Antebellum BK 1

by Jeffry S. Hepple

  “Double talk,” Anna said, under her breath.

  “Where’s the Vice President?” Carlotta murmured.

  “Cuba,” Anna hissed. “He’s very ill and hoping the warm weather will cure him. My sources say it’s too late.”

  “Shh.” Nancy squeezed Anna. “It’s almost over.”

  “We have been carried in safety through a perilous crisis,” Pierce was saying. “Wise counsels, like those which gave us the Constitution, prevailed to uphold it. Let the period be remembered as an admonition, and not as an encouragement, in any section of the Union, to make experiments where experiments are fraught with such fearful hazard. Let it be impressed upon all hearts that, beautiful as our fabric is, no earthly power or wisdom could ever reunite its broken fragments. Standing, as I do, almost within view of the green slopes of Monticello, and, as it were, within reach of the tomb of Washington, with all the cherished memories of the past gathering around me like so many eloquent voices of exhortation from heaven, I can express no better hope for my country than that the kind Providence which smiled upon our fathers may enable their children to preserve the blessings they have inherited.” He stepped back from the podium and raised his hands to wave at the assembly.

  Amid the applause, Carlotta folded her umbrella and the three women began working their way through the crowd toward Pennsylvania Avenue. “Odd that he would invoke the name of God in his speech after he refused to swear his oath on the Bible,” Carlotta said.

  “Jane must have insisted on the affirmation,” Nancy replied, referring to the new First Lady. “She is nearly mad with grief and thinks that God took Bennie from them as punishment for her husband’s acceptance of the nomination.”

  “Nearly mad?” Carlotta said. “That sounds as if she’s gone completely around the bend.”

  “I should think that there’s no pain greater than losing a child,” Anna suggested.

  “That would be especially true for poor Jane, who has already lost her other children,” Nancy added.

  Carlotta was looking up and down the street. “Where is our carriage?”

  Nancy pointed to an empty space at the curb. “I’m certain that we left it right there. The constables must have made the driver move to a park. There’s no telling which, unless we do a lot of walking, and Anna’s not dressed for that.”

  Carlotta looked both ways again. “We’re only a few blocks from the Willard. We could walk there so Anna could change into something warmer.”

  “Good idea,” Nancy said.

  “I’ll ask the concierge to send a boy to find your carriage,” Anna added. “We can have something warm to drink in the dining room while we wait.”

  “Why didn’t you dress warmer?” Nancy chided.

  “This is the only coat I brought with me from New Jersey,” Anna said. “But it’s my legs that’re cold – even though I’m wearing so many petticoats that I feel a hundred pounds heavier.”

  “Stockings and flannel drawers are the solution,” Carlotta said. “Petticoats are no help in a wind. Three pairs of long stockings and flannel drawers. That’s the ticket.”

  They had walked a little more than a block and were passing an alley between two nondescript brick buildings when a young black woman burst into the alley and ran toward the street. She was nearly halfway to the sidewalk when four men appeared and raced after her. They caught and knocked her to the ground at Carlotta’s feet.

  “Unhand that woman, you fiends.” Carlotta swung her umbrella like a bludgeon, striking at one man after the other until the umbrella began to disintegrate.

  “This ain’t no woman,” one of the men protested, covering his head. “She’s a runaway slave.”

  “I ain’t,” the woman squealed. “I is free. But they’s tryin’ to take me south and sell me.”

  Nancy had overcome her shock and started toward the fray, but she stopped suddenly to look at Anna who had pulled the hem of her dress up to clamp it under her chin while she struggled to capture her petticoats in her arms. “What in the name of God?” Nancy exclaimed.

  “I have a gun,” Anna grunted. “In my garter.” She groped toward her thigh with her right hand but her skirt and petticoats fell to her ankles again. “Help me, damn it.”

  Nancy dropped to her knees and groped under Anna’s dress, then with a squeal of triumph turned and fired a shot over the men’s heads. “Back off, you blaggards. I’m not likely to miss at this range.” She stood up slowly and aimed the Derringer at first one man and then another.

  The four men got to their feet. “You’re goin’ against the law, Ladies. This here slave is private property.”

  “I ain’t,” the woman protested.

  “We’ll call the police and let them decide,” Anna shouted at the men.

  The men looked at one another, but none spoke up.

  “That’s what I thought,” Anna said. “Get out of here or my friend is going to open fire.”

  After another moment of indecision, the spokesman stood up and trotted back down the alley with the other three men close behind him.

  “What good is a pistol if you can’t reach it when you need it?” Nancy asked.

  “About as good as one with no bullets,” Anna replied.

  “What?” Nancy looked at the little gun.

  “It’s a single shot.” Anna took the pistol back and put it in her coat pocket. “It was useless after you fired that warning.”

  Carlotta had helped the young black woman to her feet and was holding her in a tight embrace. “See if you can hail a cab. I’ll take her to my place.”

  “The Willard’s right there.” Anna pointed.

  “They’re not going to let us bring a colored girl into the Willard,” Carlotta replied.

  “Just let me go,” the girl said. “I knows a man that can get me back up north.”

  “They’ll have you as soon as we’re out of sight,” Nancy replied.

  “We’re never going to get a cab,” Anna said. “Keep walking toward the Willard and I’ll run ahead and get her some clothes.” She took off her coat and gave it to the girl. “There’s a gun in the right pocket. It’s empty but it might scare those men away if they come back.”

  ~

  It was almost midnight. Anna and Nancy were sitting cross-legged on the bed in Anna’s bedroom at the Willard playing honeymoon bridge. “One spade,” Nancy said.

  “I already bid one no trump,” Anna grumbled.

  Nancy threw her hand down. “I’m too tired to play. I quit.”

  Anna began gathering the cards. “I still don’t think I can sleep. I keep remembering how close that girl was to being sold into slavery.”

  “Would you like me to sleep here tonight instead of in my room?” Nancy asked.

  “If you don’t mind. Having you with me is always comforting.”

  Nancy got off the bed, took off her robe and turned back the bedcovers. “You know that girl was probably lying, don’t you?”

  “About what?”

  “About being free.” Nancy got into bed and pulled the blankets up to her chin. “From her manner of speech, I’d bet that she was really a runaway.”

  “It hardly matters.” Anna put the cards away and began extinguishing all the lamps.

  “It matters legally,” Nancy argued. “If she was indeed a runaway, we broke the law.”

  “I can live with it.” Anna got into bed and turned down the bedside lamp until it was little more than a glow.

  Nancy giggled.

  “What?”

  “I was thinking about Carlotta beating those men with her fancy silk umbrella.”

  Anna chuckled. “Imagine being a pedestrian walking by while you were groping under my dress.”

  Nancy cackled. “You’ll have something to tell your grandchildren.”

  “Grandchildren?”

  “Yeah. Grandchildren. Quincy’s a grown man. You could be Grandmother Anna at any given moment.”

  “What a cruel thing for you to say.”


  “Cruel but true.”

  “You’ll never be a grandmother.”

  “Thank God.”

  “Really?”

  “No,” Nancy admitted. “I wish I’d had children.”

  “It may not be too late.”

  “Who do you have in mind?”

  “My brother Robert,” Anna replied.

  “You’ve been pushing us at each other for twenty years.”

  “It was a good match twenty years ago and just as good now,” Anna said.

  “Maybe,” Nancy said after a moment.

  “Really?”

  “Good night, Anna.”

  “Good night, Nancy.”

  March 10, 1853

  Washington, D.C.

  Senator Samuel P. Rucker of Missouri shook his head. “I am very flattered, Mrs. Van Buskirk, but I am not the man that you have taken me for.”

  “Then please accept my apologies, Senator,” Anna replied.

  He looked into her eyes. “You are an extremely attractive woman. What made you stoop to such a tawdry scheme as this?”

  “I saw you here when last I visited Doña Carlotta on business and I thought… Well, I thought that we both had physical needs and no healthy way to satisfy them.”

  He sat back in his chair. “I see. Perhaps you are unaware that this establishment is a gentlemen’s club, not a bordello.”

  “Perhaps you are unaware that the upper two floors are in fact a bordello,” she said sharply.

  “That is not illegal or unusual in Washington.”

  “I suppose not.” She got to her feet. “Once again, I apologize.”

  “Wait.” He caught her wrist. “Sit down a moment. Please.”

  Anna sank back into the chair with a sigh.

  Rucker kept a gentle grip on her wrist. “Have you done this sort of thing before?”

  “Certainly not,” she said indignantly. “And I assure you that I shall never do it again. I am so utterly humiliated that I am considering putting an end to it all.”

  “There, there.” He caressed her hand. “Nothing is that bad.”

  “That’s easy for you to say.” She pouted. “You still have your dignity.”

  “I handled the situation clumsily and I regret it.”

  “It wasn’t your fault.”

  “Yes it was. To be perfectly honest with you, Mrs. Van Buskirk, I was unaware that a woman might have the same needs as a man and your comment unbalanced me momentarily. I had heard rumors, of course, but never had them confirmed by any member of the gentle sex.”

  “Oh surely a man of your intellect and experience doesn’t believe that Victorian claptrap that only men enjoy lovemaking.”

  “Well, neither of my wives enjoyed it.” He thought a moment. “Or perhaps that was my fault.”

  “They may have been hiding their enjoyment if they thought you wouldn’t approve.”

  He looked dubious. “I pray that you are incorrect.”

  “I could be. Some women have such a dread of becoming pregnant that they can find no pleasure in lovemaking, but I assure you that we innately have the same desires as men. Sometimes I simply burn for a man’s touch. His scent. His flesh against my flesh.” She shivered.

  Rucker squirmed. “Out of pure curiosity, if I had agreed, how did you plan to proceed?”

  “I have secured a private bedroom upstairs and two keys. I had planned to go up to that room, disrobe, and wait on the bed for you to join me.”

  “Disrobe?”

  “Yes. I thought that this might be the last time for me. I wanted no games of false modesty. I wanted you to see me. To explore me with your eyes, with your hands, with your lips. And then…” She extracted her hand from his, crossed her arms over her breasts and shivered again. “Forgive me. I am indeed a wanton woman.”

  “Two keys you say?”

  “Yes. One for each of us.” She took a key from her pocketbook and held it by the fob, swinging the key from side to side like a pendulum.

  His eyes followed the arch of the key. “I must admit to temptation.”

  “Then give in to it.” She caught his hand again and pressed the key into his palm. “I need ten minutes to undress. But if you want to watch, come with me now.”

  He knocked his chair over backwards getting to his feet.

  ~

  “Well?” Carlotta asked. “How was it?”

  “There’s no doubt that the pro-slavers intend to flood Kansas with immigrants from Missouri in order to influence the vote.”

  “What? I thought…”

  “Two birds with one stone.” Anna laughed.

  Carlotta shook her head. “Well then, let me repeat my original question. How was it?”

  “He takes instruction well. A few more sessions and who knows what new heights might be reached?” Anna opened her pocketbook. “I want to lease that room for a year with the option to renew.”

  “I won’t take your money.”

  “You must.”

  “Why must I?”

  “Because we need a proof that this was strictly a business arrangement in case this blows up in my face.”

  “You may not be as much fun as I’d originally expected.”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll keep you safe.”

  “If anything happens to you, who’s going to keep me safe from Marina?”

  “I’ll write and tell her what I’m doing. Mother’s big on individuals accepting responsibility for their actions. Too bad she never took her own advice.”

  March 18, 1853

  Mesilla, New Mexico

  Marina handed Josiah the letter she’d been reading. “Do you know about the Border Ruffians that are pouring into Kansas?”

  “Only what I read in the papers.”

  “Well, to gain intelligence about the Border Ruffians’ planned activities, Anna is sleeping with Senator Rucker from Missouri who’s organizing the infiltration.”

  “She’s doin’ what?” he asked incredulously.

  “She says he’s very good in bed.”

  “What?” he gasped.

  “Read her letter.” Marina pointed to the pages in his hand.

  “After what you just said I ain’t sure that I should.”

  “Then give it back.”

  “I’m readin’, I’m readin’.” He held the letter at arm’s length and then moved it closer until it was in focus.

  “She says Johnny’s in love with Caitlin Livingston,” Marina said. “He writes to her every day.”

  “I’m readin’, Marina.”

  “He’s at the top of his class.”

  Whipple looked at her. “Do you want me t’ read this or not?”

  “Read, read.”

  Whipple continued, his eyes following Anna’s tight script; his lips moving to sound out each word; his bushy eyebrows knitted in concentration. At last, he gave Anna’s letter back to Marina. “I don’t understand none of the nonsense about Bleedin’ Kansas.”

  “Horace Greeley coined the phrase ‘Bleeding Kansas’ to sell newspapers.”

  “So what is it?”

  “It’s a border war that’s broken out between pro-slavers and anti-slavers in the new western territory and in some Missouri frontier towns, east of it.”

  “I got that part.”

  She shrugged. “That’s all there is to it, Josiah. It’s a proxy war between the North and South over the issue of slavery in the United States.”

  “Slavery ain’t a new thing. What’s set off this proxy war?”

  “The proposed bill to split Nebraska will allow the citizens of each new territory to decide by popular vote if it’ll be a free or a slave state. In an effort to influence the votes, anti-slavery Free-Staters and pro-slavery Border Ruffians have already been crossing the border into Nebraska and claiming citizenship.”

  “What’s all the talk about her deliverin’ Beecher’s Bibles?”

  “Apparently Anna has befriended Harriet Beecher Stowe, the author of Uncle Tom’s Cabin. Mrs. Stowe’s brother,
a New England minister by the name of Henry Ward Beecher, is shipping Sharps rifles to Kansas in crates marked as bibles. Thus: Beecher’s Bibles. He’s got a big ministry in Brooklyn which gives him access to the factories and railroads.”

  “So, Anna’s deliverin’ guns to Kansas?”

  “Yes. She and Nancy Vreeland apparently take a load once every few months.”

  “That’s plumb loco.”

  “That’s my Anna.”

  “Reckon we oughta go there?”

  “To Kansas?”

  He nodded.

  “Wanderlust getting you down, Josiah?”

  “Maybe.”

  Marina shrugged. “Why not? Robert’s there too. We can have a family reunion.”

  “We could even stop by and say hello to Tom and Jane on the way.”

  “Maybe on the way back.”

  “Why?”

  “I’d rather travel by riverboat during the hot weather. We can come back over the Chisholm Trail in the fall.”

  “Reckon we could spend a day or two in New Orleans?”

  “What for?”

  “Just to kick up our heels and make fools of ourselves.”

  She smiled. “Yes. We could do that. You sweet man. You remembered that I said it was my favorite place.”

  “You never told me that. Must of been one of yer other fellers. When can we leave?”

  “I need to tie up a few loose ends.” Marina thought for a moment. “Is early next month soon enough?”

  “No, but I guess I can wait if you can.”

  “Have you ever seen an opera?” she asked, warming to the idea.

  “No. Have you ever seen the can-can?”

  “Yes. If you want to see ladies’ underwear, I can show you all you want.”

  “It ain’t the undies, Marina, it’s the legs and other parts in ‘em.”

  “I’ll bet I can still kick as high as those Parisian girls.”

  “Big talker.”

  “If I can deliver, can you?”

  “I think I might could.”

  “It’s a bet.”

  He grinned. “I’m already winnin’ just thinkin’ about it.”

  “Prove it.” She tossed her head toward the hallway. “In the bedroom.”