"That's true, for now. So perhaps the British are his only recourse. A Texas strongly influenced by Great Britain may result."
"Influenced? Qu'est-çe que vous voulez dire?"
"I mean tied to Britain diplomatically and financially. Texas is like a foal, my dear count. She can barely stand on her time. For the time being she needs support. If she can't get that support from her mother, the United States, perhaps another mare will take an interest in her. How would that play in Versailles, I wonder?"
Saligny pretended to be shocked. "But, m'sieu, our excellent king, Louis Philippe, has gone to great lengths to improve relations between France and Britain. I remind you of his support for Belgian independence, which was a subject very dear to British hearts. No, no, my friend. France knows her vital interests lay in Europe, not the New World."
"For four hundred years power and prestige in Europe has depended upon colonial possessions, Count."
Saligny was delighted. "You are an astute fellow, aren't you, Singletary? That is why I like to talk with you. In this country there are so few men like you—learned, intelligent, cultured."
"You are too kind." Singletary feigned modesty. "I can't help but think, though, that with her hold on the West Indies and her influence with Mexico, if Great Britain takes hold of Texas the Caribbean becomes a British lake, for all practical purposes."
Thoughtfully the French diplomat stroked his waxed mustache. "To that my friend Major Stewart and those he represents aspire. But for Britain to succeed, Houston must be president, n'est pas?"
"Realistically, Houston's chances are good. The people blame Lamar for their economic woes. These are hard times for nearly everyone."
"Then perhaps your people would not be averse to a loan from France."
Singletary sat up and took notice. "Are you saying that you and Lamar have negotiated such a loan?"
"I am saying no such thing. Merely speculating."
"A French loan!" Singletary chuckled. "I'll wager Major Stewart disliked the sound of that!"
Saligny's shoulders moved in a very Gallic shrug. "The British would sign three treaties with Houston were he president—commerce and navigation, a loan agreement, and an agreement to suppress the slave trade."
"The latter is news to me. That wouldn't sit well with some of our planters. They hope for free access to the slave markets in Spanish Cuba."
"What a tangled web we weave." Singletary sighed. "Sir Walter Scott. Such passion. Such culture. He should have been a Frenchman." The chargé d'affaires finished his absinthe. "But I have said too much, I fear. I must retire, and attend to my correspondence. Bonjour, Mi'sieu Singletary. As always, it has been a delightful experience."
Smiling, Singletary watched Saligny go. What a clever dog that Frenchman was! He'd known exactly what he was doing, had said only what he'd intended to say, no more and no less.
The British had made a grievous mistake sending a soldier like Major Stewart, a man lacking the wile necessary to play the diplomatic game. Had he thought that France would join Britain in supporting Houston? Despite Saligny's protestations to the contrary, France and Britain were not entirely amicable, and France most certainly did not want to contribute to the cause of British hegemony in the Caribbean!
A tangled web indeed! Lamar dreamed of a Texas Empire stretching to the Pacific Ocean. Sam Houston desired the annexation of Texas to the United States. The United States feared British influence in Texas, but the slavery issue complicated annexation. Britain wanted to make Texas an economic satellite, and France hoped to undermine British influence in the region.
Enthused, and knowing full well his role in this labyrinth of intrigue, Singletary left the Bullock Hotel and made straight for his office. He had not gone far before someone called out his name. Turning, he saw Major Stewart hurrying after him. Singletary waited for the Englishman to catch up, an amiable smile on his lips. But the smile vanished when Stewart reached him and took him by the lapels and manhandled him into a convenient alley and pinned him against a clapboard wall.
"Mrs. McAllen told me all about you, old boy," said Stewart. "The things you've written about her."
"I didn't make them up."
Stewart bounced him off the wall. "Don't talk. Just listen. You will not mention her again. You will not write about her. Her name will not even pass your lips. Otherwise, you will answer to me. Do I make myself clear?"
Rage kindled in Singletary, but he smothered the fire. Blank-faced, he nodded.
"Splendid." Stewart let go of him. "Have a good day, Mr. Singletary."
Readjusting his coat, shirt, and cravat, Singletary waited until Stewart was out of sight. Then he cut through the alley and made his way to the office of the City Gazette. Seated at his desk, he swept the clutter aside, took pen and paper in hand, and began to write with crisp, angry strokes:
"Recently arrived in Austin, Leah Pierce McAllen, who, as is her custom when her husband it away hunting Comanches, is doing a bit of hunting on her own. This time her prey is a British gamecock. . . ."
Chapter Twenty-five
After making his swing through frontier Texas, meeting with friends and supporters to inform them personally of his intention to dethrone Mirabeau B. Lamar in the upcoming presidential election, Sam Houston returned to Galveston, where he had left his wife, Margaret. Her mother Nancy and sister Antoinette, with husband William Bledsoe, had relocated to Galveston, fully committed now to the speculation in Texas lands which Houston had talked them into.
Things were looking up for Houston. Response to his decision to challenge Lamar had been gratifying, to say the least. Many people were convinced that he was the only man who could rescue the republic from disaster. His financial situation was much improved by a thousand-dollar fee to do some legal work. The only bad news of recent days was the disappearance of Esau and Tom Blue, his two slaves. Houston supposed they had run away to Mexico, and he was sorry to see them go.
Houston took Margaret to the city named in his honor. Their boat worked its way up Buffalo Bayou past the San Jacinto battlefield, and Houston pointed out the big tree beneath which he had lain wounded. A captured Santa Anna, who had tried to disguise himself as a lowly private, had been brought to him there. His ruse had been betrayed by other captured Mexican soldiers who called out "El Presidente!" as he passed by. Margaret told Houston of the day she had first laid eyes on him, when her future husband arrived in New Orleans a couple of weeks after the battle, and how, despite the severe pain of his festering wound, Houston had graciously presented himself to an adoring public.
The Houstons were invited to several parties thrown in their honor by influential citizens. Margaret was mortified to discover that since some of her baggage had been misplaced she had only two rather plain dresses to her name. Though the other ladies wore their finery, the young, dark-haired bride of the Hero of San Jacinto nonetheless captivated all who made her acquaintance; she was, declared one of those present, "as regal in calico as if she were clad in cloth of gold."
Leaving Houston City, the couple traveled north into the piney redlands of East Texas. Their destination was San Augustine, which had elected Houston to the Texas House of Representatives in absentia. Houston learned of the honor after the votes were in, and accepted the job without hesitation. What better platform for the campaign against Lamar than Capitol Square?