Winslow probed Yank’s ribs. “Does that hurt?”
“Not bad.”
Winslow looked at his sister who was standing behind Yank. “You better wrap him up again, Annabelle.”
“I thought you said I was recovered,” Yank complained.
“You recovered from the fever and seem to be completely recovered from the concussion, which was by far the worst of your injuries, and your clavicle has knitted cleanly. Another week or two and your ribs will be equally recovered.”
“Let me try going without the wrapping,” Yank suggested. “I’ll tell you if it hurts too much.”
“Stop whining,” Annabelle said.
Doctor Winslow laughed. “I’m going to the Martins to check on the baby. You two can argue all you like.”
“There’s no argument,” she said. “He’ll have his ribs wrapped or he gets no supper.” She picked up a bandage roll. “You know how this works, John. Put your hands up.”
He laced his fingers and put them on top of his head. “I seem destined to always be bullied by women.”
“Bullying is our lot in life,” she said. “Here, hold the end until I make the first wrap.”
He put his finger on the free end of the bandage. “How am I ever going to thank you?”
“By getting well and surviving this damned war.” She reached around him to pass the bandage roll from one hand to the other.
Impulsively, Yank kissed her on top of the head.
She looked up in surprise. “You should warn a girl before you do that.”
“I’m sorry. I don’t know why I did it.”
“Now don’t spoil it.” She pulled the bandage tight. “Hands up.”
He returned both hands to the top of his head. “My wife left me.”
“Have you divorced her?”
“No.”
“Do you intend to?”
“No one in my family has ever been divorced.”
“Then don’t go telling me that your wife left you.”
“I didn’t mean anything by it.”
“Of course you did. You’re attracted to me and you thought that if you said your wife left you might be able to get me into bed.”
His face turned crimson. “You may be too smart.”
“That’s what my husband always said.”
“And too outspoken.”
“He said that too.”
“What happened to him?”
“He was killed when the British boarded his ship looking for deserters. I’d rather not talk about it, if you don’t mind.”
“Sorry. I seem to be doing everything wrong today.”
“No. This is just a strange situation.”
“What is?”
“Us. Being thrown together like this. It puts a strain on our – morality.”
“You too?”
“Of course. I’m young, healthy, sexually experienced and deprived of an outlet.”
Yank felt his face turn red again.
She looked at him and giggled. “What? Didn’t your wife ever admit to having carnal desires?”
“Oh Lord.”
“I’m curious. Did she?”
“Yes. But to be perfectly honest I thought it was just her. I mean, she had an unusual upbringing, to say the least.” He felt that his face was burning.
“Somewhere back when this country was new, it became correct among the Puritans for women to pretend that they had no interest in physical love. That seems to have been perpetuated to the status of a myth among certain segments of New England society.” She pinned the end of his bandage and stepped back. “How’s that? Tight enough? Too tight?”
“Fine. Thank you.” He got off the examining table and took his shirt from the hook on the wall.
“Have I offended you?” she asked.
“No. But I find such subjects difficult to discuss with a woman.”
“That’s too bad. Being able to openly discuss physical love can add immeasurably to a marriage.”
“Perhaps, but we’re not really married.”
“Or to a love affair.”
To hide his embarrassment he looked out the window. “It seems a fine day. Might we take a walk?”
“Are you sure you feel well enough?”
“Other than a few minor aches and pains, I feel perfect.”
“Then a walk in the woods sounds perfect.”
“In the woods?”
She looked puzzled. “Yes. Does that trouble you?”
“Well, yes. I have no weapons to protect you. Do you think I might borrow a pistol from your brother?”
“There are no weapons in this house, John.”
He looked embarrassed. “Do you think it’s safe?”
“Yes. Frankly I think we’re safer without a weapon.”
“How so?”
“If we were to run into a British patrol they might be less inclined to accept us as a normal, peace-loving couple if you were armed to the teeth.”
“I suppose,” he said, uncertainly.
She took his hand. “I’ve been walking alone in the woods here since I arrived and I have yet to meet anyone, let alone a British patrol.”
They walked onto the porch, then down the steps and turned toward a path that led into the woods.
“Remember yesterday when you left your journal on the porch?” Annabelle asked.
“Yes.”
“I snooped,” she said.
“There are no military secrets in there,” he said with a chuckle.
“Why do you keep it?”
“Officers in the field are required to file daily reports so writing down what happened at every opportunity soon becomes a habit.”
“You draw very well.”
“Probably not but that too is part of being an officer.”
“What do you draw that has military importance?”
“Fortifications, terrain features, villages, faces of friends and enemies, poisonous and edible plants. Anything that might be useful in the future.” He smiled. “And sometimes I draw for the pleasure of it. I guess you saw the picture I drew of you.”
“You guess right.”
He raised an eyebrow. “I must have done a poor job.”
“No. I think it’s a perfect likeness.”
“Then why do you seem upset?”
“I also saw the portrait of your wife.”
“And?”
“And she’s beautiful.”
“Yes, she is.”
“And I’m a toad.”
He laughed. “The prettiest toad in the pond.”
She slapped him gently on the arm. “I’m being serious.”
He nodded. “I can see that.” He thought a moment. “Marina is like a jewel: Lustrous, shimmering and hard edged. You’re like a flower: Complex, fragrant and soft.”
She took his hand. “You’re the sweetest man.”
September 21, 1812
El Paso Del Norte, Province of Tejas
“I’ll see your five and raise you a hundred.” The man sitting across the poker table from Marina was American, well educated and well dressed.
“I don’t think you have the ace,” Marina said.
“It’ll cost you a hundred dollars to find out.”
“You know I don’t have it.”
“Yes, I do. But I think we could work something out,” he said slyly.
She looked at him for a few seconds then nodded. “Just a minute.” She took an envelope from her coat pocket, tore off a piece of paper and wrote “IOU one hundred dollars or the equivalent” on it with a stub of pencil and signed it, “Maria Gomez”. “Here you go.” She added the scrap of paper to the pot.
He laid out an ace high straight. “Sorry.”
Marina puffed out her cheeks. “Not my night.”
“It still might be,” he said. “The night is young.”
She pushed back her chair. “Well, I’m broke so let’s go upstairs and find out.”
He picked up the money and her I
OU, got up and pulled out her chair for her. “How about dinner first?”
She stood up. “You’re the winner, you make the rules.”
He got his hat from the rack then walked back to take her arm. “What’s your name?”
“It was on my IOU.”
“I didn’t read it.”
“Maria Gomez.”
“Henry Paulson. There’s a place not far from here that grills goat steaks. Ever eaten one?”
“Yes. It’s baby goat and it’s called cabrito.”
“Does that sound good to you?”
“You’re the winner, you make the rules.”
“Oh come on, does it have to be like that?”
“No. Not if you give me back my IOU.”
He fished in his pocket and came up with the note, read both sides and gave it to her. “Marina Cortés. I saw a wanted poster for Marina Cortés. Five hundred pesos, dead or alive. The likeness was bad, unless you look real close.”
She examined the back of the IOU and saw that the piece of envelope clearly showed her name. “What do we do now?”
He shrugged. “We eat grilled baby goat, unless you’ve changed your mind.”
She looked around nervously. “It was an accident.”
“I don’t care.”
She shrugged. “Then let’s go.”
He took her arm. “What are your plans?”
“After dinner? That depends on what kind of dinner partner you turn out to be.”
He chuckled. “No, I meant what are you planning to do to avoid being hanged.”
She looked up at him. “I’m open to suggestions.”
“You could work for me.”
“Doing what and where?”
“I own a saloon and gambling parlor in San Antonio.”
“San Antonio? That’s the middle of nowhere.”
“It’s also a long way from the Santa Fe hangman.”
“Your point is well taken.”
“Is that a yes?”
“That’s a yes.”
“Good. Now all I need is one more yes and my night will be complete.”
“Yes.”
October 7, 1812
Michigan Territory
James Winslow came out onto the porch. “Could you help me please, Annabelle?”
She and Yank had just walked down the steps. “Help you with what?”
“The accounts. I have them in an awful mess.”
“Can we do it later? John and I were just going for our walk.”
“I hate to ask,” he said to Yank. “But would you mind going alone today? I’m getting tight for money and I need to figure out who owes me what.”
“Not at all,” Yank replied. “And I’ll pay you everything I owe you as soon as I get back to civilization.”
“For now just let me borrow my sister.”
Yank raised his hand to Annabelle. “I’ll be thinking of you.”
She smiled and watched him as he followed the path toward the woods, then she turned to her brother. “What’s this about? I went over your accounts last night and you’re certainly not tight for money.”
“I wanted to talk to you alone but he’s always with you.”
She looked back toward the woods and then nodded. “I knew this was coming.”
“Then tell me what you think you’re doing? He’s a married man.”
“I’m very much aware of that, James. And so is he.”
“I think it’s time that he went back to the army, Annabelle.”
“It’s been six weeks since he was struck by a cannonball, James. That hardly constitutes malingering.”
“You know that’s not what I meant.”
October 8, 1812
San Antonio, Province of Tejas
“Well?” Paulson asked, as he helped Marina off the boat.
“Well what?”
“What do you think of San Antonio?”
“It’s just another village of mud buildings as far as I can tell.”
“No, it’s the farthest northeastern extension of the Valley of Mexico and the capital of the Spanish province of Tejas.” He pointed. “That’s my place right there.” He pointed to a saloon with a garish sign showing women in various stages of undress.
“Oh.”
“Oh? That’s all you have to say?”
She looked from the building back at him. “That’s the job you’re offering me?”
He looked puzzled. “Yes. Is there something wrong?”
“Yes there’s something very wrong. I’m not a whore.”
“Well you’re sure as hell no gambler and all I’ve got to offer is cards and whores.”
She shook her head. “I’m not going to be your whore.”
“I guess you weren’t listening when I said that San Antonio’s in the Spanish province of Tejas.”
She gave him an uncomprehending look.
“I have a wanted poster and an IOU that the Spanish governor would be interested in.” He pointed to a huge live oak tree in front of the Spanish mission. “That’s where they’ll hang you. It’s called El Alamo. You won’t be a pretty sight dangling from it. Your eyes will bug out, your tongue will turn black, your bowels will let go.”
Marina looked away from him. “You seem to have the ace again.”
He smiled.
She shook her head. “You really had me fooled. I honestly thought that I meant something to you.”
“You did. We had a lot of fun together. Now we’re going to make a lot of money together. Except you won’t share in the profits.”
October 9, 1812
Michigan Territory
They were about a mile from the Winslow house, in a glade that they often visited.
“I think I’d better try to find a way back to American controlled territory, Annabelle,” Yank said.
“Why?”
“Your brother seems to be about fed up with me.”
“He’s my brother, not my father.”
“It’s his home.”
“You needn’t be afraid of me, John. I understand how you feel about me and I also understand that we cannot possibly have any future together.”
“I wouldn’t say that it’s impossible…” He shook his head.
“You were going to say that your wife could die out there on the frontier.” She raised her hand to stop his protest. “Do you think I haven’t thought of it often?”
“No matter how angry I am at Marina I wouldn’t wish her dead.”
“Nor would I. But if…” She suddenly recoiled and then screamed as Indians appeared from all directions.
Yank stepped in front of her to shield her but the Indians were on them both and he went down immediately. Enraged, he kicked, punched and cursed until a tomahawk crashed against his skull.
~
Yank returned to consciousness slowly.
“Hello Yangee.”
Yank’s head was throbbing and he had difficulty focusing on the face before him but he knew the voice. “Hello Tecumseh.”
“I have been waiting for this day.”
“Have you?” Yank tested the rawhide binding his wrists.
“You have lost a lot of blood, Yangee. I think you will die soon.”
Yank looked at his shirt and pants and saw that they were soaked with blood. “You should build your fires quickly then, Tecumseh. There is no honor in burning a dead man.”
“If I had not promised the white father Brock that I would deliver you to Fort Detroit your skin would already be crisp and your blood would be boiling. But if you die on the trail it will be almost as good.”
“You better pray to your drunken brother Open Mouth that I die. Otherwise, I’ll be coming for you when the British parole me.”
“Was that your woman, Yangee? That pretty, soft, little woman with the yellow hair? My men have enjoyed her. Many times.”
Yank managed to kick the taunting face but the blow was partially deflected and Tecumseh retaliated immediately with a crushing blow from
his war club.
October 10, 1812
San Antonio, Province of Tejas
Marina sat naked on the side of the bed watching the vaquero who was hurriedly stripping off his clothes. “How about sharing your whiskey with me?” she asked.
He looked at her and shrugged. “Help yourself. It does not matter to me if you are drunk or sober.” He threw his boots in the corner.
She got up and walked toward him, picked up the bottle and crashed it over his head. Ten minutes later, dressed in the vaquero’s clothes and riding a stolen horse, Marina was headed east toward the dim light of dawn with the vague idea of reaching New Orleans.
A little past noon, when she reached the banks of the rain-swollen Guadalupe River, she turned south, following the river in search of a ford.
October 10, 1812
Fort Detroit, Michigan Territory
Yank, who was chained to a ring in a stone wall, raised his eyes as a British Major General came into the cell. “You must be Isaac Brock.”
“Soon to be Sir Isaac Brock, actually. I’m to be knighted for my action in taking this fort.”
“This fort? Where are we?”
“Fort Detroit.”
“I thought that you were at Fort George.”
“Indeed I was, but my staunch Shawnee ally refused to release you to anyone but me. I had intended to take you back with me immediately, however after seeing you I doubt that you could survive the journey.”
“I’m not that easy to kill.”
“Perhaps not, but my superior would be very cross if I did not see to your health as best I can. I have sent for a surgeon from the town.”
“Your superior being George Prévost?
“Indeed. He apparently views you as his friend. But then having been born in New Jersey, he does seem to have many American friends.”
“You sound bitter, General.”
“Oh no. Lord no. Not I. But it was a bit troubling to be held up after the victory here while the Baron negotiated an armistice with your General Henry Dearborn and your American forces regrouped. I now seem to have lost the initiative.”
Land of the Free Page 27
