Free The Americans by John Jakes Page A

the Congress for waiting for a tragedy before passing needed legislation. He headed the editorial Must Someone Always Die? He feared he knew the answer to the question. Congress seldom acted swiftly or decisively until jolted by some disaster. On a scrap of paper he scribbled a reminder about another editorial he ought to compose soon. Something had to be done to set up better machinery for presidential succession. The Constitution was vague on the procedure, and while Garfield lay dying with a bullet in him, the country had in effect been leaderless for three months. A small clock showed Gideon the hour. Almost eleven. He hadn't heard Carter come in yet. No wonder the young man was failing most of his courses. A frown on his face, Gideon climbed the stairs to the second floor, passed the door to his wife's sitting room and looked in on Will, who was under the sheet devouring a paper-covered ten cent novel about Bill Cody. "Time to put out the light," Gideon said. His voice still bore traces of the soft, rhythmic speech of his native Virginia. Will yawned. He was a stocky boy of fourteen with I brown eyes, brown hair, and features that favored his late I- mother. When he lost the adolescent fat still showing in his cheeks, he'd be good looking-though never as handsome as Carter, of course. "All right, Papa." "Did you finish your school work before you turned to great literature?" Gideon asked with a smile. "Yes, sir. Barely. The math gets me down. I can't do it." "Of course you can! A person can do anything if he puts his mind to it." Will looked doubtful. Gideon was sorry he'd snapped. "Did you ride today?" "For an hour. The mare almost threw me, though." "Ask them to rent you a different horse next time." "All right." From the boy's expression, Gideon knew he probably wouldn't have the nerve to make the request. "You have the makings of a fine horseman, W. Maybe you'd like to learn to drive four-in-hand." Will's face lit up. "Yes, sir, I surely would." Hesitancy then. "At least, I'd like to try to learn it-was Gideon pretended he hadn't heard the last sentence. "Good. We'll do something about that. Coaching's a coming sport." "That's what Carter said a few days ago." Gideon scowled. No statement was ever true unless it bore Carter's imprimatur. "Is Carter back yet?" Will asked. In spite of Gideon's good intentions, the scowl deepened. "No. Why?" "I need to ask him a question." "What about?" "Oh, just something." "Could I answer it?" I'd rather ach"k him. It's something to do with fellows our I I I age." His "And a graybeard like me wouldn't understand?" Will smiled back. "Your beard isn't gray. Well, not very." "What about your question?" Again the boy's eyes shifted elsewhere. "It can wait until I see Carter." "AH right. Good night." Gideon leaned down and squeezed his son's arm. The boy had grown self-conscious about being kissed by his parents. As Gideon left the bedroom, he tried not to be annoyed by Will's blind affection for his stepbrother. Perhaps Will owed that to Carter. After all, it was Carter who had moved in with the Kents after Margaret's death and given Will the comradeship the younger boy so desperately needed. Carter had done what no adult could. By serving as a brother and surrogate father combined, he'd restored a little of the zest for living which Margaret's crazed behavior had driven out of her son. But it was disturbing to Gideon that Will had become dependent on Carter for the answer to virtually every question. He ought to discuss the situation with Julia, and soon. Will's lack of confidence was a problem already beyond solution, Gideon feared. It was also a mystery he suspected he'd never solve; Will absolutely refused to discuss it. What on God's earth had caused the boy to think so poorly of himself? CHAPTER VI Midnight Visitor THE ANSWER TO GIDEON'S question lay hidden in the past. Not all of Margaret Kent's cruelties and deceptions had died with her, on that July night in 1877 when the mansion