Home of the Brave
Page 20
“Now wait,” Wharton argued. “How far does it go north and south?”
Austin traced an oval around the river. “It’s about thirty miles deep. More on the north than the south side of the river. I have a survey that you can look at any time you want to, Mr. Wharton.” He walked back to the podium. “Mr. Secretary, please enter the name of Thomas Van Buskirk as delegate number fifty-five representing the Upper Colorado Grant.”
“It has been done, Mr. President,” Johnson replied.
“We have one important outstanding piece of business that we must now address until we have agreement,” Austin said. “That being the language of a resolution asking that Texas become an independent state, separate from Coahuila.”
“Whatever it says I want it made clear that we’re not demanding independence from Mexico,” a voice shouted.
Austin banged his gavel. “That has been agreed upon.”
“Not by me,” Travis shouted.
“Or me,” Wharton added.
“Well,” Austin replied in frustration. “The language has been agreed to but you can vote against the resolution when I call for the up or down vote.
“Another damn coercion,” Travis bellowed.
“Mr. President?”
“The chair recognizes Mr. Beales.”
“I call the question.”
“Second.”
Austin nodded. “All those in favor of suspending debate and voting up or down on the resolution? Opposed? Very well. The motion carries. The secretary will read the separation resolution.”
“I move that we dispense with the reading,” Dewitt said. “We all know it by heart and we’ve talked it to death.”
“Second.”
“All those in favor of dispensing with the reading? Opposed? The motion carries.”
“Mr. President?”
“Debate is closed, Mr. Travis.”
“Point of order,” Travis said.
“Go ahead,” Austin said wearily.
“The vote on the question of separation should be by a show of hands and the result recorded by the secretary,” Travis pronounced.
“Do I need to call for a vote to do that?” Austin asked Travis.
Travis shook his head. “You can ask for a vote in any form without any other approval.”
“Very well,” Austin said. “All those in favor of the resolution regarding the separation of Texas from Coahuila, raise your right hand.” He counted, then looked at Johnson. “I get thirty-six.”
“I agree,” Johnson said, writing it down.
“All opposed?” Austin asked. Once more, he counted hands. “Twelve?”
“Yes,” Johnson agreed. “Do we have to list those who didn’t vote as abstentions?”
Austin looked at Travis. “Do we?”
“I think that can be assumed,” Travis said.
“Who’s gonna take this to the State legislature in Saltillo and to the Mexican Congress in Mexico City?” Wharton asked.
“Are you volunteering?” Austin replied.
“If the Convention will pay my expenses.”
“We’ll take up a collection,” Austin said.
“I would like to go with Mr. Wharton,” Rafael Manchola, the alcalde of Goliad, said. “And I will pay my own expenses.”
“So ordered,” Austin said. “Before we adjourn we need to appoint the members of a Central Committee to convene future meetings.”
“And I need a list of the chairmen of all the committees of correspondence,” Johnson reminded them, “and the names of the commanders who will be raising militias.”
November 21, 1832
St Louis, Missouri
Marina ran up the gangplank of the steamboat into Yank’s arms, hugged him fiercely and burst into tears.
He kissed her on the lips then looked into her eyes. “I’ve missed you and I love you but I’ve lost the day count.”
She kissed him back. “Forget all that silliness.”
He looked into her eyes. “Is something wrong?”
“Why, because I’m crying?”
“No, because you’re being too nice.”
“That’s unkind,” she sobbed, fighting for control.
“What’s wrong, Marina?”
“I’ll tell you after you see to my baggage.” She fumbled in her coat pocket for a handkerchief.
“Your baggage is being taken to our stateroom. What’s wrong?”
Marina wiped her eyes then puffed out her cheeks. “Nan made me promise that I wouldn’t tell you until we were in Texas with Thomas and Jane. Don’t make me break my promise to her.”
“You just promised to tell me what’s wrong after I’d seen to the baggage and I’ve done that,” he said. “So which promise are you going to break, the one to Aunt Nan or the one to me?”
“Let’s get away from all these people.” She took his arm and walked with him to the river side of the big paddle wheeler. “Your Uncle Thomas had a stroke. He hung on for a few days but…” She touched his cheek. “I’m sorry John.”
He looked away and blinked back tears, then blew his nose. “How did Aunt Nan take it? Is she okay?”
“She never so much as shed a tear.” Marina hesitated. “She’s gone home now.”
“Home? Where was she when he died?”
“No. She’s gone home to Paris.”
“Paris isn’t her home any more,” he protested. “She left there in 1776.”
“She says that Paris is her home and that she’s going there and never coming back.”
Yank looked out at the water. “So much sadness.”
“How is Jack taking it?”
“The two of us had a bad moment when we met at Prairie du Chien, but he’s coping.” Yank wiped angrily at a tear that rolled down his cheek. “I’m going to miss that little boy, Marina,” he choked. “I had such hopes for him.”
Marina put her arms around him. “Let it go.”
“No.” He kissed her on top of the head. “I’m okay. It’s just that - I’m okay.”
“Of course you are. Come on. Show me our stateroom and let’s talk about our new life in Texas.”
November 23, 1832
Two Alone Ranch, Texas
“Who was that at the gate?” Jane asked.
“A settler named John Francis that just came from San Felipe,” Thomas replied. “He says that Ramón Músquiz, the political chief of the Department of Béxar, ruled that our Convention was illegal.”
“Is Frank Wharton still taking the resolutions to Mexico City?”
“No. Músquiz annulled our resolutions and the ayuntamientos at San Felipe, Nacogdoches, Gonzales and Liberty apologized to him for their participation in the Convention. What a bloody waste of time.”
“So is that the end of it?”
“Austin’s going to San Antonio de Béxar to meet with Erasmo Seguin and the other political leaders in hopes of persuading them to support the resolutions.”
“Will he be able to?”
“It really doesn’t matter as long as Bustamante’s president. He’s not likely to look favorably on a petition from backers of Santa Anna. That was my fault. I misjudged Santa Anna.”
“I’m about half glad,” Jane said.
“Why?”
“You won’t be running off to any more meetings or conventions.”
“Were you talking about me?” Anna asked, as she made her way slowly down the stairs.
“No,” Thomas replied. “We were talking about Santa Anna.”
Jane watched Anna for a moment. “You’re pregnant.”
“I know,” Anna chuckled.
“When were you planning to tell us?” Jane asked.
“I wasn’t planning to,” Anna said.
Jane wrinkled her brow. “Why not?”
Anna reached the bottom of the stairs and took a deep breath. “Because you got so upset when I miscarried.”
“You should have told us so we could move you and Charlie downstairs,” Thomas admonished.
“If he’d accept some help you’d be in it already,” Thomas grumbled.
Anna shrugged. “What can I say except that he’s very independent?”
“I don’t know why he keeps his Texas Ranger job,” Jane complained.
“Because that’s what he wants,” Anna replied. “If I can grant him that, you can too.”
Thomas put his hand on Jane’s arm to keep her from responding. “I know that living here with us is hard for Charlie and we’ll do anything we can to help you both.”
“Except Charlie doesn’t want our help,” Jane said unpleasantly.
“You’re not the queen of us all,” Anna snarled. “The whores and vaqueros may worship you but Charlie and I don’t.”
“Stop.” Thomas raised his hand. “Let’s not have another fight.”
“Fine.” Jane stalked out of the room.
“I’m sorry.” Anna rubbed her eyes. “But she treats me like I’m one of her children, Thomas.”
“She’s afraid that she’s barren, Anna. It’s eating at her.”
“What does that have to do with me?”
“Nothing at all.” He shook his head. “Just do me a favor and try to avoid fighting with her, please. You and Charlie will have your freedom soon.”
December 1, 1832
Washington, District of Columbia
“Mr. President?”
President Andrew Jackson looked up from his desk. “Well?”
“There’s an old woman here. She might be mad, but then again she’s well dressed and…”
“And what? Out with it please, I need to get this done.”
“Well, sir, she insists that she has an appointment with you.”
Jackson looked at his calendar then at the staffer. “When did she make the appointment and with who?”
“She says she made it with you, Mr. President. In 1778.”
“1778? I was in…” Jackson looked puzzled for another moment and then put down his steel nib pen. “Show her in please.” He got up, walked around his desk and waited until the door opened. “I was grieved to hear of your husband’s passing, Mrs. Van Buskirk.” He kissed Nannette’s hand gallantly. “Please have a seat and I’ll order tea.”
“No thank you, Andrew. I have a ship to catch and need only a minute of your time.”
He dismissed the aide with a nod. “Well.” He looked at the clock. “You can sit for a few minutes, can’t you?”
“A few, perhaps.” She accepted the offered chair.
Jackson looked out the window. “The promise I made to you in 1778 is going to be very difficult for me to keep, under my current circumstances.”
“I came here to release you from it. When we took that oath neither of us could have imagined that you would be so famous.”
“Perhaps I could…”
“No.” She stopped him with a raised hand. “Your presence at Tarleton’s funeral would attract attention to him. He should be buried in obscurity and noted by few.”
Jackson took the chair next to her. “How will you do it?”
“Have you ever heard of a potion called curare?”
He nodded. “The dart poison.”
“It isn’t poison. It causes paralysis. Life can be sustained indefinitely with artificial respiration. He will feel pain and hear all that I have to say before I let him go.”
“Where is he?”
“He lives in Leintwardine.”
“Where’s that?”
“In Shropshire.”
“Wales?”
“I think it’s in England, but I’m not sure. It hardly matters. I’ll find him wherever he is.”
“He has a wife I believe? The daughter of the Duke of Lancaster?”
“He hasn’t lived with her in many years. At last report, he was living with Mary Robinson who is, or was, an English actress of some note. He seduced her on a bet in 1799.”
“She has no part in this.”
“No. I’ll find a way to keep her out of it. I’m in no particular hurry.”
“What will you do after?”
“Return to Paris.”
“Paris? You have a family here.”
“They’re Thomas’s family. I only borrowed them during my American adventure, and now that’s over.”
March 12, 1833
San Antonio de Béxar, Texas
They were seated in cushioned chairs in the back of a large covered wagon. The wagon was following a rough trail along the river heading north. A small pack train followed it and fifteen armed and mounted men ranged in front and on both sides.
“What’s that badge you’re wearing, Thomas?” Marina asked.
“Oh it’s nothing.”
“It looks like something,” she insisted.
“We formed Committees of Correspondence and Safety. I’m a member.”
“Where have I heard that term before?” she asked.
“Before the Revolutionary War,” Yank said. “The Committees of Correspondence and Safety organized citizen resistance like the Boston Tea party.”
“Are you and your committees contemplating a revolution, Thomas?” Marina asked.
“There are nearly forty thousand people here in Texas, Mother,” Thomas said, “and less than eight thousand of them are of Mexican descent. We should have the right to self-rule.”
“Self rule?” Yank asked. “Or secession from Mexico to join the United States?”
“We’ve declared ourselves as a separate and independent Mexican state but there’s no serious effort to join the United States.”
“The New York papers mentioned some armed conflicts,” Yank said.
“They haven’t amounted to anything,” Thomas replied. “Now with Santa Anna as president, things should cool down.”
“You would be wise not to depend on Santa Anna,” Yank said. “The man is a snake.”
“You know him?” Thomas asked.
“I know of him and I know that he has no honor.”
“Where are you getting your information?” Thomas asked.
“Sam Houston. Do you know him?”
“Yes. But I didn’t realize that you did.”
“He was with Jackson at Horseshoe Bend and we became friends.”
“All I want to know is if we’ve walked into another damned war,” Marina said.
“No,” Thomas answered forcefully. “All we want is to be recognized as separate and independent from the state Coahuila y Tejas.”
“Good,” Marina said. “We came here to get away from all that.”
“I have some other news,” Thomas said. “Jane’s going to have a baby.”
“It’s about time,” Yank said with a grin.
“Anna lost hers again.” Thomas said. “I don’t know if you got that news.”
“No,” Marina said, shaking her head sadly. “We hadn’t heard that. Poor Anna. How did she take it?”
“She took it better than Jane both times,” Thomas replied. “Jane cried for days and Anna went back to building their new house with Charlie.”
“What’s he like?” Yank asked.
“Charlie?” Thomas shrugged. “I can’t really say. Marriage changed him more than anyone could have imagined.”
“Is he good to Anna?” Marina asked.
Thomas nodded. “He adores her and Quincy.”
“And do they adore him?” she asked.
“Yes.” Thomas smiled. “Quincy calls him dad and follows him everywhere.”
“That’s good,” Yank said with a broad smile. “Anna deserves something good in her life. Did you hear about Senator Carver?”
“Quincy’s father?” Thomas shook his head. “What about the bastard?”
“He’s dead,” Yank replied. “Killed himself.”
Thomas looked at Marina. “Really?”
Marina met his gaze blandly. “Yes. He was cau
ght in a sex scandal, his wife left him and he killed himself.”
“It makes one believe in God,” Yank added.
Thomas laughed. “Or something all powerful.”
September 17, 1833
San Antonio de Béxar, Texas
Yank was sitting in a wooden chair watching a small herd of deer when one of the animals woofed. A moment later, they were all gone.
Marina let the screen door slam. “You can come in now. The screaming’s over.”
He got up and walked toward her. “Boy or girl?”
“Boy. His name is Paul.”
“Paul? Who in our family is named Paul?”
“Jane’s father.”
“Oh,” he chuckled. “Of course. Where is he, by the way?”
“He’s a bigger coward than you. I think you’ll find him in the barn.”
Yank grinned. “I’ll go tell him he’s a grandpa.”
“Take Anna with you.”
He gave her a curious look. “Why?”
“She may need to talk to you.”
“Oh. Sure. Send her out.”
Marina went into the house and a short time later, Anna joined Yank on the porch.
“Who does he look like?” Yank asked.
“Nobody we know.” Anna smiled. “He looks like a little Indian. He has dark spiky hair and eyes as black as coal.”
“I was going to tell Paul. Do you want to come with me?”
“Sure.”
He put his arm around her and walked slowly down the steps. “How are you, little girl of mine?”
“I’m fine, Father. Everyone thinks that Jane’s baby is going to make me sad but I’m happy.”
“You’re a tough one. Just like your mother.”
“I’m tough. Mother’s not. She just doesn’t care about anybody.”
“She cares but she doesn’t want to and goes to great lengths to prove that she doesn’t.”
“Why?”
“Who can imagine what it was like for her when she was a girl? The scars are deep.”
“I’m not sure how you’ve tolerated her all these years.”
“I love her.”
Anna was silent for a few paces before looking up at him. “What about Annabelle Priest? Do you love her too?”