As the weeks sped, Ernest met a number of Texans who were as prominent as Colonel James Bowie. There was Colonel Ben Milam, a Kentuckian who had fought in the War of 1812; had been an Indian trader in Texas before the American settlements; and a leader in Mexico when the people first tried to obtain a republican form of government; and a prisoner there, and afterwards had been rewarded by a large tract of land, and now had another tract, for a colony, but was unable to settle it because of the Indians. A dark, handsome man was Colonel Benjamin R. Milam, who spent much of his time over in Coahuila province.
There was Captain William Barret Travis, from North Carolina, who last summer, at Anahuac on the Gulf coast of East Texas, had been thrown into a dungeon by a tyrannical Mexican official, for resisting some brutal soldiery. Only twenty-two was William Travis. His home was down on Galveston Bay, near Anahuac, but Ernest once saw him while on a trip to San Felipe—a lithe, boyish six-footer, with round freckled face, reddish hair, and steel blue eyes. People said that he was all nerve; nothing could daunt him.
There was “Deaf” Smith, whose real name was Erasmus Smith, but who was hard of hearing. Texas was a great place for nicknames. A small, spare, leathery-faced and wrinkled-faced man was “Deaf” Smith, of New York, who kept very much to himself and rarely had anything to say to anybody. He had come to Texas in 1817, and in 1825 had been one of the first settlers at Gonzales. He had married a Mexican woman and now lived at San Antonio. He was a famous hunter and Indian scout.
And in Gonzales itself there was Colonel Green DeWitt, the founder of the colony and of the town: a rather heavy-set, full-faced, smooth-shaven gentleman, with wavy hair well brushed down, a pleasant smile, and courtly manners. His family were with him.
There was Major James Kerr, the other founder of the town. But he had lost his wife and two children. A little girl was in the care of friends at San Felipe.
There was Captain Matthew Caldwell, an Indian fighter. He was one of the early settlers, and was called “Old Paint” Caldwell because his ruddy complexion was blotched with white.
There was Almeron Dickinson, not far turned twenty, who had settled away out here, found a pretty wife, and was one of the most popular citizens, and altogether a splendid young man.
And there was Ezekiel Williams, the first officially-elected alcalde or mayor, who had come out in 1829, and now lived in the “outer” town, seven miles up the river. And James B. Patrick, the new alcalde; and Almond Cottle, the new sindico or town attorney; and Byrd Lockhart, the surveyor; and Winslow Turner, of Turner’s two-story hotel; and Eli Mitchell, who had a large house; and Dr. Thomas R. Miller, at whose house the council sometimes met; and the McCoys (seven of them), some of whom were original settlers; and the two McClures (Abe and Bart); and the Fulshears (Ben, Churchill and Graves); and the Jacob Darst family, where there was a boy about Ernest’s age; and Andrew Ponton, the smart Frenchman; and bold John Castleman, who contemplated moving on west; and the Fuquas, and Tumlinsons, and Zumwalts, and a lot more, of the “inner” town and the “outer” town—all forming a large family in which scarcely anybody was over fifty, and the majority were under forty.
These and others Ernest met or heard of while Texas awaited word from Stephen Austin at the City of Mexico. He wrote about them and about his fun and work in letters to his mother; he had already told her of the death of Sergeant John Andrews at the hands of the Indians. He did not know when his letters would get to her, and he never knew when to expect replies; for the only way by which mail went and came was by accommodating travellers. A regular mail service was one thing that Texas was demanding from Mexico. Ernest hoped that his mother was not worrying. She said she wasn’t—but mothers sometimes say this anyway.
The summer of 1833 waxed and waned. At Gonzales a flat-boat ferry was built and placed on the river, for crossing back and forth. Report from the east claimed that great numbers of fresh settlers had entered Texas; which was good. But from the southwest, reports out of old Mexico stated that Santa Anna was still scheming on his ranch, that cholera had broken out and that 10,000 persons had died in the City of Mexico alone, and that congress was unable to hold regular sessions. Over in Coahuila the Mexican people were still quarrelling about the location of the state capital, the governorship, and other matters; and nothing that the legislature did, meeting at Monclova, pleased the people of Saltillo, the former capital.