SCENE THIRTY THREE Isle D' Tresor, same night.
"Well, first of all you're quite right, James." A clear, commanding, voice interrupted Jim. "You're right. Thomas and the rest of your friends are not lying to you. Sadly, you've been made to believe something not only appalling in the extreme, but completely false. I'm actually very much alive, and quite well, largely due to your unflinching, unrewarded efforts, several years ago. As a matter of fact, on seeing you up and around, if a tad bit perplexed, my friend, I'm feeling better than I have in some time."
Jim's jaw dropped, and he whirled towards the study's doorway. Here was another voice he'd know out of a thousand similar wonder and a million more barely the same. It was somewhat low and crystal clear, with a distinct Illinois timbre and cadence. This voice was Ulysses Simpson Grant's, the President Jim cherished as another father. Now, Grant strode across the room to his young friend. And when the President grasped Jim's arms in greeting, as he'd done hundreds of times before, Jim felt his knees turning to water and his head spinning off his shoulders. This wasn't possible, one diminishing voice shouted in the back of Jim's mind. This couldn't be anything but a good dream, one he was sure to awaken from, any moment. This couldn't be his reality now. That stern reality was that he'd slain this much beloved friend and mentor.
"Sir?" Was all Jim managed to say, still shaking his head, his voice rising, till it cracked with the strain.
"Steady, James." the President advised, "I meant to be here some weeks ago. But my schedule took on one tangle after another. I regret the delay, very much. But I'm here, now, and I've brought all the proof you will need, of my identity, on my person, where it's been these eleven years. If you'll just remove the GAR ring from my right hand. Go ahead, James."
"Yes. Yes, Sir." Jim stammered and did as ordered; pulling a cabochon sapphire and diamond ring off the President's right ring finger.
"Now, what do you find on my right ring finger, Major and how did it get there? Do you recall?" Grant asked.
"It's a scar, Sir. It's an old scar, Sir." Jim said, running his index finger over a long, thin scar that snaked a path across the President's ring finger and onto his knuckles.
"And you and I are the only ones in this room who know where and when and how I came by this particular souvenir of the War. Why don't you tell our mutual friends what happened, James?"
"I, Yes, sir. We were ..outside, no we were at City Point, sir, I …" Jim shook his head, finding his throat almost closing over anything he could find to say . '' … there was a grenade thrown at your tent, sir… ''
"I'm sorry, James, I clearly startled you badly and handled this whole matter awkwardly at best. But what I said earlier still holds true, none of our friends here have ever seen this scar before tonight. And they certainly don't know how I got it." Grant smiled.
"Mr. President, I " Jim shook his head, still bewildered. 'sir?" Jim finally repeated, almost too quietly to be heard,
"Yes, James. And there's your proof." Grant nodded, and placed Jim's left hand on his own right, again. "I'd wager that neither Thomas nor Artemus, Jeremy or Jacques could counterfeit a scar they 've never seen. Wouldn't you?"
"I surely would never bet against you, sir." Jim admitted. "And I don't think there are many who have seen it. After all there were only nine or ten thousand men in that camp, at City Point wasn't it, Mr. President?"
"Nineteen thousand, four hundred and twenty seven effectives, that evening, and it was in front of Petersburg, to be precise, Major. To which I bArtieeve should be added seven thousand, four hundred and fifteen men either on long medical leave, on the sick lists, under guard for one infraction or another, or detailed to General Meade's encampment. Get your numbers right, if you please. And while you're doing that, answer this question; how many staff officers were outside my tent that evening. Do you recall?" Grant chuckled.
"Effectives, sir?" Jim asked, fighting a laugh with a decidedly hysterical edge to it.
"Naturally." The President agreed.
"None, sir. None at all, But there were about a dozen of us worthless types there, sir. We walked out of Staff, and milled around, like a bunch of cadets let out of class early, waiting to go to supper. They were Hal Guildford, Rob Leicester, myself, Tommy Seymour, Nate Bullen, Will Lancaster, Neddy Tyder, Johnny Beaufort, and Richard York, Terence Wesley, Tom Cavendish, and Josh Howard, Sir "Jim answered, still very perplexed.
"So, why don't you explain the matter to our friends, now." Grant encouraged his friend.
"A, a grenade, some shell shocked kid who got away from the field hospital, lobbed a grenade directly at the front of your tent, sir." the younger man explained as ordered.
"Your class ring, from the Point was nearly embedded in your finger; I remember one of the medics's said you could have lost the finger, or your right hand entirely, if infection set in. And one of the other aides, Hal Guilford, I think, lost his arm afterwards. He lobbed the grenade out of your direct path, sir. He saved your life, Mr. President, while the rest of us were busy throwing the Commanding General of the Union Armies to the ground. Yes, sir. I remember that, Mr. President."
"And your own injury at the time, that escapes you, James?" The President probed.
"My own, no sir, I don't recall being injured then." Jim shook his head.
"That day in Baltimore I was all too vividly reminded of it. You ran to the guard line and jumped the young man who threw the grenade, before he could get more than a few yards away. He had no gun. But he had the bayonet off of a standard issue rifle and sliced your right arm open before you got him down." Grant recounted.
"He was a shell-shocked kid as I said, sir. It was no more than a scratch, sir. I'm not surprised it doesn't register with me now." Jim answered, absently rubbing at his wrist.
"Well, the fact is that boy had more than one grenade, we learned afterwards. And he wasn't trying to escape, but going for more of them, when you stopped him." Grant corrected the younger man.
"Sir, Hal was the one who got you out of the path of the d… of the … thing. I just went to see who was crazy enough to try that. After all we were in a camp packed with officers who'd come east from Tennessee with you, and campaigned with you for at least two years at that point, sir."
"That's not my point, Major. My point is, only half a dozen men and at least two of them are gone now, were close enough to my tent that day to know what actually happened. Moreover, you and I are the only ones in this house who were there. So don't dispute with your Commander in Chief, if you please."
"No, sir." Jim nodded, with a wand smile.
"The rumors in camp ran from my being blown to bits by no less than John Singleton Mosby, or JEB Stuart, my old friend James Longstreet, or Jefferson Davis, to a cannon shell landing on my tent and bouncing back into Richmond's City Hall. You were one of those men near enough to know the truth and you gave me some amusing advice about the rumors. Do you recall that?" The President asked.
"Yes, sir. I said, let the rumors fly, General. It will entertain the boys and keep the Rebels guessing for a day or two." Jim recalled. Nodding. "Not such a bad thing in the middle of a long campaign."
"No, not at all."
"But you didn't follow my advice, sir. Why was that, Sir?"
"Because I didn't like the idea of tempting fate when we were pressing so close to ending the whole conflagration. And I didn't want to swell your healthy young ego past bearing." Grant chuckled again.
"Not much danger of that now, sir. But thank you, sir. That's a good memory to get back again." Jim shrugged.
"And not all of them are, I take it, James?"
"No, sir, not all." Jim answered and then grew quiet again. Now Jim began again and stopped again, biting down hard on his lower lip, because he could feel it beginning to tremble like a girl's under this revelation and tears burning at the back of his his face in the direction of his friends, Jim swallowed hard and asked, "Could we… have the room, please, everyone?"
"Sure, Major Youngster." Mac answered for them. "Come on, troops," he suggested to Artie, Ori, Antoinette, Jacques and Miguel. " We're needed elsewhere. Well, anyway, we're not needed here, just now."
"Th' thanks, Mac."
"Think nothing of it, Jimmy."
"I won't." Jim shook his head, managing a moment's flashing grin at an old jest between them. Then he turned his face and his attention back towards Grant.
"Sir, Mr. President, I couldn't begin to say, sir, how glad I am to be proven wrong in this instance, sir. I It was so firmly in my mind that I'd accomplished what Aynsley sent me to do. And that was nothing less than your death, at the hands of a man you literally trusted with your life. . I ...instead of preventing his plot, I became… I became part of it. I became their weapon, nothing more and nothing less. And no one, with the possible exception of Mrs. Grant and your family, Sir could possibly be happier than I. that their plan failed, that day." Jim answered, feeling as if he'd start stuttering at any moment now.
"And I'm just as glad to give you the proof you needed of that. fortunate failure, Jim. I've working to set my schedule for just this journey for more than two weeks, when it became apparent to our mutual friends that you still believed this horrid lie. And the truth is, James, I should have been the one to realize this was the case. I heard what the girl said to you that day, as she was dying." Grant shook his head.
"Liesl, yes, Sir. I believe she did see you. In fact, I'm not convinced now that I didn't see you standing there, myself. But … there was… some confusion." Jim shrugged. "But Liesl, she was … She wasn't even a little sane by that time. She was following the patterning she was given. She was … lost in it, Sir. And it… took her life." Now, the blind man squeezed his eyes tightly shut as if they pained him, but could not keep the tears back. This was the blow that drove him out of himself, more than four years ago, and he could hear the dying girl as vividly now as he did that day.
"But I apologize, Mr. President. I shouldn't even be talking to…I shouldn't be discussing this with you, sir. I'm sorry. I know the protocols backwards and forwards and it's not…It's not suitable. It's not my place, not anymore. It …It can't be." Jim faltered, shaking, in no little shock, still feeling remorse and gnawing shame for a mad girl's death, and his own percieved failures. And as so often before, the President did not react as Jim expected his Commander in Chief would; but as Ulysses Grant would have reacted with one of his own sons.
"James. I'm at fault here, I did startle you badly. I handled this awkwardly at best, probably because I felt as awkward about it as I bArtieeve you do. And I'm remiss, because I still have something that belongs to you. Something that Thomas brought me, once he attempted to use it, to prove your identity, to the authorities in that asylum. It's your class ring, Jim, and I'm a bit late returning it to you. I never understood something though." Grant said and again took Jim's hand, turned it palm up and placed a heavy ring there.
Jim grasped it and ran his fingers over the square cut surface, and the sides covered with the emblems of West Point's Military Academy. Then he slid one finger around the inside of the ring, and slowly, carefully, across the engraving there. "What…what was that, sir?"
"I frankly never understood why someone as eager for command as yourself, my friend, let fellows like Patrick O'Rourke and others graduate ahead of you, that year? Did you after all the discussions I've heard on the matter over the years, truthfully fall asleep in Thomas' classes, Jim?"
"Yes, sir. Yes. I did." Jim laughed. " And actually Jack Pelham was already home in Alabama by then, and Patrick graduated at the head of the class graduating in June. But Mac passed me anyway, so I was prett lucky to get twelfth of forty-five, you see. And I was there on a special arrangement, sir. You wouldn't have known this; I was…too young for the Academy. I should have graduated with the class of "62, not 61. But I pushed and pushed, myself, mostly to get the best grades I could, at the last prep school I went to, the one I went to twice, in fact, in Alexandria. And I … my relatives got some of their friends to pull strings…so I'm …grateful, Mr. President. Only another West Point graduate would …"
"Know with what difficulty these things are earned? I agree." Grant chuckled. "Now, put it back on, Major. You earned that as handily as any one in the class of "61, including that wild tempered George Custer."
"Well, George always had a certain flair, sir." Jim admitted, giving Grant a wand smile. 'mac said he's in the Dakotas, these days?"
"Yes, dealing with the settlers and the Sioux. And I wish him luck with both. But you have a more daunting task ahead then that, my friend. You have to get your strength back, we have a lot of time and a lot of work to catch up on, once you're recovered. I'm counting on you, James, to work hard towards that goal, now. And I'm sure you will prove yourself up to the task at hand, as you always have."
"Mr. President, due respect, I'm afraid that's just not true, sir. I did fail you, just about as thoroughly as humanly possible, sir. I am so sorry, Sir. You deserve much better from me. I betrayed every… I broke every oath, and a good third of Code
If I were sighted right now, sir, I couldn't look you in the face. " Jim buried his face in his left hand and despite his best efforts to the contrary, began to shake, fighting an urge to break down in tears.
"It couldn't be helped." Grant said, letting the younger man's emotions play out. He'd seen enough of his troops and officers reacting in just this way after a horrific battle, And that, the President considered, exactly where Jim stood just now, 'on the march back'. "It couldn't be helped, James, my friend. Nothing was to be done, Because, I now believe, we had no idea, no idea at all how far these plotters were willing to go. Well, I didn't, not until Thomas brought me that ring. We were more used to the usual suspects, I suppose."
"You. .Yes, sir." Jim finally nodded, 'like Miguel, who I used to think might be a genuinely dangerous adversary."
"Perhaps he was at one time. But in fact, Dr de Cervantes was a great help to all of us, James, in our combined effort to win you back again from the deep trouble you were left with. He's quite a remarkable fellow, it seems. But frankly, Jim, I feel I have not done all I could in the situation. I let things hang fire for far too long and then, l took far too long in getting here. I regret, deeply that I wasn't able to get that help for you, sooner. Perhaps if I."
"No, no, sir, I," Jim began, but shook his head, at a complete loss for words. 'due respect, sir, I don't accept any culpability on your part in all this. For one thing, before Mac walked into that asylum, none of our friends knew where I was. For over a year, sir. In fact, I didn't know where I was. So how could you have? Known?"
"I like to think that if I had known sooner, you would have been spared some of this ordeal, James."
"I don't know … I … mean …Thank you, Mr. President.'' Jim said and fell silent again.
Grant studied the man sitting in front of him in silence. West a deal thinner, grayer and quieter than at their meeting in Baltimore. He retained the bearing of a West Point graduate and a line officer of long standing. But his eyes remained sad and stern at once. "You put me in mind of your father, today, James. You have a look of Stephen about you, now. I hadn't noticed that before ."
"I I'll take that as a compliment, Sir." Jim answered. "I …I didn't know you'd met one another."
"Only once in person. That was nearly seven years ago. But we had a healthy, and enjoyable correspondence for some time." Grant replied.
"My Dad… wrote to you, Sir?" Jim asked, clearly astonished. 'dad… didn't write letters. He sent wires, when absolutely necessary. But … well, I'm just the same, Sir. I don't think I've written a dozen letters to anyone excepting my grandmothers, in my whole life."
"Yes, Stephen did strike me as the quiet sort. And he offered me some insights I was glad to have. He wrote that he always knew you would do something important, James. But he admitted not always agreeing with your choices."
"No, Sir. Dad didn't want me going to military boarding schools, and prep schools. He didn't want me to apply to or attend West Point. That was my idea. I wanted it very much. I wanted to be a career soldier, Sir." Jim said quietly. "When I was much younger, yes, I liked the idea of breeding thoroughbreds, racing horses, trotters, all the kind of thing both my grandfathers did. But then someone gave me and incredible set of books, The Song of Roland, El Cid, The Knights of the Round Table, Ivanhoe, The Iliad, … And a life of Alexander. I wanted nothing more after that then the kind of heroics and glory and nonsense those tales are so full of. I think the War taught most, if not all of glory and us that heroics are not easily achieved, and not without …all the attending remorse and pain and grief. But I hardly need to tell you, Sir."
"No, hardly. Still, I haven't any sense from your father's letters that he was anything but proud of your accomplishments. And so he should be. You've done well. However, my young friend there remain two matters in which I am far less than pleased with your recent deportment and worse, some of your recent actions. Please, take a seat, James. I believe we need to have an immediate discussion on those two points."
"Yes, Sir." Jim nodded, reaching for the chair he'd been sitting in some hours ago, and sitting back in it . 'mr. President, if I may say something regarding what I believe you might wish to discuss." the younger man said, uncomfortable in the extreme to be sitting in the President's company, just now.
"You may, Major West, only if you can be brief and to the point." Grant agreed.
"Yes, Sir. Mr. President, you will have been informed, as of course you have every right to be… of my reprehensible, drunken, disorderly behavior, on one particular evening, recently. I have no excuses to make for myself, Sir. I don't intend to fabricate some now. But I can only imagine you were quite disappointed in me, when you learned of it. And I … I'm afraid, Mr. President that it mostly speaks to my present instability, Sir. I can only think you were asked to come here, Mr. President because I have been utterly unable to rid my mind of ... seeing myself doing the worst thing I could ever, possibly imagine doing, taking your life, Sir….Which point I was still arguing with Thomas, as you heard, Sir, earlier tonight." Jim said and slumped back in his chair.
"It can be incredibly difficult, my friend, to erase those thoughts and images from our minds we least wish to think or see or know." Grant offered, quietly. "I would hazard a guess that all of my friends, schoolmates and every soldier who came through the War has such deep embedded nightmares, still."
"Yes, Sir. I'm quite sure of that." Jim nodded. "But you had another point to make with me, Mr. President?"
"I do, James, when I'm certain we're done with this first one. This may seem far too personal a thing for a Commander to ask of a subordinate. So I am instead, merely as a private citizen, which I confidently hope to be in the not too distant future, asking it of my friend, James West. Do you accept those terms, my friend?"
"Yes,… Yes." Jim agreed, not exactly sure how he should phrase his answers now.
"Fine. I would like to make this request of my friend James: I would like his promise that he will take no more such desperate measures as he did the other evening, if and when these nightmares recurr. That he will instead, come to me or another of our friends for what help can be had? Will you promise your friend Ulysses that?" Grant asked, his voice full of sympathy, regret and concern.
"Yes, I … Yes, I will. I promise." Jim nodded, and was surprised to realize he meant every word.
"Very well, then. On this next issue, I may need to take back that wearisome Commander in Chief's mantle, James. I hope not to while we're getting on so well. First, my deepest sympathy is yours concerning the illness of your uncle. I have been quite well impressed with that gentleman's character for some time, through the man he helped to raise. But now I find a quiet courage and extraordinary gravitas in James Randolph that truly should not have surprised me in the least. He's clearly passed on both traits to his namesake, who I know somewhat."
"Th-thank you, Sir." Jim answered, feeling his neck and face grow hot at the President's praise.
"However," Grant went on, and Jim thought. Alright, here it finally comes! "However, my friend, I was very much surprised, and not a little dismayed at the report I received regarding your uncle's desire to help you in an amazingly generous way, and the reaction you had. Possibly you can explain that to me, James, or somehow revise my understanding
of your unmannerly response. Possibly you can aid my understanding on this question of refusing a chance to regain your sight?"
"I'm not entirely sure that I can do that, Sir." Jim admitted. "So far I've failed to explain it to just about everyone I know."
"Perhaps you should take this opportunity now to rephrase your argument, my friend." Grant chuckled. "Your uncle seems quite a talented attorney, have you inherited none of those skills?"
"My uncle is a remarkably talented attorney, raconteur and actor, Mr. President." Jim answered. "I am in fact none of those things."
"Then you've picked up nothing at all, James either from growing up in his household, or working with Artemus?" The President probed.
"It's possible I have, Sir. But nothing that I'm aware of, no. Sir, I will make an attempt at stating my case, if you are still … willing to hear it." Jim asked.
"Entirely."
"Thank you, Sir. The chief dilemma in all this is, as I believe, Sir, the notion of there being a chance to regain the vision I lost, four years on. In plain terms, Sir, the odds are long against that chance, and in favor of no good outcome whatever, Mr. President. It's on that basis that I turned Jimmy's offer down. But I was discourteous about it, Sir, to say the least. And for that I have apologized to my uncle." Jim tried to explain.
"The odds are not in your favor? That is your entire argument, here?" The President asked. "Just that, James, and nothing more?"
"Well, no, Sir. Actually there is one other factor to my … argument. I would be required to spend most of a year, as I understand it, Mr. President preparing for, having and recovering from each of two separate procedures. They cannot
be done in tandem, as I understand it, Sir. I have already lost the better part of four years at this point, to illness and invalidism, and my own folly to begin with. On that basis, I doubt the benefit to risk ratio is a good one, here, Sir. I could essentially be losing yet another year, Mr. President, possibly more, to an effort with no certainty of … good results."
"The time involved then, and the lack of assurance in the result, are your other points of dispute. I see." Grant said, in such a tone that Jim knew very well meant he did not. Jim could almost see the President steepling his finger and resting his chin meditatively on their tips. This was a pose 'the Man' usually adopted while he was waiting for the other party to a discussion to see the error of their ways.
"Yes, Sir." Jim answered glumly. He was adroitly boxed into a corner here. And history taught him that Donelson, Henry, Shiloh, Vicksburg and Chattanooga, along with most of northern Virginia, Simon Bucker, John Pemberton and Robert E. Lee
all had been where he was now. It was not a winning stand.
"So you've accepted the matter as it stands and find no good reason to change your position now?" Grant went on prodding
"You're effectively admitting defeat."
Yes, Sir, as a matter of fact, I am! Jim thought but would not say aloud."I honestly had not approached the question from that perspective, Mr. President." Jim said instead.
"No, it's quite clear to me, that you have not' Grant agreed. "I'd STRONGLY suggest further consideration from just that viewpoint, James, in the very near future, if I were you. And that reminds me, my stubborn friend, I asked my aide to make certain that I brought two items with me today, technically three, but never mind that, and he did so. They are items I'd intended to present to you some time past. But we were …interrupted. I'll ask you to stand at attention again, for a moment, now."
"Yes, of course, Sir." Jim replied, on his feet in and instant, out of long habit and genuine devotion. "But is there something…"
"Not yet, come with me, Major West, if you please.''
"Of… of course, Mr. President.'' Jim answered and obeyed, as always, the 'requests' of his Commander in Chief. Together they went down the main staircase into the room the Grand Balle had been held in, tonight.
Listening, Jim heard enough voices and shuffling footsteps to tell him that a great many, if not all of their guests were still here, still enjoying themselves. He also heard the heavy booted tread of Grant's detail, several of which greeted Jim warmly, to his continuing surprise. A great many taffeta and tulle skirts could be heard swishing across the floor, and great many more footsteps, some the tap-tap of ladies dancing shoes, some the booted steps of their companions, approached the staircase as Jim reached the bottom of it with the President to his left. And in the next instant, everyone there, including Grant, excluding only Jim himself was applauding and happily calling out to the younger man. Even more confused now, Jim turned towards the President.
"Sir, if there's something you think I should say, I couldn't agree more. I apologize for interrupting your visit… and a lot more than that, just lately… I apologize, to all of you, I should have …already about a hundred times…"
"That's not why I asked Mrs. Stuart to ask them to wait till we came downstairs, James. And if you will put off your suit coat and put this one on, there isn't anything else I need or want you to do just at the moment. This is my duty, and one of the few I honestly enjoy. And you know I am a stickler for having such things done at their proper time and in their proper way'' One of the President's aides, Tim McCauley now reintroduced himself and handed the younger man a heavier boiled wool jacket, one that Jim's investigating fingers quickly recognized as a uniform coat, its shoulder boards oddly bare of insignia. Jim complied, as always, wondering what his President had in mind.
"Now, if you will remain standing, while I read this out."
"Yes, Sir. Of course, Sir."
"By order of the President of the United States, the Secretary of War, the Secretary of the Army, the Commanding General, US Armies, and with the approval of the House and Senate Armed Services committee, the Senate Majority leader, the Speaker of the House, and all appropriate authorities involved: As regards James Torrance Kieran West :In recognition of
his long and loyal service, and the constant, courageous performance of his duties at all times and under all conditions, it is ordered by the President, the Secretary of War and the Secretary of the Army, with the adamant support of the Commander, US Armies, that James Torrance Kieran West, Major, retired, Army of the Potomac, should be divested of his Major's rank and …"
"Mr. President, sir, I understand… believe me." Jim interjected.
"I don't think you do, James. However, if I may be permitted to finish reading this, perhaps you will."
"Yes, sir."
"…Should be divested of his Major's rank, in order to take on the responsibilities, rights, honors, privileges and duties pertaining to the rank of Colonel . It is further ordered, in light of the injuries Major West received in the line of duty on numerous occasions, during and after the late War, that proper recognition and acknowledgement of his selfless devotion to duty be awarded the aforementioned Colonel West. In compliance with that order, Colonel James Torrance Kieran West
is hereby awarded the Purple Heart, and in the name of the Congress, the Medal of Honor, for bravery above and beyond the call of duty, which he shown throughout his service to his country. And in particular in the instance of October 17th, 1869 Baltimore, Maryland, on which date, Colonel West acted with no regard for his own personal safety and well being, receiving severe and life threatening injuries, in foiling a violent attempt on the life of the President of the United States. So ordered, and signed this day, January 30th, 1873. Ulysses Simpson Grant, President."
Before Jim could think what to say, the President was pinning and insignia on each shoulder of the uniform. Reaching to first one and then the other, he found they were engraved metal in the shape of an eagle in full flight. And now the roomful of guests applauded and cheered even more loudly, Jim realized, as Robby, Paul and then more and more kin and friends and neighbors crowded around him. Following them came Dani, Stephany and Jeanny, kissing him and making their cousin blush a bit.
Following all of these, Jimmy Randolph took his turn, and quietly shook the President's hand first, thanking him, then turning back to his son.
" They look fine on you, nephew. You should be very proud about now. I know that I am, beyond the words to tell you, and so are our dear hearts who can't be here, tonight, Torry.''
''Th-thank you, Uncle… Thanks, Jimmy… Wait, Jimmy.." Jim answered. But then reached towards his uncle's voice to keep the older man beside him for another moment.
"What is it, Torry?" Randolph asked.
"I … I just want to make sure that you… that you and I get a moment or two to talk, when all this fuss and bother dies down, again, tonight." Jim said. "I … there's something we need to … work out, between us that I left … that I should have …"
"Torry, that's alright now. I believe I understand what you're getting at. We'll talk when your cousins and the other pretty ladies here tonight are done fussin' over you. I'm just goin' t' stake out my regular spot between your Aunt Joanna's peach pie and your cousin Sarah Jane's plum cake over on that dessert table, for now." Jimmy said and left Jim, after squeezing the younger man's arm affectionately.
"Oh, okay, Jimmy." Jim nodded, glad to know his uncle understood him when he couldn't seem to make much sense at all.
"It's okay, Jim. They 're what they feel like, eagles, you're not a Major any longer,Colonel Youngster." Mac Macquillan told Jim now. Jim reached again to feel each one, not sure they could be real. Tears burned at the back of his throat, at the back of his eyes and Jim swallowed hard, but couldn't speak for a long moment.
"Mr. President, sir, I…" Jim faltered, still not sure what to say.
"Are you about to dispute with me on this promotion, too, James?'' Grant laughed. " Well, don't. I believe I am well conversant with all the objections you may wish to make, and I am giving them no more weight now than I would at any other moment in our acquaintance. Therefore, speaking as Commander in Chief, I don't recommend that course of action. Now, stand still, if you please, I have two more medals yet to pin on And I'd rather not mar your new dress uniform. You should have this promotion five years ago and we all know that. In fact, I'm not entirely sure why you didn't even mention it."
"The War put a different light on the … career plans I once had, sir. I admit, the prospect of commanding a regiment, a brigade or more, into battles such as we saw in the Overland campaign, didn't have its old appeal. I found the work I was doing considerably more satisfying, sir." Jim replied.
"What Jim means, sir," Artie intervened, "is that he loves looking for, finding and getting into trouble. Always has. Probably always will. It's just his nature."
"Thanks, Artie," Jim sighed.
"Think nothing of it, Jim."
"I won't. And why are the rest of you being so infernally quiet? You knew this was going to happen, didn't you? You knew I was going to come down the stairs here and get a promotion, just when I expected a … discharge, at best."
"We have some very highly placed sources, Colonel Youngster." Mac laughed. "We know everything that goes on in the District."
"And just when are you going to put in for your stars, Mac? You've got … all the seniority in the service they could ask for, and a lot of the brains on this team. You just won't take any of the credit for what you do, for what you make sure we get done. " The new Colonel asked.
'Thomas is the shy, retiring type, Jim." Jacques chuckled. "He would not blow his own horn if l' Arch Ange Gabriel handed it to him. He's as quiet as the rest of us are gregAnious. He balances the team, along with Ori, who knows how to sit and listen, gleaning anything and everything valuable from our rambling discussions."
"Congratulations, Colonel." Ori added, walking up to shake Jim's hand. "I agree this was overdue."
"Yeah, I know, Ori, thanks. Of course that may have something to do with a little trouble we ran into, about four years worth, that started about fifteen years ago? …I think in your neck of the woods they 're already calling it the Recent Unpleasantness? In my neck of the woods we just call it the Civil War. And I wasn't top of the class, though. John du Pont got that spot pinned down but good, almost from Day one. Mr. President, I'm grateful of course for… for this promotion, and the medals. As I said a moment ago, this certainly isn't what I expected, after …"
"It's not a gift, James, it's and acknowledgement. I'm not inclined to hand out empty honors. You earned this rank and you're going to earn a Brigadiership in it, or I'm much mistaken. We have a great deal of work to catch up on, when you get back to Washington. How soon can we expect you?" Grant demanded.
"Sir, I don't' know. I suppose I hadn't considered it." Jim said which was only the truth.
"Then I suggest you consider it and come up with and answer. But I think I've worn out my welcome. You look a bit tired, Colonel."
"It's not that, sir. I'm … amazed, as always by your… generosity. And I still don't know how I can possibly, ever repay you."
"By giving me the benefit of your native candor and discernment. You have a quick mind, James, and a gift for reading character. I would trust implicitly anyone you trust for that reason, and vice versa. I need your advice and counsel, added
to Thomas's, Jacques and Artemus, if I'm to be able to function in my own office, without undue fear of attack, or ill-advised confidence. You know my reputation for trusting the wrong people is something I've long been criticized for. Well, in this case there's no room for criticism, and not much margin for error. I need someone to train and supervise a new cadre of agents. James Richmond, as you may not know James, is getting ready to retire. And I'll likely have to make a political appointment to his role as Director of the Service. But that doesn't mean I must put up with some young stranger as my Liaison with the Service. I want you in that post, James, as soon as you're able, unless something more advantageous to both of us presents itself in the meantime."
''Sir… '' Jim began again, and stopped.
'' If that's the only way you can come up with to address your Commander in Chief, I'm not surprised you hesitated there, James. I know I've startled you twice this evening. But I was under the impression that you'd taken the shocks in an appropriately positive manner. And it seems to me that the answer to my earlier question is one I can provide for both of
us. Colonel West. Do you have any notion at all of when the last time was you took any of your accumulated leave?''
''No… no, sir, I'm not really sure." Jim stammered.
'' Just as I thought. Well, I had another of my aides look into that question and it seems it's been something close to seven years now. In other words, you're quite a bit overdue for a vacation, James. As of tonight therefore you are on five months leave of absence, promptly at the end of which time I intend to find you getting to work in the Liaison Office. ''
'' Five…five months, sir?'' Jim asked.
'' Are you getting ready to dispute numbers with me again, Colonel?''
''N-no, sir, certainly not, sir.''
''That's as well, since I wouldn't accept your position in any case on THIS particular matter. Get well, James, we've got a lot of work to do, with a whole new cadre of agents being trained and graduated soon. They 'll need your experience and I'll need your judgment very badly indeed.''
'' I'm … I'll be glad to do whatever I can… sir. However, I'm not …"
''You're not what, Colonel West?"
''I'm not sure the telegraph wires are in good working order, sir, between the White House and Leavenworth or Denver, or Alexandria for that matter… Any one of which Federal prison locations I fully expect to be incarcerated in before that five months is over, Mr President.''
''On what basis do you expect any such thing to happen, Colonel?''Grant demanded.
''On the basis, sir, that I was deeply involved, some four years ago in a plot to take your life. And the Code of Military Justice, as well as the Manual of Arms and the record of General Orders amending both of those volumes, as well as the Rules of Engagement, Mr President, all of those documents clearly state that being a principal participant in and attempted assassination of a senior officer is considered a courts martial offense. And in fact, if what I am beginning to understand of some nine years back is true, sir, if that plot against your life, and the lives of a number of other Union generals had come to fruition, I would have been summarily executed for treason, as we were then at War, sir. And that would have been the only POSSIBLE resolution to such a scenario. ''
''In that case, I believe you should be thanking Thomas, Artemus and Jacques for preventing just such a scenario at the time.''
"Yes, yes, Sir." Jim nodded, almost numb from the number and degree of shocks he'd taken.
''Torry, '' Dani Randolph called out, taking his arm. ''Oh, excuse me, Mr. President, I hope you don't mind if my cousin Torry comes back to the party, now. We've got his dance card so full he'll be on his feet the rest of the night, I'm afraid. Every pretty girl in three counties around wants to dance with our new Colonel. That is, sir, the ones who haven't asked me if they might dance with you, Mr. President.''
"Dani!" Jim exclaimed rolling his eyes.
"James, your manners clearly need as much polishing as your boots." Grant chuckled. "That's quite alright, Mrs. Randolph, the new Colonel looks in need of a bit of exercise, take him with you by all means. As for myself, I don't dance at all. It's simply not a skill I own. I'll be in Richmond most of this week, James, and then I go back to the District. We'll talk further when your social schedule lightens somewhat.''
''Yes sir, of course, Mr. President. Good night sir. And … and thank you, Mr. President." Jim said quietly, once more shaking Grant's hand just as Dani led him away and back to the party.
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