Land of the Free (31 page)

Yank looked at Marina.
“Should I invite him for dinner?”

Marina looked at the cadet.
“Is he alone, Major?”

The boy’s eyes flicked to
her and immediately back to front. He blushed. “Yes, Ma’am. He said
that he was on his way to Washington to meet with President
Madison.”

She looked back at her
husband “Give me an hour. Nancy has the day off and the house is a
wreck.”

“Tell the governor that I’ll
be with him shortly,” Yank said to the young man.

“Yes, sir.” He saluted, then
when Yank nodded in return, he dropped his salute, did a smart
about face, and marched away.

“That kid’s going to be a
general some day,” Yank said to Marina.

“You say that about all the
students,” she replied.

“Not all.”

“Most.”

“Well most will indeed be
generals. That’s what we’re building here. Generals.”

“Go see the governor and
give me an hour before you bring him to the house.”

“Can I come with you,
Father?” Jack asked.

“I need you to help me,”
Marina said before Yank could agree.

“Oh Mother,” Jack whined.
“It’s Independence Day.”

“Your independence is some
years in the distance,” she said. “Take Robert and I will take
William.” She gathered the children from Yank’s arms. “Now please,
John. Remember that I need an hour.”

“Yes,” Yank agreed. “I will
bring him to the front veranda and there we shall stay until you
decide to appear and invite him in.”

“That won’t do. I have no
one to serve him any refreshments.”

“It will have to do.” Yank
rubbed baby drool off his uniform and then started down the hill
toward the Hudson.

~

William Henry Harrison
looked out across the river. “You seem to have settled in here,
Yank. Everyone speaks very highly of you.”

Yank smiled. “It’s not as
bad as I feared, Bill.”

They were seated on
comfortable outdoor chairs in front of the old house above the
Hudson that served as the Van Buskirks’ quarters.

“That sounds less than
enthusiastic,” Harrison observed.

“As I told you on the day
you handed me my orders, I’m a soldier, not a teacher.”

“Yes. I remember you saying
that and I wondered if you still felt that way.”

“I do.”

“What would you say to a
field command and brevet star?”

Yank looked at him with keen
attention. “What brigade?”

“It’s not a formal brigade.
Two hundred fifty regulars, about a hundred Kentucky militiamen,
maybe five hundred from the Indiana Territorial Militia and
whatever else I can cobble together quickly. I take it that you’re
interested?”

“Can you give me some more
details please?”

“Let me see.” He watched a
ship as it began negotiating the chains. “Do you know John Gibson,
our secretary of the Indiana Territory?”

“Yes, of course. He’s a fine
man.”

“He is indeed. But he’s
seventy-one years old.”

Yank nodded. “I read that he
saved Vincennes from a massacre that had been planned by Tecumseh
last year.”

“That’s accurate. But as I
said, he’s seventy-one years old. I really need a younger man with
military training, contacts with the Indians and the kind of
diplomatic skills necessary to work with John without hurting his
pride. You’re the only man I can think of with those
qualifications.”

“So I wouldn’t actually be
in command.”

“You would be in command
reporting directly to the governor. That’s me when I’m there and
John Gibson when I’m not.”

Yank tipped his head.
“Reporting to a governor that holds a military commission is second
in command.”

“That’s a narrow
view.”

“How soon do you need a
decision?”

“I’m not sure. Let me fill
you in. When Tecumseh turned up at Grouseland last year with four
hundred warriors in war paint, he insisted that the Fort Wayne
treaty was illegitimate and demanded that I nullify it. When I
rejected his demands, he warned me that any Americans that
attempted to settle in any land that was sold under the treaty
would be attacked and that he would seek an alliance with the
British. After a brief pissing contest of who had the most
firepower, he left. Since then he’s been receivin’ weapons and
materials from Britain regularly.”

Yank laughed. “So the myth
of British support to the Indians now becomes reality.”

Harrison’s face showed his
disapproval. “I don’t see this as a laughing matter.”

“Well I do,” Yank replied
flatly. “You’ve been trying to pick a fight with Britain on behalf
of the United States for years.”

“That’s untrue.”

“Bah. You’ve even gone so
far as filing false reports to do it.”

Harrison made an obvious
effort to control his temper. “Everybody knows that war with
England’s inevitable, except you, Yank.”

“President Jefferson didn’t
think so.”

“Jefferson.” Harrison
shook his head. “He had a perfect opportunity to declare war in ‘07
when the
Leopard
fired on the
Chesapeake
in Norfolk. If he’d just made the declaration,
the Congress and popular opinion would have supported him fully.
But what does he do? He closes our territorial waters to British
warships, demands payment for damages, and formally requests that
British ships stop searching America vessels for deserters.
Requests. Like a lackey.”

“I didn’t agree with that
either,” Yank said. “But I don’t think President Madison is going
to declare war on Great Britain based upon your reports of Tecumseh
being supported by the British.”

“He would if you confirmed
them.”

“Me? What do I know other
than what you’re telling me?”

“I need you, Yank. Help me
now and I’ll make you a general and get you out of
here.”

Yank looked at the river for
several seconds. “I think I’ll have to decline your offer,
Governor.”

Harrison took out a cigar
and made a production of lighting it to give himself time to think.
“All right, Yank,” he said at last. “Why don’t you come down to
Washington with me?”

“For what
purpose?”

“To see the
President.”

Yank chuckled. “I may be
just a soldier, Bill, but I understand politics enough to know that
you got me sent here because I wouldn’t support your claim that the
British were using Indians to attack our interests.”

Harrison took a long time to
respond. “I made a mistake in that. Not that it harmed you. In
fact, I did you a favor. But I went over Madison’s head to do it
when he was Secretary of State. Now he’s the president and I
desperately need to mend that fence. I’m asking you as a friend and
a patriot.” When Yank failed to respond, he continued. “I swear to
you on all that’s holy: the British are supplying Tecumseh’s
legions with arms, ammunition and supplies for an all-out war. If
our government doesn’t wake up soon it could be the end of
us.”

Yank raised an eyebrow. “You
have an annoying habit of overstating things, Bill.”

“Well, it certainly will be
the end of westward expansion.” Harrison waited another moment.
“Please, Yank. Just come with me to talk to Madison. What harm can
that do?”

Yank took a deep breath and
let it out slowly. “Very well, Bill. But if I go back to the
territory it will be as a representative of the United States, not
as a representative of the Territorial Governor.”

“Agreed.”

July 7, 1811

Washington, District of
Columbia

President James Madison
fixed Governor Harrison in his steady gaze. “You, sir, are like the
boy who cried wolf. Here you are again saying that the Indians in
the Northwest are being supplied by the British.”

“I am, sir,” Harrison
replied.

“But this time it’s the
truth?” He shook his head,

“It has always been the
truth, sir,” Harrison countered. “But never to the extent that
we’re seeing now.”

“I would need more than your
word to take to the British government, sir. Much more.”

“I have a possible solution
to that problem, Mr. President. Do you remember Colonel John Van
Buskirk?”

“Yes, of course. Fine young
man. Fine family. Fine soldier. Fine American. Where is he now?
West Point? Yes, I think that was where you had him
sent.”

“I won’t apologize for that,
Mr. President, but I freely admit that it was a
mistake.”

“Do you indeed.” Madison
sniffed.

Harrison pointed over his
shoulder with his thumb. “He’s outside right now.”

“Who is? Colonel Van
Buskirk?”

“Yes, sir. I stopped at West
Point and asked him to accompany me here.”

Madison got up, walked
around his desk and opened the office door. “Colonel Van
Buskirk?”

“Here, sir.” Yank walked
toward him.

“Come in a moment
please.”

Yank followed him in and
closed the door.

Madison gave Yank his hand.
“I am delighted to see you again.”

“As am I to see you, Mr.
President.”

“Take a chair, please,”
Madison said, as he sat back down behind his desk. “I presume that
you know what Governor Harrison and I have been
discussing?”

“Yes, sir.” Yank sat down
next to Harrison.

“Would you advise me to
accept the Governor’s assessment that the British are supplying
weapons and encouragement to the Shawnee and their
allies?”

“Of course I would, Mr.
President,” Yank said. “Just as soon as I could verify the facts
for you.”

A hint of a smile crossed
Madison’s face. “How long will it take you to move your family here
and find a suitable replacement to fill your position at West
Point?”

“Would a month be too
long?”

Madison shook his head but
Harrison looked pained.

“I will make all possible
speed,” Yank said, “but you can count on me being in Vincennes no
later than the seventh of August.”

August 7, 1811

Vincennes, Indiana
Territory

Governor Harrison looked up
from a letter and said, “Right on time.” He immediately went back
to reading.

Yank waited a moment to see
if Harrison would say more or offer his hand but the governor
continued to read. “Nice to see you again, Governor.” He turned and
started for the door.

“Hold on,” Harrison said.
“I’m not done with you.”

“I’m done with you.” Yank
walked out and closed the door. He was in the street when Harrison
caught him.

“You can’t walk out on me
like that,” Harrison said, loudly enough to turn heads.

“The hell I can’t,” Yank
answered as he continued to walk. “As you and I agreed at West
Point, I’m here representing the President of the United States of
America, Bill.”

“That doesn’t alter the fact
that I am the territorial governor.”

“I don’t report to you
except as a matter of courtesy and I don’t feel very courteous at
the moment.”

“Now you wait just a
minute,” Harrison caught Yank’s sleeve.

Yank stopped and looked at
the offending hand until Harrison let go. “The next time you put a
hand on me, sir, consider it a dropped gauntlet.”

“Who the hell do you think
you are, Andrew Jackson?” Harrison spluttered.

“No. I’m a much better shot
and immeasurably better with a sword.” Yank continued down the
street.

Harrison looked around then
hurried to catch up. “You’re drawing a lot of
attention.”

“I think it must be you. No
one here knows me.”

“What do you want? An
apology?”

“That would be a good
start.”

“It was you that called me a
liar.”

“It was you that
lied.”

“I might have exaggerated a
little, but I never lied.”

“What about the Erie raiding
party that you claimed shot two trappers with British
muskets?”

“I don’t remember any
incident like that.”

“That’s the trouble with
lies, they require a good memory.”

Harrison glared at
him.

“Let me help you with the
true story then, Governor,” Yank said. “After Black Hoof mentioned
it to me, I checked. It was four very young Erie boys who thought
it would be funny to steal the horses of some drunken trappers. One
of the trappers woke up, saw them and fired his musket. His shot
woke the others and they all fired off their muskets. Two of them
shot each other.”

“Like I said, an
exaggeration.”