Home of the Brave (41 page)

“Then let me ask if you
really want to miss the opportunity of following in the footsteps
of Herman Cortés.”

October 18, 1846

Van Buskirk Point, New
Jersey

Yank lit a lantern then
closed the barn door and unsaddled the big black horse. As he was
searching the tack room the barn door opened and Abraham came in.
“Go back to bed, Abe. I can manage fine; if I could just find the
horse towels.”

Abraham went to a locker,
took out two big towels and gave one to Yank. “Did you swim
across?”

“Yes. I didn’t want to wait
for the ferryman to come to work in the morning.” Yank walked back
into the barn to begin drying the horse.

Abraham went around to the
other side of the horse and patted the animal’s flank. “Hello there
you big, bad boy.” He began drying him. “You ride all the way from
Elizabeth, Yank?”

“Yes. Beelzebub doesn’t
mind. He was tired of the soft life at Liberty Hall.”

“You goin’ to war
again?”

“Looks that way.”

“Take me with
you.”

Yank stood on his toes to
try to see Abraham over the horse’s shoulders. “Are you
mad?”

“I asked Marina to take me
but she wouldn’t. Now I’m asking you,” Abraham said, avoiding
Yank’s eyes.

“Why in God’s name would you
want to go to war?”

He shrugged. “I’ve hardly
been off this place since the day I was born.”

“Well if you have
wanderlust, take a vacation. Wars are loud, unpleasant and
unhealthy. If you can’t afford a vacation I’ll give you the
money.”

“Money.” Abraham shook his
head. “Everybody always wants to give me golldanged
money.”

Yank walked around in front
of the horse so he could see Abraham. “Is something eating you,
Abe?”

“Yes.” He turned to look at
Yank. “I know I’m a servant but…”

“Wait, wait.” Yank raised
his hand. “Don’t say that. You’re not a servant. You’re part of my
family and if I insulted you by offering you money, I
apologize.”

“If I’m part of your family
you ought to let me go with you to war.”

Yank walked closer to him.
“You don’t understand, Abe. Most of the southern officers and many
northern generals have slaves. If you were with me, you’d be
treated like a slave and I’d constantly be defending you. It’s a
distraction I don’t need and pain that you don’t want. Trust me.
The only thing worse than being a slave is being a free man treated
like a slave.”

“You mean there are no free
Blacks in the army?”

“There are many free black
soldiers, but none in staff positions for white
officers.”

“Who takes care of your
horses?”

“I usually hire a local
farm-boy as a groom, wherever I am. I don’t have a permanent staff
or any servants.” Yank went back to the task of
horse-drying.

“Are you going to Mexico on
a ship?”

“Yes.”

Abraham patted the big,
black war-horse. “Are you gonna take Beelzebub on the ship with
you?”

“Yes. Beelzebub and the
gray. Maybe that bay too, if you think he’s sound.”

“Beelzebub’s gonna to be
real hard to handle. He doesn’t take kindly to most
folks.”

“I’ll see to him
myself.”

“Why are you takin’
him?”

“He’s probably the last colt
out of my father’s warhorse that’ll have any real blood link to the
old stud.” He shrugged. “Hell, I don’t know. You’re right; he’s
going to be more trouble than he’s worth. I suppose I’m getting
soft and sentimental in my old age, but I want something of my
father’s with me during my last battle.”

Abraham smiled. “I like that
idea.”

“Do we have three
slings?”

“Everything we have is too
old to be trustworthy. We’ll need to order new ones. And some of
those coconut mats for you to take along so the horses don’t get
laminitis. They should have carrots too. It helps to keep them
healthy when they can’t get enough exercise.”

“If you went with me, who
would take care of this place?” Yank asked.

“My sister Ginger and my son
Samuel do as much as I do any more.”

“Let me think about it some
more. If you really want to go with me, there might be a
way.”

“No.” Abraham shook his
head. “You’re right. I’d do more harm than good. Until you
explained it, I didn’t know that the other officers had
slaves.”

“I know you’re longing to
see it, but it’s a cruel world out there, Abe.”

“Marina says that Negroes
can’t be citizens of Texas.”

“That’s got to change now
that Texas has become a state.”

“Will it be a free or slave
state?”

“Slave. But there’s bound to
be a fight about that before all’s said and done. Maybe a fight
bigger than Texas.”

“I miss everybody,” Abraham
said after a minute of silence. “If you and Marina move to Texas
with Thomas, Jane and Anna, Robert won’t come back and I’ll be
alone here forever.”

“Marina and I haven’t
discussed moving to Texas.”

“She told me she was going
to stay there after the war.”

“Maybe she’s planning to
stay there without me.”

“I wish things didn’t have
to change. Everything was simple when I was a boy.”

“Except Uncle Thomas yelling
at ‘that damn kid’ all the time,” Yank chuckled.

Abraham smiled. “He didn’t
mean it. He was my best friend.”

Yank looked surprised.
“Really?”

“He taught me to read,
write, ride, fish, hunt and everything valuable that Granny Sally
wasn’t able to teach me. I miss him every day.”

“Too bad you never knew your
father.”

“I know him, all right. He’s
Jacob Andres.”

Yank almost dropped the
towel. “Why didn’t I know that?”

“Nobody knew except my
mother and my grandmother. My grandmother told me as she was dying.
I’ve never told anyone before now.”

“Does Jacob
know?”

Abraham shrugged. “What does
it matter?”

“I don’t know. It just seems
like it does. Like you two should know each other. A father should
know his son and a son his father.”

“You never knew your
father.”

“That’s true. Oddly enough
though, I miss him.”

“You must be cold. Go on up
to the house and get into some dry clothes. I’ll take care of this
big, bad boy for you.”

“Thank you. I am
cold.”

“Oh. I better warn you.
Nancy Vreeland’s staying in the guest room.”

“Trouble at
home?”

Abraham shrugged. “She
didn’t say and I didn’t ask. Hope you don’t mind.”

Yank shook his head. “Of
course not. She’s almost like one of my children.”

October
1
9, 1846

Van Buskirk Point, New
Jersey

Yank was sitting at the
kitchen table reading and drinking coffee as Nancy Vreeland,
wearing a housecoat, staggered in. “Good morning.” He marked his
place and closed his book.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I
should have gotten up to make you breakfast but I didn’t get back
to sleep until the sun was coming up.”

“Don’t be silly.” He
gestured toward the stove. “The coffee’s hot.”

She poured herself a cup of
coffee and sat down across from him. “I hope you don’t mind me
staying here.”

“We covered that subject
last night. Make yourself at home and stay as long as you want. I
don’t think any of the family will be here again for some
time.”

“I had a fight with my
mother.”

He nodded.

“I have my own money – from
my grandmother. I was thinking about buying one of those old
brownstones in Manhattan.”

“They’re expensive
now.”

“Don’t you own
one?”

“Technically, yes. But some
of my grandmother’s family still lives there. I don’t think they
know it’s not theirs.”

“So you just let them stay
there rent free?”

He nodded. “My grandmother
left me more money than I can spend. I think this is the way she’d
like things to be.”

Nancy smiled. “I remember
visiting her with Anna one summer when we were teenagers. She was a
force of nature.”

He nodded. “She was
indeed.”

Nancy looked at him over the
rim of her cup.

“What?”

She put the cup down and
shook her head. “It seems odd to be sitting here talking to you
like an adult. You were always Anna’s occasional
father.”

He sighed. “Yes. I regret
not having spent more time with my children.”

“Oh, I didn’t mean it like
that. Your homecomings were special events that were counted down
on the calendar. The whole family, me included, looked forward to
your coming and wept after you were gone.”

Yank sipped his coffee to
cover his emotional reaction to her words.

“Could I ask your advice
about something?”

He nodded.

“I’m going to shock
you.”

“I doubt it.”

Nancy took a deep breath.
“I’m in love with another woman.”

“Was that the cause of the
fight with your mother?”

“Yes.”

“Well, the only advice I can
offer is to tell no one else.”

She looked
surprised.

“What?”

“I expected your
condemnation.”

He chuckled. “Maybe you
wanted it so you could defend yourself.”

“Maybe.” She hesitated. “So
you don’t disapprove?”

He shrugged. “I disapprove
of bad behavior and even of bad choices that some people make.
Loving someone isn’t a choice. It just happens.”

“Should I tell
Anna?”

“No.”

“She’s my best friend. I’ve
never kept a secret from her.”

“You asked my advice, Nancy.
You certainly don’t have to take it.”

“Do you think Anna would
disapprove?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know,
but it’s possible that she would be jealous.”

“Jealous?”

“You were very close as
little girls and she loves you more than anyone. She might see this
as you choosing another woman over her.”

“What I’m talking about
isn’t the same kind of love.”

“Can you explain that in a
letter?”

She considered his words for
some time. “Maybe not.”

“The best advice I can offer
is to live your life with your lady friend privately.”

“You sound as if you speak
from experience.”

“I do in a way. You may
recall when I was badly wounded during the surrender of Fort
Detroit.”

She nodded.

“A woman there nursed me
back to health and we formed a bond that’s continued all these
years. It’s platonic and Marina knows about her but I keep it as
private as I can to avoid hurting anyone.”

“Oh, you mean Annabelle
Priest,” Nancy said. “Anna hates her. Or she did for some
time.”

He nodded. “Anna can be very
judgmental and when she makes up her mind reasoning with her is
simply impossible. That’s why I advised you to keep your
secret.”

“Yes.” Nancy sighed. “It
would break my heart if she turned her back on me the way she did
to you.” She got up, retrieved the coffee pot and refilled their
cups. “Are you going to see her before you go?”

“Who?”

“Annabelle.” She took the
pot back to the stove.

“I should,” he said, after a
moment.

“Yes.” Nancy sat back down.
“You’re going back to war. If things go wrong she should have
something to hold onto.”

He nodded. “You’re right.
She and her brother will be in Washington at the end of the month.
I’ll go say goodbye.”

“Oh dear, no. Not
goodbye.”

He chuckled. “I don’t know
why I said that.”

October
27, 1846

Washington, District of
Columbia

Annabelle watched Yank as he
came into her hotel suite and took off his hat. “You’re going to
war.”

He nodded and sat down on
the couch beside her. “You could come with me.”

She shook her head. “I draw
the line at camp following.”

“I can’t think of anything
to say.”

“Don’t say anything.” She
took his hand and drew his arm around her shoulders. “I’ll be
sleeping in your suite with you until you leave.”

He chuckled. “You should
have made that decision several years ago.”

“Why?”

“Well,” He looked
uncomfortable. “I’m too old.”