The Black Jacks

"Good morning, Count," said Singletary, turning his attention to Saligny. "Beautiful morning, isn't it? Enjoying the first absinthe of the day, I see."

Saligny was a florid, bewhiskered man who wore a somewhat old-fashioned clawhammer coat and doeskin trousers. A snowy handkerchief was tucked just so into his left sleeve, and his apricot-colored cravat was exquisitely arranged. A fastidious and courtly chevalier, Saligny fairly reeked of lilac water.

"M'sieu Saligny!Bonjour, mon ami!" Whether he really was or not, Saligny always appeared to be delighted to meet a person. He held aloft the tumbler of green liquid which he had been sipping. "Would you care to partake of this nectar?"

"Thank you, no. I never developed a liking for the flavor of licorice." Singletary nodded to the stranger. "Good morning, sir. I don't believe I've had the pleasure of your acquaintance. I am Jonah Singletary, editor of the Austin City Gazette."

"Charles Stewart. Major, Royal Scots Fusiliers."

"Well, well! An Englishman, a Frenchman, and a Southern belle—one would hardly know that we are on the very brink of an uncharted wilderness, now, would one?"

Singletary glanced at each of them in turn. Leah McAllen was looking at him as though he were an unmentionable something a man might track into the house on his boot heel. Stewart was peering at him with a cool curiosity, while Saligny acted like a man who had something to hide. Obviously not one of them was going to invite him to sit down, as he had hoped. Singletary again touched the brim of his hat to the lady and nodded to the gentlemen.

"Good day to you all, then."

He moved on to the porch steps and took a chair at the other end. As he sat down, a tall, scrawny, muscular pig scooted out the front door of the hotel, preceding the establishment's owner. The pig started toward Mrs. McAllen and her two companions, but Saligny cried out "Mon Dieu!" in complete disgust, and the pig snorted and bolted down the steps to disappear beneath the porch, squeezing between two pieces of whitewashed lattice. Wearing a look of utter revulsion, Saligny raised his feet as though he were afraid the pig might stick its bristly snout up through the weathered planks of the floor. Singletary was amused. Bullock was not. He eyed Saligny the way the Frenchman had eyed the pig. A brawny man with a mop of rust-colored hair, he looked like a lumberjack rather than an i

"M'sieu Bullock," said Saligny, exasperated, "must you let your filthy beasts run loose?"

"That's a Berkshire pig, Count," drawled Bullock. "You have any idea how much he's worth?"

"I would not give a single franc for him unless he was being served on a platter with an apple in his mouth."

Bullock grunted, shifting a wad of Kentucky burley from one cheek to the other. He noticed Singletary then.

"Hello, Jonah," he said without enthusiasm. "Want something to wet your whistle? Some hemlock, perhaps? Or a dash of snake venom?"

Singletary just smiled. Bullock was a diehard Houston man, so he had little nice to say about the City Gazette or its distinguished editor.

"Just a cup of spring water, with some ice, if such is available."

Bullock spat a stream of brown tobacco juice in a ten-foot arc over the porch railing and onto the street. He went back inside and a moment later returned with Singletary's water.

"Tell me, Jonah, what are you going to do when the Old Chief becomes president again?"

"I fully intend to enjoy my allotment of three score and ten, but I doubt I shall live long enough to see that day."

Bullock's grin was mirthless."You can print all the lies you want about Sam Houston—and I'm sure you'll do just that. Won't make a pe

Singletary spent an hour on the veranda, paying no apparent attention to the three people at the other end, but straining his ears to eavesdrop on the conversation still taking place between Saligny and Major Stewart. But it was to no avail. A couple of people paused to visit with him, and he was glad of that, since it justified his continued presence. Yet he paid little attention to what was said to him, so intrigued was he by the situation at the other end of the porch.

At length Leah McAllen and the Englishman took their leave of the count and entered the hotel. So they were together. Singletary had surmised as much. What a bold and wicked woman Mrs. McAllen was, to go about her infidelities with such brazen indifference to public opinion! Yet the City Gazette editor was more interested in other matters; a moment later, as Saligny prepared to quit the porch himself, Singletary called him over.

"Tell me, Count, what is that Englishman up to?"

Saligny chuckled and wagged a finger. "Ne faites pas ça, mon ami. Don't do that, my friend. You know I ca

Singletary shrugged. "Can't blame me for asking. That's my job. But come and sit down and let me buy you another absinthe. We shall discuss other matters."

"Though I should, I ca

Singletary called for Bullock; in short order the Frenchman had his absinthe. The two men engaged in small talk for a while. Then Singletary, judging the time was right, steered the conversation into politics.

"You get along famously with President Lamar, it seems," remarked the newspaperman.

"He is a man of culture and vision. Such a man is all too rare on the frontier. I can only hope he will prevail against that barbarian Sam Houston."

"Houston is determined to a

"It is no secret. France would prefer an independent Texas republic. But what can Houston really do? The Congress of the United States stands in the way of a

"That's true, for now. So perhaps the British are his only recourse. A Texas strongly influenced by Great Britain may result."

"Influenced? Qu'est-çe que vous voulez dire?"

"I mean tied to Britain diplomatically and financially. Texas is like a foal, my dear count. She can barely stand on her time. For the time being she needs support. If she can't get that support from her mother, the United States, perhaps another mare will take an interest in her. How would that play in Versailles, I wonder?"

Saligny pretended to be shocked. "But, m'sieu, our excellent king, Louis Philippe, has gone to great lengths to improve relations between France and Britain. I remind you of his support for Belgian independence, which was a subject very dear to British hearts. No, no, my friend. France knows her vital interests lay in Europe, not the New World."

"For four hundred years power and prestige in Europe has depended upon colonial possessions, Count."

Saligny was delighted. "You are an astute fellow, aren't you, Singletary? That is why I like to talk with you. In this country there are so few men like you—learned, intelligent, cultured."