Land of the Free (35 page)

“What was his insubordinate
answer?”

“He described General
Wilkinson as pusillanimous and corrupt.”

“His name?”

“Winfield Scott,
sir.”

“Is Winfield Scott a man
that you trust?”

“I hold him in very high
regard and think that his military judgment is superior to most
officers.”

Madison nodded. “That
answers my question, I think.”

Yank hesitated. “If you need
more information, sir, I suggest that you send someone to interview
George Rogers Clark.”

“I was told that he had a
terrible stroke.”

“He did, sir. But he’s
mentally sound and can speak. Someone should ask him how the
Spanish knew of his plans to attack New Orleans in ‘93.”

Madison made a note, then
looked up at Yank. “William Harrison isn’t a regular army officer,
is he?”

“I think he may be, sir, but
if you were to ask me my opinion of Governor Harrison, I would have
no reluctance to tell you that he’s a competent officer and a
superlative politician.”

Madison looked at the clock.
“Please forgive me, Colonel. I have a cabinet meeting in five
minutes. Perhaps we could finish this conversation tonight at
Dolley’s usual Wednesday soiree. Please bring Mrs. Van Buskirk, of
course. She is one of Dolley’s favorites.”

The color rose in Yank’s
face. “My wife didn’t accompany me on this trip, Mr.
President.”

Madison saw the reaction.
“Nothing wrong, I pray?”

“We have five children now
and they’re a bit of a handful for my aunt and uncle,” Yank said
evasively.

Madison took several seconds
to answer, intent upon reading Yank’s face. “Is it five
now?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I should have known that.
Perhaps I did.”

“You have more on your mind
than my children, sir.”

“But nothing more
important.” Madison stood and gave Yank his hand. “I was going to
ask you to take another trip to New Orleans for me, but five
children. Well.” He smiled and released his grip on Yank’s right
hand. “The task I had in mind might require someone to be in New
Orleans for as long as a year. Although we’re hoping to have
Louisiana admitted to the union by May.” He shook his head. “A year
is too long for a father of five.”

“Exploring, sir?”

“What’s that?”

“Would the mission in New
Orleans be new exploration?”

“Oh, no. We’re finished with
all that exploration now that the territory’s open for settlement.
It would be regular duty in New Orleans. Why? What are you
thinking?”

“Could I take my family with
me, sir?”

“Well, there’s an idea. Yes,
I suppose you could.” He looked at the clock again. “I really must
go. But we’ll talk again tonight.”

“Yes. Sir.” Yank started for
the door.

“Colonel?”

“Sir?”

“What’s your youngest’s
name?” He raised his hand. “Wait, don’t tell me. Let me see. The
first was John, then Thomas, Anna, and William so it must be
Robert. Is it Robert?”

“Yes, sir. The baby is named
Robert after my uncle who was killed during the Revolutionary
War.”

Madison smiled. “Five fine
American children named after fine American soldiers.”

Yank bobbed his head, unsure
of a proper reply.

“I shall see you tonight
then?”

“Yes, sir. Thank you,
sir.”

February 7, 1812

Van Buskirk Point, New
Jersey

They were near the marsh
where a stork was stalking fish among last year’s cattails. Marina
stopped walking to look at him. “New Orleans?”

“I would like you and the
children to come with me,” Yank replied. “It could be a chance for
a new beginning.”

“Why do we need
one?”

“I cannot answer
that.”

“You cannot or will
not?”

“I don’t have the answer,”
he said sharply.

“See?” She stepped back onto
the path. “That’s what always happens.”

“Has it always
happened?”

“What does that
mean?”

“It was a serious question,
Marina.”

“Based upon what? What were
you thinking when you asked it?”

He sighed. “Very well, if
you insist. My thinking is that you’ve changed since being here.
Particularly after spending those months under the influence of
Dolley Madison and my grandmother.”

“If you think I was
unfaithful to you with Captain Percy, why don’t you just ask? It’s
been hanging over us like the Sword of Damocles.”

“I have never asked because
I know you’ll lie.”

“What you really mean is
that you think I had an affair and that I’d deny it if you asked
me.”

“Yes. That is precisely what
I mean.”

“So I suppose that means
you’ve not forgiven me for my imagined sin?”

“No, I’ve forgiven you for
that but I dislike the woman that you’ve become.”

“I never had an affair with
Alexander Percy.”

He threw up his hands in
disgust.

“Why don’t you believe me,”
she shouted, walking away from him.

Yank caught up. “Did my
grandmother tell you that my father climbed the trellis to visit my
mother during the war, Marina?”

Marina turned quickly to
look at him but just as quickly recovered her composure. “I think
she might have mentioned it.”

“Do you suppose she also
mentioned it to Captain Percy?”

She stopped again.
“What?”

“How did Captain Percy know
that there was a trellis on the back of my great-grandmother’s
house, Marina? And in fact more importantly, how did he know that
it could be climbed to reach your bedroom window?”

She gaped at him.

“He even mentioned that your
window was on the left of the trellis and my grandmother’s was on
the right which caused him some concern that he might be heard when
he climbed through your window.”

“He’s told people about
that?” she gasped.

“He’s very young, brash and
a bit of a braggart, Marina. You were a conquest and he needed to
crow about it. I needed to shut his mouth.”

“What if I told you that
nothing happened? That he climbed the trellis and we only
talked.”

“I wouldn’t believe you. If
all you wanted was to talk you could have met him in the parlor on
any day.”

“John…”

He held up his hand. “I
don’t want to hear how you were infatuated or overcome by emotion
or whatever it is that you’re thinking.”

She blinked back tears and
shook her head.

“That’s all behind us,” Yank
said quickly. “Now we might have an opportunity to begin again in
New Orleans.” He waited for her to reply and when she didn’t he
said, “Yes or no, Marina. Just say yes or no.”

She wiped at her eyes.
“Yes.”

April 30, 1812

New Orleans,
Louisiana

They were on the second
floor balcony of their old French style house, watching the parade
that was passing outside their courtyard’s gate.

“This is like having Mardi
Gras twice,” Yank said, smiling broadly.

“Well, as much as I hate New
Orleans I have to admit that there is no city in the world that can
match it for its party parades,” Marina replied.

Yank nodded.

She leaned on the rail,
watching the revelers outside their gate. “Did I ever tell you that
I once rode a horse bare-breasted in the Mardi Gras
parade?”

Yank shook his head. “Why
would you tell me that? Do you say things like that just to bait
me, Marina?”

She looked at him pointedly
for a moment then turned back to the parade. “Perhaps I will again.
Next year.” She waited for a reaction from him then continued when
he provided none. “My breasts would still please the crowds, even
after five children.”

“What does ‘admitted to the
Union’ mean, Father?” Jack asked from the doorway.

“It means that Louisiana is
now a state in the Union of the United States of America,” Yank
answered. “The parade is part of the celebration.”

“You’re supposed to be
watching the children,” Marina barked loudly. “Get back
downstairs.” She pointed to the door.

“Yes, ma’am.” Dejectedly,
Jack turned and went back into the house.

Yank waited until Jack was
out of earshot. “You’re too rough on that boy.”

“He’s always
lurking.”

“He’s a child that wants
attention from his parents. Especially from his mother.”

She leaned on the rail. “I’m
sick of being a mother.”

“And of being a
wife.”

“Yes. And of being
unnoticed, unappreciated and unimportant.”

“You’re noticed and import
to this family. But to be appreciated you’ll have to make an
effort.”

“That wasn’t what I
meant.”

“What did you
mean?”

“I have no life of my own
anymore,” she said stridently. “You and your children are using me
up.”

He wrinkled his brow.
“That’s ridiculous, Marina. Would you really like to go back to the
life you had before?”

“At least I was admired
then.”

“Admired?”

“Yes. Admired.”

“Well if that’s the kind of
admiration you want,” Yank gestured toward the parade, “why wait
until next Easter? Join the parade now. Bare your admirable breasts
to the unwashed masses.”

“I might.”

“Please do.”

“And I might not come
back.”

“No one here would miss you,
Marina. You’re beastly to our children and they’re afraid of
you.”

“And you, John?”

He shook his head. “I don’t
honestly care what you do.”

Marina walked into the
house, down the stairs and out through the courtyard to the
street.

May 3, 1812

New Orleans,
Louisiana

The Gray Lady Tavern fell
dead silent when Colonel Yank Van Buskirk, wearing a dress uniform
with a sword on his belt, stepped through the front
door.

“You ain’t welcome here,”
Joseph said from behind the bar.

Yank locked Joseph in an icy
stare and walked to the bar. “The amount of pain that I bring will
be inversely proportional to the amount of information I receive.”
He looked over the crowded tables. “In other words: tell me what I
want to know and no one will get hurt.” He looked back at Joseph
who was reaching for something under the bar. “You’re a gambler,
aren’t you? Well I’ll wager that I can draw my sword and hack your
hand off at the wrist before you can pull that trigger.”

Slowly Joseph put his hands
on the bar. “She said she was goin’ home to Mexico.”

Yank shrugged. “I don’t care
about that. I came to find out where she pawned my mother’s ring.
My daughter is the rightful owner.”

Joseph opened his cash
drawer, took out the ring and put it on the bar. “I give her a
hundred dollars for it.”

Yank picked up the ring,
took a gold coin from his pocket and put it where the ring had
been. “You gave her too much.” With a nod to the still silent
patrons, he walked out.

May 13, 1812

Saline Creek Settlement,
Indian Territory

Brigitte Saucier Chouteau
watched the passengers who were debarking from the keelboat. “Will
you look at that?”

Her husband, Jean Pierre
Chouteau, shaded his eyes. “At what?”

“Marina Van Buskirk from New
Orleans.” She pointed. “I wonder what she could be doing
here.”

“I am quite sure she will
tell you.” He turned back to his task of counting pelts.

Balancing on the planks to
avoid the mud, Brigitte made her way toward the crowded wooden
dock. As she drew nearer the river, Brigitte raised her hand to get
Marina’s attention.

Marina waved then waited
until Brigitte gained the dock before pressing her cheek against
Brigitte’s and kissing the air in French fashion. “I thought you
were in New Orleans and had not expected to see you
here.”

“We built a small house
above the trading post.” She pointed at a mansion on the hill. “Let
me get someone to fetch your baggage and we will go up.”

“I have none.”

“No baggage?”

“No.”

“What are you doing,
Marina?”

“I am going
home.”

“To New York?”

“To New Mexico.”

“What?”

“I intend to join a party on
the Osage Trace that is traveling to Santa Fe,” Marina
explained.