Olivia thought she saw him regretting the offer the moment it was spoken, but
she accepted it anyway. “I love riding bareback. My Uncle Scruggs used to take
me all the time, when I was little. He didn’t care much about the things people
say little girls aren’t supposed to do. And I’m dressed for it.” She tugged at the
sides of both trouser legs and did a little curtsey.
“Well, all right then. You shouldn’t be on the trail alone, especially without a
weapon. So I guess I’ll start a fire and do you for a cup of coffee. Feel free to have a look-see around. Go inside if you want.”
She wasted no time, climbed the three steps to the porch, and lifted the latch
on the door. The small cabin was simple, but the most perfect home she’d ever
seen. She stood in the doorway, nodding her approval. He had stripped the bark
from the logs and treated them, so the walls glowed a bright reddish brown. The
chinking was all even-colored clay – no rags, moss, or newspapers – neatly done and kept in good repair. A stone fireplace and chimney rose from the back of the
cabin. Not far from it stood a double bed, covered by a feather comforter and with three big pillows propped against the headboard. A lantern hung at the side
of the bed, at just the right height for reading. Two cheerful rag rugs gave color
to the room. Two windows – real glass windows – let in the rays of afternoon light. He had tacked pictures to the wall on either side of one of the windows.
One a portrait of George Washington, the other of Andrew Jackson. Next to
Andrew Jackson was a framed document under glass. She looked closer and saw
that it was the deed to Jeremy’s land, signed by none other than Andrew Jackson
himself.
“Your home is beautiful.” She rejoined him outside. “I see you are a big
admirer of Andrew Jackson. Because of New Orleans?”
“No.” Jeremy shook his head as he finished laying a fire in the pit in the yard.
“I agree with an article I read when he was President – killing two thousand five
hundred Englishmen in New Orleans hardly constitutes a proper qualification for
the Presidency. And that’s absolutely right. But Jackson’s more than a general.”
“My father used to say it was Adams who can write against Andy who can
fight.”
“Well, lots of people thought like that, but that just means your father wasn’t
the only one who was wrong. It was Andy who believes in the rights of man against Adams who believes in the rights of property. Too bad Jackson couldn’t
run again, but I guess he’s too old and sick, even if he had been allowed.”
Jeremy struck a flint to light the fire.
“How can you call a person who owns slaves a believer in the rights of man?”
Jeremy sat back on his heels. “That is a problem. But he did take six hundred
free black men with him to fight in New Orleans. Stood up to a lot of protest about that. That’s more than most white men have ever done. He didn’t invent slavery and he’s always opposed succession from the Union. The good he has
done this country far outweighs whatever support he has lent to that unfortunate
institution.”
“Unfortunate institution!” Olivia remembered the article in the newspaper
that had called people like Mourning the unwanted debris of an unfortunate
institution. “It’s not an unfortunate institution! It’s a crime. A sin.”
“Yes.” He got to his feet. “It surely is. So is the way we treat the Indians.
