Gone to Texas by Don Worcester Page A

must go to the stables, where he will remove them. Then a man on the wall will lower a rope to pull you up and bring you to me. With me you’ll be safe.”
    Ellis thought about it some more, recalling Manuel Moreno’s assurance that his influential friends would secure his release. If I try to escape I may fail, and they won’t be able to help me after that. Then he remembered the men who’d escaped at Nacogodoches, and the calamity that it had meant for the others.
    â€œI can’t do it,” he told her solemnly. “It wouldn’t be fair to my friends, for they’d surely suffer for it.”
    â€œYour first duty is to yourself,” María said firmly. “God will take care of your friends. I have money and horses; you will have whatever you want without risk of recapture. I have haciendas —you can stay at any of them, and no one will ever know.”
    Ellis was rising on his elbows, ready to accept her offer, when a soldier called the prisoners to their evening meal. “Come to me early in the morning,” Maria said, and told him where to find her.
    Ellis thought of nothing else that night, and slept fitfully. One moment he was ready to go; the next he was sure it would be a mistake. If they recaptured him, or if her husband found out, no telling what would happen. In Mexico City, Moreno’s friends would free him without such risks.
    Still undecided, at daybreak he asked the officer in command of the cavalry for a soldier to accompany him to a shop, then hurried to the house where María waited by an open window, a gray shawl framing her oval face. Ellis gave the soldier a coin and told him to buy some spirits. “I’ll wait for you here,” he said.
    â€œIt’s now or never,” Maria told him. “There’s no time to lose. I can hide you so you’ll never be found.”
    â€œAre you absolutely sure?” he asked. “If they find me, they’ll probably shoot me.”
    â€œYes, yes,” she said impatiently. “Trust me and have no fear. Soon we will be able to ride away together. Though I’m part Indian, I know you’re too honorable to abandon me. But we must hurry!”
    Ellis gazed at her lovely face, his thoughts racing. It just might work out, and if he wasn’t discovered, they could make it to the States one day. He’d be proud to have her for his wife. While she fidgeted nervously, he thought again about Moreno’s assurance. But supposing his friends failed? What then?
    â€œHurry!” María exclaimed.
    â€œAll right,” he said, “I’ll chance it.” Just then, the soldier shouted, and Ellis turned to see him running toward them.
    â€œThe captain says to come pronto ,” he said, breathing hard. “They’re ready to leave and are waiting for you. Don’t make him angry at both of us.”
    Ellis turned to María, holding his hands out with palms upward in a gesture of resignation. “Adios, my lady,” he said. “I’ll never forget you.” Then, as best he could in his shackles, he hurried after the soldier.
    â€œGo with God, señor," Maria called after him, tears streaming down her face.
    Another week of travel through the mountains brought-them to the Valley of Mexico, and Ellis gazed down in awe at the splendid city. As soon as they free me, he thought, I’ll go back and find María. The prisoners were immediately confined with several hundred other culprits. Ellis watched for Moreno’s friends, wondering how long it would take them to obtain his release. The third day, a well-dressed young man came to see him.
    â€œSeñor Bean,” he said, “Don Ramóon Iglesias sent me to tell you he is working to free you, but it may take a month, maybe many months. He asks if you need money, and advises you to be patient.” Ellis thanked him and shook his head. I have money, and being patient is what I do best, he