Blood and iron

He explained what he had in mind for the Freedom Party, finishing, "People are starting to listen to this Featherston. If he says the right things, he might be the one who can haul the country out of the swamp."

"Well," A

Kimball hadn't wanted Featherston listening to her; he'd wanted the Freedom Party leader listening to what he had to say. Maybe A

She laughed. "You're right about that, heaven knows-and so do I, the hard way. I don't know that I want to spend any of my money on the Freedom Party, but I don't know that I don't, either. Let me do some checking around and see if it would be money well spent. If I decide it is, I expect I can find a way to let Featherston know I want to have a talk with him."

She spoke about the Freedom Party as if it were a firm in which she was considering an investment. In a way, that was probably just what it was to her. As far as Roger Kimball was concerned, politics and investments were two separate worlds. Maybe that meant A

When he didn't say anything more, A

"After you, anyone else'd be boring," he answered. This time, pleasure filled her laugh. He went on, "I just didn't reckon it'd work today, that's all."

"You're a smart man," she said. Getting such praise from her pleased Kimball much more than getting it from Clarence Potter had done.

Tom Colleton looked quizzically at A

"What, meet with Jake Featherston?" she asked. Her brother nodded. She exhaled in some exasperation. "Seeing as he's going to be on the train that gets to St. Matthews in half an hour, don't you think it's a little late to worry about that? If I show him up now, I've made an enemy. I'm liable to have made a dangerous enemy. I don't care to do that, thank you very much."

"I suppose you're right-you usually are." Tom still looked unhappy. "I can't say I much fancy what I've heard about him, though."

"Hush," A

The flowered hat she chose had a downturned brim that was also of the latest mode. She didn't know how much attention Featherston paid to fashion. She'd tried to find out what he thought of women; all she'd been able to learn was that he was a bachelor. Not being able to find out more left her obscurely irked.

"Are you sure you want to come along, Tom?" she asked. "One thing we do know is that he doesn't love officers."

"Next enlisted man I meet who does love officers will be the first." Her brother pulled out his pocket watch. "We'd better get going, if you aim to meet him at the station."

"Do you expect the train to run on time?" A

As it happened, the train did run late, but only by twenty minutes or so: hardly enough time in which to start fuming. It pulled into the battered station-not all the damage from the black uprising had been repaired-with wheels squealing and sparking as the brakes brought it to a halt and with black smoke and cinders belching from the locomotive's stack. A

Only two people got off the train in St. Matthews. Since one of them was a fat colored woman, figuring out who the other one was did not require brilliance. The lanky white man dressed in butternut trousers, a clean white shirt, and a straw hat looked around for people to greet him, as any traveler might have done.

"Mr. Featherston!" A

"Right pleased to meet you both," Featherston said, his Virginia accent not bespeaking any great education. When he shook hands with A

"Yes, that's so," Tom said. / wasn*t the only one doing some checking, A

He said, "I'll try not to hold it against you." From the lips of most former noncoms, it would have been a joke. A

A

"I'll take your carpetbag there, if you like," Tom added, reaching out for it.

"Don't bother," Featherston said, and did not hand it over. "I've been taking care of myself a long time now. I can go right on doing it." He nodded to A

He was mostly silent as they walked along: not a man with a large store of small talk. As he walked, he studied St. Matthews with military alertness. He studied A

Back at the apartment, Featherston accepted coffee and a slice of peach pie. He ate like a man stoking a boiler, emptying his plate very fast. Then he said, "What can I do for you, Miss Colleton?"

"I don't quite know," A

"I can tell you what I want for the CSA," Featherston said. "I want revenge. I want revenge on the damnyankees for licking us. I want revenge on the damnfool politicians who got us into the war. I want revenge on the damnfool generals in the War Department who botched it. I want revenge on the niggers who rose up and stabbed us in the back. And I aim to get it."

Revenge was a word that struck a chord with A

"How do you propose to do all that?" she asked.

"You said it yourself: everything in the country seems dead right now," Featherston replied. "The Freedom Party is alive and growing. People see that. They're starting to come over to us. We'll elect Congressmen this year-you just wait and see if we don't. Before too long, we'll elect a president."