25 MAY 1851
WASHINGTON-ON-THE-BRAZOS, REPUBLIC OF TEXAS
“Yessir,” Jefferson said. “There’s already someone here. I put him in the parlor, like you told me.”
“Damn!” Reynolds dropped into a porch chair and presented his right foot to the boy. “I wanted a minute to get my thoughts together.” Normally, Texans wouldn’t be on time to their own funerals. Why was everybody in such a hurry to get this conspiracy under way? “Who is it?” he asked.
“Mister Travis, sir.”
Reynolds froze. “Secretary Travis?”
“Yessir. Said he had a question or two to ask you and didn’t feel like waiting until tomorrow.”
“Sweet Jesus. You didn’t say anything to him, did you?”
“No, sir. Didn’t think it was my place.”
“Good for you, son.” Reynolds tried to steady his mind. Think, he told himself. Is it possible Travis has learned something? Possible, but not likely. If he knew, he’d have Rangers or soldiers with him.
Could he be interested in joining? Also a possibility. Travis wants to be president, Reynolds thought. He sure enough despises Lamar. Of course, most of us despise Lamar, so that’s no qualification. But he also has a hearty dislike of the British, and that’s really what this is all about. I’ve often wondered why he hasn’t tried to do something like this himself.
“Damn,” he said softly. There was just no way to know what Travis was up to. Given that, his only prudent course of action was to let Travis do most of the talking, and get rid of him as quickly as possible. I’ll have to send someone down to the gate, he thought, to bring the others in by a roundabout route. Can’t have Travis wondering why I’ve got visitors on a Sunday evening.
Reynolds put on the slippers that Jefferson brought him, then sent the boy to get one of the field hands to stand watch by the gate. When all was prepared, he took a deep breath, tried to steady his posture and facial expression, and walked into the house and made his way to the parlor.
Susan was there, thank God, engaging Travis in small-talk. The secretary was always susceptible to female charms, and that might come to Reynolds’s aid this afternoon.
“Good afternoon, wife,” he said to her with a broad smile, the sort he’d become good at summoning up under the most adverse of circumstances. He kissed Susan on the cheek she offered, then turned to Travis. “And Mister Secretary. What an unexpected pleasure this is.”
“Spare me the pomposity, Reynolds,” Travis said. “I know full well I’m intruding on you. I apologize for that. But listen, I’ve heard and seen some strange things this last couple of days, and I wanted to know what you thought before I went to the president.”
“What things would those be?” Reynolds asked, having developed a pretty good idea of Travis’s response. “Cigar?” He walked over to the Philadelphia humidor that was one of his favorite possessions.
“Thank you.” Travis took a cigar, rolled it between thumb and forefinger. To Reynolds, the crackling of the tobacco seemed ominously loud. “Rangers, for one thing,” Travis said in response to Reynolds’s inquisitive look. “They’re supposed to be on the frontier, enforcing the law and keeping an eye on the Indians. So why have I seen at least a half-dozen of the brutes in town in the last few days?”
“Presumably Rangers are given leave, sir,” Reynolds said. “It’s not our place to tell ‘em where they spend it. And I know for a fact that at least one Ranger captain is here on business. Maybe he’s brought a couple of his men with him.”
“Could be,” Travis said. “God knows I’m not privy to the workings of the Interior Department—or the War Department, come to that, so I won’t even ask you why my deputy has been receiving complaints from his cousins up by Fort Crockett about entire troops of militia deserting their posts. But affairs of state are my concern. So perhaps you might be able to tell me why your secretary, Mister Pennifield, has been taking meetings in secret with the French and Austrian ministers.”
Damn! Reynolds thought. I told that idiot to be more discreet. Reynolds forced an appropriately concerned expression onto his face. “I confess I’m deeply upset about this, Mister Secretary,” he said. “Soldiers deserting their posts? Surely you’ve brought this to the attention of President Lamar.”
“I haven’t said anything to him yet,” Travis said. “And if he’s aware of the situation, he hasn’t said anything to me. Lamar just doesn’t seem to realize that this country’s growing too quickly for him to be able to be president as well as his own secretary of war. It’s clear to me that he doesn’t have the slightest idea of what’s going on along the northern frontier.”
I’m counting on that, Reynolds thought.
“But about your secretary,” Travis said. He leaned back against the wall and, watching Reynolds, lit his cigar.
“Nothing to say, really,” Reynolds replied, trying to remember the details of the story he’d concocted for this eventuality. “Pennifield’s just been sounding out the ministers for me on the slavery issue. I’m going to be introducing a bill next session, see. I want all further international business to be done on the condition that there be no linkage between any loan or other assistance and our policy on slavery. I don’t see why we should do business exclusively with the British when the French and Austrians have a much more amenable attitude toward our institutions.”
“An interesting proposal,” Travis said drily. “I’ll mention it to Pakenham when I see him tomorrow. It might make him a little more kindly disposed toward us.”
We’re sunk, Reynolds thought. Pakenham will tell Travis that there have been no such discussions—those foreign bastards are as thick as thieves—and then Travis will know that I’ve lied to him about Pennifield. We’ll have to move right away; we’ve no more time to wait for word from Walker.
“I’m sorry if I didn’t bring this to your attention, sir,” Reynolds said. “But as we haven’t always seen eye to eye, I was unsure how supportive you might be.”
“I understand, Congressman.” Travis smiled, and brushed a hand through his curly brown hair. “We have to be careful about the way we choose our allies.”
Go on and preen, you pompous prick, Reynolds thought, thrilling at the obscenity. I happen to know that you curl that hair, you vulgar old rake.
Susan reappeared at that moment, sparing Reynolds the need to make a polite response. “I’m going to be serving supper soon, Secretary Travis,” she said, and Reynolds blessed her for forcing the situation. “It’s just going to be a light meal—we’ve already had dinner—but we’d be pleased if you would care to join us.”
“I’m grateful for the offer, ma’am,” Travis said. From the way he looked at Susan, Reynolds could see just how grateful. “But I’ve another engagement, and must with regret decline.”
“Can I at least offer you some lemonade?”
“I appreciate it, but no.” Travis made a gesture toward the door. “I’ve already taken up too much of your time as it is. I should be getting back to town.”
“Back to the Widow Oakes, he means,” Susan said after Travis had gone, her voice nasal and buzzing with outrage. “Or that Spanish slut Pena. Honestly, Thomas; I don’t know why you put up with that man’s behavior. There isn’t a widow under sixty in Washington he hasn’t ... dallied with. And”—her voice dropped to a whisper—”I’m told there are a number of married women, as well.”
“Some men are weak, dearest,” Reynolds said. “But a man’s weakness is not the total sum of him, understand. William Travis is a firm believer in the greatness of Texas, and I believe he would lay down his life for his country.” I sure hope that won’t be necessary in the immediate future, he thought. Travis had too many friends, and too great a reputation as a freedom-fighter, to make killing him an easy option.
“I don’t suppose you were serious about serving supper, my dear?” he asked. “I could do with a bite or two before we get down to work.”
“I’ll have cook make up some sandwiches,” Susan said. Her tone made it clear to Reynolds that his defense of Travis had not met with her approval. “I would imagine that I’m to be left alone for the entire evening again. I wish you would remember, Thomas, that the Lord’s day is supposed to be a day of rest.”
“Now, Susan,” Reynolds said. He tried to keep his voice deep and level, but somehow a pleading tone worked its way in nevertheless. “You know I’m doing this for you, my dear. Don’t you want to occupy a higher, a better position than we do?”
“And see less of you than I do now? I’m sure that will make me perfectly happy.” Susan clucked disapprovingly at the ash Travis had scattered on the carpet. “You men will not smoke in my parlor tonight,” she said. “I am not going to have to occupy the household slaves in cleaning carpets and washing stains out of the upholstery again. If you insist on polluting yourselves with those noxious devices”—she thrust a finger angrily in the direction of the humidor—”you can do so outside. And if it’s raining, so much the better.”
“As you wish, my dear.” Reynolds sighed. He wasn’t sure what had set her off this afternoon, but he knew enough to conclude that it would be better if she were left to herself until her temper had eased somewhat. “I will take steps to see that the men behave themselves. And you needn’t worry about feeding them. They will have eaten before coming, I’m sure. It was only my hunger I was thinking of when I asked about dinner. I’ll get something myself.” Susan glared at him a moment, then turned abruptly and left the room. Now what have I done? Reynolds wondered. It occurred to him to wonder whether Travis’s staying single wasn’t perhaps a smarter move than gossip had given him credit for.
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