Antebellum (Gone For Soldiers)
Page 23
“Couldn’t you just request a transfer?”
He turned back toward her. “A request for transfer would be the same as a resignation. My brother and I were unaffected by the reduction in force after the war because our family is well-connected. Nearly every other officer that we served with in Mexico is selling shoes or clerking in a bank. Robert’s friend, Sam Grant, is growing potatoes.” He shook his head.
“Where would we go?” She took a step toward him and stopped. “Or were you thinking of going somewhere on your own without me?”
“I was thinking of going home and taking you with me.”
“Home to Texas or home to New Jersey?”
“New Jersey is my home, but I could take you to Texas on the way.”
She shook her head emphatically. “No. If you’ll have me, I want to go with you. Wherever you go.”
“Good. Then it’s decided.”
“There’s a lot to do,” Clementine said, uncertainly. She looked around. “We’ll have to sell all this. And the house.”
“We could just set fire to it.”
She turned back to him. “If that’s what you want, I’ll light the match.”
“I’d do it if we wouldn’t get arrested.”
“There might be a few things that you wanna keep. Like your father’s and your grandfather’s watches.”
He nodded, then looked out the window again. “We can’t leave until next spring, anyway. I’d like to see Yellowstone on the way. That route will be snowed in before we can get this place sold and make the journey. The summers there are very short.”
“Yellowstone?”
“Yes.”
She waited a moment to see if he would explain, then when it was clear that he wouldn’t she said, “Whatever you decide, I’m with you. But I think you should wait to make the decision. Going home through Yellowstone doesn’t make a lick of sense.”
“The decision’s already made. We’ll sell everything, form a wagon train and leave from Sacramento on the first day of April next year for Yellowstone.”
“Don’t you think you’re being a bit hasty? Yellowstone is a wild place. Nobody’s gonna want to join a train going there.”
“Then we’ll go alone.”
Clementine wondered if Jack had lost his mind. Then she decided that if he had, she was the cause and she would face any consequences. “Okay. Yellowstone it is.”
June 4, 1854
West Point, New York
Second Lieutenants Paul Van Buskirk and Jeb Stuart shook hands with Cadet Johnny Van Buskirk, then boarded the Manhattan-bound steamer. Paul moved to the rail and waved farewell to his brother. “This is going to be hard for Johnny. He’s never been alone before.”
Stuart raised his hand to Johnny. “He’ll be fine. Being on his own will be good for him.”
Paul looked uncertain. “He has a wild streak.”
“Don’t we all?”
“Not like Johnny. My Aunt Anna says that he reminds her of my Uncle William. I don’t think Johnny would have made it through his plebe year if we hadn’t been sitting on him.”
“His roommate, Fitzhugh Lee, is a serious young man. He’s sure to be a good influence on your brother.”
“I hope so.” Paul waved again as the steamer eased away from the dock.
“Was there a Lee in last year’s class?”
Paul shook his head. “I don’t remember. Why?”
“I was just wondering which family had the most West Point graduates. Yours or Lee’s.”
“I think we have a significant edge. My father and three of his brothers attended before the ‘no brothers’ rule.”
“There are two Lees in our class.”
Paul nodded. “But Stephen Lee and George Lee aren’t related.”
“Oh that’s right.”
October 19, 1854
Washington, D.C.
Nancy came into the suite at the Willard, stopped in front of the foyer mirror and began removing her hat pins. “Anna? Are you home?”
“Yes,” Anna called from the living room. “Are you alone?”
“Yes, why?”
“Because I’m not dressed to receive company and wondered if I needed to run for my bedroom.”
“I won’t look.” Nancy took off her hat and carried it with her. “The wind out there is fierce.” She put her hat on the couch, the hat pins in an ashtray, and then began taking out hairpins to let down her hair. “Is something wrong, Anna?”
Anna was sitting on the couch in her robe with a towel wrapped around her head like a turban. “No. Well, yes. Not awful. Well, pretty awful.” She pointed to a letter on the coffee table. “We got a letter from Robert. Jack’s resigning from the Army. You better read it yourself.”
“Why did you wash your hair?” Nancy asked, as she picked up the letter.
“I walked home and got splashed with gutter water that smelled like sewage.”
Nancy let her hair fall and fluffed at it with one hand while reading the letter in the other. “Did you have the laundry pick up your dress already?”
“Not yet. I sponged it off, but it needs to be laundered. Do you have something that needs to go?”
“This and my blue evening dress.” She stopped fluffing her hair and gripped the letter with both hands. “Did you read this whole letter?”
“Yes.”
“Well then why aren’t you ranting and raving?”
“Who am I to throw stones at Clementine? The only difference between the two of us is that I’ve never been smart enough to get paid for being a whore.”
Nancy looked at her. “Has something else happened? Something beside this, I mean.”
Anna shook her head. “No. I’m just being honest.”
Nancy sat down and re-read the entire letter, then tossed it toward the coffee table and left it on the floor when it missed. “You’ve never done anything like Clementine’s done, Anna. She’s ruined her husband’s reputation and is causing him to resign from a career that he loves.”
“Maybe. I just don’t know. I feel so bad for Jack.” She shook her head sadly. “After Caroline, his first wife, and their children died, the poor man was due a little happiness in his life but instead he gets this.” She shrugged.
“Do you know anything about the new Nebraska Territory or this Yellowstone where Jack wants to go?” Nancy asked.
“No. But I didn’t get that from the letter.”
“Get what from the letter?”
“That Jack wanted to go to the Yellowstone Territory.”
Nancy got up and retrieved the letter. “It says right here that they’re going to Yellowstone by wagon train, next April.”
“It says earlier that Jack’s coming back here. I’m assuming that he wants to go through Yellowstone on the way.”
“I’m confused. Do we have a map?”
“Nothing with any detail. That part of the country is mostly uncharted wilderness.”
“Do you suppose Robert sent a similar letter to your mother?”
“Yes, but he probably wouldn’t have been so frank about Clementine’s behavior. Why?”
“I was just thinking that she might know more about Yellowstone.”
“We can go up to New Jersey and talk to her next weekend if you want.”
“Has she said anything else about going back to New Mexico?”
“Not since she said that she’s going back in the spring. I really don’t think she’ll change her mind.”
“I don’t think we should tell the boys about this,” Nancy said, waving the letter.
“About what?”
“About Clementine.”
“Why not?”
“It’s Jack’s place to tell them when and how he wants to.”
Anna made a face. “Clementine is their aunt. They have a right to know.”
“Maybe, but she’s Jack’s wife and a terrible embarrassment to him. Promise me that you’ll let him tell them in his own time.”
“Okay.”
“No. I m
ean it. I want you to swear that you won’t tell them, Anna.”
“What if one of them asks me?”
“Say you don’t know.”
“Lie to my own son or my nephews?”
“It’s not like you haven’t told a million lies before.”
“Maybe not that many, Nancy.”
“Swear.”
Anna raised her right hand. “I swear.”
Nancy stood up and dropped the letter on the table. “You better let me comb your hair before it dries, or you won’t be able to do anything with it in the morning.”
Anna nodded and stood up. “Well, at least Jane will be happy at this news.” She pointed at the letter.
“Why would Jane be happy that Jack’s in misery?”
“Not because of Jack. Because of Clementine. Jane always said she was a slut.”
“In this case, I don’t think Jane’s going to be happy that she was right. Jane’s a very decent woman.”
“Yes. Of course she is. She’ll see it as a tragedy, the same as we do. My remark was stupid and uncalled-for. Please forgive me. I get more like my mother every day”
November 23, 1854
Waco, Texas
Jane Van Buskirk handed Robert’s letter back to Thomas. “What a tragedy. Do you think they’ll be coming through here on the way home?”
“No. Yellowstone’s quite a bit north of here. They’ll probably travel due east to Lake Michigan and then go the rest of the way by water.”
“Why Yellowstone?”
“I don’t know.”
“Isn’t it very wild and untamed?”
“Yes. It’s like Texas was when we came.”
“I wish I’d been kinder to Clementine.”
“Apparently you saw her for what she was.”
“I judged her, and I was wrong to do that. Maybe if I’d been a better sister…” She shook her head sadly. “Poor Jack.”
Thomas reread part of the letter. “I don’t think we should tell the boys about this.”
“Why not? They’re old enough to understand.”
He nodded. “But young enough to be brash and judgmental.”
“All right. If that’s what you want, I won’t mention it to Paul or John.” She took a breath. “Thomas, could we go home for Christmas?”
“I can’t afford to be gone from here that long, Jane.”
“This is probably the last year that your mother will be at the Point.”
“We’ll see her when she comes through next spring on her way back to Mesilla.”
“How would you feel about me going home alone?”
“To New Jersey?”
“Yes.”
“To see my mother?”
“Yes. And Anna, Nancy and, of course, the boys.”
Thomas shook his head. “No. It’s too dangerous.”
She looked down at her hands and rubbed them together. “I’m sorry, Thomas. I was hoping you’d agree, but I’m going, with or without your approval.”
“I forbid it, Jane.”
“I’m going, Tom. And if you try to stop me I’ll go anyway and I may not come back.”
December 27, 1854
Van Buskirk Point, New Jersey
Abe clicked to the horses, flicked the reins, and the sleigh glided off over the snow with Anna, Nancy, Paul and Johnny in the seats behind him. “Hold on. There’s a bit of a bump crossing the pond,” he shouted.
Anna was kneeling backwards in the rear seat, waving goodbye to Marina and Jane, who were standing on the porch of the big house. “Mother looks so old.”
“Didn’t you hear Abe?” Nancy tugged on Anna’s coat. “Turn around, sit down and hold on.”
Anna settled into the seat and took a grip with her gloved hands on the grab-bar. “That was more pleasant than any Christmas that I can remember.”
“That’s the first Christmas that I can remember when you weren’t angry at someone,” Nancy replied.
“Oh, that’s slanderous,” Anna complained.
“Truth isn’t slander.” Nancy thumped Paul on the shoulder. “Isn’t that true, Pea?”
Paul looked back over his shoulder and grinned. “I’m not getting into that argument.”
~
“This has been the nicest Christmas in years,” Jane said, waving goodbye at the sleigh. “It never seems like Christmas in Texas without snow.”
Marina opened the front door and went into the house. “It’s never seemed like Christmas to me since John died.”
It took Jane a moment to realize that Marina was speaking of her late husband. “Yes. I miss him too. He was a fine man.” With one last wave to the sleigh, she followed Marina inside and closed the door.
Marina walked to the fireplace and turned her back to it, rubbing her hands vigorously. “The cold didn’t seem to bother me as much when I was young.”
“I should have made you put a coat on.” Jane sat down in an overstuffed chair.
“I’m sorry that I haven’t been a better mother-in-law to you, Jane.”
“What?” Jane shook her head. “You’ve got nothing to apologize for, Marina.”
“Yes I do. I owe so many apologies to so many people that I feel like the Charles Dickens character, Jacob Marley, dragging all my sins along behind me on a long, heavy chain.”
“My biggest regret is that I treated Clementine so badly.”
“You’ve said that before, but, frankly, I don’t think you treated her as badly as you remember.”
“I judged her very harshly.”
“She deserved it. She had a tough start in life and took the easy road.”
“I’m surprised to hear you say that.”
“Why? Because Clementine and I were both trollops when we were girls?”
“Well…”
“In self-defense, I was a captive slave. My choices were to submit or die. Clementine had some freedom of choice. She chose the easy way. I might have done the same if John hadn’t come into my life, but I didn’t.”
“Do you know what’s bothering Johnny?” Jane asked. “I tried to talk to him but he insisted that nothing’s wrong.”
“He’s in love, that’s all.”
“I hope that’s all.”
Marina blew on her hands. “When are you planning to go home?”
“Are you coming with me?”
“I might. Does that make a difference as to when you’ll leave?”
Jane dropped her eyes for a moment. “Wouldn’t it be better for you to wait until the weather’s warmer?”
“It makes no difference to me if I’m cold here, in Texas or somewhere in between.”
Jane laughed. “If you’re wondering if I’m going to follow through with my threat to leave Tom, the answer is that I miss him.”
Marina smiled. “I never thought your threat was serious.”
“I was planning to go back sometime in the middle of March,” Jane said.
“Then I’ll go with you. If you don’t mind.”
“I’d be delighted for your company.”
“Good,” Marina said. “What shall we do until then? Or did you intend to stay cooped up here all winter?”
“I haven’t given it much thought, but I’d dearly love to see whatever’s playing at the Astor Opera House in Manhattan.”
“It’s closed. The Mercantile Library took over the building. But there are a number of new theaters on Broadway now.” She turned around to look into the fire. “Josiah and I saw some operas and plays in New Orleans. I think it may have been the most fun I’ve ever had.”
“I’m sorry about Josiah, Marina. We’re all going to miss him.”
“It’s going to be as hard to be back in Mesilla without him as it is to be here without John. Odd how you associate people with places, isn’t it?”
Jane nodded. “My father loved Manhattan. Let’s go over tomorrow, while the Christmas decorations are still up.”
“I’d like that,” Marina replied. “But let’s take the iceboat and have some
thrills on the way.”
March 1, 1855
San Francisco, California
Jack Van Buskirk was behind his desk signing a stack of orders when the Regimental Sergeant Major looked into the office door.
“Colonel?”
Jack looked up. “Yes, Sergeant?”
“Sorry to bother you, sir. There’s an Indian boy that’s been pestering everybody, sayin’ that he wants to see you.”
“What about?”
“He won’t say.”
“So why are you telling me this, Sergeant Major?”
“We keep tryin’ to run him off, but he comes back and stands outside by the sidewalk like one o’ them wooden Indians they put in front of the cigar stores back east.”
Jack looked toward the rain-spattered window. “He’s out there now? In the rain?”
“Yes, sir.”
Jack got up and walked to the window. A long-haired teenage boy was standing in the street at the edge of the sidewalk. “He looks like a drowned rat.”
“Yes, sir. I was wonderin’, sir. That is, would you object if I let him in? Only ‘til the rain stops. There’s that empty storeroom in back. I know that regulations don’t…”
“By all means.” Jack walked back to his desk. “Bring the boy in, dry him off and send Corporal Johansen to buy him some dry clothes. Take the money from the petty cash box, bring me the receipt and I’ll reimburse the box. When he’s dry and warm, I’ll talk to him.”
~
“What’s your name?” Jack asked.
“No name,” the boy answered. He was perched on the edge of a chair facing Jack and he looked as if he might flee at any moment.
“What do people call you?”
“Kid, Boy, Indian and some bad words.”
“What did you want to talk to me about?”
“They say you will be leading a wagon train north to Yellowstone.”
“Yes.”
“I would go with you.”
“Why?” Jack asked.
“To return to my people.”
“Who are your people?”
“Lakota.”
“Sioux?”
The boy nodded.
Jack took a moment to answer. “We’ll be a very small train and we’re not going that far north.”