Home of the Brave (17 page)

“Just take me with
you.”

He looked back at the herd
and signaled that they were going to leave the trail. “Okay. Let’s
go.”

~

Jane refilled their coffee
cups, then walked back carefully toward Thomas, trying not to spill
any.

One of the vaqueros at the
fire was watching her buttocks and made an obscene gesture to the
man beside him. Several of the others laughed.

“You.” Thomas’s voice rang
out like a shot as he got to his feet and drew both his pistols. He
aimed the gun in his right hand at the vaquero who made the gesture
and strode toward him.

The man got up quickly and
raised his hands.

Thomas put the muzzle in the
man’s face. “I do not like the disrespectful motion you made with
your hands or the way you were looking at my wife,” he said in
stilted Spanish.

“Me Patron? I did
nothing.”

“Now you have called me a
liar.” Thomas jabbed him in the chest with the pistol hard enough
to knock him down then he fired a shot between the knees of the man
beside him who had started to draw his pistol. “I will kill the
next man that moves,” Thomas roared.

The men all looked at him
wide eyed, but no one moved.

“We will have a vote,”
Thomas announced. “Do we kill these two or send them away? All
those who want me to kill them raise your hand.” He waited. “No
one? Or is it that you just do not care? All those who want them
sent away raise your hand.”

All the men, including the
two condemned men, raised their hands.

“Jane?” Thomas
shouted.

“Yes,” she replied
nervously.

“Cock that rifle and if
either of these two looks back, shoot him,” he said in English.
“And look confident.”

“Very well.” She cocked the
rifle and brought it up to her shoulder.

Thomas looked at the two
men. “Get up, get your gear and get out. If I see you again, I will
disembowel you both.”

The two men scrambled to
their feet and hurried to their horses.

Thomas watched them as they
saddled their horses, mounted and started out toward the setting
sun. “I pay you very well to watch my cattle,” he said to the
remaining men. “I am the only one who is permitted to watch my
wife’s backside when she walks.”

A shot rang out and Thomas
turned quickly toward Jane who was holding the smoking rifle, and
then he looked back toward the two riders. One man was riding hard
toward the southwest with a riderless horse following close behind
him. “What happened?” Thomas asked her.

“He took out his rifle so I
shot him,” she said in a quavering voice. “Like you told me
to.”

Thomas pointed at the
closest vaquero. “Take two men with you and bury that bastard. You
can have his money or whatever else he has of value except his
pistol and his rifle. Those are mine.”

“What if he is not dead,
Patron?” the man asked.

“Just take his weapons and
whatever you want, then leave him for the wolves.”

“Yes, Patron.” The man
leaped to his feet, signaled two other men and the three ran toward
the tool wagon for shovels.

Thomas walked back to Jane.
“Are you okay?”

“No. I just killed a
man.”

He gave her a moment. “You
shot a man that intended to shoot you or me.”

She began reloading the
rifle. “We have to report it to the Texas Rangers right
away.”

“Why?”

“So that it can go on record
while we still have witnesses. I don’t want to get arrested for
murder when that man’s family reports him missing.”

“This isn’t New York, Jane.”
He looked at the vaqueros with the shovels who had reached the man
that Jane had shot. None of the three was digging. “It looks like
you didn’t kill him anyway.”

She looked too. “Then we’ll
have to take him with us to the Rangers.”

“What?” He asked
indignantly. “Oh hell, Jane. We don’t even know where to find any
Rangers.”

“There’s a fort up by the
Hueco village. The Johnsons mentioned it and I found it on the
map.”

“That note on the map was
written by a settler that passed through God knows when. And it
said Waco not Hueco.”

“We have to map the Brazos
anyway.”

“Yes but I was planning to
bypass the Hueco Village to avoid any possible
conflict.”

“Mrs. Johnson said that
they’re part of the same band that lived by them. They’re
friendly.”

“She said the Indians that
lived near them were Wichitas.”

“Wichita is the tribe, Hueco
is the band.”

“Well if these are the same
Indians that Mrs. Johnson was talking about you might recall that
she also said that they were driven off by
ne’er-do-wells.”

“Yes, I remember
that.”

He shrugged. “They may not
be as friendly now.”

“We’re not going to be able
to avoid Indians forever.”

“We can avoid these Huecos
or Wacos right now very easily by cutting across to the northwest
and picking up the river above their village.”

“Maybe, at the village, we
can find an interpreter that speaks some of the local languages. My
Montauk is useless here.”

“Damn, you’re
hardheaded.”

She waited.

“Okay,” he sighed. “I’ll go
get him and drag him back, but he’ll probably die on the way north.
It’s a long way.”

“Thank you,
Thomas.

He shrugged resignedly then
trotted off toward the three vaqueros with the shovels. He had
almost reached them when one of them took out his pistol and shot
the man on the ground. Thomas stopped and walked back to Jane.
“Well, that problem’s solved.”

“I still want to tell the
Rangers,” she said after a moment.

June 13, 1829

Washington, District of
Columbia

The Austrian Embassy Ball
was one of the most highly anticipated social events of the year,
primarily because the dance program promised a card nearly filled
with Viennese waltzes. The scandalous waltz, unlike the communal
sequenced dancing of the past, was performed by couples who faced
and actually touched one another. Lord Bryon, in the prelude to his
poem,
The Waltz
,
described it “like two cockchafers spitted on the same
bodkin.”

Marina Van Buskirk tipped
her head down, smiled and batted her eyelashes at Senator James
Carver, who was watching her from across the room.

Peggy Eaton, the wife of the
United States Secretary of War, John Eaton, looked over her bare
shoulder toward Carver then back at Marina. “Did you just give Jim
Carver a come hither glance?”

“Yes.”

“What on earth
for?”

“I think he’s very
attractive.”

“Oh balls. That isn’t going
to work with me, Marina.”

“What ever do you mean?”
Marina asked, wide-eyed.

“The rumors about Anna must
be true.”

“What rumors?”

“About her being confined
and carrying Carver’s child.”

“I’ve never heard anything
so outrageous.”

“I’m not stupid, Marina,”
Peggy giggled. “You’re going to try to seduce Carver and then
somehow get revenge for what he’s done to your
daughter.”

Marina smiled, not quite
warmly. “I suspect that you may be ever so much smarter than I gave
you credit for, dear, dear Peggy.”

“Don’t tell anyone your
suspicions and I’ll keep your secret,” Peggy replied in a stage
whisper.

“What would you suggest I do
to get my revenge?”

“Do you want him dead,
ruined or embarrassed?”

Marina pursed her lips. “I
think ruined would taste best but dead would be nearly as
good.”

“Driving them to suicide is
my usual course of action,” Peggy replied. “But it might be
difficult in view of Carver’s particularly selfish
nature.”

“I was thinking of having
him discovered in bed with a lady of the evening.”

“No good.” Peggy shook her
head. “He’ll claim you set him up. Even if most people believe you
and don’t believe him, it’ll still give him enough maneuvering room
to avoid ruin.”

“What do you suggest?”
Marina asked.

“Perhaps if he was caught in
bed with a man?”

“How would I arrange
that?”

“I don’t know
offhand.”

“Maybe I’ll just have him
killed.”

“Where’s the fun in
that?”

“It doesn’t matter
anyway,” Marina sighed. “My
come hither
glance
didn’t work and he’s gone
thither.”

Peggy stood on her toes
trying to see over the heads of the crowd. “Well, wherever he is,
he’s thinking about it and he’ll cave in soon.”

“I think he, like you, may
be smarter than I’d thought.”

“He knows that you may be
setting a trap but your good looks, and particularly your good
breasts, will overcome his good sense. The man thinks with his
groin. I know him.”

“How well do you know
him?”

“A bit better than
Anna.”

“You really are a hussy,
Peggy.”

“Quite true. That’s
something else that I’m still hoping the world doesn’t find out
about me.” She smiled at someone who had come up behind Marina.
“Why there you are, Senator Carver. Marina and I were just talking
about you.”

Carver bowed to both women
then took his eyes from Peggy’s ample cleavage to look into her
eyes. “I was wondering, Mrs. Eaton, if I might have the next
dance.”

Peggy looked at her dance
card. “I am so sorry, Senator, but the next dance is a waltz and my
husband has forbidden me from waltzing.”

“A pity,” he said, turning
to Marina. “Have you any objections to the waltz, Mrs. Van
Buskirk?”

“None at all,” she replied.
“I am always looking for new and exciting experiences.”

“Then, may I have the honor
of the next dance?” Carver asked, with his eyes fixed upon the
hollow between her breasts.

“I would be delighted,” she
said, with a curtsy that gave him a better view down the front of
her dress.

“Your dear wife did not
accompany you?” Peggy asked Carver to cover a giggle.

“Alas,” he said, without
looking away from Marina. “She suffers terribly in Washington’s
heat.”

The orchestra played a short
fanfare and the next dance was announced amidst a twitter of
conversation.

“If you will excuse us, Mrs.
Eaton.” Carver took Marina’s arm and led her onto the empty dance
floor.

Marina looked around. “It
seems that we are the only couple with the courage to try
this.”

“The Europeans will be
joining us shortly. They are waiting to see how we blue-nosed
Americans react.”

“I had thought that we
Americans were quite liberated. Are we in fact blue-noses, do you
think?”

“Some of us more than
others.” He looked away from her for a moment then looked back. “I
somehow had failed to notice what an extraordinarily beautiful
woman you are, Mrs. Van Buskirk.”

“Why thank you, kind sir.”
She gave him a smile and another curtsy that made his eyes pop. “I
was hoping you would find me attractive, even though I am many
years my daughter’s senior.”

He looked uncomfortable for
a moment but recovered quickly. “And how is Anna? I have not seen
her in some time.”

“I’m afraid that you ruined
the poor girl.”

Carver looked
stricken.

“After her breakup with you
she became attached to another older man. She lives with him now in
sin, as some might call it.”

“Really?” He swallowed
visibly.

“Yes. She is with child. It
may be yours or the other man’s. She will not say.”

“I assure you,
Madam…”

Marina raised her hand. “If
you are about to apologize, please spare yourself. I know that Anna
suffers from the same hot, Mexican blood which courses through my
own veins.” She looked around then stepped closer and in a
conspiratorial tone said, “With my husband away, I must confess
that my own Mexican blood is near boiling. I pray that my passion
will not be aroused further by this dance.”

Carver cleared his throat
and squirmed. “I am told that the waltz can have such effects upon
the ladies.”

“Oh, that is a relief, in
view of the fact that I am no lady,” she tittered.

“Uh, Mrs. Van Buskirk,
forgive me if I am too forward but…”

“Please call me Marina. And
I assure you that you cannot possibly be too forward.” She turned
to look at the dance floor. “Ah. I see that there are some
courageous couples among us. You must promise to hold me tightly if
I swoon.”