Antebellum BK 1

by Jeffry S. Hepple

  Antebellum

  By

  Jeffry S. Hepple

  Book One of the Johnny Comes Marching Home Trilogy

  Copyright 2011, Jeffry S. Hepple ~ All rights reserved.

  Dedicated to the offspring of my offspring and their offspring: Joe, Josh, Daniel, Alex, Megan and Camden. May you always be blessed with good health, happiness, the magic of books, and the freedom bought by the sacrifices of our ancestors.

  With continued thanks to all whose support keeps me going: Geoff Thomas, Brian Palesch, Margaret Lake, Mindy Schwartz and especially Susan Trotter.

  Table of Contents

  1847, 1848, 1849, 1850, 1851, 1852, 1853, 1854, 1855, 1856, 1857, 1858, 1859, 1860, 1861

  All men are created equal

  Deleted from Thomas Jefferson’s original draft of the Declaration of Independence, at the insistence of the Georgia and North Carolina delegations:

  “He has waged cruel war against human nature itself, violating its most sacred rights of life and liberty in the persons of a distant people who never offended him, captivating & carrying them into slavery in another hemisphere, or to incur miserable death in their transportation thither. This piratical warfare, the opprobrium of INFIDEL powers, is the warfare of a CHRISTIAN king of Great Britain. Determined to keep open a market where MEN should be bought & sold, he has prostituted his negative for suppressing every legislative attempt to prohibit or to restrain this execrable commerce.”

  Later, when delegates assembled in Philadelphia to write the United States Constitution, James Madison said:

  “The real difference of interests lay not between large and small states but between the Northern and Southern states. The institution of slavery and its consequences formed a line of discrimination.”

  The compromises to slavery during the ratification of these two core documents remained an open wound that festered until its poison destroyed what were the United States of America. The war to close the wound resulted in a country that was The United States of America.

  April 5, 1847

  San Antonio, Texas

  Texas Ranger Captain Charles Lagrange dismounted and tied his horse next to a pinto at the saloon’s hitching rail, then began to methodically examine the right forefoot of each of the other horses at the rail. He grunted with satisfaction when the third horse revealed a notched right-front shoe. For nearly a month, across two hundred miles of rugged, unmapped territory, Charlie Lagrange had been tracking this particular horseshoe.

  “Can I help you with something?” The man who had come from the saloon was wearing an eastern suit of clothes with a tricorne hat and two Walker-Colt revolvers in cut-down cavalry holsters. His hands were resting on the handles of the pistols.

  Charlie let go of the horse’s forefoot and stood up. “This your horse, Mister?”

  “It might be. What business is that of yours?”

  “Hey,” Charlie exclaimed in surprise. “I know you.” He took a step toward the man.

  “I don’t think so.” The man drew his pistols.

  “Now hold on,” Charlie said, raising his hands shoulder high. “I was just getting a better look at your face.”

  “That’s a very bad idea. I put a high value upon anonymity.”

  “Too late for that. You’re William Van Buskirk.” Charlie grinned. “Long time no see.”

  The other man looked around nervously.

  “You don’t remember me, do you?” Charlie said with a chuckle.

  “No. I don’t.”

  “Your brother Tom and I busted you out of the maximum security loony-bin in Williamsburg, Virginia, a few years back.”

  “Ah yes.” He glanced up the street. “Is my brother Thomas here with a posse? Blocking my exit from town, perhaps?”

  “No. Tom’s in Mexico, fighting in the war. I suppose you’ve heard that the United States is at war with Mexico.”

  “I had heard that my father, my mother and my brothers Jack and Robert were in Mexico. But, frankly, I hadn’t expected Thomas to get involved in such a silly land grab. He’s usually too smart to be drawn into political intrigues.”

  “Marina was captured by Santa Anna. Tom gathered a regiment and went down there to join your father and your other two brothers to get your mother back.”

  “Had it been up to me, I would have let Santa Anna keep her. Both my mother and Santa Anna are truly evil people who deserve each other.”

  Charlie shook his head sadly. “You must be a real disappointment to your family. Do you know that Yank’s a major general now?”

  “No, but I’m not surprised. My father’s always been a soldier. I only went to West Point because he forced me to.”

  “I don’t believe that for a minute. I’ve seen how Yank treats Tom and Anna’s boys and I’ve never seen him push them to do anything that they didn’t want to do.”

  “Yes, well I’m certain that you must know my father better than I,” he said sarcastically. “But, you only answered half of my original question. Are you alone, or did you bring a posse?”

  “No posse. Just me. How about we go into the saloon and have a drink?”

  “After our drink do you intend to let me go?”

  “I can’t do that. I truly wish I could, but I can’t.”

  “I think I failed to thank you properly for breaking me out of prison. Thank you, and goodbye.” He cocked and aimed the pistol in his right hand at Charlie’s head.

  “Do you intend to shoot me down in cold blood?” Charlie asked, more incredulous than frightened.

  “I’d really rather not,” William replied, “but it seems that I must.” He lowered the pistol slightly. “Unless, of course, you reconsider, disarm yourself, unsaddle your horse and then walk away.”

  “How can I do that? You murdered a Texas Ranger.”

  “It was self-defense.”

  “You’ll have a chance to prove that at your trial. I’ll do my best for you. That’s a promise.”

  “Trials and promises are too unpredictable. I’d much prefer that you do as I ask. Unbuckle your pistol belt.”

  “Can’t. I took an oath to uphold the law.”

  “You’d already taken that oath when you helped Thomas break me out of prison.”

  “Yes, that’s true. But this is different.”

  “That’s bad luck for both of us, but it’s particularly bad luck for you.” Once again, he aimed the pistol at Charlie’s face.

  “Now hold on, William.” Charlie raised his hands higher. “There’s something else you don’t know.”

  “Such as?”

  “I’m your brother-in-law.”

  “You’re my what?”

  “Your brother-in-law. I’m married to your sister, Anna.”

  “That’s even worse luck for you. I’ve never liked that bitch.” William Van Buskirk, alias Lucky Billy Van, shot Charlie Lagrange between the eyes, then mounted his horse and rode out of town.

  April 5, 1848

  Mexico City, Mexico

  When the last notes of Scott’s Tattoo echoed across the cemetery, a U.S. Army sergeant in dress blues dropped his salute, did a smart about-face and with the tri-folded American Flag under his left arm, marched forward to stop at attention before the seated mourners. He bent at the waist over Marina Van Buskirk and said in a low tone of voice, “As a representative of the United States Army, it is my high privilege to present you with this flag. Let it be a symbol of the grateful appreciation this nation feels for the distinguished service rendered to our country and our flag by your loved one.” He gave the flag to Marina, then came back to attention. After a respectful nod to Jack, Thomas and Robert Van Buskirk, he returned to the honor guard.

  Dry-eyed, Marina stood up, tucked the flag under her arm and turned tow
ard her eldest son. “Who has the other urn, Jack?”

  “I’m not sure, Mother,” Jack replied.

  She looked back at the gravesite. “I hope that they didn’t put all your father’s ashes in the urn that they’re burying.”

  “No, Mother,” her youngest son, Robert said. “I saw to it myself. Half the ashes are in the urn that they’re burying and the other half was put into a separate urn to be buried at Van Buskirk Point.”

  “Do you know where the other one is?” she asked.

  “Not exactly,” Robert admitted.

  “I’ll go see,” Thomas volunteered.

  “No,” Marina said. “Wait until all the condolence-wishers have had their say. I want all of you with me during that ordeal.” She straightened her back, preparing herself for the queue of officers that was forming at a respectful distance to her left.

  Jack took up his position beside Marina with Thomas beside him and Robert at the end.

  Marina looked at the tri-folded flag she was holding. “Why was this presented by an enlisted man rather than an officer, Jack?”

  “That was Sergeant Nicholas Porter Earp,” Jack whispered. “Dad saved his life during the Black Hawk War and Sergeant Earp asked for the honor of presenting you with the flag. I thought it was appropriate, and I agreed.”

  “You must tell me about what happened some time,” Marina said as she smiled at General Winfield Scott, who was now approaching the family.

  “Our Country has suffered a great loss,” Scott said, taking Marina’s hand. “The debt we owe to Yank Van Buskirk can never be repaid.”

  “Thank you, Win,” Marina said. “You are and always have been a special friend.”

  Scott walked past her and shook Jack’s hand. “I’m truly sorry for your loss, Colonel.”

  Jack smiled but didn’t answer.

  Scott moved on to shake Thomas’s hand. “We’ll miss him, Colonel.”

  “Thank you, General,” Thomas replied.

  Scott took Robert’s hand and looked into his eyes. “Be strong, Major.”

  Robert was clearly fighting tears. “I can’t believe he’s gone, sir.”

  “Nor can I,” Scott replied sadly.

  Marina leaned closer to Jack to whisper in his ear. “Tell me their names.”

  “You must know General Worth,” Jack said, glancing at the next officer in line, who was waiting for Scott to finish speaking to Robert. “Don’t you?” He looked concerned.

  “Yes, of course I know General Worth, but I don’t know all of the junior officers.” She shook hands with General William Worth, but neither of them spoke, and Worth moved on.

  “The next one in line is Robert Edward Lee,” Jack murmured as Worth stopped in front of his brother, Robert.

  “My deepest condolences, Madam,” Lee said. “Your husband will be missed.

  Marina took Lee’s hand. “Thank you, Captain Lee.”

  “Ulysses S. Grant,” Jack whispered when Lee had moved on. “His nickname is Sam.”

  Grant proceeded along the family line, stopping to speak only to Robert.

  “Thomas Jackson,” Jack said to Marina.

  Marina accepted Jackson’s condolences and a brief prayer, then once again leaned toward Jack while Jackson was repeating his prayer to Robert. “Where are the other generals?”

  “Negotiating the treaty to end the war,” Jack said. “Scott and Worth must have ridden several horses to death in order to make it here in time for the service.”

  She smiled. “Who’s next?”

  In turn, Jack introduced Ambrose Burnside, George Meade, Jefferson Davis, George McClellan and P.G.T. Beauregard.

  “What’s the P.G.T. stand for?” Marina asked as Beauregard walked toward them.

  “His full name is Pierre Gustave Toutant Beauregard, but he prefers the initials.”

  “I’m not surprised.” Marina accepted Beauregard’s condolences.

  Jack continued with Joseph Mansfield, Fitz John Porter, Edwin Sumner, Albert Sydney Johnston, John Reynolds, James Longstreet, Joseph Johnston, John Frémont and John Pope.

  After Jack had thanked Pope for his kind words, he whispered in Marina’s ear. “The next man is Winfield Scott Hancock.”

  “Is he related to Win?” she hissed.

  “I don’t know,” Jack replied.

  “Major Hancock.” Marina smiled and took Hancock’s hand.

  “Lewis Armistead,” Jack whispered as Hancock moved on to shake hands with Thomas.

  “Should I know him?” Marina looked confused.

  “You’ve met him before but I’m not sure if you know him. His friends call him Lo.”

  “Was he the commander of Fort McHenry?” Marina asked.

  “No, no. That was his uncle, George. Lo was wounded at Chapultepec and really should be in the hospital.”

  Armistead stepped in front of Marina and looked into her eyes. “Your husband will never be forgotten, Mrs. Van Buskirk.”

  “Thank you, Lo,” Marina said. “You should have stayed in the hospital.”

  Armistead smiled. “Ah. Someone has told you my West Point nickname.” He winked at Jack.

  She returned his smile. “I think I first heard it from your father, actually.”

  “And you remembered?” Armistead asked.

  Jack cringed, expecting Marina’s subterfuge to be exposed, but she nodded and smiled. “Lothario is a memorable nickname.”

  “I fear it’s an antonym.” Armistead kissed Marina’s hand and moved on.

  “You seem to have remembered him after all,” Jack observed.

  “He seems very fragile,” Marina observed, ignoring the implied question.

  Jack nodded. “He’ll be all right. And so will you. Only two more, Mother.”

  “I’m fine. Who’s this captain?”

  “Wyatt Berry Stapp. He’s lost half his company of Illinois volunteers and he’s taking it very badly. Say nothing unless you have to.”

  The captain shook Marina’s hand, then Jack’s, and moved on without speaking.

  The last man in line was the sergeant that had presented the flag to Marina.

  “Sergeant Nicholas Earp,” Jack reminded her. “His wife just had their fourth or fifth child. But he’s so proud you’d think it was their first.”

  “My deepest condolences, Ma’am,” Earp said as he reached her position. “Your husband was one of the finest men I’ve ever known.”

  “Thank you, Sergeant Earp.” Marina shook his hand. “My son tells me that you’ve had a recent addition to your family.”

  “It was last month, Ma’am,” Earp replied with a grin. “But I just heard about it yesterday.”

  “Boy or girl?” Marina asked.

  “Boy.” Earp gestured toward the captain who was now shaking Robert’s hand. “We named him Wyatt Berry Stapp Earp, after my commanding officer, there.” He gave her a salute and went to join the others.

  Marina waited for the sergeant to reach the end of the line then giggled. “Wyatt Earp. Poor baby. He’ll have to be a fighter like our Quincy to survive that name.”

  “How are you doing, Mother?” Robert asked.

  “I just told you that I’m fine.”

  Robert gave Jack a questioning look.

  “That was me you told, Mother,” Jack said.

  She grunted and waved her hand dismissively.

  “Are you really okay?” Jack pressed.

  “Yes,” she grumbled. “I’m just fine.”

  “Well then,” Jack said, glancing at his brothers, “there’s no reason why you couldn’t come back to Thomas’s ranch with us to meet my wife, before you lose yourself down here in Mexico.”

  Marina shook her head. “I already know your wife. I met Clementine before you did.”

  Thomas stepped closer. “Your grandsons have just lost their grandfather. They deserve to see their grandmother once more, before you ride off into the sunset like a pulp heroine.”

  “I need some time on my own,” she argued.

&n
bsp; “Pea is nearly fifteen,” Thomas replied. “He’ll be a plebe at West Point in another two years. You haven’t seen Johnny since he was a baby.”

  “Who is Pea?” Marina asked. She looked confused.

  Thomas exchanged a look with his brothers before answering. “Pea is my son’s nickname. His real name is Paul. We call him Pea to distinguish him from Paul Van Winkler, his maternal grandfather. Do you remember Jane’s father, Paul Van Winkler? He lived across the Bay from us in New Jersey and came to Texas with us.”

  “Yes, yes, of course I remember Paul Van Winkler,” she said defensively. “But you were calling the baby Sweet-Pea the last I knew. Nobody mentioned that you’d changed his nickname to Pea.”

  “We only called Paul Sweet-Pea when he was a baby,” Thomas replied.

  “Which means that Mother hasn’t seen Paul since he was a baby,” Jack offered in a calming tone. He looked at his mother. “You really should come for a visit. Just a short one.”

  “If you’ll agree, I’ll bring you back down here after your visit, Mother,” Robert offered.

  “I don’t need anyone to bring me anywhere,” Marina growled. “And there’s nothing wrong with my memory.”

  Robert rolled his eyes.

  “You need some time with family to recover from your ordeal, Mother,” Jack insisted.

  “Other than being a little foot-sore, there’s nothing wrong with me,” she argued. “Thomas thinks I’ve gone soft in the head, but I’m fine.”

  “You do seem a little forgetful,” Jack said soothingly.

  “We’ve all noticed it,” Robert added, before Marina could argue.

  “I’m going to insist that you come,” Thomas said.

  “Insist?” Her face colored and her eyes snapped.

  “Calm down, Mother,” Robert advised. “You’ll have a stroke.”