By Jim Warren

Victoria, Texas
October 12, 1850

Dear Mom,

Well, we found a good rock crossing about a mile upstream from the mission Espiritu Santo and got everyone on this side without another bath. The Lt. left two men to watch the horses in the mission yard and everbody else fanned out in town looking for McDonough and the mule. Valentin and I went straight to the nearest saloon, not for a drink, but because we knew Rory and how he liked "ardent spirits" and, sure enough, the barkeep said "Smith" had been hanging around town for about a week with the local rowdies. In fact one of them was in the saloon and we got to talk to him. He didn't want to cooperate at first, but the barkeep threatened him with his bar bill and we took him out in the alley to "talk" and he came right around. He said that he and his friends, including "Smith," were whooping it up at the mission the day we rode in, and when "Smith" saw us he ducked into a tamal stand and hid until we left. Then he went straight to the shack he was staying in and he and the mule left in a cloud of dust on the Victoria road.

Well, we hustled around till we found the Lt., and then it took a couple of hours to get the troop assembled and we struck out on the Victoria road. We camped that night on the open prairie and early the next morning, before we left, one of the local ranchers came by and said we were camping on the spot where Col. Fannin and his troops were captured by the Mexicans during the Texan conflict in 1836. I'm glad we didn't know it before. It gave everybody a funny feeling to know they were sleeping on a battlefield where men had been killed just 14 years ago!

Anyway, we struck off again on the trail of the infamous "Smith and Co." We made it to Victoria just before dark, but couldn't cross because the Guadalupe River was running bank full due to heavy rains upstream. Just before it got real dark, one of the troopers who was down at the river checking whether it was rising or falling said he saw a man riding a mule on the other bank who sure looked familiar, but it was too dark to say for sure if it was "Smith."

In the morning we hollered across to some fishermen and they said there was a ferry about two miles upsteam. We rode on up there and got all across without mishap, but the horses sure didn't like riding that ferry! I didn't either for that matter! We had to blindfold the horses and I thought they might have to blindfold me! The water was rough and was flowing real swift, and I thought any minute the ferry would tump over or break loose from the ropes and we would wind up in the Gulf of Mexico. But it didn't, and we all got across in good shape.

We found a high spot above the river to leave the horses and gear and the Lt. left four of us here to clean the weapons that got wet when we crossed the San Antonio at Goliad the other day. Speaking of which, I better get busy and clean my share or get in trouble. The rest of the troops went into town looking for signs of "the Smith gang." Write soon.

Your son,
Henry

(Jim Warren is an archaeologist living in George West.)