Antebellum BK 1 (13 page)

The political conversation continued until everyone had gone to bed except Anna and Johnny.

“
You seem to be very interested in politics,” she observed.

He nodded. “What do you think my father would say if I decided not to go to West Point like everyone else?”

Anna considered the question for some time. “I don’t think he’d offer any serious opposition. My father wanted his boys to serve, but my brothers only served because he wanted them to.” She thought a moment, then reconsidered. “Except Jack. Jack was born to be a soldier.”

“
Quincy and Pea will be upset if I don’t go.”

She shrugged. “You have to live your life for yourself, not for your family. What would you like to do?”

“
Write. Like you. For a newspaper. But I don’t want to disappoint my family either.”

“
How old are you, Johnny?”

“
Thirteen. Almost.”

“
That gives me some time to think about it.”

He grinned. “You’ll help me?”

“
Yes. Of course. It’s always been my opinion that we need more thinkers in this family and fewer soldiers.”

January 3, 1850

West Point, New York

C
adet Paul Van Buskirk’s roommate, James E. B. Stuart, looked up from his book as Paul came in and closed the door. “How was Christmas at home, Pea?”

“
It was surprisingly enjoyable.” Paul put his small valise on the floor, opened it and began unpacking. “Anything happen here while I was gone?”

“
Not much. How did you and Pug get along?”

“
Fine.”

“
I’ll bet you didn’t call him Quincy.” Stuart chuckled.

“
That’s his name.”

“
I know that but…”

“
His mother was there, so he was on his best behavior.”

“
His mother was there? Gadzooks.” Stuart pulled a face. “That must have been grim.”

“
Grim? No. Why would you say that?”

“
His mother’s an abolitionist, isn’t she?”

“
Yes, but…” He shook his head. “Maybe we shouldn’t discuss that, Beauty.”

Stuart had received the West Point nickname,
Beauty
, because an upperclassman had remarked that Stuart’s small, receding chin “disfigured his otherwise fine countenance”. At home in Virginia, James Ewell Brown Stuart’s nickname was Jeb, derived from his first three initials. “The way things are going we’ll have to discuss the issues between North and South soon,” Stuart observed. “A soldier can’t ride the fence when the shooting starts.”

“
My Aunt Anna says that there’s a compromise working its way through the legislature that should calm some of this talk of civil war.”

“
Only Yankees talk of civil war. In the South, we talk of peaceful secession.” He grinned. “By force, only if necessary.”

“
Texas is proud to be a part of the United States and the South. In your part of the South, you talk as if the United States was a social club that anyone could join or resign from at will.”

“
Why shouldn’t it be exactly that? Where is it written that a State cannot withdraw from the Union?”

“
In common sense.”

“
You’ll have to do better than that, Pea. And I think you may misunderstand your home state of Texas because of your grandfather’s close friendship with Senator Sam Houston. Houston’s aligned himself with your idea of an inviolate union.”

“
I’d really rather not discuss it, Beauty. There’s nothing that you or I can do about it, anyway.”

“
Any news from California?” Stuart asked to change the subject.

Paul sat down at his desk. “Apparently the army has its hands full with all the gold seekers. My uncle says that northern California is lawless; ruled by vigilantes and thugs.”

“
Is your grandmother still there?”

“
Yes. And my Uncle William is too, apparently.”

“
Lucky Billy Van? How do you know?”

“
Have you heard of a Chicago detective agency run by a man named Allan Pinkerton?”

“
Is that the same as the Pinkertons?”

“
Yes. My aunt Anna paid them five thousand dollars to find Uncle William.”

“
Why didn’t the Pinkertons arrest him? The territorial rewards must be huge by now.”

“
I don’t know. I think that my grandmother may have told Aunt Anna to call off the Pinkertons. Whatever happened is discussed in whispers so that Pug doesn’t hear. I just caught bits and pieces.”

“
You can’t really blame your grandmother for trying to protect her son.”

“
No, but I can’t blame Aunt Anna for wanting him arrested for murdering her husband either. Charlie Lagrange was a fine man. Pug doted on him. Of course he’d never admit that.”

“
So Pug doesn’t know that your grandmother’s protecting your Uncle William?”

“
I don’t even know it for certain, Beauty. But I don’t think it really matters if she is or isn’t. My Uncle Josiah’s still trying to find Uncle William and my grandmother can’t call him off.”

“
Texas Rangers don’t have jurisdiction in California.”

“
Uncle Josiah’s a U.S. Marshal now.”

“
He’s not really your uncle, is he?”

“
No. But when we were children, we weren’t permitted to call adults by their first names so all the close family friends were aunt and uncle. The Aunt Nancy that I talk about all the time is really just a family friend.”

Stuart, who had lost interest in the subject of Paul’s family, nodded. “Did you find out what happened to your grandfather’s horses?”

“
What do you mean?”

“
The warhorses your grandfather had with him in Mexico.”

“
Oh. Yeah. They shipped Beelzebub back to my great-great grandfather Livingston’s stables in Elizabeth. I’m not sure about the other two horses. I think one was killed in battle.”

“
I sure would love to ride Beelzebub some time.”

Paul chuckled. “He’d eat you alive.”

“
There’s no horse I can’t ride.”

“
Famous last words. Beelzebub only tolerates a few humans and they’re all Van Buskirks or Livingstons.”

“
Well anyway, I’m glad that your uncles sent him home. It’d be a shame for a bloodline that old and famous to die out.”

“
Beelzebub’s sired several colts already.”

“
Any of them have his nature?”

“
I don’t really know. We can go over to Elizabeth in the spring, and if you want one of his colts, I’ll give it to you.”

“
Really?”

“
Yes. Other than my grandfather, you’re the best horseman I’ve ever seen. You should have a warhorse worthy of your skill.”

“
Heavy horse is a tactic of the past. Light cavalry is the future.”

“
So you don’t want one of Beelzebub’s colts?”

“
I didn’t say that.”

“
You’re right, of course. Big, powerful horses like Beelzebub aren’t of much use in the modern American cavalry.”

“
Do you think they’ll let us join the cavalry after we graduate?”

“
I’m hoping to be an engineer, but you’re a natural for the cavalry, Beauty. The army would be foolish to place you anywhere else.”

Stuart studied his friend’s face for several seconds. “As a Texan, and knowing it would be the ruination of the Southern economy, would you really go to war to free the slaves, Pea?”

“
No.” Paul shook his head. “But, as you said a minute ago, I agree with Sam Houston and I might go to war to preserve the Union.”

May 8,
1850

Eureka, California

W
ielding her cane menacingly, Marina Van Buskirk forced her way from the steamboat through the crowded seaside docks, and then waded in ankle-deep mud toward the cluster of shacks and tents. “Where’s the hospital?” she asked a man who was leading an overburdened mule.

The man stopped, looked her over, spit tobacco juice, and urged the mule forward again.

Marina held up a gold coin. “Hospital?”

He stopped again. “There ain’t none.” He grabbed for the coin.

Marina stepped back beyond his reach and closed the coin in her fist. “There was a gunfight here about a week ago between Lucky Billy Van and a U.S. Marshal. Did you hear about it?” She showed him the coin again.

“
Hear about it? I seen it with my own two eyes. The marshal got the drop on the outlaw but the polecat had him a little hide-out pistol up his sleeve.” He cackled. “Shot the marshal right in his family jewels.” He mimicked a pistol with his thumb and index finger. “Pow.” He dropped the mule’s reins and cupped his groin with both hands. “Guess that marshal’s gonna be singin’ in the ladies choir from now on. You should of seen it. It was like…”

“
Is the marshal still alive?” Marina interrupted.

“
Last I heard.” The man was obviously disappointed that he couldn’t continue his oft-told tale.

“
Where might he be?”

“
The marshal? If he’s still alive, the roomin’ house, most likely.”

“
Where’s that?”

He pointed toward a building that looked like a warehouse.

Marina dropped the coin in the mud and started to turn away.

“
You miserable old hag.” The man caught Marina by the arm. “Pick that up.”

Marina whacked him on the ear with her cane and stepped on the coin, burying it in the mud. “Old hag?” She whacked him on the other ear, and then slogged toward the building, ignoring the man’s howls.

~

“
Anybody ever tell you that it ain’t polite to walk into a man’s bedroom without knockin’ first?” Josiah Whipple lowered his pistol, carefully released the hammer, and sat back against the bed’s pillows with a grimace.

“
It stinks in here.” Marina walked to the window and opened it.

“
That stink is me,” Whipple said. “Takin’ a bath with a bullet in my belly’s proved to be a tad difficult.”

She turned toward him and leaned against the window sill. “I heard that William shot you in your privates, not in the belly.”

“
I crouched down a bit when he pulled the trigger and he was a couple o’ inches too high.”

“
How is it that you’re still alive?”

“
The bullet went through my pistol belt. It ain’t that deep but it’s too deep to pull out with my fingers.”

“
Why haven’t you let a doctor remove it?”

“
There ain’t no doctors here, Marina. The closest they got to one is a barber. And he’s the filthiest man I ever did see.”

“
Then I guess I better do it.” She took a small leather bag off her shoulder and walked toward the bed.

“
I ain’t exposin’ my privates to you, Marina.”

She shrugged. “You have a fever. The bullet probably took a chunk of your belt and some cloth with it. Now the wound’s infected. If I operate, remove the bullet and clean out the wound, you might recover. If I don’t, you’ll be dead in another day or two. Is your modesty worth dying for?”

He closed his eyes. “You gonna put maggots on me?”

“
Let’s hope that you don’t need them. I didn’t bring any and growing them is a slow and disgusting job.” She put the bag down beside him. “There’s a pint of laudanum in there. Take a big swig. I need to get some clean water.” She started toward the door.

He opened the bag and found the bottle. “What are you doin’ here, anyway?”

She stopped. “Back in Matamoras, I heard a rumor that you were hung like a stud horse, Josiah. I thought this might be an opportunity to peek.”

He chuckled. “Thanks, Marina.” He took a swallow from the bottle.