Antebellum BK 1

by Jeffry S. Hepple

  “That’s me. Livin’ the easy life in the Big Easy with a hot-blooded Meskin beauty.” He patted her on the bottom.

  “If I had my life to live over again…” She shook her head. “I know. Make the most of what I have.”

  “Yup.” He waved at another pretty girl who blew him a kiss. “Do you reckon all these Fat Tuesday folks is gonna be lined up at church tomorrow fer Ash Wednesday?”

  “I’m sure very few of them are even Catholic. They’re only here for the party.”

  “Did I ever tell you that I was brung up Catholic?”

  “Yes. You told me a long time ago when I mentioned that I was educated by nuns.”

  “Oh, that’s right.” He nodded. “You ever have the yen to get yer sins washed away, Marina?”

  She shook her head. “No, but it you ever want to go to Mass, I’ll go with you. I won’t confess or take the Eucharist, but I’ll keep you company.”

  “Me? No, not me.” He shook his head. “Too many sins. Seems kinda hypocritical to ask God to forgive ‘em, ‘specially since I plumb enjoyed committin’ most of ‘em.”

  “Then why did you mention it?”

  “Guess I’d like for you to be in heaven while I’m roastin’ in hell.”

  She took his hand in hers. “I don’t ever want to be anywhere where you’re not, Josiah.”

  He squeezed her hand. “Maybe I should go t’ Mass and thank God for you, Marina. You’re surely a miracle.”

  May 19, 1854

  New Orleans, Louisiana

  Josiah looked up as Marina came into the hotel room. “I was gettin’ plumb worried about you. You didn’t tell me you was goin’ out.”

  Marina sat down across from him but didn’t reply.

  “I won near five hundred dollars at the horse races. I believe I could support us with my weekly winnin’s, if we needed the money.”

  She nodded.

  “Are you gonna tell me what’s wrong, or do I gotta guess?”

  “How do you feel?”

  “Okay. Why?”

  “Yesterday you said you had a cold.”

  “So? It ain’t nothin’. I’ve had many a worse ’ne than this ’ne.”

  “Do you have a fever?”

  “If I do, it ain’t much. Why are you askin’ all these questions?”

  “Any backache?”

  “Marina!”

  “There’s a yellow fever outbreak. I just came from the hospital. It looks like it’s going to be an epidemic.”

  “Well, shit. If that’s true, the last place you shoulda went to was a hospital. Unless you just wanted to catch the yeller-jack.”

  “I’ve already had it. I’m immune. Answer me. Do you have a backache?”

  “Yeah, some. But I been standin’ up watchin’ the horses all day.”

  “Stop lying to me and playing the big, tough man,” she shouted. “I want to know how you feel.”

  He took a moment to answer. “Kinda poorly, I reckon.”

  She got up, walked to him and put her palm against his forehead. “Pack a little bag. We’re getting out of here.”

  He felt his head. “Do I have a fever?”

  “Yes.”

  He shrugged. “Then why are we goin’ anywhere? If I’ve got the yeller-jack I’m either gonna get better or I’m gonna die. This is as good a place as any to do whichever.”

  “I was here during the last big epidemic, Josiah. There were bodies in the streets. No words can describe the horror of it.”

  “Okay. Just explain to me how getting’ on a boat and goin’ someplace else is gonna be better for either of us, and I’ll start packin’.”

  She sat back down and wiped a tear off her cheek. “I’d feel safer if you were in the care of an eastern doctor.”

  “How would the doctor feel?”

  “What?”

  “Do you think the doctor’d be happy that we exposed him and all his patients to the yeller-jack? There ain’t no cure, Marina. A body either gets better or dies.”

  “Damn it, Josiah. Do you always have to be so logical?”

  “No. I can wring my hands and holler gloom and doom with the best of ‘em. But if I’m gonna die soon, hollerin’ seems like a waste of precious time.”

  She tried to answer but choked and sobbed.

  “Lordy,” he said in astonishment. “I ain’t never seen you like this before.”

  “You never died on me before.”

  “I come close once or twice.”

  “Yes, but I didn’t love you then. At least not the way I do now.”

  He sat back in his chair and chuckled. “Hearin’ you say that you love me is worth dyin’ for, Marina, ‘cause I sure do love you more’n anything in my whole life.”

  May 31, 1854

  Fort Leavenworth, Kansas

  Anna was dirty, sweat-stained and sunburned. She handed the telegram to her brother Robert and pushed her tangled hair out of her eyes. “Thomas sent this to me in Lawrence. Nancy and I can’t read anything but the word urgent.”

  “Thomas sent it to you?” Robert looked confused. “From where?”

  “Marshall, Texas,” Nancy replied. “The telegraph’s connected from Marshall to New Orleans. I’m not sure how it’s routed beyond…”

  “Read the damned telegram, Robert,” Anna interrupted. “We just busted our asses to get here hoping that you could.”

  “Okay, Anna. There’s no need for that kind of talk.” He glanced at the form. “It says that Mother will be arriving aboard the steam ship Queen of New Orleans at the Town of Kansas tomorrow at nine in the morning.”

  “It does not.” Anna snatched the telegram back. “It’s gobbledygook:

  URGENT

  MOM SS Q OF NO TOK

  ETA 06/01/54 0900.”

  Robert nodded. “Yes.”

  “What do you mean, yes?” Anna shouted.

  “Do you want me to explain it to you?” Nancy asked.

  “Explain it to me?” Anna turned toward her. “When we read it in Lawrence you were as baffled as I. Now you’re going to explain it to me?”

  “Yes. Now that Robert read it to us, it makes perfect sense.”

  “Just stop,” Robert said. “Both of you. Go wash up and get something to eat. We’ll have to ride hard to get to Kansas before Mother’s steamer.”

  Anna looked at Nancy, then back at Robert. “We’re not in Kansas?”

  “This is the territory,” he said. “The Town of Kansas is seventy miles south of here. We’ll have to change horses at each relay station, so we barely have enough time to get there.”

  “Why can’t we go by boat?” Nancy asked.

  “We can’t make it in time by boat,” Robert replied in an exasperated tone. “If we don’t hurry we won’t make it on horseback. We’re wasting time.”

  “Why the rush?” Anna asked. “Mother’s perfectly capable of finding accommodations or transportation. She…” Anna looked at the telegram again. “Does MOM mean mom? As in the vulgar form of mother that our mother hates?”

  “Yes.” Robert nodded. “Tom, William and I always called her Mom behind her back.”

  “It just says mom.” Anna looked searchingly at her brother. “There’s no mention of Josiah. Does that mean something?”

  “It might,” Robert said. “There’s been a serious outbreak of Yellow Fever in New Orleans. Thousands are dead. Most of the non-indigenous population is infected.”

  “Could Mother be infected?” Anna asked.

  “She had it when she was a child,” he said, shaking his head. “She’s immune.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “I remember the Yellow Fever epidemic when Dad was stationed in New Orleans,” he replied. “Please go eat so we can get started.”

  “Another minute won’t matter,” she shouted at him. “Why don’t I remember the Yellow Fever epidemic? I’m two years older than you are.”

  He shrugged. “You never seem to remember things from our childhood. I always do.”

&
nbsp; “And none of us got it? The Yellow Fever?”

  “William and Dad both did,” Robert said in an annoyed tone. “William was in bed for a week but Mother had to scold him to keep him there. Dad looked awful, but he reported for duty every day.”

  “How did the rest of us avoid getting it?”

  “Nobody knows the answer to that question. Now, let’s get going, Anna. After you’ve eaten I’ll have a change of clothes for you both.”

  “What kind of clothes?” Anna asked.

  “Just shirts, hats and overalls,” Robert answered. “You can’t wear dresses on this trip.”

  “We wore dresses from Washington to Lawrence and from Lawrence to here,” Anna replied.

  “You’re not dressing me like a soldier, Robert Van Buskirk,” Nancy protested. “I will not wear trousers.”

  “Please,” Robert said in an exasperated tone. “I have ten thousand men under my command and they all trust me that I know what I’m doing. Why can’t you?”

  “How many women?” Nancy asked.

  Robert whispered a prayer.

  “We’re going to wash and eat,” Anna grumbled. “We’ll discuss wardrobe when we return.” She took Nancy’s arm and started toward the mess tent.

  “I’m not wearing trousers,” Nancy said to Anna, “and that’s final.”

  “Why not?” Anna asked.

  “Well for one thing you have to undress from the waist down in order to pee and for another...” She looked over her shoulder at Robert. “I’ll tell you the other later.”

  June 1, 1854

  Pacheco Pass, California

  Colonel Jack Van Buskirk threaded his horse through the rocky terrain toward the sound of gunfire.

  “Hold it.” A man stepped out and tried to catch the bridle of Jack’s horse but got slapped with the flat of Jack’s sword instead. “You sum-bitch.” The man reached toward his holster.

  “Bad idea,” Jack said as two troops of mounted cavalry appeared behind him. He put the point of the sword under the man’s chin.

  “Now hold on a second, Major,” the man whined. “You don’t understand what’s goin’ on.”

  “Explain it to me then.” Jack rested the sword across his pummel. “And I’m a colonel, not a major.”

  “Yes, sir, Colonel. Well, the thing is, y’ see – we got Joaquin Murietta and his gang pinned down up there.” He pointed toward the crest. “All I was tryin’ to do was keep you outta the line of fire.”

  Other men were now cautiously coming out of the rocks behind the man. In response, both troop commanders were deploying their men in a rough line with their rifles at port arms across their chests.

  “Hey, Colonel,” the man said nervously. “We’re all on the same side.”

  “What side is that?” Jack was scanning the top of the pass but he could see nothing moving.

  “California and the US of A,” he stammered.

  “Who are you?”

  “Jake Johnson.”

  “Do you and these other men have some legal right to be shooting at citizens, Mr. Johnson?”

  “We’re California State Rangers.” The man named Johnson showed Jack the ribbon that was pinned to his shirt. “All of us is Rangers. And Murietta ain’t no citizen. He’s a Meskin.”

  “Under the terms of the Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo he became a citizen of the United States when Mexico ceded California,” Jack said.

  “Well it don’t matter no-how ‘cause he’s a bandit with a price on his head.”

  “Who’s in charge of these Rangers, Mr. Johnson? You?”

  “No, not me. Captain Harry Love.”

  “Where is Captain Love?”

  “Well I can’t rightly say at the moment,” Johnson replied. “We split up back at Monterey.”

  “So he’s not with you?”

  “No, sir. Not at the moment, he ain’t. But I sent word to him. He should be along directly.”

  “If not you, who was put in charge of this detail?” Jack stood up in the stirrups to look the men over.

  “Well nobody, really. We was headed to Los Banos for a kinda vacation, but we run into these outlaws and…”

  Jack caught a glimpse of movement on the ridge and sat back in his saddle. “You’re sure Murietta’s up there, Mr. Johnson?”

  “Yes, sir. Pretty sure.”

  “Pretty sure or sure?”

  “Well, pretty sure.”

  “So let me see if I understand. You’ve been exchanging gunfire with someone, but you’re not sure who.”

  “Well that ain’t exactly right.”

  “Have you identified yourselves as peace officers?”

  “Do what?”

  “Did you announce that you were California State Rangers and did you offer the people up there the opportunity to surrender?”

  “That’s a pretty far piece for havin’ a conversation, Major.”

  “It’s colonel.”

  “Colonel. Yeah. Sorry.”

  Jack turned in his saddle. “Captain Avery.”

  “Sir.”

  “I’m going to ride up to the top. You’re in command until I return. If any of these men fires a weapon or tries to run away, please arrest and hang them.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Now wait just a minute, Colonel,” Johnson complained. “Them outlaws has a bounty on ‘em and it’s ours by rights.”

  “Indeed,” Jack agreed. “And if they prove to be outlaws you’ll be paid the reward. If on the other hand they’re private citizens that you’ve attacked, you’ll be arrested. Is that clear?”

  “Yes, sir.” Johnson said to his boot tops.

  Jack urged his horse forward through the men that were in various firing positions among the rocks. The pass was only thirteen hundred feet at its crest, but the road through it was rutted and littered with rocks, which made progress slow. When Jack was, at last, about fifty yards from the top, a man’s face appeared in a narrow stone window. “Stop.”

  Jack kept riding. “Keep your head and your voice down,” he said in Spanish. “We can talk when I get up there.”

  “Ah, I know you, Van Buskirk.”

  “Then get down. I want the Rangers to think that everyone up here is dead.”

  The man vanished.

  Jack reached the crest, dismounted and still holding his sword, tied his horse to a dead tree. “Where are you, Murietta?”

  “Close.” Murietta stepped into the open. “But not close enough to be stuck on your blade.”

  “How many men do you have up here?”

  “Enough.”

  “Stop playing games with me, Joaquin. I am trying to find a way for you to live through this day. How many?”

  “There were three of us,” Murietta said after a moment. “Two are dead.”

  “Let me see the bodies.”

  “Why?” he asked suspiciously.

  “If one of the dead men resembles the picture on your wanted poster I might be able to convince those Rangers that they killed you.”

  “Why would you do that?”

  Jack looked at the sky for a moment before answering. “I was in the Mexican War. I owe somebody something for the things I did there. It might as well be you that I pay.”

  “My cousin, Juan, is younger than me, but his face is like mine.” He pointed. “Up there. Behind those rocks.”

  Jack walked into the rocks and knelt beside the body. “Your cousin will do.” He moved to examine the second corpse. “Three Fingered Jack. That should make the Rangers happy. The reward for him is almost as big as the reward for you.” He looked at Murietta. “You might not want to watch this.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “I am going to cut off your cousin’s head and Three Finger Jack’s hand.” He showed Murietta his sword.

  Murietta turned his back. “If you do this – if you convince the Rangers that I am dead, how do I get away?” Murietta asked.

  “All you have to do is hide in the rocks until the Rangers go. They wer
e headed toward Los Banos, but they will turn back and look for their captain now. He is the only one that can claim the reward.”

  “Our horses ran away during the fight.”

  “I will wait until the Rangers are out of sight, then leave one of our remounts for you, and a canteen of water.”

  Murietta crossed himself. “What can I do to thank you?”

  “Stay dead.” Jack walked back to his horse, wrapped his grisly cargo in an extra blanket and rode down to tell the Rangers that the notorious Joaquin Murietta, the Robin Hood of California, was dead.

  June 1, 1854

  The Town of Kansas, Kansas

  When the steamer was ten feet from the dock, Robert leaped aboard, hopped the rail and hugged Marina tightly. “Hello, Mother. I’ve missed you.”

  Normally, Marina would have pushed him away and chided him for the public display of affection, but instead she clung to him and stifled a sob. “Thank you for meeting me.”

  Robert released her and picked up the bag at her feet. “Is this all?”

  “Yes. I put everything else in storage at the Port of New Orleans. I’ll get it on the way home.”

  Robert waved to his sister and Nancy who were both weeping.

  “Why are they crying?” Marina asked.

  “Because they know Josiah was with you when you left New Mexico and they can see that he’s not with you now. Is he dead?”

  Marina nodded. “Yellow fever.” She swallowed the lump in her throat and took a deep breath. “What on earth are they wearing?”

  “Bib overalls and floppy hats,” Robert said.

  “Let me rephrase the question,” she said, gathering her strength. “Why are they wearing bib overalls and floppy hats?”

  “White women have become a valuable commodity,” Robert replied. “I thought hiding their hair and figures was prudent.”

  “I agree. But why do they look like snowmen?”

  “They’re wearing their dresses under the overalls.”

  “In this heat? Might I ask why?”

  “It has something to do with being able to squat and urinate. I decided not to delve too deeply into the subject.”

  “I see.” Marina smiled wanly. “Can they use those pistols they’re wearing or are they window dressing?”