Home of the Brave (23 page)

“Cherokee,” Lagrange
contradicted.

“Whatever they is they got
muskets,” Whipple said dismissively. He pointed to a pile of
battered muskets in the corner. “English. Probably got ‘em from the
Creeks.”

“How many?” Thomas
asked.

“There was ten when they
come after us,” Whipple replied. “Four when they changed their
minds.”

Thomas counted the muskets.
“Ten?”

“They don’t know the range
of their muskets and they have to dismount to reload,” Lagrange
said. “We just rode up and took the empty weapons from the four
survivors.”

“We could of kilt ‘em all
but big hearted Charlie here got religion or somethin’.” Whipple
waved his hand annoyedly at Lagrange.

“I’m tired of unnecessary
killing.” Lagrange replied.

“Tell me that when them four
come back with a few hundred others,” Whipple growled. “All of ‘em
armed.”

“I have a question about
Williamsburg, Charlie,” Thomas said to curtail the coming argument.
“Didn’t you go to college there?”

Lagrange nodded. “I grew up
not far from there too.”

“How many public insane
asylums are there in Williamsburg?” Thomas asked.

Lagrange gave him a puzzled
look. “Just one, as far as I know.”

“The one I’m interested in
would be where a court might send someone who was judged to be
criminally insane.”

“That’s very rare in
Virginia,” Lagrange replied. “Our courts prefer hanging the
criminally insane to paying for their maintenance.”

“In the rare instance,”
Thomas persisted, “where would such a person be sent?”

“The Public Hospital for
Persons of Insane and Disordered Minds,” Lagrange said. “It’s on
Francis Street, near the College of William and Mary, I walked by
it almost every day.”

“Describe it to me
please.”

Lagrange glanced
questioningly at Whipple then looked back at Thomas. “It’s a
two-story brick building with a white cupola on the roof and a
combination weathervane and lightning rod on top of
that.”

“How hard would it be to
break somebody out of there?”

“There are cells below
ground with little windows,” Lagrange said. “I’ve never seen one
from the inside. What’s this about, Tom?”

“My brother William’s in
there.”

“
What did he do?” Whipple
asked.

“I don’t know,” Thomas
replied. “Something very bad, I think. But I’m going to get him out
no matter what he’s done.”

“I’ll go with you,” Lagrange
said. “I’ve been kinda homesick lately.”

“Then go home on your own,
Charlie,” Thomas advised. “Going with me could get you hanged or
land you in prison.”

Lagrange put the rifle aside
and got to his feet. “That hospital’s a bad place, Tom. Everybody
knows it and nobody does anything about it. I wouldn’t feel a bit
guilty about breaking all the inmates out of there.”

“And turn lunatics and
idiots free?” Whipple asked. “No offense, Tom. I’m sure yer brother
ain’t neither one. I’m just sayin’…”

“William’s no idiot but he
could be a lunatic,” Thomas said. “But no matter what he is, he’s
still my brother.”

“If you knew what goes on in
that place you wouldn’t be so quick to run your mouth,” Lagrange
said loudly to Whipple. “They torture the inmates worse than the
dang Spanish Inquisition. They use ducking chairs, whips, knives,
poisons and I don’t even know what else.”

“Now why would they do such
of a thing?” Whipple asked dubiously.

“There’s a belief that
irrational behavior is a choice that insane people make and that
torture can convince the person to mend their ways,” Lagrange
answered.

“No,” Whipple said with a
chuckle, waving his hand at Lagrange. “That ain’t true.”

“I’m telling you,” Lagrange
said. “I heard it from the keeper himself.”

“What kinda man would do
such as all that and then tell about it?” Whipple asked.

“Before he was assigned to
the hospital, he was the keeper of the Williamsburg Public Jail,”
Lagrange said. “According to him the criminals there got even worse
treatment.” He looked at Thomas. “When did you want to
go?”

“As quick as we can get
ready.”

Lagrange nodded. “We’ll have
to go through Bexar so I can get them to send a replacement up here
to help Josiah.”

Whipple shook his head. “I
don’t need no help, Charlie. Just go the quickest way.”

July 31, 1831

Two Alone Ranch, Coahuila,
Mexican Province of Tejas

Quincy, who had been digging
in the sandy soil in front of the main cabin, pointed up to the
bluff. “Horse.”

Paul Van Winkler stepped
into the front door and took down the rifle from the
pegs.

Anna shaded her eyes. “White
man on an eastern horse and riding on a saddle.”

“It’s Thomas,” Jane said.
She ran to the long corral, caught a big gray stallion by the mane,
swung onto him and put her heels back. The horse sprang forward and
effortlessly jumped the fence.

“Do you think she’s glad to
see him?” Anna asked.

“I suppose,” Paul Van
Winkler replied.

“Have you ever been excited
by anything, Paul?”

“Not that I can recall.” He
hesitated. “There’s only one horse and rider.”

Anna nodded. “Yes. I see
that.”

“You don’t seem
surprised.”

“Charlie left without saying
goodbye. Although I was hoping, I didn’t really expect him to
return.”

“I’m sorry,
Anna.”

“I’ll get over
it.”

Thomas saw his wife racing
toward him and reined in his horse then dismounted to
wait.

Jane jumped off the running
horse and ran headlong into Thomas’s arms, nearly bowling him
over.

Laughing Thomas hugged her
tightly and lifted her feet off the ground.

“I missed you so much.” She
held his face between her hands and kissed him noisily five times,
then pulled away to look at him. “Where’s Charlie?”

“He had some business in
Virginia but he’ll be back in the spring.”

“William?”

“Dead.”

She looked stricken. “What
happened?”

“Charlie and I broke him out
and then William and I started back. When we got to St. Louis
William disappeared. They found a body downriver a few days later.
From the description it sounded like William.”

“You didn’t go in to
identify the body?”

“After being in the river
for a few days I would have had to identify him by his clothes. I
knew from the newspaper article that they were the same as William
was wearing.”

“What aren’t you telling
me?”

He shook his head. “I can’t
get anything past you, can I?”

“It wasn’t him, was
it?”

“I really don’t know that,
Jane. But he wasn’t despondent and he, like all of us, could swim
like a fish. My father made sure of that.”

“So he vanished to change
his identity?”

“My guess is that he thought
I’d report him dead and the wanted posters would all go
away.”

“That sounds a bit
cold.”

Thomas nodded. “Cold would
be the right word to describe William. He was always a bit cruel
and quick-tempered as a boy. Now he’s heartless and has no remorse
for the things he’s done.”

“Did you ever learn what he
did?”

“I learned that he was
convicted of murdering three men in cold blood. I never want to
know all the things he’s done.”

“How did your father and
mother manage to keep him from hanging?”

“My father didn’t. He told
William that he should pay for his crime. My mother hired every
high priced lawyer in Virginia, bribed every judge and God only
knows what else.”

“We should get down to the
house,” Jane said. “Anna’s there waiting and she must think Charlie
ran out on her.”

Thomas picked up his reins
then looked around. “Where’s your horse?”

“He went back to the barn.”
She pointed.

“We’ll have to walk then.
This old boy is about ridden out.”

“That’s fine.” She took his
hand. “We’re about half way finished with the roundup.”

“How does it
look?”

“About twice the size of
last year.”

He raised his eyebrows. “You
know what? We might really get rich down here.”

“It’s possible.”

“Indians?”

“We had some trouble with
armed Cherokees for a while but Josiah drove them north and we
haven’t seen any for a while. Buffalo Hump may be keeping them
away.”

“It sure is good to be
home.”

December 1, 1831

Two Alone Ranch, Coahuila,
Mexican Province of Tejas

With one last shudder, Anna
collapsed onto Charlie Lagrange’s chest and nuzzled his neck. “Umm.
That was the best ever.”

“You always say that,” he
panted, stroking her bare back with the fingers of both
hands.

“Can we stay like this
forever?”

“Probably not.”

“Why?”

“Somebody’s likely to find
us in the morning and throw a bucket of cold water on
us.”

She giggled and after a few
gasps, rolled off him, onto her back. “Any chance that you’d marry
me, Charlie?”

He propped himself on his
elbow to look at her. “Are you proposing?”

“Of course.”

“Then my answer is
yes.”

She sat up. “Don’t toy with
me, Charlie.”

“I don’t know how to be any
plainer than by saying yes.”

“You mean it?”

“Absolutely.”

She fell on top of him and
kissed him passionately.

“Easy, girl.” He pushed her
off and looked into her eyes. “I’m only flesh and blood. Give me a
few minutes.”

“What changed your mind?”
she asked, after a few seconds.

“My mind hasn’t changed. I
fell in love with you the first time I saw you.”

“What changed your mind
about being married?”

He shrugged. “I don’t think
my mind changed. If you’d asked me a year ago I would have said
yes.”

She slapped him gently on
the arm. “Liar.”

He shook his head. “I just
never could muster the courage to ask you.”

She giggled. “Jane’s going
to get a laugh when I tell her that.”

“Oh please don’t tell her,
Anna,” he said seriously.

“Okay, Charlie. I
won’t.”

“Thank you.”

“Are you going to formally
announce our engagement then?”

“First I have to ask Tom for
your hand.”

“Tom’s not my
father.”

“I know. But that’s the way
I want to do it. Then Tom can make the announcement.”

“Okay. On one
condition.”

“What?”

“Make love to me
again.”

December 12,
1831

San Diego,
California

The gambler was dressed in
an expensive suit of clothes with a silk cravat and two pistol
belts across his chest with a flintlock revolver in each holster.
“Well, look at that,” he said in Spanish as he turned up his hole
cards. “It seems I have won again.”

“No one can be that lucky.”
The other man was fat and wearing a serape and gaucho
trousers.

The gambler sat back in his
chair and waved his hand at the pile of money in the middle of the
table. “If you think you should be entitled, help
yourself.”

“I was only saying that you
are too lucky,” the fat man replied.

“You might improve your game
if you drank less mescal.” The gambler raked the cash into his top
hat. “It is time for me to bid you gentlemen adieu.”

“You got most o’ my poke,” a
dirty man growled in English. “I want a chance to win it
back.”

Holding his hat against his
chest the gambler stood up. “What you want and what you get are
likely to be two entirely different things.”

The dirty man’s hand reached
toward his pistol and a bullet ripped through the top-hat striking
him in the chest.

“Damn. Ruined my hat.” The
gambler put his pistol back in the holster, began removing the cash
from the smoldering hat and stuffing it in his pockets.

The fat man pulled back
his serape to reveal a badge which read,
Jefe de Policia
. “You will put up
your hands now, Señor.”

“Not today.” The gambler put
the still smoking hat on his head and crossed his arms, tapping the
ivory pistol grips with his index fingers. “Your move, Señor
Gordo.”