“You seem to do all right.”
“No. I wanted his seat in the Senate, and he’d have arranged that for me when he retired. I would have been a good Senator, I think. But not a good President. Harvey, a couple of weeks ago I had to go up to the Bonar place and evict his wife and two children. They cried and screamed and told me I was as much as killing them, and they were right, but I did it. Was that the right thing to do? I don’t know, and yet I do know. I know because he ordered it, and what he orders is right.”
“That’s a strange—”
“Character deficiency,” Hardy said. “I could go into my childhood in the Catholic orphanage, but you don’t want to hear my life story. Take it from me. I do best when I’ve got someone else to lean on, somebody else to be the final authority. The Old Man knows that. There’s not a chance in the world that he’d designate me as his successor.”
“So what will you do, when…”
“I’ll be chief of staff to whomever Senator Jellison designates. If he hasn’t designated anyone, then to whoever I think will be able to carry on his work. This valley is his life work, you know. He’s saved us all. Without him it would be like Outside here.”
Harvey nodded. “I expect you’re right.” And I like it here, he thought. It’s safe, and I want to be safe. “What has all this got to do with me?”
“You’re ruining things,” Hardy said. “You know how.”
Harvey Randall’s teeth clenched.
“If he dies tomorrow…” Hardy said. “If he does, the only person who could take over would be George Christopher. No, before you ask. I will not like being his chief of staff. But I’ll do it, because nobody else could hold this valley. And I’ll see that everyone knows that George is the Senator’s chosen heir. The wedding won’t trail the funeral by more than a day.”
“She wouldn’t marry George Christopher!”
“Yes, she will. If it means the difference between success and ruining everything the Senator has tried to build, she’ll do it.”
“You’re saying that whoever marries Maureen ends up in charge of the Stronghold… ?”
“No,” Hardy said. He shook his head sadly. “Not anybody. You couldn’t, for example. You aren’t local. Nobody would take orders from you. Oh, some would, if you were the Senator’s heir. But not enough. You haven’t been here long enough.” A1 paused for a moment. “It wouldn’t work for me, either.”
Harvey turned to stare at the younger man. “You’re in love with her,” he said musingly.
Hardy shrugged. “I think enough of her that I don’t want to kill her. Which is what I would be doing if I married her. Anything that disorganizes this valley, that splits it into factions, will kill everyone here. We’ll be a pushover for the first group that wants to come in — and, Harvey, there are enemies Outside. Worse ones than you think.”
“You’ve heard something that wasn’t told at the meeting?”
“You’ll find out from Deke when he comes,” Al said. He reached for the bottle and poured more bourbon into both their glasses. “Stay away from her, Harvey. I know she’s lonely, and I know how you feel about her, but stay away from her. All you can do is kill her, and ruin everything her father has built.”
“Now damn you, I—”
“It does no good to shout at me or be angry with me.” Hardy’s voice was calm and determined. “You know I’m right. She must marry whoever will be the new duke. Otherwise, Jack Turner will try to assert his rights, and I will have to kill him. Otherwise, there will be factions who will try to take power because they will believe they have as much right as anyone does. The only possible chance for a peaceful transfer of power is to appeal to loyalty to the Senator’s memory. Maureen can do that. No one else can. But she cannot control everyone. Together, Maureen and George will be able to.”
Finally Hardy’s icy calm broke, just slightly. His hand trembled. “Do you think you are making things any easier for her? She knows what she must do. Why do you think she will see you secretly, but will not marry you?” Hardy got up. “We’ve been long enough. We should join the others.”
Harvey drained his glass, but did not get up yet.
“I have tried to be friendly,” Hardy said. “The Senator thinks highly of you. He likes the work you have done, and he likes your ideas. I think if he had a free choice he might… That doesn’t matter. He does not have a free choice, and now I’ve told you.” Hardy went out before Randall could say anything.
Harvey sat staring at the empty glass. Finally he stood and threw it to the carpet. “Shill” he said. “Goddammit to hell.”
When the meeting adjourned, Maureen went outside. There was a fine mist, so fine that she hardly noticed. No one bothered with mist. Visibility was good, several miles, and she could see the snow in the High Sierra, and lower. There was snow on Cow Mountain to the south, and that wasn’t quite five thousand feet high. There would be snow in the valley soon.
She shivered slightly in the cold wind, but she wasn’t tempted to go inside and get warmer clothing. Inside she’d have to see Harvey Randall again, and look away. She didn’t want to see anyone or speak to anyone, but she smiled pleasantly as Alice Cox rode by on her big stallion. Then she felt, rather than heard, someone come up behind her. She turned, slowly. afraid of whom she’d see.
“Cold,” Reverend Varley said. “You should get a jacket.”
“I’m all right.” She turned to walk away from him, and saw the Sierra again. Harvey’s boy was up in those mountains. Travelers said the scouts were doing well there. She turned back again. “They tell me you can be trusted,” she said.
“I hope so.” When she didn’t say anything else, he added, “Listening to people’s troubles is my main business here.”
“I thought you were in the praying business.” She said it cynically, not knowing why she wanted to hurt him.
“I am, but it’s not a business.”
“No.” It wasn’t. Tom Varley pulled his own weight. He could claim a larger share than what he took from his own dairy herd; and many of the valley people gave him part of their own rations, which he distributed. He never said how. George thought he was feeding outsiders, but George wouldn’t say anything to Tom Varley. George was afraid of him. Priests and magicians are feared in primitive societies… “I wish this were really the Day of Judgment,” she blurted.
“Why?”
“Because then it would mean something. There’s no meaning to any of this. And don’t tell me about God’s will and His unfathomable reasons.”
“I won’t if you say you don’t want to hear it. But are you sure?”
“Yes. I tried that. It doesn’t work. I can’t believe in a God who did this! And there’s just no purpose, no reason for anything.” She pointed to the snow in the mountains. “Winter will be here. Soon. And we’ll live through it, some of us. And another after that. And another. Why bother?” She couldn’t stand looking at him. His collie-dog eyes were filled with concern and sympathy, and she knew that was what she had wanted from him, but now it was unbearable. She turned and walked away quickly.
He followed. “Maureen.” She went on, toward the driveway, but he kept pace with her. “Please.”
“What?” She turned to face him. “What can you say? What can I say? It’s all true.”
“Most of us want to live,” he said.
“Yes. I wish I knew why.”
“You do know. You want to live too.”
“Not like this.”
“Things aren’t so bad—”