Eagle's Cry: A Novel of the Louisiana Purchase by David Nevin Page A

Virginia gave him that he took as a special slight. He’d never forgiven Tom or Virginia.
    But his ultimatum now raised a new problem. If electors voted two-by-two for Tom and Burr, each man would emerge with seventy-three electoral votes, and they would be tied. That would throw the election into the Congress, and the House still sitting was firmly in control of old-line Federalists consumed by fear of the new, and then anything could happen.
    It was an immense danger but easily solved. Short Burr a single vote here, and there could be no tie. “Tell Aaron not to worry; we’ll guarantee him a solid twenty votes.”
    But Gelston jabbed his finger. “We must have the full twenty- one . Nothing less will satisfy!”
    “Look, young man,” Madison snapped, “it has nothing to do with Aaron; the risk of a tie is what matters.”
    “Forget that,” Gelston said. “We’ve already solved that—arranged for a couple of short votes in the North. Colonel Burr doesn’t want an equal total; he just wants Virginia to pay him the respect that is his due.”
    “Does Aaron really endorse this claptrap?” Madison asked.
    “Certainly, because he stands for New York, and New York, sir, is watching! Any fool can see that Virginia aims to rule or ruin. Biggest state, ran the war, ran the Constitution, ran the government. Adams not a Virginian, and we threw him out. Well, New York is coming up; we have our pride.
We don’t intend to submit to Virginia, and you’d better believe it.”
    The young man leaned forward in his intensity, fist doubled and beating on his thigh for emphasis. “Look, Mr. Madison, I can see you don’t care much for me. Probably you see me as a typical New Yorker, crass, competitive, not a real gentleman. Well, I don’t much like you, either, living on a plantation with a passel of slaves to keep you comfortable, and you’re oh, so polite, so gentlemanly, drinking your tea with your finger stuck out, darkies bringing you Madeira.”
    Gelston laughed without mirth. “It’s time you got used to New York, for we’re coming into our own. Winning there gave Mr. Jefferson the election, and that was Colonel Burr’s doing. So we want the honor due us. You slap us in the face with a twenty vote and we won’t take it!”
    He stood abruptly and cracked his hands together. “You go wrong on this, and I promise you you’ll split the party wide open. That is Colonel Burr’s message, and it is totally real. Please take it very seriously.”
    Madison stood. “Good day,” he said. He didn’t offer to shake hands, nor did Gelston.
    When Madison was troubled—and he was very troubled now—he liked to put a good horse under him and take to the country. He was trotting along a little used lane, passing fields still covered with slash, fruit trees banked against cold, a herd of cattle that would dress out, to his practiced eye, at a hundredweight below his own cattle on Montpelier.
    At a small creek he swung down and hobbled the horse to let it drink and crop the abundant grass near the water. He paced the bank. If he protected against a tie but raised the specter of North and South at each other’s throats on the eve of triumph, what had he gained? And then, smiling sourly, he had to admit that he wasn’t all that selfless either. Now that the prize was in sight, he wanted it!
    So did Dolley. She hadn’t said much, but he knew her well. And Burr had another claim on them. He had introduced
them in Philadelphia and Madison recognized that as a debt, for she had reshaped his life. She was gorgeous with her robust figure and striking color. He was a gnomish little fellow with a soft voice, a bit the looby in society, but a beautiful woman loved him! He felt a personal triumph when she turned heads. And so he was what he was and on the whole was satisfied with that. He had a powerful mind—a fact he had demonstrated too often for self-doubt—though that was poor consolation when he was with men who were tall,