Queen

"We must fight England again," he insisted. "I was not old enough to do

  much good in the last war." He meant the Revolution. "I pray the next

  comes before I get too old to fight."

  That Andrew should be looking to the long-term future at all was

  astonishing to James, whose mind was filled with thoughts of the coming

  morning.

  They passed a pleasant evening across the Kentucky line. Andrew regaled

  those at dinner with his thoughts on the state of the world, and no one

  guessed the true'purpose of these strangers.

  James had shared a room with Overton, who fell asleep within moments of

  getting into bed. James stayed awake, almost until dawn, his mind racing

  with ideas and forebodings. He could not imagine what it must feel like

  to go to bed knowing that this might be your last night on earth, but

  memories of his nights at Gorey Hill, before a battle with the British,

  came to him. He remembered the fear he felt then, and prayed that he

  would never know such a feeling again in his life. He wondered what he

  would do if he was ever challenged to a duel, and did not dare to

  consider his response.

  Alfred woke them and his Massa at five the following moming. James was

  completely uncertain about what was expected of him.

  "Just be there," Overton told him. "I'll do all the rest."

  Andrew joined them, and said he was looking forward to a good breakfast,

  after they had attended to business.

  They met at the arranged location, on the bank of the river, just after

  dawn. It was a pleasant place, a small grove surrounded by poplars, and

  James saw deer on the opposite bank. Mist lay on the river.

  Andrew got out of the carriage, stretched his arms and went for a quick

  stroll, to exercise his muscles. Throughout the short drive, he had

  talked only of the future.

  BLOODLINES 101

  Dickerson was already there, with his second, Dr. Catlett. They tossed

  for position and Dickerson won, but the sun was hardly up, so it made

  little difference.

  James held the box containing the two pistols, and the duelists took

  their pick.

  Andrew and Dickerson paced to position, and Overton gave the order to

  fire.

  James thought that nature must have arrested time. Everything seemed to

  happen so slowly.

  He saw Dickerson raise his gun, slowly, and point it at Andrew, slowly.

  James was sweating. Dickerson was known to be a crack shot. Would the man

  never fire?

  Alfred, standing near James, stared at the scene impassively, but was

  filled with emotion. There was more than one man's future at stake, if

  only one man's life.

  Andrew stood stock-still.

  Dickerson fired.

  Andrew stood still.

  James almost cried out in joy and relief, but only Dickerson spoke.

  "My God! Have I missed him?" he cried, and stumbled away from his

  position.

  "To your mark, sir," Overton ordered.

  Slowly, so very slowly, Dickerson returned to his mark, like a condemned

  man approaching the gallows.

  Slowly, so very slowly, Andrew raised his gun and fired.

  There was a click. The gun had misfired.

  Slowly, so very slowly, Andrew reset, aimed, and fired again.

  Slowly, so very slowly, Dickerson swayed to the ground.

  Dr. Catlett ran to attend him. He lived for the rest of that day in

  agony, and died that night.

  James and Alfred moved quickly to Andrew, and saw with horror that there

  was a hole in Andrew's jacket, just below his heart, and blood all over

  his boots.

  "I think he pinked me," Andrew said, his face contorted in pain.

  They got him to a surgeon, who took out the bullet and patched him up.

  They got him home and put him to bed.

  102 ALEX HALEY'S QUEEN

  Rachel nursed him, and when she could not, Alfred was always there. He did

  not leave his Massa's room for a month. When Andrew recovered, he gave

  orders that Alfred was to be moved from the slave quarters to a bedroom

  next to his own in the main house.

  Rachel fell to her knees and gave thanks to God for her husband's

  deliverance, but she prayed for the dead man's wife as well.

  "God have pity on her," Rachel begged. "And on her poor child. "

  Mrs. Dickerson had been six months pregnant when Andrew killed her

  husband.

  13

  James attended Andrew at three other duels after that, but none had the

  same impact on him as the first because none of the others was fatal. It

  was enough to satisfy the honor of both antagonists that they had accepted

  the challenge and presented themselves, and they simply fired their guns

  in the air. On two occasions, Andrew got drunk with his opponent

  afterward, and they would end the evening slapping each other on the back

  and laughing about their quarrel, but this never happened in the case of

  those who had slandered his wife.

  Andrew got drunk often in the early days of his friendship with James,

  in the frustrating years of the embargo. Andrew could not bear inactivity

  or indecision. He longed for a chance to trounce the British, he longed

  to test his skill on a real battlefield, and the protracted negotiations

  among America, Britain, and France frustrated him.

  "Let's hit 'em, and hit 'em hard," he cried, but James was never quite

  sure whom he wanted to hit, for Jefferson was included in his

  excoriation. James began to think there might be truth to the stories

  that Andrew had helped Aaron Burr in his wild plans to form a breakaway

  country centered in the

  BLOODLINES 103

  west, if only to provoke a war. For Andrew longed for war.

  Sometimes he would arrive at James's house or, if it was early enough in

  the day, at the store, his speech slurred, and swaying on his feet. James

  would put him to bed to sleep it off, or send Ephraim with a message to

  the Hermitage. Then Alfred would come, hoist his inert Massa over his

  shoulders, as gently as a mother with a babe, and take him home in the

  gig.

  Andrew was only a little drunk on the day he introduced James to his

  friends the Polks. They were at the racetrack, and Andrew's mare,

  Virginia, had won a splendid race and earned a handsome purse. Andrew was

  in an expansive mood, and kept introducing everybody to everyone, as

  though they had never met.

  James already knew the Polks, who were a well-established family in the

  district, and did business with him at his store. He did not know the

  young woman who accompanied them that day, and who wore the black of

  mourning.

  Sarah McCullough, bom Sarah Moore, was from one of the country's oldest

  families. Her grandfather had founded the vast Moorfields estate, and her

  ancestry included Sir John Moore, who had been the Royal Governor of South

  Carolina in the early days of the colony. The family was of hardy,

  Scottish stock, and Sarah, born to wealth, was raised t
o be self-reliant

  and self-sufficient.

  "Never ask anyone to do for you what you cannot do yourself," her father

  told her.

  She could cook and clean and tend the vegetable garden. She was expert

  with horses, and a fair shot with a gun. She could plan elaborate menus

  with economy, and was a gracious hostess. She spoke French fluently, and

  her education had included the classics. She was a caring nurse, and on

  more than one occasion helped the slave women through difficult births.

  She was also beautiful. An awkward gangly girl, and a considerable tomboy

  able to hold her own against her cheerful, pugnacious brothers, she lost

  her teenage angularity, and blossomed into one of the most attractive

  women in the county, with silky, chestnut hair, and limpid, amber eyes.

  By the time she was seventeen, she had her choice of many

  104 ALEX HALEY'S QUEEN

  suitors, and settled for a handsome, adventurous young man, Samuel

  McCullough, who came from good family and shared Sarah's appetite for

  adventure. His parents gave them a pretty house on good land, and several

  slaves, and Sarah's doting father provided her with a bountiful dowry. It

  was a good and happy marriage, and Sarah settled contentedly to her new

  life, though she and Samuel talked frequently of moving west, to the new

  territories, to lead the simple, rustic life of pioneers. When Sarah

  became pregnant, Samuel attended her with affection, and fussed over her,

  and bought her pretty gifts.

  But a young slave girl on the property, Angel, who some said had the gift

  of second sight, told Sarah the news almost before she knew it herself.

  "You's gwine have a baby, Missy," Angel said, and Sarah was astonished

  that Angel was right, and took it to be a good omen.

  She became ill during her pregnancy, and the distraught Samuel rode to

  town, to find a physician. There had been heavy rain, and the rivers were

  swollen. Samuel urged his horse across a fast-flowing creek, but the

  animal lost its footing and master and horse were swept away.

  Sarah's grief was profound, and for weeks she blamed herself for her

  husband's death. She took to her room and her Bible, and family friends

  worried for her mental state. Her father spoke to her, sharply but

  kindly.

  "It is a tragedy," he said, "but it is not the end of the world. You must

  think of your own future, and the child."

  Sarah, raised to an understanding that death is a fact of life, took her

  father's words to heart. To waste her life grieving for Samuel was an

  insult to his memory and could prove to be a tragic misfortune for his

  baby, who would need a father. Her unborn child became her reason for

  living, proof of her husband's love and immortality. Through the child,

  Samuel would live forever. She delivered a healthy baby girl, and named

  her Elizabeth, after the mother of John the Baptist, who had been visited

  by angels, and who was friend to the mother of Jesus. Faced with the

  glory of procreation, Sarah's soul, like Elizabeth's and Mary's before

  her, magnified the Lord.

  But she could not live where she was, for the house and everything about

  her was haunted by the ghost of Samuel. She

  BLOODLINES 105

  moved in with her family, but was not happy. She began to think that she

  needed to move away from everything she had known, to cut all the links

  with Samuel and the past, and create a new life, for herself and for

  Elizabeth. Her father's good friend Thomas Polk offered Sarah and her

  child the hospitality of his home in Nashville. Sarah's father was against

  the idea, for he thought that Tennessee was still the wild and dangerous

  frontier, but Sarah was intrigued by the challenge. She spoke to the

  prescient Angel.

  "Happen you gwine meet a new man dere, Missy," Angel said.

  Sarah persuaded herself that Angel was right. The men of the settled

  states bored her-they were too conscious of her money and her position,

  and their own ambition-and, still young, she yearned for some of the

  adventures she and Samuel had planned.

  She was nineteen when she accepted the Polks' kind offer, and taking only

  Angel with her as a friend and a mammy for Elizabeth, she set off for the

  frontier.

  She settled to the life as if she had been born to it. She loved living

  so close to the edge of civilization, and endured its privations with

  grace and a sense of humor. She stayed in mourning for Samuel for the

  requisite twelve months, but toward the end of that year, she began to

  venture out into society, anxious to enjoy herself to the full. Her first

  outing was on a Saturday. She went with the Polks to the Cloverbottom

  Race Track, enjoyed the fun of the meet, was amused by the slightly

  drunken owner of the horse that had won the biggest purse, and was

  introduced to a handsome and successful Irishman, who was some ten years

  older than herself.

  James, conscious of her widow's weeds, tipped his hat to the lovely young

  woman and welcomed her to Nashville. He could hardly take his eyes off

  her. Her grace and composure reminded him of Rachel, and the twinkle in

  her eyes suggested, as with Rachel, that there was more, something wild

  and capricious, beneath her calm exterior.

  He talked of her all the way home, to Cap'n Jack, and when he got home

  he talked of her to Eleanor and to Sara, and to anyone else who would

  listen. She was just like Rachel, he

  106 ALEX HALEY'S QUEEN

  told them. His family breathed a collective sigh of relief. At last, they

  thought, Jamie had met his bride.

  But James, conscious of her mourning period, did not press his interest.

  It made Eleanor cross.

  "For heaven's sake, Jamie," she snapped, "she is almost out of the

  mourning. And anyway, these things mean nothing here. "

  "It is not polite to 'call on her," James said, dreaming of Sarah.

  "Well, if you don't, someone else will," Eleanor said. "Or do you need

  lessons in the etiquette of the heart?"

  Eleanor's barb had struck a bull's-eye. James, who could be the most

  dazzling and charming seducer of women with whom he did not envisage any

  long-standing relationship, was naive in the face of love. He dreamed of

  Sarah by night, and mooned about her by day, but he had no idea how to

  tell her of his feelings, and was nervous in case she might reject him.

  Sarah was not nearly so coy. She made inquiries about James, and learned

  of his excellent character and obvious eligibility. She called at the

  store on small errands, and it amused her that he, although unfailingly

  charming to her, was always a little tongue-tied in her presence. She made

  it her business to befriend his sisters Eleanor and Sara, who thought her

  splendid. They invited her to a quilting party, and as they sat around the

  frame creating the colorful comforter, they told her of James's interest,

  and laughed at his shy reserve.

  Sarah took matters into her o
wn hands. If he would not come to her, she

  would go to him.

  She talked to Cap'n Jack.

  Cap'n Jack was eager to see his Massa married and with a family. The

  sooner James was settled, the sooner he might decide to fulfill his

  promise, and free his slave. He was completely sympathetic to Sarah's

  cause, because she was a sympathetic woman. Of the many that his Massa

  might choose, Cap'n Jack hoped it would be this one, for Sarah made him

  feel like an equal, despite the vast gulf between them, and he could not

  imagine her lying to him, or treating him, or any of the slaves, badly.

  Angel, Sarah's maid, agreed with this view of her Missy.

  BLOODLINES 107

  "If'n I's gotta be a wit' someone," she said, "druther be wit' her. "

  It was James's habit and pleasure to ride on Sunday mornings, after

  church, to inspect his property. Away from the cotton fields, it was

  lovely land, with several brooks and many shady trees. It pleased James's

  soul to fide through what was his, to breathe the softly scented air, and

  delight in nature.

  "You will never amount to anything."

  He had amounted to something, and would amount to much more yet. He had

  proved his father wrong, and if it was not yet enough, already it was

  considerable.

  It was a warrn and sunny day. Whippoorwills sang in the trees. Squirrels

  darted across the branches. Possums washed themselves at a spring, and

  flocks of tiny quail chased through the grass.

  He saw the horse first, tethered to a sapling. Nearby there was a gig,

  and a picnic basket on the seat. He heard a small cry of alarm, and a

  tiny black woman ran to her mistress and snatched a baby from her breast.

  He saw Sarah, who looked at him and stood, as if surprised. But she

  ignored, for a moment, Angel's pleas to make herself decent.

  Without any sense of urgency, Sarah adjusted her bodice and blouse to

  cover her breast, but not before she was sure James had seen her

  fullness, the rounded, alabaster flesh and the rosy nipple. James, who

  prided himself on being a gentleman, hesitated quite a long time before

  politely averting his eyes.

  He did not see Cap'n Jack crouched in a nearby bush, grinning happily at

  the success of his plot with Sarah. Nor did Cap'n Jack feel the need to

  look away from the seminakedness of the woman he hardly knew.

  I 'Why, sir, you startled me," Sally said, a provocative smile dancing

  at the comers of her lips.

  "My most humble apologies," James responded, as politely. "I shall

  withdraw."

  "There is no need," Sarah said, determined to detain him. "I think I have

  nothing to fear from you."

  "Nothing at all," James agreed, not intending to go.

  108 ALEX HALEY'S QUEEN

  "It's such a pretty spot, and such a pretty day, we came for a picnic,"

  Sarah said. "Should you care to join me?"

  James nodded that he would, and as he dismounted, he thought he saw Cap'n

  Jack in the distance, walking toward him. A tiny trace of suspicion

  tickled at his sense of humor.

  "How did you know about this place?" He came to Sarah and made himself

  comfortable on the grass beside her. "It is private land."

  Sarah's eyes were sparkling, teasing him.

  "Should I leave?" she wondered.

  "Oh, no," James said. "We have my permission to be here. It is my land."

  Cap'n Jack came down the path and went to the gig. He organized lunch

  from the picnic hamper and set it before them. No one made any reference

  to his being there, or expressed any surprise at his presence. James

  leaned back against the tree, at peace with the world. He knew he had

  been most exquisitely conned, and didn't mind at all.

  They passed a pleasant lunch, and found conversation easy between them.

  Cap'n Jack chatted with Angel, a small distance away, and Sarah nursed

  Elizabeth. James could not help but think of his afternoons with Rachel,

  and the better he got to know Sarah, the more she reminded him of Rachel.

  The time came when Sarah needed to go into the bushes, and Angel was

  dozing, so James took Elizabeth, and held the child while her mother was