Antebellum BK 1 Page 8

  “She went to California with Jack, Clementine and Robert,” she replied.

  “Did she now? California?”

  Jane nodded. “The army changed their orders again. They’re in San Francisco.”

  “Guess what, Uncle Josiah,” Johnny said excitedly.

  “I can’t guess. Tell me.”

  “We’re going to New York next week.”

  Josiah looked at Jane for confirmation.

  “Pea starts at West Point in the fall,” Jane supplied. “Johnny and I are going to travel with him. I want him to know that there’s a world beyond Texas.”

  “Plannin’ to see Anna, were ya?”

  “We’ll spend some time with Nancy in New York, with Anna in Washington and then we’ll visit the old Van Buskirk Home Place and my father’s home at Montauk Point.”

  “Is your father goin’ with you?”

  “He died last winter.”

  “Oh. I’m right sorry to hear that. He was a fine old gentleman.”

  “How long will you be here in Waco?” Jane asked, to change the still painful subject.

  “Just long enough to shed the trail dust, then I’m gonna head up to Fort Worth. They say a boom-town’s sprung up with gamblin’ and such. That might attract a feller like Lucky Billy Van.”

  “We don’t talk about Uncle William,” Johnny warned.

  “Oh.” Whipple ducked his head. “Reckon you don’t. Sorry I brung it up.”

  “I don’t know where Pea could be,” Jane said, with a warning look to Johnny that failed to register.

  “I seen Pea sparkin’ a pretty girl as I come down,” Whipple said, cutting off Johnny’s question. “What’s Anna doin’ in Washington?”

  Jane rolled her eyes. “She’s back on her anti-slavery bandwagon. Officially she’s a research assistant on President Taylor’s staff but in reality she’s a pamphleteer for the Whig Party.”

  “I can’t figure Zach Taylor on that,” Whipple mused. “You know he still owns slaves? Or did when last I talked to him.”

  “It came as a shock to most southerners when he said he’d veto the Wilmot Proviso if he was elected,” Jane agreed.

  “What’s a Wilmot Proviso?” Johnny asked.

  “A law that Congressman David Wilmot introduced in the United States House of Representatives that would have banned slavery in the territory acquired from Mexico after the War,” Jane said.

  “Includin’ all of what was once called the disputed land in south Texas and in New Mexico east of the Rio Grande,” Whipple added.

  “Is that a bad idea?” Johnny asked. “Banning slavery?”

  “If you’re planning to grow cotton, rice or sugar, it surely is,” Whipple replied. “You gotta have slaves to pick cotton, plant rice and chop sugarcane. Payin’ somebody to do that kinda work just ain’t profitable.”

  “But there aren’t any cotton, rice or sugar plantations in the places that the Wilmot Proviso addresses,” Jane said. “That was President Taylor’s argument.”

  “Are we for or against slavery?” Johnny asked.

  “That’s a hard question to answer,” Whipple replied.

  Jane sighed. “We know that slavery’s wrong but ending it suddenly would ruin the entire economy of the South.”

  “So what should be done?” Johnny persisted.

  “Some folks in the south think we should split into two countries,” Whipple said after a long silence. “To me that’s just wrong, but I don’t have no better idea.”

  Johnny looked confused. “I don’t get it. How would we have two countries?”

  “Some southern states are advocating seceding from the union,” Jane said.

  “That means they wanna quit bein’ part of the United States,” Whipple explained.

  Jane nodded. “But the United States government won’t permit that, so if the South tries to leave the Union, there could be a war between the states.”

  “Which side would we be on?” Johnny asked.

  “Your father would probably side with the South,” Jane said. “The rest of the family would probably side with the North.”

  Johnny looked horrified. “Then we have to make sure that there’s no war.”

  “Lots of folks are tryin’ to do that,” Whipple said. “But it’s a tall order.”

  “Finding a way to make both sides happy is called a compromise,” Jane explained. “The government is trying to find one.”

  “I hope they do,” Johnny said nervously. “Otherwise Pea and me would have to side with Dad and fight against Uncle Jack, Uncle Robert and Quincy. I’d hate that.”

  “We all would,” Jane agreed.

  December 24, 1849

  Van Buskirk Point, New Jersey

  Jane Van Buskirk opened the front door as Nancy Vreeland and her sister-in-law, Anna Van Buskirk Lagrange waded through the drifting snow toward the house. Both were overburdened with brightly wrapped packages. “How in the world did you two get here?”

  “Overland by sleigh from Paulus Hook,” Anna shouted back.

  “But the snow was too deep for the horses so we had to walk the last mile,” Nancy added breathlessly. She put her armload of gifts on the porch then took Anna’s from her and did the same.

  “You must be half frozen.” Jane hurried out to help them up the steps to the porch. “Just leave your boots and coats on until you get inside. A little water won’t hurt the rug.”

  “We’re fine,” Anna insisted. She brushed snow off a rocking chair, sat down and began unbuckling her galoshes.

  “All except my nose.” Nancy sat on the steps. “Why doesn’t somebody invent a nose muff?”

  “I’m not touching that one,” Anna giggled.

  Nancy made a face at her.

  Jane knelt to help Anna take off her boots. “I know you’re going to be angry at me, Anna, but I did it anyway.”

  Anna arched an eyebrow. “What did you do, Jane?”

  “I invited Quincy to come here with Pea for Christmas.”

  Anna looked toward the front door. “He’s here?”

  “Yes.” Jane stood up with Anna’s galoshes in her hands. “And I’m keeping these so you can’t run away.”

  “Oh that’s grand,” Nancy said excitedly. “I can’t wait to see them. Where are they?”

  “I shooed all three boys upstairs when I saw you coming,” Jane replied, watching Anna. “Quincy’s been nervous as a cat all day.”

  “I’ll be good,” Anna sighed. “The truth is I’ve missed him. But didn’t know how to – you know.”

  “Apologize?” Nancy asked.

  “I have nothing to apologize for,” Anna shot back. “It was Quincy that insulted me.”

  “Oh please,” Jane begged.

  Anna raised her hand. “I said I’d be good, and I will.”

  “No political discussions until after Christmas,” Nancy suggested.

  Anna shook her head. “I can’t promise that.”

  “Let’s go in,” Jane said with a shiver.

  “Wait, we can’t forget the presents,” Nancy said.

  Jane held the door until Anna and Nancy were inside. “Just put those anywhere.”

  “What? No Christmas tree?” Anna unloaded her gifts onto the couch then walked to the fireplace and warmed her hands.

  “The boys cut a beautiful tree this morning,” Jane replied. “We can decorate it together after supper.”

  ~

  “Beautiful,” Nancy proclaimed as Quincy placed the star atop the tree.

  Quincy jumped down from the chair. “Merry Christmas to all and God bless us, every one.” He gave Anna a hug. “Thank you for being here with us, Mother.”

  Embarrassed by the show of affection, Anna patted her son’s back and extracted herself from his embrace. “I may be seeing you more often. I’ve been offered a job in New York.”

  “Doing what?” Jane asked.

  “Writing a news column for the Tribune.” Anna giggled. “Mr. Greeley insists that I use a non-gender specific byline.
I am to be A.M. Van Buskirk. I have, by the way, started using my maiden name on all official documents. Mr. Greeley thinks that Van Buskirk will lend me some credibility while Lagrange is an unknown name here in the North.”

  Jane gave Nancy a questioning look and Anna noticed it.

  “What?” Anna asked.

  “I was just wondering if you’ve been having problems in Washington since President Taylor died,” Jane replied.

  Anna shook her head. “No. I get on famously with President Fillmore, but I prefer writing about politics to the day-to-day mud-slinging.”

  “Will you be staying here or with Nancy in New York?” Jane asked.

  “We haven’t decided yet,” Nancy replied.

  Pea looked at Anna. “Will there be a civil war?”

  Anna sat down on the couch. “I don’t think so, Paul. There’s a compromise working its way through the legislature that should calm everyone except the extremists.”

  “What’s it called?” Quincy asked.

  “It’s just called The Compromise,” Anna said.

  “Does it have a chance without President Taylor to push it?” Jane asked.

  “Oddly enough, it began to gain traction when President Taylor died,” Anna said.

  “Who’s sponsoring the bill?” Quincy asked.

  “It’s a number of bills actually, but the force behind the effort is Senator Henry Clay.” Anna waited, expecting some criticism of Clay, but when nothing was said, she continued. “It isn’t popular in the North or South, but everyone knows it’s the only way to prevent a civil war.”

  “What happens to Texas if it passes?” Johnny asked.

  Anna glanced at Pea before answering. “Texas will have to give up the New Mexico territory, but they get what’s being called the panhandle, plus El Paso and debt relief.”

  Nancy looked puzzled. “Debt relief?”

  “Texas went deeply into debt during the Revolution and the Mexican War,” Jane said.

  Anna nodded. “Under The Compromise, the Federal Government will assume all that debt.”

  “What are the biggest objections to the compromise?” Pea asked.

  “Well,” Anna thought a moment. “There’s a stronger Fugitive Slave Act which is, of course, an outrage to Northern public opinion, and slavery’s being preserved in Washington, D.C.”

  “I read that the slave trade was banned there,” Jane said.

  Anna nodded. “It has been, except in the portion that rejoined Virginia.”

  “What’s the southern objection?” Pea asked.

  “They wanted a Pacific Territory in Southern California or a guarantee of slavery south of a territorial line - like the Missouri Compromise Line or the 35th parallel.”

  “Will they get it?” Jane asked.

  “No.” Anna shook her head. “They won’t get either.”

  “I presume that you believe these other bills will pass, Mother?” Quincy asked.

  She shrugged. “When I left Washington they seemed to have enough votes. But Senator John C. Calhoun of South Carolina was still energetically lobbying against passage, and he’s a powerful force.”

  The political conversation continued until everyone had gone to bed except Anna and Johnny.

  “You seem to be very interested in politics,” she observed.

  He nodded. “What do you think my father would say if I decided not to go to West Point like everyone else?”

  Anna considered the question for some time. “I don’t think he’d offer any serious opposition. My father wanted his boys to serve, but my brothers only served because he wanted them to.” She thought a moment, then reconsidered. “Except Jack. Jack was born to be a soldier.”

  “Quincy and Pea will be upset if I don’t go.”

  She shrugged. “You have to live your life for yourself, not for your family. What would you like to do?”

  “Write. Like you. For a newspaper. But I don’t want to disappoint my family either.”

  “How old are you, Johnny?”

  “Thirteen. Almost.”

  “That gives me some time to think about it.”

  He grinned. “You’ll help me?”

  “Yes. Of course. It’s always been my opinion that we need more thinkers in this family and fewer soldiers.”

  January 3, 1850

  West Point, New York

  Cadet Paul Van Buskirk’s roommate, James E. B. Stuart, looked up from his book as Paul came in and closed the door. “How was Christmas at home, Pea?”

  “It was surprisingly enjoyable.” Paul put his small valise on the floor, opened it and began unpacking. “Anything happen here while I was gone?”

  “Not much. How did you and Pug get along?”

  “Fine.”

  “I’ll bet you didn’t call him Quincy.” Stuart chuckled.

  “That’s his name.”

  “I know that but…”

  “His mother was there, so he was on his best behavior.”

  “His mother was there? Gadzooks.” Stuart pulled a face. “That must have been grim.”

  “Grim? No. Why would you say that?”

  “His mother’s an abolitionist, isn’t she?”

  “Yes, but…” He shook his head. “Maybe we shouldn’t discuss that, Beauty.”

  Stuart had received the West Point nickname, Beauty, because an upperclassman had remarked that Stuart’s small, receding chin “disfigured his otherwise fine countenance”. At home in Virginia, James Ewell Brown Stuart’s nickname was Jeb, derived from his first three initials. “The way things are going we’ll have to discuss the issues between North and South soon,” Stuart observed. “A soldier can’t ride the fence when the shooting starts.”

  “My Aunt Anna says that there’s a compromise working its way through the legislature that should calm some of this talk of civil war.”

  “Only Yankees talk of civil war. In the South, we talk of peaceful secession.” He grinned. “By force, only if necessary.”

  “Texas is proud to be a part of the United States and the South. In your part of the South, you talk as if the United States was a social club that anyone could join or resign from at will.”

  “Why shouldn’t it be exactly that? Where is it written that a State cannot withdraw from the Union?”

  “In common sense.”

  “You’ll have to do better than that, Pea. And I think you may misunderstand your home state of Texas because of your grandfather’s close friendship with Senator Sam Houston. Houston’s aligned himself with your idea of an inviolate union.”

  “I’d really rather not discuss it, Beauty. There’s nothing that you or I can do about it, anyway.”

  “Any news from California?” Stuart asked to change the subject.

  Paul sat down at his desk. “Apparently the army has its hands full with all the gold seekers. My uncle says that northern California is lawless; ruled by vigilantes and thugs.”

  “Is your grandmother still there?”

  “Yes. And my Uncle William is too, apparently.”

  “Lucky Billy Van? How do you know?”

  “Have you heard of a Chicago detective agency run by a man named Allan Pinkerton?”

  “Is that the same as the Pinkertons?”

  “Yes. My aunt Anna paid them five thousand dollars to find Uncle William.”

  “Why didn’t the Pinkertons arrest him? The territorial rewards must be huge by now.”

  “I don’t know. I think that my grandmother may have told Aunt Anna to call off the Pinkertons. Whatever happened is discussed in whispers so that Pug doesn’t hear. I just caught bits and pieces.”

  “You can’t really blame your grandmother for trying to protect her son.”

  “No, but I can’t blame Aunt Anna for wanting him arrested for murdering her husband either. Charlie Lagrange was a fine man. Pug doted on him. Of course he’d never admit that.”

  “So Pug doesn’t know that your grandmother’s protecting your Uncle William?”

  “I don’t ev
en know it for certain, Beauty. But I don’t think it really matters if she is or isn’t. My Uncle Josiah’s still trying to find Uncle William and my grandmother can’t call him off.”

  “Texas Rangers don’t have jurisdiction in California.”

  “Uncle Josiah’s a U.S. Marshal now.”

  “He’s not really your uncle, is he?”

  “No. But when we were children, we weren’t permitted to call adults by their first names so all the close family friends were aunt and uncle. The Aunt Nancy that I talk about all the time is really just a family friend.”

  Stuart, who had lost interest in the subject of Paul’s family, nodded. “Did you find out what happened to your grandfather’s horses?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “The warhorses your grandfather had with him in Mexico.”

  “Oh. Yeah. They shipped Beelzebub back to my great-great grandfather Livingston’s stables in Elizabeth. I’m not sure about the other two horses. I think one was killed in battle.”

  “I sure would love to ride Beelzebub some time.”

  Paul chuckled. “He’d eat you alive.”

  “There’s no horse I can’t ride.”

  “Famous last words. Beelzebub only tolerates a few humans and they’re all Van Buskirks or Livingstons.”

  “Well anyway, I’m glad that your uncles sent him home. It’d be a shame for a bloodline that old and famous to die out.”

  “Beelzebub’s sired several colts already.”

  “Any of them have his nature?”

  “I don’t really know. We can go over to Elizabeth in the spring, and if you want one of his colts, I’ll give it to you.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes. Other than my grandfather, you’re the best horseman I’ve ever seen. You should have a warhorse worthy of your skill.”

  “Heavy horse is a tactic of the past. Light cavalry is the future.”

  “So you don’t want one of Beelzebub’s colts?”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “You’re right, of course. Big, powerful horses like Beelzebub aren’t of much use in the modern American cavalry.”

  “Do you think they’ll let us join the cavalry after we graduate?”

  “I’m hoping to be an engineer, but you’re a natural for the cavalry, Beauty. The army would be foolish to place you anywhere else.”