Free Preserve and Protect by Allen Drury Page B

to himself now, he had tacitly if not openly condoned—the appearance of the black-uniformed bullyboys produced by COMFORT, DEFY and KEEP, those strange ideological bedfellows, culminating in the attack on Crystal Danta Knox which was probably, he could see now, the decisive turning point of the convention and the beginning of the end of his own chances—followed by his humiliating defeat for the Presidential nomination—the President’s crushing denial of his right to the Vice Presidential nomination—his own deep despair and the dreadful dazed, helpless, almost comatose condition in which he had submitted to Fred Van Ackerman’s bullying and agreed to appear at the third party meeting. He had been as near nadir as he had ever come in all his life, probably as near as any Jason had ever come in all the long years since the family first began its climb to fortune in Spanish California. He literally did not know what would have become of him had the President not been killed.
    He drew a sudden long, shivering breath. How awful the prospects had been for the golden hero of the Golden State; how miraculous his salvation. Surely there must be a purpose in it somewhere!
    As quickly as it came, the mood passed. Governor Jason was not one to brood overlong on might-have-beens. If there was purpose, it was up to him to implement it. By some strange kindness or irony, the Lord had given him another chance. This time he would not destroy it but would see it through with vigor, integrity and all the determination of a clever mind, to which family character and great wealth had long ago given the habit of decisive command. Three days after his descent into the abyss of abandoned hope, he was on the way back; and with only a very little extra luck, he would not only regain his former position but go on from it to the goal he had been within sight of when the convention roared out of his control.
    “In January,” he said with a quiet certainty to the silent office, “Edward Montoya Jason will be President of the United States.”
    As if in response, the telephone rang; and lifting it to listen while the switchboard carried out his instructions to take the message but deflect the caller, he heard a voice he had not expected to hear unless he initiated the call. He felt a sudden surge of happiness. That she had called first seemed somehow to put the seal on all his certainties.
    “I’ll take this, Operator,” he broke in; and then, his voice, despite his best efforts, trembling a little, “Good morning. Where are you?”
    “I’m still at the ranch,” Ceil said. “Have you been home?”
    “No,” he said. “I just came up from San Francisco this morning. I came directly here.”
    “Have you had breakfast?”
    “A little.”
    “Well, you ought to have a good one. These are challenging times.”
    “Yes, I know,” he said, absurdly relieved that she should use her usual bantering tone. “I’m not being too active at the moment, though: just sitting here thinking.”
    “Is anyone with you?”
    “No,” he said; and ventured, “Not even my wife.”
    “Whose fault is that?”
    “I don’t know,” he said, trying to keep it light though his voice trembled a little again. “I came back to the Mark and found a note that you had gone to ‘Vistazo.’ I didn’t think I had kicked you out.”
    “I suppose it was a little abrupt,” she conceded. “But I suddenly had just had it.”
    “I thought I had too,” he said quietly.
    “It wasn’t very obvious at the time,” she said thoughtfully. “You didn’t give that impression.”
    “I have some pride, after all.”
    “Yes, I know.…What are you doing now?”
    “Just thinking.”
    “The Capitol on Sunday’s a good place for it, I guess. I saw your statement, of course.”
    “Did you like it?”
    “I thought it was very good from your standpoint.”
    “That isn’t what I asked,” he said, attempting jocularity.
    “Well, I don’t know how else to state