Home of the Brave

by Jeffry Hepple

  “Jane?” Thomas called from the entry hall.

  “I’m in the kitchen,” she shouted, “and we have a guest.”

  Thomas came in the kitchen door. “Anna. What in the world are you doing here?”

  “I came to tell you that if you don’t marry Jane immediately, I’m going to borrow Father’s fowling gun and hunt you down.”

  “That won’t be necessary,” he said, producing a small, velvet covered box. “I sailed up to Brooklyn and bought this.” He opened the box, removed an engagement ring and held it toward Jane. “Will you marry me?”

  “Yes.” She offered her hand.

  Thomas slipped the ring onto her finger and bent to kiss her on the lips.

  “And,” Anna said, “I’m pregnant and moving in with Jane.”

  February 1, 1829

  Washington, District of Columbia

  Marina stopped at the entrance doors to allow a man carrying a trunk to come out, and then she smiled at the white-haired woman who was following him. “You must be Annabelle.”

  The woman laughed. “And you’re Marina. We meet at last.”

  “Can you have a cup of tea with me or do you need to go with your things?”

  “I’d love a cup of tea. Just let me tell the movers to go ahead without me.”

  “I’ll wait for you in the lobby.”

  Annabelle nodded then hurried to catch the man who was moving her things.

  Carlotta Ramirez was in the lobby, watching as Marina came in. “So is that the ‘other woman’?”

  Marina chuckled. “Yes. I’d never met her before today. I invited her for tea. Is the kitchen still in order?”

  “To make tea, yes; anything else, no. Your tenants were unhappy with losing the lease and they made rather a mess.” She led the way toward the dining room. “What’s your husband going to think about all this?”

  “Stop worrying about John. I can handle him.”

  “I don’t want you to have to handle him on my account.” She looked over her shoulder as the front door opened and Annabelle hurried to catch up with them.

  “Have you met Carlotta?” Marina asked Annabelle.

  “Yes.” Annabelle smiled. “She was telling me about her new business.”

  “When she told me that it involves whips and chains, I begged her not to tell me more,” Marina giggled.

  “I’m a bit concerned about the legality,” Annabelle replied. “Have you checked with a lawyer?” she asked Carlotta.

  Carlotta nodded. “There should be no problems, as long as we don’t create a public disturbance. I intend to put a guard on the door and to keep a low profile.”

  “What are you calling it?” Marina asked.

  “Doña Carlotta’s. I’ll just put a tasteful, little brass sign next to the door like the fancy hotels; nothing ostentatious.”

  Marina cocked her head, listening to the church bells. “Lord. I’ve lost track of the time. Forgive me but I must run or I’ll miss the boat.” She kissed Carlotta on the cheek and offered her hand to Annabelle. “Please come and visit us any time.”

  “Thank you,” Annabelle replied. “I might do that.”

  February 9, 1829

  Montauk Point, New York

  Marina ran the stallion flat out with her cheek against his neck until they drew abreast of the house then she stood up and gently slowed the horse to canter and finally walked him to the fence. “It’s like flying.” She laughed then slipped off the horse.

  Jane and Anna were sitting on the top rail of the fence. Jane hopped down to take the reins. “You ride very well. Better than anyone I’ve ever seen, except maybe Mr. Van Winkler.”

  Marina fixed her hair. “I used to tame wild horses in my former life.”

  “Really?” Anna said. “You never mentioned that.”

  “You’ve always been very put off when I talked about my past.”

  Anna shrugged. “I may have been too judgmental.”

  Marina gave her a shocked look. “Be careful. You almost admitted to having been wrong.”

  “Your face is all wind burned,” Jane said to Marina. “Why don’t you and Anna go to the house and warm up while I take care of this fellow?”

  Marina nodded. “Does he have a name?”

  “Yes,” Jane said. “But it’s Arabic and I can’t read it.”

  Marina patted the big horse’s neck. “He’s certainly a beauty. Too bad you can’t take him to Texas with you to cross-breed with the wild mustangs.”

  “He’d die on the trip,” Jane replied.

  “The British take their warhorses from England to India on ships,” Marina said. “Talk to my husband about it. Or, better yet, to Abraham. Abraham knows more about horses than horses know about themselves.”

  Jane nodded.

  “Come along, Mother,” Anna insisted. “It’s cold out here.” She took Marina’s hand and pulled her toward the house.

  “I like that girl,” Marina said.

  “Me too.”

  “You?” Marina laughed. “You hate everyone.”

  “That’s not true. It’s me that I hate, so I make everybody else miserable.”

  Marina gave her a strange look. “What’s come over you?”

  “Nothing. I’ll be back to my usual bitchy self before you know it.”

  “Then let me savor every moment.”

  “Mother?”

  “Yes?”

  “I’d like to stay here for a while.”

  “That’s fine with me, but I’m warning you that people will talk.”

  “About what?”

  “They’ll say that Paul has a new child mistress and tell filthy stories about you, Jane and Paul in a ménage à trois.”

  “In a what?”

  “It’s French meaning household of three. The implication being, three people having sexual relations and occupying the same household.”

  Anna wrinkled her nose. “They have a term for that?”

  “Yes. And my point is that you’ll become the target of those kinds of remarks.”

  “I don’t care, if you don’t.”

  “When did you think you’d move?”

  “Right away.”

  “Don’t forget that you’ll be alone with Paul when Thomas and Jane are on their honeymoon.”

  “Do you think he’ll seduce me, Mother?” Anna giggled.

  “No, Dear. I just wanted to be sure that you’d thought of it.”

  February 15, 1829

  Montauk Point, New York

  Paul Van Winkler was sitting in an overstuffed chair in front of the fireplace with an open book in his hands, but his gaze was on the fire and not the book.

  “You’re really going to miss Jane, aren’t you,” Anna said, as she came into the room.

  “Yes,” he said. “I miss her now and I know she’ll be back in a week. I can’t imagine how it will feel when she’s in Texas.”

  Anna held her hands toward the fire. “Why haven’t you ever told her that you’re her father?”

  He jumped as if he’d been stabbed. “What?”

  “You have the same eyes, and the same smile.”

  “You’re wrong.”

  “Okay.”

  “That’s an annoying habit, Anna.”

  “What is?”

  “Saying OK all the time.”

  “Why don’t you come to Texas with us?” she asked, ignoring the comment.

  “What?”

  “It makes perfect sense,” she replied. “Thomas knows almost nothing about ranching and you manage the biggest ranch in the United States.”

  “It’s the oldest, not the biggest, and I’m too old for an adventure like that.”

  “You’re no older than my father and he goes all over, killing people merrily wherever he goes.”

  “It wouldn’t work.”

  “Why not?”

  “I’d rather not discuss it.”

  “You’re a very difficult man to converse with. I open a topic and you close it.”

&
nbsp; “It may have something to do with your topic selection.”

  She looked around the room. “Of course you can’t take all these books.”

  “I can’t take them where?”

  “To Texas. But my Uncle Thomas has an empty barn where you can store them until we have a ranch house.”

  He thought for a moment. “Well, I might go to Texas at that. But not this year, maybe next year. If I had someone to go with me.”

  “Oh no you don’t. I’m going with Thomas and Jane this spring, not next spring.”

  “It’s very dangerous for a woman in your condition.”

  “My mother made almost the same trip when she was carrying Jack.”

  “By next year they’ll have steamboats that could take us from New York harbor to the Rio Grande in less than a month and your baby will be up to the trip by that time.”

  “You just want me as your replacement housekeeper for a year.”

  “I can’t fool you, can I?”

  “If they go and I stay alone with you, people will talk.”

  “They already talk. They always talk.”

  “I suppose that’s true. Let me think about it until the honeymooners get back.”

  “Can you cook?”

  “No. And I don’t clean either. But I have money so I’ll hire some Montauks to do it for us.”

  “That’s the pioneer spirit.”

  “If you don’t tell her I will.”

  “What?”

  “Jane should know her father.”

  “That’s none of your business.”

  “You’re right. But I’m still going to tell her if you don’t.”

  He glowered at her.

  “You really have no choice.”

  “I could murder you.”

  “Probably, but I doubt you will.”

  “Listen to me. Jane thinks her father was a great man.”

  “She thinks nothing of the kind.”

  “Her mother told her that Alexander Hamilton was her father.”

  “I know. And Jane doesn’t believe it.”

  “She might say that she doesn’t, but it gives her a sense of pride.”

  “She’d be far prouder if she knew you are her father. She loves you like a father already.”

  He shook his head.

  “Okay.” Anna gave him a shrug. “If that’s what you want, I’ll tell her then.”

  March 1, 1829

  Montauk Point, New York

  “No, Jane,” Thomas insisted. “We’ll take no furniture or fancy china. We’ll take only weapons, ammunition, tools and the most basic essentials for cooking and housekeeping.”

  “I should hope that I can bring my clothes,” she pouted.

  “I should rather you rode bare like Lady Godiva.”

  “So the whole world can see me undressed?”

  “I’m told that the Indians in the far west wear no clothing.”

  She started to answer but stopped as Mr. Van Winkler knocked on the doorjamb.

  “Do you have a moment, Jane?” he asked.

  “Of course, sir.” She stood up.

  “Do you need me to step outside, sir?” Thomas asked.

  Van Winkler considered and then shook his head. “This will take but a moment.” He faced Jane, took a deep breath and said, “I am your father. I have always believed it best for you to think otherwise. Anna disagrees and has threatened to tell you if I do not.” He turned and walked back out of the room.

  After staring after Van Winkler with his mouth hanging open, Thomas overcame his stupefaction and turned toward his wife. She was sitting on the floor with a blank expression on her face. “Are you okay?”

  “Yes.” She giggled then wiped a tear from her cheek. “I’m fine.”

  “Had you any idea?”

  “It had occurred to me. I was reasonably sure my mother lied about Alexander Hamilton.”

  “You should go after him.”

  She got up. “Yes.” She laughed. “What do I call him?”

  March 3, 1829

  Alexandria, Virginia

  Yank took Marina’s hand and helped her down the gangplank to the dock.

  “General Van Buskirk?” a liveried footman asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Your carriage is just over here.” He pointed, then signaled the porters who were wheeling the Van Buskirk’s trunks down the stern gangway.

  “This is a beautiful place,” Marina said. “They should have put the District of Columbia here instead of on the other bank.”

  “I think the land on the other side was quite a bit cheaper,” Yank replied.

  She pointed across the Potomac toward the Capital. “Look at all the people over there already.”

  “Coffee said that they’re anticipating as many as twenty thousand for the inaugural ceremony tomorrow.” He helped her into the carriage and climbed up after her.

  “Is he here?”

  “Who?”

  “John Coffee?”

  “Yes. He and his wife are both here. It was Coffee that suggested we stay on this side of the river rather than in Washington.”

  “I suppose that means all the Tennessee ruffians will be staying at the same hotel as we will.”

  “Yes. I think we ruffians have the entire place rented. Speaking of Tennessee ruffians, do you remember me writing to you about Private Davy Crockett?”

  “Yes. And I remember meeting Lieutenant Colonel Crockett and his wife, Elizabeth in 1818 as well.”

  “Oh that’s right. I forgot about that. Well, what I was going to say is that he’s Congressman Crockett now.”

  “Yes I know, John. I read the papers too.” Marina peered from the carriage window. “How far is it to the hotel?”

  “Not far, but it isn’t exactly a hotel; it’s Gadsby’s Tavern,” Yank said. “Gadsby’s is where George Washington hosted all the important events. They rent out the rooms upstairs to travelers.”

  “A tavern? Oh no. Don’t let me get drunk.”

  “How am I supposed to stop you?”

  “Never mind, I just won’t drink.”

  “You always say that.”

  “This time I mean it.”

  Yank looked out through the side window for a moment. “What do you make of Anna staying at Paul Van Winkler’s on Long Island after Thomas and Jane leave?”

  “I’m almost positive that she’s pregnant. Paul must be letting her hide there until after the baby is born.”

  Yank looked at Marina for a moment then looked out the window again. “I promise to keep you from getting drunk if you promise to keep me from killing Senator James Carver.”

  “Senator Carver is an Anti-Jacksonian so I seriously doubt that we’ll see him at any of the inaugural festivities.”

  Yank nodded. “We’ll have to hope so.”

  “But remember that Washington is a very small town and if you and Annabelle saw Anna kiss Carver on a public street, I’m quite certain that the affair is well known. It may even be known that she’s carrying his child.”

  “Your point being that someone may say something snide and I’m not to cut them down with my dull but shiny dress sword.”

  “Just note their names and we’ll deal with them later, after we’ve destroyed Senator Carver’s career.”

  Yank chuckled. “You’re beginning to sound like my grandmother.”

  “She used to say that there was no point in having power if you didn’t wield it occasionally.”

  “I thought she said that about women exposing their cleavage.”

  “That was Dolley Madison.”

  “At what point do we confront Anna?” he asked.

  “We don’t. We wait for her to tell us.”

  “Thomas must know.”

  “Yes, he must.”

  “I would have thought he’d be more loyal that that.”

  “More loyal to us than to his sister, you mean?”

  “Stop it, Marina. You’ve had more time to think about this than I have. I think yo
u’ll agree that I’m taking it rather well.”

  She kissed him. “You’re a tower of strength.”

  March 4, 1829

  Washington, District of Columbia

  The inauguration was held on the East Portico of the Capitol Building and open to the public. In all previous administrations, it had been held indoors by invitation only. By 10:00 AM, the entire park in front of the Capitol was packed with people and the overworked Capitol Police enlisted the help of the Virginia Militia to manage the crowds. The Militia borrowed a ship’s hawser and cargo nets from the Navy and used them to block the stairs at the East Portico while the police pushed the crowds back.

  Because of the people jamming the streets, Yank and Marina had been forced to abandon their carriage some distance from the Capitol Building, and walk the rest of the way. When they at last reached the Capitol and were able to find someone to whom they could present their invitations, they were quickly whisked to a basement door on the west side and ushered through the rotunda to take their position on the steps with perhaps a hundred dignitaries and special guests.

  The sound of shouts, cheers, whistles and applause from the energized multitude on the lawn was nearly deafening. “Nobody will hear a word of his speech,” Marina shouted nervously into Yank’s ear.

  He nodded rather than trying to reply, then nodded again as John Coffee caught his eye and saluted with two fingers.

  Several very long minutes passed and then suddenly, as the doors from the Rotunda were opened wide by two soldiers in dress blues, the sound of the crowd doubled. Marina cringed, moved closer to Yank and took his hand.

  The Justices of the Supreme Court came first, then Andrew Jackson, tall and dignified, appeared between the columns of the portico and proceeded to the podium where he bowed formally to the assembled audience.

  The response from his adoring masses was an extraordinary roar that could have drowned the sound of an avalanche. Marina trembled and Yank squeezed her hand to reassure her, but he didn’t look at her. Then a few seconds later, he furtively wiped a tear from his cheek with his free hand.