The Whiskey Rebel

“Phineas?” Skye said. “I thought he hated you.”

“Phineas is confused. Not yet a man, no longer a child, he’s been through more than anyone should be asked to endure. But, in the end, he knew who his true enemy was.”

“Why is that?” asked Jericho. “Because you told him? You said, Let’s kill Tindall, and he did it? Or did you have to cast your witch’s spell first?” Dalton began to say something to silence him, but Jericho held out a hand in defiance. “And now what? We wait for him to be caught, so he can link you to the murder, and then us?”

Perhaps I ought to have hated being so challenged, but I did not. I liked it. All three of them would have their doubts; better they should be voiced, and better if the questions were asked harshly by Jericho so the others would feel inclined to aid me. Perhaps neither would challenge him. Dalton might prefer to keep an open mind, and Skye might not wish to confront Jericho directly, but it was of no matter. They would counter his arguments in their own minds. They would silently resist him, resent his harshness to a grieving lady, and that, it seemed to me, would make them all the more agreeable.

“Phineas has gone off to the wilderness to kill Indians,” I explained, “but first he left a letter with Mr. Brackenridge confessing to the crime and making himself the sole actor in it. He seems enamored of the idea of being an outlaw.”

“This is fantastical,” Jericho said. “I am sorry, Mrs. Maycott. I know you’ve suffered, but you’ve also sold my home out from under me, and I must speak the truth. How do we even know you were there?”

I set forth on the table what remained of the banknotes Phineas had given me.

Skye picked them up and looked through them. “It looks like she was there,” he said.

“Colonel Tindall thought he was above the law,” I said. “Now he is not.”

“And what about you?” Jericho asked. “Are you above the law?”

“I am in the right, which is much the same thing. Mr. Richmond, you act as though I somehow put you in this situation. I am not the one who passed an excise law or enforced it here with blood and murder. I have been made a sacrifice to the greed of men back east-men like Alexander Hamilton and William Duer, who have turned their backs on the Revolution in order to fill their purses.”

“Listen to you,” he said. “You are putting yourself in the middle of affairs that are not your concern.”

I slapped my hand hard against the table, rattling the dishes. “I believe, sir, I have been thrust into the middle of these affairs, and that makes them my concern. Did not William Duer himself lie to my husband to convince him to trade his war debt for land-land he knew to be useless and debt he knew to be valuable, and yet he told us just the opposite? Someone might object that we ought to have known better, that we should not have been so easily cozened, but he claimed proximity to Hamilton himself. He claimed to speak nearly on behalf of the government.”

“No one doubts his villainy,” Richmond said.

I would not let him continue. “We come here, to this wasteland, and find that Duer’s man Tindall rules over us with a tyra

“It’s a pretty speech,” Skye said, “and what you say is nothing but truth, but I don’t believe you say these things only for truth’s sake. You obviously have something on your mind. Best you let us hear it now.”

I steeled myself, for what I was about to propose was certainly madness, yet I believed it could be done. “Mr. Brackenridge believes he can make a sale within the next month. Perhaps even sooner. But thanks to Tindall’s generosity, we need not wait before deciding what to do.”

“We will find somewhere else to set up,” said Mr. Dalton. “Buy a new still and begin production once more.”

Mr. Skye spooned a portion of the stew into his mouth and then wiped his lips with a napkin. “I don’t see how. No matter where we go, we will still face the excise. Even if we flee the four counties for Kentucky or Virginia, we will face the whiskey tax and there will be established distillers to resent our intrusion into their business.”

“This money from Tindall is to be split among us. I ca

“You mean revenge, don’t you? Revenge against whom?” asked Mr. Skye. “Do you mean to serve Hamilton and Duer as you did Tindall?”

Here was my moment to be careful in how I spoke-careful but commanding. I would need to convince them to follow me, but I would also need to convince them of my boldness, to show them I was determined and capable but not mad.

“It is precisely what I mean.” I spoke with cool determination, the end result of careful deliberation. “It is they who conspired against us and continue to conspire against us. What is more, they conspire against the nation by trying to unmake the principles of the Revolution.”

Mr. Dalton looked upon Mr. Skye with astonishment. Only Jericho Richmond acted as though what I proposed was of no moment. He set down his bowl, poured himself a whiskey, and watched his companions closely.

“You’ve lost your mind, lass,” said Mr. Skye, the harshness of the words belied by his gentle tone. “No one here blames your wanting it, mind, but you can’t take revenge against Alexander Hamilton. How will you do it?”

“I know precisely how,” I said. “It was the subject of my novel. I wrote of how a man sought revenge against speculators, and I believe the principles I worked upon in my novel can apply in actuality.”

“But it is pointless,” said Mr. Dalton. “Even if it were possible to hurt these men in any significant way, what should we gain by doing it?”

“Let me explain to you,” I said. “Listen carefully, for you will need to convince at least some of your whiskey boys to sign on. And why should they not? We are all hurt by this tax. If we can take just three or four more men with us, we shall be able to avenge ourselves and maybe even preserve the ideals of the Revolution. We can save our country from its own government.”

Mr. Skye, the only one present who was familiar with the machinations of my lost novel, slowly nodded his head. “When you told me of your fictive story, I thought it remarkable in how very plausible it was. The scheme was audacious, yet it might actually have worked. But when you speak of saving the country, I am far more skeptical. If this thing were to be done, you might destroy the country in saving it.”

“What of it?” I asked. “If this is our country-if it has become nothing but a haven for callous rich men and the lapdogs who would enforce their policies of greed-why should we not risk its destruction?”

“Because we’re all of us patriots,” said Richmond. “Does that answer your question?”

“What does it mean to be a patriot?” I asked. “You love the America in your head and your heart, but is that the same America that takes from poor men money they don’t have so rich men can have a corrupt bank? Is that why you fought in the war? Is that why Andrew fought? Is that why your friends died? They died for liberty, not so that oppression might spring from nearer tyrants. Hamilton ’s bank is not just the newest incarnation of their greed, it is a beast that threatens to destroy everything we believe in.”

“But would you really wish to see the nation brought to its knees, reeling in chaos?” asked Skye.