The Titans (31 page)

"Uncle Sam's an officer-I mean he was. In Mexico. Picked up his nickname at West Point. 'Count of his initials. There's a picture he sent me when I asked-was He pointed to the wall. Gideon hadn't noticed the framed photograph before. He crossed to examine it He could see nothing unusual in the full-length portrait of a somewhat ordinary soldier wearing a long military coat and clamping a cigar in his teeth against the background of a tent. Marble went on: "After the war, they sent him to California. Away from his family. I guess the loneliness turned him to what a lot of us turn to-was He dropped the letter in his lap; took the glass from 434Lost Lave his daughter's hand. He drank the contents in several quick swallows. "Uncle Sam served in the Fourth Illinois. He saved my life one night in bivouac. Like a dumb fool I got into a card game with five of his noncoms. One was a cheat I called him on it. The pack of 'em started to beat the tar out of me. Like to killed me before Uncle Sam come along. He knocked the ringleader down, gagged him with a bayonet tied across his mouth and marched him off smart as you please. I probly wouldn't be here if it wasn't for Uncle Sam. We write each other every chance we get. He's been pretty miserable since he left the service. "What sort of exalted position does he have now?" Margaret wanted to know. "This here-was Marble tapped the letter with his empty glass. "comsays he went up from Galena to Springfield-was For Gideon's benefit: "Springfield, Illinois. To enroll. He figured they could use him since he's had so much experience. Eleven years with a regular commission. He caught the governor's eye, and now he's working for the Adjutant General, mustering in militia units. Gets paid three dollars a day!" "About what he's worth," Margaret said. "Dammit, girl, you quit speakin" of Uncle Sam that way! He's one of the finest soldiers who ever trod this earth. Fought like a maniac at Chapultepec, he did. General Worth cited him for distinguished service. Major Bob Lee commended him, too. Why if he was on our side now-was "We'd lose," Margaret finished. Marble scowled. "Shows what you know." He turned to Gideon to find a more receptive audience. "Uncle Sam says they may put him in charge of a regular regiment. The 21st Illinois. A bunch of no-goods everybody calls the Mattoon Mob. He'll straighten "em out! We been good friends 'cause we understand each other. We The Titansbledce understand how much soldierin" means-and how a man sometimes can't fit in after he's had a taste of it" He fingered the letter, regret on his face. "Uncle Sam's pretty strong about the war. Says we got only two p'litical parties left. Traitors an' patriots. I don't expect I'll hear much more from him. But we'll hear plenty about him, you count on it. Uncle Sam Grant-you remember his name and see if I ain't right." Gideon tasted his whiskey. Horrible stuff. He fought to keep from making a face. Margaret looked at him as if to ask whether he'd seen enough. Marble held out his glass. "Another tot, if you please." "Papa, I think you've-was "Another, honey." The man's fixed smile belied his annoyance. Margaret bristled, then gave in and refilled the glass. "So you're in the cavalry, Lieutenant-?" "Kent. Yes, I am." "Mighty fine service. I was a horse soldier myself. Kentucky Mounted Volunteers. We were with Zach Taylor. President Taylor--" He drank. "Old Rough an' Ready. I fought under his command at Buena Vista. Twenty-third of February, 1847. Did Margaret tell you I was at Buena Vista?" "I believe she did mention-was "Papa," Margaret broke in, "Lieutenant Kent can't stay long. I doubt he wants to hear about old campaigns-was "How do you know what he wants to hear about?" He drank again. "Fill this up!" "No, you shouldn't-was "For Christ's sake quit arguing. Fill it." Margaret closed her eyes a moment, then obeyed. Marble wiped a drop of spittle from his lip. "I went almost the whole way with Zach Taylor. Palo Alto. Re- saca de la Palma-my God, what a bunch of fighters 436Lost Love we had in that war! Stalwarts! My friend Uncle Sam Grant-his ma named him Ulysses after some old Greek story-I don't know which one, nobody knew any Greek stories in the Kentucky hills where I was raised. Uncle Sam could fight like a son-of-a-bitch. He wasn't the only one, though. There was Lieutenant Longstreet. Lieutenant Meade. Oh-an' Captain Bragg. Old Braxton Bragg. He had balls as hard as the shell he lobbed out of his cannon. You know much about Buena Vista, Lieutenant?" Gideon shook his head. "We fought on a rainy day. Miserable, shitty weather-was "Papa." "Sorry, sweet." But he wasn't. "Old Scott, that damn turncoat Virginian who's runnin' the army up in Washington, he'd taken a lot of our men for it the campaign to knock out Mexico City. We had only about five thousand effectives left Know how many Santa Anna had with him when we tangled?" "No, sir." "Twenty thousand! Jesus, Jesus!-we had our work cut out, we did!" He rocked back and forth. His discolored dentures glistened. Made of animal teeth, Gideon suspected. Margaret stood near her father's chair, speaking to Gideon with her eyes: You see? He felt obliged to offer another comment: "President Davis was with you, wasn't he?" "He surely was! Why, there wasn't a hotter partisan the live-long day than Colonel Davis of the Mississippi Rifles." Marble drained his drink. He seemed to look through Gideon to the lost, wintry day of victory. "Davis took a bad wound. But he never stopped fighting, He kept those Mississippi boys in their red flannel shirts The Titansbledcg an' white pants scrappin' like devils-was His voice dropped to a murmur "We fought near a mountain pass. La Angostura. The Narrows. A little ways on where the valley widened out, there was this hacienda called Buena Vista. That's where of' General Torrejon took our measure." The rheum-filled eyes shone. Without so much as a glance at his daughter, Marble extended his glass. She filled it again. "God, there were brave boys on that field. Bragg wheeled his light battery hither and yon, going wherever things were the hottest. And old Rough and Ready- nobody could ruffle that old fighting cock. He sat there on that farm plug he rode-Old Whitey-ridic'lous animal-to " A broad gesture. His hand nearly upset the glass Margaret was extending. Marble snatched the glass and gulped. "comb Taylor, he was cool as a pond in February. He saw the greaser line crumblin' some, so he says, "Give them a little more of the grape, Captain Bragg. Give them a little more of the grape." Outnumbered or no, we had an army!" Marble raised his glass to salute the vanished companies. Then he finished the whiskey. A sardonic grin distorted his mouth: "If you been around Margaret any time to speak of, Lieutenant Kintz-was "Kent." "Oh, tha's right. Sorry. Get a little foggy here-was He tapped the empty glass against his temple. "Kent, not Kintz. Mus' remember that." Once more the ritual of extending the glass, which Margaret filled to the brim. Gideon wondered why she pandered to the man's vice. Was she tired of battling him? "What was I saying?" Marble belched. "Oh, yeh- 438Lost Love Margaret She don't cotton to warfare, although it's the most honorable calling a man can have. Serving his country. Serving his flag-she don' understand it because she's a woman." The careless condescension put fire in Margaret's cheeks. Her hands fisted at her sides as Marble went on: "She don't know how it felt to be there at the hacienda. General Torrejon's lancers tried to break through from the rear. That's when us mounted boys from Kentucky he'ped carry the day. Us an' Colonel Yell's Arkansas regiment and some Indiana sharpshooters on the roof of the hacienda buildings. I killed four greasers for sure and two more possibles. Then I lost my horse. A greaser caught me on the ground an' hacked my left leg to pieces with his saber. Another one shot me through the right leg before an Indiana boy killed both of "em. When I woke up, there was a gent with a bloody hacksaw standin" over me. My legs were gone. I'll admit I cried some. But not too much-was The wrinkles around Marble's eyes deepened. He saw glory in the room's dark corners. "I stopped soon as I heard we'd sent old Santa Anna runnin' to save his skin. It was the finest day I ever spent. That kind of a day a dumb dirt farmer's privileged to experience once in his life, if God's good to him." Margaret turned away. "Gloriousl So don' you listen to what Margaret says, Lieutenant Kin-uh, Kent." He was blubbering now; submerged in the liquor and the memories. He grew waspish: "Women don't have any grasp of how it is with a man. A man's got to prove he can stand up to the worst. That's why war can be a glorious thing-was He sipped and leaned his head back, gazing at the ceiling but seeing bright pennons and the red smear of The Titansbledci cannon beneath a drizzling sky. His voice was barely audible: "Give "em a little more of the grape, Cap'n Bragg" Marble kept talking, an unintelligible mumble. His right arm lolled over the side of the chair. The last of the whiskey spilled on the carpet. Gideon caught one more word, pronounced slowly; savored: "Glorious." He rose. "I'd better be going. A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Marble." Margaret's father tried to focus his eyes. "Yessir, Lieutenant Kintz. You come back. Like to tell you the whole story. The whole action, hour by hour. You can be proud you said yes to the cause, it's-was His head flopped over. A prolonged, wheezing sigh. "coma glorious thing for a man to do." Gideon put on his shako as he started out. Margaret hurried after him while the white-haired man dozed and mumbled. Gideon opened the door. Marble roused: "Forgot to-call me Sergeant. Everyone knows-the Sergeant, he was-at Buena Vista-was Margaret slammed the door and faced him on the sour landing. Her lips looked bloodless. "Answer me now, Gideon. Do you still want to be what he was?" She shook both his arms. "Do you?" IV He knew what reply she wanted. He knew he might be able to evade her until she was calmer. He didn't want to hurt her, but he was still annoyed that she'd think him so easily influenced: "I can see why you hate what happened to your father. But it strikes me Buena Vista's a good memory for him, not a bad one." 440Lost Love "He's too drunk to know the difference. He's been drunk for fourteen years!" Fatigue and his aches and his inexperience with this sort of ideological fencing drove him to snap at her: "You don't heir) much. Whenever he asks for the busthead, you hand it to him." "If I didn't, someone else would. The neighbors will fetch him whiskey any time he thumps on the wall." "Where's he get the money?" "From Aunt Eliza. He's worse when he doesn't have liquor in him. He screams and raves-she can't stand to see him hurting. She hates it more than she hates alcohol." "He may be hurting, but I'd say he's a proud man. A brave one, too." "Brave? He's pathetic! Look at that man he worships-was "Uncle Sam?" "A sot who failed at everything once he left the army. Failed at farming. Failed at peddling real estate comd you know what he was doing before he got that pitiful job papa's so excited about? He was living on his family's charity. Clerking in his father's leather goods store in Galena-but even his own father and brothers couldn't stand him. They wouldn't lend him so much as a penny because they knew he'd throw it away in a saloon. You call that kind of man a worthy friend? Someone to admire?" "But maybe your father's right. Maybe the man can't be happy anywhere except in the army." She scoffed: "If he's typical of the new Union troops, I can imagine their behavior. They'll drill in grog shops and parade with rum in their canteens. Contrary to what papa says, nobody's ever going to hear of Uncle Sam-unless he's shot down drunk on a battlefield!" Testily: "Well, if he wants to go out that way-if it makes him happy-why not?" T'Damn you, Gideon Kent! Hasn't it sunk in yet? Papa was just like you before he went to Mexico-was She started to beat at him with her fists. "Just like you backslash was "Hold on, Margaret. I'm worn out-" The flying fists hammered his chest. He batted her left hand aside, hard: "I said hold on!" Silence. She lowered her fists in defeat: "I guess bringing you here didn't do any good." "What did you expect? That I'd offer to quit the troon because I might wind uo crippled too? I said it before. That's a risk I accept. We better get a few things straight. I love you. I want to be with you-marry you. But not at the price you're asking." "I know you won't resign. I just want you to be realistic about what can happen to you." "What am I supposed to do? Put in a request for duty behind the lines? The hell with that! I want a chance at the Yanks." "You're angry again-was "You're damn right. You make me feel like a baby instead of a man. I don't think the war's going to be as bad as you make out. But even if it is-which I doubt-I mean to do my part." She looked much smaller all at once. "I can't even convince you to-take care of yourself? Be cautious-?" He grabbed her forearms. "Being cautious won't accomplish a blasted thing! Unless we go at the Yanks full tilt-was "Gideon." "comthere isn't a chance of our win-was "Gideon!" Her eyes frightened him. "What is it?" "Take your hands off me." Paling, he did. His arms dropped to his sides. His fingertios drummed against his dusty blue trousers. Her voice started loud and grew louder: "i he Titansbledda 442Lost Love "You can call me wrong-headed. You can call me unpatriotic-call me anything you want. I love you. But war has cost me too much. I couldn't stand the sight of you coming back hurt. Ruined-the way he is-no, let me ftnishl I'll have nothing to do with this war. Or-was She closed her eyes. Spoke from her pain: "Or any man who involves himself in it." "Then you'll have nothing to do with me, goddamn it!" A slight nod. "I realized that a few minutes ago." A sad shrug. "I suppose it's better to have a little hurt now than a lot of it later." She flung an arm around his neck; pressed her wet cheek against his: "Goodbye, Gideon." Before he could think of what to say, she rushed back into the flat. He heard the bolt slide home. "Margaret?" He pounded the door, his temper making him roar. "Open up!" A man's head poked from a doorway on the first floor. "Who the fire's doin" all the hollerin'-?" "Shut the hell up!" he bawled, beating the door. The clotted spots on his knuckles began to bleed again. Finally, he gave the door a ferocious kick and ran down the stairs past the goggling tenant. He stormed out of Melton's Court and headed for the end of the horsecar line. A steam whistle sounded on the river, shrill as a cry of pain. He swore nonstop. Booted anything in his path-a broken vegetable crate; a stone; the putrid-smelling corpse of an immense rat. Damn her for being a soft, scared woman! She'd ruined what had begun as the