Home of the Brave

by Jeffry Hepple

  Home of the Brave

  A novel by Jeffry S. Hepple

  Volume Two of the Gone for Soldiers series.

  Sequel to Land of the Free.

  Smashwords Edition

  Copyright 2009, Jeffry S. Hepple

  All rights Reserved

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  This book is dedicated to Lisa and Scott, my pride and joy.

  Acknowledgements

  The author wishes to thank the following people for their encouragement and help in the laborious process of editing and proof-reading: Dona Dean, Beth Horsch, Margaret Lake, Teresa Shaw, Geoff Thomas, Brian Palesch and special thanks to Susan Trotter.

  Book One

  April 5, 1828

  Van Buskirk Point, New Jersey

  The Van Buskirk family was seated on the broad porch where the current generation was dyeing and painting dozens of hard boiled eggs.

  “John!” Caroline Van Buskirk shouted. “You bring that Easter egg back here this minute.”

  “Let him have it,” her husband, Jack, said with a chuckle. “What harm will it do?”

  “We’ll have an uneven number of eggs for the egg hunt tomorrow,” she answered.

  “Why does that matter?”

  “It matters,” Jack’s sister, Anna, growled unpleasantly. “If you want little John to have an egg, go boil him one.”

  “Oh hell.” Jack jumped off the porch, chased his three-year-old down and took back the purloined egg, causing an instant flood of tears and a shrill scream of protest.

  Yank reached down, took an egg from Anna’s row, cracked it and began peeling it. “Now the number’s even again. Give little John his egg back, Jack.”

  “Father,” Anna complained.

  Jack gave the egg back to his son and the screeching stopped as quickly as it had started.

  “We really should discourage the children from naming their first born child John,” Marina said to Yank.

  “Why? I’m Yank, Jack is Jack and little John is John.”

  “That’s just it. We’re now using adjectives to make the distinction. A few more Johns and we’ll be giving them numbers.”

  “Two of us are Thomas, and I find that very confusing,” Thomas complained.

  “I’m Tom, you’re Thomas,” his great-uncle replied.

  “Aunt Nan calls you Thomas,” Thomas challenged.

  “Yes she does,” Tom chuckled. “Among other things.”

  “I feel left out,” Robert said.

  “You’ve always been the odd one,” Tom teased.

  Robert gave him a cold look.

  Nannette, who was sitting behind Robert in a rocking chair, bent over and kissed him on top of the head. “You’re special.”

  “Are you really going to retire from the army, Dad?” William asked Yank.

  “It’s an Army regulation,” Jack answered, before Yank could. “Thirty years maximum service, regardless of rank.”

  “Well it’s a stupid regulation,” William grumbled. “It forces the most experienced officers out of the army.”

  “There’s a reason for it, William.” Yank wiped hard boiled egg off his chin with his pocket handkerchief. “After the War, the army was full of senior officers who had purchased British commissions or raised militia and were granted commissions in the regular American army. A few of them were fine leaders, but most were not. The regulation was put in place to thin them from the corps.”

  “Speaking of commissions,” William began.

  Thomas scowled at him and shook his head at him vehemently.

  William made an apologetic face. “Never mind.”

  “You can’t do that.” Marina kicked at William. “You started it, now you finish it.”

  William looked at Thomas and Thomas shook his head again.

  Yank turned toward Marina. “Do you know this deep secret?”

  “Yes; Thomas wants to resign his commission to start a surveying and engineering firm,” she replied, “and he’s asked William to join him.”

  “We were trained to be surveyors and engineers at West Point, Dad,” Thomas argued, anticipating Yank’s disagreement.

  Yank shrugged. “I have no objection, as long as you both complete your contractual time-in-service to repay the American people for their investment in your education.”

  “But Dad,” William whined. “I hate instructing at West Point. I really hate it.”

  “How many years did you agree to serve in exchange for your education, William?” Yank asked.

  “Four.”

  “And how many have you served?”

  “Two.”

  Yank shrugged. “Then I suppose Thomas will have to start the business on his own while you complete two more years of your obligation.”

  Thomas looked troubled. “There’s a little more to it, Dad.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “Do you know what an empresarial grant is?”

  Yank shook his head. “No.”

  “The Mexican government has granted land in Texas to perhaps a dozen companies and individuals,” Thomas said. “The recipients of the grants are called empresarios. I’ve bought four thousand, four-hundred and twenty-eight acres in Texas from an empresario named Stephen Austin.”

  “What has that to do with William’s obligation?” Yank asked.

  “I’ll need William to help me improve it. If I don’t improve it within two years my land is forfeit.”

  Marina leaned forward. “More to the point, what does it have to do with surveying and engineering, Thomas?”

  “Surveyors and engineers will be in great demand in Texas, Mother.”

  “You failed to mention that little detail to me.” Marina grumbled. “This whole plan of yours to start a business has blossomed into a boyhood adventure.”

  “Wait.” Yank held his hand up. “I’m still confused. Why do you need four thousand acres of land to start a surveying business, Thomas?”

  “Well.” Thomas hesitated. “I really don’t. But when I was investigating Texas I discovered the empresarial grants and the land was so inexpensive…”

  “How much did you pay this man?” Marina interrupted. “What is his name?”

  The children’s secret nickname for their mother was The Inquisitor. Now Thomas turned to meet the inquisitor’s stare. “Austin is his name, Mother. Stephen F. Austin. I paid him five hundred and fifty-three dollars and fifty cents.”

  “For how much land did you say?” Tom asked in surprise.

  “Four thousand, four-hundred and twenty-eight acres,” Thomas repeated. “The price is twelve and a half cents an acre.”

  “Why, that’s one tenth the price of land in Kentucky,” Tom said.

  “What’s the catch?” Yank asked.

  “Well,” Thomas began, “Settlers won’t have to pay customs duties for seven years or taxes for ten.”

  “I’m waiting for the other shoe, Thomas,” Yank insisted. “Stop selling and answer me.”

  “I have to actively raise livestock,” Thomas offered hopefully. “I was thinking cattle. There’s a big ranch just across the Bay on Long Island. I thought maybe I’d sail over there.”

  “Thomas.” Yank leaned forward and fixed him with an icy stare. “I know you’re hiding something. No one is going to sell land that cheaply. What’s the catch?”

  “In return for the
land we’re expected to become Mexican citizens,” Thomas replied quickly.

  “What?” Marina exploded. “After everything this family has suffered to permit you to be an American citizen – that your grandfather and two of his brothers died for – that your uncle, your aunt, your father and I have done…” She spluttered to a stop, red-faced, and unable to continue.

  “That’s unacceptable to your family, Thomas,” Yank completed for her. “We’re Americans and we don’t give up our citizenship for anything.”

  Thomas started to argue but William signaled him to leave it alone and turned to look at Nannette. “How many children are you expecting for the Easter egg hunt, Aunt Nan?”

  “Less than fifty,” she said sadly. “It’s fewer every year. Everyone is so busy nowadays.”

  Tom got up and hobbled down the porch steps to light his pipe and look out across the property. “When I was a boy, before we moved from here to Elizabeth Town, the Easter picnic used to be so big that this whole meadow was covered with table cloths, each one surrounded by a family. From the widow’s walk, it looked like a giant quilt.”

  “I didn’t know that you ever lived in this house, Uncle,” Anna replied.

  “We didn’t,” Tom said. “This was Uncle Abraham’s house when I was a boy.” He turned and pointed behind the house. “There used to be five other big houses up there where the woods are now, but they were burned down during the War.”

  “By Patriots?” Jack asked.

  Tom shook his head. “By Tories. But it was an accident. Uncle Abraham’s regiment used this property as headquarters. His officers and some of their wives lived in the houses and the rankers lived in tents. I never knew the details of what happened, but I know that the fire started in the tent city and spread.”

  “The two back wings of this house burned too,” Nannette added. “Abraham replaced the kitchen but that’s all. It was much larger before the fire. More than twice as big as it is now. I have the architectural drawings somewhere.”

  Tom nodded. “There was a garden back there between the wings that extended all the way to the orchard. And a huge oak tree, that was eight feet across at the base. My brothers and I used to...” He chuckled and shook his head. “Sorry. I’ll stop now. Old man’s rambling.”

  Yank pointed across the lawn toward a copse of trees. “There was a fort down there and another one on the Newark side when this was first settled. You can still see the foundation stones.”

  “There were several families living here back then,” Tom added. “They had their own militia, their own church up there by the cemetery, and a constabulary. This was called Constable’s Hook back then.”

  “Too bad that politics split up the family,” Anna observed.

  “Remember that,” Yank replied.

  “What does that mean?” she asked heatedly.

  Marina saw the looks of confusion exchanged by her other children and intervened. “Anna is working for the committee to re-elect President Adams,” she explained.

  “What?” Robert stood up to face Anna. “John Quincy Adams is a pompous ass and anyone with good sense knows that.”

  “Andrew Jackson is a jackass and anyone with good sense knows that,” Anna fired back.

  “What do you think, Uncle Thomas,” Yank asked.

  Tom shrugged. “I’m going to vote against the Democratic-Republicans this time, but I’m not joining the Democrats.”

  “The party of the President is now called the National Republican Party,” Anna corrected. “And I simply cannot believe that this family could turn their backs on our Party and our Country.”

  “Adams has destroyed the Party and is ruining this Country,” William said. “He’s an elitist liberal who has turned his back on the grass roots conservatives that elected him. The man even refused to take the oath of office on a bible.”

  Anna gave him an angry look. “You’re only opposed to him because General Jackass is a friend of Aunt Nan and Father.”

  “I’m saying it because it’s true,” Robert argued. “In his first annual address to the Congress, Adams warned our Representatives not to be ‘palsied by the will of their constituents’.”

  “He’s a tax and spend liberal in conservative clothing,” William added. “When Jackson’s elected President, he’ll refocus on the core issues that this country was founded upon.”

  Anna threw an egg at William and stood up. “I can see that I’m no longer welcome in this family.”

  “Oh Anna, please don’t get into one of your snits,” Yank begged, looking up pleadingly at his daughter. “It’s Easter.”

  She glared at him for a moment then stalked across the porch and went into the house, slamming the screen door behind her.

  Tom chuckled. “That girl has used up more doors than the whole family has in two hundred years.”

  Yank looked at Marina. “Go talk to her.”

  Marina shook her head. “It won’t do any good. She’ll say something that makes me angry and we’ll get into a huge fight. She might listen to Aunt Nan.”

  “Not me.” Nannette raised her hands and shook her head. “Anna’s tongue is too sharp and her mind is too quick. Whenever she and I disagree, she leaves me stammering.”

  “I’ll talk to her,” Caroline said. She got up and started for the door then turned back. “Watch little John, Jack.”

  Jack chuckled. “Thank you for reminding me, my dear. Without your prompting, I might have let him wander off to drown in the kill.”

  She gave him a murderous look and went into the house.

  “Women,” Jack said.

  Marina kicked him.

  “Don’t you just love family get-togethers,” William laughed, shaking his head. He was peeling the egg that Anna had thrown at him.

  “Nothing is more important than family,” Tom replied in a defensive tone. “You’ll learn that some day, Billy.”

  “Of course, Uncle,” William replied in a sarcastic tone. “I always enjoy spending my holidays listening to Anna fighting with everyone, or to Mother and Father argue, or to you and Aunt Nan insulting each other, or to Jack and Caroline sniping. What fun.”

  “William,” Marina chided. “That is no way to talk to your uncle.”

  “I’m a grown man and not a child to be spoken to that way,” William replied heatedly. “And Uncle Thomas knows perfectly well that I hate being called Billy. He only does it to get my goat.”

  Tom waved his hand dismissively. “If you were truly a grown man and not a child, a small thing like that wouldn’t get your goat, Billy.”

  “Let me see about luncheon.” Nannette said, getting to her feet. “Will you help me, Thomas?”

  “With what?”

  “Luncheon.” She tossed her head toward the front door.

  He stood up. “No. I’m going out to the barn and talk to that damn darky kid. He’s the only person that gives me any respect.”

  “He shouldn’t,” Nannette grumped. “You don’t even know his name.”

  “‘Course I do.” Thomas limped down the steps. “It’s Abraham Van Buskirk. That’s a name I can never forget.”

  Yank watched his aunt and uncle as they left and shook his head. “It isn’t supposed to be like this.”

  “But it always is, Dad,” Robert replied. “You need to stop trying so hard to bring us all together at every holiday. We all have our own lives now.”

  “Very well, Robert,” Yank replied. “Your mother and I will continue to come here for holidays when duty permits. The rest of you can come or not as you wish.”

  “That’s no different than it is right now,” Robert argued.

  Yank spread his hands. “What do you want me to say? That none of us should ever come here again?”

  Robert got up. “I should have known better than to try to have a reasonable conversation with you, Dad.”

  Yank turned toward Marina for help.

  “Don’t look at me,” she said. “You’re the one that allowed them to talk back to adults.
I would have slapped their faces.”

  “I shan’t be staying for Easter.” Robert went into the house.

  Jack picked up the baby. “Come, Little John. Let’s go watch the ducks.”

  “I’ll come with you,” William said through a mouth full of hard boiled egg. He joined his brother, leaving Yank and Marina alone on the porch.

  Yank watched them as they walked away and then sighed deeply. “When I was a boy I used to think it would be wonderful to have a mother, a father, brothers and sisters.”

  “I wasn’t terribly fond of my parents or my brothers and sisters and I’m even less fond of our children,” Marina replied.

  “You’re not terribly fond of anyone, Marina.”

  “Which reminds me. Have you told me that you loved me today?”

  “Yes I did. When you first woke up. For the four thousand eight-hundred and thirty-fifth time.”

  She nodded. “Okay. I remember now. I suppose that obligates me to stay here instead of running off like my spoiled children.”

  Yank smiled.

  “They’ve had everything too easy.”

  “I’m sure that life will challenge them soon enough.”

  “That’s not what I mean,” she said. “The very idea that Thomas and William would throw away their citizenship is beyond my comprehension.”

  “My grandfather’s Uncle Abraham said much the same thing when my grandfather resigned his commission in the British army and joined the Continental army.”

  “What are you implying?”

  “Nothing. I’m just making an observation.”

  “Well, no matter what anyone else says or thinks, if my sons become Mexican citizens they will no longer be my sons,” Marina pronounced.

  “I suppose that, since the revolution, you’re a Mexican citizen, Marina.”

  “I’m an American by choice; nothing else matters.”

  April 8, 1828

  Washington, District of Columbia