“I see.” She took a deep breath. “Thank you.”
She hurried back to her office and found Blair pacing. “The President is in the Cabinet Room. I’ll take you.”
“I know the way.”
“He’s not expecting you, sir. It would be best if I announced you.”
“It’s unnecessary.”
“There should be some formal protocol when seeking to speak to the President of the United States, even when the seeker is a trusted and valued advisor who was instrumental in his being elected.”
Blair cleared his throat. “Yes. Of course. You’re quite right, Anna. Quite right. Lead on.”
Anna led the way to the Cabinet Room, then knocked on the closed door.
“Come in,” Lincoln called.
Anna opened the door just wide enough to stand in it, blocking Blair’s view of and access to the room. “Mr. President, Mr. Blair is here to see you.” She used hand gestures to indicate that she wanted to be included.
Lincoln was seated at the head of the long table. “I’m always happy to see Mr. Blair. Could you stay please, Anna? There’s a matter of some importance that I must discuss with you when Mr. Blair is finished.”
“Yes, sir. Of course.” She opened the door all the way and stepped aside.
Blair burst through the door and charged toward the President. “Will you give up the fort?”
Lincoln had started to rise and offer his hand to Blair, but sat back down and tapped the small stack of paper. “The majority of the Cabinet seems to favor it.”
“It would be treason to surrender Sumter, sir. Such a step would irrevocably lose this Administration the public confidence.”
Lincoln folded his big hands on the table. “Would you have us invade the South?”
“Acquiescence to secession is recognition of its constitutionality.”
“General Scott advises me that we cannot reinforce or resupply Fort Sumter by sea, and that it would take a large invading army to do so by land.”
“Scott is fat, timid and senile. I believe that you are under the influence of Seward. That man has never known what the words principle and firmness mean. If you abandon Sumter, you will be impeached.”
“That’s enough,” Anna said, pointing her finger at the old man. “You forget yourself, sir. You are speaking to the President of the United States.”
Blair seemed surprised by her vehemence for a moment, but then he nodded and left the room without another word.
Anna closed the door and put her back against it. “I’m sorry, Mr. President. I shouldn’t have brought him.”
“On the contrary. I’m glad you did. I knew that was coming and now it’s over.”
“Thank you, Mr. President.”
“Thank you, Anna.” He took the next statement off the pile.
Anna went out and closed the door. Blair was gone.
March 15, 1861
Arlington, Virginia
It was a warm, springlike day. Jeb Stuart, Fitz Lee and the Van Buskirk brothers were standing on the porch of Arlington House as Robert E. Lee climbed the steps and accepted a cool drink from one of the house slaves. “You gentlemen look as if you’re expecting bad news.” He sat down and crossed his legs. “Please. Take your seats.” He waited for the four to sit. “I have been appointed Colonel of the First Regiment of United States Cavalry. My Colonelcy is signed by the new President, Abraham Lincoln. I am authorized to offer you positions within my regiment, should you wish them.”
“What if Virginia secedes?” Fitz Lee asked.
“Then I will no longer be Colonel of the First Regiment of United States Cavalry,” Colonel Lee replied.
“What are they waiting for?” Stuart complained.
“For cooler heads to prevail, I should hope,” Lee replied. “I can anticipate no greater calamity for the country than dissolution of the Union.”
“But you said that you would resign if Virginia secedes,” Fitz insisted. “Would you fight on the side of Virginia if war comes?”
“I shall never bear arms against the Union,” Lee said, “but it may be necessary for me to carry a musket in the defense of my native state, Virginia. In which case I shall not prove recreant to my duty.”
Fitz turned to Johnny. “What about you?”
“Me?” Johnny laughed. “I’m a Texan, not a Virginian.”
“Enough of this theoretical talk of Virginia’s secession,” Lee said in a mild tone. “It is my fervent hope that such a heartbreaking event will never come to pass.”
April 15, 1861
Amsterdam, Kingdom of the Netherlands
The young woman walked to the counter and smiled. “Kan ik u helpen?”
“Do you speak English?”
“Yes, of course,” she said, holding the smile.
“I was told that you – that is, the Kingdom – had a special program for black Americans who had no citizenship.”
“Yes.” She selected a form from a bin on the counter and looked up with her pen poised. “Your name, please.”
“Samuel Abraham Van Buskirk.”
“Your age and date of birth?”
“Uh – I’m thirty-five. My birthday was December 15th, 1825.”
“You were born where?”
“Essex County, New Jersey, in the United States of America.”
“Citizenship is none.” She checked a box. “Your mother’s name?”
“Georgia Anna Van Buskirk.”
“Your father’s name?”
“I’m illegitimate. Marriage between white and black is against the law in most of the United States.”
“This I know. Do you have your father’s name?”
“I know it, but I don’t use it.”
“His name and occupation, please.”
“John Dekker. Deceased. He was a lawyer and a congressman from New Jersey.”
“Do you have any formal acknowledgement of his parental acceptance – what you say?”
“I know what you mean and the answer is no. A white man could be prosecuted for fathering a child with a woman of color in America. Any acknowledgement in writing could be a death warrant.”
“This too, I know. One moment, please.” She took the form to a man seated in a glass-enclosed office, then came back after a brief conversation. “Have you any official identification?”
“I have a birth certificate from Essex County in New Jersey.” He searched in his briefcase. “It has the State seal, but it shows my father as unknown.” He found it and gave it to her.
“It shows your mother as you said: Georgia Anna Van Buskirk?” she asked, scanning the form.
“Yes.” He leaned across the counter and pointed to the line. “There.”
“She came by this Van Buskirk surname how?”
“It’s a slave name. Do you know what that means?”
“Yes, this I know. Was she or is she now a slave?”
“No. She was born free. Her grandmother was a slave.”
“The grandmother was the slave of a Dutch citizen?”
Samuel shifted his feet uncomfortably. “He was American. I don’t know anything else. Is that a problem?”
The woman shook her head. “She is living now, your mother?”
“Yes. She’s still living.”
“This is your mother’s still legal name? Van Buskirk? Spelled like this? With the upper letter V?”
“Yes. That’s her legal name. It’s the name on her birth certificate. She owns property and pays taxes under that name.”
“One moment, please.” Once again, she took the document to the man in the glass office. He looked at the certificate and nodded, then the woman returned. “We can certify you as a Dutch citizen.”
“You can?” Samuel asked in gleeful surprise.
“Yes. Under the relaxed anti-slavery law, your mother’s Dutch surname is sufficient. Come back tomorrow and I will have your documents.”
“There’s one more thing,” Samuel said. “I’m hesitant to ask, b
ut would it be possible to change my name legally?”
“What is the reason?”
“As you know, the name Van Buskirk is a slave name. I’d like to have a name of my own. I want to get married some day and maybe have children. My slave name might enable the American government to put my children in chains.”
“Yes, yes. So sad.” He started to add something but she stopped him with a wave of her hand. “Your reason is sufficient.” She selected another form. “What would you change it to?”
“Lincoln. Like the President. Samuel Abraham Lincoln.”
“Samuel Abraham Lincoln.” She wrote it out in block letters. “It will take another day or two. A magistrate must approve the name change. When you come in tomorrow to collect your citizenship papers, we will set the appointment. After that, the citizenship papers will be amended. Not to worry. There will be no difficulty. It will take only a few days.”
“Thank you,” Samuel said, trying to hide his bubbling emotions.
The woman smiled and offered her hand, then shook Samuel’s hand once, very vigorously and released it.
He giggled girlishly, then blushed and choked back a sob. “Thank you.” He wiped at his eyes furiously. “I’m so sorry.”
A tear rolled down the woman’s face. “God bless you, Meneer Lincoln.”
Like a man in a dream, Samuel left the office, walked down the stairs and out into the street where a pretty young blonde woman was waiting anxiously. “I’m Dutch, Tabitha,” he said, taking her in his arms. “Can you believe it? I’m a Dutchman. I have a country.”
April 17, 1861
Washington, D.C.
Robert E. Lee crossed the Square from the White House and turned up the walkway of Blair House.
Francis Blair Sr. was waiting for Lee in the library and crossed the room to shake his hand. “Thank you for coming. Please have a seat.”
Lee sat down.
“I’m told that you have refused a commission as Major General,” Blair said, taking the chair across from Lee.
Lee nodded. “In view of Virginia’s secession, I have just come from the White House where I tendered my resignation from the Army of the United States to General Scott and the President.”
“I cannot understand how a patriot such as you could side with a secessionist movement.”
“Mr. Blair, I look upon secession as anarchy. If I owned the four millions of slaves in the South, I would sacrifice them all to the Union; but how can I draw my sword upon Virginia, my native State?”
“What if General Scott was to retire? What if you were offered his position as General-in-Chief?”
“Forgive me for failing to make myself clear, Mr. Blair. I will not ever take up arms against Virginia. Never.” He shook his head emphatically.
“You will live to regret that decision, Colonel.”
“Perhaps,” Lee agreed. “But the decision is made and I shall not change my mind.”
~
Arlington, Virginia
Colonel Robert E. Lee faced his troops. “In view of Virginia’s decision to become the eighth state to secede from the Union, I have this day resigned my commission in the Army of the United States. Some of you may wish to remain with this United States Army unit; others may choose to follow me to Richmond. Please consider your decision carefully. I have been honored to be your commanding officer.” He took off his hat and bowed.
“Well,” Jeb Stuart said as the regiment began to break into groups. “The fat’s in the fire. Guess it’s time to sign our resignation papers.”
“I’m staying with the First Cavalry, Beauty,” Paul said. “It’s to be absorbed into a second corps. Rumor has it that John Buford will take command.”
Stuart gaped. “You can’t mean it.”
Paul shrugged. “I’m a lieutenant in the United States Army and I intend to stay one.”
Stuart turned to Johnny. “You too?”
Johnny shook his head. “Guess I’ll go with you, Beauty.”
“Well damn,” Stuart said. “That’s not at all what I expected.”
May 28, 1861
Van Buskirk Point, New Jersey
Abraham Van Buskirk was standing in the kitchen door while his sister read the letter. “Well?”
“Just a minute,” Ginger said.
“Is Samuel all right? Just tell me that.”
“He’s fine, he’s wealthy, he’s Dutch, he’s changed his name to Lincoln and he’s married to a white woman named Tabitha.”
“He what?”
“Just hold on. I’m almost finished.”
June 1, 1861
Orchard Hill, Virginia
Eighteen-year-old Urilla Murray, with her long, golden tresses, peaches and cream complexion and waspwaisted figure, fit every trite stereotype of a Southern Belle. Smiling and greeting her guests, she glided gracefully across the vast marble floor of her father’s plantation manor toward the circle of girls who were surrounding Lieutenant Johnny Van Buskirk.
He saw her, excused himself and took her offered right hand in his left. “Thank you for inviting me, Urilla.”
“I have to talk to you in private, you son-of-a-bitch.” Her long fingernails dug into his palm, but the sweet expression on her face never wavered.
“Of course,” Johnny said, resisting the urge to jerk his hand free of the painful trap. “Shall we take a stroll outside?”
She eased her grip and looked up into his face as they crossed onto the rear terrace. “I’m pregnant.” The gay, carefree expression on her face clashed with her angry tone.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“It could be nerves. I’m told…”
“My breasts are spilling out of my gowns and they leak milk,” she said.
“Hmm. I’ve never heard of nerves causing that.”
“What shall we do?”
He took a moment to answer. “When were we together?”
“March.”
“Does the timing seem right?”
Her composure cracked for a moment, but she recovered quickly. “You’re the only possibility. I know that must seem unlikely to you in view of how easily I gave in, but it happens to be true.”
“I don’t doubt that, Urilla. It’s just that I don’t know that much about – you know – babies.”
“I’m pregnant, Johnny. That’s a fact. Will you help me get rid of it?”
He thought a moment. “No. But I’ll bribe a preacher near Washington to forge marriage documents dated in March. We’ll say that we eloped and hadn’t planned to tell anyone, but were forced to reveal it, in view of this blessed event.”
“I don’t want to get married.”
“Nor do I, but I refuse to help you – or permit you – to kill our unborn child.”
“It isn’t a child. It’s – it’s – something else.”
“I’m not giving you a choice in this matter, Urilla,” he said firmly. “You can marry me, or I shall have no choice but to speak to your father.”
“My father will shoot you full of holes.”
“Perhaps. But he won’t let you kill his grandchild.”
“I never expected this from you.”
“How would you know what to expect from me? We’ve known each other for a grand total of two or three hours and less than one of those was spent in conversation.”
“I don’t know what you did to me.” She giggled in spite of herself. “I mean I know what you did to me, but I don’t know why I let you. I’ve thought about it a thousand times. It was as if I was possessed.”
“I think they call it animal attraction. I wanted you the moment I saw you. I still do. Right now, behind the bushes, or in that grove of trees.”
She looked back toward the house. “All right.”
He looked around. “We’re bound to get caught.”
“I don’t care.”
He checked the grounds again. “I have a better idea.”
“What?”
“Let’s elope. Reall
y elope. Right now. We can still get the marriage documents backdated for a small bribe.”
“I told you that I don’t want to get married.”
“Picture a big bed with clean sheets and the two of us naked in the middle of it.”
“I’d need to pack,” she said after a moment’s reflection.
“Nonsense. We can buy whatever we need in Richmond. I have thirty days leave coming. I’ll wire Pea to fix it.”
“Richmond?”
“Or Washington. Baltimore. Anywhere you want to go.”
“I can’t ride all the way to any of those places on the back of your horse.”
“We’ll borrow one of the buggies parked out front in the circle.”
“You mean steal a buggy from one of my father’s guests.”
“No, borrow it and buy one of our own in Richmond.” He took out his watch. “We can have it back here before the owner even knows it’s gone.”
“Do you have enough money to buy a buggy in Richmond?”
“I have enough money to buy Richmond.”
She laughed out loud. “All right. Let’s go before I lose my courage.”
June 14, 1861
Cairo, Illinois
Captain Ulysses S. Grant shook hands with Colonel Robert Van Buskirk. “It looks like neither of us got the brigade we’d hoped for, but you did better than I did.” He gestured toward the eagles on Robert’s collar.
“I’m not so sure. At least you got a field command. I’m assistant adjutant to the Army’s Department of the West. As far as I can tell, no one reports to me.”
Grant motioned toward the headquarters building. “You going in or coming out?”
“Coming out. But if you’re not going to be long, I’ll wait for you out here.”
“I don’t know why I’ve been summoned, but it shouldn’t take long.” Grant bounded up the steps and hurried through the front door.
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