What an odd combination.

The story starts below the following dashed line...

A Man to Ash

A Tejano anxiously shifted as he paced from across the room. The Captain's heart was torn in two. He wanted to stay, he had to, for his men's moral security. Or perhaps even his own.  His heart pounded as if to penetrate his chest. He lowered the brim of his hat to mask his concern from his fellow Tejanos, if their leader was to show even the slightest hint of hesitance, they were bound to follow in his footsteps. 

"Seguin," Said the young lieutenant-colonel shattering the disturbing silence, "I need to ask you a favor."

The two exited the room, heightening the tension between the soldiers. None of them spoke a single word. Travis reentered the room, but Seguin was seemingly nowhere in sight. The young man lowered his head. His eyes deeply concentrated upon the floor. How on Earth could he break the news?

The Tejano reluctantly saddled Bowie's barrowed horse. His poor bedridden friend wouldn't need it, at least for now. Beneath the pale light proved from the cratered moon in the starry night sky, Seguin headed out into the enemy lines. 

• The pounding of the drums awoke him from his nightmare. However, this time he was living one. He rubbed the deep dark bags beneath is bloodshot eyes and instantly stood. The letter of his final plea for military assistance would have to wait. Aware of the odds he felt his heart pound. Anxiously, he looked upon his finger and there it was, the ring.

     A gentle summer's breeze spooked his spine as he unbuttoned his white wrinkled shirt in preparation of his crossing. He then slipped off into the river beneath a black blanked sky and swung his arms in the clear blue water, before aimlessly groping about to find land on the other side. Once a firm grip was established upon solid ground he readied to place down his other hand, though it failed to reach the destination of his original intent and was interlocked with the hand of his beloved. 

"R-Rebecca," he stuttered in slight surprise, "I wasn't expecting..."

"Shh," she whispered as she brought a finger to his lips, "I have something for you."

       His irises laid intently upon the solid gold band equipped with a green cat's eye stone. This was all he had left of her. Suddenly, there was a knock on the door. A woman entered as she cradled a toddler with her fatigued arms. 

       "Travis?" She softly spoke.

        His eyes remained focused on the ring. His mind was off in a distant memory of his mistress. Never again would they ever be together. The night upon him at this very moment could possibly be his last. 

        "Excuse me, sir..." She whispered as she touched his shoulder. 

         "Oh my!" He cried, spooked from the unexpected contact, he nearly jumped out of his skin, "Forgive me Mrs. Dickenson."

         "Bowie, was looking for you..." She replied.

         "Tell him that I'll be heading over soon, I just was in the middle of..."

          His eyes fell upon the young girl in the woman's arms. She sheepishly buried her face in her mother's blouse upon the first second of eye contact. He smiled. 

          "Don't worry, little one," He whispered to the child, "I don't bite."

           The girl reveled her face  and giggled. 

           "I'd like you to have this," He said as he removed his ring.

           "Travis," the woman cried, "That isn't necessary..." 

            The young man proceeded to take off his ring and placed it in the young girl's hand. He gave her a gentle smile. 

            "Take care of it," he whispered, "little one."

• With the lack of ammo and not a single bayonet in sight, he formed a fist and relentlessly stuck a nearby Mexican solider repeatedly until the man had passed. He then proceeded to wipe the blood from his pale chapped lips as a midnight breeze ruffled his auburn wavy locks beneath a deathly pale moon. In his red splattered makeshift uniform, he turned to the right reveling an older man with a deep concern within his hazel eyes and his coonskin cap barely managing to maintain its place upon his head.

  "Travis!" He cried, "Behind you!"

  The young man quickly turned to face that would be the final face he would ever see. The face of the enemy. A young Mexican boy, no older than seventeen loaded a rifle. His eyes showed no mercy, just a blank pair of dark brown eyes, mortified by the horrors of war. Carefully, the boy aimed. Nearly dexterously despite the lack of formal training, he pulled the trigger. The young man's gray-blue eyes widened. He bit his lips to prevent himself from showing a sign a weakness from the impact of the blow. He fell to his knees for the bullet had blown straight through his forehead.

  Santa Anna was no stranger to this young man. He stood over the corpse completely disgusted. He mumbled a few profanities in Spanish before commanding his men to strike a match. The lifeless Texan Lieutenant was dragged to the flames that consumed his body until they were nothing but a pile of ashes.