Neely hung on to his composure. He said, "Thank you," and cleared his throat. "I saw it as ironic that regular-army Negro soldiers, members of the 9^ th and 10^ th Colored Cavalry, were made to unload the Rough Riders' gear from the ship while Teddy and his volunteers, amateurs, really, marched off to meet the enemy. And when they walked into an ambush, at Las Guasimas, it was the colored boys along with the 71^ st Infantry who came along to prevent Teddy's boys from being wiped out. How could something like this happen? Incompetent leadership. Remember "Fighting Joe' Wheeler, the Confederate general? He was in charge of cavalry, an old man with a white beard. At Las Guasimas, as the dons finally retreated, "Fighting Joe," living in the past, was heard to say, "Boys, we got the Yankees on the run!" American soldiers won this war, Mr. Boudreaux, despite the incompetence of their leaders, especially General Shafter, who was in command. He did suffer from gout and a touch of malaria; all the same even Teddy thought him utterly inefficient. The food was awful or nonexistent. The supply line from Siboney to the front never better than a trickle of whatever was needed to fight a war. Medical facilities were a joke-though not to the wounded lying out in the sun. We lost over two hundred men killed and another twelve hundred wounded. All abdominal wounds were fatal."
"That's interesting," Boudreaux said.
The only rise Neely was able to get from him.
"Why did our army and our navy appear to have separate goals? Why didn't Sampson's fleet bombard San Juan Heights before the assault?"
Boudreaux said, "You're not asking me, are you?"
"We had seventeen thousand troops in the campaign. A third of them were sent to take a village called El Caney, defended by five hundred Spanish soldiers. Our boys spent nine hours at the task, when they could've been used in the assault on San Juan Heights."
Boudreaux yawned.
He actually did, yawned in Neely's face. It did not deter the Chicago Times correspondent.
"The brigade under General Hawkins was to lead the assault but due to mix-ups and misgivings-again, poor leadership-it was delayed, the troops pinned down. But then a hero emerged, the brigade quartermaster, of all people, a Lieutenant Jules Ord, jumped up to lead the charge, inspiring men of the 6^ th and 16^ th Regiments, yelling, "Come on, you fellows! Come on! We can't stop here!" They charged into the withering fire of Spanish Mausers and took the hill. This day to mark in our memories, July first, 1898." Boudreaux raised his glass. "To our boys."
"Many of them now down with yellow fever." Boudreaux sipped his drink, then shook his head. "A shame."
"We were poorly armed," Neely said, "compared to the dons. Their Mausers fired smokeless rounds; the Springfields most of our boys had gave off plumes of white smoke when fired, revealing the rifleman's position."
Boudreaux was looking toward the arched entrance again. "Clara Barton came to the field."
Boudreaux said, "Good old Clara," and glanced at Neely. "Can you guess who's coming here, to see me?"
The man so confident, more relaxed than he had any right to be. Neely was going to say "Amelia," but changed his mind and shook his head.
"I give up."
"Lionel Tavalera," Boudreaux said, "the Guardia major, and if he finds you here… If you haven't heard, Spain still runs Havana and American correspondents are not allowed in the city."
"They are," Neely said, "if you have a Double Eagle for the harbor police. I got here on a Norwegian cattle boat out of Santiago. It happened to pull in there looking for coal." He paused to sip his drink before bringing up what was foremost on his mind.
"I spoke to Amelia. She's in the lobby."
"Sitting there for a couple of days now," Boudreaux said, "waiting for someone, but won't tell me who. Did she happened to mention what she's up to?"
Neely shook his head. "But I think she looks-I was going to say no worse for wear, but actually she looks better than ever. Don't you agree?"
"Other than the hair, yes, still quite lovely."
"I understand you met with her. And got on your knees begging her to come back."
"I'm sure you recognized that as a figure of speech," Boudreaux said. "Our relationship, at the moment, is in negotiation. After all, I did put up a great deal of money when her life was at stake. She respects that."
"You make it sound like a business arrangement." "It does have that tenor, doesn't it?" "You think you'll get back together?"
"I think Amelia will always go to the highest bidder." "She seems quite self-sufficient to me."
"Or, as you were going to say, no worse for wear," Boudreaux said. "The sunburn and callused hands might indicate a spirit of enterprise, but what did she get for her effort? Has she told you about it?"
"You know I was with her out in the country."
"With that bandit, Islero. But that was the last you saw of her."
"I got a ride to Key West on a monitor and went on to Tampa, where the troops were assembling. I can't tell you what a mess that was. Confusion reigned, trains backed up all the way to Columbia, South Carolina."
"You're full of war stories, aren't you, Neely?"
"Once I get talking about it. I'm sorry, I interrupted you." "Amelia hasn't told you of her adventures?" "She told me she was ill for quite some time." "That's all?"
"We only spoke for a few minutes. She seemed to want to be by herself."
"You don't want to betray her confidence," Boudreaux said, "as I trust you will keep what I tell you in confidence. Is it agreed?"
"Of course."
"You can give me your views after. So, who should come to see me but Lionel Tavalera. He's not out in Oriente defending his country's honor, no, he comes to deliver Amelia-not as a courtesy, mind you, but expecting a reward. It's the reason he wants to meet this morning, I'm sure, to badger me again. He arrives with Amelia in tow, I thank him for rescuing the dear girl, and he tells me, no, he didn't save her, he captured her. He tells me it was her scheme from the beginning to get hold of the ransom money and she got the cowboy and my segundo to help her. I asked him, what about Novis? He said no, they used Novis."
Neely interrupted. "I haven't seen him around."
"I fired him."
"I'm sorry, go on."
"I asked Tavalera, where's the money now? You understand, since Amelia obviously doesn't have it. Lionel said he didn't know. I asked him when it was he became aware of this conspiracy. On that score he's vague or makes no sense. I think he found out about it early on and planned to grab the loot for himself. Why not? So I asked Amelia. I said tell the CUBA and all will be forgiven, a lesson learned with relatively little harm done."
"Business is business."
Boudreaux shrugged. "If you like. I asked Amelia what happened to the money, and you know what she told me? Victor has it, my segundo. Victor? If it's true and you appreciate irony, then you must see this as a glaring example, the humble servant rides off with forty thousand dollars of his master's hard-earned cash."
Neely couldn't help but smile.
Boudreaux accepted it with a weary expression. "I thought you'd like that, a happy ending for the poor Cuban. Meanwhile, I have no idea what's happened to the cowboy. Amelia doesn't seem to know either. She resides in her own room here at the Inglaterra, under what Tavalera calls 'house arrest." That applies to me, also. I can't leave the premises until he decides how much of a reward he wants. He claims he could even have us, as he puts it, 'jailed with every courtesy." I mentioned that Spain still rules here, under the temporary articles of surrender, but with no advice from Madrid. So, I bide my time."
"Knowing," Neely said, "you'll be back in business before too long."
"If not sooner," Boudreaux said.
"But did Amelia actually admit she planned the whole thing, to run off with the money?"
"She did, while looking me straight in the eye." "Contrite about it?"
"If she were, she wouldn't be Amelia, would she?" Boudreaux smiling just a little. "And I doubt if either of us would hold her in such high esteem."