Let Them Eat Tea
Page 1
Let Them Eat Tea
A political romance comedy adventure
by
Coleman Maskell
Wynne Cofield
© Copyright 2012, Coleman Maskell, Wynne Cofield
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* * * Table of Contents * * *
Chapter 1 – Deer Hunting
Chapter 2 – Nick and Marie
Chapter 3 – St. Lucy
Chapter 4 – LiberTEA Injustice for All !
Chapter 5 – World Harmony Cafe
Chapter 6 – Dinner at the Farm House
Chapter 7 – Setting Off
Chapter 8 – Charlie and Katrina
Chapter 9 – Winter in the North
Chapter 10 – On L'Isle Barjot
Chapter 11 – Meeting the Crocodiles
Chapter 12 – Night in the Village
Chapter 13 – Hospital in Winter
Chapter 14 – The Waterfall
Chapter 15 – Dinner at the Apartment
Chapter 16 – Back at the Lab
Chapter 17 – Politics as Usual
Chapter 18 – Charlie's Lab Results
Chapter 19 – Night in America Continues
Chapter 20 – Kat and the Kitten
Chapter 21 – Greenhouse
Chapter 22 – A Visit from Doug
Chapter 23 – Charlie Drinks the Tea
Chapter 24 – Greenhouse, White House
Chapter 25 – The Liberty Tea Company
Chapter 26 – A LiberTEA party
Chapter 27 – Back on St. Lucy
Chapter 28 – Water and Sand
Chapter 29 – The Jungle Is Neutral
* * *
Chapter 1 – Deer Hunting
Autumn is brisk and crisp but not yet cold. The sun lies low in the west. In the forest, a few struggling dark green pines stand out in stark contrast against the tall bare hardwood trees. Orange and gold leaves lie scattered on the ground beneath. Three men outfitted for deer hunting move quietly along the route of a deer path, fanned out a few yards apart, carefully observing their surroundings for any sign of deer. Two Secret Service agents accompany the three hunters, taking positions on the far right and far left. Squirrels overhead run leaping away through the branches as the men approach. Occasionally a retreating squirrel pauses and turns to throw a nutshell or a pinecone angrily at the intruders.
Walking between President Sheppard at the center of the group and the Secret Service agent flanking them on the right, Eugene Wright stops to point out a barren patch about waist high on a tree trunk. He looks over to make eye contact with Sheppard. Bark has recently been stripped away, possibly by a hungry deer. Sheppard stares at the spot, then looks at the ground beneath it. The thick ground cover of loose dead leaves and twigs makes it impossible to see any tracks. At eye level, on another nearby tree trunk, they see a second bare patch.
At that moment, off to his left, toward the west, Sheppard hears a slight rustle of ginger footsteps moving through dry leaves. From the corner of his eye he catches a flash of brown motion only a few yards away, moving through the trees where a bark-eating deer might be. With one movement he snaps the butt of his hunting rifle to his shoulder, spins and fires in the direction of the sound.
Nick Wright sees it happening and moves faster. As he darts to cover behind the trunk of a large oak, the buckshot from the older man’s gun whizzes past the spot where Nick had stood an instant before, close enough for him to hear the air ripping.
From behind the tree, Nick shouts out to his trigger-happy friend, "Whoa, there, Shep."
Glancing down, he notices a few medium-sized forked branches nearby on the ground. It strikes him suddenly that they look a lot like five-prong buck antlers. He snatches two of them up quickly and attaches his white pocket handkerchief flag-like onto one of them between two of the prongs. Holding the branches out from behind the tree at deer antler height, he jiggles them up and down. The flag waves. "I surrender," he announces in a shout, continuing to jiggle the white flag on the makeshift antler. "I give up. Don't shoot."
Eugene, the third hunter, laughs, eyes glistening. "I didn't know you were so scared of Cousin Nick going after your job, Quick Draw," he directs a remark at the gun happy President. "You do know you can only serve eight years, right? They told you that? Cause they tell me that's still a rule up there. Getting rid of Nicky here won't help you any with that."
"Come on out here, Nick," the embarrassed shooter calls to the man behind the tree, ignoring Eugene's barbs. "I'm not going to shoot you. Stop it with that handkerchief, will you? Get over here."
Nick drops one branch and pops the other up into the air and then sideways to the ground, grabbing off his handkerchief as it falls. Standing straight, he struts out from behind the tree, smiling broadly, folding his handkerchief and replacing it in his pocket as he strides rooster-like toward the others. Eugene's eyes are still sparkling with suppressed laughter. Sheppard looks grim and embarrassed.
Sheppard clears his throat. "Now listen, Nick, I'm sorry about that, that incident there," he says, slapping the other man on the back.
Sheppard then grasps Nick around the shoulder in a friendly conciliatory way, drawing him near like a close friend and confidante. He leads him a few steps away as if to distance them from the event.
"Right sorry. You know I didn't mean to shoot at you there," he continues in a lowered conspiratorial voice, still walking slowly toward nothing in particular. "I thought it was a deer over there for sure," he continues. After a pause he gives a little laugh and adds, "Glad you’re not hurt."
Nick just smiles and continues to accompany the president, saying nothing. The two men stop walking when they reach Eugene, whose eyes are still sparkling a little with the enjoyment of Sheppard's discomfort. Sheppard looks Nick over and brushes off the arms of his jacket with both hands, relieved to find no damage anyplace.
"You're good as new," Sheppard announces, angling for a 'no harm, no foul' outcome. "Like it never happened." After pausing to stare into the other man's eyes, he adds slowly, "I guess the women are going to think this is pretty funny too. Probably accuse me of being careless. Guess I'll get an earful." He pauses and stares at the younger man, waiting for a reaction.
Nick waits several seconds for effect before answering, still looking into Sheppard's eyes. "No reason the women need to hear about this," he finally answers, to the visible relief of the man who has just emptied two barrels of buckshot at him. "The less said about it the better. We don't want it leaking to the press. It'd be bad for the campaign. I still need you to help out with that campaign for the 37th Amendment," he says pointedly. Nick has coupled the campaign for the Right To Work Constitutional Amendment together with his hopes of succeeding President Sheppard in the next national election. "We only have about a year to campaign," he continues. "We don't need any distractions from that. We don't want any bad press."
Nobody says anything for a time. The men's eyes are still locked on each other. Finally Sheppard nods. "The campaign. Best thing for everybody if we devote our efforts to that," he agrees, and slaps the other man on the back again.
"Best thing all around," Nick answers with a smile. "Right, Eugene?" he solicits the other man's agreement.
Eugene Wright nods and shakes his head at the same time, still smiling wryly, eyes still twinkling, but looking as though the burden of suppressing the laughter has just increased its weight. "Absolutely," he agrees, grinning. "You bet."
As they stand contemplating their situation and the future, a muffled thump catches their attention. The Secret Service agent on their left has discharged his weapon, the sound barel
y audible through the silencer. Twenty yards further away a big five-prong buck leaps up, twists in the air, and falls limply to the forest floor. Its front legs twitch as it tries to raise its head one last time. Then it lies still, panting, heart pounding, eyes wide. The dying buck has suffered a clean wound to the chest through the shoulder very near the heart.
"Better if you finish it off, Mr. President," the agent addresses Sheppard. The two men exchange a quick unemotional glance. Sheppard reloads his rifle and walks over to where the deer still lies panting. He fires point blank and the deer lies still.
"Don't you have to account for firing your weapon?" Eugene asks the agent, wondering if the procedure is actually the same in reality as what he's heard.
"I shot at an animal that seemed to be menacing the president," the agent answers coolly, holstering his weapon.
"Yeah, he was in danger of not bagging anything today," Eugene observes.
The agent looks at his eyes, half smiles for a second, then looks away again in the direction of the president, saying nothing. He walks over to where the president stands with Nick looking down at the big five-prong buck.
"I'll carry that for you, Mr. President," the agent offers, and picks up the dead buck without waiting for an answer. It weighs as much as a grown man, at least 150 pounds, but he throws it over his shoulder with apparent ease. "Shall we be heading back now, Sir?" he asks in the same even tone of formal politeness.
Sheppard nods. "Thanks, Stan," he adds. Then Sheppard takes point as the group heads back toward the isolated turnout where the cars are parked.
Back at the road, Stan throws the deer carcass up into the bed of Nick's big white 4x4 Ford truck. Nick and Eugene get into the front seat and start the engine. The president joins Stan and a waiting Secret Service agent in a sleek low black unmarked American car with tinted bulletproof windows. Their other Secret Service companion from hunting duty enters a third vehicle, joining another agent who has waited guarding the cars while the hunting party wandered in the woods. The crackle of radio contact sounds out from both government cars as the agents check in before proceeding. Then the three vehicles pull out onto the road and head as a convoy for Eugene's family farm a few miles away.
"Boy, it's been a nice little vacation for me here these last few days, Gene," Nick says to his cousin as they pull out. "I almost hate to get back on the campaign trail."
"Almost," Eugene laughs, "but I guess duty calls."
"That's it. Duty calls," his cousin answers.
"Nothing to do with egomania," Eugene adds. "Wanting to be president or anything like that. It's just selfless service to the country, right?"
"Hey, absolutely," Nick answers, and they both laugh. "Nothing egotistical about me."
"Right, because egotism would be a flaw," Eugene suggests.
"And I have no flaws!" Nick completes the thought like a high school boy, and they both laugh again.
It's been that way since they were kids. Here in the country, going hunting with his cousin again, it feels like nothing has changed, as if time has been indefinitely suspended.
Time, of course, goes on.
They return to the farm for one last family dinner. Then President Sheppard will return to Washington and Nick Wright will return to the campaign circuit of end-to-end rallies, speeches, appearances and interviews. The presidential election is only about a year away, and time moves quickly. Away from the farm, outside the magic bubble of hunting and camaraderie, time is passing quickly and the world is clearly changing. Nick wants to steer that change.