Leo had been less interested in the history of the Greencorn Rebellion than he had been in staying on his mount. When he dismounted, he experienced new pains in his back and both legs. Unsteadily, he followed Otharine Jones inside Greeley’s Restaurant.
As they settled into a booth, he was surprised to realize that he was less tired than hungry. Both of them wolfed down eggs, sausage, biscuits and, entirely new for Leo's city diet, heavy cream gravy. Then he concentrated on fighting off sleepiness while Otharine Jones attempted a serious parley.
"All of us want the same things," she began.
Torres kept his comments inside his head. Heard it all before.
"We want this area quiet and pulling its share of the weight in this revolution. We have some advantages over other areas. There's not as much crap in the air and water; we still have healthy babies being born for the most part. The temperature isn't much more unbearable than it always was. We could be producing more food, but we produce a lot now.
'But, let's face it, most of the population isn't on the program.”
Who is?
“For most of the people around here, the main thing they want to know is just when are things going to get back to normal. I keep telling them never, and that normal wasn't that great, and that the future will be ten times, a hundred times, better. But people around here are lazy in their thinking..."
Leo decided to save time by cutting off this all-too-common complaint. Aloud, he said, "As far as I know, everyone has that problem."
"Good to know," she responded, "I mean it's not good but at least it's equal. Let me go on to some of the specific stuff. You already know, from last night, that the old power structure doesn't really consider itself broken. Or at least not until this morning, and maybe even now. There is also the Seminole Nation. They tell people that the old power is gone and that they, since they have longevity over everybody, are the real authorities now. They claim that authority from before the Seminole Wars, partly because they were never actually defeated by the United States Army. They don't base their claim on
being able to do anything today or on having supported the new order, just on
longevity. Seniority. And they certainly don't base their claim on having any kinds of skills that are needed to regulate this area. They don't even intend to bring the revolution forward. They just claim longevity and ..."
Leo decided to re-direct it again: "So they're some kind of rivals to your group?"
"Yes, but only in a formalistic sort of way. They don’t actually take a hand in anything. The people don't really recognize them, not even the ones claiming Indian head rights. People know that it's going to take new leadership, even though they aren't sure it's us.
'I guess this is the most important thing: you are the first representative of the new government that we've ever seen. People aren't sure there even is a new government. They don't know which way to turn. Your visit here has all kinds of gravity. We're grateful you came. We, the Jones Family for sure, and a few others, appreciate the hell out of knowing that the government has sent somebody and that we're going to get integrated into the whole revolutionary system."
Then she waited a long moment for a response.
Keep waiting.
She went on: "So we're at your disposal. We don't know what your itinerary is or how you want things done, but we're all ready, we're all pretty eager, to get started.”
She waited again, but not as long, then continued, "We've thrown around some ideas. We're just offering them, nothing set in stone, just the ideas of local people, local revolutionaries, about what would work the best to get this area into the whole program.”
Another, shorter, wait, "We thought some kind of public event was in order. Something to let everybody know you are here and that the road forward is being prepared for them. A way to let everybody know what's expected of them...
The next pause was beginning to get uncomfortable for her, so Leo made an effort, "Glad to hear your ideas," he tried to put her at ease with what must have been a droopy-eyed smile.
"Well, we thought a parade for tomorrow. Equestrian parades are a pretty common tradition around here, even when everybody had cars. We didn't have politicians in convertibles the way you probably saw in other places; they rode horses even before, usually at the head of the parade or in some place of honor. Banners are good, we have our local ones but if you could get one from New York, it would be better. Anyway, a parade and then a big address from you at the Fairgrounds. Then we could set up the City Hall for you -- the real City Hall at Konowa, not the holding pen at Sasakwa -- with as much staff as we could get. It wouldn't be hard to get volunteers, although I don't know how competent they would be. But anyway, as much staff as you needed to carry out the local program, and then transition ourselves on up to where we're really part of the whole process.”
Another pause, more silence from Leo. She continued, "So that's our thinking. Of course it goes without saying that none of us expects anything for our past service or for our future service either, for that matter. We just want to get things going as easily and as efficiently as can be done."
No, sister, I'm not committing to anything just because you brought me to breakfast. And I'm not buying into your program, and I'm not telling you mine because I don't have one, and I don't intend for you to know that. And I'm not dealing any new poker hands around here in the middle of the game, either...
He told her aloud, "It all strikes me as good, but it's way ahead. There needs to be some natural development. Don't implement anything. Just for now, let me get back to where I started and take things one at a time."
Will that hold her off?
"As you say. As you say, Commissioner, of course. The parade is already set, but we don’t have to do anything beyond that. I should tell you though, respectfully of course, that I'm not sure how much time we have. As you saw this morning, there's no way to tell if we even have all the cars out of commission. And those bourgeois creeps you met this morning aren't the only ones trying to get back into power. Then there's the Seminoles and the backwardness of this population to begin with. You'll probably be shocked, and I don't mean to imply any problems with me or with anybody in the Jones Family, but you're going to find it just a little tough working with some of our more backward families just because you're -- not of the same background as they are. And -- specifically because you're an Indian, a Native American I mean. I just think, recommend, think, that moving more quickly might be better than moving more slowly. That's my opinion."
"I'm Puerto Rican. And we'll deal with that, too. All in time. The rush is over now; the killing is pretty well over, we're pretty well out of danger. The idea now is to build things back up, but this time, it's important that we build things right. And that takes time."
Did that sound statesmanly enough?
"I didn't know you were a Puerto... I didn't think at all about what you are. I was just pointing out what kinds of problems there are around here. Come to think of it, I've been yakking on and on, and I haven't found out anything about you at all. I'll have to be able to say something; everybody has all kinds of questions. I didn't even ask your name."
To this long pause, Leo responded, a little bit reluctantly, with his name.
"You're Leo Torres? My God, I didn't have any idea. I just thought you were a minor official…."
The pert redhead, who had strived all morning to seem as earnestly businesslike as possible, transformed into a gushing autograph-seeking, teenage idol worshiper. Behind her innocent freckles, a pink hue spread. The eyes that had seemed normally sized before, because she had tried to narrow them, revealed themselves to be glowing orbs of blue and clear white. Her mouth parted and remained so. Her voice softened, but her talk came faster than before.
"You are Leo Torres, THE Leo Torres? 'The Final Offer' Leo Torres?"
He raised a tired hand to stop her, "We don't use that."
"I can't believe it! And I dragged you over here on that old plug! Comrade Torres, believe me, if we had known who you were, we would have carried you over here on our shoulders. And, if the others wouldn't have, I would have carried you over here by myself!"
Leo groaned to himself: “She's heard of me!”
He waved the hand again. "Look, not me, not the leadership, and not anybody who's responsible wants to talk about that kind of stuff, stuff that happened before. We just want to look forward."
"But you carried out the pivotal act! You're the one who made everybody stop talking and start moving!"
"There are different evaluations of what I did. Not all of them are good; a lot of them are bad, especially now. Either way, good or bad, it's over now and that kind of thing, the things that maybe had to be done, but maybe didn't, they're in the past."
"But..."
This time the wave of his hand was final. "Drop it! Whether you liked it or you didn't, it makes no difference, and it certainly doesn't help to bring it up here. Just... drop... it!"
"All right. All right. Whatever you say, Comrade. I actually should have figured it out, the way you were so cool back there when all the shooting took place. I guess I just thought you didn't realize how much danger you were in, or maybe I thought they had drugged you or something. You just sat quietly through that bloodbath like it was a tea party or something, like you went through things like that every morning before breakfast."
Leo tried changing the subject: "Speaking of breakfast, can you get more than one cup of coffee here?"
But Jones leaped to her feet like a cheerleader and began clapping for attention and yelling toward the kitchen, "Coffee! Coffee here for Comrade Torres! Comrade Torres wants coffee!"
For the first time, Leo noticed that the other people in the little cafe had been watching Otharine Jones with a certain wariness. When she started her outburst, they started and seemed to shy away, like the horses had done earlier, on their first approach.
This little woman is dangerous, and everybody here knows it!
Leo raised both hands to quiet her, and she sat down, but continued looking expectantly toward the kitchen from which, sure enough, a woman was scurrying with a coffeepot. She was just as afraid of Otharine Jones, Leo decided, as everybody else in the place.
Anyway, I'm getting my coffee and I haven't given away anything.
"Greeley said to tell you this is on the house," the waitress mumbled hastily.
Otharine Jones fired back at the luckless woman, "No you don't. I haven't taken anything from anybody yet, and I won't. And neither will Comrade Leo Torres." Loud enough to be heard by everyone she went on, "We're paying a fair price like anybody else." The waitress backed away submissively.
Leo sat through it quietly. When Jones tried again to resume making plans with her newly-exalted breakfast guest, He cut her short: "For now, we don't need a master plan. We don't need any tales of heroics, either. We don't need anything at all. Just get me back where I was yesterday and let things take their own course for a while, as I told you before."
Jones acquiesced, with a petulent expression of overt reluctance.