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Brigadier General Martin Perfecto de Cos was shocked by what he had seen. The corpse still laid in the hall had been cleaned, re-dressed, and prepared to travel tomorrow, it was that man's own fault for dying because of his reckless arrogance. The shock had come from the three men standing in front of him, the 'committee' from the nearby 'fort' that had valiantly held their position for six days despite overwhelming odds. Only one of the three spoke Spanish, the other two were very much Yanquis by appearance. One was educated, spoke well, and seemed to have a position of command without the gravitas it normally provided, perhaps that was his youth or poorly disguised fear. The other man was just too calm to have been there, the rat carcass on his head and jacket betrayed the rising temperatures but the legend of this 'Tennessean' had already grown such that some of his men knew of him. Rumored to kill bears with his bear hands, make cities out of forests, and hit so hard as to kill in one blow, Cos thought his reputation greatly exaggerated until earlier that morning. David Crockett was rumored to be the best shot in North America, and killing Antonio Lopez de Santa Anna at almost 300 yards was certainly impressive. He then repeated the feat by killing one of the colonels, Juan Bringas, with a bullet to the head upon trying to see if Santa Anna was alive and might be able to recover with medical attention. "So do we have a deal"?, the man in the ratskin hat uttered as the translator spoke only a few seconds later.

Cos had gathered this much, of the defenders in the fort the true leader was so ill he could hardly move and the 'official' commander was the man Guillermo Travis...the name for him in English would be William, he thought...and the real commander was James Bowie. But Bowie was ill and needed medical attention, the regimental surgeon had been permitted to see him and to gather reconnaissance as best he could. Cos had asked for terms an hour ago, the triad of Yanquis having arrived ten minutes ago with a written list including permission to evacute the 'fort' with two days head start and for Bowie to stay behind and receive medical attention. Otherwise, the fort would be theirs to take. Cos knew his reinforcement were close, once they arrived he could lead them to crush this 'Republic of Texas' and every traitor to Mexico in it. Cos spoke to his translator who replied, "We have a deal, Mr. Crocket".

"Why did you ask for me to come be here, General? I see no reason why I should be part of the negotiations if I am not in command", noted Crockett.

The translator spoke to Cos who laughed briefly, clearly the weight of having to explain the death of Santa Anna to his wife, Santa Anna's sister, was not on his mind at the moment. He spoke something slowly and deliberately to the translator who began to sweat as Cos concluded. "Mr. Crockett, no harm intended, but I did not summon you here to be part of the negotiations. I asked you to come that I might get a look at your face that I might kill you should we ever meet again on the battlefield".

Crockett smiled and tipped his cookskin cap. "Look for the hat, I'll be happy to see you again then".

Cos then handed Crockett a small object wrapped in cloth and spoke again to the translator. "Clearly you need the bullets", came the voice of the translator, "and you're losing time gentlemen. I will hunt you, I will find you, and I will kill you God willing. Now be gone from my sight and if you are wise go back to the United States form whence you came"!

Crockett left the hut and unwrapped the small cloth, the bullet having somehow been preserved remarkably well. It still weighed about one ounce, but Crockett thought it had been cast too quickly, only the front half was circular and the back half looked elongated...
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