho's Road Read Online Free PDF Page B

operations now that they no longer slept with their guns, worrying about Indian raids. German enclaves such as Friedrichsburg and Neu Braunfels had sunk deep roots. The hill country had appealed to Andy from the first time he saw its long green valleys, its bubbling springs, its clear-running creeks and rivers. Someday, if he ever left the Rangers, he thought he could make a life for himself there.
    Traveling at a pace that would not be hard on the horses, Andy and Farley took two days traveling from Austin to San Antonio. Farley said, “Last chance for a little relaxation. Ain’t goin’ to be much fun from here south.”
    “ If you’d had much more fun in Austin you’d still be there.”
    “ It’ll be all business when we get to the border. Go on ahead if you want to, but whatever trouble they got down there can wait another night or two.”
    Andy did not feel like arguing. “We can tell them we needed to rest the horses.” He would welcome the chance to look around the historic city. “We’ll need to find Ranger headquarters.”
    “ Tomorrow is soon enough. If they know we’re here they’ll want us to start south right away whether our horses are tired or not.”
    Andy had never been to San Antonio, though he had heard many stories about its turbulent past. The town had been a crossroads of early Texas history. Several pitched battles had been fought there, first for Mexico’s freedom from Spain and later for Texas’s freedom from Mexico. Though other cities in the state were rapidly gaining in importance, San Antonio remained the jewel in its crown—if a sprawl of picket jacales and single-story buildings of stone and adobe could be considered a jewel.
    As soon as they found a convenient wagon yard and put their horses away, Farley disappeared. He had been to San Antonio in his hell-raising days after the war and knew where he wanted to go. Andy asked the stable’s manager how to find the Ranger headquarters, then walked about, familiarizing himself with the center of town. Street traffic was heavy. A man had to look both ways before crossing over lest he be stepped on or rolled over by horses, wagons, and ox-drawn carts with high, solid wooden wheels that groaned and squealed on dry hubs.
    He had known the population would be heavily Mexican, but seeing it for himself made him feel like an outsider. As a boy with the Comanches he had listened to Kiowas talking. He had felt helpless because he could not understand a word. He found himself just as lost trying to decipher some meaning from the Spanish he heard spoken all about him.
    He had learned Comanche and relearned English. With time he should be able to pick up at least enough Spanish to get him by, he thought.
    A strong German element was also evident, spilled over from early immigrant settlements founded in the 1840s. He despaired of ever learning to speak German. Spanish would be challenge enough.
    He came unexpectedly upon what he recognized as the Alamo, at least the battle-scarred remains of the church that had been the center of the original mission complex. Much of the rest was gone, lost to new construction and bustling commercial uses. He was disappointed to find that even the old sanctuary had been turned into a warehouse. He thought it an undignified fate for a building where brave men had fought, bled, and died for Texas. Perhaps it would someday be turned into a shrine befitting the blood sacrifice that patriots of both Texas and Mexico had made there.
    In the Ranger office Andy looked at a map that appeared to be the same as the one on Major Jones’s Austin wall except that more trails had been added, some ranches and small towns penciled in. A lieutenant traced one of the trails with his finger. “With some exceptions, you’ll find most white ranchers friendly to the Rangers. With some exceptions, you’ll find most Mexicans distrustful and unfriendly. Both sides have cause.” He turned back to face Andy. “Have you got anything