"Well, no," Irving Morrell agreed. "But I think I'll take 'em-they do get enough snow for cross-country skiing." He got to his feet, tucking the order into the breast pocket of his tunic. "And now I'd better tell Brigadier General Peterson he's going to have to live without me."
Brigadier General Lemuel Peterson was a lean, lantern-jawed New Englander. He said, "Congratulations, Colonel. I was wondering if you'd end up in command here when they sent me somewhere else. But you're the one who gets to go away instead, and you're actually going to do something useful."
"I hope so, anyhow," Morrell said. "If they give me twenty-nine cents for a budget and expect me to put barrels together out of railroad iron and paper clips, though…"
"You never can tell with those cheapskates in the War Department," Peterson said. If Morrell reported that to the powers that be, he might blight his superior's career. He intended no such thing-he agreed with Brigadier General Peterson. The commandant at Kamloops went on, "Maybe we'll see a little sense from now on, because it looks like the Democrats are going to win this election."
"Yes, sir." Colonel Morrell nodded. "Here's hoping, sir."
Lemuel Peterson could have used that against him-except few officers would have quarreled with the sentiments he expressed. "Why don't you go on home for the rest of the day?" Peterson said. "You're ordered out of here within a week-you'll be as busy as a one-armed paper hanger with hives. You should let your family know. What will your wife have to say?" As he had with his adjutant, Morrell explained how he'd met Agnes in Kansas. Peterson nodded. "That's a point for you. Go on, then. Do you have a wireless set?"
"Yes, sir," Morrell answered. "One more thing to pack."
"True, but that's not what I was thinking of," Brigadier General Peterson said. "You can listen to election returns tonight."
"Oh." Morrell nodded. "Yes, sir. We will do that, I expect."
Agnes exclaimed in surprise when he showed up at the front door. She exclaimed in delight when he told her about the order. "I don't care about Kansas one way or the other," she said, "but this is wonderful. You'll be doing something important again, not just makework."
"I know." He kissed her. "That's what I'm really looking forward to." He kissed her again. "And I knew you'd understand."
"I've got a couple of steaks in the icebox, and some good Canadian beer, too." Agnes raised an eyebrow. "After that, who knows what might happen?"
"The wench grows bold." He patted her on the bottom. "Good. I like it."
What happened after dinner was that he played with Mildred on the living-room floor while the wireless blared out endless streams of numbers. Every so often, his little girl would complain because his mind wasn't fully on their game. "You're listening to that silly stuff," she said.
"You're right," he said. "I'm sorry." He was sorry to disrupt the game. He wasn't sorry, not in the least, about what he was hearing. What everyone had thought would happen was happening: Calvin Coolidge was trouncing Hosea Blackford. Even as he listened, Coolidge's lead in Ohio went up to a quarter of a million votes.
"And Coolidge is also ahead in Indiana, which last went Democratic in the election of 1908," the announcer said. Morrell clapped his hands in not quite childish glee. Mildred gave him a severe look a schoolmarm would have envied. He apologized again.
His daughter eventually went to bed. Morrell and Agnes stayed up a while longer, to let her fall asleep and to hear some more returns. Coolidge kept capturing state after state. By the time they went to bed, too, they had a lot to celebrate-and they did.
C incinnatus Driver knew a certain amount of local pride. "The new vice president, he was borned in Iowa," he said. "How 'bout that?"
His son sent him a jaundiced glance. "And he moved away as fast as he could go, too," Achilles retorted. "He moved as far as he could go, too-all the way out to California. What does that say about this place?"
"I don't know what it says, but I'll tell you what I say," Cincinnatus answered, giving back a jaundiced glance of his own: Achilles was getting altogether too mouthy these days. "What I say is, you can complain as much as you please, but you don't recollect enough about Kentucky to know when you's well off."
Elizabeth nodded. She used her fork to pull a clove out of her slice of beef tongue. "Your father, he right," she said, and took a bite.
At seventeen, Achilles was ready to lock horns with anybody over anything. "What do you two know about it?" he said. "Way you talk, it doesn't sound like you know anything." His own accent was ever more like a white Iowan's these days.
Cincinnatus said, "You're right." That startled Achilles; his father didn't say it very often. Cincinnatus went on, "You know why we talk like we do? You ever wonder 'bout that? Don't reckon so. It's on account of there weren't no schools for black folks there, on account of my ma and pa, and your mother's, too, they was slaves when they was little. Never had no chance to learn like you got here. I'm lucky I had my letters at all. You know that?"
"I better know it," Achilles said sullenly. "You go on about it all the time."
"Mebbe I do. But you better pay some attention, son. You go complainin' 'bout Iowa, you don't know when you's well off."
Achilles got up from the table even though he hadn't finished supper. He stormed away. Amanda stared after him. She was still young enough to be convinced her parents had all the answers, not to be dedicated to proving they didn't. "Oh, my," she said softly.
"Mebbe you laid it on too thick," Elizabeth said.
"Mebbe I did," Cincinnatus answered with a shrug. "Mebbe-but I don't think so. He got to see he don't know everything there is to know jus' yet."
His wife smiled. "When you was his age, didn't you reckon you knowed everything, too, jus' like him?"
" 'Course I did," Cincinnatus said. "My pa thrashed it out o' me. I don't like hittin' a boy that size-he ain't far from a man, even if he ain't as close as he thinks. I don't like it… but if I got to, I got to." Deliberately, he made himself take a bite of tongue. He usually liked it; it had been a treat when he was growing up. But anger spoiled the flavor.
"You got his goat, but he got yours, too," Elizabeth said.
He started to deny it, then realized he couldn't. He let out a long sigh. "Yeah, he done did." He raised his voice: "Come on back an' eat your supper, Achilles. I won't talk no more 'bout politics if you don't." That was as far as he was willing to go.
From the long silence that followed, he wondered if it was far enough to satisfy his son. At last, though, Achilles said, "All right, Pa. That's fair enough." He returned to the table.
"Probably ain't even had time yet to get cold," Elizabeth said.
"No, Ma. It's fine." As if to prove as much, Achilles made tongue and potatoes and carrots disappear. "Mighty good," he said. "May I have some more, please?" He had manners when he remembered to use them.
"I'll get it for you," Elizabeth said. She turned to Cincinnatus as soon as she'd picked up Achilles' plate. "He sure do like his food."
"That's true." Cincinnatus wasn't sure it was a compliment, especially during hard times, but he could hardly deny it.
After supper, Achilles went off to do his homework. He'd never lost his liking for school. That pleased Cincinnatus-pleased him all the more because, even though Achilles seemed to want to disagree with everything he said, his son hadn't rejected the idea that education was a good thing.