He received a unanimous affirmative vote to break for dinner. The men filed out of the cabin and walked slowly toward the restaurant. At dinner the group talked fondly of Bob Winston, of how much they missed him, how they needed his reassuring hand to help them through the next few months.
"I don't think I realized how much I miss Bob until today. I always took him for granted, his coolness under pressure," said Tom. "We all miss him, Tom. But I think his death was for a purpose. It's always easier for popular movements when there is a martyr whose shoulders people can stand on," said Hal.
"Tom, how is Theresa doing?" asked Sam. "You saw her most recently, didn't you?"
"Yes, and I talked to her on the phone just before coming up here. She's still very depressed. It's going to take time to bring her back to normal."
"Is it just a deep depression?" asked George.
"Well, it seems to be more than that. It's like her life is finished too. It's hard to explain."
"Do you think it would help if I flew up to see her, Tom," asked Sam.
"She always liked you, Sam. I think it would help a great deal. I think she just wants to feel that she hasn't been cut off from her and Bob's old friends."
"I'll go up and see her after leaving here."
"Hal, how long will it take you to draft up that position paper?" asked Bill McKay.
"Not long. I'll work on it tomorrow as soon as I get back."
"Great, the sooner that hits the news media, the sooner people can start thinking about this whole undertaking. We're going to need a lot of public support this time."
The men returned to the cabin around nine pm and resumed their planning. "I've been thinking for the past few days about which states are most likely to form the core of the breakaway, the ones most likely to do so in the first few weeks. What are your ideas, gentlemen?" asked Tom Adams.
"Well, I'm hoping we can count on Colorado, Tom, and I believe Wyoming and Alaska will be among the first to do so," suggested Bill McKay.
"I've already indicated that Texas will hesitate at first, then come around toward the end. But I believe Oklahoma will be among the first," said George Brazleton.
"As for the Canadian provinces, I know Manitoba is ready to move quickly, as are Alberta and Saskatchewan. BC will watch the wind for a few weeks, to see what direction it is blowing," offered Robert Jeffries.
"Nevada will be among the first, Tom," said Sam.
"Oregon will hesitate at first, but will watch Washington state. If Washington receives the capital as an inducement to join quickly, then Oregon will follow," theorized Hal Browning.
"The Dakotas will join as quickly as they can. They want something to happen quickly," mused Bill McKay.
"So potentially, we could have a group of as many as seven to nine states plus three provinces in the first month. Is that what we're saying?" asked Tom
"Certainly," said Browning. "The Dakotas, Wyoming, Colorado, Montana, Idaho, Oklahoma and Nevada with the three central provinces from Canada, and I think Alaska. A pretty fair sized country, wouldn't you say?"
"Something I have been mulling around in my mind for a few days is whether or not we should make a formal declaration of separation. We talked about it before," said Tom. "What are your ideas?" Tom was no longer exerting his opinions on the group. As the formally selected chairman, he felt it was his responsibility to solicit all the advice and counsel from the others that he could get. He had a strong opinion about such a declaration but wanted to hear what the others felt.
"I don't see how we can avoid doing something along those lines," suggested Browning. "It places us in a position where there is a finality to it. We have to begin thinking about how other countries are going to react to this separation. We will have to win support from some of the foreign countries if we are to survive. With a formal statement of separation, foreign countries will have a place to launch their support, if they will support us."
"I think Hal is right," said Jeffries. "Think of your own country. The Declaration of Independence was an original idea by those founders. It was designed to announce their intention to the European countries, as much as anything, especially to the French who, it was hoped, would support their cause."
"Are we in agreement on that? Anybody opposed to it?" asked Tom. There was no disagreement from the group.
"Fine, now do we have any volunteers to write such a document? I don't think that it is something the committee in Denver should write, do you, Sam?" asked Tom deferentially to Sam, who was footing the bill for the operation of the permanent committee headquarters in Denver.
"No, it is far too important a document to be written by researchers and political interns. I believe Robert Jeffries and Hal Browning should co author it. They are the two people here with the best defined sense of history and political insight. How about that, Hal, I just gave you another writing assignment," Sam kidded Hal and laughed that deep roaring laughter that was his trademark. "Honestly, I think it should be a joint Canadian American effort."
"Robert, will you join me in drafting such a document?" asked Hal of Jeffries.
"I would consider it a high honor, sir, if you promise not to correct my sentence structure." said Robert Jeffries with that indirect humor that he was famous for. He and Hal Browning had been friends for many years and had the greatest respect for the other's abilities. Hal reckoned that he would not correct his spelling or grammar, while smiling all the while.
"Well gentlemen, I can think of nothing at the moment that we need to do except perhaps go back to the lodge and have a nightcap. I trust that you all agree that we need to coordinate everything through the committee staff in Denver. I think they should begin to be the control center for all our activities. I don't want to keep Mitch in the dark about what we're doing, at any time. Sam, tell Mitch he's about to start earning his pay," concluded Tom.
Chapter VIII
Theresa Copes
Sam signalled to his pilot to come over to the plane. Sam had walked there when he had gotten out of the car that brought him from the Lodge. "There's a little change of plan," Sam said to his pilot. "I want to fly up to the Winston ranch in Idaho and see Theresa for a day or two. Why don't you file a flight plan and gas up. I'm gonna call Ruth and tell her not to expect me until day after tomorrow. But I better call Theresa before you do any of that. Hell, she may not be ready to put up with me yet." He was giving Theresa the benefit of the doubt; Robert had just died and she had endured the funeral just a few days before. Sam had a momentary bout of cold feet then recovered and called Theresa.
"Sam, how good to hear from you. Where are you?", Theresa exclaimed.
"Not all that far away," said Sam. "Some of us just met at the Lodge and I thought I might fly over and see you for a day. I'd understand if you didn't want to put up with me just yet, Theresa."
"Oh, don't be silly, Sam. Get your butt over here. You're always welcome. You know that. When will you arrive?"
"Umm, it's only about a thirty minute flight and I need about a half-hour to drive from the airport to your place. I imagine about an hour and a half or so. Just in time for supper, I hope. Can you put up my pilot in the guest house, Theresa, or should I have him stay in town?"
"Maybe you better have him stay in town, Sam. I'm still cleaning up after company." Theresa was not being entirely honest about that, but she did not want a stranger on the premises just now. She could handle Sam; a stranger would require consideration she was not ready to extend.
"Will do. See you in a little while, Theresa. Now you're sure it's Ok?" asked Sam one more time. He did not like imposing on people, one of his attributes that made him seem a bit more civilized.
"Get over here, Sam. It'll be a delight to see you." That ended the doubts that Sam had about imposing on her.
The flight to the small town near the Winston ranch took only thirty-five minutes. The drive from the airport to the ranch afforded Sam some time to relax and enjoy the scenery. He always had enjoyed the scenery in
this part of Idaho. He liked the rich green valleys nestled among the mountains. So much freedom in this land, horses grazing in fields, an occasional deer, elk or caribou darting across the landscape. Just then he looked to his left and saw a magnificent bald eagle flying overhead. He stopped the car and got out to watch it as it disappeared over the hill nearest the car. "My God, what freedom. To be able to fly like that," thought Sam. As he turned to get back in the car he spied some syringa, mock orange flowers nestled near some rocks halfway up the roadside cut. He quickly climbed the ten feet up the slope and picked some for Theresa. He was feeling relaxed and in good spirits. He hoped that he could lift Theresa's spirits with his own.
He drove straight up the winding access road to the ranch, pulled in the large gravel covered parking area and pulled his suitcase out of the back seat. As he did, he looked over his shoulder and saw Theresa standing near the front porch, waving her arm to let Sam know she saw him. He waved back and began the two hundred feet walk to the house. Theresa came down the path to meet him halfway.
"Hi, Sam. It's good to see you, ya' big gorilla," said Theresa fondly. She had always liked Sam, though they had absolutely nothing in common, shared almost nothing except their acquaintance with her late husband. But Sam had always liked Theresa, as the sister he never had, the one feminine person in his life that he simply enjoyed for the sake of her femininity, not because of any sexual charm he detected. Their mutual admiration seemed to defy definition and mystified people who knew them both, but the two of them had never analyzed it. They simply enjoyed it.
"Hi, sis'," said Sam, a word he often used in addressing Theresa, revealing perhaps some clue of his fondness for her.
"Are you doin' Ok? Anything you need or that I can do? Here, I brought you some fresh flowers. I found them along the road coming over."
"Oh, thank you, Sam. That's sweet of you. They're beautiful, mock orange. I'm Ok, Sam. It's just gonna take some time, you know." Theresa was lying; she was not fine and Sam knew it. He could see the dark rings under her eyes from lack of sleep, the listless look in her eyes, but then that was the reason for his trip to see her. Theresa asked, "How long can you stay? A couple days? You're welcome to stay a week if you like. I don't know if I could find enough to occupy you that long, but you're welcome to stay." They were walking back to the house and Sam had put his huge arm around Theresa's shoulder, gently holding her close to his side. She was a full head shorter than Sam and he had to slow his normally fast pace to allow her to stay with him.
"Only 'til tomorrow," said Sam. "I've got a mountain of work to do and, you'll be pleased to know, we're gonna have another go at separation again. That's why we met over at the Lodge. As soon as I get back to Denver, Mitch, Tom and I will jump-start the committee and start all over with our efforts."
Theresa was looking at Sam now; they had both stopped walking as Sam began to explain his presence in Idaho. Theresa had a strange look in her eye which escaped Sam completely, but Sam's words brought back memories of Bob, painful memories.
"That's what killed Bob, Sam. The efforts to break away. Are you guys sure you want to try this again?" she asked painfully, as though to caution Sam that their lives could be in danger.
Sam now realized that he had brought up a painful subject and decided he needed to back off for a moment. "We'll be careful, Theresa. Right now Washington has its hands full, We're gonna take advantage of the situation out there."
"Isn't it awful, Sam? The riots, the destruction. My God, what has it all come to?" Theresa was crying now and Sam held her again while she cried herself out. The violence in the nation's capital had taken her husband so short a time ago.
Later, after she had composed herself, she smiled at Sam and said, "Sam, you know what I'm goin' to do?"
"No, what?" Sam thought she might be ready to announce her plans for the future, a move to her daughter's home city perhaps.
"I'm going to bake you some pork chops and make a pie. I haven't done that for what seems like forever. It'll be good for both of us. You always liked baked pork chops," she declared with a little nod of her head to emphasize what a good idea it was.
"Hey, you don't have to go to any trouble, Theresa. We can go into town and eat, if you like." Actually he silently agreed that it was the best idea anyone had presented in several months, and he liked the verve that she had shown in announcing it.
"I've eaten enough restaurant food for two lifetimes, Sam. I'm gonna cook and eat until I get fat," she said defiantly.
"Sis', I can't imagine you getting fat," said Sam as a compliment to someone who seemingly could not gain weight, making her the envy of every woman she knew.
Sam helped Theresa in the kitchen so he could talk with her, probing her emotions to sense how she was coping. Her company had all left, her daughter, her son, the neighbors, leaving Theresa to endure the solitude and compose herself. Such it is with death. There finally comes the time when, after the burial, the company, the words of solace, the hugs and kisses, there is solitude, gnawing, relentless solitude. Different people react to it in different ways. Sam was attempting to elicit Theresa's mode of coping.
"Theresa, I could set the table for you. That's something I can do without tearing anything up." Sam was being self-deprecating though actually he was a fair cook in his own right, another attribute which amazed people who did not know him. He had learned to cook out of necessity, after enduring fifteen years of bachelorhood since his divorce.
"All right, Sam. You know where the dishes are?" Then Theresa remembered that she had not made a salad. "Sam, why don't you go out in the garden and pick some salad vegetables instead and I'll set the table. I realize we don't have a salad."
"I think I remember how to pick some leaf lettuce and radishes. Are they all up yet?"
"Yes, they are," she said proudly. "Look for a basket near the back door."
Sam left the kitchen and was back in a few minutes with a basket containing lettuce, radishes and a few small onions. He washed the vegetables in the sink while Theresa found salad bowls to put the salad in.
"Thanks for the help. Are you about ready to eat, Sam?"
"Yes, ma'am. I am hungry. Seems like I haven't eaten since---well, since noon." He was smiling, trying to keep a jovial mood in her presence.
They did not talk much as they eat. Sam looked at Theresa and smiled and she returned the smile. Sam occasionally complimented her cooking, which certainly was not an effort; Theresa was a very good cook, though somewhat out of practice. The food was western and simple, savory and large in serving. The apple pie was made from fresh apples off her own trees in the garden. As they finished, Theresa poured fresh coffee and she cleared the table. It was then that Sam decided to make his move.
"Theresa, I know a very good doctor down in Denver and if you say the word, I'll fly you down and you can see him. You could stay with me or in a near-by hotel, near his office."
"A doctor, what kind of a doctor?" asked Theresa, a little puzzled by Sam's suggestion. Then, even before he answered, she knew.
"Well, actually, he's a therapist, a 'shrink', oh damn it, a psychiatrist," answered Sam. "Theresa, please don't be offended. He's a very good doctor and he helped me once, helped me to get out of a deep hole."
"You, Sam?" Theresa was genuinely surprised at Sam's admission. She, like everyone who knew him, assumed Sam was the absolute pillar of sanity and self-composure. She wanted, but declined, to ask him why. Sam supplied the answer for her.
"About ten years ago--- damn, has it been that long? I needed help, Theresa. I had been carrying around some baggage for a long time and I had to unload it. I had met this doctor at a poker game and kinda' liked him. He didn't seem much like a 'shrink' to me, but I saw him at the game for about three months and I called him one day and made an appointment. At first it was hard as hell to tell him why I was there, as though it's easy for anyone, but he understood that. Any way, see, I had a little brother once and he died in an accident. It was my fault and I
didn't think my dad ever forgave me for it. My dad died, you know, when I was in my twenties. He and I never did talk about it."
"I always blamed myself, though actually it wasn't my fault. The doctor finally figured it out. Actually I figured it out with his help. You know, they always make you come up with the answer. What I finally figured out was that I never did like my dad very much and my brother's death was not the real issue. I always thought if my brother had lived, that somehow my dad and I would have got along better. I know now that it isn't that simple. I never did figure out why my dad and I didn't get along, but what the doctor showed me was how to get past the issue and just go on with your life. You cannot change the past, ever. What has happened has happened. It's over." Tears were showing in Sam's eyes as he finished, just the barest trace of moistness. Theresa smiled at him and took his hand in hers.
"Sam, I had no idea that had happened to you. And you're telling me now to help me, aren't you?" she asked, squeezing his hand.
"Yes, sis', I am. I've never told anyone about it. You're the first I've ever told. I know what you're going through right now. I've been there myself. I know what depression is and what it can do to you. Sometimes in life you just have to face up to the fact that what hurts you isn't the thorn in your foot. It's something else. It could be your shoe."
"Thanks, Sam. I appreciate your concern more than you know. Maybe I will see this doctor of yours. If he could help you, he might be able to help me. Sam, how did your brother die? I mean, why did you blame yourself?"
"He died of a gunshot wound, a damn pistol that Dad always kept in the house. He and I were playing with it and it went off when my brother grabbed it from me. One shot right through his chest. He was dead in a minute. God damn guns!" said Sam vehemently. "I hate the damn things!"
"So actually you supported the Gun Bill, didn't you, Sam? I had no idea. Did you ever tell Bob or Tom? Well, no I don't suppose you did," said Theresa, answering her own question.
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