Celia Hayes | May 26, 2009
A number of summers ago, when I was still stationed in Spain, I packed up my daughter, and a tent and all the necessary gear, and did a long looping camping tour of the southern part of Spain, down through the Extremadura, and to the rock of Gib al Tarik, and a long leisurely drive [...]
Celia Hayes | April 29, 2009
“Sabine!” called Mama from the bottom of the garden where she was making soap on a mild spring day. Mama did not wish to bring the smell of wood-ash lye and tallow near to the house, or the heat of the fire that it bubbled over, “Will you bring me more wood now!?” “Yes, Mama,” [...]
Celia Hayes | March 17, 2009
The Mexican soldiers came to march them away from the old citadel on the seventh day after Colonel Fannin had surrendered under a white flag. His little command of volunteers and militia had fought doggedly and hopelessly for a day and a night, pinned down in the open just short of Coleto Creek, tormented beyond [...]
Celia Hayes | January 11, 2009
If English Jack had another name – or even if that was his real one – only Fredi Steinmetz., the trail boss for the R-B outfit knew of it. He had turned up at their camp, just as the hands were preparing to swim the herd across the Colorado River a little south of Austin [...]
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