Home of the Brave (3 page)

“Buy slaves?” Thomas said,
raising an eyebrow. “Mother would kill me.”

“Well hire people in Texas
then. I don’t know. Do you want the money or not?”

“Yes. But I’ll pay you
back.” He looked toward the River. “I wonder where William
is.”

Robert shrugged. “I m-must
get back. I have a good deal of studying to do before
tomorrow.”

Thomas looked back at Robert
sharply. “What are you hiding?”

“Me?”

“Of course, you. You always
stammer when you evade or tell a lie.”

“I wasn’t lying. S-staying
at the top of my class is much harder for me than it was for Jack,
William and you.”

“Where’s William,
Robert?”

Robert shook his head.
“He’ll kill me if I tell you.”

“I’ll kill you if you
don’t.”

“Damn. I hate being
the
Little Brother
.”

“Too bad. Where’s
William?”

Robert took a moment to
reply. “He has rooms in the town. He stays there on weekends and
days when he’s not teaching or on duty.”

“Why would he do that? The
instructor’s quarters here are beautiful.”

“I’ve already said too much,
Thomas.”

“A woman?”

“I didn’t tell you
that.”

“What else didn’t you tell
me?”

“Please, Thomas. You don’t
know William the way I do.”

“Damn it, Robert. This is
important to me. Why can’t you see that?”

“She’s married,” Robert
said, in a small voice.

Thomas chuckled.

“It’s not funny, Thomas.
She’s married to a French general that’s attached here as a
consultant.”

“Oh shit.”

“William’s drinking too
much. You know how wild he gets when he drinks. I don’t know what
to do.”

“You should have told me
before.”

“I tried to talk to Jack but
he said that Thomas was a grown man who had to make his own
decisions. I supposed you’d say the same thing.”

“Our dear brother, Jack, is
a rigid, hard-nosed, narrow-minded bastard who has no compassion
for anyone that doesn’t meet his impossibly high standards of
morality. Where, in town, is William’s hideaway?”

“
You have to protect me
from William, Thomas. If you tell him that I told you about the
woman he’ll get his revenge by keeping me from remaining at the top
of my class.”

Thomas waved his hand
dismissively. “Even Thomas wouldn’t stoop that low.”

“You don’t know him any
more. He’s got a mean streak. Especially if he’s been
drinking.”

“He doesn’t drink when he’s
on duty, does he?”

“Yes.”

“If Commandant Worth finds
out, William will be sacked and drummed out of the Army. Or does he
think that Dad’s friendship with Colonel Worth will protect
him?”

“No. He knows that Dad
wouldn’t protect him and that Dad would stop being a friend of
Colonel Worth’s if Colonel Worth did.” Robert sighed. “I think the
root of the problem is that William doesn’t see this as a real
military assignment and he resents Dad’s influence in getting him
posted here. That’s why he was so keen about resigning his
commission and going to Texas with you. He hates teaching and he
hates it here.”

“Well, I happen to know for
a fact that Dad had nothing to do with his getting posted here. The
real root of the problem is only that William’s wild and always has
been. You didn’t answer me. Where are these rooms of
his?”

“I’m not going to tell you
that, Thomas. You’ll have to find it on your own.”

Thomas looked into his
younger brother’s eyes. “You’re really frightened of him,” he said
in astonishment.

“You don’t know, him,
Thomas,” Robert said in a voice that was little more than a
whisper. “He’s a monster.”

April 21, 1828

Cornwall, New
York

According to the county
property tax records, William Van Buskirk’s “rooms in town” that
Robert had mentioned proved to be a two-story, clapboard house with
gingerbread eaves and louvered storm shutters. Thomas climbed the
steps to the broad porch and rang the bell.

The door was opened almost
immediately by a very pretty young woman. “It’s about God damn
time. I could have bled to death by now.”

“Pardon me?”

The woman looked alarmed.
“Who are you? Did Bill send for you? Are you the
doctor?”

“No, I’m not a doctor. I’m
William’s brother, Thomas.”

She stepped back to permit
him entrance then closed the door behind him. “Don’t you have a
medical bag or something?”

“I wasn’t told to bring
anything,” he stammered.

“I think I have a curved
quilting needle. Can you use that?”

“A curved quilting needle?”
he repeated, deciding that he would play along. “Oh. Well, yes. I
suppose I can use that.”

“My sewing is in the
parlor,” she said, and waddled through a pair of double doors. “I
don’t know why he didn’t tell you what to bring.”

“You know Bill.” Thomas was
trying not to gape at the framed drawings on the walls. All were of
nude women in chains, being flogged, or otherwise abused by men in
hoods or masks.

“Where do you want me?” She
handed him a small curved needle and a spool of thread.

“Uh - where would you
suggest?” he said, mystified but unwilling to expose his
ignorance.

“The kitchen, I
suppose.”

He nodded and followed her
through an adjoining dining room into the kitchen.

“Do I need to take all my
clothes off or can I just hold my dress up?” She began removing the
placemats, the salt and pepper shakers and sugar bowl from the
table.

Thomas looked at the curved
needle and realized that it was very similar to the suture needles
that surgeons used to close wounds. “First tell me what
happened?”

“You can guess.”

“I’d rather not.”

“It was a wine bottle,” she
said in an annoyed tone.

Thomas nodded, kept his eyes
on hers and hoped his expression was neutral.

“I was screaming that it
hurt me, but he must have thought it was from pleasure and he kept
pushing until it ripped me. He often gets too rough but he said
this was an accident.”

Thomas put the needle and
thread on the kitchen table. “Where is he?” he asked. There was an
angry edge in his voice that the woman recognized.

“Don’t you know?” Her face
showed alarm.

“No.”

“You’re not really his
brother,” she gasped.

“I’m really his brother but
I don’t know who or even what you are.”

“Get out,” she screamed
pointing at the door. “Get out.”

Thomas hesitated for a
moment then he started for the door but it opened and William came
through it, followed by Marina.

“Hello, Brother,” William’s
eyes were hooded and dangerous. “Fancy finding you
here.”

“What have you done?” Thomas
shouted.

“That’s enough,” Marina
snapped, stepping between them. “Both of you get out.” She looked
at the woman for the first time. “No, no, wait. Just a moment. I’ll
need one of you to hold Justine.” She put the leather bag she was
carrying on the kitchen table and pushed her wet hair back out of
her face.

“I’ll have no part of this,”
Thomas said, struggling to regain his composure.

“Then wait for me in the
front room,” Marina replied. “You can take me home when I’m
finished and William can stay here with Justine.”

“My name’s not Justine,” the
woman said sharply. “Bill thinks calling me Justine is very funny.
She’s a character in a filthy little French book.”

“I don’t care to know any
details of my son’s depravity, thank you,” Marina
replied.

“Why Mother,” William
chuckled. “It’s not depravity, it’s art. The book is
entitled
Les infortunes de la
vertu
. It was written by Donatien Alphonse
François, Marquis de Sade. Are you unfamiliar with his
work?”

Marina turned angrily toward
William. “If you think this is a joking matter, I’ll go back home
with Thomas and let you solve your problem.”

William smiled benignly.
“Very well, Mother. Very well. You are, as always, the
boss.”

“This is your mother?” the
woman shouted. “I send you for a doctor and you bring me your God
damned family?”

Both William and Thomas
started shouting and the woman shouted back

“Stop.” Marina raised her
hands. “Everybody just stop talking a moment.” She pressed the
heels of her hands to her temples and closed her eyes.

The three younger people
exchanged looks silently.

“Alright.” Marina took a
breath and turned to the woman. “I just came fifty miles up the
Hudson in an open boat to help you. My son says that you’re a
married woman and that your husband is in Boston until next week,
is that correct?”

“Yes.” The woman nodded.
“But I want to know if you can do this without making it
worse.”

“I’ve done it before,”
Marina said. “I assisted a midwife when I was a girl. What’s
happened to you is very common during child birth.” She turned back
to her sons. “William, you stay here and help me. Thomas, wait for
me out there, please. This shouldn’t take long.”

“I don’t want him here,” the
woman said, pointing at William. “No one needs to hold me
down.”

Marina nodded then looked at
her boys. “Both of you wait outside.”

The two men exchanged
malevolent looks.

Marina aimed her index
finger at them like a pistol. “If you get into a fight I swear by
all that’s holy to make your lives into a living hell. Both of you.
Out.” She waited until they had gone then went to the sink to wash
her hands. “What’s your name, dear? Your real name.”

“Why do you need to
know?”

“I don’t really, but it
seemed appropriate to know your name if I’m to be handling your
most intimate parts.”

“Carlotta. Carlotta Ramirez.
I mean, Carlotta Dubois.”

“Ah. I’d heard that General
Dubois had married a Spanish beauty, half his age.”

“You know him?” The woman
looked terrified. “You won’t tell him, will you?”

“Of course I won’t tell him.
That would expose my son.” She walked back to the table and opened
her bag. “I have some camphor but it may hurt more than it helps.
The midwife that I assisted didn’t use any kind of topical
anesthetic.”

Carlotta began to cry. “I’m
so ashamed.”

Marina put her arm around
her. “That’s silly. You’re not the first young woman who married an
old man and wanted to know what life was really about.
Unfortunately, you chose my son.”

“It isn’t Bill’s fault,”
Carlotta said quickly. “I like it. The bondage, I mean. He only
does it to give me pleasure.”

“Yes, well, I think you may
be wrong about that, but I’d prefer not to discuss it.” Marina took
her arm from around the younger woman and blotted Carlotta’s tears
with her handkerchief. “We won’t do this until you’re ready. If you
haven’t bled to death by now you’re in no real danger.”

“I’m sorry about how I
behaved earlier. You’re very kind and I’m grateful.”

~

Marina and Thomas were
standing on the fantail of the ferry. “Do you have any cigars?” she
asked.

Thomas nodded. “You’re not
going to smoke a cigar in public, I hope.”

“Just light one and let me
have a puff or two. I’m exhausted.”

Thomas went through the
ritual of clipping and trimming a small cigar then positioned
himself to screen Marina from the view of the other passengers
before giving her the cigar.

Marina took a deep pull on
the cigar and inhaled the smoke through her nostrils as she
released it from her lips.

Thomas looked nervously over
his shoulder.

“It might be best if you
don’t mention this to your father,” Marina said.

“Your smoking or William and
Justine - or whatever her name really is.”

“Her name is Carlotta and
your father knows I smoke, Thomas.”

“Where does he think you
are?”

“West Point. William told
him that Robert was ill. When we get home, I’ll tell your father
that it was a false alarm and that Robert is perfectly healthy.
We’ll just have to hope that Robert goes along with the
lie.”

“Robert will go along. He’s
terrified of William.”

“You’re being overly
dramatic.”

“Robert told me that William
is a monster.”

Marina turned to look at him
and gave him back the cigar. “William is somewhat deviant in his
sexual behavior, as is that woman, but he’s not a
monster.”