The Titans by John Jakes Page A

in Montgomery. Jephtha had been in the Senate gallery in January when Jefferson Davis had submitted his resignation during a sad, moving speech prompted by Mississippi's following South Carolina out of the Union. The Senator had long held out against secession and its inherent promise of violence. But circumstances and principle had finally forced him to a reluctant decision. While he bid his Senatorial colleagues farewell, many of them wept. Nicolay left Jephtha beside another blue-clad sentry, Lincoln's sole protector. The secretary knocked and disappeared behind the rosewood door. In less than a minute, he returned. "You may go in for a few minutes. He's almost finished with his other visitor." "Who is it?" Nicolay smiled. "The only person in Washington who can come into the office whenever he wants." 648An Oath Registered in Heaven" "Ah," Jephtha said, understanding. The secretary started to push the door open, apologetic: "As I suspected, the President won't give you any specific answers about government policy or our response to the developments at Sumter." Understandable, Jephtha thought as he thanked Nicolay and stepped inside, struck again by a feeling of pessimism. Who except perhaps the abolitionists and the Southern fire-eaters had ever expected it would come to this? A country less than a hundred years old at war with itself-his He doubted Mr. Lincoln-or anyone else in the nation comreally knew how to find answers for the problems posed by the unprecedented calamity. A great deal of sport had been made of Abraham Lincoln's peculiar physique: his great height-six feet four inches-coupled with his lankiness; his stooping posture; his huge hands and feet and ears. This morning the President looked even more like a great skinny ogre-though a genial one-hunched as he was in a fragile chair in front of the small desk by the windows. Southeast through those windows the iron base of the uncompleted dome of the Capitol caught the leaden glare of sun trying to break through clouds. A tram whistle shrieked twice. The Baltimore and Ohio from the North- Another train occupied Lincoln's attention. Of wood, and gaudily painted, the toy had evidently developed some problem with one of its yellow driver wheels. The President was trying to repair the difficulty by pressuring the end of an axle nail with his thumb. Standing next to him and shifting from foot to foot The Titans65 was the visitor whose identity Jephtha had already guessed. Lincoln's son Thomas, who was eight or so. He and his eleven-year-old brother Willie lived at the mansion. Lincoln's eldest son, Robert, was away, doing university work. Satisfied, Lincoln put the locomotive on the desk. He ran it back and forth a few inches. "There, Tadpole. I reckon she's ready to go to Chicago now." His eyes showed affection as he handed the toy to his grinning son. "Thank you, Papa dear," Tad exclaimed, hugging his father around the neck. Because of the boy's cleft palate, the words Papa dear had a thick, distorted sound- more like puppy day. It was Tad's affliction, Jephtha had heard Nicolay comment, that made Lincoln love the boy with a special intensity. Clutching the repaired locomotive, Tad bounded for the door. "Hello, sir. See my engine? Papa fixed it!" "Looks like a good job, too," Jephtha smiled. "You're a lucky young fellow-it's not every boy who can persuade the President of the United States to repair his train." The hall door closed. Lincoln chuckled. He removed his spectacles and stood up-a movement resembling that of an ungainly water bird rising on long legs. "Mr. Kent, good morning to you." Lincoln extended his immense hand and enfolded Jephtha's fingers. "Sorry you were delayed by the breakdown on Tad's railroad. I also regret we're together on such an unfortunate day." Despite the words, Lincoln's wide, somewhat slack mouth curled at the corners in that country grin Jephtha found so likable. Lincoln dressed like an undertaker- all in black-much as Jephtha did.