“No, as it turns out,” Yank said with a grin, “I’ve been assigned as Military Liaison to Secretary of State Madison regarding the Louisiana Purchase.”
“Madison?” Nannette asked.
“Secretary of State, James Madison,” Yank clarified.
Tom scowled at Nannette. “Why does the honorific secretary throw you into such a dither?”
She ignored him and smiled at Yank. “James Madison was your father’s friend. They met during the Continental Congress and were in the Battle of Trenton together where James was badly wounded.”
“Madison was never in the war,” Tom contradicted.
“You’re wrong, Thomas; he was a platoon leader,” Nannette replied. “He nearly died from his wounds and never recovered sufficiently to return to active duty. John knew him well.”
“I know him too,” Tom protested. “Why does everything in Yank’s life have to relate to John?”
Nanette shrugged. “A boy should know about his father and mother.”
“You two are my father and mother,” Yank said to prevent Tom’s retort. He smiled at Nannette. “But I’m always glad to learn more of our family history.”
Tom looked toward the barn where the boy was unsaddling Yank’s horse. “That damn kid’s just gonna leave your saddle bags in the tack room. You go ahead. I’ll get your saddle bags and be in shortly.” He started for the barn.
Nannette watched Tom for a moment then began walking to the house. “He and your father did not always get along so very well. Thomas was the oldest and he did everything that your grandfather expected of him. John was rebellious and almost always went against your grandfather’s wishes. Thomas was the best student and the top of his class at Sandhurst. John was dismissed for striking an upper classman.” She sighed. “But everyone loved John and hardly noticed poor Thomas. John was born to be a soldier and – well, you see what I mean.”
Yank nodded. “Believe me I understand very well. Someone asks me almost every day if I am Colonel John Van Buskirk’s son; ‘tis hard to live up to a legend.”
She smiled. “Yes. I suppose that must be.”
Yank hesitated for a moment then asked, “Was he truly the heroic figure that he’s said to be?”
“Heroic? No.” She shook her head emphatically. “To do things that one fears is heroic. Your father was fearless. Courage came naturally to him. Your mother, however, was always afraid, as was Thomas. Anna and Thomas were the truly heroic figures in our family during the Revolution.”
“How about you? Were you afraid?”
“Me?” She laughed. “Perhaps a little, but like John, I was caught up in the excitement of it. At least in the beginning. By the end I was motivated by hate and the need for vengeance.” She shook her head to banish the bad memories. “Tell me about the Louisiana Purchase.” She climbed the steps to the front porch and sat down in one of the rocking chairs.
“Well let me see.” Yank sat down beside her. “A year ago in May, Robert Livingston, our Ambassador to France, bought it from Napoleon for fifteen million dollars.”
“Is that your Uncle Robert Livingston?”
“No. This Robert Livingston was a delegate from New York originally appointed to the Committee of Five to draft the Declaration of Independence. He was recalled by New York before it was finished. My uncle was a New Jersey delegate. They may be related but I don’t really know. The family has a propensity for reusing Christian names and the Livingstons are prolific.”
She nodded. “Go ahead. You were saying?”
“Well, the Louisiana Territory is vast. It stretches from the Gulf of Mexico in the south to Rupert’s Land in the north, and from the Mississippi River in the east to the Rocky Mountains in the west. Acquiring the territory doubled the size of the United States.”
“I read about it in the papers, of course, but was confused. I thought that land was all Spanish – part of New Spain.”
“It was ceded to France from Spain in the Treaty of San Ildefonso two or three weeks before we bought it, but the exact boundaries are a bit unclear.”
“Napoleon needs the money more than he needs an American Empire,” she chuckled.
“So it seems,” Yank agreed. “What are your thoughts about Napoleon?”
She looked toward the barn for a moment before answering. “To see my Queen brought so low and beheaded like a common criminal broke my heart.” She sighed. “But still, I have become an American and republican and so I had great hopes for the future of a democratic France after the Revolution.”
Yank nodded.
“Then comes forth this little mountebank of common birth, who seizes our new democracy and declares that France is once again, an empire. Next, he will be declaring himself Emperor. But enough of that.” She waved her hand to dismiss the subject. “So tell me now, what exactly is this liaison that you will undertake?”
“Have you heard of the Corps of Discovery?”
“The expedition, to survey the Louisiana Purchase? Yes, of course.” She wrinkled her brow. “Louis and – something?”
“Lewis, not Louis,” he replied with a grin. “Captain Meriwether Lewis and Lieutenant William Clark. They will be seeking to determine the boundaries of Rupert’s Land.”
She looked confused again. “I read that the expedition was tasked to find a Northwest Passage.”
“Yes,” he agreed. “Their popular task is indeed to try to find a navigable way to cross to the west coast. A more important task however, will be to establish the borders of Rupert’s Land. England has no clear idea.”
“Is there not another existing dispute over Rupert’s Land?”
He nodded. “Relating to the boundaries of the Michigan Territory.”
“So? You will go with them? Lewis and Clark?”
He shook his head. “I am to lead another, smaller expedition from New Orleans to ascertain the southwest boundaries between New Spain and the Louisiana Purchase and then join them somewhere in the Northwest.”
“When will you be departing?”
“A boat will pick me up at our dock in the morning and transport me to a frigate anchored off Sandy Hook.”
She raised her eyebrows. “A frigate bound for New Orleans?”
“The frigate is bound for Baltimore. I must receive my final orders from Secretary Madison in Washington.”
“And then?”
“Unless things have changed, I will travel from there to Nashville, then down the Mississippi to New Orleans.”
“Nashville?”
“Nashborough, Tennessee is now called Nashville.”
She looked confused. “Nashborough is a long way around to reach the Mississippi.”
“I have to stop off there to deliver some legal documents.” He thought a moment. “Do you know a judge named Jackson? I believe he was both a United States Congressman and Senator before being appointed to the Tennessee Supreme Court.”
“Andrew Jackson?”
“Yes. Do you know him?”
She nodded and looked into the distance. “From the war. He was a courier. Just thirteen years old when the British captured him and his brother.”
“You knew him well?”
“No. But we both carry scars from Tarleton’s Rangers. Andy’s are on his left hand and on his head. He refused to clean the boots of one of Tarleton’s officers. A major, who later…” She shook her head. “But, that is the past and I do not wish to remember it. How long will you be gone?”
He shook his head. “Two or three years, I would guess. As I said, my orders are to link up with the Lewis and Clark expedition and return with them. I cannot guess how long it will take them in the north.”
Tom had rejoined them and picked up the thread of the conversation. “Finding them would require extraordinary luck in such a vast area with no reliable maps.” He looked out toward the bay, remembering his own wanderings in the American frontier.
Yank nodded, choosing not to disagree. “May I board my horse with you while I’m gone?�
��
“Of course,” Tom replied.
“Will you not need a saddle horse on your trek?” Annette asked.
“I’m told that our party will be in readiness in New Orleans, awaiting my arrival,” Yank said.
“Ha,” Tom replied scornfully. “If you believe that I fear you will be sorely disappointed.”
“I’ve found that Secretary Madison is very thorough,” Yank offered.
“He may be,” Tom agreed. “However, I would advise you to be prepared to buy everything from your own purse. Our Government is big on talk and small on payment.”
“I’ve been assured that money is already on hand in the Banque de la Louisiane in New Orleans.”
“Ha,” Tom repeated.
“Enough of this,” Annette said, taking Yank’s hand. “You must be hungry.”
July 16, 1804
Washington, District of Columbia
Secretary of State James Madison was a small, bookish man who many underestimated. He was seated at a knee desk, writing and reading as he spoke. “I would suggest that you forgo your military uniform during the expedition, Colonel Van Buskirk. The Spanish are maintaining that Texas is part of the New Mexico territory and therefore not part of the Louisiana Purchase. They have made it clear that any military incursions therein will be treated as an act of war.”
“Yes, sir,” Yank replied.
Madison looked up from his desk. “It is quite possible that diplomatic ties between the United States and Spain will soon be broken. If so, and if you were to run afoul of the Spanish government, it would leave us no method of negotiation for your release.”
Yank nodded. “May I ask sir, which river should I consider as the western boundary of Louisiana? The Sabine or Rio Grande?”
“Spanish officials maintain that the Texas border is the Arroyo Hondo.”
Yank referred to the map that was spread across his knees. “I don’t see that river, sir.”
“It is a dry gulch west of Natchitoches,” Madison replied, peering over the edge of his desk at the map. “It may be called the Calcasieu.”
Yank nodded. “Ah, yes.” Yank tapped the spot. “So should I consider that to be accurate?”
Madison shook his head. “No. The French documentation describes the Rio Grande or the Neches. The Rio Grande is, of course, well mapped but we know almost nothing about the Neches.” He looked at Yank pointedly. “However, for the sake of diplomacy, and your mission, we shall officially use the Sabine. You’ll note that I said officially.”
“I quite understand, Mr. Secretary.”
“I hope so.”
Yank referred to the map. “Let me see. I am to officially follow the officially declared river north to the Red River so that we gain more knowledge of it without officially offending the Spanish.”
“Exactly.”
“And west to where, sir?”
“That, you must establish.”
Yank looked at the Secretary for a moment then back at the map. “I can estimate distance and look for land features to support some geographical references, but that could require moving the designated line.”
“Those lines mean nothing now, so whatever you decide will probably be satisfactory to the United States. Eventually we will probably have to fight someone to establish a lasting and legal boundary.”
“I quite agree, sir.”
“What we need, more than anything, is to learn what’s out there.”
“Are the Rocky Mountains to be my western boundary as I proceed north?”
“Yes. Unless you encounter Lewis and Clark before they reach the Pacific. In that case you are to proceed west with them.” He looked back at the papers on his desk. “I think that will be unlikely, however. You should probably cross their path as they are returning east.”
Yank nodded.
“You have the packet for Judge Jackson in Nashville?”
“Yes sir.” Yank rolled up the map carefully and put it in a tubular leather map case. “Is there any verbal message for the Judge?”
Madison looked up again. “No. But President Jefferson and I would consider it a personal favor if you would take some measure of the man.” He began paging through a book, looking for something.
Yank wanted to ask why, and what specific information about the judge was required, but Madison’s demeanor demonstrated clearly that the interview was at an end. “Thank you, Mr. Secretary. I am honored to be given this mission.”
“What’s that?” Madison looked surprised for a moment. “Oh yes. Of course. Good luck to you, Colonel Van Buskirk.”
“Thank you, sir.” Yank stood up and left the room with only a quick glance back at the little man behind the desk.
July 20, 1804
Nashville, Tennessee
Judge Andrew Jackson was not at all what Yank had expected. Tall, with wild white hair, a narrow face like a hawk and eyes to match, he was a formidable presence.
“So who’s organized this expedition?” Jackson asked.
“The State Department, sir,” Yank replied.
Jackson shook his head. “No. I mean who’s there in New Orleans, buyin’ supplies, hirin’ men and preparin’ for your journey?”
“A man by the name of Harvey Pique.”
“What do you know about him?”
“Beyond his name, I know nothing of him, sir.”
Jackson grinned. “You’ll surely find that the territories abound with scoundrels, Colonel. You may well arrive to find that this man has absconded with everythin’ and prepared nothin’.”
Yank nodded agreement. “My uncle is convinced that I will have to outfit the entire expedition with no help from our government.”
Jackson raised his eyebrows. “You don’t seem too troubled by that idea.”
“It isn’t a new idea, sir. It occurred to me when first I was told of the venture by Secretary Madison.”
“What’ll you do if that comes to pass?” Jackson chuckled.
“As my Uncle suggests, I will outfit the entire expedition with no help from our government,” Yank said with a grin.
“Do you have experience outfittin’ an expedition of this size?”
Yank gave him a puzzled look. “Organizing a small exploring party the size of an infantry company is much less difficult than preparing a brigade for maneuvers, Judge.”
“I suppose that is true,” Jackson agreed. “But what of this Harvey feller? If he’s absconded with taxpayer’s treasure, will you take action against him?”
“Indeed I will, sir. I will hunt the rogue down and turn him over to the authorities.”
“Just like that?”
“Well, I may have to kill him, but I shall give him every opportunity to surrender.”
Jackson laughed out loud. “I like your spirit, Colonel Van Buskirk.” He suddenly sat upright and snapped his fingers. “Van Buskirk. I knew that name sounded familiar. Whose son are you? Thomas or John?”
“My father was John Van Buskirk. I was reared by my Uncle Thomas and my Aunt Nannette. I think you may have known her too during the war. Her maiden name was Balletti.”
“Nannette Balletti,” Jackson said softly, his eyes going out of focus. “Yes. I remember her well. She and I share a common hatred for the English.” He absentmindedly touched the scar on the side of his head. “One Englishman in particular.”
“She keeps track of him, you know, even in England,” Yank said. “He’s a member of parliament and has gotten quite wealthy in slave trading.”
“Ban the Butcher, Tarleton,” Jackson said with an edge in his voice that chilled Yank. “I would dearly love to face him with swords, knives or pistols.”
Yank chuckled. “My aunt is less sporting. Her wish is to look into his eyes as he succumbs to a very long, slow and painful death.”
“She was fierce,” Jackson said with a smile. “She and your father kept Tarleton’s folks in terror. I was disappointed when they were called back north.”
“I heard you had some rec
ent Indian trouble,” Yank said to change the subject.
“Nothing serious,” Jackson replied. “A few Creeks stirred up some trouble a bit south of here. Y’all just had a fight up north, didn’t you?”
“Nothing much. I was involved in a little scrap with a Shawnee by the name of Tecumseh. He seems to have emerged as the new leader of the Confederacy.”
“Who was yer commanding general during that engagement?”
“General Wayne.”
Jackson smiled. “Mad Anthony Wayne. Didn’t your father serve with him?”
Yank shook his head. “Not that I know of.”
“You know you might have some real serious Indian trouble out west of the Mississippi,” Jackson said, after a moment.
“It is possible, sir.”
“If I was you, I’d buy me a couple o’ dozen Kentucky rifles before I headed out. They’re accurate to three hundred yards or more.”
“I’m quite familiar with the Baker rifle, sir.”
“Kentucky rifles are better. They have lugs for a standard bayonet, their pan’s better protected from harsh weather and their barrels don’t foul as easily.”
“Can you recommend a merchant?”
“I can, but it’d be best if I go with you to make sure you don’t get swindled.”
“Thank you, sir. I’d be very grateful.”
“Will you be travelin’ by land to New Orleans?”
“No, sir, by boat.”
“Good. Oh. While I’m thinkin’ on it. There’s somethin’ I’ve been curious about for a long time.”
“What’s that, sir?”
“Are you Van Buskirks kin to Daniel Boone?”
“No, sir. He’s a cousin of Daniel Morgan who is a very close friend of my family. But we’re not related. That is, I don’t think we are.”
“He died, not too long ago.”
“Daniel Boone?”
“No. Daniel Morgan.”
Yank nodded. “Two years ago. Almost to the day, in fact. I accompanied my mother to the funeral.”
“A great man.”
“Indeed he was, sir.”
“Well, we should go see about your rifles. You have a long trip ahead of you.”
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