Land of the Free

by Jeffry Hepple

“Bah. Let’s get moving.”

  “How do we get down? They’ve taken all the ladders.”

  “We’ll pull up the ladder from our quarters. Come and help me.”

  “I cannot until I relieve myself.”

  “Then do it,” he snapped.

  “Here?”

  “Marina.”

  “Very well. But I cannot simply raise my skirt and aim over the parapet as you can.”

  “Marina,” he repeated in frustration. “It is only a matter of time before one of our men tells the Spaniards that we’re here. When that happens, the soldiers will come back.”

  “Why would anyone tell them?”

  “The Spaniards are known worldwide as experts in torture.”

  “Why would they torture our men?”

  “Marina,” he bellowed.

  “All right,” she complained. “Shouting seems a bad idea with an enemy nearby.”

  ~

  Marina was shaking the branches of a conifer, causing small nuts to rain from the cones among the branches onto the snow.

  “What are these?” Yank asked as he began to gather them.

  “Pinions.” She popped one in her mouth, cracked it and spit out the shell.

  Yank tried but ended up with a mouthful of shell.

  “Until you master it, crack the shell with your teeth and pull it apart with your fingernails.” She took off her gloves, opened one and gave him the meat of the nut.

  “Umm. Those are good but there’s not much to them.”

  “They’re plentiful and nutritious. We could live all winter on nothing else, if necessary. That little stream will have crawfish in it. They’re delicious boiled.”

  He glanced back over his shoulder. “We need to keep moving.”

  “Why?”

  “To catch the Spanish soldiers,” he replied in surprise.

  “What’s the hurry? I told you where they’re going.”

  “They’re Spaniards,” he argued. “They’ll torture and kill our men – our friends.”

  “I’ve been thinking about that,” she said. “Perhaps the officers in Albuquerque would, but I believe the detachment that captured them will keep them alive and treat them reasonably well.”

  “Exactly how did you arrive at that conclusion?”

  “It should be logical to a military man that a patrol would be under orders to deliver prisoners to the garrison.”

  “So what are you suggesting?”

  “Nothing. I’m simply pointing out that we needn’t hurry to catch the Spanish soldiers.”

  “I disagree.” He looked up at the brilliant blue sky. “The sooner we catch them the better.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I have no confidence in your theory and I expect that the Spaniards will in fact torture them.”

  “So you and I alone will rescue them?”

  “Yes.”

  “How do you propose to do that?”

  “I’m open to suggestions.”

  “I suggest that you shoot me and then yourself and get it over with.”

  He glowered at her.

  “The idea of you and I attacking a Spanish stockade is suicidal. Why can’t you face the reality of it?”

  “Those are my men,” he replied. “I cannot abandon them.”

  She looked at the ridge to their west. “How much money do you have?”

  “I’m not sure. Why?”

  “Guess.”

  “A hundred dollars?”

  “Gold and silver only. Paper money is useless.”

  “Fifty or sixty dollars.”

  “Not enough.”

  “What are you thinking?”

  “There’s a trading post at the mouth of the canyon that sells guns and ammunition.”

  “So what? We can’t get there until the spring thaw.”

  “Our whole party with weapons and provisions couldn’t, but you and I can easily climb over this ridge and then follow a stream bed down to the trading post.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes. All we’d need is a day or two of good weather like this. But guns are expensive out here and sixty dollars won’t even buy a musket.”

  “How far is it from the trading post to Albuquerque?”

  “Ten or fifteen miles. Why?”

  “I might be able to cash a draft there.”

  “This is not New York or even New Orleans, John.”

  “They have stores and other businesses in Albuquerque, don’t they?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then they’ll have a bank too.”

  “It would take a month or more for your draft to clear.”

  “When will the pass be open?”

  She shrugged. “The snow pack is fairly deep. Mid-March, I’d guess. Maybe sooner, maybe later. It all depends on how much snow falls between now and then.”

  “It’s mid-December now. If it took two months for the draft to clear we’d still have the cash well before the pass is open.”

  “So you admit that trying to rescue our people now is reckless and foolish?”

  “What do you want from me, Marina?”

  “I have to think about that.”

  December 19, 1804

  Albuquerque, New Mexico Territory

  Yank and Marina had bought the very best clothes that the trading post had to offer, resulting in Yank looking like a riverboat gambler and Marina looking like a floozy. Inspired by their appearances they had slipped into Albuquerque at night then waited for the barge from El Paso del Norte to arrive so they could blend with the passengers and ride the horse-drawn trolley from the riverbank to the town.

  Albuquerque was larger and more modern than Yank had expected. The village was built around a central plaza which was dominated by the San Felipe de Neri Church on the southwest corner. The first trolley stop was in front of the church to allow the travelers the opportunity to offer thanks for their safe journey. Yank helped Marina down, then took her hand and crossed the street to the plaza. “Are you sure you’re up to this?”

  She laughed. “All I have to do is be myself. You’re the one who has to play a role.”

  He bent down to examine one of the many candles covered with small paper lampshades that outlined the plaza. “What are these things?”

  “They are called luminarias or farolitos.”

  “Do they have a purpose?”

  “No, but they have religious significance at Christmas time.”

  “Ah.” He stood up and smiled. “Christmas. I had forgotten. Perhaps we can use that. Tell me more about these candles.”

  “There isn’t that much to tell. They are believed to light the path for the Christ child and a farolito is carried by the leader of the Posada procession.”

  “The what procession?”

  “The procession of Las Posadas. It’s a holiday celebrated for nine days before Christmas.”

  “What does it mean? Las Posadas?”

  “It means the inns.”

  “Inns as in hotels?”

  She laughed. “Yes. The procession of Las Posadas is a reenactment of Mary and Joseph searching for a place where Jesus might be born.”

  “Well that’s very appropriate, considering the fact that we need a place to stay.”

  “It’s even more appropriate than you could possibly imagine.”

  He started to answer but stopped, gaping. “Are you saying that…”

  “Yes.”

  “When?”

  “Late May or early June, I think.”

  He grinned then kissed her on the mouth.

  She blushed and looked around to see if anyone was looking.

  “Don’t worry about that,” Yank laughed. “I’m a Virginia gambler and you’re an unfortunate woman with whom I keep company. We’re expected to behave badly.”

  “Not in the Zócalo in front of the church.” She took his arm and guided him toward a hotel on the other side of the plaza. “As soon as I can bathe and get you into a real bed, I’ll show you what
bad behavior is.”

  “I think I still have enough gold to accomplish that.”

  “How do we explain the fact that we have no luggage?”

  “It was left in El Paso del Norte by mistake.”

  “And what do we do for money until the draft clears?”

  “You picked a fine time to start worrying.”

  “I’ve had other things to worry about until now. Do you have an answer to my question?”

  “I do indeed. We’ll play poker and win enough to live on until the draft clears.”

  “You may be dressed as a gambler but that won’t turn you into a poker player,” she giggled.

  “No, but you already are one.”

  “Me? How do we explain my playing and you watching?”

  “I never play in small games and I won’t have enough money to play in big games until my draft clears.”

  “What if I win a lot of money?”

  “Win enough and we won’t have to wait for the draft to clear.”

  “What if I lose all our money?”

  “Don’t.”

  December 20, 1804

  Albuquerque, New Mexico Territory

  Yank walked into the bank lobby and approached a barred teller cage. “Do you speak English?”

  “But of course, sir” the clerk replied in Spanish accented English.

  “Good.” Yank passed the bank draft that he’d prepared and endorsed under the bars. “I would like to cash that.”

  The man read the draft then examined Yank and Marina for a moment. “Do you have some proof that you are entitled to this money, sir?”

  “What?” Yank spluttered. “The draft’s made out to cash.”

  “When handling a large sum, such as this, the bank must know with whom it is doing business, sir. Perhaps you could have your bank write to us.”

  “See here,” Yank said angrily. “I won that money fair and square from this fellow Van Buskirk and I know the draft is good.”

  “Wait.” Marina stepped closer to the cage. “Your commission will be one hundred dollars in gold when we receive the proceeds of that draft,” she whispered in Spanish.

  “You will be staying at the hotel, I presume?” the clerk asked Yank in English, as if Marina hadn’t spoken.

  “Yes, yes we will,” Yank said. “How long will it take to clear?”

  “From four to six weeks this time of year. It depends on the weather between here and New Orleans, of course.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Not at all, sir. It is a pleasure doing business with you. Merry Christmas to you.” His smile broadened. “And to you, Madam.”

  “Merry Christmas.” She waved her hand gaily and took Yank’s arm.

  “How did you know he’d take a bribe?”

  “The same way he knew that we’d pay him to cash the draft.” She smiled coquettishly at a man on horseback who tipped his hat.

  “Shameless hussy,” Yank grumbled. “You’re going to get me into a duel.”

  “Take me back to the hotel and I’ll show you I can be as shameless as I can be bad.”

  “Not yet, my dear. You see, the hotel manager will be expecting payment for another day. You need to win that for us.”

  “You only paid for one night?”

  “You needed some cash to play poker with, didn’t you?”

  “Ah yes. You think of everything.”

  “Not everything.” He pointed across the plaza at a saloon. “It seems that the only place where a stranger can play poker is that rather rough establishment. I’m told that it is owned by an American woman called Tess and that it caters to English speaking riffraff, like us. Do you still want to do this?”

  “I’ve got a pepperbox in my garter and a four inch hatpin in my hair.”

  “Please promise to avoid killing anyone unless it’s absolutely necessary.”

  “I should ask you to make me the same promise.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Here we go again.”

  She looked up at him. “I know, I know. This isn’t the time or place to discuss it.”

  They reached the wooden sidewalk and Yank moved ahead of Marina to open the door of the saloon and hold it for her. However, as he followed her in, a huge man with a badge on his shirt blocked his way. “Merry Christmas,” Yank said, looking up at the man.

  “We been told that you’re a professional gambler,” the man said without preamble.

  Yank nodded. “Quite true.”

  “We don’t allow no professional gamblers in here.”

  “Does that mean that I’m prohibited from drinking here or only that I’m prohibited from gambling here?”

  The man looked uncertainly toward the bar.

  “You can’t gamble in here,” a woman behind the bar said, “but you’re welcome to drink, if that’s your pleasure.”

  “Can my wife play cards?” Yank asked.

  The woman looked at Marina.

  “I’ll just sit at the bar,” Yank added. “She’s not a professional gambler but we’re hoping she can win enough to keep us until my bank draft is honored.”

  “She can play,” the woman said. “But I’ll be watchin’ her.”

  “Very good.” Yank walked to the bar and sat down.

  “What can I get ya?”

  “Do you by chance have any tea?”

  The woman laughed. “I have a pot that I brew for myself. I suppose I could share it.”

  “That would be very kind.” He watched the woman slip through a curtain then turned to see Marina shuffling the deck. He noticed with satisfaction that she looked competent without looking like a professional.

  “I forgot to ask if you wanted milk in your tea,” the woman behind the bar said. She was holding a teacup in a saucer. The tea had milk in it.

  “However you have it there is perfect,” he said, plopping a silver half-dollar on the bar. “I’m surprised that so many people here speak English.”

  She set the tea in front of him. “Most everybody speaks both Spanish and English,” she said without any explanation. “You say that woman’s your wife?”

  “I do indeed.”

  “How come I don’t believe you?”

  “It may be that your life experiences have made you overly suspicious.”

  “You could be right or it could be that my life experiences have made me real good at spottin’ a liar.” The woman watched the poker game for a minute. “She’s got good hands.”

  “You can see her cards from here?”

  “No. I mean she handles the cards well.”

  “I assure you that…”

  “Save it. I can tell from the way she plays that she’s a house player. She’s real deliberate and makes sure everybody can see that she ain’t cheatin’.” The woman looked at Yank. “A sportin’ woman, is she?”

  “Not any more,” Yank said. “We really do need the money. I was telling the truth about that. Marina won’t take more than we need for the hotel bill and our daily expenses.”

  “Split the winnings with me and we have a deal.”

  “Were you planning to cover her losses?”

  She laughed. “You got a lot o’ nerve.”

  “So I’ve been told. If you’re not willing to share the risk, I’ll give you ten percent.”

  “Fifteen.”

  “Done.”

  She grinned. “Where are you from?”

  “New York. You?”

  “Gallatin, Tennessee.”

  “Gallatin? Really? Do you know a man named Andrew Jackson? He once owned a store in Gallatin.”

  “Of course I do. Do you know Andy?”

  “Yes I do. As a matter of fact, I saw him in Nashville quite recently. He’s a Tennessee Supreme Court judge, you know.”

  “I do know. He’s also the commander of the Tennessee Militia.”

  “Now that, I didn’t know. Odd that the Secretary didn’t mention that.”

  “Which secretary?”

  “Madison at State.”

&nbs
p; “I don’t believe Colonel Jackson and President Jefferson get along too well.”

  “There’s something else I didn’t know,” Yank said.

  “You surely know about the election.”

  “I’m not sure. What election do you mean?”

  “1800.”

  “Oh. You mean when Aaron Burr tried to steal the presidency from Thomas Jefferson.”

  “I wouldn’t put it that-a-way. They tied in the Electoral College.”

  “Yes, but Burr was running as Jefferson’s vice president, not for president.”

  “The Constitution didn’t make no distinction between the two.”

  “I know, but it was a mistake in the Constitution that was addressed in the Twelfth Amendment. The amendment was ratified in June, by the way, in case you hadn’t heard.”

  “There wouldn’t have never been no such amendment if Alexander Hamilton hadn’t of slandered Aaron Burr the way he done.”

  “Oh. I wager you haven’t heard that Burr shot Hamilton dead in a duel.”

  “Good.”

  “Now, you should hear the facts before you make a statement like that. I was there, and…”

  She raised her hand. “We ain’t gonna agree.”

  Yank nodded. “Perhaps.” He took a breath. “So tell me please, how does Judge Jackson figure in that mess?”

  “Well, he backed Burr in the House of Representatives, ya see, and Jefferson’s crowd ain’t never gonna forgive him. Did you know it took thirty-six ballots to finally break the tie in the House?”

  Yank nodded and then decided to detour around the subject. “I can’t get over the idea that I just bumped into a friend of Andrew Jackson’s all the way out here in Albuquerque.”

  “Small world, ain’t it?”

  “Indeed it is.”

  “And you ain’t really a gambler, are you?”

  Yank hesitated. “Why would you say that?”

  “I can’t figure James Madison usin’ no gambler to carry a message to Andrew Jackson.”

  “I never mentioned a message.”

  “I ain’t as dumb as I look.”

  Yank sighed. “It wasn’t very smart of me to mention Secretary Madison, was it?”

  “Depends on who yer hidin’ from.”

  “Let’s just say that if the Spaniards found out who I really am they’d hang me from the nearest tree.”