Karen Michelle Nutt (38 page)

James Madison, president of the United States of America,

To all who shall see these present, Greeting:

BE IT KNOWN, That in pursuance of an act of congress, passed on the 25th day of September one thousand eight hundred and twelve, I have Commissioned, and by these presents do commission, the private armed Schooner called the Good Intent or any vessel confiscation of the burden of one hundred and forty-five tons, or thereabouts, owned by Keldon Buchanan …”

It was like a dream. The document couldn’t be real, but he had it in his hands signed by President James Madison himself.

He had a Letter of Marque absolving him and his crew from any past crimes of piracy. With this document, he had the authority to continue his quest as he saw fit in the name of the United States of America. Arianna had attained this for him. When? How?

Then he looked at the other papers and realized at once what they were. “The divorce documents.” He’d forgotten about them. He was no longer married to Arianna and she knew it. "Arianna, where are ye?”

Silence.

He sat down heavily on the bed with the forewarning of what his life would be without her.

Vincent found him there and frowned as he walked in. “What’s wrong?”

Keldon looked up. “Here.” He handed him the papers. “See for yerself. Arianna has obtained a Letter of Marque.”

“What…” Vincent had taken the papers and was now looking them over. “But how?”

“I doonae know.”

Vincent couldn’t contain the happiness he felt. “Do you know what this means?” He didn’t wait for Keldon to respond and answered his own question. “It means, I can ask Bernadette to marry me without feeling guilty that I could leave her widowed in the next breath.”

He glanced at Vincent. He had been so preoccupied with his own grief he had failed to realize his best friend’s dilemma. “Ye really do love her, then?”

“Oui. From the first, but I had fought my feelings because I believed I was not worthy.”

“Any woman would be honored to have ye.”

Vincent’s smile was wan. “Thank you for the compliment, but when you have no permanent home to speak of and no steady income, how could I dare to hope she’d marry me?

He sighed. “But that’s all behind ye now.”

“Thanks to Arianna.”

Keldon couldn’t meet his gaze. “Aye.” He was silent for a moment. “Did ye know I divorced her?”

Vincent nodded. “She told me.”

“I dinnae do it because of her betrayal.” For some reason, he felt he needed to defend his actions. “The divorce was something I had done long before, when I thought I dinnae care for her any longer. It was when she was so, uncaring and… weel different. I received those papers on the day we discussed our departure. Ye handed them to me and later I put them in my top drawer of my desk.”

“Why didn’t you give them to her, if that was what you wanted? Why did you lock them away?”

“I doonae know.” Keldon answered, though he did know. He didn’t want the divorce. He fell in love with Arianna, the person she became. He wanted a life with her, but now it was too late. Arianna had seen the papers. No wonder she left him. What had he expected her to do when they were no longer promised to one another?

Not one kind word had he given her once he knew of her involvement with Sherborn. Without complaint, she nursed him back to health, knowing he’d divorced her.

He didn’t even grant her the decency to hear her explanation. Every time she had extended her hand, he had stubbornly hit it away. He blamed her for a life she didn’t remember and finalized everything with those damn documents. He refused to forgive her and with his actions, he denied himself the chance to heal. He denied them a chance for a future together.

CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

Jackson proclaimed martial law in New Orleans as soon as it deemed possible and with his main force he set up camp. Keldon and Vincent were making their way to Jackson's camp with two other men that had vital information to present.

Jackson seemed pleased to see familiar faces. “So, you decided to join the fight, Buchanan.” He reached for his hand.

“Aye. We’re here with my ship the
Hope
.”

“Excellent, excellent.” Jackson glanced at Keldon’s attire of trousers, vest and linen shirt. “I am glad you decided to put your
kilt
away for this adventure.”

Keldon hesitated for a half a second. Jackson knew or at least suspected he was the Highland Pirate. Then it dawned on him how Arianna could have obtained a Letter of Marque. Jackson had helped her. He cleared his throat. “I thought it would be best. I wish I could say differently, but we have heard rumored that a Highlander unit is to fight and I dinnae want to be mistaken for the enemy.” He nodded toward the two men that had traveled with them. “These gentlemen have information ye must hear.”

Jackson listened to every detail about the British force seizing plantations and made the announcement to his men without reservations. "Gentlemen, the British are below, we must fight them tonight."

With five thousand men and with the aid of the 14-gun schooner, the
Carolina
; Jean Laffite’s band; and Keldon’s
Hope
, they made their attack on the British in the dead of the night.

The British were stunned by the boldness the Americans displayed and they were forced to retreat to safety so that they could wait until their troops were brought in from their fleet.

Jackson used this time to his advantage and had his men retreat to the
Chalmette Plantation
situated on the banks of the Rodriguez Canal. The land separated the British camps from New Orleans. Jackson ordered a mud rampart so the Mississippi River was on the right and the Cypress swamp on the left. It would prove impossible for the British to get by them.

Unaware of what lay ahead, General Pakenham on the British side put forth his plans of attack. They made their move on December 28
^th
.

With the help from the
Louisiana
and the
Hope
, once again they blasted the British flank with broadsides from the river. Pakenham bombarded the Americans with artillery, but Jackson's gunners were able to still stand their ground against them.

Keldon had a purpose in life that he had forgotten. He wanted to live and he wanted to protect what was his. He wanted to win back the family he’d driven away. So he fought and when he had time to rest, he dreamt of a lass with moonlit tresses and who sang to him with her beautiful lilting voice. She was part of his soul and his hope for the future.

CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

January 8, 1814, at dawn when the fog was the thickest, Pakenham had his men cross the Mississippi River downstream. He planned to attack Jackson's troops on the riverbank opposite the Rodriguez Canal. Once they were in position, they would then attack each side of the American lines.

“If only the fog hadn’t cleared,” Pakenham muttered. “Damn the troops for taking so long to cross the river.”

"General Pakenham, we don't have the ladders or the fascines.” One of the soldiers came toward him with the information.

He paced with frustration then turned on his man. "Where are they?” When the soldier had no reply, he lost it. “How do you plan on scaling the ramparts without the damn ladders?"

"Sorry sir, but in the rush this morning the Unit in charge—"

"Get out of my sight.” He waved his hand at him in dismissal. “And prepare to fight."

As Keldon approached Jackson, the General handed him a mug. “It’s hot,” he warned.

“Thank ye, General.” Keldon took a welcomed sip. The coffee was strong, but it was what he needed to warm his insides. “I spoke with the Haitians like ye asked. They wannae fight as well.”

“Good.” Jackson nodded. “Former slaves now fighting as free men.” He took a seat by the fire and Keldon joined him. “We have everyone now that your wife said we would have on our side. The Kentucky and the Tennessee frontiersmen with their deadly long rifles, and Laffite and his outlaws. Don’t tell him I said that.” He chuckled.

Keldon smiled, knowing Laffite insisted he was a businessman. “The British still have twice as many men.”

“Yes.” Jackson sighed. “Do you not have faith in what your wife has foreseen?”

“Aye, I do have faith.” He nodded, knowing that even if Arianna happened to be wrong, Jackson’s ragtag force had enough determination to win this campaign.

“Together, Buchanan. Together, we create a united force to be reckoned with. Do you not agree?”

“Do ye think that Pakenham would listen to reason, if we made him aware of what we know?”

“I have already tried to communicate with the man, hoping to stop this madness. He wouldn’t listen. I have no wish for unnecessary bloodshed, but I cannot let New Orleans be taken. There is no other way, but to fight.”

“Do ye believe fate is written and there be no changin’ it?” Keldon couldn’t help but wonder. Arianna knew of what would come of this war, but she hadn’t foreseen
their
future. She didn’t foresee he would pine for her or else she would not have left his side. Of this he was certain. She left because she believed there could not be a future for them, but she was wrong.

Jackson sighed. “Maybe history cannot be changed. Maybe we just have to follow it through, no matter the consequences. Perhaps we are all fated to do time’s bidding.”

As expected, fate was not kind to General Sir Edward Pakenham. His tactics were flawed because of the continual mistakes his men made, as well as his own decisions. He placed his troop in a dangerous position, making them perfect targets as they marched across the open ground without any cover. The men fell by the score and his senior generals were shot at the beginning of the battle, leaving the men without anyone to direct them. Still, Pakenham was determined to win the encounter. He ignored the first two wounds he received and continued his march, but the third wound was severe. He stumbled and fell.

A quick assessment was made, confirming the inevitable. An artery in his leg had been severed. Pakenham knew there wasn’t much time. A change in command was vital. He grabbed hold of the man that would replace him. "Continue the attack,” he choked out his last command as his breath caught in his throat and death took him.

"What do we do, sir?” The young man at the new General's side asked. "Do we go on as General Pakenham ordered?”

"No. Enough have perished. We take the survivors and pull out."

"But sir, General Pakenham said–"

"I believe that I am the General now and I gave a direct order.”

"Yes sir."

With the shout of surrender, Keldon was put in charge of searching for survivors, American and British alike. The going was long and tedious. There were more he found dead, than alive. He was ready to abandon his search, when a sound drew his attention. He pulled out his weapon and headed into the foliage. He caught a glimpse of a man fleeing and went after him, tackling him to the ground.

The man struggled to free himself, but Keldon had the upper hand and pressed the barrel of the gun to the back of his head. “Doonae move or I’ll be forced to blow yer head clear off.” The man froze and Keldon removed his knee from the man’s back. He stood above the British soldier with his weapon ready if he needed to use it. “Now, slowly get to yer feet.”

The man stood and turned to face his attacker. The moment recognition sunk in, Keldon cursed. “Sherborn, are ye bound to always cross my path?”

Nicholas managed a lopsided grin, his dimples denting his cheeks. “How have you been, Buchanan?”

Keldon lowered his gun. “I be doin’ a mite better than ye, it seems. These parts are swarmin’ with Americans tryin’ to capture all British that still have life in them.”

“So, I’ve witnessed. I’ve been trying to make my escape.”

“Then why are ye still here?”

“In midst of the fighting, I was knocked unconscious from an explosion that left the man beside me without half his face. When I came to, the fighting had already ceased and my unit had retreated without me.”

“Aye.” Keldon nodded.

“Captain Buchanan, are you all right?” Evan McLeary, a young man with Jackson, called out to him. In a matter of seconds, Sherborn would be discovered.

Keldon’s gaze never wavered from Nicholas as he quickly shouted back to McLeary, letting him know he was fine. “Take the men and head back to camp. There are no survivors left.”

“Aye, aye, Captain,” McLeary, answered.