“That’s enough,” Clementine said. “Those men raped me and I killed them for it.”
“No,” Jack said. “Clem.” He took her elbow. “Damn it. No. We agreed.”
She pulled free and waved him away like an annoying fly. “I’m not going to let the law hound you over what I did.” She looked at the Deputy. “Am I under arrest?”
“Yes, Ma’am. I have a warrant here.” He took it from inside his coat and offered it to her.
“Give it to my husband,” she said with a wave of her hand.
The deputy gave the warrant to Jack. “The charge is eight counts of murder in the first degree. You’re charged as an accessory. Please come with me to the Provost Martial’s office.”
October 23, 1855
Fort Leavenworth, Kansas
As Clementine was led from the courtroom in shackles, Robert helped Jack sit down. “Just take a deep breath, Jack.”
“Twenty years,” Jack whispered. He looked stunned.
“We’ll appeal,” Anna said.
“If there had been a woman on that jury she’d be free,” Nancy said angrily.
“A district judge and a small-town jury would have acquitted her too,” Robert agreed. “But since it happened on Federal Land…”
“We’ll appeal,” Anna repeated, before Robert could finish.
“How could the jury consider it as premeditated?” Jack asked in a bewildered tone.
Robert decided it was wiser not to answer. “Let’s go home and talk about it there, Jack.” He took his brother’s arm and helped him to his feet. “We’ll go out the back way and avoid the newspaper reporters.”
“There won’t be any in front,” Anna said. “They’re all covering John Brown’s speech.”
“Let’s go out the back anyway,” Robert said. He gave Anna a warning glance.
Nancy leaned close to Anna and whispered in her ear. “He doesn’t want Jack to see them taking Clementine to the prison in chains.”
Anna nodded. “This is all my fault,” she whispered back to Nancy.
“Your fault? How?” Nancy stopped and let Robert and Jack go on.
“That judge is pro-slavery and he did it to hurt me.”
Nancy looked doubtful.
“After he instructed the jury on how to interpret the definition of first-degree murder, the jury had no choice.”
“You have a point, but he could have sentenced Clementine to hang. Twenty years is harsh, but it could have been much worse. An appeal…”
“I’m going to bypass Clementine’s lawyer and go straight to Washington,” Anna interrupted.
“Washington?” Nancy looked bewildered. “What for?”
“To see if I can get Judge Cadwalader to overturn the verdict. He’s a Free-Stater and he hates Governor Shannon.”
“Can he do that? Overturn a verdict by a Kansas judge?”
“Yes. He could then be overturned by the Supreme Court some time later but I seriously doubt that they’d hear it, given the circumstances.”
“What if he says no?”
“I’ll find another Federal judge with Territorial jurisdiction and convince him.”
“I’ll come with you,” Nancy said after a moment.
“I may not have your looks but those judges are old men. I can still charm an old man.”
“That’s not what I meant,” Nancy grumbled.
“It doesn’t matter. You’re needed here. John Brown is crazy as a bedbug. If he’s not contained he’ll do more harm than good.”
“I can’t contain John Brown. He’s marching to his own drummer.”
“You should stay anyway. Robert needs you.”
Nancy sighed. “There’s nothing important happening between Robert and me, Anna. We’ve become friends and that’s all.”
“You could change that any night after the house is asleep.”
“Forget that. I’m not going to sneak into his bedroom and jump in bed with him.”
“Why not?”
“Well, for starters, I’m a sapphist.”
“Bullshit. You’ve only taken up a cause and you’re afraid that sleeping with my brother would somehow be disloyal to the sisters.”
“That’s just not true.”
“Prove it to me.”
“How?”
“Knock on his bedroom door tonight, then tell me you’re a sapphist in the morning.”
“Will you listen to yourself, Anna?”
Anna sighed. “Nancy, I love you more than anyone in the whole world and I know you better than you know yourself. You and Robert were made for each other.”
“So you’ve been saying since we were twelve.”
“It’s been true since we were twelve, but you were always attracted to the wild types, like my brother William – and then you were disappointed when they turned out to be undependable.”
“I’m not going to sleep with Robert and that’s final.”
“Okay. I tried.” She pointed at the back door. “Catch up to them. I’m going to book passage home on the fastest possible steamer.”
November 22, 1855
Lawrence, Kansas
Nancy Vreeland pushed the yellow Western Union form across the counter. “I need this sent right away.”
The telegrapher read the message, then looked up at her. “Say, you’re not AM VB,” he said in an accusing tone. “I know AM VB. Anna Van Buskirk’s her whole name.”
“I’m filing a story for Anna Van Buskirk with her newspaper.” Nancy pointed. “See? It’s going to The New York Times.”
The telegrapher shook his head. “I can’t send a message that’s signed by somebody who claims to be somebody else.”
“Why not?”
“It’s a company rule.”
Nancy bit back an impulsive reply and continued in a reasoning tone. “I’m not claiming to be Anna Van Buskirk, sir. I’m identifying the source of the information. A.M. Van Buskirk is a byline, not a person’s name. AM VB is an identifier.”
“The rule says I gotta verify the sender’s identity.”
“You know who I am. You’ve seen me here with Anna a dozen times.”
“That’s not what the rule means.”
She was struggling to maintain her temper. “This makes no sense at all.”
“Well just sign your own name and be done with it.”
“The telegraph clerk at the newspaper in New York doesn’t know me,” Nancy argued. “The message might get thrown away or misdirected.”
He shook his head. “Can’t send it.”
“Can you send it if I sign it Nancy V for AM VB?”
“I’ll have to charge you for the extra letters.”
“Fine. Fine. That’s just fine.” She took a deep breath. “Read it back to me, please.”
“Okay. Let’s see. ‘Pro-Slavery Mister Franklin N. Coleman who is alleged killer of Free-Stater Mister Charles W. Dow surrenders to Territorial Governor Shannon.’” He looked up at Nancy. “If you’d leave out who is, abbreviate mister, territorial and governor you’d save yourself a heap.”
“No. That’s the form the editor insists upon. All individuals must be identified and all titles must be included and spelled out.”
“Including mister?”
“Yes.”
“Okay.” He shook his head. “It’s your money. Let’s see. Where was I? Okay, here. ‘Stop. Key witness who is Free-Stater arrested by Territorial Legislature appointed Sheriff Samuel J. Jones. Stop. Bond is set impossibly high.’” He looked at Nancy again. “Too high would say the same thing as impossibly high.”
“I appreciate your concern but impossibly high is more accurate.”
“I don’t see how?”
“Please.”
“Okay, okay. Let’s see. ‘Stop. Key witness was rescued by Free-State company. Stop.’”
“Wait. Please change that to ‘Key witness was rescued by a company of Free-State men.’”
“That’s a lot more words.”
“I’ll pay.�
��
“You could just say Free-Staters.”
“I’ll pay for the extra words and extra letters.”
“Okay. It’s your money. ‘Key witness was rescued by a company of Free-State men. Stop. Governor has mobilized all forces and has requested three thousand reinforcements from Missouri. Stop. War seems imminent. Stop. Nancy V for AM VB.’”
“Good. How much is that?”
“Let’s see.” He shook his head sadly as he counted. “Four dollars and nine cents. I warned you.”
Nancy pushed five silver dollars across the counter. “Keep the change.”
“I can’t do that. The company don’t allow it.”
“Then please give it to someone else.”
He looked at the coins.
“You’ll send that right away?”
“Yup.” He put a dollar in his pocket.
“Thank you.” She hurried outside, then crossed the street to the boarding house. Robert, wearing civilian clothes, was sitting at a table in the dining room. “That telegrapher is insufferable, Robert. He should be fired,” she said.
Robert stood up and pulled out her chair for her. “That’s his position of power.”
She sat down and let him push in her chair. “What do you mean?”
“He’s an unimportant man in an unimportant job. Making life difficult for others makes him feel self-important.” Robert reclaimed his chair. “Tea?”
“I’ll pour.”
“Nothing from Anna, I gather?”
She shook her head.
“Looks bad.”
“Never give up on Anna,” Nancy said. “She never gives up on anything until she gets her way.”
“Can I ask you a personal question?”
Nancy almost spilled her tea. “Of course.”
“How do you make a living?”
Nancy giggled. “Oh my. I thought it was going to really be personal.”
He shrugged.
“My father’s estate provides me with a substantial income,” she said.
“I thought your father was still alive.”
“My father died when I was ten and my mother remarried less than a year later. Her husband has been on his deathbed for months, but the bastard’s too inconsiderate to do everyone a favor and die.”
“Oh.” Robert took a moment to regain his train of thought. “Does Anna reimburse you for the expenses you incur on her behalf?”
“I don’t need it. I never spend even half of my monthly allowance.”
“Still, you shouldn’t be spending your money for her business.”
Nancy looked puzzled. “What’s this sudden concern about money?”
“I don’t want my sister taking advantage of my future wife.”
Nancy choked on her tea, knocked over her cup and groped for her napkin.
“Not the reaction I’d hoped for,” Robert said.
It took some time for Nancy to recover enough to reply. “Do I have anything to say about this?”
“No.” He signaled the waiter. “We have a spill here.”
“How mortifyingly clumsy.” She blotted up tea, then moved back to give the waiter room.
Robert waited until the tablecloth had been changed and the settings replaced. “You can say no, but please don’t.”
She looked him in the eyes. “I won’t say no, but I won’t say yes until we’ve been to bed together a few times.”
He chuckled. “I thought the whole idea of…”
She raised her hand to stop him. “I lost my virginity and my innocence when I was eleven.” She leaned closer to him. “I like you, Robert. I like you a lot. I always have. But if we’re not good in bed together, we’ll never be more than friends. Okay?”
“Okay.”
“No argument?”
“No. It makes sense. But… It makes sense.”
“Good. Pay for our tea. My landlady is an old prig. We’ll have to use your hotel room.”
“Now?”
“Why not? You might as well see the woman you’ve proposed to naked in broad daylight.”
“Waiter?” Robert raised his hand. “Check, please.”
December 1, 1855
Lawrence, Kansas
Samuel J. Jones, sheriff of Douglas County, pounded on the hotel room door. “I know you’re in there, Colonel Van Buskirk. Don’t make me bust this door down.”
The door opened violently and Robert Van Buskirk pushed the muzzle of his pistol into the sheriff’s surprised face. “Go away.” Robert was wearing only a pair of unbuttoned trousers.
Jones staggered backward. “I got orders from the Governor to…”
“I don’t care about your orders or the Governor. My orders come from Washington and neither you nor the citizens of Lawrence will get any U.S. troops. I’m not involved. Is that perfectly clear?” He pushed with the pistol.
Jones backed up until he bumped into the door of the room across the hall. “You’re involved whether you like it or not. We’ve got this whole town surrounded. We can hold it under siege or destroy it.”
“I’m here on my honeymoon. Besiege Lawrence or destroy it as you will. But I’ll kill the next man that disturbs me and my bride.” He slammed the door, locked it and propped a chair against it.
Nancy was sitting up in bed with a pillow covering her bare breasts. “Maybe we should find another hotel in another town.”
“I’ve got orders to stay here and monitor the situation.” He put his pistol on the nightstand and dropped his trousers. “What were we doing before we were so rudely interrupted?”
She tossed the pillow on the floor and held out her arms to him. “We were making up for all the lost years that we didn’t spend together. I think we’re caught up to about 1840.”
Robert started to reach for her but stopped short when someone knocked on the door. “Shit.”
“Colonel Van Buskirk,” a man called through the door. “This is United States Congressman James Henry Lane.”
“Double shit.” Robert sat down on the edge of the bed and began pulling on his pants.
“I’ll go.” Nancy bounded out of bed, ran naked to the door, kicked the chair out of the way and swung the door open just far enough to peek around it. “Yes.”
“Uh, Ma’am. I’m sorry to intrude on your honeymoon, but the situation here is desperate. The town is about to erupt in violence. This hotel will be a primary target for cannon fire.”
“Thank you for telling us. Good bye.” She started to push the door closed but the congressman blocked it with his foot. Nancy peeked out again. “You are being a pest, sir.”
“We need the army,” Lane said. “I am ordering your husband to mobilize the troops at Fort Leavenworth.”
“Tell him that he’s a civilian and that I just told Sheriff Jones that I don’t take orders from civilians,” Robert shouted.
“My husband says that he doesn’t take orders from civilians,” Nancy said.
“There are five thousand Pro-Slavery men out there,” Lane insisted. “We have only eight hundred Free-Staters to defend this town and the people in it.”
“Your men are armed with Sharps rifles,” Robert answered. “Sheriff Jones knows that and he knows that you have cannon. He might probe a bit with skirmishers, but he’s not going to attack. In a few days, the Governor will send a negotiating party. When he does, I advise you to make peace and let the people of Lawrence go on with their business.”
“Are you just going to layup here in this hotel room forever?” Lane challenged angrily.
“Not forever,” Robert replied, “but for another fifteen years, at least.”
“What?”
Nancy pulled the door open and stepped toward Lane. When he fell back in shock, she slammed the door. “Where were we?”
“1840,” Robert chuckled and pointed to Nancy’s breasts. “I never knew that those things could back a man up as quickly as a six-shooter.”
“The direction men go depends upon how they’re used.” Nancy was ha
lfway back to the bed when there was another knock on the door. “What?” she shouted.
“Telegram for Mrs. Van Buskirk,” a timid male voice replied.
Nancy looked confused. “She’s not here.”
“Yes she is,” Robert called. “Slip it under the door and see the desk clerk for your tip, please.”
Nancy went back to the door and knelt to retrieve the telegram. “Why did you tell him that…” She laughed as she read the form. “Mrs. Nancy Van Buskirk. That’s me.”
“I know. Who’s it from?”
“Anna.” She tore it open. “Congratulations, Sister. Tell Jack good news coming soon. Love, Anna.”
“Get back in bed,” Robert said.
She shook her head. “We need to tell Jack.”
Robert reached over his head and pounded on the wall. “Jack?”
“What?” came a muted reply.
“Did you hear that?”
“No. I’m trying not to hear.”
Robert chuckled. “Anna says to expect good news soon.”
“That’s all?”
“Yeah.”
“She didn’t say when?”
“No.”
“Thanks.”
Nancy’s eyes were wide. “Why didn’t you tell me he could hear us?” she whispered.
Robert shook his head. “It didn’t occur to me that you didn’t know.”
“How long has he been over there?”
“He’s gone nearly mad over Clementine. I had to argue with him to get him to act as my best man. I don’t think he’s left his room since we came back from the church.”
“For God’s sake, Robert. With all the moaning and squealing I’ve been doing – he must think I’m depraved.”
“Don’t worry about it. He’s used to it. Clementine’s a real screamer and so was....”
“What?”
“Clementine screams when – you know.”
Nancy covered her face with her hands, then peeked through her fingers. “Are you going to tell me how you know that?”
“When they first got married we shared the little house on Thomas’s ranch. She used to wake me up three or four times a night.”
“How utterly humiliating.”
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