C. C. Phillips
C. C. Phillips
The cavalry stud had carried Preston more than two miles before the red flush faded from his face.
Rufus Tweed was overjoyed to see the young Diamond return. In his enthusiasm, the big fellow almost capered about the horse and rider. “I knowed yo be gone long tam, Press, but ol' Rufus, he worri'n an fret'n: Mebbe dis tam dat boy don' come back.”
“Well, I am sorry for being gone so much, Rufus. I'll see to Papá's horse and then you and I can make plans for the farm.”
Rufus's eyes lit up at mention of the farm, but he made no comment. Instead he asked, “Mebbe yo got de hongers, Press?”
“Yes, Rufus, if you have any on hand, I could eat a few helpings of that Rufus Stew.”
The black man was so excited to be discussing farm work and making plans for spring planting that he made the conversation rather one-sided. Preston listened without interrupting, but he wondered at the man's ardency; after all, Rufus had handled all the duties and decisions for the Diamond farm since his arrival. Reliable and completely capable, the worker had done as he thought best; Cutler Diamond, a career soldier with no agrarian experience, had not interfered. The hired hand was known to the merchants of Conception and they also realized the regard the Diamonds held for their helper. Rufus ran the farm.
Realization elbowed Preston in the ribs: The new season would be a new beginning for Rufus! Preston had insisted the black man was now a full partner in the farming operation. He was no longer a hired man; he was a farmer. No doubt it would be the biggest event since the former slave's emancipation. Anticipation must have had the fellow chewing his nails down to the first knuckle.
Preston's smile caused Rufus to slow his chatter, a flicker of concern crossed his round face. “Yo okay wid dat plan, now, Press?”
“You bet, Rufus. Whatever you think is good for me. Maybe we want to buy more livestock? Another cow? Pigs? Chickens? Goats? We'll make this place prosper.”
“We don' got 'nough money to be buyin' all dem animals. We gonna grow good crop dis year; mebbe nex' year we buys one mo' cow.”
Preston said, “If you want a cow, we'll buy one right away.”
“Nah, Press, dis farm gwyne be good farm sum day. It got de bes' dirt an' water an' all dat we need. But we don' spen' money dat de farm don' pays. We make de farm grow sum mo' ebbry year an' den little mo' tam, de farm pay mo' an' mo'.
The Diamonds had not been extravagant people. Because they were often on the move, they had not accumulated “stuff” nor spent foolishly. Señora Diamond had a wardrobe of fine clothes that travelled with them from post to post. When Cutler Diamond had bought the little farm along the Patowmack River, he hoped to permanently settle his family and had promised his beautiful wife “a house fit for a princess.” No doubt Constantina would have had that home, but the Civil War stalled Cutler's plans; it stalled the plans of an entire nation. Now, Señora Diamond would never have her castle…. Preston knew the family had wealth but the fact had never influenced him one way or the other. Life was easy for a boy of thirteen years old. Why complicate it with money? Now Preston accepted the advice of his partner and friend. The hidden 'cookie jar' in the farm house contained enough money to buy all of Rufus's dreams, but Preston decided to follow the black man's advice. He did insist they should buy chickens and Rufus liked the idea.
Next day, the partners drove the mule and wagon up to the former hired man's shanty. They loaded the remainder of Rufus's effects, then set to work dismantling the old cabin. Washington made three trips hauling the lumber home. The following day, Rufus and Preston rebuilt the structure to be used as a hen house. Enquiries in the village led them to a farmer who had chickens for sale. A dozen laying hens and a rooster were transported home and locked in the new coop.
Mid-week, a late snow storm swept in from the north-east, burying the farm in a foot of white slush. New projects were postponed and Preston passed a couple of rough days in the formerly happy home. Memories and sadness tortured him. Nighttime, alone in his room, he could hear the reassuring murmur of his parents talking downstairs. Once he crept out of bed and sat at the top of the stair, but the voices vanished. Sleep would finally come when he concentrated on the memory of a pretty farm lass standing beside her washing tub. House-bound during the day, after the necessary outdoor chores were completed, he found solace in the study of his father's army journals:
“Today I passed a few hours in discussion with my new acquaintance, First Lieutenant Ulysses Grant. One has to be cautious in expressing opinions contrary to those of our leaders, but I believe Lieutenant Grant is opposed to this conflict with Mexico. He appeared openly grieved by the shocking atrocities our soldiers (more specifically the volunteers) have subjected the Mexican civilians. Reports are singularly distressing, however I have no first hand observation as yet. I do not know how I might react should I encounter this (rumoured) abusive behaviour…”
Preston had often heard of how the friendship between his father and Grant had evolved. They had initially met on the battlefield.
He skimmed through the pages:
Our regiment swept through a small pueblo this morning. The Mexican force offered little resistance. We bivouacked on the edge of the village. This evening I heard distressful screams coming form one of the adobe homes and hurried to investigate. First Lieutenant Wiley and a volunteer were viciously abusing a young Mexican girl. My temper got the better of me. I beat them both senseless. Because Wiley holds a higher rank than myself, I may face a court-martial. Ulysses says he will speak for me. The man is quite polished and I believe he will smooth over the incident. In any event, I shall never condone Wiley's actions.
Several days later:
Our company encountered a brief flurry of resistance today but the Mexican forces, so inferior in tactics and weaponry, were soon routed. We suffered ten casualties, they lost nearly a hundred soldiers and many more were injured. Prisoners were taken, but we haven't the facilities to deal with them. I would be satisfied to have them disarmed and released.
General Taylor visited our camp. He addressed the report of my beating a superior officer. Fortunately for me, Lieutenant Grant spoke in my defence and the tables were turned on Lieutenant Wiley. The general sternly dressed me down for striking a superior officer, however he worked himself into a rage when reprimanding Wiley for his conduct. Lieutenant Wiley's old grudge against me has renewed force. The man was dripping venom when I chanced to see him looking at me. Ulysses has warned me to “cover my back.”
Captain Everett Wiley was not mentioned again for the duration of the Mexican-American War. Preston assumed that the officer had been transferred or injured and sent home. His father's words further explained a motive for Wiley's vengeance; it also intimated why Señora Diamond had been taken as well.
After the entries concerning the war, Preston followed his father across the Atlantic and read a behindhand entry of the fight with the Spaniard, Christobal Alcarez; the death of Preston's grandfather; and his mother's escape from Queen Isabella. Daily entries were sketchy during Cutler's seasickness en route to Spain and absent during his convalescence on the return voyage. When Cutler was able to write again, the notes focused on his ' beautiful nurse' and soon, his new bride.
Happy times were spent during Diamond's posting at Fort Humboldt with Captain Ulysses Grant. It was there that Cutler was promoted to First Lieutenant. Preston's eyes filled with tears when he read: “Last evening, Lyss came for a visit (he is so fond of Constantina's Spanish cooking). He quite accurately labelled her 'a Diamond in the rough.' How often Preston had heard this term whenever his parents talked of Uncle Ulysses.
The well travelled apple crate contained genealogical records from both his mother's and his father's side of the family; the former in Spanish, the latter in English. Preston was literate and fluent in both languages. The last of the Diamonds, Preston now made a solemn vow to maintain the honour of his father's name. He found other important documents as well and diligently reviewed all the papers. He found a handwritten will, witnessed by Ulysses Grant. The contents inevitably named Preston the soul heir. His mother's wealth, a small fortune in Spanish gold, was secured in a bank vault in Washington, DC.
In the same folder, there was a sealed envelope bearing a name written in Cutler Diamond's elegant script: Ulysses S. Grant. Only the name was included, no address accompanied the letter. Preston could only guess at the contents of the missive but he felt certain it had to do with the event of his father's death. Had Cutler suspected that someone was hunting him? Did he know Señora Diamond's life may be in danger? Maybe not, soldiering is not a secure occupation. But Preston believed there must be more direction written in the journals. Perhaps he should skip the intervening years and begin at the time of Cutler Diamond's engagement in the Civil War. The decision made, Preston dug through the diaries and, to be on the safe side commenced reading the book for 1860. As the years neared the present he perused the writings more closely. His father had moved up the ranks over the years: Cutler became Major Diamond at the outbreak of the current conflict; two years later, General Grant promoted him to Lieutenant Colonel; in mid 1864, his last promotion, Colonel Diamond: associate and advisor to Lieutenant General Grant.
From September, 1864 Preston read the following:
Today I encountered former West Point colleague, Everett Wiley, who now holds the rank of Captain. We have not crossed paths since the Mexican War, however, our differences in the past have not been forgotten. His venomous hatred for me was ill-concealed. The years have not been favourable to the officer; he looks, at best, a decade older than other West Point mates I have met in recent years.
Diamond turned from the book, hoping to read between the lines: Cutler Diamond held rank of Lieutenant Colonel while Wiley had only moved up one grade from the First Lieutenant promotion he'd received during the Mexican/American War. That realization must have chafed the little officer's self-esteem and would have fostered further anger. On another point, Preston wondered, how, or when, did Wiley become informed of the beauty of Señora Diamond? Did he actually see her or was he simply going on hearsay? From the words he had heard while hiding at the top of the stair that night, Preston deduced that the ruffians who died during the attack on his parents knew of Constantina Diamond beforehand; the beautiful lady could have been offered as enticement for the civilian rogues who assisted Wiley. And later, Cyril and Joe, Captain Wiley's soldiers who came to Diamond farm for a visit and wound up staying, spoke coarsely of Señora Diamond, too; Preston had overheard their conversation through the tent wall. In the same conversation they had referred to Wiley as a rapin' ol' bastard.
Unseeing, the boy stared at the journal. He saw his father's crumpled body at the foot of the stair; his mother laying dead on the cold, damp earth in the yard. Tears of sadness steeped with tears of anger trailed down his face. Preston Diamond renewed his vow of vengeance: he would personally escort Captain Everett Wiley to a 'very special' hell.
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