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Had he read Candide? She doubted it; she couldn't imagine a book that seemed less her brother's cup of tea. She said, "The whole Confederacy is my garden."
"You're welcome to it," Tom replied. "It's too big for me to get my arms around. South Carolina's too big. I think even St. Matthews is too big, but I can try that. My wife and my little baby boy, now- that I understand just fine."
He'd gone into the war a captain, and a boy himself. He'd come out a lieutenant-colonel, and a man. Now he was a family man, but that seemed a pulling-in, not a growing-out. It made A
"I hope so." Tom got up and kissed her on the cheek. "What I'm going to do is, I'm going home to my family. Take care of yourself, Sis. I worry about you." He went out the door, taking her chance for the last word with him.
I'm going home to my family. Ever since they'd lost their parents when they were small, she'd been his family, she and their brother Jacob, who was dead. He didn't think that way any more. He didn't care about the country any more, either. A
She slept in her own bed that night. She couldn't remember the last time she'd slept there. It had been weeks, she knew. Her own mattress felt as unfamiliar as any of the hotel beds where she'd lain down lately.
When morning came, she was on her way again, driving down to Charleston. Featherston was coming into town in a couple of days for a rally that should finish sewing up South Carolina for the Freedom Party. She hurled herself into the work of making sure everything went off the way it was supposed to. Things were more complicated than they had been when she first started pla
"Hello, there," Featherston said, coming up behind her as she peered out from the wings to make sure the lighting arrangements were the way she wanted them.
She jumped. She wasn't the sort of person who jumped when someone came up behind her, but Jake Featherston wasn't the ordinary sort of person coming up behind her. "Oh. Hello." She hated herself for how callow she sounded. No one had any business making her feel so unsure, so… weak was the only word that seemed to fit. No one had any business doing it, but Jake did.
He eyed the hall with the knowing gaze of a man who'd given speeches in a lot of different places. "Good to have you back in the Party," he said, his attention returning to her. "I wasn't even close to sure it would be, in spite of the pretty speeches you made me. But it is. You've given me a lot of help here, and I do appreciate it."
"Happy to do anything I can," A
He said, "There's a lot of people I owe, and I'm going to pay every single one of them back. But you, you owe me-you owe me plenty for walking out on me when I really needed a hand."
He hadn't forgotten. He never forgot a slight, no matter how small. A
The answer seemed to catch him by surprise. Slowly, thoughtfully, he nodded. "Well, you're doing better than a lot of folks I can think of," he said.
"Good." A
But Featherston sounded warm and lively when he went into his speech. "I never had a fancy name," he declared. "I was only one more Confederate soldier, with a stamped tin identity disk around my neck. But every great idea draws men to it. Every idea steps out before the nation. It has to win from the nation the fighters it needs, so one day it's strong enough to turn the course of destiny. Our day is here!"
The hall erupted. A
He thundered on: "Lots of people in the Confederate States think the Freedom Party can't do the job if we get in. They're fooling themselves! Today our movement can't be destroyed. It's here. People have to reckon with it, whether they like it or not. We recognize three principles-responsibility, command, and obedience. We've built a party-a party of millions, mind-based on one thing: achievement. And if you don't like it, we say, 'We'll fight today! We'll fight tomorrow! And if you don't fancy our rally today, we'll hold another one next week, even bigger!' "
He slammed his fist down on the podium. More applause interrupted him. A
"I'm not just here to ask you for your vote, or to ask you to do this or that for the Party," Featherston said. "I'm here to tell you the truth, and what I aim to do. What I've got to give is the only thing that can pull our country back on its feet again. If all you Confederates had the same faith in your country that our Freedom Party stalwarts do, we wouldn't be in the mess we're in. We will pull ourselves together. We're on the way, and I know you'll help."
I'm already helping, A
AmericanEmpire: TheCenterCa
XIX
I n an odd way, Colonel Abner Dowling was glad to have something to worry about that didn't involve keeping the Mormons in Salt Lake City from erupting. The desultory war with Japan hadn't done the job. He'd wanted to go fight, and the War Department hadn't let him. That brought nothing but frustration.
Looking with alarm at events south of the border, though, did a fine job of distracting him. He rounded on his adjutant one morning, growling, "What the devil are we going to do if that Featherston maniac really does get elected in the CSA come November?"
"I don't know, sir," Captain Toricelli answered. "What can we do if he wins the election? We can't very well tell the Confederates to go back and vote again."
"No, but I wish we could," Dowling said. "That man is nothing but trouble waiting to happen. He wants another go at us. He hardly even bothers hiding it any more."
"I don't see how we can stop a politician from making speeches, sir," Angelo Toricelli said. "If he gets to be president and then starts building up the C.S. Army and violating the terms of the armistice the Confederates signed, we can do something about him. Till then…" He shrugged.