[Concluding chapter fifteen]
Reynolds shifted, awoke, sat up in bed. Something had disturbed his sleep—not that it would have taken much to do that. He had supposed that he’d sleep like a baby in President Lamar’s soft bed; in fact, he’d tossed restlessly since turning in just a few hours ago. At first he’d blamed his sleeplessness on Susan’s refusal to join him in the mansion; she had stubbornly insisted on remaining in what she’d referred to as her house. The frustrating truth, though, was that his nerves were keeping him awake: his hold on the city wasn’t as absolute as he’d like it be.
The takeover had gone smoothly enough, with just four men killed to his knowledge, none of them people he cared for. The various government departments had been secured easily, and Captain Cooper had placed Rangers and soldiers in each of Washington’s streets to enforce the curfew Reynolds had reluctantly imposed.
But Cooper had spent tonight drinking President Lamar’s cognac and bourbon, and was presently passed out and snoring on the tobacco-stained carpet in the mansion’s main parlor. Reynolds had prayed that Cooper, an otherwise able man, wouldn’t prove too fragile a reed to be leaned upon if there was a crisis before Walker’s force arrived.
And Reynolds was worried about the number of soldiers who’d refused to join him. Most of the men and all of the officers of the engineer and artillery units based at Fort Walker had chosen imprisonment rather than come around, and he had no idea what to do with them. Perhaps Colonel Walker could persuade them to change their minds; this sort of thing was Walker’s area of expertise anyway. One of Cooper’s men was even now racing northward through Brazos County, to find Walker and inform him that Washington had been taken. In the meantime, though, Reynolds’s hold on the city depended on his moral authority and the muskets of perhaps half a hundred uneducated, mostly immigrant privates. They’d seemed more than sufficient yesterday as they marched through the streets with Reynolds and Cooper at their head. In the lonely night, though, Reynolds was only too aware of how many of their fellows were still out on the frontier, and could be in the capital within a week. Tomorrow, he told himself, I will have to have the telegraph restored and notify the world of what we’ve done here today. And I’ll have to send for the colonels of the regiments and request their pledges. And tell them about Beauregard.
He got out of bed, rubbing his eyes. I’m not going to be able to get back to sleep without a drink, he thought. Downstairs, Cooper’s raucous snoring continued unabated; Reynolds imagined the greasy, bearded, heavy-set form sprawled on the floor in front of the liquor cabinet, guns beside his head, and shivered at the thought. Perhaps there’s a bottle in Lamar’s office, he told himself.
On an impulse, he went to the front door and opened it, startling the soldier standing guard on the front porch. “Jesus Christ Almighty,” the soldier gasped, “don’t do that, you great son of a—sir.”
Reynolds opened his mouth to reprimand the lout, then decided there was nothing to be gained by it. “Something woke me,” he said. “A noise, I think.”
“Gunshot,” the soldier agreed. “From down by the river, I guess. Must’ve found somebody tryin’ to sneak out of the city.”
Anyone who wanted could get out of this city unnoticed, Reynolds thought. Like Travis did, and that in broad daylight. I hope this isn’t going to degenerate into a settling of scores, the way that thing in the north-eastern counties did a few years ago. “That’s as may be,” he said to the guard. “I’d still like a report, now that I’m up. Fetch me the officer of the watch, private.”
“Corporal Smith’s asleep, sir.”
“Well, then, wake him. There’s supposed to be a curfew in effect, soldier, and I want to know why it’s been broken.” And why my sleep was disturbed.
“Yes, sir.” The guard slouched off the porch and up the drive to the carriage house where Reynolds’s bodyguard had set up its headquarters. Watching him go, Reynolds shook his head. This army wants discipline, he told himself. That’s something I’ll have to see to once things have settled down. Perhaps our Confederate allies can help us there.
For a moment, Reynolds entertained himself with visions of diplomatic receptions in the great capitals of the world, with himself as the center of attention. Texas was a country larger than France, England and most of the Germanies put together; sooner or later all of the world’s nations would come to recognize the great potential of this republic.
In the meantime, he needed a drink if he was to have even a hope of getting back to sleep. Reynolds closed the door behind him and went in search of a candle or portable lamp; given the sullen attitude the household slaves had displayed throughout the day, he considered it highly unlikely that any of them would be prepared to rouse himself to show the way to a bottle not obstructed by Cooper’s crusty bulk. It’s not, he grumbled silently, as though they’ve had all that long to become attached to Lamar. He’d only been president a little over two years, and Reynolds doubted that Lamar’s famous bonhomie extended to Negroes.
A series of gunshots, crisply popping like pine knots in a fire, echoed through the night. Oh dear God, Reynolds thought, stopping short. Please don’t let it all be coming undone. Praying that by doing so he could keep everything safely as it had been, Reynolds continued to hold himself frozen in place. Then another gunshot cracked, and he was flying up to the bedroom and his clothes and boots.
Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter TwelveReynolds shifted, awoke, sat up in bed. Something had disturbed his sleep—not that it would have taken much to do that. He had supposed that he’d sleep like a baby in President Lamar’s soft bed; in fact, he’d tossed restlessly since turning in just a few hours ago. At first he’d blamed his sleeplessness on Susan’s refusal to join him in the mansion; she had stubbornly insisted on remaining in what she’d referred to as her house. The frustrating truth, though, was that his nerves were keeping him awake: his hold on the city wasn’t as absolute as he’d like it be.
The takeover had gone smoothly enough, with just four men killed to his knowledge, none of them people he cared for. The various government departments had been secured easily, and Captain Cooper had placed Rangers and soldiers in each of Washington’s streets to enforce the curfew Reynolds had reluctantly imposed.
But Cooper had spent tonight drinking President Lamar’s cognac and bourbon, and was presently passed out and snoring on the tobacco-stained carpet in the mansion’s main parlor. Reynolds had prayed that Cooper, an otherwise able man, wouldn’t prove too fragile a reed to be leaned upon if there was a crisis before Walker’s force arrived.
And Reynolds was worried about the number of soldiers who’d refused to join him. Most of the men and all of the officers of the engineer and artillery units based at Fort Walker had chosen imprisonment rather than come around, and he had no idea what to do with them. Perhaps Colonel Walker could persuade them to change their minds; this sort of thing was Walker’s area of expertise anyway. One of Cooper’s men was even now racing northward through Brazos County, to find Walker and inform him that Washington had been taken. In the meantime, though, Reynolds’s hold on the city depended on his moral authority and the muskets of perhaps half a hundred uneducated, mostly immigrant privates. They’d seemed more than sufficient yesterday as they marched through the streets with Reynolds and Cooper at their head. In the lonely night, though, Reynolds was only too aware of how many of their fellows were still out on the frontier, and could be in the capital within a week. Tomorrow, he told himself, I will have to have the telegraph restored and notify the world of what we’ve done here today. And I’ll have to send for the colonels of the regiments and request their pledges. And tell them about Beauregard.
He got out of bed, rubbing his eyes. I’m not going to be able to get back to sleep without a drink, he thought. Downstairs, Cooper’s raucous snoring continued unabated; Reynolds imagined the greasy, bearded, heavy-set form sprawled on the floor in front of the liquor cabinet, guns beside his head, and shivered at the thought. Perhaps there’s a bottle in Lamar’s office, he told himself.
On an impulse, he went to the front door and opened it, startling the soldier standing guard on the front porch. “Jesus Christ Almighty,” the soldier gasped, “don’t do that, you great son of a—sir.”
Reynolds opened his mouth to reprimand the lout, then decided there was nothing to be gained by it. “Something woke me,” he said. “A noise, I think.”
“Gunshot,” the soldier agreed. “From down by the river, I guess. Must’ve found somebody tryin’ to sneak out of the city.”
Anyone who wanted could get out of this city unnoticed, Reynolds thought. Like Travis did, and that in broad daylight. I hope this isn’t going to degenerate into a settling of scores, the way that thing in the north-eastern counties did a few years ago. “That’s as may be,” he said to the guard. “I’d still like a report, now that I’m up. Fetch me the officer of the watch, private.”
“Corporal Smith’s asleep, sir.”
“Well, then, wake him. There’s supposed to be a curfew in effect, soldier, and I want to know why it’s been broken.” And why my sleep was disturbed.
“Yes, sir.” The guard slouched off the porch and up the drive to the carriage house where Reynolds’s bodyguard had set up its headquarters. Watching him go, Reynolds shook his head. This army wants discipline, he told himself. That’s something I’ll have to see to once things have settled down. Perhaps our Confederate allies can help us there.
For a moment, Reynolds entertained himself with visions of diplomatic receptions in the great capitals of the world, with himself as the center of attention. Texas was a country larger than France, England and most of the Germanies put together; sooner or later all of the world’s nations would come to recognize the great potential of this republic.
In the meantime, he needed a drink if he was to have even a hope of getting back to sleep. Reynolds closed the door behind him and went in search of a candle or portable lamp; given the sullen attitude the household slaves had displayed throughout the day, he considered it highly unlikely that any of them would be prepared to rouse himself to show the way to a bottle not obstructed by Cooper’s crusty bulk. It’s not, he grumbled silently, as though they’ve had all that long to become attached to Lamar. He’d only been president a little over two years, and Reynolds doubted that Lamar’s famous bonhomie extended to Negroes.
A series of gunshots, crisply popping like pine knots in a fire, echoed through the night. Oh dear God, Reynolds thought, stopping short. Please don’t let it all be coming undone. Praying that by doing so he could keep everything safely as it had been, Reynolds continued to hold himself frozen in place. Then another gunshot cracked, and he was flying up to the bedroom and his clothes and boots.
Chapter Thirteen Chapter Fourteen Chapter Fifteen
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