Land of the Free (20 page)

“On what charge?” Yank asked
calmly, as the bar patrons nearby scattered.

“For now, the charge is
spying and leading an armed insurrection against King Charles of
Spain. But we may add murder when we have completed the
interrogation of your men.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Yank
scoffed.

“Denying the charges is a
waste of time. Our detachment that was stranded in the Canyon by
the early snow has returned with prisoners and many have already
confessed.” He jerked his head and the four men closed on
Yank.

“A moment, if you please,”
Marina said in Spanish. “I am Doña Marina Elena Cortés Van Buskirk.
This man is my husband.”

“I know exactly who and what
you are, Señora.” The major snapped his fingers at the soldiers who
had been stopped by Marina’s speech. “Take him.”

“No,” Marina said, trying to
get between the soldiers and Yank.

Yank gently pushed her aside
and looked at the major. “I’ll go along, but you are making a
mistake.”

“A very big mistake indeed,”
Marina said haughtily. “I am a direct descendent of Don Hernán
Cortés, the first Marqués del Valle de Oaxaca.”

“I am Major Juan de
Alvarado,” the major said with a mocking bow to Marina. “I am a
direct descendent of Don Pedro de Alvarado y Contreras and you are
a Mestizo whore. However, if you leave New Mexico immediately, no
charges will be brought against you.”

“I have no money and cannot
leave until the bank honors our draft,” she answered, watching
Yank, who was now surrounded by the four soldiers.

“Very well,” Major Alvarado
replied. “I will grant you that much time.”

May 3, 1805

Van Buskirk Point, New
Jersey

“I am Marina Elena Cortés
Van Buskirk and I have come on behalf of my husband who is John
William Thomas Robert Van Buskirk.”

Nannette was standing in the
open door, gaping.

“What’s this?” Tom came up
behind Nannette and peered at the very pregnant young woman who was
standing unsteadily on their front porch.

“I am Marina Elena Cortés
Van Buskirk and I have come on behalf of my husband who is John
William Thomas Robert Van Buskirk.” Marina staggered and reached
toward the door jam to steady herself.

Tom pushed past Nannette and
helped Marina toward one of the rocking chairs on the front porch.
“How did you get here? Did you walk?”

“Only from the
ferry.”

Nannette had recovered from
the surprise and rushed out to help him. “Dear God, what has
happened to our boy?” she muttered in French.

“He has been captured by the
Spanish,” Marina replied in French, as she sank down gratefully
into the cushions of the rocking chair. “The American government
says that they can do nothing because we have severed diplomatic
ties with Spain.”

“Where are they holding
him?” Tom asked.

His French was Canadian with
a heavy English accent so it took a moment for Marina to
understand. “I cannot be certain. He was in El Paso del Norte when
I left.” She gulped, fighting tears. “It has taken me so long to
get here that I cannot be sure if he is still there or even if he
is still alive.”

“Are you strong enough to
come inside?” Nannette asked.

Marina tried to stand but
then sat back. “If I could have a moment please.”

Nanette patted her hand.
“When is your baby due?”

“Soon, I think.”

“I can get some of the
servants to help me carry her in,” Tom suggested in
English.

“If you could pull me up
onto my feet I can manage.” Marina held out her hands. “I cannot
bend forward any more.”

Nannette and Tom helped her
out of the chair and then into the house.

“Lizzy?” Tom bellowed.
“Where the hell is that woman?”

“I sent her to the market
with Naomi,” Nannette said. “Let’s take Marina to Yank’s room. You
can fetch her some soup while I help her undress and into
bed.”

“I don’t know where anything
is in the kitchen,” he complained.

“All you have to do is
look,” Nannette snapped angrily. “There’s a pot of good beef
vegetable soup on the stove, the soup bowls are in the cabinet and
the spoons are in the silverware drawer.”

“There is no need to get
nasty.” He helped Nannette to seat Marina on the bed and then
hurried out.

“I am so sorry to have
become such trouble, Madam,” Marina said.

Nannette knelt to unbutton
Marina’s shoes. “Do not be silly, child. You are our daughter.” She
smiled up at Marina. “And you are about to make us
grandparents.”

“Do you prefer English?”
Marina asked.

“I prefer French but Thomas
speaks Canuck and I saw that you had trouble with that, so English
might be best.”

“It took me a moment,”
Marina admitted.

“Your accent is Parisian. Is
Paris your home?”

“I learned from the nuns in
New Orleans. I have never been to France. I am Mexican.”

“You could have fooled me.
Can you stand up so I can help you with your dress?”

Marina slid off the bed and
turned her back to Nannette. “Can you help me rescue
John?”

“John?” Nanette looked blank
for a moment then giggled. “Oh you mean Yank, of course. Yes, yes.
Thomas and I will invade Mexico, if need be.”

“I have never been fond of
the name Yank. I hope you will forgive me.”

“Of course. It isn’t really
important, except when you said John I immediately thought of
Yank’s father. Raise your hands and let me see if I can get this
dress off over your head without knocking you down.”

When Thomas arrived with a
tray, Marina was in bed with her hair spread on the pillow. “Ah,
you look better already,” he said with a smile.

Nannette took the tray from
him, placed it across Marina’s knees and sat down on the edge of
the bed. “Let me feed you dear.”

“You are too kind,” Marina
said, but she accepted the offered spoonful of soup.

Nannette smiled at her then
glanced at her husband. “Where can we get a fast ship,
Thomas?”

He pointed out the window.
“Patrick McGrew has a fast butter-box anchored right across the
kill from our dock.”

“From here to El Paso in a
little brigantine?” Nannette asked dubiously.

“No, of course not.” He made
a face. “We’ll take her from Pittsburgh, down the Allegheny and
then down the Ohio to Cairo, Illinois. From Cairo, we can reach New
Orleans by speedboat in less than a week. Once we’re in New Orleans
we’ll hire a pirate vessel and crew to take us up the Rio
Grande.”

Nannette looked up at him
for a moment.

“What?” he growled. “Is it
hiring the speedboat or the pirates that you object to?”

Nannette shook her head. “I
object to neither. I was impressed that you already had a plan. I
sometimes forget what a fine man you are.”

He looked surprised for a
moment but then smiled at Marina. “Ha. That’s the first compliment
she’s paid me in over twenty years.”

“If that’s true,” Nannette
replied, “I’m ashamed.” She looked up at him. “Perhaps you could
begin organizing the trip, Thomas. And if you could send someone
for Sally.” She went back to the task of feeding Marina.

“Sally?” He shook his head.
“Our daughter-in-law needs a real doctor, not an old black
witch.”

“I trust Sally over any
doctor.”

“She must be near two
hundred years old, Nan.”

“She may be over a hundred
but two hundred is a gross exaggeration.”

“The point is that she’s too
old to trust.”

“Sally has been caring for
this family for five generations. If you’re willing to trust our
lives to some unknown pirate, surely you can allow me to trust
Sally.”

He hesitated then nodded. “I
still think she’s too old but I trust you.”

“I know a privateer in New
Orleans that we can trust,” Marina said.

They both looked at
her.

“His name is Jean Lafitte.
If you send him a message in care of the Gray Lady Tavern, he will
be waiting for us with a fast ship and a fighting crew when we
arrive. Please be sure to use my maiden name. Marina
Cortés.”

“Jean Lafitte, Marina
Cortés,” Thomas repeated. Then he hurried from the room.

“You will not be going with
us,” Nannette said firmly to Marina. “The trip is too dangerous for
a woman in your condition.”

“But I must go. How will you
know where to find John without me to guide you?”

“Even I know that El Paso is
on the Rio Grande and surely your friend Monsieur Lafitte can find
the Rio Grande.”

“But…”

“Think of your
baby.”

Marina closed her eyes. “I
know that you’re right but the thought of waiting here and not
knowing is dreadful.”

“You married a soldier, my
dear. Waiting is the lot of a soldier’s wife. Where, exactly, is
Yank being held?”

“In the presidio of San
Elizario.”

“Have you any idea how many
soldiers are garrisoned there?”

“The permanent party is four
officers and forty-three soldiers, but other garrisons move
detachments up and down the Royal Highway a great deal, so the
total number inside the fort can often be more.”

“The Royal
Highway?”

Marina smiled wanly. “El
Camino Real is the fanciful name used on Spanish maps to designate
a rough trail that begins in Mexico City and ends in Santa
Fe.”

“Have you had enough soup,
dear?”

“Yes. Thank you. It was very
good.”

“Could you sleep a
bit?”

“I think I could sleep for a
week. This is the first time that I have been warm and felt safe in
a very long time.”

~

Tom lit a small stick from
the fireplace, applied it to his pipe and when the tobacco was
drawing well, he tossed the stick into the fire. “I checked with
Callahan. Marina was exactly right about the Spanish garrison at El
Paso. Four officers and forty-three soldiers.”

Tom and Nannette had moved
into the living room after supper, leaving a maid to sit with
Marina, who had returned to bed.

“She strikes me as very
competent,” Nannette said. “She told me that she stayed alone in
Albuquerque until Yank’s bank draft was paid, then went to
Pensacola and on to Havana and finally to Washington before she
came here.”

“Remarkable.”

“Anna would be proud of
her.”

“What did Sally say?” He
puffed his pipe to keep it burning.

“She says that Marina is
very strong and that she’ll carry the baby full term.”

“When’s it
coming?”

“Another month. Perhaps a
bit longer. Marina knows almost nothing about childbirth and
couldn’t tell Sally when she conceived.”

“Did she discuss her family
with you?”

“No. She evaded my
questions. I think she may be ashamed of her past.”

He looked into the fire.
“Don’t press her, Nan. If Yank chose her for a wife she’s good
enough for us.”

“Lord knows her past
couldn’t possibly be more jaded than mine.”

“She’s a pretty thing.
Darker than any Spaniards I’ve ever known.”

“She told me that she’s
Mexican and descended from the Conquistador, Cortés.”

“Mexican? What’s a
Mexican?”

“People of mixed Spanish and
Indian blood.”

“Indian? What
tribe?”

“Aztec.”

“No, you’re wrong. The
Aztecs are as dead as the Pequot, the Narragansett or the Mohican.
Cortés himself wiped ‘em out.”

Nannette shook her head.
“No, you’re wrong. I looked it up. Cortés fathered a child with an
Aztec princess. Marina is a descendent.”

“Huh.” He raised his
eyebrows. “Our daughter-in-law’s a princess. Now that’s very
interesting. Too bad it makes her uncomfortable to talk about
it.”

“She might be willing to
talk more, once she gets to know us.”

“Hope we live to see the
day.”

“When do we
leave?”

“McGrew says he can have a
crew ready and the ship provisioned by sunup, day after
tomorrow.”

“Do we have enough money for
all this?”

“You and I don’t, but the
family does. I’ll go to New York tomorrow and see
Mother.”

“Did you send a letter to
Monsieur Lafitte?”

“By express rider. He’ll
have it a week before we arrive.”

“Did you inquire about
him?”

Tom nodded. “He operates
from Barataria Bay, has four well armed schooners and letters of
marque from Saint-Domingue and Cartagena.”