by tiffy
She met his pale blue eyes. ʺI did fear him, even when we first met, but I was young and desperate to return to America. He was a rising diplomat, my only hope of escaping Europe.ʺ
ʺGiven what you have learned of Louvoisʹ penchant for viciousness, do you think this bargain with him wise? I could certainly bring pressure to bear on the man so he would agree to a divorce.ʺ Her eyes took on a hard expression. ʺNo, I will continue the charade as the chargéʹs wife. When he is again posted abroad, I shall remain here. Let tongues wag. He has finally goaded me too far. After watching four years of his intrigues, I too have learned a thing or two about playing the game. Besides, you know the scandal of a divorce would ruin me.ʺ
ʺSurely not if it is handled discreetly. Elkanah would have wanted grandchildren,ʺ he said gently.
ʺSamuel will attend to that in time.ʺ
ʺBut what will you do with your life, Liza? You are still young and far too bright and beautiful to become a recluse.ʺ
ʺIʹm not certain. I feel sad and yet perversely exhilarated all at once. Iʹm free of an intolerable relationship . . . yet my life with Edouard did provide me with many opportunities. Iʹm not only fluent in French and English, but over the years traveling through Europe, Iʹve acquired German and Italian as well as Spanish.ʺ
She paused and smiled artlessly at the big, rawboned man who was the president of the United States. An idea had just occurred to her. ʺIf not for the impediment of my sex, I would make an admirable diplomat.ʺ
Jefferson coughed discreetly. ʺAfter my years as Ambassador to France, I concluded that women often prove the most skilled at diplomacy precisely because of their gender.ʺ
ʺBut being a proper Virginia gentleman, you do not approve,ʺ she said with a wry smile.
He shrugged uncomfortably. ʺI will confess that I have always viewed domestic felicity to be a womanʹs highest calling.ʺ Although her face betrayed no expression, he knew she saw that life as one forever lost to her, and perhaps she was right. ʺYou have my friendship, LizaElise. Whatever you needif there is anything I can do to help you, only call upon me.ʺ ʺI am grateful, Mr. President, but perhaps there is a way I can help you. Living in the French Embassy, I am privy to a great deal of valuable information concerning Bonaparte. There are several things that I had planned to tell Samuel when he arrivesthings Edouard is not aware I know.ʺ
Jeffersonʹs pale eyes took on a keen, penetrating glow. What did Liza know? ʺI have long feared Napoleonʹs ambitions in the New World, especially regarding the Louisiana Territory. We have unconfirmed rumors, which the First Consul denies, that he has forced Spain to return it to France. The army he sent last fall to the Caribbean has not eased my mind. Putting down a slave rebellion on Santo Domingo may be a pretext for positioning his forces to conquer the whole Mississippi Valley.ʺ
ʺI can confirm your worst fears. A second army, even larger than the first, has sailed for Santo Domingo under Admiral Decres. Their ultimate destination is New Orleans.ʺ
Jefferson stood up abruptly and swore, then apologized. ʺThis is monstrous, yet not wholly unexpected. With Spain holding Louisiana, we were in no dangerʺ
ʺWith a weak Spanish king holding Louisiana, the Americans could gobble it up peacefully by the simple expedient of populating it and taking over the economy.
Spain could not stop you. France may try. The treaty retroceding all of Louisiana to France will be signed shortly. Napoleon toys with the idea of reclaiming the land of Champlain and La Salle.ʺ
Jefferson turned her words over in his mind. ʺYou say he toys with the idea. I have sent JeremyMr. Madisonto make discreet inquiries in France about American interests on the Mississippi in the event that France does reclaim Louisiana from Spain.ʺ ʺHas your Secretary of State offered to purchase any of the territory?ʺ she asked, chewing on her lip as she turned the idea about, piecing together in her mind bits of information, surmise, rumor.
His thick, reddish‐gray eyebrows rose with renewed respect. ʺWe have given it thought. Our Western states and territories clamor for open navigation down the Mississippi and free trade through the port of New Orleans. If we could purchase the city . . .ʺ
ʺWhy not the whole of Louisiana?ʺ she asked boldly, knowing full well such had been on American minds for the past two years.
ʺYou are indeed as canny as your fatheror perhaps it is your French motherʹs influence.ʺ
ʺI have learned from both of them . . . and others,ʺ she added bitterly, thinking of Edouard. ʺBut believe thisI am an American. One who has great cause to hate the French. I believe I could be of service to you.ʺ
ʺA way of revenging yourself on Edouard? I do not deem it prudent, Liza.ʺ
She smiled tremulously. ʺNo one has called me Liza since I was fourteen.
Elizabeth was too English‐sounding for Mother. For the past ten years, I have been Elise. I think it would best suit my purpose to remain Elise.ʺ She looked him squarely in the eye and asked, ʺDo you trust Elise Louvois, Mr. President?ʺ
Jefferson sighed in capitulation. ʺI trust Liza Shelby by any name.ʺ
Chapter Three
Washington, DC, One Year Later
ʺI shall miss you, Liza,ʺ Samuel said with a frown marring his normally smiling face. He leaned down to give his sister a peck on her cheek. ʺOur visits are altogether too brief. Iʹve been worried about you this past year since you returned home.ʺ
She brushed aside his misgivings with an airy gesture and inspected his elegant dress uniform. Blueeyed and raven‐haired, Samuel Shelby had cleanly chiseled features and a tall, lean body that doubtless sent many a feminine heart aflutter.
Although he would always be her little brother, at the age of twenty‐one, Samuel was now a man grown. She would have to let go.
ʺI shall miss you, most definitely, but youʹve been given quite an honor. This will be an historic occasion. Just think, youʹll be part of General Wilkinsonʹs official military escort for Governor Claiborne when the French flag is lowered on Louisiana Territory forever.ʺ Elise brushed a lock of dark hair from Samuelʹs forehead with sisterly pride shining in her eyes.
He looked down at her, the beautiful, raven‐haired Liza, with whom he had spent so little time since they were separated in childhood. She had told him little about her years in France and less about her unhappy marriage to Edouard Louvois. He knew she and her husband did not share a loving relationship, but considering Elkanah and Louise Shelbyʹs disastrous marriage, that was scarcely surprising. Yet there was more, some deeply buried pain, about which Liza refused to speak. She still thought of him as that sniveling ten‐year‐old boy who had waved goodbye with tear‐reddened eyes when her boat sailed for France.
He took her chin in his hand and raised her face to meet his gaze. ʺWill you be all right after Iʹm gone? New Orleans is a long way from Washington.ʺ
ʺYes, but now New Orleans is part of the United States. I just might find a way to visit you in the Paris of the New Worldjust to check up on you,ʺ she added with an affectionate twinkle in her eye.
ʺDamn Mother for dragging you off to France and saddling you with that cold fop of a husband! You should have children to worry aboutnot a full‐grown brother.ʺ
ʺWhat is done is done, Samuel,ʺ she said with gentle resignation. ʺI have made a life for myself.ʺ
ʺYouʹve chosen a dangerous one. I know about your messages to the president. If Louvois or anyone at the French Embassy ever finds out . . .ʺ
ʺTut, they can do nothing,ʺ she reassured him. ʺI merely attend soirees and teas, bat my lashes, and listen. Youʹd be surprised what a man will say to make conversation when heʹs dancing with a lady.ʺ ʺJust so you keep to that. I donʹt want you caught with your hand in a diplomatic pouch, Liza. Technically you are a French citizen, and Edouard could haul you back to France and have you executed.ʺ
ʺEdouard will do nothing to me, rest at ease,ʺ she said with a steely edge to her voice.
ʺLiza, what is it about him? Why do you live with a man you de
spise?ʺ
ʺOur paths cross seldom enough in that big embassy,ʺ she replied evasively.
ʺBesides, we both travel extensivelyand separately.ʺ
ʺThen why not take a trip right now? Come with me to New Orleans. President Jefferson would help you get a divorce. You could make a fresh start.ʺ
Gently, she pushed him away and turned from his impassioned plea. ʺI do not want a divorce, Samuel. My course is set and my life is excitingand useful, I think.ʺ
ʺYour life is dangerous,ʺ he said stubbornly.
ʺAnd yours as a soldier is not? I worry all the time about you.ʺ
ʺThatʹs different. Iʹm a man and you are a woman. You should have a good man to love youʺ
ʺI do. My only brother. Stay well and write often, Samuel.ʺ
He hugged her and then winked. ʺYou only want me to write so you may learn about the political intrigue in Louisiana.ʺ
Llano Estacado, Spring 1806
A naked Comanche warrior charged him with lance raised. The Red Eagle fired his Hawkins pistol but took no time to watch as his foe dropped to the ground and was trampled in the melee. All around him, fierce guttural war cries mixed with the thunder of muskets and rifles, the squeal of terrified horses, and the tortured screams of mortally wounded men.
Another Comanche, his tattooed body covered with dust and blood, leaned over the side of his small swift pony and sighted his musket on Night Wind. The Apache leader was engaged in a fierce lance fight with two Comanches, oblivious of the menace at his back. Red Eagle kneed True Blood forward and seized a stiff braid of hair smeared with horse dung. Yanking the Comancheʹs head back, he sliced cleanly across his foeʹs throat with his knife.
Just then, Night Wind finished skewering his second combatant and wheeled Warpaint about to see his brother fling a dead Comanche to the bloodsoaked earth. Realizing that Red Eagle had saved his life, Night Wind saluted him across the carnage.
Almost as quickly as it had erupted in a deafening cacophony of shrieks, the battle ended. The Lipan raiders quickly dispatched the last of the war party of Comanches. An eerie silence descended over the plains while the sun rose in blinding, blood‐red splendor.
ʺAgain I owe you my life,ʺ the leader of the Lipan Apaches said to his half brother, the Red Eagle.
They were brothers who shared the same paternity, yet at first glance few would have thought so. The legendary Lipan raider Night Wind was swarthy, with straight, inky hair that clearly proclaimed his Apache blood. His half‐brother had inherited their sireʹs curly russet hair, and being of solely white blood, was lighter complected. Yet both shared similar bold, handsome faces with prominent straight noses, arched eyebrows and strong jaw lines. But most significant was the brilliant green color of their eyes.
Joaquin and Santiago Quinn, the Night Wind and the Red Eagle, clasped their right arms tightly for a moment, then broke away in silent understanding. All around them lay evidence of a vicious, savage way of life completely at odds with the education both men had been given by the Franciscans. But New Spain was a violent land.
The Comanche had killed a group of peaceful Lipan, including women and children who were on the plains for a spring buffalo hunt. This raid was necessary to warn the Lords of the Plains that their old enemy, the Night Wind, still protected his motherʹs people. As an added benefit, the Comanche, famous horse traders of the plains, had many superb mustangs to enrich the smaller and poorer Lipan bands living to the west in the mountains of New Mexico. As Night Wind and Red Eagle talked, the Lipan warriors rounded up the Comanche horses.
ʹʹWe must have at least two dozen prime mounts. I make a present to you of that splendid white stallion,ʺ the Night Wind said to his brother.
ʺYour generosity is great, Joaquin, but such a one will be excellent breeding stock for your ranch. For the long journey across the Royal Road, I will choose instead half a dozen strong geldings. They will fetch a high price in St. Louis,ʺ Santiago replied in the Lipan dialect he had grown fluent in during the past nine years.
His eyes darkened for an instant as they swept the carnage around him. One Lipan warrior knelt and sliced off an ear from a fallen Comanche. A look flashed between the two brothers as each remembered the horror of their white fatherʹs brutality. Like his Apache enemies, he had collected such grisly trophies.
ʺI think perhaps it is time you did return to civilization,ʺ Joaquin said.
ʺAnd you to your wife and children. I know Orlena misses you even if Bartolomé thinks himself such a man now as to run the ranch in your absence.ʺ
ʺOrlena and your niece and nephews will wish to see you before you make the crossing to St. Louis.ʺ
ʺAnd I them,ʺ Santiago replied warmly.
Joaquinʹs wife, Orlena, was also Santiagoʹs half‐sister. They shared the same Spanish mother and had journeyed to New Mexico together when Santiago was only a fourteen‐year‐old boy. That Joaquin and Orlena had made a life together gladdened his heart.
Herding the captured horses before them, the Night Wind signaled their warriors to ride for the stronghold.
Guadeloupe Mountains of New Mexico
Santiago was lost in thought as they approached the Lipan stronghold. The hidden trail wound through a narrow ravine beside an icy mountain brook, swollen by newly melted snow. Spring had come early to the mountains of New Mexico. Shaggy evergreens were lush with a thick new growth of needles, and the mountain mahogany was in leaf. When he saw the small cluster of brush jacals, his heart contracted. How long could they remain secure here? The Spanish soldiers to the north and the Comanche to the east were both closing in on his adopted people.
Although not bound to the Lipan by blood as was Joaquin, Santiago felt as one with these simple people who lived in harmony with nature. They had opened their hearts and lives to him when he was a bewildered youth, sickened by the cruelty of Spanish conquerors and their hired killer, Conal Quinn.
Among the Lipan, Santiago had become the Red Eagle, a warrior who joined them in raids against the Comanche such as the one they had just completed.
But he was also a successful merchant, traveling from New Mexico east on the Royal Road to the French settlement of St. Louis, now in the United States, and south as far as the City of Mexico. He enjoyed the fleshpots of civilization until the clean air of open plains and high mountains called to him.
He and Joaquin had ridden in companionable silence for a while, but now a third rider pulled abreast of them and spoke, breaking into his ruminations.
ʺWe have many fine ponies from your old enemies, the Comanche,ʺ Spybuck said in his carefully modulated English. ʺDesert Flower will be pleased.ʺ
Santiago looked at his partner. He had ridden with the big Creek ever since Spybuck had saved his life that dark night on the New Orleans waterfront.
Quinn grinned, his teeth a white slash against his grizzled face. ʺAna will be pleased just to see us returned whole.ʺ
ʺMy foster daughter has grown fond of your ugly face these past summers,ʺ
Joaquin added with a speculative look in his eyes as he regarded the big Creek.
Spybuck cleared his throat nervously. ʺI am not ugly, but it is Santiago she loves, and I dare say not in a sisterly fashion.ʺ
Santiago changed the subject. ʺWe should be able to leave for St. Louis by April.
With these horses and the winterʹs catch of beaver pelts, weʹll make a substantial profit.ʺ
ʺWill you again give it all to the Lipan?ʺ Joaquin asked his brother.
Santiago shrugged. ʺWhat else would I do with it? I have my share of the Aranda fortune languishing in banks from St. Louis to the City of Mexico.ʺ ʺYet you move, restless as the wind, from the white menʹs cities to the Apacheʹs strongholds. You could live like a king in the City of Mexico with your motherʹs people,ʺ Spybuck said shrewdly.
ʺWhat he says is true, you know,ʺ Joaquin added softly. ʺThis is a dangerous life to which I do not often return. You need to find a good woman to build a life with and le
t Conal Quinnʹs ghost go.ʺ
ʺI tried to escape Colorado Quinnʹs legacy. You both know what happened when I called myself Count of Aranda. I will not risk more betrayal or pretend to be other than what I am.ʺ His voice held a note of grim finality that silenced both of his companions.
Washington, DC, Spring 1806
Elise peeked through the carriage window as the horsesʹ hooves echoed on the dark, silent streets. Her keen instincts sent a prickling warning that raised the fine hairs at her nape. I am being followed. She called out instructions to her driver, and the carriage veered sharply around the next corner.
In a nondescript house some miles away, Thomas Jefferson sat in a dimly lit room, mulling over the diplomatic dispatches he had received that afternoon.
Thanks to Liza and a few other stalwart operatives, he had been forewarned about General Wilkinsonʹs involvement with the Mexican Association.
Liza. He ran his fingers through his hair, faded from bright red to silvery gray.
ʺNow I know what Washington and Adams must have endured,ʺ he murmured to himself. The letter from St. Louis burned through his coat pocket. How was he going to break the news to her?
She was late for their clandestine meeting. He knew she would have a good deal of information to give him. Odd, how he had come to depend on her more than on any of the men he similarly employed, this in spite of the fact that he had never approved of women interfering in politics. Women should have homes and families to sustain them. Thinking of Edouard Louvois, now off to France on special assignment, he made a grimace of distaste. She will be so alone now.
Hearing soft footfalls coming down the hall, Jefferson stood up and walked to the door. Elise, dressed in a mist‐dampened velvet cape of dark violet, entered the room with an air of brisk efficiency.
ʺI was followed, but after quite a few maneuvers, my driver lost him.ʺ At the look of concern etching his tired face, she continued, ʺNothing to worry about.
Whoever it was is now following an empty carriage headed to Maryland! I have more news of General Wilkinson,ʺ she continued. ʺMy brother has confirmed that he is in direct correspondence with General Salcedo, who is working with the Mexican Association in New Orleans! What a double game he plays. As governor of Upper Louisiana Territory and commander of all the federal troops, he has far too much power.ʺ
