Tom, Bob and Theresa had dinner that night in the lodge restaurant. They were relaxed and sat talking until nearly 10 o'clock.
"I'd really like to stay here as long as possible," said Winston to Theresa and Adams, "in case any one comes in late tonight. It's possible McKay or Brazleton could arrive tonight."
"Why don't we give them until ten o'clock. If they're not here by then, we should assume they'll come in tomorrow," Tom said. "Theresa, I have to tell you that you must have an anti-aging secret. You don't understand the rules. You're supposed to get older instead of younger looking," Tom kidded Theresa, though in fact what he wanted to say was how beautiful she looked tonight, but decided not to chance a comment like that.
"Thank you, Tom. All compliments are welcome and appreciated," said Theresa, her green eyes glowing with the effect of Tom's comments.
"I'm serious. What is your secret? I'd like to pass it on to Susan. Although, come to think of it, it wouldn't do much good. She's never around anyway," mused Tom. He then realized that he was affirming what his friends knew already, that Tom and his wife were in an awkward period. They shared the governor's house but not a bedroom, and had not for some time.
"You two just aren't going to patch it up, are you, Tom? I really wish you could. The four of us used to have such fun together," Theresa said. Theresa was offering her consolation but she knew Tom and Susan were irreconcilable and had been for years.
"No, it's gone too far. We've agreed to stay together until my term is up, and then take a long look at our marriage," answered Tom.
"That's the price you pay for being a politician, in the public eye. Half the country is divorced, if the statistics are right, but politicians still have to play this charade if their marriage is in trouble," suggested Bob.
"Yeah, look at Ted Kennedy, your colleague. How long he had to pretend that his marriage was Ok when everyone knew it was a joke," said Tom.
"And what do you expect?" asked Theresa. "Ted Kennedy's wife put up with Chappaquidick, among other things. She held on longer than I thought she would."
"Let's get on to something more pleasant than crummy marriages," said Tom. He was smiling and obviously wanted to change the subject to something else. "Theresa, what have you been up to, lately? Bob tells me you're working in Washington with young women who've been physically abused. Does that take a lot of your time? Do you still paint?"
"Yes, yes and no in the order you asked. Well, actually, I do paint a little. I encourage some of the young women to take up painting or some other craft or hobby as an outlet. I got involved two years ago as a volunteer with another senator's wife and with each month I put in a little more time. Bob probably thinks I'm sneaking around on him, I'm away so much."
"Now, honey, I know you wouldn't do that to me. I would never suspect you of that," said Winston with a curious little bit of sarcasm that caused Tom Adams' brows to furrow slightly as he tried to interpret the little signals passing around the table. Tom had known the Winstons since their college days thirty years before, but he also knew that marriages have a way of unlocking secret passages to the heart and mind, often blocking those passages to outsiders.
"You're right. You shouldn't," said Theresa with a tone that suggested that this line of conversation was finished. She said it with a smile but neither Tom nor Bob had the least doubt that they needed to redirect their thoughts.
They waited as long as possible in case any of the others arrived that evening. When none of them did, they all retired to get a good night's sleep. The exercise, good food, conversation and mountain air had them all asleep by midnight.
The next morning, while having their breakfast alone, Tom and Bob looked up from their meal to see George Brazleton and Bill McKay enter the restaurant. Tom motioned for them to come over to join them.
"Bob and Tom, you old sons of guns, how are you?" roared George Brazleton, his voice carrying to every table in the restaurant. He was a stereotypical Texan, brash, friendly, charming and full of energy.
"George, how are you? Bill, how have you been? It's been too long since we had a good poker game," said Bob Winston to Bill McKay. McKay was Governor of Wyoming. Fifty-eight, lean, muscular, he looked like he just stepped out of a Marlboro ad. As their hands clasped in a warm handshake, Winston felt the powerful grip enclosing his own hand. He was not used to that. The handshakes in Washington were timid compared to this. He tightened his own hand to compensate. Bill McKay considered himself a rancher turned governor. His political opponents considered him the most formidable candidate in the last thirty years. He had won the last election by a prohibitive 65 percent majority. He was in his second term, and would probably leave politics when the term was over. He felt that eight years of his life were fair repayment on his debt of gratitude to the people of Wyoming.
After a few moments of light, warm hearted banter centered around kids, grand kids, wives and fishing stories, George Brazleton broke the ice. "Bob, when are you going to tell us why we've been invited up here to the great state of Idaho? There was an air of mystery and intrigue when you called me last week. I don't think this is about fishing and poker, is it?" he asked, directing his question as much to Tom Adams though addressing Winston.
Bill McKay joined the question with one of his own before either Tom or Bob could answer. "Yeah, why are we all here? Pleased as I was to accept an invitation from you, Bob, and also Tom, I sort of get the impression that something's in the air."
"Well, now let me set your minds at ease. After the gun control legislation passed last week, and since the president is sure to sign it, Tom and I got together and thought it would be a good idea to gather some old friends together and just have a good gripe session. We might even be smart enough to come up with some remedies for what ails this tired old country of ours." Bob Winston had the trust of those at the table and both George and Bill accepted his remarks at face value. "Besides, this is as good a time as any to tell all of you that I've decided not to run for Senator again next year."
There was a full fifteen seconds of total silence before George Brazleton broke the silence with, "Well, I'll be damned. I had no idea that you were even contemplating that. What are your plans, Bob?"
Tom Adams was still looking at Bob with a bewildered look on his face. Why, he thought, had Bob not told him that first, before telling the others. Then he decided that it was a very private decision, and it was Bob's business why he chose to do it this way.
"I really don't know yet. Theresa and I just decided last week, the same night the vote on the gun bill went against us. The same night we talked, Tom." He looked at Tom, realizing by the expression on Tom's face that he did take him by surprise. He wished now that he had prepared Tom for the surprise a little more gently. But their friendship would survive, as it had always done. "I just want to get out of Washington, back here to the ranch and spend some time with the folks out here. I want to take my grand kids fishing and teach the little one how to ride. I've got a little pony all picked out for him if his mother will let me buy it for him."
"Bob, you've been one of the most popular men in elective office in Idaho in anyone's memory. I know the folks here are going to be disappointed when they find out." This was Bill McKay offering his thoughts to Winston. Bill knew how Bob Winston felt and he had his sympathy. "Do you want us to keep this on the 'QT' or will you be making an announcement from here?"
"I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't say anything for a while. I think I'll announce it later this summer. There are some good young people out here and it will give them a chance to prepare for the primaries next summer. I may even resign yet this year and let the Governor appoint my replacement. I hate to do that; I'd rather let the people vote on my replacement."
The waiter came over, interrupting the conversation to tell Bob Winston that Governor Browning had called to say that he had arrived at the airport and would be at the lodge in about 30 minutes. It was an easy 20 mile trip from the city to the lodge on a good road. Five minutes
later the waiter reappeared with a message that Sam Brouchet had called and would share a ride with Governor Browning and another gentleman. The play, it would seem, was about to begin. The four men waited for about 25 minutes, talking, drinking coffee. They all went outside to greet the new guests as they arrived. Bob Winston, as the unofficial host, greeted Browning, Jeffries and Brouchet as they got out of the car. Each of them extended hearty handshakes and, depending on the closeness of their acquaintance, slapped each other on the back and poked good natured fun about the size of waistlines and the recession of hairlines. That good natured camaraderie was not extended to the newest guest, Robert Hall Jeffries, Premier of Manitoba. The approach of each of the men to him was rather more formal and reserved. All of the men knew Jeffries through mutual political circles, but he was, after all, a Canadian and the men were not quite sure how to approach him. Robert Jeffries had been Premier of Manitoba for four years. Educated in England, he was from an old line family which had settled in Canada in the early 1800s. Quite wealthy, he approached politics with a sense of family obligation more typical of the British attitude. Nevertheless, the other men soon found him to be a warm, witty, and very genuine person, someone with whom they could identify. To the men there, Manitoba was merely an extension of the great western plain extending from northwest Canada all the way to Mexico. They chose to deal with him on that basis, rather than one of national origin.
"Mister Premier, let me extend my warmest greetings to you on behalf of the gentlemen present," said Bob Winston, affecting a little of the senatorial demeanor.
"Gentlemen, thank you for the invitation and the greeting. But first, I must insist upon your calling me Bob or Robert. I am not here as Premier of Manitoba, merely as one who likes to do a little trout fishing. Hal Browning and I talked last week, and I must confess that I was sufficiently intrigued to invite myself along. I hope that I might be able to contribute something of substance to your discussions." Robert Hall Jeffries was clearly a bit stuffy with those remarks, and for the most part the other gentlemen did not believe for a minute that he was there to go fishing. "Gentlemen, why don't we move over to my cabin and see if Theresa can scare up some decent coffee or a drink," said Bob Winston, extending an arm to point the way to the row of cabins situated about a hundred yards from the main lodge. "Mine is the second one on the left." The men formed two rows, talking idly to their walkmate as they moved slowly toward the cabin.
The cabins adjoining the lodge were somewhat spartan, as would befit accommodations designed for fishermen and vacationing golfers. Though small, the cabins were basically adequate. They each contained one small bedroom, a bath, a living room with a large fireplace, and a tiny kitchenette. The living room was just large enough to accommodate the seven men and Theresa.
Theresa greeted the men as they walked up the five steps to the front porch, saying exactly the right thing to each of them, according to how well she knew them. She had never met Robert Jeffries, but she knew his wife was named Elizabeth and that he had three children. Jeffries was absolutely charmed by her attention to those facts and was equally charmed by Theresa's smile and good looks. "Mister Premier, I am so sorry your wife Elizabeth could not come with you. How are your children? All three well, I trust?" she said to the Canadian.
"How charming of you to ask about Liz," remarked Jeffries, looking intently into Theresa's green eyes. "And so good of you to ask about the children. They are all well. The oldest is now at university in Waterloo."
"I've some coffee made, Bob," said Theresa. "Why don't you gentlemen help yourself. There's cream and sugar, and diet sweetener too. There are beers in the refrigerator, there's whiskey, scotch and vodka in the cabinet. Plenty of ice in the cooler. If you need anything else, I'll be in the bedroom reading for a while." She offered this as a way to make a graceful exit, but inwardly she was dying to be asked to stay and find out what this gathering of eagles was all about. Tom Adams extended the first invitation for her to stay, hoping that would break the ice. The other gentlemen followed suit.
"Theresa, we won't have any secrets here," said Bill McKay. "We'd all like you to stay. Your opinion is as good as anyone's in this room."
"Absolutely, Theresa. Don't you dare leave just yet."
"We're gonna need some one to make more coffee."
"Theresa, stick around. Someone needs to keep Sam from cussing so much."
Everyone found a chair, a place on the couch, near the fireplace or just stood, waiting for the discussions to start. Bob Winston began. "Fellahs, last week Tom Adams and I had a little talk over a glass of whiskey in the Senate Lounge. It followed what was for me the most devastating loss in my political career, the passage of the Gun Control Act. I lobbied very hard for its defeat, but I was afraid from the outset that my efforts were doomed. Tom Adams worked even harder than I did for its defeat, and I can speak for him when I say that he was equally crushed. When we talked last week, it wasn't really about the enactment of that legislation, though that played a big part in it. What we were talking about was the fact that conditions exist now in the country to allow something like this to happen. The same conditions permitted the passage of the Hawkins Mining Reform Act."
Bob could see out of the corner of his eye that Sam Brouchet raised up from his chair at the very mention of the Act. Winston continued. "The two together in all fairness don't mean the end of the world. But what Tom and I agreed on is that there seems to be no end to this. In fact, and Tom correct me if I misquote you, we don't believe there is any solution that will come out of Washington in our lifetime. We pretty much agree that Washington is bankrupt, morally, financially and in any other way that you can measure success. I've already told some of you of my decision to retire from the Senate at the end of this term. Now all of you present know, and again I ask that you not mention it until I've made a formal announcement." The men were listening intently to every word that Bob Winston uttered. Each of the newest guests expressed their genuine shock that Bob Winston was leaving the Senate. Tom Adams now interrupted Winston to continue.
"You know Bob Winston as a man who has worked tirelessly for honesty and integrity in government while in Washington. I only hope I'm half as successful at the state level as Bob has been in Washington. If Bob's ready to throw in the towel, what does that say about the situation and any hope for a change? I told Bob about hearing gunfire within earshot of my hotel in Washington. He says that it's a commonplace occurrence there, that it's drug lords having a territory dispute. Hell, we quit doing that out here in the west around the turn of the century."
Everyone chuckled softly at that last remark. It reflected the disgust that most westerners had of the drug situation and the stereotype that people from the east had of the west. Many still thought people in the west carried holstered revolvers and had gunfights in the streets. "Bob and I talked about the separation of the west from the east, about how isolated we feel, about how there seem to be two countries, one east of the Mississippi River, one west of it."
Tom Adams continued, feeling more energized and right about what he was saying than at any time in his political career. "Right now we have a situation in which liberal factions and financial power centers in the east are telling us how we must live our lives, how we establish and maintain our institutions, what we can teach our kids, whom we can hire to fill jobs. We're no longer are in control of our destiny. It's being controlled by bankers and industrialists in eastern states. The western states are being taxed so we can feed and provide medical treatment for Blacks and Cuban refugees in the cities of the east. I have no prejudice against Blacks or those of Hispanic heritage, but I'm sick of seeing billions of dollars being spent on welfare and medical treatment for groups of people that do not now and never will contribute anything to the society we live in. It's not about racial differences. It's about pouring money down a rathole with absolutely no end in sight for it."
Sam Brouchet waited for Tom Adams to pause, then rose from
his chair
to speak his mind. "Last month when the Congress passed the Hawkins Reform Act, I knew right then and there that a way of life that I assumed would go on forever had ended. Mining has been a way of life for those in the west since the west was settled in the early 1800's. You all know that the west provides most of the minerals for the entire country, gold, silver, copper, uranium. Sure, many of those minerals are becoming depleted or can't meet the demand of industry. Sure, we import more and more minerals from overseas. But the west still has the largest array of mineral deposits in the world. The people out east just take it for granted that when they need a copper electrical fitting or copper water pipes, that it will always be there in the hardware store or electrical store. They don't have the vaguest idea where it comes from or what it takes to produce. Now those same people have decided that we shouldn't have the right to acquire land at the price level that was established years ago. But do they understand the amount of money it takes to run a mining operation? Do they understand what it costs to comply with all the new laws protecting workers' safety or unemployment funds and so forth? Hell no, they don't. Not one of those bastards ever came out here and talked to any of us. And when we went out there to talk to them, they were too busy to fit us in their schedule."
Suddenly Sam stopped talking and looked at Theresa Winston. "I'm sorry Theresa. I promised not to cuss so much," said Sam in deference to Theresa. She smiled and winked at Sam.
Sam's voice had risen with each new point made. His face
had reddened and the veins protruded from his temple and neck. Having made his points, Sam plopped down in his seat to allow someone else to speak.
Bill McKay spoke next. He had sat throughout the previous speakers very pensive and listening intently. "In a little over a year, my term as Governor will end and I will leave politics. I feel, as Bob does, that I need to get back to the ranch and find out if I can still enjoy roundups and tending to cattle. I hope to God it's still as enjoyable as I once remembered it. I don't know if I've been a good governor or not. Folks in Wyoming seem to think I've been doing a pretty good job. But I feel like I've been a fraud, I feel like I've cheated the very people that voted for me."
The Second Declaration Page 3