Stephen F. Austin finally blinked in a tense stand-off with Strap Buckner and signaled on June 10, 1831 that he would meet his stubborn adversary more than halfway. 

No one was more determined to take Texas away from Spain than the pugnacious son of a Virginia judge, who did not know the meaning of the word “quit.” Aylett C. “Strap” Buckner survived not one, not two but three doomed attempts to liberate the province.

In 1812 he joined the Republican Army of the North, which seized control of San Antonio before being annihilated by a Spanish counterattack. Three years later, he returned with dreamer Francisco Mina, whose crusade was quickly crushed. Then in 1819, as a follower of Dr. James Long, he came back for more and again was lucky to get out alive.

Deciding it was easier to live in Texas than to free it, Buckner set up housekeeping in present-day Fayette County, where according to some sources he was the first white resident on the Colorado River. A number of tribes took turns trying to drive out the trespasser, who fought like a demon to keep his red hair and humble cabin.

The constant combat made Strap Buckner a legend among the Indians of Central Texas years before late arriving immigrants had even heard his name. Calling their formidable foe the “Red Son of Blue Thunder,” respectful warriors invented stories of his exploits which white listeners retold as popular tall tales.

A giant by the standards of today, much less those of his own shorter era, Buckner supposedly stood six foot six and tipped the scales at 260 pounds. His idea of a good time was to knock a man to the ground just to see if he could take his powerful punch. He usually hunted barehanded but on those rare occasions he felt the need of an equalizer, his weapon of choice was the tomahawk.

When a wild black bull terrorized the countryside, Buckner confronted the enormous beast. He stood his ground and calmly punched the ferocious animal right between the eyes. The dazed bull dropped to its knees, groggily surveyed the situation and disappeared into the brush never to be seen again.

While most Anglo-American newcomers gave Buckner a wide berth, Stephen F. Austin expected him to abide by the rules of the growing colony like everyone else. As far as the young empressario was concerned, lone wolves no matter how rough and tough their reputation did not rate special treatment. 

From the beginning, the distribution of land was the biggest headache for the future Father of Texas. A settler denied his favorite site invariably accused Austin of holding onto the land for himself or a friend. Also, old-timers who had participated in early expeditions against the Spaniards insisted they were entitled to first pick.

As a veteran of three dangerous filibusters, Buckner fervently believed the best acreage was rightfully his. Austin, however, not only rejected such logic out of hand but refused to give him clear title to the Colorado River homestead where he had lived for three years.

For hot-tempered Buckner, those were fighting words. He publicly dared the empressario to evict him and threatened to organize a mass meeting to strip Austin of all authority.

The normally mild-mannered Austin came unglued and rashly ordered the arrest of Buckner on a charge of sedition. To his chagrin, no one could be found to take the troublemaker into custody. At the insistence of influential colonists, Austin backed down and dismissed the incident as a mutual misunderstanding. Placated by this half-hearted apology and a bargain on a thousand-acre parcel, Buckner warmed to Austin and soon ranked among his staunchest supporters. 

Meanwhile, trouble was brewing in provincial Texas. To the relief of long suffering settlers at Anahuac, an American mercenary took charge of the local Mexican garrison in 1832. But the colonists’ hope of getting a fair shake at last vanished, when the new commandant proved to be more dictatorial than his unbearable predecessors.

By summer the Texans were fed up with the petty tyrant, and pent-up resentment erupted into violent resistance. Misinterpreting the isolated events at Anahuac as the start of an uprising against Mexican rule, Buckner led a poorly planned attack on a second garrison at Velasco.

On June 25, 1832, he marched into battle carrying a wooden shield, which a stray bullet suddenly shattered. A large splinter pierced his brain killing him instantly.

Until his fatal detour at Velasco, Strap Buckner was well on his way to becoming a full-fledged folk hero. But death in the insignificant skirmish, the first between rebellious colonists and the Mexican military, robbed him of the Alamo immortality bestowed on the likes of Davy Crockett, Jim Bowie and William B. Travis.

Bartee welcomes your comments and questions at barteehaile@gmail.com or P.O. Box 152, Friendswood, TX 77549 and invites you to visit his web site at barteehaile.com.