Heaven and Hell

EPILOGUE: THE PLAIN 1883

In front of the stone barracks, the two met for the first time. The shorter boy, the blunt-featured one, had arrived on the morning steamer; the other, not until afternoon.

The taller boy was eighteen, a year older. He had a small diagonal scar on his right cheek. The scar and his long dark hair and strong facial bones gave him the look of an Indian. He was a gentle boy no bully ever bothered.

He spoke first. "Gus Main. Texas."

The boy with the strong chin and softer cheeks shyly extended his hand. "G. W. Hazard. Los Angeles."

"I remember you from Philadelphia."

"I remember you," G. W. said. "We ate a lot of popcorn together. We watched that eagle for hours."

"Yes, what was his name?"

"Wait a minute. Abe. Old Abe."

Gus grinned. "That's right. Do all you Yankees have a fantastic memory?"

"I'm not a Yankee, I'm a Californian."

An upperclassman marched out of the barracks and began to yell at them.

Across the Plain, on the veranda of the post hotel, the two old friends sat side by side in rockers, listening to the shouts in the June twilight. "Hats off whenever you address a superior, sir. Until you pass the entrance examination you are a disgusting object, sir. Putrefied matter, sir. Scum!"

Colonel Charles Main of the 1,500,000-acre Main Chance Ranch lit a cigar. William Hazard; president of Sundown Sea Realty Company and Diamond Acres Estates, rested his laced hands on his paunch.

"I enjoyed Willa's performance last night."

"She's glad to get back at it for a few months."

"Mr. Booth's a personable fellow. Talented, too. It was a great treat to have supper with him. I tell you, though, I couldn't expose my legs in black tights to six hundred strangers."

Charles shrugged. "He's an actor. He couldn't build a pontoon bridge over a flooded creek at night under sniper fire."

At the far edge of the Plain, members of the new United States Military Academy class stumbled into a semblance of a formation while upperclassmen continued to shout and scream. "You are lower than a plebe, sir! You, sir, are a thing, sir!"

Billy's round spectacles reflected the sunset. "I do feel guilty about coming up here with G. W. You and I act like a couple of doting mamas. My boy resented it."

"So did mine. Never mind, we're old grads. We're entitled to come back. I wanted to see the place."

"How do you feel about it?"

"Not sure," Charles said. He turned his chair so he could watch the great flag float in the evening breeze. Somewhere on the Hudson, a steamer whistled. "I think this place did some unexpected things to me. It made me into a soldier when I probably wasn't cut out for it."

"You were a good one, though."

Charles didn't comment. "About this place — I feel sort of fond of it now that I'm no longer part of it."

"Except through your boy."

"Well, yes. I had some doubts about letting him enroll. It's a fine education, that's what persuaded me. He can resign after he serves his hitch."

"Certainly. There won't be any more wars to fight."

"That's what everyone says."

"Don't you wonder what will happen to our two boys, Bison?"

"Sure. But I think I know. What will happen to them are the same things that happened to Orry and George. The same things that happened to us. Things we never expected. Things we couldn't have imagined if we tried for a week. Those are the things that always happen to people. Along with ordinary things."

"Like getting old." Billy rose, yawned. "I get so blasted tired anymore. Ready for supper?"

"Any time you are, Bunk."

Billy watched the ragged formation marching away to evening mess. "I'm proud I was here," he said, hooking his thumbs in the pockets of his gold brocade vest. "I'm glad my brother and your cousin met here. Without that, I wouldn't have Brett or my family. George wouldn't have Madeline. I wouldn't have my best friend."

So many births, Charles thought. So many deaths. So important. So inconsequential.

"Yes, I'm glad they met," he said. "I'd like to have seen them that day in 1842. I'll bet they were a pair. The ironmaster's boy and the rice planter's boy. Oh, I'd like to have seen that."

The West Point sunset gun boomed. The two friends went in to supper.