by Marvin Tyson
Jake leaned over and opened the door for him, and Marty slid into the back seat. As Jake got into the car on the driver’s side, he glanced back at Marty. “Where to, sir?”
“Let’s go see what’s waiting for us at the capitol, Jake,” Marty said, removing his hat again and setting it on the seat beside him. It was an unusually cold morning for a November in Texas, and Marty was glad of the vehicle’s heated interior.
He sat back in the luxurious seat across from Kay Darling, his press secretary, a slim, petite woman in a navy business suit.
“All right, Kay,” he said. “What’s on the agenda?”
“Just so you’re not blindsided, Norma called to alert you that former President Corbin Jackson issued a statement you need to be aware of. I think Jackson may have heard some whisper about the new oil reserves found at Eagle Ford. While he didn’t come right out and say it, he hinted very strongly that IF Texas found more reserves, we probably wouldn’t allow people from the states to buy leases for them.”
“What? What would make him issue any kind of a statement, particularly something that stupid?” Marty was incredulous. “He has no standing at all on anything.”
Kay shrugged. “I surely don’t know what he’s getting at,” she said, “but I don’t have all the info. I’d just play this one close to the vest.” She grinned at him. “Just give them some political double talk, and pretend complete ignorance of the subject, which won’t take much pretending because we’re pretty much in the dark about it.”
“Okay, I can do that.”
“I’ll have Norma get a replay of it so we can view it in your office as soon as we get back,” Kay said.
“Sounds good,” he told her. “Would you have Norma round up Sam Waters, Raymond Ramos, and J.P. Thompson, and also Pat Thomas, if possible, to meet me in my office?”
“Sure thing, sir,” she said, making notes on her tablet. “Now, there are some other items you might get asked about as well. Where are we on the new constitution?” She looked over at him. “Now that we’re our own country, everyone wants to know how we’re going to pay the bills, who our trade partners will be, how we’re going to move from Texas to other states in the Union, how air traffic control…”
“Whoa, Kay!” he said, laughing. Then he got serious. “I’m sure you and your terrific staff have all those answers mapped out for me, but let’s save them for our first press conference.”
As the Escalade pulled out onto Texas 183 headed for the capitol, the new president gazed out the wide windows, noticing it was a beautiful day, the kind that gave a person hope.
The journey to this point in time, this moment in history, had been long and hard. A committee was appointed to work out the separation details with the United States government, and it was going to take two to three years to finalize what the people’s vote had started. Marty wasn’t even sure three years would be long enough. Transitioning Texas from a state in the Union to an independent sovereign nation was something no living Texan, no living American, had seen before, and the ride would probably be rocky.
Well, not probably, he grinned wryly. As he’d expected, a crowd of media types awaited him at the capitol.
Kay and Marty exited the vehicle. Questions came flying at him as soon as he reached the welcoming committee, and microphones were thrust at him. He looked around and spotted a reporter he knew from the local ABC affiliate.
“Pete,” he called.
“Thank you, sir,” Pete Boyer said. “Care to comment on President Jackson’s statement from this morning?” He leaned forward expectantly, and his cameraperson angled for a good shot.
“I could,” Marty responded, “but you have me at something of a disadvantage. I just heard about it a few minutes ago.”
Another reporter asked, “President Jackson called into question if civil and human rights would stay the same in Texas as they were before the separation. Will they?”
“Thanks for the question, Angela. How long have you known me now?” he asked, smiling.
“A few years, sir.” She laughed.
“So, knowing me, what do you think my answer would be?” Marty gazed over at her.
“I’ve always known you to be fair, sir, so I’d guess yes.”
“You’d be right,” he told her. “Texas is its own country, but it still works with the United States. If nothing else, Texas is the epitome of individual rights and liberties. Once I know the whole story behind President Jackson’s comments, I’ll get back to you. Anything else?”
Another reporter raised his microphone toward the president. “How about travel between Texas and the other states, especially air travel?”
“Nothing will change, Matt,” Marty said. “We’ll keep doing what we’ve been doing; it’ll be easy. We’re going to make this transition work in a way that will be beneficial to everyone.”
He paused, then said, “Ladies and gentlemen, I have just one more thing for now. Congratulations to all us Texans who had the good sense to break the chains that tried to keep us attached to the bloated, unwieldy United States government, and welcome to the new country on the verge of breaking in with the big boys!”
This last comment drew a round of applause, He waved, then his protective detail of Texas Rangers closed up around him and guided him into the building. The heavy door closed behind him, shutting out the noise, and he took a deep breath of freedom. It was time to go to work.
Chapter 2
Marty strode confidently through the halls of the Texas capitol to the same office he’d occupied during his governorship. He talked to his staff as he went.
“There’s a lot to do,” he said. “Let’s get busy. A few holdouts in the press are determined that Texas should not be allowed to leave under any circumstances. I’m afraid those same voices will turn into a cacophony of militarism, calling for armed intervention if Texas doesn’t ‘come to her senses’.”
He glanced at Kay, who hurried to keep up with his long stride. She’d been with him throughout his campaign to become governor, and she knew the ropes.
“Don’t be too concerned, sir,” she said. “Fortunately, there are far more who want to try continued negotiations to bring Texas ‘back into the fold’ but, failing that, these folks want the separation to be as peaceful and friendly as possible.”
“Thanks, Kay,” he smiled. “I know you’ll work it all out as it comes.”
“You betcha, sir,” she grinned back.
“This statement by President Jackson? You got that set up for me to review?”
“Norma says it is,” Kay said, “and if she says it is, you know it is.”
“Right,” Marty agreed. His staff was well trained, and they usually knew what he was thinking. He’d cultivated each of them to do what they did best and, so far, he hadn’t been disappointed.
“We’ve just gotten a good start on the new government and the new constitution, and now we have Jackson spouting off about Texas trying to stifle human rights and screw over the U.S. over our resources, old, new or imagined.” He walked into his office. “Something doesn’t smell right, and the timing is just a little too perfect. It’s almost like he’s trying to start a civil war.”
His secretary, Norma Harrison, looked up as he entered. A matronly, well-dressed woman who wore her gray hair in a shoulder-length bob, she kept a neat desk with a photo of a handsome, middle-aged man and two young women in their early teens. Marty noticed that, as always, a red rose stood tall in an elegant bud vase.
“Hello, President Kert,” she said in a soft voice with a genteel edge to it.
“Good morning, Norma. What’s on our agenda today?”
“You mean now that Texas has become the first state to leave the Union in modern times?” She smiled at him engagingly. “Not much.”
She grabbed her iPad and rose to follow him into his office. Kay brought up the rear. Both women took seats across the broad mahogany desk from the president.
“Sir,” Norma said, “I’ve put th
e call out to your ‘three amigos’ and your former bodyguard. They should be here shortly.”
“Thanks, Norma,” Marty told her, “if anyone can find that crew, it’ll be you.”
Bill O’Hare, Marty’s chief of staff, stood next to the large screen hanging behind Marty’s desk. “Welcome to the office of the new president of the 2nd Republic of Texas,” he said. “Congratulations, Marty.”
“Thanks, Bill. Let’s get this show on the road.”
Bill switched the replay on. Former President Corbin Jackson moved onto the screen from the left of a wooden podium with several microphones bundled up in front of it. “I just want to follow up on two questions my office has received from the public, and I thought this would be a good venue,” he stated, then paused.
“Yeah,” Marty muttered, “and, being the political hack he is, of course we have to have a press conference.”
President Jackson continued. “We want to assure every citizen that we will be aggressive in protecting the human rights of American citizens everywhere, and the country’s right to all natural resources, no matter where they are found―even if it’s in Texas. I spoke to President Barker and several leading House and Senate members yesterday, and I assure you we all feel very strongly about this,” he said.
The reporters present obviously smelled an opportunity to stir the pot right away. “Does this mean we’ll leave all options on the table to ensure human rights, as well as access to Texas oil resources?” one asked.
“You should really ask President Barker that question,” President Jackson smirked. “But, I repeat, he feels strongly that we can’t sit idly by on either of those issues. We worked too hard to protect of each and every citizen of the United States and, if new natural resources were found in what was once a part of the U.S. and we were denied access to those strategically vital resources, we would have a problem.” He stepped back from the podium and started to walk away as a barrage of questions was leveled at him. He turned back and said, “Please direct any questions you have on this matter to your elected officials.”
Bill switched off the replay, then pressed a button that rolled the screen up into a bar just below the ceiling. “That’s the main reason we’re here,” he said.
Marty was fuming after Bill played the recording, and he got up and started pacing furiously. “What is this guy playing at?” he asked. “This is the kind of talk that could drag Texas and the U.S. right back into the quagmire of confusion and distrust that has taken so much effort to resolve following Texas’ vote to secede. Frankly, I don’t see that happening, but there are going to be some ruffled feathers, regardless of the veracity of the statement.
“This could be a nightmare for our public relations staff, Kay,” he said. “Our first order of business is to calm any anxiety Texans might have about this fiasco. There’s still a degree of animosity among Texans about the treatment of the last few decades, with constant rumors that U.S. tanks could roll across the border at any minute. But I don’t want to overreact, either.”
“Right, sir,” Kay said. “I’ve already got some staff working on it.”
“Okay. So why did Jackson feel the need for a press conference?” he wondered out loud. “Kay, I want to know if Jackson had clearance from the current administration to do this or, worse yet, if he did it at their request. It just makes no sense. He knows as well as anyone that these oil and gas reserves are either wholly owned by, or leased to, private individuals or energy corporations. Even Texas pays market rates for any oil or gas we get from any of them, no matter where they’re found. This has the smell of pure agitation and nothing else. As far as I can tell, no one has anything obvious to gain by this provocation.”
“We’ll work all the angles, sir,” Kay assured him. “I’ll send my staff some additional questions they can start looking into.”
Marty stopped pacing and leaned against the desk. Bill came up to him. “Marty, I have some agenda items I need to prepare so we can have all our ducks in a row when the others get here. Can you excuse me for a bit?”
“Sure, Bill, take the time you need. Let’s try to stay ahead of any crisis. I hope we won’t have to sidestep the press again like I did this morning. Ladies, you can go catch up, too. Kay, I’ll let you know when the ‘advisory council’ gets here.”
The three staffers left to deal with their other duties until Marty needed them again. Marty went around the desk and sat in his chair. A few moments later, Norma brought in a cup of black coffee.
“Thank you, Norma,” he said, reflecting that she always knew just what he needed and when.
He leaned back in his black leather chair and fondly recalled the first clandestine meeting he’d had with Mrs. Travis when she introduced him to Raymond Ramos, J.P. Thompson and Sam Waters at the Driskill Hotel. He had never been in such lavish surroundings and he certainly never met people so devoted to liberty and to Texas.
Raymond Ramos, unusually tall at about six feet six inches, always dressed like he just rode in from checking fence on his ranch. A sweat-stained Stetson always topped his head when he was outside and rested in his hand when under roof, well-worn western boots graced his feet, and his ruggedly handsome face was obviously more accustomed to the Texas sun than the lights of a fancy hotel.
J.P. Thompson was always impeccably dressed, with hair and nails always freshly done. But, underneath the elegant exterior, he was as hard as sun-dried mesquite.
Sam Waters dressed much like J.P., but his hair always looked like he’d missed a couple of spots here and there with the hairbrush. He wasn’t quite as comfortable in his expensive suit, silk tie and button-down shirt as J.P. was in his, but it didn’t take much conversation to learn that any of them would lay down his life for freedom or for Texas.
These three life-long friends all had hearts as soft as a snowflake most of the time, but a wise person would give them wide berth when they were stirred up, which they were when they arrived at Marty’s office. All three were military veterans who’d bootstrapped into wealth in the oil fields and cattle country of Texas.
J.P. was the first of the old team to arrive, followed closely by Sam and Raymond. Marty gave each of them a big hug, and J.P. and Sam settled on the leather sofa, while Raymond took a seat in one of the armchairs in front of Marty’s desk. They were still making small talk when Pat Thomas swept in.
She was tall at five feet, nine inches, and she wore her blonde hair swept up in a ponytail that was elegant and casual at the same time. Formerly Pat Saunders, she had been both a CIA operative and FBI agent and, as the latter, had been given charge of security for Governor Kert after an attempt was made on his life in Houston. Striking in a red, long-sleeved tunic over a pair of slim black jeans, Pat was highly capable. She saved Marty’s life on more than one occasion, and almost lost her own on the last attempt. She’d married Rick Thomas, Marty’s best friend, and she was seven months pregnant, although she didn’t show much.
“I’m sorry to hold you up, gentlemen, but I had a lengthy drive back here. Rick and I were in Marble Falls at a Texas Cattlemen’s meeting,” she apologized.
Pat took the other chair at Marty’s desk, and leaned over to touch Raymond’s hand.
This was the first time they had all been together since Mrs. Travis’ funeral, and Marty was delighted to see them all. The only thing he didn’t like were the circumstances that brought them here. Still, they made up a group that was aware of the state of everything Texas, and he relied on each of them to be positive but honest about how things were going.
“I’m sure you’re all aware of the statements made last evening by former President Jackson. I need your input so I can assure the people of Texas that everything is still under the control of the Republic of Texas they voted for,” Marty explained.
Sam Waters, never one to hold back when his opinion was requested, was first to speak up. He leaned forward, resting his hands on his knees. “I think we need to make it very clear to this nut case that Texas doesn’t n
eed any lessons from people who have made a career out of whizzing on their own Constitution and the individual rights of the people as to what our constitution should say!”
Then J.P. put in his two cents worth, which usually added up to a couple of dollars, at least. “His statement sounded like a threat to Texas, and I don’t think we can overlook that. He was, in my opinion, issuing a warning to us about human rights abuses and trying to maintain control over our own natural resources. Like any other natural resource, anyone with the money can buy oil leases, except foreign buyers; nobody just gives away those rights. But he has no right to say we don’t want to or wouldn’t.”
Raymond added indignantly, “I find it hard to swallow that this idiot just assumes that he can still run roughshod over Texas. Someone is pushing this from the shadows, if you ask me. Jackson just isn’t smart enough to do this on his own, and he’s not stupid enough to think we’ll roll over in the face of this intimidation attempt.”
Marty looked pointedly at Pat. He still trusted her instincts in a tight spot as much as anyone he’d known. He knew he was only alive today because she could root out trouble and stop it before lesser folks even knew there was a problem. “Pat, I know you’ve got something to say. Let’s hear it.”
“Well, Governor, something has a very strange odor here,” she said, calling him by the title she’d known him by for her years of service. “This isn’t a case where a reporter sought out President Jackson to get a response to something said or done here in Texas. There is a lot more to this than a washed-up politician trying to regain the spotlight for another grab at the brass ring.”
“I agree,” Marty said, “but what should we do about it, if anything?”
When there were no other thoughts put forth on the matter, Pat said, “In my opinion, you should make a short statement to tone things down in Texas. It should be non-confrontational, not too serious. As for me, I’m going to go find out what’s going on in D.C.”
