“I can see how that would explain why I’ve found no evidence but...”
Black Hoof began speaking before Yank finished.
“Catecahassa says that Governor Harrison knows the truth and that perhaps William Wells does too,” Marina translated. “He suggested that you trust no one except your family here.”
Yank nodded to Black Hoof. “Now I understand and I accept what you have told me as probably correct. Thank you, Catecahassa.”
“I can’t translate ‘probably correct’,” Marina complained. “The two words are in conflict.”
“I understand what your husband has said,” Black Hoof confirmed.
“While I have you here to translate, Marina,” Yank said. “Would you ask my brother about the many British muskets that Tecumseh’s band now carries?”
“These are not new,” Black Hoof answered in English without waiting for a translation. “They were supplied many years ago.”
“Perhaps some were,” Yank agreed.
Black Hoof said something to Marina.
“Your Shawnee brother says that all the weapons were given to Tecumseh twelve years ago during another war. But he cannot remember the name that was given to the war.”
“The Northwest Indian War,” Yank supplied, still speaking English. “But the flints, powder and shot from that war would have been used long ago and many parts of the muskets would have broken or worn out.”
Black Hoof looked thoughtful and spoke to Marina.
“Your brother Catecahassa says that he had not considered what you have mentioned and must think about it.”
Yank nodded. “I would also like to know what Tecumseh’s plan is. We have reports of Tenskwatawa traveling all the way to Florida, recruiting Creeks, Seminoles and others to his confederacy.”
Marina engaged in a long conversation with Black Hoof then turned to Yank. “If I have understood correctly, the purpose of this confederacy is to create a barrier to American westward expansion.”
Yank looked at Black Hoof for confirmation and the man nodded. “Please ask my brother who has joined Tecumseh so far?”
Marina asked Black Hoof and translated simultaneously when he answered. “Some Iroquois, Chickamauga, Fox, Miami, Mingo, Ojibwa, Ottawa, Kickapoo, Lenape, Mascoutah, Potawatomi, Sauk, and Wyandot in the north and many of the Creeks and Seminoles in the south.”
The color drained from Yank’s face. “That would extend his influence all across Canada and south as far as Florida. Are the Creeks and Seminoles armed with British weapons?”
“No,” Black Hoof replied. “Spanish. The British agents give the people letters that they take to Pensacola where the Spaniards give them weapons and powder.”
March 2, 1806
Indiana Territory
“I’ve found no evidence of the British arming or influencing any Indians,” Yank said. “That’s what my report says.”
Governor Harrison shrugged his shoulders. “Madison is an old maid. It was a waste of time sending you up here to gather proof of something that we already know to be a fact.”
“I think Secretary Madison simply wanted to give President Jefferson all the facts before he decides what to do.”
“Jefferson already has all the facts he needs. Oh, that reminds me.” He looked around his desk a moment. “A dispatch came for you from Washington.” He found an envelope. “Ah here it is.”
Yank took the envelope. “May I?”
“Of course, of course. Read it.”
Yank opened the letter, read it and shook his head. “I’m to proceed directly to the United States Military Academy at West Point, New York.”
“In what capacity?”
“Assistant Superintendent.”
“Does a promotion go with it?”
“It doesn’t say, but I doubt it. I think I’m being banished.” He looked at the letter again. “When did this arrive?”
“This morning.”
“I must have said something I shouldn’t have in my report.”
“You’re better off away from all those politicians. You’re a soldier.”
“Exactly. I’m a soldier, not a teacher.”
“You’re a soldier who can teach more soldiers. And we’re gonna need them when war with England finally breaks out.” Harrison stood up and offered his hand. “Have a safe trip, Yank. I’ll stop off at West Point and visit next time I go downriver.”
“Please do, Governor.” Yank shook his hand then hurried out to where Marina was waiting in the entry hall.
“What happened?” She asked.
“I should have listened to Black Hoof.” He took her arm and guided her toward the front door.
“Why? What did Governor Harrison say?”
“He dismissed my report as superfluous, saying that everyone already knows that the British are supplying the Indians.”
“And?”
“And he also gave me this.” He handed her the letter.
She read it as they walked down the steps then gave it back after they’d crossed the lawn. “Is this so bad?”
“For us, no. For the country, yes.”
“Why?”
“It means that some very powerful men want to see us at war with Britain and they want no one influencing the government otherwise.”
“You still have the opportunity to report what you’ve learned to Secretary Madison.”
“These orders say proceed directly to West Point.”
“And we shall,” she said. “Right after we visit your current duty station in Washington to collect our belongings.”
“We left nothing of value in Washington.”
“The War Department doesn’t know that.”
“Oh come now, Marina. I cannot simply walk into the office of the Secretary of State without an appointment.”
“But I can pay a social call on Mrs. Madison and I’m certain that she will invite us to her weekly soirée.”
“Suppose Madison won’t talk to me?”
“Then you have done your duty and we shall gather our children and proceed to West Point. But I think he will be glad to see you, as will President Jefferson.”
April 3, 1806
Washington, District of Columbia
Yank shook hands with Jefferson and Madison then made his way through the crowd toward Marina.
She saw him coming, excused herself from the group she had been chatting with and walked toward the door until he reached her. “Well?”
Yank moved her to an empty corner. “The President is aware of the forces that want a war with Britain and he is determined not to give in to them.”
“And Madison?”
Yank shrugged. “I think if he were president we would soon have a declaration of war. For a little man he is very fierce and the British practice of impressing our sailors has riled him. It could be Madison that wants me to shut up.”
“So Jefferson will do nothing?”
“He speaks of embargos, official protests, appeals to Parliament and legal matters. I do not see him as a man of action.”
“I always thought that Madison was the scholar.”
“What do I know?” Yank chuckled. “I’m a lowly lieutenant colonel who will soon become a teacher.”
July 4, 1806
West Point, New York
They were seated at the breakfast table. Marina was reading a newspaper and Yank was feeding Jack.
“Your friend, Andrew Jackson, killed a man in duel,” Marina said.
“When?” Yank asked.
“I’m not sure. Around the first of June.”
“Oh. I already knew about that. I thought he’d killed someone else.”
“Does he do that often?”
“He is not a man who suffers insults.”
She giggled. “Really?”
“Really. He’s been in… I’m not sure how many duels. One with the governor of Tennessee.”
“Did he kill him?”
“No.”
“But he’s killed o
thers? Before now?”
“Yes.”
“Who else has he killed?”
Yank wrinkled his brow. “There was a man named Charles Dickinson.”
“What was it about?”
“I don’t remember exactly. It began with a fistfight over a horse or horserace, I think.”
“Is he a bully?”
“Jackson? Oh no. Not at all. Dickinson, who was known to be a crack shot with a pistol, escalated the argument by publishing a very insulting piece in a newspaper. Jackson called him out, gave him the first shot, took a bullet in the chest and then calmly shot Dickenson in the groin.” Yank chuckled.
Marina scowled at him. “That’s not even remotely funny.”
Yank pulled a face. “No. I suppose it isn’t. Not even to Jackson. The bullet was too close to his heart to be removed and he still carries it to this day.” He chuckled again.
“You admire the man,” Marina accused.
“Yes, I do.”
“Dueling seems silly to me.”
“Sometimes it’s the only answer. You of all people should understand that.”
“That was different.” She looked back at the paper. “The man that Mr. Jackson just killed accused Mrs. Jackson of bigamy.”
Yank nodded but offered no response.
“That seems to be an easy charge to refute,” Marina said. “Why fight over it?”
“Well, technically Mrs. Jackson was a bigamist. Colonel Jackson and she were under the impression that her first husband had divorced her when they were married.” He decided to change the subject. “Is there anything in there about Pike’s expedition?”
“Who?”
“Lieutenant Zebulon Pike’s going to lead another cross country expedition to accomplish what we failed to.”
“Oh, that friend of yours. Now I remember.”
“He’s more a neighbor than a friend. My father and his father were friends. I think.”
“What kind of name is Zebulon?”
Yank shrugged. “His father’s name was Zebulon too.”
“We didn’t fail.”
“What?”
“You said that Zebulon Pike was going to do what we failed to do and I’m saying that we reached the Rockies, so we didn’t fail.”
“We were supposed to find Yellow Stone and we never got further north than Albuquerque. I’d call that a failure.”
She went back to the newspaper then a minute later rattled it noisily. “Here it is.”
“Here is what?”
“Pike. They leave from Fort Belle Fountaine on the fifteenth.”
“They should have left earlier. It will be snowing in the Rockies when they arrive.”
She looked at Yank. “Where’s that?”
“Where is what?”
“Fort Belle Fountaine. I’ve never heard of it.”
“Of course you have.”
“No I haven’t.”
“It’s near St. Louis, Missouri.”
“Oh. Maybe I have heard of it at that.”
“Does it mention us?”
“Does what mention us?”
“The story in the newspaper.”
“No. Should it?”
“No. I just thought it might.”
“So you want to be famous like your father?”
“No, but I should have liked to have led that expedition in Pike’s stead.”
She put down the paper. “Is it really so bad for you here?”
“No. Being here with you and the children is wonderful.”
“But you miss the excitement.” She walked to him and took the spoon out of his hand. “Go for your walk along the river, then come back and get us before the parade. I’ll get the boys ready.”
Book Two
July 4, 1811
West Point, New York
The United States Military Academy stands on a bluff overlooking the Hudson River at West Point, New York, about fifty miles north of Manhattan. Each year, on July 4th, the parade of the cadet corps, the speeches of the famous and the fireworks on the Hudson attract hundreds of visitors who come on ships, barges or in carriages.
As the bass drum boomed a cadence for the marching men, seven year old Jack Van Buskirk stood ramrod-stiff next to his father and saluted the passing flag. As the Stars and Stripes went by, his father dropped his salute and patted Jack on the back. “Well done, Son, well done,” he shouted over the passing brass band.
Jack beamed at the praise and turned to see if his mother had more to offer.
Marina was struggling with two year old Robert who was squirming to escape from her arms, while four year William tugged at her skirts wanting to be picked up, and five year old Anna wrestled in the dirt with her six year old brother, Thomas. “John, I could use some help please.”
Yank took Robert from her in one arm and scooped up William with the other. “Did you see how well Jack saluted the colors, Mother?”
“Yes. Very well done, Jack.” She bent down and pulled Anna off Thomas. “You two stop that. Look at you, Anna. Your dress is filthy.”
“He started it,” Anna whined.
“Did not.” Thomas got up and brushed himself off, then dodged as Anna took a swing at him.
“Colonel Van Buskirk?” An upperclassman, wearing a duty armband on his left sleeve, saluted.
Yank nodded. “What is it, Major?”
The young man held his salute and looked perplexed.
“I have my arms full of children and cannot return your salute, Major,” Yank said. “My nodding to you is sufficient acknowledgement under the circumstances. You may drop your hand salute.”
The boy snapped his hand down to the seam of his trousers and remained at ramrod stiff attention. “Governor Harrison sends his regards and asks if you might join him, sir.”
“Governor Harrison?” Yank looked surprised. “When did he arrive?”
“Last night sometime, sir. He’s below in the reviewing stands by the River, sir.” The cadet pointed, then came back to stiff attention.
Yank looked at Marina. “Should I invite him for dinner?”
Marina looked at the cadet. “Is he alone, Major?”
The boy’s eyes flicked to her and immediately back to front. He blushed. “Yes, Ma’am. He said that he was on his way to Washington to meet with President Madison.”
She looked back at her husband “Give me an hour. Nancy has the day off and the house is a wreck.”
“Tell the governor that I’ll be with him shortly,” Yank said to the young man.
“Yes, sir.” He saluted, then when Yank nodded in return, he dropped his salute, did a smart about face, and marched away.
“That kid’s going to be a general some day,” Yank said to Marina.
“You say that about all the students,” she replied.
“Not all.”
“Most.”
“Well most will indeed be generals. That’s what we’re building here. Generals.”
“Go see the governor and give me an hour before you bring him to the house.”
“Can I come with you, Father?” Jack asked.
“I need you to help me,” Marina said before Yank could agree.
“Oh Mother,” Jack whined. “It’s Independence Day.”
“Your independence is some years in the distance,” she said. “Take Robert and I will take William.” She gathered the children from Yank’s arms. “Now please, John. Remember that I need an hour.”
“Yes,” Yank agreed. “I will bring him to the front veranda and there we shall stay until you decide to appear and invite him in.”
“That won’t do. I have no one to serve him any refreshments.”
“It will have to do.” Yank rubbed baby drool off his uniform and then started down the hill toward the Hudson.
~
William Henry Harrison looked out across the river. “You seem to have settled in here, Yank. Everyone speaks very highly of you.”
Yank smiled. “It’s not as bad as I feare
d, Bill.”
They were seated on comfortable outdoor chairs in front of the old house above the Hudson that served as the Van Buskirks’ quarters.
“That sounds less than enthusiastic,” Harrison observed.
“As I told you on the day you handed me my orders, I’m a soldier, not a teacher.”
“Yes. I remember you saying that and I wondered if you still felt that way.”
“I do.”
“What would you say to a field command and brevet star?”
Yank looked at him with keen attention. “What brigade?”
“It’s not a formal brigade. Two hundred fifty regulars, about a hundred Kentucky militiamen, maybe five hundred from the Indiana Territorial Militia and whatever else I can cobble together quickly. I take it that you’re interested?”
“Can you give me some more details please?”
“Let me see.” He watched a ship as it began negotiating the chains. “Do you know John Gibson, our secretary of the Indiana Territory?”
“Yes, of course. He’s a fine man.”
“He is indeed. But he’s seventy-one years old.”
Yank nodded. “I read that he saved Vincennes from a massacre that had been planned by Tecumseh last year.”
“That’s accurate. But as I said, he’s seventy-one years old. I really need a younger man with military training, contacts with the Indians and the kind of diplomatic skills necessary to work with John without hurting his pride. You’re the only man I can think of with those qualifications.”
“So I wouldn’t actually be in command.”
“You would be in command reporting directly to the governor. That’s me when I’m there and John Gibson when I’m not.”
Yank tipped his head. “Reporting to a governor that holds a military commission is second in command.”
“That’s a narrow view.”
“How soon do you need a decision?”
“I’m not sure. Let me fill you in. When Tecumseh turned up at Grouseland last year with four hundred warriors in war paint, he insisted that the Fort Wayne treaty was illegitimate and demanded that I nullify it. When I rejected his demands, he warned me that any Americans that attempted to settle in any land that was sold under the treaty would be attacked and that he would seek an alliance with the British. After a brief pissing contest of who had the most firepower, he left. Since then he’s been receivin’ weapons and materials from Britain regularly.”
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