Free Gone to Texas by Jason Manning

bands of Grecian ornamentation. Three towering windows faced south, with three more on the north side. On the east was the great Venetian window. Imperial-blue and sunflower-yellow draperies fell from cornices decorated with gilded eagles. Muslin curtains softened the sunlight. The walls were covered with lemon yellow paper of French pedigree, trimmed with blue velvet cloth borders. Bracket lights and "French plate" mirrors adorned the walls. Mantelpieces of black Egyptian marble enhanced the fireplaces. A blue-and-yellow Brussels carpet covered the floor. The furniture—twenty-odd chairs, several sofas, mahogany pier tables with black marble tops, and a score of gleaming brass spittoons—added to the room's operatic splendor. It was the most luxurious and appealing room Christopher had ever seen.
    "This isn't at all what I expected," confessed Singer in a reverent whisper.
    Christopher laughed nervously. "Nor I."
    "I suppose our president isn't quite so uncivilized as they make him out to be," said the dragoon with a grin.
    "Well, it's not bad for a backwoodsman, I'll say that much."
    A black man in a brass-buttoned blue swallowtail coat and yellow breeches appeared to ask them if they would care for anything to drink.
    "I'd better not," said Singer sadly. "Not while I'm in uniform and in the vicinity of the General."
    "I could use a brandy to cut the dust," said Christopher. "I don't have to worry about that anymore."
    Christopher was just finishing the brandy when Giusta returned.
    "The President will see you now, M'sieu Groves," he said, his heavy accent a consequence of his previous employer's preference for using French while discussing matters with his steward. John Quincy Adams was a cosmopolitan man, fluent in many languages. On the other hand, it was said that Andrew Jackson was fluent only on the frequent occasions when he launched into one of his tirades, notorious for their astonishing invective.
    "What about the lieutenant?" asked Christopher.
    "I imagine he would do well to return to his regiment," replied the old ex-soldier. "It is you alone the President wishes to see, m'sieu."
    Singer was crestfallen. So was Christopher. He and the dragoon had shared life stories on the long road from West Point, and in so doing became friends, and Christopher realized that in all likelihood they would never meet again. The dragoon's expression made it apparent that he felt the same way.
    "Well, I guess this is it, then," said Christopher.
    Singer nodded. "No help for it. Maybe we'll meet again."
    "It's a big country."
    "But a small world, after all."
    They shook hands, and Christopher followed Giusta out of the East Room, wondering—as he had a hundred times a day during the long journey to Washington—what the President of the United States could possibly want with him.

Chapter 7
    While the first floor of the President's house was open to the public, Andrew Jackson's personal and business life was confined to the second, except for the frequent levees held in the East Room, now that it was fit for something besides laundry. The upstairs rooms included the Green Room, which served as Emily Donelson's parlor—she playing the role of First Lady since Rachel Jackson was buried in the garden at The Hermitage. There was the President's sitting room, bedroom, and dressing room. The Yellow Room, located over the north door, was a guest room as well as a ladies' retiring room during the levees. The President's office suite consisted of three rooms on the south side. Since visitors like Christopher Groves had to come upstairs to see the President, glass doors bisected the central hall, separating the office end from the rooms reserved for the family. While the family enjoyed the exclusive use of the grand staircase on the west end, visitors were required to ascend via the back stairs.
    Once upstairs, Giusta escorted Christopher through the "audience room" into Jackson's office. It was here that the Cabinet customarily met,