Home of the Brave

by Jeffry Hepple

  Marina took a deep pull on the cigar and inhaled the smoke through her nostrils as she released it from her lips.

  Thomas looked nervously over his shoulder.

  “It might be best if you don’t mention this to your father,” Marina said.

  “Your smoking or William and Justine - or whatever her name really is.”

  “Her name is Carlotta and your father knows I smoke, Thomas.”

  “Where does he think you are?”

  “West Point. William told him that Robert was ill. When we get home, I’ll tell your father that it was a false alarm and that Robert is perfectly healthy. We’ll just have to hope that Robert goes along with the lie.”

  “Robert will go along. He’s terrified of William.”

  “You’re being overly dramatic.”

  “Robert told me that William is a monster.”

  Marina turned to look at him and gave him back the cigar. “William is somewhat deviant in his sexual behavior, as is that woman, but he’s not a monster.”

  “I’d rather not discuss it, Mother.”

  “Very well. I know this is asking a lot but can you go back up to West Point tomorrow and get your Uncle Thomas’s sailboat?”

  “William promised to bring it back.”

  “I have no confidence in William’s promises. Besides, you’re a much better sailor than William. He almost drowned us both on the trip upriver.”

  “In William’s defense, Uncle Thomas’s little sharpie is a fine boat for oystering on Long Island Sound, but not for traveling against a heavy river current like the Hudson.”

  “Will you get the boat or must I do it myself?” she asked angrily.

  “Yes, Mother, I’ll get the boat. But I can’t get it tomorrow.”

  “When then?”

  “As soon as I can,” he snapped. “If that’s not good enough, please feel free to go get it yourself.”

  May 13, 1828

  Cornwall, New York

  Carlotta Dubois opened the door of William Van Buskirk’s house. “Bill’s not here.”

  “I know,” Thomas said. “I had to come back up here to get my uncle’s sailboat so I thought I’d check on you.”

  “Check on me?”

  “See how you are. See if you need anything.”

  “Oh.” She stepped back. “Come in.”

  Thomas followed her inside and closed the door. “William says that he hasn’t seen you since my mother – my mother’s visit.”

  “That’s true. I’ve sent him a dozen messages but he refuses to answer.” She led him into the parlor and sat down on the couch and began to wring her hands. “My husband will be home on Monday so I can’t stay here.”

  “I don’t understand. Do you need help to get home?”

  “No.” She sobbed. “I’m only staying here because I need to talk to Bill, but he won’t come or answer my messages.”

  Thomas was unsure of what to do. “He must be ashamed that he hurt you.”

  She shook her head, sniffed and took a handkerchief from the sleeve of her dress to blot her eyes. “He likes hurting me as much as I like being hurt.”

  Thomas’s eyes wandered to the prints on the wall. “You like being hurt?”

  “Yes. Not injured like – like what happened.”

  He pointed to a drawing on the wall. “Like that?”

  “Yes. It excites me.”

  “Please forgive me, but that seems absolutely mad.”

  “There are millions of people like me. Men and women.” She got up and retrieved a small book from the shelf, gave it to Thomas and sat back down.

  Thomas leafed through the pages looking at the drawings then put the book on the arm of the couch. “There’s simply no way that I’m going to be able to understand. Is there anything I can do for you?”

  “You could whip me.”

  He looked horrified.

  “Who knows? You might like it as much as your brother. I didn’t know what I was missing until Bill awakened me.”

  Thomas turned toward the door. “I think you should seek help. Discuss it with your minister perhaps.”

  “I’m Catholic and I don’t even confess the things I do with Bill, let alone discuss them.”

  “I’ll see myself out.”

  May 14, 1828

  Van Buskirk Point, New Jersey

  “She said that she wasn’t aware of her appetite for punishment until William awakened it in her,” Thomas said. “I don’t know how he did it, but he corrupted the girl.”

  Yank picked up a flat rock and tossed it side-arm to skip across the water. “I think your use of the word awakened is probably accurate. Something in the girl was unbalanced before she met William.”

  “She really seems like a decent girl, Dad. Well bred, intelligent. William’s done something to her and as an officer I’m obligated to report it to Colonel Worth.”

  “When you resigned your commission you shed all the obligations of a serving officer.”

  “Then the civil authorities,” Thomas snapped.

  “I know how shocking and upsetting this is for you, Thomas, but there’s nothing illegal in William’s behavior. You have no obligation to report his activity to Colonel Worth or to any civilian authorities.”

  “Surely William is in violation of the Academy’s code of morality, Dad.”

  “I don’t know if there is a code for staff. There wasn’t when I was there.”

  “There’s a code of human decency and William has broken it.”

  Yank looked at Thomas. “You asked me a specific question about your obligation as an officer and I answered it. If you feel obligated as a man to take some action, that’s an entirely different matter, and a question that I cannot answer for you.”

  “I must say that you are taking this far more calmly than I anticipated.”

  “Everyone seems to think that I’m narrow-minded.” He picked up another rock and skipped it. “I can’t think why.”

  “Have you heard of French writer by the name of Marquis de Sade?” Thomas asked.

  “Yes, of course. He was imprisoned by Napoleon and died in an asylum near the end of the war.” He glanced at Thomas and then picked up another flat rock. “Is that what you think William has become? One of de Sade’s followers?”

  “I wasn’t aware that de Sade had followers, only that he had written some disgusting books.”

  Yank sent the rock skipping over the water. “I’ve always been embarrassed by the discussion of human sexuality so I’ve allowed you children to be educated in such matters by your mother, who is untroubled by discussing almost anything. As a consequence, I have no idea what you know and don’t know.”

  Thomas chuckled. “I’m twenty-three years old, Dad. You don’t have to tell me about the birds and bees.”

  “No, but I might need to tell you that what goes on in the dark, behind bedroom walls between consenting adults can often appear to be something disgusting when exposed to the light of day.”

  “Meaning that inflicting pain as a means of self-gratification is not wrong?”

  Yank shrugged. “I don’t know about right or wrong but I can’t see any real harm when two people agree to something that provides them both with pleasure. As long as no one is really hurt, of course. That would be another matter.”

  “Does William inherit it from you and mother?” Thomas gasped.

  Yank looked confused for a moment and then laughed. “No, Thomas. I don’t know where he gets it.” He chuckled again. “Not that I’d wish to, but your mother would shoot me dead if I even suggested whipping or debasing her in some way. The women who need that have no confidence and…” He shook his head. “I should shut up now because I really don’t understand it.”

  “I’ve been afraid that – maybe I was – you know, like William.”

  Yank shook his head. “William has always been cruel to animals, servants, anyone that he could bully. It’s in his nature. As for this woman he’s involved with, I really can’t say.”
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  “Why didn’t you do something when William was younger if you saw those things in him?”

  “I didn’t know what to do. Punishing him just made him harder and colder. Uncle Thomas was merciless in trying to change him and all he’s gotten for his trouble is William’s hatred in return.”

  “I think William hates all of us.”

  “I think William hates William, but I’ll be damned if I know why.”

  “So what do you advise me to do?”

  “Nothing. Go about your life. Go to Texas and raise cattle or survey land. But leave William here.”

  “What about Robert?”

  “Leave Robert too.”

  “He needs to be protected from William.”

  “If he does, he should drop out of West Point immediately and forget ever becoming a soldier.” Yank picked up another rock. “It might be best if you don’t tell your mother about this. She might not understand.”

  “Very well.”

  June 1, 1828

  Van Buskirk Point, New Jersey

  Nancy Vreeland expertly maneuvered her father’s skiff around the point into New York Bay, then tacked back into the Kill, gaining speed with the wind. “Hello in the boathouse.”

  Thomas Van Buskirk put down his paintbrush, walked out of the boathouse onto the narrow dock and shaded his eyes. “Hello yourself.”

  “Catch me.” Nancy turned the sailboat toward the dock, dropped the sails and scrambled forward to coil the bowline.

  “You’re going too fast, Nance,” Thomas warned.

  Ignoring his protest, she tossed the line overhand then sat on the bow and put out a bare foot to stave off the dock.

  Thomas caught the line and rushed to move a fender into place, barely managing to keep the small sailboat from crashing into the dock. “You’re a madwoman.”

  She laughed gaily and reached out her hand. “I knew you’d catch me like you always have.”

  Thomas pulled her up onto the dock and extracted himself gently when she looped her arms around his neck and turned her face up to be kissed. “Uh-uh. No kissing.”

  She gave him a pouty look. “I was just being friendly.”

  He tied the boat to a cleat. “We can be friends without kissing.”

  “We could be more than friends if you’d forgive me.”

  “There’s nothing to forgive.” He walked onto the boathouse and picked up the paintbrush.

  Nancy stepped up beside him and ran her hand over the unpainted patch on the sharpie’s hull. “What happened?”

  “William left her tied to a dock at West Point and she got battered.”

  “So instead of abandoning her like you did me, you fixed her.”

  He looked at Nancy for several seconds but then dipped the paintbrush and began applying another coat.

  “How is it that you can forgive your brother but not me?” Nancy persisted.

  “If it makes you feel any better, I didn’t forgive him either.”

  Nancy sat down on a sail chest. “I hear you’re going to Texas.”

  He nodded.

  “Take me with you.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “As a friend. Just take me there so I can make a fresh start.”

  He turned to look at her again. “There’s nothing but ruin in Texas for an unmarried woman.”

  “I’m already ruined, Tom. Maybe in Texas…” She covered her face with her hands and began to weep.

  Thomas put down the paintbrush and walked over to kneel in front of her. “Come on, Nance. It can’t be that bad.”

  “You have no idea,” she sobbed. “My life is in ruin.”

  “You’re twenty-two years old, smart, beautiful, rich and healthy. A few mistakes will hardly ruin your life.” He gave her a handkerchief.

  “I hate living in Washington.” She wiped her eyes and blew her nose.

  “Then come home. Nothing’s keeping you there.”

  “I’m having an affair with a married man.”

  He made a face. “Okay. I take back what I said about you being smart.”

  “If you’re really going to Texas, you need to find a wife here before you go,” she said in a challenging tone. “Unless you plan on marrying an Indian.”

  “I’m not prejudiced against Indians.” He squeezed her hand and stood up. “My mother’s an Indian.”

  “I could be a good wife, Thomas,” she wailed. “I swear that I could.”

  “We had a chance once, Nancy, but that’s in the past.” He went back to the boat and, once again, retrieved his paintbrush.

  “Nothing’s changed. Nothing important.” She got up and followed him to the boat. “I just have some experience now. I’m much more fun in bed than any teenaged virgin you’re going to find. I could teach you things.”

  He looked at her. “The things my brother taught you, I don’t want to know. I recently had the unpleasant experience of meeting one of his Marquise de Sade partners.”

  “I’m not like that. He wanted me to, but I wouldn’t.”

  “You and I are through, Nancy. We’re through forever. There’s nothing you can say or do that’s going to change that.”

  June 15, 1828

  Washington, District of Columbia

  Nancy was laying face down on her bed, weeping.

  Anna sat down beside her and rubbed her back. “Why are you so distraught? You didn’t love him anyway.”

  “I know,” Nancy sobbed. “But being rejected again still hurts.”

  “Maybe you should go home.”

  “I will if you will.”

  “I have a reason to stay.”

  Nancy turned to look at her. “You’re fooling yourself, Anna. James Carver is never going to leave his wife for you. As soon as the election’s over, he’ll dump you just like Michael dumped me.”

  Anna got up and walked to the window. “I’m sorry that my brother rejected you and that Michael dumped you, Nancy. But that doesn’t have anything to do with James and me. He loves me and I love him.”

  “He’s a United States senator, Anna. He’s not going to divorce his wife, leave his children and abandon his career for you.”

  Anna glared at her for a moment then walked out the door and slammed it behind her.

  June 21, 1828

  Montauk Point, Long Island, New York

  Thomas Van Buskirk lowered the sails of the sharpie and as the Atlantic swell turned the small boat’s bow into the tide, quickly dropped the anchor. When the anchor bit into the seafloor, Thomas tested it and then went back to the stern to pull the dinghy forward and climb in.

  As the surf pushed him toward the lighthouse, he pulled to the left until he grounded the rowboat on a narrow beach and shipped the oars.

  “That’s a foolish thing to do,” a man shouted from the bank above.

  “What is?”

  “Anchoring out there on such a short line.” He pointed to the sailboat. “A good roller will pull your anchor free and your boat will be on the rocks before you know it.”

  “Are you the light keeper?”

  “I am.”

  “I was hoping for directions to the Deep Hollow Ranch.”

  “The headquarters is at Third House.” The man pointed. “About six miles. On the Bay side. ”

  “Thank you.” Thomas climbed out, turned the boat and pushed it into the breakers, leaping nimbly over the transom to take up the oars. By the time he was back aboard the sailboat he was winded and drenched with perspiration and seawater. Anxious to be away, in case the light keeper’s predictions proved correct, he raised the sails and maneuvered the boat to dislodge the anchor and then hauled it in. As he spun the craft on her keel and pointed her into the west wind, the light-keeper waved and Thomas waved back.

  The sharpie’s draft was so shallow that Thomas was able to hug the coast enabling him to see hundreds of cattle, sheep and horses grazing in the grassy meadows. After several landings and shouted questions, Thomas arrived at Third House, which was located just west
of the Montauk village. “Hello,” he called.

  “Hello.” A young woman in dungarees wearing a red kerchief on her head was on a ladder replacing a slate tile on the front wall. “Can you hold this ladder for me please?” she called back.

  “Yes, of course.” Thomas trotted forward and stood beneath the ladder to steady it. “Okay. I have you.” He looked up at her and grinned.

  She looked at him strangely. “What did you say? O.K.?”

  “Oh. Sorry. Okay’s a family word. It means you’re safe. I have the ladder.”

  She let go of the top rung and nailed the tile in place then dropped the hammer onto the grass and climbed down.

  Thomas stepped from under the ladder. “Is this the headquarters of Deep Hollow Ranch?”

  “Yes it is. You’re not superstitious, I see.”

  “What’s that?”

  “You just walked under a ladder.” She removed the kerchief from her hair and shook it out.

  “You have hair just like my mother’s,” he observed.

  “Is that good or bad?”

  “I’ve always liked my mother’s hair.”

  “Is she an Indian?”

  “Yes.” He wrinkled his brow. “Maybe. I don’t know.”

  “You don’t know?” the woman giggled.

  He shrugged. “Sometimes she says that she’s Indian and sometimes she says she’s Mexican.”

  “A lot of people wouldn’t know what she meant by being Mexican.”

  “I’m not sure that I do, now that you mention it. There was no such place as Mexico until the recent revolution so I don’t know how she could be Mexican.”

  “It isn’t that complicated. The Indian people who lived in ancient Mexico City, before it was conquered, were called Mexicans,” she said.

  “Hmm.” Thomas was looking her over a little more carefully and was discovering that there was a very shapely woman hidden beneath the overalls.

  “Who did you want to see?” she asked, blushing under his scrutiny.