Gods and Generals - Jeff Shaara [42]
“Colonel Lee,” Houston said. “I’m glad you could be here. I have wanted to meet you for some time.”
“Thank you, Governor.”
Twiggs sniffed, brought the meeting back to the subject at hand. “Governor, the army has learned that it is likely the state of Texas will secede very soon. This office is concerned that the transition proceed smoothly and that violence is minimized. I would like to hear your thoughts on how this might best be accomplished.”
Houston shifted in his chair, glanced at Lee and said, “General, there will be a vote on this issue within a few days, and I am reasonably certain that despite my strong desire for Texas to remain a part of the Union, there is a great deal of strength on the part of those who would pull us apart.”
It was a politician’s words, Lee thought, but he also saw a painful look on Houston’s rugged face.
Twiggs said, “Well then, let’s make this a simple matter. The army is prepared to vacate the forts and turn over all equipment at your request.”
Lee was stunned. Twiggs was offering the surrender of the army’s property and territory, when secession had not even been called to a vote. He felt words boiling up, could not stay quiet.
“General, forgive me, sir, but has General Scott approved this transfer?”
Twiggs glared at him. “Colonel Lee, General Scott is busy in Washington sitting on the right hand of God. He does not know the situation here, he is not in a position to make the best decisions.”
“General, have you notified anyone in Washington of your offer to the governor?”
Twiggs stood and leaned out over his desk, toward Lee. “Colonel, I do not need any instructions from you on how to perform my duties. You are in attendance here today because you command a regiment that will be involved in the transfer. There is nothing else for you to say.”
Lee clearly remembered Mexico. There was always the deep rift between Scott and Twiggs, the jealousy that Twiggs had for command, for the popularity of the troops. Twiggs was making a last grand show now, Lee thought, displaying an independence in his command that would never be tolerated in Washington. He was an old man, had voiced his opinions for weeks that the Union would be dissolved, and Lee realized that if the pressure came down on him, he would simply leave, retire, and return to his home state of Georgia. By complying peacefully with the Texas secessionists, he would be able to return to Georgia in a positive light, a friend of the South. It was all very neat, very convenient, and Lee felt a fire crawl up the back of his neck. He gripped the arms of his chair. Twiggs was right, there was nothing else he could say.
Houston sat without speaking, watched Lee. He was a good soldier as well as a politician, and he also understood what Twiggs was doing.
“General,” he said, “I believe we should meet again, once the convention vote is taken. It is perhaps premature to plan any specifics.”
Houston rose, made a slight bow to Twiggs, then turned to Lee, who caught a glance, a meaning in the look. Houston walked to the heavy oak door, paused, turned back to Lee and said, “Colonel, please, if the general will permit, will you accompany me?”
Twiggs had not expected the meeting to be this brief, had not finished basking in his own importance, and he tried to speak, to rescue the situation. “Governor, we have much to . . . there are many details—”
“Yes, General, I will call on you when the matter is more clear. Thank you for meeting with me. Do you mind if Colonel Lee is excused?”
Twiggs glanced at Lee, then looked back at Houston, said nothing, but nodded dumbly. Lee stood then, and in an awkward moment saluted Twiggs before moving toward the door.
In the outer office, he waited for Houston, curious. Twiggs’s aides stood as Houston came out, and the two men walked through the outer door, where Houston’s aides were waiting, three men in identical gray suits. They