Part 19 (1/2)
”If you say so,” Kimball replied.
”I do say so,” she answered seriously. ”I know what I want, and I aim to get just that, nothing less.” She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. ”Some ways, we're very much alike, you and I.”
”That's a fact,” he said. With a scowl, he went on, ”If you're going to tease me, pick another time. I've got a little too much whiskey in me to take kindly to it tonight.”
”That's frank enough.” She appraised him as frankly. ”But I'd already made up my mind that I wasn't gong to tease you if I found you tonight: I was going to invite you up to my room. I just told you, I know what I want, and I aim to get it.”
He thought about turning her down to prove she couldn't take him for granted. It might make her respect him more. It might also make her furious. And he didn't want to turn her down. He wanted to throw her down on a big soft bed and take her while she clawed his back to ribbons. If she had something like that in mind, he was ready, willing, and able-he hadn't drunk so much as to leave him in any doubts on that score.
”We're ahead in the Seventh in Tennessee,” a man at the telegraph tickers announced, which produced a new roar of applause. Through it, the fellow went on, ”That's around Nashville. They had the d.a.m.nyankees occupying them-they got themselves some debts to pay.”
Another Freedom Party man was keeping an eye on a different telegraphic instrument. ”The Redemption League looks like they're gonna win themselves a seat in Texas,” he said. ”Ain't as good as if we did it, but it's the next best thing.”
”How long do you want to stay here?” Anne asked.
”Up to you,” Kimball answered. ”We've already done about as much as I reckoned we could, and there's a lot of votes out there waiting to be counted. Maybe we really will get ten seats, the way Featherston said we would.”
”That would be remarkable,” Anne said. She echoed his own thought: ”Most brags before an election turn to wind the second the voting's done.” She slipped her arm into his. ”Shall we go celebrate, then? My motorcar's a couple of doors down.”
She was still driving the spavined Ford she'd got after the C.S. Army commandeered her Vauxhall. That told Kimball she hadn't come all the way back from the financial reverses she'd taken during the war. But then, who in the Confederate States had? He wondered what would have become of him had he not had more than usual skill with a deck of cards.
The Charleston Hotel was a large building of white stucco with a colonnaded entranceway. An attendant took charge of the Ford as if it had been a Vauxhall. The house detective didn't blink an eye as Kimball got into the elevator with Anne.
Their joining was fierce as usual, as much a struggle for dominance as what a lot of people thought of as lovemaking. When it was good, as it was tonight, they both won. Afterwards, they lay side by side, lazily caressing each other and talking...politics.
”You were right, Roger,” Anne said, the sort of admission she seldom made. ”The Freedom Party is is on the way up, and Jake Featherston on the way up, and Jake Featherston is is someone to reckon with.” someone to reckon with.”
”I want to meet him myself,” Kimball said. He tweaked her nipple, gently enough to be another caress, sharply enough to be a demand and a warning. ”You owe me that, seeing as I was right.”
She knocked his hand away and answered with more than a hint of malice: ”What makes you think he'd want to meet you you? You were an officer, after all, and he's not what you'd call keen on officers.”
”He's not keen on rich rich officers,” Kimball retorted. ”You ever saw the farm I grew up on, you'd know I'm not one of those. He'll know it, too.” officers,” Kimball retorted. ”You ever saw the farm I grew up on, you'd know I'm not one of those. He'll know it, too.”
He saw he'd surprised her by answering seriously. He also saw his answer wasn't something she'd thought of herself. ”All right,” she said. ”I'll see what I can do.” She rolled toward him on the broad bed. ”And now-”
He took her in his arms. ”Now I'll see what I can do.”
Cincinnatus Driver wished he didn't keep getting s.h.i.+pments for Joe Conroy's general store. He wished he could stay away from Conroy for the rest of his life. Like so many wishes, that one wasn't granted. He couldn't turn down deliveries to Conroy's. If he started turning down deliveries to one storekeeper, he'd stop getting deliveries to any storekeepers.
He also wished his rattletrap truck had winds.h.i.+eld wipers. Since it didn't-he counted himself lucky it had a motor, let alone any fripperies-he drove from the Ohio to the corner of Emma and Blackwell as slowly and carefully as he could, doing his best to peer between the raindrops spattering his winds.h.i.+eld. His best was good enough to keep him from hitting anybody, but he clucked to himself at how long he was taking to drive across Covington.
”And when I finally get there, I get to deal with Joe Conroy,” he said. He talked to himself a lot while driving, for lack of anyone else with whom to talk. ”Won't that just make my day? Sour old-”
But, when he hauled the first keg of mola.s.ses into the general store, he found Conroy in a mood not merely good but jubilant. He stared suspiciously at the fat storekeeper; Conroy wasn't supposed to act like that. Conroy didn't usually sign the s.h.i.+pping receipt till Cincinnatus had fetched in everything, but he did today. ”Ain't it a beautiful mornin'?” he said.
Cincinnatus looked outside, in case the sun had come out and a rainbow appeared in the sky while his back was turned. No: everything remained as gray and dark as it had been a moment before. Nasty cold drizzle was building toward nasty cold rain; he didn't relish the upcoming drive back to the wharves.
”Tell you straight out, Mistuh Conroy, I've seen me a whole h.e.l.l of a lot of days I liked the looks of better,” he answered, and went back out into the wet to fetch some more of what Conroy had ordered. The sooner he got it all into the store, the sooner he could get away.
When he came inside again, Joe Conroy said, ”Didn't say it was pretty out. I said it was a beautiful mornin', and it d.a.m.n well is.”
”I ain't got the time to play silly games.” Cincinnatus spoke more rudely to Conroy than to any other white man he knew, and enjoyed every minute of it. ”Tell me what you're talkin' about or let it go.”
Conroy was in the habit of making noises about what an uppity n.i.g.g.e.r Cincinnatus was. He didn't even bother with those today. ”I'll tell you, by Jesus,” he answered. ”I sure as h.e.l.l will tell you. It's a beautiful mornin' on account of the Freedom Party won eleven seats in the Congress down in Richmond, and the Redemption League took four more.”
That didn't make it a beautiful morning for Cincinnatus-but then, Cincinnatus, though he'd had to work with the Confederate diehards in Kentucky, wasn't one himself. His considered opinion was that a black man would have to be crazy to want the Stars and Bars flying here again. The Stars and Stripes weren't an enormous improvement, but any improvement, no matter how modest, seemed the next thing to a miracle to him.
Then he thumped his forehead with the heel of his hand. He might not be crazy, but maybe he was stupid. ”That's how come I've seen 'Freedom!' painted on about every other wall this past couple weeks,” he said. how come I've seen 'Freedom!' painted on about every other wall this past couple weeks,” he said.
”Sure as h.e.l.l is,” Conroy said. ”Those folks is gonna do great things for the country-for my my country.” His narrow little eyes probed at Cincinnatus. Cincinnatus stared back impa.s.sively. He didn't want Conroy to know what he was thinking. The storekeeper grunted and went on, ”Reckon there'll be a Freedom Party startin' up in Kentucky any day now.” country.” His narrow little eyes probed at Cincinnatus. Cincinnatus stared back impa.s.sively. He didn't want Conroy to know what he was thinking. The storekeeper grunted and went on, ”Reckon there'll be a Freedom Party startin' up in Kentucky any day now.”
”How do you figure the USA's gonna let you get away with that?” Cincinnatus asked in surprise. ”They ain't gonna let there be no party that don't really belong to the United States at all.”
Joe Conroy looked sly. He might not have been all that smart, but he was one crafty devil: that much Cincinnatus could not help but recognize. ”They let Reds operate in the USA, don't they?” he said. ”It's a free country, ain't it? Says it is, anyways-says it out loud, bangin' on a big drum. If the Freedom Party, say, wants to try and get the votes to take Kentucky back into the CSA, how can they stop us from doin' that?”
He looked smug, as if certain Cincinnatus could have no answer. But Cincinnatus did have an answer, and gave it in two words: ”Luther Bliss.”
”Huh,” Conroy said. ”We'll handle him, too, when the time comes.”
Cincinnatus didn't argue, not any more. Arguing with a fool had always struck him as a waste of time. And Conroy sure as h.e.l.l wasn't all that smart if he thought he could handle Luther Bliss. Cincinnatus had his doubts about whether Apicius Wood could handle Bliss if he had to. Apicius, he judged, had the sense not to try, but then Apicius really was pretty smart.
”Let me get the rest of your stuff,” Cincinnatus said. If he wasn't face-to-face with Conroy, he couldn't possibly argue with him.
The storekeeper wanted to keep on jawing, but Cincinnatus didn't have to play, not today he didn't. With Conroy's receipt in his pocket, all he had to do was finish the delivery and get out. He did exactly that.
As he drove back up toward the river, he really noticed how many walls and fences had FREEDOM FREEDOM! painted on them. The word had replaced the blue crosses and red-white-red horizontal stripes as the diehards' chosen scribble.
He didn't like what he'd heard about the Freedom Party. That put it mildly. The local papers said little about the outfit; these days, they did their best to ignore what went on in the Confederate States. But word drifted up out of the CSA even so, word spread on the black grapevine that ran alongside and occasionally overlapped the one the diehards used. None of that word was good. And now the Freedom Party had done better in the elections than anyone expected. That was not good news, either.
When he got home that evening, he told Elizabeth what he'd heard from Conroy. She nodded. ”White lady I clean house for, she was talkin''bout the same thing on the telephone. She sound happy as a pig in a strawberry patch.”
”I believe it,” Cincinnatus said. Kentucky had been taken out of the USA by main force at the end of the War of Secession. It had been dragged back into the United States the same way during the course of the Great War. A lot of Kentuckians-a lot of white Kentuckians-wished the return had never happened. Cincinnatus went on, ”The government ever lets people here vote for the Freedom Party, they ain't gonna like the votes they see.”
Elizabeth sighed. Part of the sigh was weariness after a long day. Part of it was weariness after living among and having to work for people who despised her the second they set eyes on her. She said, ”Reckon you're right. Wish it wasn't so, but it is.”
”Pa's right,” Achilles said cheerfully. ”Pa's right.” He didn't know what Cincinnatus was right about. He didn't care, either. He had confidence that his father was and always would be right.
Cincinnatus wished he had that same confidence. He knew all too well how many mistakes he'd made over the years, how lucky he was to have come through some of them, and how one more could ruin not only his life but those of his wife and little son. Slowly, he said, ”Maybe we ought to talk some more about pullin' up stakes, Elizabeth. We can do it. Don't need no pa.s.sbook, not any more.”
”We got us a lifetime of roots in this place,” Elizabeth said. She'd said the same thing when Cincinnatus brought up the idea of leaving Covington earlier in the year.
He hadn't pressed her very hard then. Now he said, ”Sometimes the only thing roots is good for is gettin' pulled out of the ground. Sometimes, if you don't pull 'em out, they hold you there till somethin' cuts you down.”
Instead of answering directly, Elizabeth retreated to the kitchen. Over her shoulder, she said, ”Go set yourself down. Smells like the ham is just about ready.”
Sit himself down Cincinnatus did, but he didn't abandon the subject, as his wife plainly hoped he would. ”I been thinkin' about this,” he said. ”Been thinkin' about it a lot, even if I ain't said much. If we leave, I know where I'd like us to go. I been lookin' things up, best I can.”
”And where's that?” Elizabeth asked, resignation and fear mingling in her voice.