“No one could persuade them,” she insisted. “Least of all Harrison. You do know that, Bradford, Harrison is just a puppy, that’s all he’s ever been. The only reason those men took him in with them was because of his relationship with you. He’s not a leader.”
“He comes from a family of leaders,” Bradford said. “His father was a leader. Both his grandfathers were leaders.”
“But we’re talking about Harrison.”
Doubt flickered briefly in his eyes, he seemed for just a second confused, but then he shook his head and said, “I know we’re talking about Harrison. And you know I want what’s best for Harrison. For all of us.”
“I know that,” she said, and behind the words she was trying to think of what she could say to him. He meant this pipeline suggestion, he was really serious about it. But how could he be? It didn’t make sense, that’s all. He’d got caught up in a wrong way of seeing things, and he hadn’t yet been able to break out of it. That happened to everybody at one time or another, it had happened to Bradford before, but she couldn’t remember it ever being this severe or for this long a period. One of his most useful characteristics was an exceptionally alert self-editor; he tended to find his own errors early, and correct them.
This time, he was going to need a little push from outside, she could see that. (As the pickets had pushed, toward the end of his Presidency? His error then had been global, the response vitriolic. He had changed courses at once, on seeing where he’d gone wrong, and had been accused of vacillation and opportunism by his opponents. Would an intransigent man, determined to pursue his erroneous course even if it led to general war, have been preferable? Evelyn had always doubted it.)
Her method of pushing Bradford into seeing his error would have to be gentler than the public reaction of a decade ago to that larger error. Cautiously she said, “But we have to stay within the realm of the possible, don’t we? Don’t we have to stay within the limits of what Harrison can do?”
“That’s his mistake,” Bradford said, holding up a warning finger. The book on Adams, closed and with a red leather bookmark sticking out like a tongue at one end, lay in his lap. “He thinks only of his limitations,” Bradford said, “and not of his potential. Harrison is sixty-four years old, Evelyn, he’s not a young man. A young man can be forgiven if he never raises his sights above money-making and selfish interests, but a man of sixty-four should have higher goals. What will Harrison leave behind him when he goes? Children and grandchildren? That isn’t enough, not for men like us, and not even if they were much better than the ones he has.”
Evelyn found herself smiling, thinking of the Simcoes and the Chathams, but when she saw that Bradford wasn’t returning the smile she sobered instantly.
Bradford said, “A man wants to feel that he has accomplished something in life, that the world is in some way a better place for his having lived in it. That he has affected it somehow. What is Harrison’s place in history? Merely that by the accident of biology he was the brother of an American President? Reflected glory won’t suffice, I don’t understand why he can’t see that.”
“He never wanted glory,” Evelyn said softly. “That isn’t Harrison’s way. All he’s ever wanted is to be treated like a grown-up. In fact, not even that, not even all the way to the grown-ups. He just wants to be allowed to play with the big boys.”
“That’s why I say,” Bradford insisted, his voice still low and gentle, “that he must raise his sights, while he still has some time left. And he’ll never get a greater opportunity than this. He has created a city in the wilderness, which in itself is an almost mythic accomplishment. He has named it after the father of our country, drawing a quite proper parallel. But his motives haven’t been the equivalent of his actions. George Washington, California, is a grand gesture, a noble act, but engaged in for ignoble reasons. Now Harrison has a chance to bring his motives up to his actions, to really create something splendid out there. With water, that town can live. And he can bring it water, he can finish the job he started. I’ve studied the maps, I’ve seen where the water is.” He picked up his book with one hand, put the other on the chair arm preparatory to rising. “Shall I show you the maps?”
“I wouldn’t understand them,” she said. “I believe you about the water.”
“It’s the nearest water not already claimed by some other community,” he said. “It’s unfortunate it’s so far away, of course, but in the long run that only makes the task more noble, more noteworthy.”
“And more expensive,” she said.
“Harrison is not a poor man,” Bradford said. “Nor is Herbert. Nor are any of their partners. The world has been good to them all, it won’t hurt them to repay some of that goodness.”
“Bradford,” Evelyn said, her voice rising a little because she was beginning to feel desperate about reaching him, “you’re not thinking about Harrison, about who he really is. You could do it, you could do that pipeline if you were in Harrison’s position and you really set your mind to it, but he can’t. He really can’t, Bradford, and it’s only cruel to expect him to try.”
“Cruel? Evelyn, I’m not asking anything of Harrison. I’m not asking him to do anything for me. He came to me for advice, and my advice to him is to raise his standards, to worry more about humanity and less about himself. Is that advice really cruel?”
“Yes, it is,” she said. “If Harrison was in a burning building, stuck on a high floor, and he asked you to help him and you advised him to learn how to fly I’d say that was cruel, too. And this is exactly the same thing.”
“But it isn’t. I didn’t merely advise him to fly, I set down instructions for how to learn. I didn’t merely tell Harrison to think about humanity, and to try for a nobler goal than money. I showed him how to do it.”
“The pipeline.”
“Water for the city he created. I’m really surprised at you, Evelyn, I’ve always thought of you as someone with vision. Can’t you see what a perfect answer this is to all of Harrison’s problems? All of them, not merely this little indictment that won’t come to anything anyway. But think of what that city could do for Harrison’s self-esteem. If he brought water to that city, if he made it live, he would never let Patricia dominate him again. And he would stand in the history books on his own two feet, not sit on my coat-tails. And he would have a sufficient sense of his own personal worth not to have to travel with his entire family any more.” He grinned, a surprising transition, and said, “Which is where we get our advantage.”
This time, Evelyn didn’t return the smile. She said, “Bradford, if Harrison could do this thing with the pipeline he would already be someone who couldn’t be dominated by Patricia, and wouldn’t have to travel with his whole family, and didn’t need to ride through life on your coat-tails. But he isn’t that kind of person, he just isn’t. So what you’re suggesting isn’t practical. That isn’t like you, Bradford, it really isn’t like you.”
“If Harrison tries and fails,” Bradford said, “I will agree with you, it isn’t practical. But he won’t fail. If he acts with determination, if he truly tries, he can’t fail. But all he persists in thinking about is this ridiculous indictment.”
“Ridiculous? It’s the indictment that’s causing all the trouble.”
“It doesn’t mean a thing,” Bradford said. “It’s political, that’s been obvious from the beginning. Harrison’s partners are already making their deals, you can be sure of that.”