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[Concluding chapter one]
The new capitol building was now taking shape on the highest of the low hills rising up from the Brazos valley. That meant that a single white line of stone blocks had finally appeared on the leveled summit. The Texicans had won their freedom from Mexico quickly enough, Walker thought as he took in the construction work; they were proving somewhat less adept at building a proper republic. The building he now rode past exemplified that. A low, rambling wood-frame construct that suggested an overgrown bunkhouse, it was in fact the current home of the Texan Congress.
Most of the buildings in Washington were still wooden. At that, the locals were almost overweeningly proud of the fact that the newer buildings were clad in planed board rather than rough logs. On one or two streets, two- or even three-storey brick buildings had appeared, but they were exceptions and every one had been put up by a recent immigrant. The native Texicans—the original settlers and their second-generation descendants—were as casual about building their cities as they were about building their government institutions. Walker had some thoughts concerning that, about which he would make the Texicans aware when he and the Lord decided the time was right. He smiled at the Congress building, wondering if the honorable representatives would be engaging in fist-fighting or knife duels today.
The Courier office was another wooden building, but the newspaper’s publisher was one of those new immigrants, which meant that a three-story building had been framed out next to the office, and bricks were beginning to fill in the wooden outline.
James Russell was waiting for him on the wooden sidewalk out front. The publisher-editor was wearing his usual press-day outfit, a heavily stained, once-white smock over his dark trousers and waistcoat. His sleeves were rolled up in spite of the cool weather. But then, Russell was from Edinburgh, where today would have been considered balmy if not tropical. Only by Texas standards was it less than warm.
“I see you’re already set to go.”
“I was never one for drawn-out farewells,” Walker said.
“A pity, that. You could have made a fine writer, had you let me employ you a while longer.” Russell stepped forward, took the offered reins and looped them around a post while Walker dismounted. “Have you decided what to do when you get—to wherever you’re going? Will you go back to medicine?”
“I think I’ve seen enough illness for the rest of my life,” Walker said. He’d obtained his medical degree while still in his teens, and had even studied under a court physician to the Holy Roman Emperor in Vienna during his travels. But medicine presented the wrong sort of challenge, and he found the odds stacked too heavily against him. “If I have to have a career, I think it’ll be journalism,” he added. “Though until I see how my aunt is going to deal with this latest illness, I don’t want to think too much about myself.”
“Ah, yes, your poor aunt. She’s in Havana, if I recall correctly.”
Walker allowed a slow smile to curl under his mustache. So Russell had heard about his service with Lopez. Well, there was no secret about that. “No, Nashville. I have a cousin in Havana.”
They laughed together, and Russell said, “I hope that the unpleasantness between the states won’t cause you any difficulty—not that I think you’re the sort to let a war inconvenience you.”
He was planning to travel overland to avoid the Federal blockade, but Walker felt it would be wiser to avoid revealing any details of his upcoming trip to anyone. Even falsified details could tell a clever opponent something about his true plans. “I don’t anticipate trouble, no,” he said carefully.
“Well, you just watch out for yourself, lad.” Russell smiled, but the smile was a bit forced. “Tennessee has its share of partisans for both sides, men who’d take pleasure in stringing you up if they felt you weren’t enthusiastic enough a supporter.”
“I’ll be careful, Russell.” That was the truth, too. Walker hoped that Russell would still be here—and still be friendly—when Walker returned to Texas. “I’m not going to inconvenience you if I don’t stay to help with the press run, am I?” he asked. “I would like to get under way today if I can.”
“How could I miss you when you never did more than get in the way?” Russell snorted. “I said you’d make a good writer, Walker. I never suggested you’d be a printer. Go on; we’ll manage the way we always have.”
“I’ll just say good-bye to the others then, before you get too deeply into the type.” Walker walked through the door of the office and into the rich smells of paper, dust and fresh ink.
It took just a minute to say goodbye to the rest of the staff. There were only three of them, and none had been in Washington more than two months. “Have you heard the latest from the Capitol?” Russell asked when Walker emerged back into the sunlight. “Our President Lamar has just presented a proposal to send a militia regiment to California to ‘assist’ the Mexicans in maintaining order. With a view, of course, to eventual annexation.”
“It’s a noble idea,” Walker said. Certainly it’s what I would do, he added silently. “California needs civilizing, especially if the gold holds out. And heaven knows the Mexicans aren’t capable of civilizing the place; they can’t even settle it properly. But intentions have to be capable of being followed up. Has the Texas militia improved since yesterday?”
Russell laughed. “Not that I’m aware of. But what difference would it make? We should be setting our own house in order before we start imposing our civilizing influence on the Californias.”
“There is certainly a lot of work to be done here before Texas can be considered a proper nation.” Walker loosened Destiny’s reins. “But sometimes a noble goal, however unattainable it may seem at first, is what the Lord requires of a nation struggling to find its greatness.”
With careful solemnity, Walker shook Russell’s hand. The Scot had been a kind and helpful employer, and Walker prided himself on remembering favors and kindnesses. “I thank you for all of the goodness you’ve shown me, Russell. Be sure I won’t forget it.”
“I only regret that I’m losing a man of such great potential,” Russell said as Walker climbed onto Destiny’s back. “But Texas is also a country with great potential, Walker. I hope that when your crisis in Tennessee resolves itself, in whatever fashion God chooses it to, that you’ll consider returning to this place.”
“Be in no doubt of that, Mr. Russell,” Walker said. “And when next you see President Lamar, tell him I wish him good luck with California.”
In the time he has left, Walker added silently. Then he rode south and out of Washington.
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