Land of the Free by Jeffry Hepple Read Free Book Online Page A

inherited her name and her gift for
language.”
    She gave him another smile.
“I would like to have something of La Malinche in me.”
    “But,” he said, thinking.
“Does that not make you a Spanish aristocrat?”
    “No, no.” She shook her
head. “My forefather’s half brother was Don Martín Cortés, the
second Marqués del Valle de Oaxaca and the heir of Hernán Cortés.
His mother was Juana de Zúñiga. Their descendents are the
aristocrats. We, the children of La Malinche, are
Mestizo.”
    “Mestizo? I’m not familiar
with that word. Is it Spanish?”
    “Spanish and Portuguese. It
refers to people in the Americas of mixed European and Indian
ancestry.”
    He nodded. “I
see.”
    “Are you married?” she asked
abruptly.
    He was surprised by the
question. “Married? Me?”
    She giggled.
    “No. No, I’m
not.”
    “Engaged?”
    He gave her a strange look.
“Why do you ask?”
    She shrugged. “I thought we
were getting to know each other.”
    “Oh, I see,” he said, after
a moment. “No. That is, no, I’m not married or engaged.”
    “Are your parents
living?”
    He shook his head. “Both of
them died in the war. Yours?”
    “I don’t know. They were
both still alive when I was kidnapped.”
    “Kidnapped?”
    “Taken by the Apaches. Isn’t
kidnapped the right word? My English is imperfect.”
    “Your English is quite
perfect and kidnapped is the correct word. But for some reason…” He
shrugged.
    “Oh, oh, I see. You’re
thinking of me as a slave.”
    “No. Of course not. That
is…”
    “Slaves are not kidnapped,
they are procured. Am I right?”
    “No. The word I had in mind
was captured. I didn’t…”
    “You needn’t be so
defensive. Many otherwise decent people find it acceptable that
human beings are kidnapped and sold at auction.”
    “No,” he protested. “I
mean…”
    “How many slaves does your
family own?”
    “None. Not one.”
    “How many slaves does
President Jefferson own?”
    “I could not even hazard a
guess. But I know that he intends to introduce a bill that will
outlaw the importation of slaves.”
    “But not a bill to outlaw
the owning of slaves.”
    “The southern states would
secede from the Union if he tried.”
    “Then they would perish as
they should. All the manufacturing is in the north.” She pointed
ahead. “That is the courthouse.”
     
    ~
     
    The court clerk examined the
document. “This is incorrect.” He pushed it back across the counter
then produced a new blank.
    Yank and Marina exchanged a
horrified look. “You mean I have to go back to that slave trader
and start all over again?” Yank asked.
    The clerk looked bored. “Who
owns the slave?”
    “Well…” Yank stammered. “I
do, but I want her freed.”
    “Then you should have signed
the emancipation document, not the trader.” He pointed at the blank
form. “Fill this out.” He looked past Yank. “Next.”
    “Hold on,” Yank insisted. “I
paid a thousand dollars for that.” He tapped the signed
form.
    “Then you were swindled.
Please step aside so that others can be served.”
    “ No,” Yank protested. “Not
until you tell me what I must do to free this woman.”
    The clerk rolled his eyes.
“I just told you. Fill out the new form and sign it.”
    “And then what?”
    “Go to the end of this line
and I’ll process you in turn.”
    “How much does it
cost?”
    “Fifty cents.” He leaned to
the side. “Next, please. Step up.”
    Marina took Yank’s arm and
guided him toward the long desk mounted on the wall.
    “I paid that bastard a
thousand dollars,” Yank muttered.
    “Please, I beg you. Fill out
the form.”
    Cursing under his breath,
Yank completed the form, joined the line and paid the half dollar
to have the document registered. “So she’s free now?” Yank asked
the clerk.
    “As free as you or me,” the
man replied. “Assuming you’re free.”
    Marina pulled Yank toward
the door before he could respond. “Please.”
    Grumbling, he gave