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"That's right," Mort answered. "And do you know what else? They're going to be part of the garrison here. At least the United States beat us in the war. What did the Frenchies do? Nothing. Not one single thing. They don't even talk English, most of 'em. I swear to God, honey, I'd sooner have a pack of niggers watching over us than those people."
"What's even worse is, they're Canadians, too," Mary said. Her husband gave her a look. "Well, they are." Even to herself, she sounded defensive. "They used to be, anyhow."
"Maybe," Mort said. "They sure don't act like Canadians now, though. They sat there in the diner jabbering back and forth in French like a bunch of monkeys. The only one who spoke enough English to order anything for them was a sergeant who'd been in the Canadian Army once upon a time. And he sounded like the devil, too."
"That's terrible," Mary said, and Mort nodded. She asked him, "Why are there Frenchies here? Did you find out? Would they say?"
"Oh, yes. They aren't shy about talking, even if they don't do it very well," he answered. "Reason they're here is, some of the U.S. soldiers who've been on garrison duty are going back to the States."
"That doesn't explain anything," Mary said. "Why would the Yanks want to do a thing like that after all these years?" The USA had occupied Rosenfeld since she was a little girl. No matter how much she hated that, it was in a way part of the natural order of things by now.
"I don't know for sure. The Frenchies didn't say anything about that," Mort replied. "But I know what my guess would be-that the Yanks are starting to worry about that Featherston fellow down in the Confederate States."
"You think they're moving men to stop him?" Mary asked. Her husband nodded again. Excitement blazed through her. "If you're right, we've got a chance to be free!" And maybe this has been a war all along, and I don't have to think I'm a murderer. Maybe. Please, God.
Cinci
His mother took care of him as if he were a little boy. She plainly thought he was. All the years that had gone by since might as well not have happened. She didn't even realize anything was wrong. That, to Cinci
And his father took care of both of them, with as much dignity as he could muster and without much hope. Some of the neighbors helped, as they found the chance. His mother wandered off a couple of times, but she didn't get far. People watched her more closely than they had till Cinci
Getting out of the house for a little while felt good to Cinci
Meanwhile, he stumped along the neglected sidewalks of the colored district of Covington toward the parade route. The whole district seemed even more rundown than it had when he came back to Covington. It also seemed half deserted, and so it was. A lot of Negroes had already fled to the United States.
He glanced over to his father, who walked beside him, ready to steady him if he stumbled. "You sure Ma be all right while we're gone?"
"I ain't sure o' nothin," Seneca Driver answered, "but I reckon so." He walked on for a few paces, then said, "One thing I ain't sure of is how come you wants to see these bastards comin' back."
Cinci
"Maybe." His father sounded deeply skeptical.
Seneca had reason to sound that way, too. Only a handful of blacks headed for the parade route. Most of the people who came out to see this underscoring of the return of Confederate sovereignty were white men with Freedom Party pins in their lapels-or, if they didn't wear lapels, as many didn't, on the front of denim jackets or wool sweaters. Cinci
One of the blacks on the street was a familiar face: Lucullus Wood. He'd visited Cinci
Seeing Cinci
"Never thought I'd see it," Cinci
None of the plump, eager white men in earshot could have taken exception to his words or tone, either. In fact, one of them turned to another and said, "You see? Even the niggers is glad to have the damnyankees gone."
"They know they was well off before," his friend replied.
Cinci
Off to the south, Cinci
"That there song used to be against the law here," Lucullus said. By the way he said it, he thought it was too bad "Dixie" had been illegal. Cinci
"Wonder what ever happened to that Luther Bliss," Cinci
"Reckon you's right," Lucullus answered. Cinci
Here came the band. The Freedom Party men-and the smaller number of women with them-burst into applause. A lot of them began to sing. Cinci
Behind the band marched several companies of Confederate soldiers. Their uniforms didn't look much different from the ones C.S. troops had worn during the Great War, but there were changes. Most of them had to do with comfort and protection. The collars on these tunics were open at the neck. The cut was looser, less restrictive. Their helmets came down farther over the ears and the back of the neck than the Great War models had. They weren't the steel pots U.S. soldiers wore, but they weren't much different from them.