Gone to Texas (3 page)

Christopher was stunned. "The President? General Jackson?"

"The same. He is planning on paying us a visit in a few weeks. Prior to the arrival of the board of visitors. I suspect his interest in your progress stems from the high regard in which he held your father."

"Yes, sir."

"I was pleased to be able to inform him that your marks are quite satisfactory in every regard."

"Thank you, sir."

"Don't thank me. You have earned those marks by virtue of your hard work and dedication to duty. In mathematics you currently stand fourth in your class, with credits of one hundred and ninety-seven out of a possible two hundred. In French you are fifth, rating ninety-eight out of a possible one hundred credits. On the roll of general merit, therefore, you stand at two hundred and ninety-five out of three hundred. Very commendable. As was the case last year, I expect to see your name on the list of 'distinguished cadets.' "

"Yes, sir." Christopher's cheeks burned with the fever of pride. To be on the list of distinguished cadets—the first five in each class—was a conspicuous honor. Those five names would be certified to the secretary of war for inclusion in the army register.

"You are doing equally as well in natural philosophy and chemistry," continued Thayer, and rattled off
Christopher's current marks in those two difficult disciplines. Christopher was not at all surprised to learn that Thayer knew his ratings in such detail. The superintendent had a phenomenal memory, and kept himself well-informed of the standing of both the best and the worst of his cadets. In order to be well-acquainted with the details of the Academy, he received daily reports on each cadet.

"As I recall," continued Thayer, as they passed between the Academy and the mess hall, heading down the path to the riding hall, "General Jackson wrote a letter of recommendation for your admittance into the Academy. That is quite an honor for you, I am sure. Ture, the President and I have had our differences. As you may know, I had to severely discipline two of his nephews, and on one occasion he reinstated a cadet whom I had been forced to dismiss."

"Yes, sir." Christopher studied Thayer's profile, looking for a flicker of emotion behind the superintendent's stony mask. Thayer's words were sharp with disapproval, but his features were no sterner than usual.

"Nonetheless, the President continues to evince his support for the Academy. It is well for us that he sees fit to do so, Mr. Groves. Every year, it seems, a bill to abolish this institution is introduced in Congress. I understand that this year such a bill was put forward by Davy Crockett, a representative from the President's home of Tennessee. Hmph!"

Christopher knew that sound. It meant Thayer was contemptuous of Crockett or the bill or both. But what wasn't clear was why Thayer had summoned him—and why the superintendent was telling him all of this. If Thayer's purpose was only to inform him of Andrew Jackson's interest in his progress at West Point, then what was the reason for discussing the Academy's travails? Christopher didn't have a clue. All he could do was listen and learn. Yet he could not dispel a feeling of deep anxiety. Whatever lay at the end of the path
down which Thayer was leading him, Christopher was pretty certain he wasn't going to like it.

"From the beginning," said Thayer, "the Academy has had to fight for its very existence. Americans have always had an abiding distrust of the concept of a standing army. Understandable, since in the days when we were yet British colonies the redcoats garrisoned in our towns seemed to be here for the purpose of occupation and oppression, in spite of their claims that they were intended to protect our frontiers against the French and the Indians. We cherish the perception that we are a nation of farmers who will lay aside our plows, pick up our rifles, and defend our country in volunteer armies when the need arises."

"I believe it was Alexander Hamilton, sir, who said that war is a science."

"Precisely. There have always been a few farsighted individuals who understand the need for an officers' training school. But this academy would have never been established but for the possibility that officers trained here in military engineering would also be able to build roads and harbors and bridges. I believe the efforts of our graduates in that vein have proven the value of advanced scientific training a thousand times over. Still, our enemies continue to attack us. Some of them complain that this is a place of privilege, producing a military aristocracy. How quickly they forget the lessons of our recent war. Volunteer armies can triumph if well-led. The President's victory at Chalmette is a case in point. But for every triumph there were many failures, and all because our brave citizen-soldiers were commanded by imcompetents, woefully ignorant of even the most basic precepts of military strategy."

Thayer sighed, and abruptly stopped walking. He looked all about him, and his piercing gaze came finally to rest on Christopher's face. "I fear our countrymen's
prejudice against professional soldiering will always be a cross for us to bear. This academy's reputation for civil engineering is all that redeems us to the popular sentiment of our times. And since there is no army to speak of, a cadet's prospects are slim, if his preference is a military career, unless of course he wishes to be posted on the frontier. What is your preference in that regard, Mr. Groves?"

"I—I'm not sure, sir. I know many of the cadets leave the Army shortly after graduation for employment as engineers or teachers."

"Is that what you have in mind for yourself?"

Christopher's reply had not satisfied Thayer. "No, sir," he said. "I want a military career."

"Our best cadets qualify for the Corps of Engineers. That is the place for young officers of vigor and ingenuity. Bearing in mind that you have some time yet to spend with us, I believe that in the end you will qualify in that respect."

"I was thinking more along the lines of the cavalry, sir."

The truth seemed to disappoint Thayer. Christopher knew as well as anyone that the cavalry was not held in high regard. The United States Light Dragoons—nick named the "Lazy Dogs"—was treated like the orphan stepchild of the United States Army.

"Ah yes," said the superintendent. "Your knowledge of and love for horses. And you seek adventure, no doubt."

Here it comes
, thought Christopher. O'Connor was right. This
was
about Greta Inskilling. Thayer was going to tell him what he already knew—that an officer in the cavalry had no business contemplating a future shared with a young woman from the upper crust of society. What could a cavalryman expect to offer such a woman? A Spartan existence at some remote and dusty frontier outpost? An income which was scarcely sufficient for a
single man to make ends meet, and a meager pension to reward a lifetime of thankless service? At least a member of the Corps of Engineers enjoyed the prospect of lucrative private practice. Christopher braced himself for what was coming next.

"I have received another letter besides the President's concerning you," said Thayer. "From a Mrs. Emily Cooper."

Caught completely off guard, Christopher was speechless. His flesh tingled, as from a thousand tiny pinpricks.

Thayer's perpetual expression of stern disapprobation seemed more severe than usual. "I assumed upon receipt of the letter that the lady intended to ask permission to visit her young cousin, Adam Vickers. So I was much surprised to find hardly a mention of Cadet Vickers. Mrs. Cooper very much wants to see you, Mr. Groves."

"Me? But why?"

"She did not share her reasons with me. I must admit that it was with some reluctance that I gave her permission."

"Yes, sir," said Christopher. He didn't know what else to say.

"I am aware of the . . .
connection
between your father and Emily Cooper. I am also aware of the animosity which exists between you and Cadet Vickers, no doubt as a direct result of that connection."

Christopher's face felt hot. "If there is animosity, it is not on my part, sir."

"Perhaps not. But it exists, and is a source of grave concern for me. This academy's reputation is a fragile thing, Mr. Groves. West Point has many enemies. The scandal which swirled around the dismissal of my predecessor, Captain Partridge, came perilously close to destroying us. Another scandal might do the trick. Do you understand what I am trying to say?"

"Yes, sir," said Christopher stiffly. There was more he wanted to say, but he was inhibited in the presence of
this man who was second only to God when it came to power over Christopher's fate.

One corner of Thayer's grim mouth curled in what might have been a wintry smile. "You are wondering why I gave Mrs. Cooper permission to visit West Point if I am so concerned by what might transpire as a consequence of that visit."

"Yes, sir. As a matter of fact I was wondering precisely that."

"Two reasons. One, it is not my nature to ignore or flee from unpleasant situations. And two, I have absolute faith in your tact and your fidelity to this institution."

"Thank you, sir."

Thayer nodded. "I expect Mrs. Cooper to arrive in a matter of days. I know you will conduct yourself at all times with the best interests of the Academy in mind. Now, I intend to have my afternoon ride. That is all." He turned toward the nearby riding hall and stables, took two steps, and turned back. "Good luck to you, Mr. Groves."

"Thank you, sir."

Thayer spun on his heel and walked briskly away, head down, hands clasped behind his back.

Standing there in the hot sun, Christopher felt cold. What could Emily Cooper, née Vickers, want from him? Whatever her motives for coming to see him, he was certain that no good would come of it.

Chapter 3

Christopher tried his level best not to let the imminent visit of Emily Cooper distract him from his studies. He labored to convince himself that there was nothing to it, and that nothing would come of it. The woman had loved his father—he gave her the benefit of the doubt on that score. She must have, to have risked everything—her good name, her family's respect—to engage for so many years in what could only be described as a scandalous affair. Maybe she was coming to apologize to him, to try to explain why she had done what she'd done. And if she did ask for his forgiveness? Christopher decided he would give it. That would a gentleman's course, and bitter recriminations wouldn't alter the past.

And what would come of the visit? Right away Christopher got a taste of the changes Emily Cooper would bring about in his life. That he had been summoned by Superintendent Thayer spread like wildlife through the corps. At every opportunity his classmates beseeched him to tell the gory details. Christopher stonily refused to divulge any information to anyone. Except O'Connor. He and O'Connor shared a room with Gil Bryant and immediately after supper O'Connor found Christopher alone in their quarters.

"You were wrong," said Christopher. "As usual. It had absolutely nothing to do with Greta Inskilling."

O'Connor was surprised. "I thought for certain it did,
especially since you refuse to tell anyone what transpired between you and Old Silly."

"No. No, it's much worse."

"Worse? Good Lord." O'Connor sat down and leaned forward. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

"I doubt it. The superintendent informed me that Emily Cooper is coming here to visit with me."

He watched his friend closely. Never had the subject of his father's lurid private affairs been broached between them. They had talked about everything else under the sun, except that. O'Connor had sensed from the start that it was a sensitive subject, and avoided it out of respect for his friend's feelings. Christopher was curious now to know what O'Connor, a Tennessean, knew about the whole business. Surely he knew something. O'Connor's expression betrayed the fact that, indeed, he knew a great deal.

"Emily Cooper?" O'Connor was reading Christopher's face, as well, and could see that to be disingenuous—his first instinct—would not pass muster. "Yes, I've heard about her and your father."

"What exactly have you heard?" Christopher's tone of voice was defensive. He couldn't help it.

"It is a well-kept secret—by almost everybody."

"God," groaned Christopher, dismally.

"Look on the bright side . . . "

"I just can't fathom," said Christopher, "why she would come all this way to see me."

O'Connor brandished a pipe, packed it with tobacco, and fired it up. He sat there puffing a moment, pondering the situation, filling the room with fragrant blue smoke. Such a blatant disregard for the regulations on O'Connor's part was so commonplace that Christopher thought nothing of it.

"There is nothing to be gained by trying to understand why a woman does what she does," decided O'Connor. "There is no logic to it. I am convinced that, more often
than not, they do not themselves know the reasons for their actions. 'The Heart has its reasons which Reason knoweth not.' Chateaubriand, wasn't it? Or Pascal?"

"Pascal. You're a big help, O'Connor."

O'Connor grinned. "Were I you, it's Adam Vickers I would worry about, and not her."

"Why? What do you think he'll do?"

"Well, that depends on what
she
does, and how you react. Mark my words, Vickers will be looking for any excuse to pick a fight with you."

Christopher's gesture of disdain was full of youthful bravado. "If he wants a fight all he has to do is ask for it. I'll be more than happy to oblige."

"You don't mean that. Be sensible, Christopher. You could be drummed out of the Corps."

"Words of caution from you?
That's
rich."

No longer was O'Connor grinning. The ne'er-do-well attitude was gone now, replaced by sober concern.

"Don't jeopardize your career, my friend. Not for the likes of Adam Vickers."

"You never take
my
advice, do you, O'Connor?"

"Shame on me if I don't. But I always thought you had better sense than I."

"I do."

O'Connor laughed, and Christopher laughed with him. That was one of the things Christopher liked about O'Connor. No matter how grim the situation, O'Connor could always make him laugh. Never take life too seriously. That was O'Connor's golden rule. Christopher decided he would try to live by it as he awaited Emily Cooper's visit.