Jim Bowie by Robert E. Hollmann

San Antonio. I raced alongside Jim’s horse. The thought of all that steak made me run faster. One of the scouts that Jim had sent ahead of us came riding back as fast as he could. Jim stopped the men and waited for the scout. The scout’s horse was breathing hard as he came to a stop in front of Jim.
    “The caravan is about a mile away,” he said, pointing in the direction he had come from.
    “How many men are there?” Jim asked.
    The scout took off his hat and scratched his head.
    “I would say about one hundred fifty to two hundred. They don’t seem to be in any hurry to move along.”
    Jim nodded.
    “Good. That means they’re not worried about being attacked.”
    Jim looked around the prairie. “Let’s head in that direction. We can get ahead of them and cut them off.”
    We rode hard for a couple of miles. We came to a grove of trees next to a small stream. Jim signaled the men to stop.
    “We’ll wait here. Let your horses rest. Keep in the trees so the enemy can’t see you. When they get in front of that little hill, we’ll attack.”
    The men waited in the trees and watched for the enemy to appear. Suddenly the lead riders came over the rise. We waited until the whole column was at the bottom of the little hill. They were riding in a long line. There were no scouts searching the area, and I could hear the soldiers talking as they rode slowly along. Jim gave the signal, and the men fired at the surprised enemy soldiers. They tried to form a line to fight us, but we charged at them and they began to run.
    I saw a soldier trying to lead a mule away. I saw the bags hanging on the sides of the mule and I thought about the gold in the sacks and how many steaks that would buy. I ran at the soldier and bit him in the seat of his pants. He yelled and swung his rifle at me. The rifle hit me in the side, and I rolled in the tall grass. I got to my feet and started to attack the soldier again. He raised his rifle to shoot at me. I jumped to the side as the rifle fired. The bullet hit the ground next to me. I barked and ran toward the soldier. He turned and ran away, leaving the mule with his packs.
    The firing had stopped, and I saw the Texans rounding up the mules. Soon all of the mules were standing in a line. Jim walked up to the first mule and pulled out his knife.
    “Let’s see how much gold this mule can carry,” he said.
    He sliced the sack open. The men watched with great interest. My stomach growled as I thought of all the juicy steaks the gold would buy. Jim reached his hand into the sack and pulled out a handful of…grass. He held it up for the men to see.
    “Looks like there’s no gold here,” he said.
    One of the men called out. “Check some more. They might have packed grass around the gold to keep it from clanking.”
    Jim reached his hand into the sack again. I saw him feeling around in the sack. He pulled his hand out again, and once again he had a handful of grass.
    The men murmured with disappointment. Finally one of them yelled to Jim. “This mule probably carries the grass to feed the other mules. Check some of the others.”
    Jim walked to the next mule. This mule also carried only grass. My stomach growled with hunger as I watched Jim walk down the line of mules and check their loads.
    Each time he pulled out several handfuls of grass. At last he reached the end of the line. None of the mules carried any gold. The men walked away. They were all disappointed. The scout who had found the caravan walked up to Jim.
    “What do you think happened to the gold, Jim?”
    Jim looked at the open sacks hanging from the mules with grass showing through the openings.
    “I think we got the wrong information. This group was gathering grass to feed the enemy’s horses in San Antonio. I don’t know where the story about the gold came from.”
    The scout laughed. “Well, I guess everybody back with the army will have a good laugh about the grass fight.”
    “I guess they will,” Jim agreed. He