Land of the Free (2 page)

The war of which Tom was
speaking was the ongoing conflict between the United Kingdom and
the New French Empire of Napoleon. Their twenty-seven-year-old
adopted son, Yank Van Buskirk, was a lieutenant colonel in the Army
of the United States, and consequently both Tom and Nannette were
concerned that the United States would be drawn into the
war.

“He looks tired,” Nannette
said, as Yank led his horse from the ferry barge, mounted and
turned the animal toward them.

“How can you tell from
here?” Tom growled.

“Just because you cannot see
does not prevent me from seeing,” she grumbled back at
him.

“Something bad must have
happened.”

“Yes.”

“Let’s walk down and meet
him,” Tom suggested.

Nannette put down the basket
of flowers then gave Tom a searching look. “How is your
leg?”

“I’m fine.” He waved his
hand dismissively.

“Your limp seems bad
again.”

“I said I’m fine.” Tom took
Nannette’s hand and led her down the steps to cross the meadow
toward the path from the ferry.

“He looks like Anna,”
Nannette said, as Yank’s horse stepped onto the wooden causeway
over the marsh.

“He looks like John,” Tom
argued.

Yank, whose full name was
actually John William Thomas Robert Van Buskirk, was the only son
of Tom’s younger brother, John. Tom and Nannette had adopted Yank
after his mother, Anna Livingston Van Buskirk, had died on a
British prison ship in New York Bay and John was killed leading a
Forlorn Hope at the Battle of Yorktown.

“What’s wrong?” Tom shouted
as Yank’s horse reached the end of the causeway.

Yank kicked the horse into a
trot and raised his hand.

“He cannot hear you,”
Nannette chided.

“Of course he can,” Tom
replied. “It was John who’d gone half deaf from the cannon fire,
not Yank.”

“Oh. You’re
right.”

“But why doesn’t he
answer?”

“Perhaps his answer is too
private to shout so that the entire world would hear.”

“Who would hear him except
us and a few servants?”

“Just hush and
wait.”

Yank reined in his horse and
jumped off to hug Nannette and shake Tom’s hand.

“What’s wrong?” Tom repeated
his earlier question.

“Secretary Hamilton just
died,” Yank replied.

Tom looked confused.
“Where?”

“At Bayard’s house on the
shore.” Yank pointed. “I just came from there.”

“Who has died?” Nannette
asked in a bewildered tone.

“Alexander Hamilton,” Tom
said.

“You knew him during the
war,” Yank added, “I think.”

“Oh yes, of course. We all
know Alexander Hamilton.” She still looked puzzled. “But did you
say it was his secretary?”

“Hamilton is - that is - he
was, the Secretary of Treasury,” Tom grumbled in an annoyed tone.
He looked back at Yank. “What happened?”

Yank shrugged. “Yesterday he
challenged Vice President Burr to a duel and Burr accepted. They
met, Hamilton either fired over Burr’s head or did not fire, that
remains unclear. But Burr’s shot struck Hamilton in the stomach,
wounding him fatally.”

“Aaron Burr has killed
Alexander Hamilton?” Nannette gasped.

Tom gave her another annoyed
look. “Why don’t you pay attention?”

She started to argue but
changed her mind.

“This was at William
Bayard’s place?” Tom asked.

“No, no.” Yank shook his
head. “A physician, Dr. Hosack I think, took Hamilton there to
treat him.”

Tom looked thoughtful for a
moment. “I seem to recall that Burr had a duel with Hamilton’s
brother-in-law, John Barker Church.”

“Yes,” Yank agreed. “Burr,
Hamilton and Church were business partners. In fact Hamilton and
Burr used those very same pistols yesterday.”

“Enough talk of this sad
subject.” Nannette kissed Yank on the cheek. “We’ve missed you. We
were afraid that you were off fighting somewhere in
Canada.”

“She was afraid you were
fighting the French in Canada,” Tom amended. “I was afraid you were
fighting the English.”

“Are you two still
constantly at each other’s throats?” Yank complained.

“He just likes to bugger
me,” Nannette said.

“I think you mean he likes
to badger you,” Yank replied, trying not to laugh. Nannette was
French, and although she had been in the United States for half her
life, she still occasionally flummoxed English. Yank suspected that
it was more often than not intentional.

“Will somebody come and get
this horse?” Tom bellowed toward the barn. “Damn darky kid,” he
grumbled as a black boy of about eleven ran toward them. “What do
we pay them for?”

“Who is that?” Yank asked,
nodding toward the boy.

“Abraham. He’s Old Sally’s
great-great-great-grandson.” Nannette took the horse’s reins from
Yank, handed them to Tom then hooked her arm in Yank’s and began
walking back toward the house. “I dare say, that may not be enough
greats,” she chuckled.

“Is she still
alive?”

“Sally? Of course. She says
that she does not intend to die.” Nannette looked into his eyes.
“So tell me, is there to be a wedding in our future?”

Yank made a face.
“No.”

“No? That’s all? Just
no?”

“I asked and she said no.
That’s all there is to it.”

Impatiently, Tom tossed the
reins to the young groom that had run from the barn then hurried
after Nannette and Yank. “Wait, wait. I want to hear
this.”

Yank stopped and waited for
Tom to catch up. “There’s nothing more to say. She’s in love with
another man and if he doesn’t ask her to marry, she says that she
shall die an old maid.”

“Oh, Yank,” Nannette
soothed. “I’m so sorry.”

“Everything always happens
for the best.” Yank took a deep breath and smiled.

“So what’s your new duty
assignment?” Tom asked. “Still fighting Indians in the Northwest
Territory?”

“No, as it turns out,” Yank
said with a grin, “I’ve been assigned as Military Liaison to
Secretary of State Madison regarding the Louisiana
Purchase.”

“Madison?” Nannette
asked.

“Secretary of State, James
Madison,” Yank clarified.

Tom scowled at Nannette.
“Why does the honorific
secretary
throw you into such a dither?”

She ignored him and smiled
at Yank. “James Madison was your father’s friend. They met during
the Continental Congress and were in the Battle of Trenton together
where James was badly wounded.”

“Madison was never in the
war,” Tom contradicted.

“You’re wrong, Thomas; he
was a platoon leader,” Nannette replied. “He nearly died from his
wounds and never recovered sufficiently to return to active duty.
John knew him well.”

“I know him too,” Tom
protested. “Why does everything in Yank’s life have to relate to
John?”

Nanette shrugged. “A boy
should know about his father and mother.”

“You two are my father and
mother,” Yank said to prevent Tom’s retort. He smiled at Nannette.
“But I’m always glad to learn more of our family
history.”

Tom looked toward the barn
where the boy was unsaddling Yank’s horse. “That damn kid’s just
gonna leave your saddle bags in the tack room. You go ahead. I’ll
get your saddle bags and be in shortly.” He started for the
barn.

Nannette watched Tom for a
moment then began walking to the house. “He and your father did not
always get along so very well. Thomas was the oldest and he did
everything that your grandfather expected of him. John was
rebellious and almost always went against your grandfather’s
wishes. Thomas was the best student and the top of his class at
Sandhurst. John was dismissed for striking an upper classman.” She
sighed. “But everyone loved John and hardly noticed poor Thomas.
John was born to be a soldier and – well, you see what I
mean.”

Yank nodded. “Believe me I
understand very well. Someone asks me almost every day if I am
Colonel John Van Buskirk’s son; ‘tis hard to live up to a
legend.”

She smiled. “Yes. I suppose
that must be.”

Yank hesitated for a moment
then asked, “Was he truly the heroic figure that he’s said to
be?”

“Heroic? No.” She shook her
head emphatically. “To do things that one fears is heroic. Your
father was fearless. Courage came naturally to him. Your mother,
however, was always afraid, as was Thomas. Anna and Thomas were the
truly heroic figures in our family during the
Revolution.”

“How about you? Were you
afraid?”

“Me?” She laughed. “Perhaps
a little, but like John, I was caught up in the excitement of it.
At least in the beginning. By the end I was motivated by hate and
the need for vengeance.” She shook her head to banish the bad
memories. “Tell me about the Louisiana Purchase.” She climbed the
steps to the front porch and sat down in one of the rocking
chairs.

“Well let me see.” Yank sat
down beside her. “A year ago in May, Robert Livingston, our
Ambassador to France, bought it from Napoleon for fifteen million
dollars.”

“Is that your Uncle Robert
Livingston?”

“No. This Robert Livingston
was a delegate from New York originally appointed to the Committee
of Five to draft the Declaration of Independence. He was recalled
by New York before it was finished. My uncle was a New Jersey
delegate. They may be related but I don’t really know. The family
has a propensity for reusing Christian names and the Livingstons
are prolific.”

She nodded. “Go ahead. You
were saying?”

“Well, the Louisiana
Territory is vast. It stretches from the Gulf of Mexico in the
south to Rupert’s Land in the north, and from the Mississippi River
in the east to the Rocky Mountains in the west. Acquiring the
territory doubled the size of the United States.”

“I read about it in the
papers, of course, but was confused. I thought that land was all
Spanish – part of New Spain.”

“It was ceded to France from
Spain in the Treaty of San Ildefonso two or three weeks before we
bought it, but the exact boundaries are a bit unclear.”

“Napoleon needs the money
more than he needs an American Empire,” she chuckled.

“So it seems,” Yank
agreed. “What
are
your thoughts about Napoleon?”

She looked toward the barn
for a moment before answering. “To see my Queen brought so low and
beheaded like a common criminal broke my heart.” She sighed. “But
still, I have become an American and republican and so I had great
hopes for the future of a democratic France after the
Revolution.”

Yank nodded.

“Then comes forth this
little mountebank of common birth, who seizes our new democracy and
declares that France is once again, an empire. Next, he will be
declaring himself Emperor. But enough of that.” She waved her hand
to dismiss the subject. “So tell me now, what exactly is this
liaison that you will undertake?”

“Have you heard of the Corps
of Discovery?”

“The expedition, to survey
the Louisiana Purchase? Yes, of course.” She wrinkled her brow.
“Louis and – something?”

“Lewis, not Louis,” he
replied with a grin. “Captain Meriwether Lewis and Lieutenant
William Clark. They will be seeking to determine the boundaries of
Rupert’s Land.”

She looked confused again.
“I read that the expedition was tasked to find a Northwest
Passage.”

“Yes,” he agreed. “Their
popular task is indeed to try to find a navigable way to cross to
the west coast. A more important task however, will be to establish
the borders of Rupert’s Land. England has no clear
idea.”

“Is there not another
existing dispute over Rupert’s Land?”

He nodded. “Relating to the
boundaries of the Michigan Territory.”

“So? You will go with them?
Lewis and Clark?”

He shook his head. “I am to
lead another, smaller expedition from New Orleans to ascertain the
southwest boundaries between New Spain and the Louisiana Purchase
and then join them somewhere in the Northwest.”

“When will you be
departing?”

“A boat will pick me up at
our dock in the morning and transport me to a frigate anchored off
Sandy Hook.”

She raised her eyebrows. “A
frigate bound for New Orleans?”

“The frigate is bound for
Baltimore. I must receive my final orders from Secretary Madison in
Washington.”

“And then?”

“Unless things have changed,
I will travel from there to Nashville, then down the Mississippi to
New Orleans.”

“Nashville?”

“Nashborough, Tennessee is
now called Nashville.”