Home of the Brave (15 page)

Yank scowled at him. “Unless
you want to follow Rachel into the hereafter, don’t take that tone
or posture with me, sir,” Yank warned. “I can shoot you through the
eye at thirty paces and with a sword you’ll be dead before your
first thrust.”

Jackson opened and closed
his mouth then turned and walked to the window.

Yank started for the door.
“Good day, Mr. President.”

“Don’t go, Yank.” Jackson
said, still looking out the window.

“There’s nothing left to
say, sir.”

“There is a great deal to
say,” Jackson said with a sigh while turning to face Yank. “You’re
right.” He shook his head. “I’ve permitted this thing with Peggy to
over-shadow my new presidency and my entire cabinet has turned
against me. I don’t know what to do but I’ve gone much too far to
back down now.”

“Fire the whole pack of them
and start over,” Yank suggested.

“Appointing a new cabinet
won’t stop these spurious rumors about Peggy.”

“I’m not convinced that
they’re spurious.” Yank raised his hand before Jackson could
explode. “I could be wrong, but you could be too. Why not use your
power as President to investigate fully before you make a fool of
yourself by defending a woman who doesn’t deserve it?”

Jackson walked to his desk.
“Sit back down a moment please, General.”

Yank hesitated and then took
the chair he’d just vacated.

“Have you heard of a war
chief named Black Hawk?”

Yank was confused by the
abrupt change of the topic and merely shrugged in reply.

“He’s the leader of a
large band of Sauk, Fox, and Kickapoo called the
British Band
and he’s
said to have support from, not only the British, but the Ho-Chunk
and Potawatomi tribes and perhaps even the Sioux. He keeps
returning to Saukenuk in violation of several treaties that you and
General Harrison negotiated when Harrison was governor of
Indiana.”

“The last I heard was that
Ed Gains moved up from St. Louis and, together with Henry
Atkinson’s militia, pushed Black Hawk back across the
Mississippi.”

“
That was last year. I
just today received a message from Governor Reynolds of Illinois,
dated three weeks ago, that says Black Hawk is back in Illinois
with a thousand warriors of the Sauk, Fox and Kickapoo Nations and
some Ho-Chunk prophet called White Cloud.” He looked at Yank
expecting a reaction but got none. “Ho-Chunk is what we’re now
calling the Winnebago nation. This White Cloud is saying that they
are prepared to join Black Hawk in a war against the United
States.”

“So what does Reynolds want
from you? Federal troops?”

“Yes.”

“Henry Atkinson is as
competent as any regular army general and the Illinois militia is
about as good as the best.”

“General Atkinson signed the
request too.” Jackson hesitated. “I was wondering if you would go
up there and check the situation for me.”

Yank shook his head. “I’ve
had more than enough of the Northwest Territory.”

“The trip is nowhere near as
hard now. There are steamboats in most of the waterways including
the Great Lakes.”

“General – I mean – Mr.
President…”

“I need you, Yank. I really
need you. I’m a fish out of water here. I don’t have anyone I can
trust. Please. Your country needs you.”

Yank closed his eyes for a
moment then sighed and finally nodded. “But I can’t leave until
after the twentieth of next month.”

“Fine. In the meantime, you
can move Marina down here. She must be bored in New
Jersey.”

May 10, 1829

San Felipe, Coahuila,
Mexican Province of Tejas

In addition to his duties
as empresario, Stephen Fuller Austin was the
alcalde
, or mayor, of San Felipe and
as such, he had offices in a building called the
cabildo
where the local
government, known as the
ayuntamiento
, met. “This is
incorrect, Mr. Van Buskirk.” A small man with dark eyes and a head
that seemed disproportionately large, Austin spoke rapidly and
exuded energy that belied his stature. “The newer tracts are one
square mile or six hundred and forty acres.”

“But, Mr. Austin,” Thomas
said in a reasoning tone. “I have a receipt here for five hundred
and fifty-three dollars and fifty cents. That would compute to four
thousand, four-hundred and twenty-eight acres at twelve and a half
cents per acre.”

“I understand that, sir,”
Austin said, walking to a large map, “but the fact remains that
according to the official survey these six hundred and forty acres
right here are yours.” He tapped the map.

“That’s all well and good,
sir, but the fact remains, as you can plainly see, I paid for four
thousand, four-hundred and twenty-eight acres.”

“As you can plainly see,”
Austin countered, “each of these parcels has a name on it.
Therefore the only way I could adjust your parcel to four thousand,
four-hundred and twenty-eight acres would be to take land away from
several others.”

Thomas walked closer to
the map. “What about this area that’s labeled
Nashville
and marked through? There
are no names here.”

“There are some legal
difficulties with that grant. It was purchased by a company for
profit and will be forfeit. An associate of mine, Samuel May
Williams, and I have asked the State of Coahuila for a permit to
settle eight hundred families on that grant and on this land here
to the north and west.”

“Will it be
approved?”

“I cannot see why not. But
it will take time and the grant has yet to be surveyed.”

“When will it be
surveyed?”

Austin answered him with a
helpless shrug. “After the state has agreed and if and when I can
find a competent surveyor to put to the task.”

“Why would it be difficult
to find a surveyor?”

“Money, sir. I have far more
expenses than I have income.”

“I’ll survey it in exchange
for land. Land in addition to the four thousand, four-hundred and
twenty-eight acres I’ve paid for, of course.”

“Are you qualified? This is
Texas. Vast and filled with hostile Indians.”

“I’m a graduate of the
United States Military Academy at West Point, New York and I spent
four years surveying the State of Illinois amid many hostile
Indians, sir.”

“Ah.” Austin raised a
finger. “West Point? Are you related to General John Van
Buskirk?”

“Yes, sir, I’m his
son.”

Austin brightened. “I think
we may be able to work something out, sir. Depending, of course, on
how much additional land you would ask in return for your
services.”

“You must have some idea of
how much it would cost to pay for the survey,” Thomas said. “I’d be
satisfied if you paid me in land the equivalent of whatever that
amount might be.”

“Yes. That seems fair.”
Austin went to his desk and referred to some notes, then sat down
and did some calculations on paper. “The low bid is one hundred and
twenty-five thousand dollars. That would be fifteen thousand, six
hundred and twenty five additional acres.”

“Since we both know that
your low bid is far too low and will never be honored, why don’t we
just say this area at the top of the grant?” Thomas suggested,
tracing a rectangle on the map with his finger.

“That’s probably a million
acres,” Austin replied.

“Closer to two million,”
Thomas said. “A hundred miles wide and thirty miles deep, I should
guess. I’ll take my original land from that, of course.”

Austin shook his head.
“That’s equivalent to a quarter of a million dollars in cash. I
have eight bids here for considerably less. Considerably
less.”

“Yes, sir, but you don’t
have the money to pay for any of them.”

Austin continued to shake
his head. “It’s highway robbery, sir. Pure and simple. I won’t
agree.”

“
Perhaps you’ve overlooked
the fact that by settling with me you also avoid a costly law suit
and the bad publicity it would garner.”

“That is extortion,
sir.”

“And of course you’ll have
all this land that I survey available for immediate sale when the
State of Coahuila approves your application. I’d estimate that
should return two and a half million dollars in profit.”

“What if the state does not
approve my application?”

“Then you would owe me no
more than my original purchase.”

Austin checked his
mathematics then looked up at Thomas. “You know that you may well
invest several years in this project and come away with nothing for
your effort?”

“By the time I have
completed the survey, the grant will belong to someone. If not you,
someone else. I believe that the eventual empresario will pay me
for my time at least.”

“To avoid having to
renegotiate with you in the future when you have your survey in
hand, I insist on a contract.”

“Of course. But if you have
failed to get the necessary permission in two years, the contract
is null and void.”

“Agreed so long as you are
bound by the same term.”

Thomas shook his head. “Even
if it takes me ten years you’ll still have the survey.”

“Except that if I have the
permission and don’t have the survey in three years I’ll pay
another surveyor.”

“If you have the
capital.”

“Yes. If I have the
capital.”

“How about a
compromise?”

“Such as what?”

“If at the end of three
years you have the permission and I have not completed the survey,
you may hire another surveyor to work with me toward completion.
His fees will be deducted from my land for cash proposal at twelve
and a half cents per acre.”

“I’ll have to get Mr.
Williams’ approval first, but assuming he has no objections, I’ll
draw up the contract and have it ready for you by this time
tomorrow.”

Thomas shook Austin’s hand
then made his way out to the muddy street where Jane was sitting on
her horse in front of their pack train.

She had a large-bore fowling
piece, which was longer than she was tall, across her saddle and
she smiled when she saw him.

“Any trouble?” he asked her
as he looked about at all the rough looking vagabonds.

“No. Did you get directions
to our ranch?”

“Not exactly.”

“What does that
mean?”

“I’ll explain later.” He
looked up and down the street at the adobe buildings. “Should we
risk a hotel room?”

“The hotel would probably be
safe but if we left our outfit with that livery stable I fear our
horses, mules, gear and the stable master would be gone by
morning.” She craned her neck to look back toward the river. “There
was a place where the riverbank was undercut that would make a good
camp.”

“We’d be robbed and murdered
for certain. We need to hire some men.”

“I wouldn’t trust anyone in
this town. They all look like bandits.”

“At some point we have to
trust someone.”

“Why?”

“We can’t just roam this
country alone, Jane.”

“We’ve been okay so
far.”

“We’ve been okay because
we’ve always been with a group. If we set out alone we won’t last a
day.”

“This is a fine time to
think of that.”

“I had imagined that it
would be more civilized here.”

She looked around. “Is there
a police station or something like that where we could get
advice?”

“I think Stephen Austin is
the judge, the police and the military authority here. I’d rather
not ask any favors of him. We just had a hard bargaining
session.”

“Well we can’t just sit
here, Thomas. Do something.”

“I am doing something. I’m
thinking.”

“Here. Take this and hold my
horse.” Jane handed him the shotgun, slipped off the saddle and
trotted after a woman in a gingham dress who was leading a little
girl by the hand.

Thomas watched her nervously
as she talked to the woman and then trotted back. “What was all
that about?”

“Mrs. Johnson says that she
and her husband have a small farm about a mile down the river and
that we can camp there tonight.” Jane took back the shotgun. “Her
husband is getting the wheel fixed on their buckboard. When it’s
finished, he’ll pick her up at the general store and we can follow
them home.”

“I’m not sure how we’ll be
better off on their little farm than camping on the
river.”

“We may not be, but they’ve
lived and survived here for five years, so they undoubtedly know
more than we do.”

Thomas shrugged
resignedly.

“You can tell me why we’re
not going to our ranch while we wait.”