Antebellum BK 1

by Jeffry S. Hepple

  “I’m not sure if I would use the word vast, but I think she had a number of beaus before you.”

  He sat down on the edge of the bed. “Are you nervous?”

  “A little.”

  “Then let’s make this easy for you. I’ll just sit here and wait until you kiss me.”

  “Me?” she squeaked.

  “Yes. It can be anything from a peck to – something more.”

  “Oh dear.”

  “Perhaps we should start with a peck.”

  “Yes. I think that would be wise. Are you ready?”

  “I’m more ready than you can possibly imagine.”

  April 12, 1855

  West Point, New York

  Johnny Van Buskirk paced the length of his room, then turned back. “What if she doesn’t write?”

  “What if she does?” Fitzhugh Lee replied. “What will you tell Caitlin?”

  “Caitlin? Why would I tell her anything?”

  “There’s an implied understanding between you and Caitlin after more than two years. As a gentleman, if your intentions have changed, you owe her an explanation.”

  Johnny began pacing again. “Wait until you see my Kate. I could span her waist with my hands and…” He held his cupped hands a distance away from his chest. “What a pair.”

  Lee chuckled. “I’ve found that the bigger the bosoms the smaller the brain.”

  “Ah, but this girl is the exception to that rule. Kate Chase is both brilliant and buxom.”

  “It hardly matters. Ohio is very far away.”

  “Yes, but there’s train service now from New York to Columbus. That’s where she lives. And besides, her father’s popular nationally. He’ll be back in Washington before long. I guarantee it.”

  “What’s his name again?”

  “Salmon P. Chase.”

  “Salmon like the fish?”

  “No. Well, yes. It’s spelled the same.”

  “I’ve never heard of him.”

  “That’s because you don’t read newspapers. Aunt Anna mentioned him as a possible presidential candidate.”

  “Even if Mr. Chase and his daughter do return to Washington, what makes you think that we won’t get assigned to some post in the far west?”

  “Your uncle in Washington arranged for Pea and Beauty to be assigned to his regiment. Why not us?”

  “I suppose. If I asked him.”

  “Ask him.”

  “What if Miss Chase’s father doesn’t come to Washington? You might want Uncle Robert’s help in being sent to Columbus, Ohio.”

  “Yes,” Johnny agreed. “You’re right. Perhaps you should wait to ask.”

  “And then again, she may never write to you.”

  “She will,” Johnny said. “We were made for each other.”

  “That’s what you were saying about Caitlin last week.”

  “I know. But that was before I knew what true love really was. This is it. Katherine Jane Chase is the girl for me.”

  May 21, 1855

  Utah Territory

  Clementine crawled to the rear of the wagon, climbed over the tailgate and jumped down into the cold, dew-dampened blow sand. “If you’re awake don’t look,” she said to the pile of blankets under the wagon. “It’s too cold and too dangerous to go find a bush.” She pulled her nightdress above her hips and squatted next to the outside rear wheel to urinate. The still invisible sun was painting the eastern sky with broad strokes of pink, yellow and orange. “It’ll be sunup soon,” Clementine said. “Might as well get a fire started.” She stood up and smoothed her nightdress over her legs, then bent down again to look under the wagon. “Did you hear me, Coyote?”

  The blankets shifted and a pair of black eyes blinked at her from the depths.

  “What’s the matter?” She giggled. “Did watching me pee give you a boner?”

  “You should not say such things,” the boy grumbled.

  “Whenever you get finished with what you’re doin’, get a fire started.” She climbed back over the tailgate and began dressing.

  Jack was half dressed and pulling on his boot. “You shouldn’t tease that boy.”

  “Why not? You keep telling me that he’s completely trustworthy.”

  “It isn’t a matter of trusting him; it’s a matter of kindness to him. Anyone can see that he’s desperately smitten with you. It’s cruel of you to ridicule him.”

  “Okay,” she said with a sigh. “But he deserved some deviling for looking when I asked him not to. I had a good reason for wanting to stay near the wagons. I didn’t do it to tease him.”

  “You’re right. He should have turned away. I’ll speak to him about it.”

  “No. Don’t do that. It would embarrass the fool out of him. Just let it be. No harm done. He’s not the first man to see my bare ass.”

  Jack looked at her for several seconds. “If you’re suddenly feeling generous toward the boy, you might reconsider letting him ride in the wagon, if only until we get through this soft sand. He has a bad blister on his right foot.”

  “Okay,” she said, after a beat.

  “Really?”

  “Yes, really. Don’t push it.” She pulled on her calf-high boot and kicked the tailgate to force her foot in all the way. “This is a strange country. Hot as Hell in the daytime and freezing cold at night.”

  “High deserts are like that.”

  “This dang sand sure is slowing us down.”

  “Yes,” he agreed. “It wasn’t marked on the maps.”

  “Have you given any more thought to going directly to Fort Laramie?”

  “There’s nothing to think about,” Jack growled. “I’m going to see the Tetons, even if I have to go alone.”

  “Now don’t get so scratchy. I just asked.”

  “You asked as a way to register your disapproval, knowing full well that I wasn’t even considering going directly to Fort Laramie.”

  “I can’t get anything by you, can I?”

  “The real question is: why do you try?”

  She pulled on her other boot. “If I’d approached the subject more directly, would it have resulted any differently?”

  “No.”

  “Then it hardly matters, does it?”

  “Probably not.” He climbed over her and vaulted off the tailgate. “Let’s go, Coyote. Time’s wasting. You’ll be riding in the wagon today with Mrs. Van Buskirk.”

  ~

  The sun was almost at its zenith and the day was very hot. Clementine was driving the team; the boy called Coyote was sitting beside her. “What kind of name is Coyote?” she asked.

  “You people who have names that mean nothing find great importance in the names of others,” he observed.

  “My husband says that the coyote is one of your heathen gods that plays tricks on people.”

  “I am not a god or a trickster.”

  “How old are you?”

  He shrugged.

  “Sixteen – maybe seventeen, would be my guess.”

  Another shrug.

  “How did you end up in California?”

  “When I was very small some men killed my mother and took me and my sisters to California to sell us as slaves to the rich Mexicans. I got away.”

  “What happened to your sisters?”

  He shrugged.

  “Damn. Havin’ a conversation with you is like talking to a wall.”

  “I can walk, if you want. I walked all the way to California when I was not as tall as your boots. I can walk all the way back.”

  “You might as well ride. The horses won’t notice your scrawny ass.”

  He didn’t reply.

  “Jack’s mother’s Indian. Or Mexican. I’m not sure which is which.”

  “He told me.”

  “Did he tell you that his brother married a half Indian girl? She’s Montauk. Montauks don’t look like our Indians out here.”

  “Our Indians?”

  “You know what I mean. Indians west of the Mississippi.”
/>   “Can you read?”

  “What?”

  “I asked you if you could read.”

  “What’s that got to do with what we were talking about?”

  “Nothing. Can you read?”

  “Yeah, I can read. Pretty well. I don’t write so well. It takes a lot of practice and I never had the time. Why?”

  “I thought you might want to teach me.”

  “To read? Why would I want to do that?”

  He shrugged.

  “How is Jack doing with his Indian studies?”

  “He already knows the Old Language; he just has to learn how to say the words in Sioux, and he learns very fast.”

  “He’s got a gift for languages. He must get it from his mother. She speaks every language in the world.”

  He looked at her dubiously.

  “What?” she asked.

  “No one can speak every language in the world.”

  “Well she speaks a lot of ‘em. French, Spanish, Comanche, Apache, Kiowa – even Latin.”

  “You admire her?”

  “Yeah. Why is that so surprising?”

  “You don’t like Indians.”

  “I like some. Not all.”

  Coyote pointed ahead. “The outriders have seen something.”

  Two mounted men had joined Jack at the front of the column. Both were gesturing back in the direction from which they had ridden.

  “There’s a shotgun under the seat, do you know how to use it?” Clementine asked.

  “Yes.”

  After a short conversation, the riders went out again and Jack signaled the wagon train to prepare to circle.

  “What’s wrong?” Clementine shouted at Jack.

  “No need for alarm,” he answered. “This is as good a place as any. Start your turn now.”

  “No need for alarm,” she muttered. “Why would we be forming a circle if there wasn’t trouble?”

  Coyote was peering at the horizon. “Many horses.”

  “Horses or mounted men?”

  “Men on horses.”

  “Must not be hostiles,” Clementine replied. “The outriders are headed toward them.”

  To avoid one another’s dust, the wagons were spread abreast in a wide, uneven line, so circling the train was not a fast or trivial matter. Clementine, in the designated lead wagon, began turning her team left in what would be a large circle, and the other wagons began to line up behind her. When all the wagons were in line, she would begin to tighten the circle until her team was close to the last wagon in the train.

  When Clementine finally reined in her horses, most of the livestock had been herded into the center of the circle. She set the brake, tied the reins to it, and jumped down. “Are you gonna tell us what’s going on, Jack?”

  He waved at her and rode past. “No need for alarm,” he shouted. “No need for alarm.”

  “Shit,” she said.

  “You say that word a lot,” Coyote observed from the wagon.

  “So what?”

  “Not very ladylike.”

  “What the hell do you know about how white ladies should behave?”

  He shrugged.

  “Can you see those riders yet?”

  “I can see that they are white men.”

  “Army?”

  “Yes, but not the blue-coat army.”

  “Come on. Let’s go see what Jack has to say.” Clementine waited for Coyote to jump down, then she started toward the center of the circle where a crowd was forming. “Give me that shotgun. You’ll upset people if they see you carrying it.”

  He handed her the weapon.

  Jack climbed up on the back of a nearby wagon. “Can everyone hear me? Tighten up a little. Okay. As I said, there’s no cause for alarm but there is a minor inconvenience.” He pointed toward the group of riders that were now quickly approaching. “That’s the Mormon Militia. They want us to follow them to their city near the Great Salt Lake.”

  “What for?” someone shouted.

  Jack checked on the progress of the riders. “The Governor of this territory is a man named Brigham Young. Some say he’s a prophet, some say he’s off in the head, but everyone agrees that he’s an autocratic leader.”

  “Meanin’ what?” a man asked.

  “Meaning that if we don’t agree, we may have a fight on our hands,” Jack replied.

  “Them damn Mormons will steal our young women,” a man at the back shouted. “Brigham Young has two dozen wives and he’s lookin’ for more.”

  “The Mormons believe in what they call Plural Marriage,” Jack agreed. “But I’ve never heard of them kidnapping women.”

  “Well, I ain’t takin’ the chance,” the same voice replied.

  “Agreeing to a small detour and a few days delay is less risky than a fight,” a woman replied.

  Jack looked over his shoulder. “There’s no time for a debate. Let’s have a show of hands. Who’s in favor of the detour?”

  “Wait,” a man toward the front called out. “Do we have to abide by majority rule?”

  “No,” Jack said. “I’ll abide by the majority decision. Everyone else can do as they please, but I think we should know what everyone thinks.”

  “Shit,” Clementine grumbled.

  Coyote looked at her but didn’t comment.

  June 3, 1855

  Columbus, Ohio

  In 1853, the Columbus and Xenia Railroad and the Cleveland, Columbus and Cincinnati Railroad built Union Station on the east side of High Street just north of North Public Lane. Three seedy hotels had sprung up nearby, the seediest being the Union Hotel. “Can I help you?” the desk clerk asked. He was wearing a sweat-stained shirt with no suit coat and his tie was gravy-stained.

  “My nephew may have checked in here last night,” Anna said. She put a gold coin on the desk. “He’s seventeen, tall and may be wearing a West Point cadet’s uniform.”

  “Two-ten.” The man pocketed the coin and pointed to the stairs.

  “Is anyone with him?”

  The man nodded. “Some snooty girl.”

  Anna crossed the lobby and raised the hem of her dress to climb the stairs. The second-floor hallway smelled like urine. Room number 210 was the last on the right. She took a deep breath and knocked.

  “Who is it?” Johnny’s voice sounded frightened.

  “Your Aunt Anna,” she answered. “I know that Kate’s with you. Let me in.”

  A moment later, the door opened. “We’ve done nothing wrong,” Johnny said.

  “Are you married?” Anna pushed him back into the room, then closed the door behind her.

  “No,” Kate replied. She was standing near the small window with her arms folded belligerently. “According to Ohio law we’re not old enough. But we’re going to Kentucky tomorrow where the law is less strict.”

  Anna wrinkled her nose in distaste. “Could you have found a worse place than this to stay?”

  “It seemed unlikely that Senator Chase would search for us here,” Johnny said. “How did you find us?”

  “This seemed like an unlikely place for Senator Chase to look for you,” Anna replied.

  “I’m not going home,” Kate announced emphatically. “I want a life of my own.”

  Anna looked at the rickety chair, then the bed and decided to remain standing. “I know how difficult it will be for you to be the Governor’s hostess at your age, Kate, but life isn’t always fair.”

  “That’s not the point,” Johnny said.

  “Really?” Anna looked him in the eyes. “Whose idea was it to get married?”

  He squirmed. “Well…”

  Anna nodded. “Kate’s so desperate to escape from her obligations…”

  “That’s not true,” Kate shouted. “I love Johnny and I want to be his wife.”

  “Even if it costs him his chosen career?” Anna asked.

  Johnny waved his hand. “I only accepted the appointment to West Point because Father wanted it.”

  “I’m going to have a b
aby,” Kate blurted.

  Anna looked at her for a moment, then turned back to fix Johnny with a baleful stare. “Is that true?”

  He shook his head. “No.”

  “It is true,” Kate insisted. “And you’re the father.”

  “I told you that you cannot get pregnant from French kissing,” Johnny said angrily.

  “But I haven’t…” Kate blushed. “My friend hasn’t visited me for two months.”

  “Nerves,” Anna said. “Moving from Washington to Columbus has been very stressful for you. I’ll explain it to you later.” She looked from one to the other. “If I thought this was right for either of you I’d take you to Kentucky and see you married properly.”

  “But we love each other,” Kate insisted.

  Anna nodded. “And I don’t doubt that in the least. My question is whether you’ll still love each other next summer after your father’s been sworn in as Governor, Johnny has his commission and you’ll be old enough to legally marry.”

  Kate covered her face with her hands. “I hate the way they look at me.”

  “Who?” Johnny asked.

  “Never mind that.” Anna crossed the room and put her arm around Kate. “I’m going to visit Columbus as often as possible this summer to teach you how to manage your father’s business and social affairs.”

  “What?” Johnny said. “Anna. You can’t do this to me.”

  “I’m not doing anything to you, Nephew; I’m doing it for you. And Senator Chase has extended an invitation for you to visit Kate. You will, of course, be chaperoned. But not so closely as to prevent a few stolen kisses.”

  “Bloody hell,” Johnny grumbled.

  Anna could see the relief in his face. “Come along, Children. The stink of this place is about to make me ill.” She led Kate from the room by the hand with Johnny following close behind.

  June 3, 1855

  Salt Lake City, Utah Territory

  Unlike other western towns that had sprung up like weeds in a haphazard fashion, Salt Lake City was being built to a master plan. The walled, ten-acre Temple Square, containing the massive sandstone foundation blocks of the future Temple of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, dominated the city’s center. Around it, neat wood-frame and masonry buildings were aligned with cobblestone roads, gutters and sidewalks. Two narrow streams meandered prettily through the town to the nearby Jordan River which flowed northwest to the Great Salt Lake.