Free Gone to Texas by Jason Manning Page B

adversary lingered for some time at death's door."
    "I believe he will survive, Mr. President."
    Jackson nodded, stopped suddenly, and turned to face Christopher. "I could intervene on your behalf. Perhaps have you reinstated."
    'I would rather you didn't do that, sir."
    "Indeed? Why not? I've done it before."
    "Yes, sir. I know."
    "You don't approve."
    Christopher decided to be brutally honest. After the events of the past few weeks he did not think he had anything to lose by speaking his mind.
    "No, sir, I don't. By doing so you have undermined Superintendent's Thayer's authority."
    "I am the Commander in Chief. He works for me."
    "Yes, sir. But if you trust a man with a job you should let him do it the way he sees fit."
    A faint smile tugged at Jackson's taut lips. "You do remind me of your father, young man. Indeed you do. You would have made a splendid officer."
    "We'll never know now, will we, Mr. President?"
    Jackson heard the bitterness in Christopher's voice, and while his gaze softened with sympathy his own voice took on a more severe tone.
    "There is nothing to be gained by crying over spilt milk, Mr. Groves. Forgive an old man for prying, but what compelled you to fight this duel?"
    "I'd rather not say, sir. It was a . . . a personal matter."
    "Hmm. Your father's good name, no doubt. Since your adversary was Adam Vickers, I presume it had something to do with Mrs. Emily Cooper."
    Christopher nodded. Jackson pulled out a chair and sat down across from him, wincing as he lifted his long, spindly legs to plant his boots on the corner of the table.
    "Sometimes the price of doing the right thing is high. Believe me, I know whereof I speak. But without honor,without self-respect, all of your victories in life are hollow ones. As you may know, I have engaged in one or two duels myself."
    "They say you've fought a hundred duels."
    "A gross exaggeration. There was that business with Charles Dickinson, of course. Some insist it sprang from a quarrel over a horse-race bet. But Dickinson's tongue became too loose when he drank a lot of whiskey, and he made the mistake of insulting my wife. He also called me—let's see, what was it? Oh yes—a scoundrel, a poltroon, and a coward. I had no choice but to obtain satisfaction. I was warned that Dickinson was the best shot in Tennessee, and I believe they were right—his bullet struck me squarely in the chest. But I managed to remain on my feet long enough to return fire and kill him." Jackson paused, his gaze far off as he remembered, and then he added, fiercely, "I would have hit him had he shot me through the brain. His bullet shattered two of my ribs and came perilously close to my heart, and the wound has caused me some little discomfort ever since. But it had to be done."
    Christopher had a hunch that what Andrew Jackson described as "a little discomfort" would be sufficient to incapacitate any normal person.
    "And then there was that business with the Bentons," said Jackson with a rueful smile. "I acted—reluctantly, I must add—as second for Billy Carroll, my brigade inspector during the war, in his duel with young Jesse Benton. I tried to talk them out of it, but to no avail. Both of the lads were wounded in the exchange, though not mortally, praise God. Jesse's brother, Colonel Thomas Hart Benton, took offense at my participation in the affair. To this day I am not certain why. But he made such a noise about it, attaching all manner of vile adjectives to my name in public, that I swore I would horsewhip him at the first opportunity."
    Jackson suddenly began to cough violently. The attacklasted almost a minute. When it had passed, he wiped his eyes with a trembling hand and proceeded with his narrative as though nothing had happened.
    "The opportunity came a few months later, in Nashville. John Coffee and I were walking to the post office from the Old Nashville Inn when we saw Benton standing in the doorway of the City Hotel. John and I went on to the post office,