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| Andrew Jackson 7th President of the United States |
If you've read any of my work, you know how much I love
giving real historical figures cameo roles in my novels (George Washington,
Alexander Hamilton, John Adams, etc.). Sometimes, I will even make them a
secondary character (the Marquis de Lafayette). So, when I needed a courier for
the piece I am currently writing, I thought, "Hmmm. I wonder if any 'Founding Fathers' were young enough to be couriers during the
Revolution." Sure enough, there was one who actually did serve as a
courier: Andrew Jackson.
Unfortunately, there are two tricky parts with Jackson:
1/ The story takes place in Wilmington, DE, and according to
Wikipedia, he lived somewhere on the North and South Carolina border. Close
enough for me. Problem solved. For the purists out there, just think of this
character as inspired by Jackson.
Plus, if this passage remains in the final, I will add something in my endnotes
as I try to do with any liberties I (knowingly) take with history.
2/ Jackson is not exactly a beloved Founding Father. Still,
at the time this story takes place he was probably only nine or ten, so I felt
I could use a little artistic license with his character. I tried to make him
sound intelligent, but somewhat of a schemer.
Here's the passage from my current work-in-progress. I would
love to hear what you think.
The knock sounded again. Louder. More
urgent. Sarah strode to one of the long windows that flanked the front door and
peaked out through dusty curtains. A messenger, no more than a boy, stood on
the porch, hopping from foot to foot and blowing on his clenched hands. In his
armpit, he trapped what looked to be a letter of some kind.
Sarah opened the door.
"Yes?"
"Message for Mr. Garrett,"
the boy squeaked, then went back to puffing on his raw, red hands.
Could it be from her father? Perhaps
he regretted his hasty remarks and was ready to welcome her home. He was a
stubborn man. Still, when he lost his temper, he might not change his mind
easily, but he rarely stayed angry for long.
"I'll take it."
The messenger regarded her
outstretched hand with a dubious eye. "I don't know. I'm supposed to give
this directly to Mr. Garrett." He leaned forward, slanted his head and
gave her a pointed look. "And, only Mr. Garrett."
Sarah shivered. She wanted that
letter, but she had no wish to stand in an open doorway freezing while she
argued with the boy.
"He's not at home at the
moment, but you can wait for him inside." She stepped aside to let him
pass.
"Don't mind if I do." The
boy pushed past her into the foyer with about as much decorum as Molly showed
when the door was opened for her.
It wasn't a large entryway, but the
boy glanced around, his jaw agape. Judging from the thin, patched breaches he
wore, Sarah guessed he came from a home of modest means. Perhaps he even worked
as a courier to support his family.
"What's your name?" Sarah
asked.
"Andy. Andy Jackson." The
boy studied her with close-set eyes that were clear and intelligent
nonetheless.
"Can I get you something to
eat, Andy?" Sarah offered, sensing the boy's trust would not be so easily
earned.
"No, thank you, Ma'am." He
looked around again, jaw clamped firmly shut this time.
"Well, if you change your mind,
I'm sure Mrs. O'Malley could scrounge up some biscuits from the kitchen."
There were always fresh-baked biscuits in Mrs. O'Malley's kitchen. "I
really do not know how long it will be before Mr. Garrett returns."
Andy furrowed his dark eyebrows.
"I gotta be getting back. They're gonna think I skipped out, and I could
lose my post. But, the thing is." He chewed his lip for a moment.
"The thing is, the man who hired me told me I couldn't give this letter to
anyone but Mr. Garrett."
"Hmmm. That is a dilemma."
Sarah tried to look pensive. "But, I assure you, you can trust me to give
it to him on your behalf."
"Look, lady." His guarded
expression belonged on an older man, not on a boy of nine or ten. "I don't
know you. Why should I trust you? You related to Mr. Garrett or
somethin'?"
Sarah thought for a moment. She was
really no more than a temporary houseguest, but that hardly sounded like
someone to whom you would hand a confidential letter. She settled on something
that suggested a closer relationship.
"No, but I am a very close
friend of Mr. Garrett's."
Andy's youthful gaze raked her from
head to toe. "Oh, I see now."
Heat rose to Sarah's cheeks.
"No... I mean... I am... Oh never mind. There's a shilling in it for you
if you give me the letter and be on your way." Sarah did not have a single
cent to her name, but she recalled the coin she had seen lying beneath the
settee in the parlor. She hoped it was a shilling
Without a moment's hesitation, the
boy handed the letter to Sarah and then held out his hand, palm up.
"Just a moment. I will have to
get it."
"Ahem." The boy thrust his
hand forward. "I will need to hold that letter for collateral,
ma'am."
"Oh, very well." She
slapped the letter back in his palm and went to retrieve his payment from
beneath the settee.
When she returned, she placed the
coin in his sweaty palm and recovered the letter from his other hand at the
same time. The boy gave her an impish grin, then darted through the door and
scampered down the long, dirt road the led back into town. Sarah watched him
go, her feelings alternating between exasperation and grudging respect. She had
the odd feeling that child would go far. Still, she wasn't sure if that was a
good thing or a bad thing for the world at large.
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