Land of the Free (7 page)

“You needn’t be so
defensive. Many otherwise decent people find it acceptable that
human beings are kidnapped and sold at auction.”

“No,” he protested. “I
mean…”

“How many slaves does your
family own?”

“None. Not one.”

“How many slaves does
President Jefferson own?”

“I could not even hazard a
guess. But I know that he intends to introduce a bill that will
outlaw the importation of slaves.”

“But not a bill to outlaw
the owning of slaves.”

“The southern states would
secede from the Union if he tried.”

“Then they would perish as
they should. All the manufacturing is in the north.” She pointed
ahead. “That is the courthouse.”

~

The court clerk examined the
document. “This is incorrect.” He pushed it back across the counter
then produced a new blank.

Yank and Marina exchanged a
horrified look. “You mean I have to go back to that slave trader
and start all over again?” Yank asked.

The clerk looked bored. “Who
owns the slave?”

“Well…” Yank stammered. “I
do, but I want her freed.”

“Then you should have signed
the emancipation document, not the trader.” He pointed at the blank
form. “Fill this out.” He looked past Yank. “Next.”

“Hold on,” Yank insisted. “I
paid a thousand dollars for that.” He tapped the signed
form.

“Then you were swindled.
Please step aside so that others can be served.”

“
No,” Yank protested. “Not
until you tell me what I must do to free this woman.”

The clerk rolled his eyes.
“I just told you. Fill out the new form and sign it.”

“And then what?”

“Go to the end of this line
and I’ll process you in turn.”

“How much does it
cost?”

“Fifty cents.” He leaned to
the side. “Next, please. Step up.”

Marina took Yank’s arm and
guided him toward the long desk mounted on the wall.

“I paid that bastard a
thousand dollars,” Yank muttered.

“Please, I beg you. Fill out
the form.”

Cursing under his breath,
Yank completed the form, joined the line and paid the half dollar
to have the document registered. “So she’s free now?” Yank asked
the clerk.

“As free as you or me,” the
man replied. “Assuming you’re free.”

Marina pulled Yank toward
the door before he could respond. “Please.”

Grumbling, he gave in until
they were outside. “Is dueling legal in New Orleans?”

“It doesn’t matter. Neither
Joseph or Josiah Meddling are gentlemen. If you issued a challenge
to either they would accept your challenge and then hire thugs to
kill you from ambush on the day and appointed time of the
duel.”

“Well, I assure you that I
will not walk away from this.”

“I’m not asking you to do
anything but cool off before you act.”

“You’re right. I have to
give it some more thought.”

“While you’re thinking, can
we go to the market?”

“Yes.”

~

Yank decided that Marina was
correct about the New Orleans market. One could indeed buy anything
and everything from exotic fruits and nuts to alligator hides and
precious metals. He watched the river traffic while she shopped
quickly, bargained fiercely, and soon returned to him, dressed in
tall boots and riding trousers with no makeup on her face and her
hair stuffed into a huge sombrero.

“How do I look?” She turned
in a circle to show him.

He thought she looked
strikingly beautiful but only said that she looked fine.

She paid him for the
unspoken compliment with a dazzling smile. “Then let us go examine
our livestock and materiel.”

“Livestock?”

“Horses, mules, beeves,
goats and chickens for food and transportation.”

“There was an expenditure on
the books approved by Commander Thompson but I saw no livestock of
any kind at the Navy Yard.”

“If Commander Thompson or
Harvey bought any animals they will be at the stockyards. We’ll
inquire there.”

“At the
stockyards?”

She saw his color fade.
“What?”

He shook his head.
“Nothing.”

“Well it certainly is
something. You looked as if you’d seen a ghost.” She watched his
face a moment. “Don’t tell me that you’re afraid of horses and
cattle.”

He laughed. “No.” He looked
away for a moment to gather his thoughts. “I’ve never seen a slave
market or met anyone like Josiah Meddling before today.”

She nodded, waiting for him
to go on.

“It looked like a
stockyard.” He turned toward her expecting her to laugh at him or
ridicule, but she looked puzzled instead.

“If you feel that way, why
were you offended by my spitting on that pig, Josiah
Meddling?”

“I wasn’t offended, I was
just surprised.”

“I think shocked was the
word you settled upon.”

“If you prefer.”

“You really must learn to
hide your feelings.”

“Like you?”

“I am not a
colonel.”

“What difference does that
make?”

“It just seems odd that a
leader of men should be so transparent. I feel that I can almost
read your mind by watching your face.”

“I shall work on
it.”

“There’s no need to get
angry.”

“I am not angry.”

“Well you are,” she
countered. “It’s written all over your face.”

“Could we perhaps change the
subject, Miss Cortés?”

“Very well. If you will
agree to call me Marina.”

He shrugged. “If you
insist.”

“What’s your name?” she
asked.

“You know my name,” he
grumbled. “It was on those emancipation papers. I’m John Van
Buskirk.”

“Do people call you John,
Van, or are you Colonel Van Buskirk to everyone?”

“My friends and family call
me Yank.”

“Yank?”

“As in Yankee
Doodle.”

She began to
giggle.

“Why is that
funny?”

“Well I was trying to work
around to putting us both on a first name basis, but I refuse to
call you Yank, Colonel Van Buskirk.”

“Perhaps that would be
best.”

“I don’t think I like you,
Colonel.”

“I don’t particularly care,
Miss Cortés. In fact, I prefer it. That will make things a bit less
complicated.”

August 20, 1804

New Orleans, Louisiana
Territory

At the sound of the knock on
his hotel room door, Yank snatched the pistol from under his pillow
and rolled off the bed. “Who is there?” he called out in
French.

“Marina Cortés.”

“Just a moment.” He put down
the pistol, stepped into his trousers, padded to the door and
opened it. “What time is it?”

“Nearly noon.” She came in
and closed the door. “You’re a late sleeper.”

“I had a late night.” He
went through his kit bag and began searching in its depths for
clean socks and a shirt.

“Someone released all Josiah
Meddling’s slaves last night.”

“Is that so?” He sat down on
the bed to pull on his socks.

“He’s missing.”

“Missing Meddling. If I
wasn’t so tired I think I could make an interesting limerick from
that.”

“Joseph Galloway
too.”

“Never heard of
him.”

“He owns a tavern called the
Gray Lady,” she said sarcastically.

“Never heard of the place.”
Yank rubbed the stubble on his chin. “I need to shave.”

“I can shave you, if you
like.”

“The idea of you with a
razor at my throat isn’t appealing.”

She sat down on the bed.
“Are they dead?”

“I wouldn’t
know.”

“Do you always sleep with a
loaded pistol?”

“Yes.” He poured water into
the basin. “Is a little privacy too much to ask?”

“No.” She made no move to
leave. “A thousand dollars is a great deal of money but two human
lives are worth more.”

“What’s the value of three
hundred slaves?”

“Most of them will have been
caught by now, the rest will be cowering somewhere with no money,
no plans and no hope.”

He lathered his face and
looked at her in the mirror. “I don’t want or expect any gratitude
from you, but I will have respect or you can go your own
way.”

“If I ever meet a man that I
respect I’ll show it. You’re not him.”

“You are dismissed, Miss
Cortés. You may keep the advance.”

She fluffed his pillows and
lay back on them. “I found our stock. Some of the horses are half
wild but I know a good wrangler.”

“I said that you’re
dismissed.”

“You can’t dismiss
me.”

“Why, pray tell, can I
not?”

“Because I know what
happened to Josiah Meddling and Joseph Galloway.”

“You only think you
know.”

“It hardly matters. Some of
the recovered slaves will have seen your face and slaves are only
loyal to the hand that’s holding the whip.”

He turned to look at her.
“Do you think I killed Meddling and Galloway?”

“Yes.”

“Then what makes you think I
won’t kill you?”

Her eyes went wide. “You
wouldn’t. Would you?”

He turned back to the
mirror. “Meddling and Galloway have left the city. Galloway may
sneak back after my expedition has moved out but Meddling is on his
way to Kentucky to start a new life in a more honorable
profession.”

“Freeing those slaves was
still a crime,” she said, a bit less certain than
before.

“There’s no law that says a
slave owner can’t free his slaves.”

“But without papers…” She
watched his face. “They have papers, don’t they?”

“And twenty dollars in gold
each.”

“That’s six thousand
dollars. He only swindled you out of one.”

“Interest.”

“What did you do to them?
Meddling and Joseph, I mean.”

“I never put a hand on
either of them.”

“That’s an
evasion.”

“I know.”

“You won’t tell me, will
you?”

“No.”

She sat up. “Did you do
anything about the mother of the boy who was sold
yesterday?”

“She’s on her way to Baton
Rouge with her daughter. I sent a letter with her to the planter
that bought her son. I think he’ll do the right thing.”

She smiled. “Would you like
to go upstairs with me?”

He turned to look at her.
“This is the top floor.”

“No. You don’t understand.
When I worked at the Gray Lady and a man wanted…”

“Say no more,” he
interrupted. “I do understand.”

“Well?”

“No thank you.”

“I wasn’t a whore by
choice,” she said angrily.

“That’s
immaterial.”

“What must I do to get you
to rehire me? I have nothing else of value to offer.”

“That’s not going to work.”
He rinsed his face and picked up his shirt. “Your friends told me
that you double-crossed them.”

Her color faded.

“How many times have you
done this?”

She got up off the bed and
walked toward him. “You don’t understand.” She looked
frightened.

“Of course I understand.
Joseph sells you to some fool like me. Meddling fakes the ownership
transfer and you run away from the fool and go back to Joseph at
the first opportunity. Then you’re sold again to some other fool.
Clever, except now you have no one to go back to, do
you?”

“Please believe me. I wasn’t
going back to Joseph this time. You have to believe me. Please. I
want to go with you.”

“Oh dear. I’ve made a huge
mistake,” he said sarcastically.

“You have made a mistake. I
swear on my life.” A tear rolled down her cheek. “Think about it.
Please. Just think about it. I took the papers from Meddling so
that you’d take them to the courthouse instead of him. I spit in
his face to show him I was through.”

He nodded. “I wondered about
that.”

“Joseph never sold me to
anyone like you before,” she said. “They were all pigs who would
have used me, abused me and exploited me worse than Joseph. The
moment I saw you I knew you were different. I decided that I’d find
some way to go with you.” She caught her breath. “Please take me
with you,” she sobbed. “Chain me if you must. I want to go with
you. You have to believe me.”