Chapter One
The young man walked carefully through the dusty yard. He stopped in front of the old wooden door and wiped the dust from his shoes. He knocked on the door and waited for someone to let him in. Finally the door opened and a small boy looked up at him.
“Hello,” the man said. “My name is Charles Edwards. I’m a reporter with the newspaper. I’d like to speak to Mr. Pablo Gomez.”
The small boy opened the door wider and motioned the man inside. It took a few minutes for the man’s eyes to adjust to the dim interior of the home. The thick adobe walls made the inside of the house feel cool. The young man removed his hat and followed the boy into another room. An old man sat in a rocking chair staring into an empty fireplace. The boy stopped in front of the old man.
“Grandfather. There’s a man here who wants to talk to you.”
The old man raised his head. He blinked his eyes as he looked at the visitor. The reporter held his hand toward the old man.
“Mr. Gomez? I’m Charles Edwards. I work for the newspaper. I’d like to talk to you.”
The old man took the reporter’s hand. His hand was old and wrinkled, but the reporter noticed that the grip was firm.
“Why would you want to talk to me?” he asked.
“Mr. Gomez, I’ve heard that you are one of the last living members of the army that fought for Texas independence. I’m writing a story on the fight for independence, and I believe you can give me some information that I can’t find anywhere else. I want to tell about things that happened that no one has written about before. Will you talk with me?”
The old man motioned toward a chair. The reporter sat down facing the old man.
“You want to talk to me about the fight for independence?” The old man leaned back in his chair. “That was a long time ago. I was young then. Like you are now. There were many of us who were young then. There aren’t too many left now. I don’t know if I can remember what happened back then. My mind isn’t as clear as it used to be.”
“Mr. Gomez, I think that people will be interested in the story you can tell. You knew the great heroes of Texas. You can tell everyone what really happened. It will let the children of Texas, like your grandson, know what these men did for them. How they gave them the chance to enjoy the freedoms they have today. I believe that people need to know the story of their past. What better place to hear that story than from a man who was there? A man who lived the story with all the great men, like Davy Crockett, Jim Bowie, William Travis, and Sam Houston. You can provide a great service to the children of Texas by telling your story.”
The old man leaned back in his chair. He closed his eyes and rocked slowly back and forth. He was quiet for several moments. The reporter thought he had fallen asleep. He started to get out of his chair and wake the old man. Suddenly the old man’s eyes opened. The reporter noticed a light in his eyes that had not been present earlier. A smile formed on the old man’s lips. He looked at the reporter and nodded his head.
“Yes. I was there, and I knew the great men you spoke of. I knew Davy Crockett and Jim Bowie and William Travis and Sam Houston. I knew others too. All of them brave men. All of them willing to fight—and if necessary, to die—so that Texas could be free from the harsh rule of Santa Anna. I shared many hardships with these men. I’ll tell you about those days and the men you mentioned. But there is one man I knew that had much to lose by fighting for Texas. One man who did all he could to see that Texas would be a free land. I want to tell you about this man. This was my good friend…Juan Seguin.”
Chapter Two
I REMEMBER THE FIRST TIME I MET Juan Seguin. I was ten years old and my father had been hired to work on the rancho of Juan’s father, Don Erasmo Seguin. Don Erasmo was an important man. He was the postmaster of San Antonio, and he owned many acres of
The young man walked carefully through the dusty yard. He stopped in front of the old wooden door and wiped the dust from his shoes. He knocked on the door and waited for someone to let him in. Finally the door opened and a small boy looked up at him.
“Hello,” the man said. “My name is Charles Edwards. I’m a reporter with the newspaper. I’d like to speak to Mr. Pablo Gomez.”
The small boy opened the door wider and motioned the man inside. It took a few minutes for the man’s eyes to adjust to the dim interior of the home. The thick adobe walls made the inside of the house feel cool. The young man removed his hat and followed the boy into another room. An old man sat in a rocking chair staring into an empty fireplace. The boy stopped in front of the old man.
“Grandfather. There’s a man here who wants to talk to you.”
The old man raised his head. He blinked his eyes as he looked at the visitor. The reporter held his hand toward the old man.
“Mr. Gomez? I’m Charles Edwards. I work for the newspaper. I’d like to talk to you.”
The old man took the reporter’s hand. His hand was old and wrinkled, but the reporter noticed that the grip was firm.
“Why would you want to talk to me?” he asked.
“Mr. Gomez, I’ve heard that you are one of the last living members of the army that fought for Texas independence. I’m writing a story on the fight for independence, and I believe you can give me some information that I can’t find anywhere else. I want to tell about things that happened that no one has written about before. Will you talk with me?”
The old man motioned toward a chair. The reporter sat down facing the old man.
“You want to talk to me about the fight for independence?” The old man leaned back in his chair. “That was a long time ago. I was young then. Like you are now. There were many of us who were young then. There aren’t too many left now. I don’t know if I can remember what happened back then. My mind isn’t as clear as it used to be.”
“Mr. Gomez, I think that people will be interested in the story you can tell. You knew the great heroes of Texas. You can tell everyone what really happened. It will let the children of Texas, like your grandson, know what these men did for them. How they gave them the chance to enjoy the freedoms they have today. I believe that people need to know the story of their past. What better place to hear that story than from a man who was there? A man who lived the story with all the great men, like Davy Crockett, Jim Bowie, William Travis, and Sam Houston. You can provide a great service to the children of Texas by telling your story.”
The old man leaned back in his chair. He closed his eyes and rocked slowly back and forth. He was quiet for several moments. The reporter thought he had fallen asleep. He started to get out of his chair and wake the old man. Suddenly the old man’s eyes opened. The reporter noticed a light in his eyes that had not been present earlier. A smile formed on the old man’s lips. He looked at the reporter and nodded his head.
“Yes. I was there, and I knew the great men you spoke of. I knew Davy Crockett and Jim Bowie and William Travis and Sam Houston. I knew others too. All of them brave men. All of them willing to fight—and if necessary, to die—so that Texas could be free from the harsh rule of Santa Anna. I shared many hardships with these men. I’ll tell you about those days and the men you mentioned. But there is one man I knew that had much to lose by fighting for Texas. One man who did all he could to see that Texas would be a free land. I want to tell you about this man. This was my good friend…Juan Seguin.”
Chapter Two
I REMEMBER THE FIRST TIME I MET Juan Seguin. I was ten years old and my father had been hired to work on the rancho of Juan’s father, Don Erasmo Seguin. Don Erasmo was an important man. He was the postmaster of San Antonio, and he owned many acres of
Similar Books
