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"I've had 14 duels with a spate of war wounds in between."
Andrew Jackson
CHAPTER 37
THE THINNEST VENEER ..................WINTER 1831-32
All partenaires of P. D. Papin & Company had gotten responsible positions in the American Fur Company after selling out to Astor's empire except for Michel Sylvestre Cerré.
Though he was well off, Michel had implored John Jacob Astor's staff for a worthy task. When it seemed beyond hope, suddenly it had come!
He re-read Alfred Seton's letter. Michel was to begin assembly of a 110 man expedition and 20 freight wagons in
Seton's letter said little about this Benjamin Bonneville. Though Michel was delighted Bonneville was born in
Reports Cerré made to AFC about Captain Bonneville would be in strict confidence. Astor's personal instruction was that no convict nor sinister person be hired in the event the expedition's true sponsorship should ever surface.
Michel Cerré vowed to search St. Louis for men, mules, wagons and supplies immediately after the Blessed Christmas. Now his brother Gabriel, trading on the Missouri, and his sister Catherine Louise, married to his former partinenaire P.D. Papin, would grasp the magnitude of his stature, not from his words, but the funds that would fatten his personal account.
Every man had to grow into himself. With 30 staring him in the eyes like the black hearted bayou snake it was, Michel Cerré would don himself like a greatcoat and march proudly into a grand new life.
Few places in this world could feel colder than
After months of wrestling arcane instruments at
He'd received word to report to the White House. The mere hint that some perverse change might bar his name from
Bonneville prayed
The White House stood majestically in drifted snow. Bonneville knew he would always remember it this way like a painting by the masters. He entered and started through the armada paid to keep people from seeing the President -- even if they had an appointment.
Unbeknownst to Captain Bonneville, President Jackson had summoned a
Inside the President's office the renowned Dr. Harris of
"Which scar in your collection brings me here today?"
"As we discussed by letter, it won't be Charles Dickinson's ball lodged against my heart, though the Lord knows it pains me most. Today, Jesse Benton's ball must be removed. Was in my left shoulder, but it's settled lower."
"This scar is old."
"Nigh 20 years."
"I can't feel the bullet, Mr. President. Where is it?"
"Whiskey, Mr. President?"
Dr. Harris made the incision, squeezed the President's arm and out popped a flattened ball. He staunched the wound, then began suturing it with gut.
"Let me see that ball,"
Depositing the mangled bullet in
After Dr. Harris departed, President Jackson dressed, stifled his urge to kill the pain with a jolt of liquor and had the Army officer ushered in as though nothing had happened. "Sit down, Captain."
Bonneville eyed the bloody towel on the floor by the President's desk, doffed his cap, inserted it under his arm and saluted, "Captain Benjamin Lewis Eulalie Bonneville, 7th Infantry Regiment reporting as ordered, Sir!"
Andrew Jackson couldn't resist returning the smart salute though himself clad as a civilian. There was something precious about military tradition and the men who practiced it. "Do sit down, Captain."
Bonneville sat erectly.
"The 1818 Joint Occupation Treaty of
"Most assuredly, Sir! I've never conversed with another President."
"Find out how
"Joseph Walker will go. He fought in your command at Horseshoe
"I remember Joel Walker. He served under me in
"Joseph Walker is a black-bearded behemoth of a man, though he was but a boy of 15 when he served under you on the
"I shall, Mr. President, but I shall never be less than candid with my Commanding Officers."
Andrew Jackson chortled, "Then you'll likely spend a long time in grade as a Captain!"
Bonneville reddened, "About
"Absolutely nothing!"
"You'll do fur trapping to pay costs of this enterprise?"
"That's our intention, Mr. President."
"Do not ever contact me directly from the field. Channel your reports through the Commanding General of the Army or the Secretary of War -- and by all that's holy -- be careful with your reports. Stray paper is far more deadly than artillery and every bit as apt to hit that at which it is not aimed."
"I understand, Sir."
"Do you really. We shall see, Captain. Good day, Sir."
Joe Walker led his string of six handsome horses into the draw. They snorted and looked about, eyes wide, ears flicking. When they did not graze right away, Joe looked up and down the draw. He walked among them, patting them to quiet their stomping. He sensed somebody was watching, but saw no one.
His mission to find the
Walker hobbled his horses, then pounded the stakes for their 12 foot ropes deep into the hard ground. They could graze on the tan grasses spearing through the snow. He knew a man seeking company at night makes a fire, so he started one with dry wood off his pack horse. Then he collected branches shed from the cottonwood, ash and persimmon trees standing with slender mantles of snow along their limbs. He strung the branches out to dry by his fire. New moccasin tracks barely visible in the dark snow told him he was not alone. He waved toward his fire.
"Why you follow us, Blackbeard?" asked the smallest of the several
"Eat with me, and I'll tell you, "Joe replied, kicking his tree branches closer to the snap-popping fire to dry.
"We eat no white man's food, but we will sit."
Joe hunkered down beside the fire with three of the
One
Joe said, "Not like the rest of me."
"We are all face," the
The smallest
"You know there are eight from the tracks of our horses. We know you are one with six horses fit for Chiefs. Why should we not let your blood into the snow and take your horse people?"
The hair stood on
Editor's Note: Joe Walker's 1837 painting
by famous portraitist Alfred Jacob Miller.
[From our Mighty Joe Walker audiobook
album cover]
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