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| SIXTEEN YEAR OLD YOUNG LADY |
By: Celia Yeary
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Journal Entry: Fall, 1835, Coastal Plains of Texas
Today
is my 16th birthday. Mama and I have prepared for this most wondrous
occasion for two months. She wanted a beautiful, grown-up dress for me to wear
to my party, so she sought the services of Miss Georgia Milam to create a very
special gown. No longer shall I wear calico, nor style my hair in braids, nor
run and play with my brothers. Ladies do not act in such a manner in our household,
for each member is born to a role, and best we carry out our duties or most
likely face the wrath of Papa.
Secretly,
I shall miss the days of riding my pony bareback across the coastal plains, through
our plantation, chasing my brothers, for all four of them can out-race me every
time. Ah, well, such is the lot of the female persuasion. Now, my brothers
believe they have become my protectors, especially when young gentlemen look my
way. Brazoria County fairly bursts with bachelors, young men, some wealthy,
some poor, but each one seeking a bride to ensconce in his home.
One
young man, Mr. Randolph Long, nears my person at every opportunity, at church
services, all-day dinners, and when Mama and I shop in town. Papa forbids me to
speak with him alone; as a result, our conversations become awkward, as each of
us stumbles on words we know perfectly well. After my party—of which he will
attend!—I plan to speak with him as any grown woman may do with any gentleman
she wishes.
Worrisome
events have surfaced over this part of Texas, though. Papa hears tales in town,
at the saloon, the community hall, and the warehouse, and he brings the stories
home to share with Mama and my brothers. Of course, they all believe they have
protected my delicate ears, but I listen and they do not know.
It
seems a crisis of some sort has arisen in Anahuac, a small place not far from
our home. I am uncertain of its exact location, but the news is that General
Santa Anna sent a small detachment of soldiers to Anahuac to enforce the
collection of customs there and in Galveston. The merchants and the wealthy landowners—such
as my papa—object to this unfair treatment, and when Papa speaks of the Santa
Anna’s army and their ways, he becomes red in the face and begins to pound on
the table!
Now,
just before my party, he tells of a gathering of Mexican troops, more as the days
go by. But the most frightening news comes from Gonzales, where Papa said a
Colonel Domingo de Ugartecha, commander of troops in San Antonio, sent five
cavalrymen to Gonzales to retrieve the six-pound canon that had been provided
four years earlier for defense against the Indians. The Texan officer in charge
hid the canon, telling the military he had no authority to give it up. He sent
out dispatches calling for military aid.
Four
hundred Texans, who worked in a loosely formed military troop, heard the call,
turned from their original destination, Goliad, and marched to Gonzales. One
hundred Mexican soldiers were already there to seize the canon. But a Colonel
Moore and one-hundred and sixty Texans loaded the canon with chains and scrap
iron, and strung a banner across it inscribed “Come and Take It.” Then the
Colonel and his men attacked the Mexican troops, forcing them to retreat to San
Antonio. I wanted to cheer! However, I did not wish to reveal my hiding place
from which I listened avidly of the exciting battles.
Dread
fills my heart, now that I understand what is to come. Papa says we must
prepare, put away our frivolous desires for the present, and do our part to
secure Texas for ourselves. I can only pray the war does not last too long.
My
party will go on, however, and I must end this writing to don my beautiful dark
blue silk gown, adorned with a lovely inset of lace, and an ivory brooch at my
throat. Handsome coils of braid divide the lace from the silk. Underneath, my
pantalets are of the finest linen, and my petticoat is of a fine silk. Mama will
arrange my hair atop my head in a manner befitting a grown young woman. I do
hope I look beautiful, or at least pretty, for a photographer will capture me
in my new gown.
Would
it not be magical if someone two hundred years hence finds my photograph and
wonders about me?
Signed--Elmina
Ingram
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!!Special
Note from author Celia Yeary: The sixteen-year-old young woman in the photo is one of my
real Texas ancestors, but I did not use her real name. I have no idea where she
grew up or lived in Texas. I took the date from the photo, 1835, and used
historical events of the beginning of the Texas Revolution. The story about my
ancestor is fiction, however, a figment of my imagination. I did not find an old journal at all. I wish I had.
I
am a Daughter of the Republic of Texas, with two ancestors fought in the war
with Mexico for Texas Independence.
~*~*~
Please watch for the Summer Anthology titled Cowboy Cravin's--My short story in it is titled:
STARR HIDALGO.
Please watch for the Summer Anthology titled Cowboy Cravin's--My short story in it is titled:
STARR HIDALGO.
All my books can be found at Celia Yeary on
Amazon--and Barnes and Noble.
Every novel, novella, or short story is set in Texas.
Thank you.
*****
Celia Yeary-Romance...and a little bit 'o Texas
