The Whiskey Rebel

T wo hours before the Bingham gathering was scheduled to begin, Leonidas informed me that Mr. Lavien was below and wished to see me. I was already dressed and had no objection to passing time in his company, particularly if he might impart to me some useful information.

He came into my rooms and shook my hand with his usual reserve. I offered him a drink, which he declined, and I was glad of it, for if he took one, I would have been forced to join him, and I wished to remain clearheaded as long as I might.

Once we were seated, Lavien said, “You are rather well dressed this evening.”

“A man ca

He knew my evasion for what it was, but he did not pursue it. Instead, he leaned forward, and there was something rather lively in his eyes. I believe this was what passed for excitement in a man of such rigid control. “I have learned something interesting,” he said, “and I wished to share it with you at once.”

“About Duer?”

“No,” he said. “About Fleet.”

A chill came over me, as though I’d heard a whisper of a dead man’s voice. I now wished heartily I had taken a drink, with or without him. “I told you to leave the matter be.” My voice, not nearly so steady as I would have liked, betrayed my agitation when I wanted cold anger.

“I know you did, and I meant to do what you asked, but then one thing led to another and I ended up doing what I wished to do instead. I don’t know how it could have happened. In any event, you will want to hear what I have to say.”

“No, I won’t.” I rose to my feet.

My disposition had no effect upon him. He remained seated and still, as though we were still engaged in a friendly exchange. “Information once learned ca

I sat, for there was no denying what he said.

“I troubled myself to call upon General Knox, who I thought, as the Secretary of War, might be able to assist me. Indeed, he directed me to some archives that proved useful. You recall, I am sure, Major Brookings.”

I nodded. Of course I remembered him. He was the man who had uncovered the damning evidence in the linings of our travel packs.

“It seems that even after the war’s close, Major Brookings remained interested in your case. He became increasingly convinced that you and Fleet were done a terrible wrong. His notes show that he had found some evidence to at least suggest that the case against you had been fabricated by an enemy-likely British-who wished to see the most effective American spies removed from the field.”

I swallowed hard and did my best to master myself before speaking. “If he thought so, why did he never tell anyone?”

“Based upon what his notes tell me, he wished to form a definitive conclusion and uncover the names of the perpetrators before a

“Murdered?”

Lavien shook his head. “Nothing so mysterious. This was two years ago, and as you will recall, he was not young when you met him. His heart apparently failed him while he was riding with his children. There can be no thought of murder, only ill luck, for him and for you. It is not enough to clear your name absolutely, but it is enough for us to begin making further inquiries.”

“I want you to let it be,” I said. My voice was quiet, and at first I feared he had not heard me. I attempted to speak more forcefully. “You must not pursue this.”

“Is it because you fear Fleet will not, in the end, be proved i

I did not answer him. I would not, and waited for him to excuse himself and leave me be.

Joan Maycott

Spring 1791

Three days after the meeting at the church, we set out on the ride to Colonel Tindall’s home at Empire Hill. It took several hours by horse, so we left early in the morning, that we might be there well before midday. Mr. Dalton thought it dangerous to stay overnight in town; he wished to see Tindall, say what needed saying, and return to our homes before dark.

The journey was tense, and Dalton never once eased up his grip upon his pistol. For my part, I vowed I would not be entirely at their mercy. Since the encounter with the braves, I had made it a point to hide a primed pistol in my skirt or apron. I had learned from Andrew, and I would imitate him if called upon to do so.

We arrived at the estate in a timely fashion and were admitted to a sitting room on the first floor, much more primitive than the room to which we’d been invited on our previous visit. There the floor had been covered with a painted tarp to mimic black and white tiles, but this room had much more rugged furnishings-all wooden-and I quickly surmised that Tindall used this space when dealing with men of the rougher sort. Society friends were invited upstairs.

We took seats in the various chairs and awaited Tindall’s arrival, which happened soon enough. “Good morning, men, Mrs. Maycott,” he said, as he came in the room. “Fair weather we are having, do you not think so?”

“You may keep the pleasantries to yourself,” said Mr. Skye. “That don’t interest us.”

He smirked as though Skye’s response was precisely what he had hoped for, as though we were already falling into his trap. “Then what does interest you?”

“You know why we’re here,” said Mr. Dalton. “Now let’s have your end of it.”

Andrew, during all of this, remained quiet. It had been agreed that it would be wisest to let the others do the talking, for once Andrew or I spoke Tindall could easily accuse us of letting our emotions lead us to rash conclusions.

“Listen to you, putting on airs,” said Tindall. “You may strut around all you like, but I can’t say I have any inkling of what you want. I am a busy man, but as you wish to speak with me, I’ve made myself available. Now it seems you answer my kindness with insult.”

“It is you who insult us,” said Mr. Dalton. “We know perfectly well that you sent those three braves. Had Maycott not shot them, I don’t know how far the incident would have progressed, and I do not care to know.”

“The killing of Indians is a serious business,” said Tindall. “You don’t want to provoke the local savages to violence.”

“I can’t agree,” answered Mr. Skye, “that refusing to be killed is a provocation.”

“The Indians may see it differently,” said Tindall.

“You may end the nonsense,” said Mr. Dalton. “You got no right to tell us what we can and ca

Tindall slammed the butt of his gun upon the floor. “Then answer it!” he roared. His voice was sudden, loud, a challenge so blatant and naked it seemed to me obscene. In the face of it, the three men-Andrew, Dalton, Skye-stood silent and humbled. I saw quite clearly that with me in the room there would be no violence, and Tindall might continue to taunt us as much as he liked.

No one spoke. The silence was thick and full of menace, going on longer than I could have imagined. At last the stalemate was broken when the door opened and the plump Negress whom we’d encountered on our previous visit entered the room. “I see you got yourself some guests, Colonel,” she said. “How come you don’t ask old Lactilla for refreshment? I got biscuits, I got cake, I can make some tea right quick.”

“Good God, gal,” cried the colonel, “if I wish for refreshment, I’ll call for it!”

“Well,” said the woman, “you got that lady here again, and looks like you’re being none too kind to her husband and their friends. Seems to me, if you’re going to be unkind to folks, you might as well give them some tea to make it go down the smoother.”