Bowie yelled at Travis. “There’s no chance of reaching an agreement with Santa Anna now.” “There was no chance before,” Travis said. “At least now he knows we will fight for independence.” Juan stepped between the two men. “We can’t fight amongst ourselves. What’s done is done. We need to figure out how we can hold off Santa Anna’s army until more men get here.” Travis walked over and sat down behind his desk. Bowie leaned against a wall and began to cough. Juan looked from one man to the other, and then he looked at Davy Crockett, who was standing in a corner with his arms folded. “What do you think, Davy?” Juan asked. Davy took off his coonskin hat and rubbed his head. “I think we’re in a fine mess. But it’s going to be worse if we can’t agree. We don’t have many men, but the ones we have will fight. If we pull together we can hold out until Houston gets here with his army.” “I agree,” Juan said. “You two must get along. You are the leaders.
