Chapter 1: The King Ranch Connection 060425

     My story is connected to a famous legacy of the Old West. At the same time, I am part of that story. You see, I would have died as a nineteen-year-old grunt in 1967 Vietnam had it not been for my connection to the Old West Legacy of the King Ranch. That legacy is a Christian legacy that remains an integral part of the American fabric today. The ranch itself was established by Captain Richard King. However, the legacy of that physical ranch became much more than that. It was transformed into a spiritual legacy by Richard’s wife, Henrietta Chamberlain King, long after Richard’s death. My personal war experiences put me at the center of events, which later revealed to me how this godly ranch legacy brought hope and life to my entire combat unit years after Henrietta’s death.

     Now, let me begin by taking the reader on a journey back in Texas history, when the King Ranch Legacy was about to be born. The year was 1850. The town was Brownsville, Texas. Seventeen-year-old Henrietta was living on a worn-out riverboat docked on the banks of the Rio Grande River. She was living with her father, her stepmother, and three younger brothers. On that particular day, the rancid, smelly residue of animal skins and sorghum molasses was being scrubbed with lye soap from the decks of the old steamboat Whiteville by family and friends. Still, the smell was barely tolerable enough for its new tenants to carry on their daily activities without gagging. The Chamberlain family had just moved here from Tennessee.

     Henrietta’s father, Hiram, had rented space on the dilapidated riverboat because he had been unable to find suitable quarters in town. The boat not only served as a floating residence for the reverend and his family but also as a church meeting place. Missionary Hiram Chamberlain was starting the very first Protestant church in the lower Rio Grande Valley. The family had moved to Texas from Tennessee, but Hiram was not from Tennessee. He was from Vermont. He and his family were not strangers to frequent moves, although during this period, most Americans lived and died within 50 miles of their place of birth. Hiram was a Presbyterian minister and was also the son of a Presbyterian minister. Some historians have described his faith in God as an intense form of religiosity. Phrases like that are often used as catchy put-downs to describe believers in Christ who diligently seek the guidance of the Holy Spirit in their everyday lives. Hiram was a missionary at heart and had served as a pastor to many people in various places throughout Missouri and Tennessee. However, the greatest thing that he would do for me, and the men who served with me, in the 1st Battalion, 18th Infantry, was to be a great father to his daughter, Henrietta.

     You see, Henrietta had lost her mother at the age of three, and shortly after that traumatic experience, she also lost her first stepmother. Those losses could have been enough to send this young girl’s soul into a tailspin, except for the following two things. Number one, even in the incredibly lonely times after her mother’s death, Henrietta allowed the Holy Spirit to develop in her a deep and abiding love for Christ. Secondly, she was also the beneficiary of a bedrock love coming from her father, Hiram Chamberlain. He never failed to encourage his daughter’s relationship with Christ. One example of this was his bold approach to furthering Henrietta’s education. When she turned fourteen, though they lived in Missouri at the time, he sent Henrietta to a girls’ school in Holy Cross, Mississippi. Sending a young daughter away to private school was a rare step for a father to take during this period in American history. It was just one more proof of Hiram's strong functional love for his daughter. It was these two loving relationships—God and her earthly father, working in tandem—that built a firm foundation in Henrietta’s soul. That foundation allowed her to blossom into a Christ-inspired force, which would later bless many downtrodden families living in the Rio Grande Valley.

     It was a sunlit February day in Brownsville. Henrietta busied herself on the decks of the Ole Whiteville with the routine activities of the day. I am sure Henrietta’s willowy shape, exquisitely chiseled facial features, and her sparkling brown eyes would have caught the attention of every young man on the docks that day. Most, however, would have just looked and marveled. That’s where it would have ended. Why? Because this young girl’s attractiveness was more than physical, and that “more” part could be extremely intimidating. In Henrietta was a bold spiritual magnificence, which at first glance could stop a carnal soul in its tracks, and it just so happened that most, if not all, of the young men on these docks were carnal. As a matter of fact, on this fine February day, one more of that sort of carnal young man was coming around a downstream river bend at this very moment. Unlike those other carnal souls, however, this young man would quickly announce his presence in no uncertain terms.

     The river was not much more than 100 feet across, and it remains the dividing line between the United States and Mexico today. In my mind, it’s easy to imagine Henrietta stopping her chores and joining others as they peered across at the big steamboat, which had been plowing its way up that narrow river, and now it was turning its bow toward the dock. Any newcomers to the area, including the Chamberlain family, enjoyed watching these large monsters. This one was going to dock. It could bring some new faces to their world. That would be good. Now that the war with Mexico had ended, there were just not that many newcomers to this area. Long gone were the two American armies that needed to be resupplied by these big riverboat beasts. “Yes, sir,” they were quite the sight for the average person of that era. Most had now stopped what they were doing entirely and were watching intently as the boat’s bow pointed toward the dock. The distinctive slap, slap, slap sound of its paddleboards hitting the water grew louder and louder.

     The bow came closer and closer. Suddenly, the big wheel stopped, and the bow turned slightly starboard toward the Whiteville. The wheel then reversed itself. The river current caught the bow and pushed it further to starboard. The big paddle now reversed itself again, propelling the boat forward. Its pilot was struggling to keep the big beast within the narrow gap between the Whiteville on his starboard and the dock on his port side. Men were waiting on the docks to catch the big mooring lines, ready to be thrown by men on the boat. The space occupied by the Whiteville created a very narrow passage, indeed. It was apparent that the pilot was very skilled in navigating this narrow gap. He was the twenty-five-year-old captain and also the owner of the Colonel Cross, Richard King.

     Safely docked and the threat of a damaging collision averted, the young Captain Richard King could now vent the boilers, and no, I do not mean the boilers on the Colonel Cross. I mean, the volatile boilers of his soul. You see, Richard was a perfectionist through and through. That was the one human trait that defined his character the most. Like every perfectionist, he had convinced himself that the pursuit of perfection would save him and eventually provide the means to fill the sinkhole deep inside his soul. It was a sinkhole that had been created when he was abandoned by his poverty-stricken parents at the age of nine. Since then, Richard had come to believe that striving to do a thing perfectly was the one thing that would allow him not only to survive, but also thrive in what he had found to be a very hostile world. For Richard, the pursuit of perfection was akin to the pursuit of righteousness. It had curried the favor of those who had made his life easier. It had taken him from being a stowaway, to becoming a cabin boy, and from cabin boy, to riverboat pilot, and finally to becoming a riverboat captain and the owner of his very own riverboat, the Colonel Cross. Like all satanic lies, the belief that someone can achieve success in life by working hard and trying to be perfect is partly true, but only partly.

     Now, Richard was about to exhibit in no uncertain terms the outward manifestation of the frustration that comes to a perfectionist when he crosses paths with imperfection. You see, perfectionists expect everyone else to be perfect, too. When that doesn’t happen, a perfectionist can get very mad. Richard was now as mad as mad could be. Whoever parked the Whiteville in his way was not perfect, or they would have moored the boat in another spot to give more room for other steamboats to dock. Richard would have taken this action, and it’s an action that Richard thought everyone else should take as well. In a perfect world of his own making, this other boat would not have been where it was. Now, in a loud voice, he was going to let the entire world know how he felt.

     An angry spirit arose within Richard like an obedient servant. His face flushed, and his big, burly hands turned white as he grasped the side rails on the deck beside the wheelhouse. He bent slightly forward, looking directly at the Whiteville as if it were a person, before he “let fly.” Then, out it came. It was a string of the same cursing comments spewing forth, which many had used on America’s waterways for years, and which I am sure are still being used today. Isn’t it strange how those curse words never change? As his loud barrage blasted verbal shrapnel across the decks of the Ole Whiteville, no one on the Whiteville dared to answer back or even look his way. I can imagine some mothering souls grasping their children and leading them into the interior of the Old Whiteville in a desperate attempt to shield them from such language. At this point, however, there was one person on the old steamboat who was not willing to ignore such a public display of vile behavior, and she certainly was not going to run from it. Henrietta’s brown eyes flashed as the first vulgar rantings from Richard’s booming voice struck her ears. As others cowered before this disgusting display of filthy bellowing, she immediately acted.

     In my imagination, I can still see her running from the afterdeck to a spot on the Whiteville’s midsection and then stopping directly across from the cussing captain as she initiated her one-woman counterattack. Standing straight, with hands on her hips, in my mind’s eye, I see her immediately delivering a returning salvo of well-chosen words while looking across the way directly into the captain’s eyes. Those few piercing words, whatever they were, spoken in grammatically perfect English and delivered in the tone and phrasing of a rebuking angel, instantly penetrated the very core of Richard’s black heart. It was as though Richard had been struck by the hand of God. At the same time, Richard King’s life would never be the same while in the presence of the woman who now stood before him. Humbled, he stood silent. What could he say? He just gazed into the young woman’s eyes for an instant before turning away. A strange sensation of calmness now came over him, defying all human logic. Like an enraged beast, which the voice of its master had rebuked, he slinked away from the young woman’s view, maneuvering behind some stacked cargo crates to hide from that piercing angelic voice. The shadows on the other side of the wheelhouse concealed him, blending well with the darkness of his soul. This encounter was the first meeting of “the beauty and the beast,” and it was a meeting that would have enormous consequences for the men of the 1st Battalion, 18th Infantry, and me. Also, just like in the story of The Beauty and the Beast, Richard instantly fell passionately in love with Henrietta.

     He tried to hide his feelings from his good Christian friend, Mifflin Kenedy. However, a little later, after the incident on the docks, those feelings came oozing out while discussing a vital business opportunity with Mifflin. As the business conversation paused, Richard nonchalantly started pumping Mifflin for more information about the new minister’s family in town. At the same time, he tried to disguise his true intentions for making this request. Now, Mifflin knew almost everyone in Brownsville, so he would have been the right person to question about the arrival of new people in town, but Richard’s ruse did not fool him in the least. The good Christian believer Mifflin Kenedy was nobody’s fool. He knew almost as soon as Richard opened his mouth, despite Richard’s attempts at asking oblique questions, that the reverend’s daughter had smitten his young friend. Soon afterward, he introduced Richard to Henrietta on the streets of Brownsville, but he also did something else that was especially important. He coached this rough-as-a-cob riverboat captain on how to proceed on a course of action to get to know Henrietta better. Richard’s pierced heart had no choice but to heed Mifflin’s suggestions. One of those suggestions meant that a rough-looking, rough-talking young riverboat captain would occasionally attend Reverend Chamberlain’s church meetings. He was an unchurched sinner who had one thing on his mind each time he darkened the church doors, and it had nothing to do with improving his relationship with the God of heaven and earth. Somehow, he had to make Henrietta his wife. It took four years, but he did it, and I must admit that I can become a little judgmental of Henrietta’s choice of a husband here, especially since the Apostle Paul advised Christians not to become unequally yoked. However, as I review the outcome of this marriage and the positive impact it had on people’s lives, including my own, I find it necessary to remind myself that Paul also said that all things work together for good to those who love God and are called according to His purpose. Henrietta loved God, and I also believe that she was called according to God’s purpose. On the other hand, if Christianity were a crime, there is not enough historical evidence to convict Richard of this crime.

     It is essential to discuss Richard King’s boyhood further in my story. For many years, circumstances and fear dominated almost every significant move Richard made in life. Yet he was one of the roughest, toughest, and most successful men in Texas history during this era. His immigrant parents, while trying to scratch out a living in New York, apprenticed him to a New York jeweler at the age of nine. The resulting abandonment issues caused by that separation plagued Richard for life. After being thrown off this soul-shattering cliff by his parents for the first time, it became much easier for him to jump off the next few cliffs all by himself. He made his first solo jump at the age of eleven and ran from the jeweler. It was a relatively easy jump because he had visited the New York docks enough to familiarize himself with other disgruntled young men who were doing what he was thinking of doing. Most were caught and returned with very little consequence. So, it was. Richard gained the courage to make the jump. He stowed away on the Yankee schooner Desdemona. As with others like him, he was discovered, but unlike most of them, he was not returned to the jeweler. It seems his demeanor and willingness to work hard while aboard impressed the captain of the Desdemona so much that the captain arranged for him to work for a riverboat captain friend of his on the Gulf Coast. Although Richard could have been returned to the jeweler in short order, maybe for a small reward, fortune smiled on him. The riverboat captain was also impressed by Richard’s honest character, initiative, and intelligence. He was so impressed that he unselfishly arranged for him to work for another friend of his, who he thought could better mentor him. Captain Holland was this man’s name, and he was an educated Connecticut man who taught Richard to read and write. Captain Holland treated Richard more like a son than a deckhand. When Richard was in his mid-teens, the captain sent him to live with his two elderly sisters in Connecticut. There, he got some formal schooling. He did well in school. However, after only eight months, Richard was again ready to make another jump. I strongly suspect that the underlying reason for his abrupt departure this time was the fear of being discovered as a runaway apprentice. Connecticut was close to New York and the jeweler. The newspapers were full of ads offering rewards for runaway apprentices. A misspoken word in the wrong person's ears could have easily led to his arrest and then a forced return to that jeweler.

     By the time he ran away from the sisters, Richard had already become comfortable working on riverboats. They provided a sheltered and secure environment for a boy like him. Because they were always on the move, Richard was relatively safe from being caught and sent back into what amounted to nothing more than child enslavement. You see, the jeweler had been using Richard as a house servant to babysit his young children rather than teach him the trade, as was the initial agreement. Life on a riverboat, however, restored much of that chance at life, which he had lost. He could learn a trade while always having a hot meal, a place to sleep, and wages—not much, but a little. How many boys his age, with no parents, could find a way to have all this? Richard was a highly intelligent adolescent who had been abandoned. So, riverboats had to feel comfortable, safe, and liberating. It was a no-brainer for a brawny, quick-witted kid like Richard. Shortly after jumping ship on the sisters, he found work as a deckhand on Captain Henry Penny’s boat in Florida during the Seminole Indian Wars. He spent the rest of his teen years working in these Florida waterways. He worked his way up the ladder to become a pilot in his early twenties, a feat that was no small accomplishment. An achievement like that required a person to have a much better-than-average intellect, as they would have to remember how to navigate sandbars, currents, and obstructions that dotted the long stretches of the river. Piloting also required meticulous attention to detail while navigating a large riverboat in changing river currents and depths. It was also remarkable that Richard assimilated successfully into the riverboat culture. That took a lot more than just learning the boat's technical operations. He emerged at the top of the pecking order, which said a lot about Richard’s ability to adapt.

     It was the Quaker, Mifflin Kenedy, who was responsible for Richard moving to Texas. Richard and Mifflin had met when Mifflin was captain of the riverboat Champion in Florida, and Richard was the boat’s pilot. Later, Mifflin left Richard behind to follow repairs being made to the Champion in Pittsburgh. There, he was offered a job by the Army quartermaster as captain of the new riverboat, Corvette. There was a war with Mexico. The Corvette was being built and sent to Texas to help transport military supplies and troops along the Rio Grande River. Mifflin quickly accepted the job. Not long after Mifflin arrived in Texas, he wrote to Richard, asking him to join him as his pilot on the Corvette. Richard accepted the offer, and that’s how he found himself on his way to Texas. When godly legacies are assembled from nothing, there is always a believer in Christ working behind the scenes. Most of the time, these believers, like Mifflin, never see the bigger picture.

     However, on that February day in 1850, when Richard looked into Henrietta’s eyes for the first time, he was floundering. He was working harder than ever, but slowly sinking under a tidal wave of circumstances. Before the war ended, Richard became Captain of the Colonel Cross, but he soon lost that job, when the war ended. To survive, he invested some of his savings and bought a flophouse, which provided lodging and alcohol to down-and-outers. He did this while waiting for the government to auction off the well-worn surplus riverboats, which the Army no longer needed. These were being disposed of by a slow-moving government auction sale, which finally took place in April of 1849. Richard purchased the Colonel Cross for $750. It had initially cost the government $14,000. The purchase of this riverboat seemed like just the proper break for Richard. He was no doubt the most skilled captain and pilot on the Rio Grande. However, that made little difference. With only his strength, he now faced the task of building a business in a struggling postwar economy. This time, his efforts alone would not be enough to save him. This time, his hard work would not be enough. Richard needed a fresh blessing from God. In this church age, all life on earth advances only through these fresh new blessings, dispensed through the efforts of believers in Christ. Sure, the godless invent, but only the blessings of God can turn that invention into a good thing for humanity. Without God’s blessings, mankind’s creations only further the destruction of all human beings. A residue of past blessings may linger, and devilish counterfeits abound everywhere, but God’s fresh new blessings are manifest only through His people. The river freight business had shrunk considerably. By the time Richard met Henrietta in February of the following year, he was barely scratching out a living. Financially, he was inching toward the rocks aboard an old, worn-out riverboat. To put it bluntly, Richard had now reached the most desolate time of his entire life. Yet, he was about to become a major participant in a legacy too grand for his carnal mind to grasp.

     Many would probably say that the most desperate time in young Richard’s life was when his parents gave him away or when he ran away from the jeweler to become a stowaway on the Desdemona. But oh no! His most desperate time was just before he laid eyes on Henrietta. Young Richard was drowning. At this moment, he had descended into a deep and hopeless place. As he stood cursing at the Ole Whiteville that day, I am sure that he had no idea how close he was to becoming an empty shell. His struggles were fast entangling him tighter and tighter in a web of death. He was fighting the river in a broken-down old riverboat, and the river was winning. If the river had won, not one but many legacies would have been lost. However, God is merciful. He threw Richard a lifeline, and her name was Henrietta.

     There is no mistaking the exact moment when Richard King started winning instead of losing. The winning started the very first day he laid eyes on Henrietta. Before that time, without God, his ability to win was severely limited to his skills alone. Sure, many unbelievers seem to win at life in the short term, but a victorious life cannot be measured in the short span of our lives lived here in this world. The victory I am talking about is an eternal victory wrought by God. Often, this type of victory appears to be a defeat to the world around us. In Richard’s case, it was his wife, Henrietta, who was blessed with the ability to win an eternal victory. However, Richard also shared in that victory. He received the blessings of that victory, not through his own efforts, but through his godly wife, Henrietta. A better way for Richard would have been to find fulfillment in life through a personal relationship with God. However, from that very first moment—as he stood on the Colonel Cross, cursing away—God’s blessings were able to start flowing. His life began to change for the better at that very moment. Why was that? Well, let me tell you. God was now willing to bless Richard because of his impending relationship with Henrietta. Before that moment, God had been severely limited by Richard's own state of mind. Richard had rejected Him. Without the guidance that comes from a personal relationship with God, those larger blessings which God desired to heap directly upon Richard would have become nothing more than destructive enablement. When one is enabled, that enablement will only magnify the destructive effects of sin in our lives.

     Now, as Henrietta and the others listened to his rantings, they had no idea that they were hearing the pleading cries of a man without hope and trapped in a barren existence. Yet, God knew, and God understood. As Richard cussed this, and Richard cussed that, the Lord of all was watching. God knew the end from the beginning. He knew the desolation of Richard’s soul. God also saw the agony of being abandoned by his mother and father and the crushed soul that abandonment had produced. God saw what lay underneath Richard’s festering fears. God also saw the future and knew Richard’s mind. God loved Richard, but sadly, God’s hands were tied because Richard refused to turn his life over to Him.

     God knew that cursing and fist-fighting his way through life would be the only way Richard would choose to vent his frustrations. Throughout his life, Richard never turned to Him. He would always find another way to vent his anger, but at least he would do so before it turned into bitterness. Believe it or not, God can work in a limited way through someone like that, especially if they are willing to listen to a believer who does have a personal relationship with Him. Throughout history, many unbelievers have heeded the advice of believers and achieved better outcomes. God desires to bless His entire creation. However, God will not bless the actions of an unbeliever if those actions ultimately cause further damage to that unbeliever or others. God weighs all things in His balance. He will bless those actions that help build His kingdom. God used some of Richard’s actions to accomplish this through the encouragement of his godly wife, Henrietta. Richard was not a bitter man. All his life, Richard had a natural affection for his wife, “Etta,” which Satan was unable to destroy. All his life, Richard loved his family. Throughout his life, Richard possessed a natural love for his friends. Throughout his life, Richard loved the people who tended to his ranch. God was able to make use of his natural love, not throughout eternity but in a natural sense, during Richard’s lifetime on this earth. You see, loving others, even in a natural sense, can be beneficial to God’s kingdom, though it pales in comparison to the love that comes from first loving God from our new heart.

     Amazingly, God used Mifflin and Henrietta both to rescue the rebellious Richard King. Mifflin approached Richard with a new business opportunity around the same time that he introduced Richard to Henrietta on the streets of Brownsville. Coincidence? I do not think so! The riverboat business faced stiff competition. Even one of the area’s wealthiest merchants, Charles Stillman, who owned several boats, was feeling the pain. Business was so bad that after the war ended, Mifflin had left the river entirely and was trying his hand at land speculation, which didn’t go well. To further exacerbate the business climate in the area, many young Americans who would have brought their new energy to this American frontier were bypassing Texas altogether and heading straight to the gold fields of California. Then it happened, and it happened in a way that could only have occurred through God’s divine intervention. Stillman asked Mifflin to join him as a partner in his riverboat business, hoping that by joining forces with the knowledgeable Captain Mifflin Kenedy, he could turn the riverboat part of his business dealings around. Mifflin’s stellar reputation must have preceded him for Stillman to make such an offer. Mifflin agreed to join Stillman on one condition. The condition was that Stillman would also include his good friend, Richard King, as a partner in the deal. You see, Mifflin’s understanding of the rough-and-tumble business of river boating was remarkable. He realized that he couldn’t do it alone. Mifflin realized that his roughneck, perfectionist friend was just the kind of person they needed to run the day-to-day operations. He needed a hard-driving man whom he could trust, and that man was Richard King. Stillman agreed, so Mifflin approached Richard with the proposition, and Richard accepted under one condition. That condition was huge.

     During the war, Richard had fought this river with riverboats that were designed for rivers back east, not the Rio Grande. They were underpowered and were also prone to running aground in the shallow waters upstream of Brownsville. To prevent this, cargo would have to be offloaded and hauled overland farther, which would cause freight costs to skyrocket. This knowledge prompted Richard to become insistent on two primary conditions before he would become a partner with Stillman. Having attended the river’s school of hard knocks and being a perfectionist to boot, Richard bluntly spoke up, saying that there would only be one way for him to join this partnership. He made it clear that he would not continue doing things the same old way. With that being said, Richard then gave his assessment of what he knew needed to happen. They would need a much sturdier, shallower-draft riverboat that could navigate further upriver into shallow water, and it would require a more powerful steam engine to overcome those strong river currents. That would solve half the problem. To solve the other half of the problem, they would need another boat with a much different design to brave the open waters of the Gulf of America. That boat would be used to relay cargo from the sailing ships at the Port of Brazos Santiago (on the Gulf Coast) to a terminal about fifteen miles upriver at a place called White Ranch. Two boats like these would cost a large sum of money. It would be more money than Mifflin or Richard had seen in their entire lives. However, it was precisely these two conditions that were needed if their partnership were to have any chance of success. Fortunately, they had a partner in Charles Stillman, who was the “Kevin O’Leary” of his day. He agreed to finance the construction of both riverboats. The order and timing of these events were not mere coincidence or good luck. They were the divine intervention of God, and when God intervenes, that intervention always produces consequences that extend far into the future, reaching far beyond anything we can imagine. As I have already said, the timing also coincided exactly with Richard meeting the Chamberlain family for the first time. Stillman approved the idea, and the partnership was formed. So it was. Mifflin followed the construction at the Pittsburgh Shipyard while Richard stayed behind to oversee the day-to-day business on the Rio Grande. He also attended the church in Brownsville whenever he could, and he made sure “he could” at every opportunity. Oh, yes, he probably got involved in one or two fistfights while doing some heavy drinking on the side just to let off steam.

     Richard’s youthful soul had strongholds, but it also had areas that were still largely untarnished. The soul cannot generate light. That can only come from a believer’s living spirit. However, even the soul of an unbeliever can reflect divine light when exposed to true believers in Christ. Richard’s soul was now able to reflect the light generated by Henrietta and the Chamberlain family’s living spirits in Christ. This enlightened path for Richard was the direct result of his frequent exposure to the Chamberlain family. Today, many remarkable and accomplished souls in this generation are experiencing that same phenomenon in their own lives. They reside in civilizations sprinkled throughout with the light-generating presence of true believers in Christ. However, these remarkable unbelievers are not aware of what is taking place. Many people believe they are responsible for their own success. Yet, it is the Spirit of God working through believers that becomes the glue that holds civilizations together. When civilizations are solid, a stable base is established for these remarkable but spiritually dead people to succeed. This dynamic is what has enabled many to turn their imaginative dreams into reality in the communications revolution the world is experiencing at this moment. Ignorance of this building block of civilized society is leading America and other nations of the world into a very tumultuous time. It is going to get worse before it gets better. However, it will improve as God’s ministers gain the understanding needed to develop a personal relationship with God. Next, they must learn how to teach others the benefits of believing in God through His Son, Jesus Christ. Young ministers across our nation are starting to come together in unity of the faith to do just that.

     During the next four-year period, while Richard forced himself to tread extremely uncomfortable waters to win Henrietta’s hand, his fortunes in the South Texas business arena soared to an entirely new level. In just a short time, the company monopolized the steamboat business on the Rio Grande River. With this new level of business success, his standing in the area reached new heights. It was a level that few men of that era, cut from his mold, would ever experience. The respect he garnered on both sides of the Rio Grande also grew exponentially. Here is a brief explanation of why that happened. You see, every consequential “shaker and mover” in the area would have an occasion at some point to come in contact with or at least have heard of the young captain of the shiny new riverboat Grampus, and these were not just white Americans but influential Mexicans also. The border was a cauldron of mixed races, with passions well-suited to a man like Richard King. He was now in his prime. He would never be as fit, as smart, or as good-looking.

     Adversities from childhood to now had shaped Richard into this almost-perfect prototype of the man needed to survive the rugged business climate of the Rio Grande Valley. During this time, he continued to move up and down the river, which enabled him not only to meet a wide range of people but also to stay in touch with them. He came to know soldiers, Mexican revolutionaries, Mexican and American merchants, politicians, lawyers, and Texas Rangers, among others. He also developed a strong connection to a host of working-class people who hauled his freight, built his warehouses, and worked as deckhands and laborers. They did everything from loading and unloading his riverboats to keeping the woodpiles stacked high with the mesquite wood to fire the boilers of the Grampus and the Comanche. Almost everyone who took the time to get to know him found it easy to connect with him. Many were drawn to Richard’s raw honesty and hardworking attitude, as well as his hard drinking and occasional bare-knuckle displays of the pent-up emotions within his soul. He undoubtedly attracted a broad spectrum of acquaintances, from those down on their luck to up-and-coming leaders in the area. Almost everyone could easily come to respect and even admire a man like Richard King.

     Mifflin got married before Richard. He fell in love and married a twenty-six-year-old Mexican beauty and widow with five children from Mier, Mexico, on April 16, 1852. Mifflin was a believer, but the passions often expressed by the phrase “falling in love” affect believers and nonbelievers alike, and that’s all I have to say about that.

     In May of that same year, a state fair was held in Corpus Christi, located approximately 165 miles north of Brownsville. Richard had been invited by its promoter, Henry Kinney, to attend, so he went. Getting there, however, presented him with several problems he had never faced before. You see, State Highway 77 had not been built quite yet. There were some wagon trails, but Richard had done little exploring beyond the riverbanks of the Rio Grande. He had been too busy keeping that old boat, the Colonel Cross, afloat until now. However, the booming riverboat business with Stillman was now giving him more free time to enjoy life. Another reason Richard did not explore the region north of Brownsville was that it was a perilous place to be. The countryside itself was beautiful to look at. Grasslands stretched for miles toward the Gulf Coast, and clumps of mesquite trees dotted the flat landscape, but the place was devoid of settlers because it was as wild as anywhere in the entire American frontier. It was generally known as the “Wild Horse Desert,” but it wasn’t what one might picture a desert to be. It had springs that fed crystal-clear running streams. There were vast grasslands near the coast. Wild game abounded, as well as thousands of wild horses. It also had, and still has, some of the most beautiful sunrises and sunsets in the world. The sound of cooing doves and yelping coyotes could be heard in the evenings, along with the call of a whippoorwill.

     In 1852, although a person with a frontiersman’s skill set would have had little problem traveling across this landscape, it would have been a very foolish undertaking for a tenderfoot from back east like Richard King. The men who had the best skill sets for traveling this land and staying alive were undoubtedly the Texas Rangers. That could be one reason why Richard did what he did next. For all his bravado, Richard was not one to take needless chances with his well-being. So, he buddied up with a Texas Ranger Captain Gideon Lewis. Lewis made the trip to the state fair with him. More than likely, Richard had met Gideon sometime earlier, possibly hauling supplies upstream to the ranger outpost at Lake Tampaquas.

     Despite their vastly different skill sets, these two traveling companions had one thing in common. The pride of life was sinking its talons into both, as it does with all upwardly mobile young people who have no interest in building a relationship with God. At this point, it was gaining a much more deadly grasp on Gideon than Richard. Here is the reason for that. Richard’s pride and self-respect were built on the trappings of a successful steamboat business that provided a service to others. A very godly Chamberlain family also influenced him during his long courtship of Henrietta Chamberlain. Since his steamboat business served the needs of others, that mitigated the destructive effects caused by the “pride of life.”

     Gideon’s “pride of life,” on the other hand, was being fed by much more destructive forces. He was a recognized war hero, and killing others always plows up the soul of a soldier, no matter how justified the cause. War heroes are highly susceptible to the pride of life, even when they are sleeping in a gutter. Gideon also garnered automatic respect and power over others through the authority he carried as a captain of the Texas Rangers. He was also drawn to politics. Without God’s anointing, politics can be as destructive as war to the human soul. Gideon’s most deadly fault, however, which is a symptom of the pride of life gone wild, was his inability to control his passions. Those passions created in him an incessant desire for other men’s wives. This desire would eventually get him killed by a jealous husband.

    Nevertheless, at this stage, while traveling together to the fair, both men were in their prime, headstrong, and about the same age. That commonality made them perfect traveling companions and also gave them a chance to bond. Since Gideon had been a courier during the Mexican War and a ranger afterward, he no doubt knew not only how to survive but also how to enjoy himself—turning his journey through the “Wild Horse Desert” to the state fair into an escape from the everyday grind.

     I mention this trip to the state fair for a crucial reason. It was during this trip that Richard saw the land he would soon purchase. That purchase would become the nucleus of the world-famous King Ranch. It was located on one of the best pieces of ground along the 165-mile stretch between Brownsville and Corpus Christi, on a creek known as the Santa Gertrudis. It was a Spanish grant of 15,500 acres to the Mendiola family, which Richard purchased for $300. He received a warranty deed for it in July of 1853. The purchase price wasn’t a lot of money, but he still brought Gideon into the deal as a half-partner. He did that for reasons other than needing help financing the land. He partnered with Gideon because Gideon not only had experience buying and selling land in the area but also possessed other valuable skills and connections. For one, he was associated with the type of men who had the right skills to work the proposed cow camp and stay alive. You see, the “Wild Horse Desert” was uninhabited, and for good reason. Comanches and banditos roamed freely there. When they ran across others in their path, they simply took whatever they felt like taking and then killed the person to boot. It was a livelihood for these wretched creatures, but they got what was coming to them in the end, and the Texas Rangers dispensed most of that frontier justice. Did others get hurt in the process? Of course, they did, but the world is not a perfect place, my dear. Raiding parties like these had existed throughout the ages. They were not noble warriors. Nor were they individuals trying to protect their rights. They were predators, plain and simple, with no regard for other human beings. Ah, yes, and some of these predators were gangs of cutthroat “cowboys” from other parts of Texas. A handful of Texas Rangers were the only law. The “Wild Horse Desert” was a perilous place.

     However, violence does not stop God’s ordained legacies. In the case of Henrietta’s legacy, we must open our eyes to a bigger picture. That picture reveals God’s domino trail of blessings leading to the 1-18 Infantry in Vietnam in 1967. The first dominoes did not fall until immediately after Richard saw Henrietta for the first time at those docks. Shortly afterward, he was brought into the new riverboat business by his friend, Mifflin Kenedy. The fair in Corpus not only allowed Richard to find land for a ranch but also connected him with a knowledgeable partner, Gideon Lewis, who had tremendous knowledge and connections for running a cow camp. Thus, the ranch was born.

     The riverboat business generated the capital to do all that. Without the state fair in Corpus Christi in 1852, Richard may not have been motivated to buy land that he had not seen. Gideon’s expertise not only provided security for the cow camp but also imparted the knowledge necessary to secure their land purchases legally. Legal acquisitions during this period were not easy. To legally secure the ranch land, the landowners' signatures were required. Therein lay another problem. Many of these Mexican landowners had moved to Mexico after the war. Another issue was that ownership of the land grants was now split among multiple generations of heirs. The legal entanglements required considerable time, patience, and forethought to unravel. Gideon possessed some of the skills and connections needed to make all this happen. Once the hard part of acquiring legal ownership was done, the impossible part came next. That “impossible part” was to make a living on the land while staying alive. I say it was impossible because the dominoes needed to bridge this gap hadn't yet been created. You see, the agrarian model, which worked so well for large plantations back east, would never work here on the “Wild Horse Desert” for two reasons. Number one was the frequent droughts. There were vast grasslands, but they were unsuitable for farming due to the inconsistent water supply. There were many seasonal creeks and small spring-fed streams, but not enough year-round freshwater was available. The second reason was that there was no available workforce to raise cattle or for farm labor. Back east, this was provided by the institution of slavery.

     A century before, Mexican citizens had started ranching in the “Wild Horse Desert.” Those grand ranchos had large herds of tough Spanish cattle that roamed free, along with thousands of wild horses. Landowners employed hundreds of vaqueros to manage their livestock. However, when Texas won its freedom from Mexico in 1836, the last of those ranchos disappeared. Why? Because those gangs of “cowboys” from north of the Nueces River regularly raided the lawless “Wild Horse Desert.” Although Texas recognized landowner rights and the Spanish land grants issued by Mexico before the war, there was no one to enforce these laws after the war. Cattle rustlers regularly raided at will and drove cattle north for profit, killing anyone who stood in their way. The ranchos were soon deserted, and the area became very unsafe for anyone, Mexican or White. By the time Richard started buying land, the cattle that once roamed the “Wild Horse Desert” were gone, as were the ranchos and the settlers. When Richard traveled through this area in 1852, it was beautiful but devoid of permanent settlements.

     Amazingly, during his courtship of Henrietta, Richard had begun to overcome the numerous obstacles of ranch ownership. He was the first to establish a permanent cow camp on Santa Gertrudis Creek. For the reasons I have just mentioned, it was a miracle that Richard was able to establish permanent roots there. Richard’s greatest miracle, however, was winning Henrietta Chamberlain’s hand in marriage. He could not have accomplished this feat without her father's blessing. Henrietta was remarkably close to her family, especially to her dad. To win Hiram over, it’s a safe bet that Richard was forced to become a regular visitor at Hiram Chamberlain’s church in Brownsville. As I have said, it took four years, but his persistent efforts eventually paid off.

     Here are some reasons why Hiram finally gave his blessing to Richard. As with many people today, Richard was a good reflection of God’s light when he was exposed to it. Exposure to the Chamberlain family over those four years caused Richard to change for the better. As he reflected more and more of the light generated by the Chamberlains, he was able to experience an increasing measure of the earthly blessings God intended for him. These blessings made him an increasingly appealing suitor for Henrietta’s hand. You see, Hiram, like most Christians, still looked at others' outward appearance and attitudes. I am sure that Hiram was impressed by the financial growth of Richard’s business dealings. Seeing the blessings coming from that did nothing but help Hiram draw closer to Richard. Then came the excitement over the success of his cow camp on the Santa Gertrudis. I am sure this was discussed many times during Richard’s shared family dinners with the Chamberlain family. The man of God, Hiram Chamberlain, could not help but be impressed by Richard’s earthly progress. Yet there was something else that impressed this man of God even more. He was also impressed by the genuine love Richard possessed for his daughter. The sum of it all was very compelling, and it persuaded Hiram Chamberlain to accept Richard as a very suitable husband for Henrietta.

     Richard was a good reflector of light, but a reflection needs a source. That source came not only from Henrietta but also from missionary Hiram Chamberlain and his church. Regardless of Richard’s motive for attending church, and irrespective of whether he was a believer or not, his mental state improved during those four years as he sat in church listening to the word of God. Now, the word of God is powerful, and it has a supernatural effect on whoever hears it, especially if they listen to it regularly, and especially if the reading of it is reinforced by the actions of God’s people modeling this word before that unbeliever. When I read the historical accounts of Richard’s life during these four years, when he regularly listened to the word of God, I was amazed at the numerous good outcomes that not only affected him but also those around him. Richard’s forward-thinking during this time was excellent and far removed from his previous perspective. Here is an example. I believe it is one of the most outstanding displays of God’s reflective light at work through Richard throughout his life. At the beginning of 1854, just before he and Henrietta were married, Richard went to a small village in northern Mexico to buy cattle. After purchasing every cow in that village, its inhabitants were left with minimal means to feed their families. Two years of severe drought exacerbated the situation. Starvation for the town was just around the corner when, not batting an eye, Richard offered jobs to everyone willing to follow the herd back to the Santa Gertrudis Creek cow camp. Almost the entire village of over a hundred people took him up on his offer. These men, women, and children would become the nucleus and lifeblood of the King Ranch. They were to become known as King’s people (Los Kinenos). Many years later, President Ronald Reagan’s Secretary of Education, Lauro Cavazos, would author a book, A Kineno Remembers: Memoirs of Lauro A. Cavazos Jr., detailing how important growing up on the ranch had been for him and his future success in life. His childhood had been greatly influenced by the descendants of those people who had walked to the ranch from Mexico with Richard.

     Richard married Henrietta at the Brownsville church on December 10, 1854. They spent the first several months honeymooning at the cow camp on San Gertrudis Creek. Etta would later say that this was one of the most wonderful times of her entire life. I believe that statement to be tremendous evidence of the internal emotional courage that the Holy Spirit of God had instilled in this young woman’s soul because the “White Horse Desert” at that time was still one of the most dangerous places on earth.

     The next thirty years would provide ample proof for the principle, which I have briefly touched on here. It’s a principle that can be described this way: Henrietta’s born-again spirit was the generator of light, and Richard reflected that light. However, as it often happens with those who only reflect God's light, Richard’s ability to reflect it became tarnished over time by the circumstances of this world. At the same time, the light generated within Henrietta’s born-again spirit grew ever brighter. No, I am not saying that Richard became a bad person. Richard remained as good a person as anyone who has ever lived a life without Christ. I would have loved to have met him. Although I will meet Henrietta in a few years, I am afraid I will never meet Richard. Again, I hope I am wrong.

     There was a great civil war during the first half of the 1860s, which presented a significant financial opportunity for the King family as it allowed Richard to utilize his extensive network of business associates in South Texas and Mexico to provide a vital service to the Confederacy. He was able to export Confederate cotton overland through Mexico and onto foreign countries, thus skirting the Union blockades of Confederate ports on the mainland. However, as with all unbelievers, his choices in life seemed to grow more complicated and confused, causing increasing anguish for his soul. He barely escaped a Union raiding party at the ranch one night. In the darkness, the Union officer leading the raiding party shot and killed one of his dearest and most trusted ranch hands, Francisco Alvarado. He mistook the man for Richard. After the war, Richard became one of the first ranchers to drive cattle north to railheads, where they could be sold for better prices to Eastern beef buyers. However, the hardships plaguing his ranching business continued to mount over the years, and his health declined. There were numerous bandit raids and rustlers from across the border. There were droughts and diseased cattle. Each year, the open range was replaced by more and more barbed wire fencing, making it increasingly difficult to drive his cattle to railheads up north for transport to markets back east. The bandit raids never stopped during his lifetime. Yet, through all the strife and changes that the ranch underwent, Henrietta was Richard’s most constant source of stability. Though they had a house in Kingsville, Henrietta made the ranch her home. She was present at the ranch during at least twenty-six bandito raids, and she was also present when the Union raiding party showed up that fateful night, while Richard, forced by circumstances, ran for his life. He was forced to leave her and his entire family behind to fend for themselves. Later, well into the turn of the 20th century, many an old vaquero would recall “La Madama,” as they called Henrietta, bringing food and other supplies to their armed outposts as they occupied them to defend against bandito raids on the ranch.

     By the beginning of the 1880s, the relentless wear and tear on Richard’s soul had begun to take its toll. Richard was a well-worn and tarnished shadow of that vibrant young man who entered into the Chamberlains’ lives at twenty-five. All his life, he drew strength from the spiritual warmth of his wife, but I do not believe he ever understood its source. In her company, perhaps he found the only place of peace he would ever know. The cattle drives, which were a primary source of income for the ranch, became increasingly difficult to manage. Disease and drought continued to shrink ranch profits. Although he had constantly expanded his land holdings over the years, he had also steadily accumulated debt after the war ended. He drank heavily. On April 8, 1883, shortly after losing his youngest son, Robert Lee, to pneumonia, this magnificent, strong man’s soul was nearing the end of its strength.

     While away on business, history records that Richard King wrote the following words in a letter to his beloved wife, Etta: “I am tired of this business, as I at all times have made a mess of everything I have undertaken, and now I want to quit the Rancho business and will so do.” Shortly after writing this letter, Richard found a British syndicate to buy the ranch. Fortunately, for many who would come later, the sale fell through. Although no one can be certain, I believe if these buyers had purchased the ranch, the futures of many souls connected to the King Ranch would have been much bleaker. The story of the 1-18 Infantry in Vietnam would have ended much differently as well. Two years later, after the failed sale of the ranch, in 1885, a much too young Richard King died of stomach cancer at the age of sixty-one. He died in a room at the Menger Hotel in San Antonio, with all his family at his bedside. Just a few days before his death, he was able to write out his will. He left everything to his beloved wife, Etta Chamberlain King. What a magnificent and successful man he was in so many ways! Yet, he was such a pitiful loser in the eternal scheme of things. Again, I pray that my previous statement was incorrect.

     As I have said, while Richard was still alive, the ranch's debt had continually mounted. It equaled almost as much as the appraised value of the land itself. If Richard had sold the ranch before he died, or Henrietta had sold it after Richard’s death, life would have been much different for the many families who worked the land and their children after them. No doubt, it would not have become the stabilizing force in the Rio Grande Valley that it later did.

     God knows all. A young lawyer, Robert Justus Kleberg, had been retained by Richard King several years before his death. He soon made King Ranch business his full-time occupation. He also fell in love with Henrietta’s youngest daughter, Alice. Appointing the young Kleberg to manage the ranch business was one of the most fortuitous choices Richard could have made, other than passing the baton to his wife, Henrietta, as the sole heir of the ranch. At this time in history, this was not the usual way to do business. Usually, trustees would have been chosen to run things after Richard’s death, and they were in this case, too, but those trustees quickly acquiesced to Henrietta’s competent abilities to run things on her own.

     God did not shorten Richard’s appointed time to die out of spite. Richard died an early death, partly because of his heavy drinking but also because of the enormous stress that came from believing he had to strive to maintain control of every aspect of his life. At the same time, Richard turned his back on the strength to be gained by a personal relationship with his creator. Today, in America, we will see more and more of this type of thing happening as those incredibly talented people currently responsible for igniting the communications revolution face the challenges of growing older, while rejecting God’s help. It is the same old story being played out again and again in the lives of so many remarkable human beings who have had the opportunity to grow up in a country that allowed them the freedom to create what they have. Richard’s early death robbed him of the chance to be at his youngest daughter’s wedding. Today, many are in the process of being robbed of the opportunity to have a daughter in the first place. How sad, because children are the most essential ingredient of a personal legacy. Often, we are robbed of that opportunity in the name of a very self-centered, nebulous pursuit that many simply label “success.”

     Proverbs 22:1 says that we should value a good name more than great riches. After Richard died in 1885, lien holders were more than happy to accept Henrietta’s written assurance of her husband's good faith regarding the debt owed to them. This acceptance of Henrietta’s good name on the lien spoke volumes about the respect she had among Richard’s business associates. Also, the Kleberg marriage was a match made in heaven. That marriage blessed not only Robert and Alice Kleberg but also the many families of the ranch. In the coming years, the Klebergs became excellent facilitators of the ranch business under the watchful eye of its owner, the godly Henrietta King. The management values taken from the pages of God’s word and established behind the scenes by Henrietta would stabilize ranch life throughout some tough times in the first half of the twentieth century.

     In less than ten years after Richard’s death, the entire debt on the ranch was paid off. Corridors of ranch land were deeded over to railroads, allowing them to extend their railheads into the area. These railheads made the “hard business” of driving cattle to railheads up north a thing of the past. Water wells were drilled, tapping vast underground artesian rivers beneath the ranch. Kingsville itself was built on land that the King Ranch had already donated. Schools and churches were not only built on land donated by Henrietta, but she also provided the lumber for their construction. The vaqueros who worked on the ranch worked hard, as did Henrietta and the Kleberg family. Often, the owners could be found in the dirt, working side by side with their vaqueros. Each soul living on the ranch had a respected and essential part to play, and each soul was given as much responsibility as they were able or willing to handle without prejudice. Where much is given, much is required. Robert Kleberg Sr. not only worked alongside the ranch’s Kinenos, but, as a skilled attorney, he also handled the ranch’s politics and business connections outside the ranch, which only he could handle. During this period of Texas history, there were deep cultural divides between Hispanics and Whites, and women and men. Women would not win the right to vote until 1920. Still, Henrietta held the reins of power over every aspect of ranch life. She was guided in that endeavor by her heart, which had long since been dedicated to God as a servant in Christ. After paying off the debt, she could have sold the ranch and lived comfortably as a wealthy woman for the rest of her long life. However, she didn’t, and I thank God that she didn’t.

     In his book A Kineno Remembers: Memoirs of Lauro A. Cavazos Jr., former Secretary of Education Lauro Cavazos Jr. detailed how vital his father and King Ranch culture had been in shaping his success in life. His father, a third-generation Kineno, was hired by Henrietta herself when he was eighteen and was undoubtedly mentored by her until her death in 1925. Before that, Lauro Sr. was raised by a strict Catholic-turned-Presbyterian mother who was the driving force for the moral upbringing of all her children and grandchildren. Much of Lauro Sr.’s upright and driving personality was shaped by this force-of-nature mother. Later, when he turned eighteen and started working on the ranch, he was undoubtedly influenced by another strong and godly woman, Henrietta King. No doubt, the ranch's protective atmosphere played a significant role in the continued development of young Lauro Sr. Unlike other young Hispanics of his time, Lauro was not beaten down by the daily challenges they faced. The ranch provided food, shelter, and a sense of self-worth through the work it provided. “Ranch life” no doubt sheltered him from the effects of debilitating fear, which gripped so many other starving Hispanic youngsters growing up in the first half of the twentieth century in the Rio Grande Valley. In 1915, Lauro Sr. repelled one of the most extensive bandit raids in ranch history, making quite a name for himself with the locals as well as with his ranch family. Soon after that raid, he volunteered to serve in the military during World War I. He was promoted to sergeant and went on to become a decorated war hero.

     Though Lauro fought bandits on the ranch and Germans in France, there was another side to him. That side was just as fearless. After returning from the war, he let Robert Kleberg see the other side. Robert ran the day-to-day operations on the ranch, so Lauro went to him and told him he would not settle for being just another ranch hand for the rest of his life. It took guts for a young Mexican of his generation to confront Robert in this manner. In a very forthright way, he calmly announced to Bob Kleberg that he would be moving on further west for greener pastures if Bob could not find a way to give him more responsibility. Now, Bob was no fool. He knew Lauro well enough to know that he meant what he said and said what he meant. Lauro had worked the ranch for years. When he was given a task, Bob could turn his back and walk away, knowing that it would be done. The hardworking and innovative Lauro Cavazos was a gift from God, and Bob knew it. He was not about to let that gift slip through his fingers.

     Bob immediately started training Lauro for a foreman position. It took several years. However, in 1926, a year after Henrietta’s death, he promoted Lauro to foreman of the Santa Gertrudis Division of the King Ranch. Lauro held that position until he died in 1957. Working side by side with Bob Kleberg Jr., he played a pivotal role in developing the first and only American breed of cattle, the Santa Gertrudis. He was one of the best horsemen in the country and also helped the ranch breed some of the best quarter horse stock ever produced anywhere. He was also elected and served as a justice of the peace in his local community.

     The foundation, however, which allowed Lauro Sr. to become a much better version of himself, was laid through the enlightened spirit of others. It was Henrietta Chamberlain King and Lauro’s mother before her who provided that foundation. Yes, Lauro Sr. was an excellent reflector of their light, but the light itself was generated by them and not by him. Like Richard King, Lauro was a very soulish person, and soulish people can take advantage of the light to do good works, but they can never become the light. It is always God’s enlightened vessels that shine on people's souls, allowing them to become what they would never have become otherwise. Interestingly, the world often overlooks enlightened vessels, such as Henrietta King, but touts those soulish people who come afterward. During a particularly challenging and economically difficult time, Lauro was motivated to ensure that each of his children learned to speak English. He leveraged his good standing in the community to challenge school board authorities and secure enrollment for his children as the first Hispanics in an all-White school in Kingsville. He also ensured that each of his children attended college. In the pages of his book, Lauro’s son, Secretary of Education Lauro Cavazos Jr., makes it very clear how necessary his father’s guidance was. Americans today would do well to have had an earthly father of Lauro Cavazos’s caliber; yet, by all accounts, Lauro Sr. was not a source of divine light. He was only a reflection of that light. The light originated from the born-again spirit of Henrietta and his mother. As with Richard, I hope I am wrong about Lauro. Henrietta hired Lauro Sr., and he answered to her alone until she died in 1925.

     Yet, what does this recounting of Texas history concerning Richard King, Henrietta King, and their ties with the Cavazos family have to do with anything? What possible noteworthy influence could these people have had on an infantry battalion in 1967, years later, in Vietnam? Even if they did, many might say, “Who cares?” We lost that war, and since we lost, why shouldn’t we move on? Who needs another story about Vietnam made more convoluted by this little history of the King Ranch? That is precisely the way I thought for a long time. Who needs another story about the Vietnam War? Well, read on, pilgrim, read on!

     When a man showed up to take command of my downtrodden infantry battalion, on the surface, that man did not seem like the kind of man who could change anything. He was calm, calculating, and sometimes abrupt. He cussed, and he was downright earthy. He wouldn’t hesitate to gulp down a shot of whisky and maybe have a second gulp to chase the first. He displayed a temper, albeit without the underlying angry spirit that typically accompanies such displays. Yet, he was the right man in the right spot at the right time. You see, Lauro Cavazos Sr. had a second son, who also grew up on the ranch. His life, too, was shaped by that same ranch culture. Like the ranch’s founder, he was also named Richard, and it was Lauro Jr.’s little brother, thirty-eight-year-old Lieutenant Colonel Richard E. Cavazos, who took command of my 1-18 Infantry in March 1967.

     In December 1966, when I joined the 1st Infantry Division north of Saigon at Dĩ An, a dark cloud of hopeless despair hung over the entire division. My 1-18 Infantry was one of nine battalions in that division. Several months later, after Richard Cavazos took over command, however, that dark cloud hanging over other battalions started to dissipate from our battalion. Many of us were amazed at how quickly things improved. However, it’s safe to say that no one knew the root cause of that change. Time and time again, we would witness the chaotic cloud of debacles taking place elsewhere become a thing of the past in our unit. I knew nothing about legacies, and I certainly knew nothing about the legacy Henrietta Chamberlain King had left behind. However, everyone could see the embodiment of that legacy, as he now stood among us.