Lay Down My Sword and Shield Read Online Free PDF Page B

knew she had already gone into her transformation as the pleasant wife of a congressional candidate. It was amazing how fast it could take place.
    I stepped out of the bedroom and shook hands with the Senator.
    “How are you, Hack?” he said, his face healthy and cheerful. He was fifty-five years old, but his handshake was still hard and his wrist strong. He was six inches shorter than I, solidly built, his shoulders pulled straight back, and his white hair trimmed close to the scalp. His acetylene-blue eyes were bright and quick, impossible to penetrate, and you knew after he glanced confidently into your face that his lack of height was no disadvantage to him. He had the small, hard chest of a professional soldier, and his tailored suit didn’t have a fold or a bulge in it. He wore dentures, and they caused him to lisp slightly with his Texas accent, but otherwise he was solid. Also, Senator Dowling had managed to remain a strong southern figure through five administrations. He had been on many sides over the years, and he always walked out of the ballpark with the winning team (and therein lay his gift, the ability to sense change before anyone else got a whiff of it). He was put into Congress by a one-million-acre southwest Texas corporation ranch in 1940, and in the next two years he paid off his obligations by sponsoring large subsidies for growing nothing on arid land. Then he represented the oil interests, the franchised utility companies, and the Houston and Dallas industries up on antitrust suits. He assured his constituents that he was a segregationist until the Kennedy administration, then he backed one of the first civil rights bills. In the meantime he acquired a three-thousand-acre ranch in the Hill Country north of Austin, and stock in almost every major corporation in Texas with a defense contract.
    “Fine, Senator. How have you been?” I said.
    “Good. Relaxing at the ranch. Fishing and playing tennis a little bit before the campaign.”
    “Hack, fix the Senator a drink,” Verisa said.
    “Thank you. A half jigger and some soda will be fine,” he said.
    “You should try the bass in Hack’s ponds,” Bailey said. He sat in one of the tall bar chairs with his arm over the back. Good old Bailey, I thought. He could always come through with an inane remark at the right time. He looked like my twin, except five years older and fifteen pounds heavier, with wrinkles in his forehead and neck. Bailey was a practical man who worried about all the wrong things.
    “I’d hoped to talk with you earlier today,” the Senator said, and looked straight into my face with those acetylene-blue eyes.
    “I had to stop over in Austin with a client. Maybe we can talk after my speech,” I said.
    “Verisa says you’re having people up for drinks later. I’d rather we have some time between ourselves.”
    “Hack, we’re invited for breakfast at the River Oaks Country Club in the morning,” Bailey said. “Maybe the Senator can join us. You all can talk, and then we’ll play some doubles.”
    “That sounds fine,” the Senator said. “I could use a couple of sets against an ex–Baylor pitcher.”
    The sonofabitch, I thought.
    “My opponent hasn’t somehow organized his ragtail legions, has he?”
    “Oh no, no. I don’t think we need to spend too much time on this gentleman.” He laughed with his healthy smile. “I wanted to talk with you about several things that will come later in Washington. Your father helped me a great deal when I was first elected to Congress, and I learned then that it’s invaluable to have an experienced friend.”
    I handed him his highball glass with the half jigger and soda. He had learned to be a cautious person with liquor, and I knew he wouldn’t finish the glass I had given him.
    “Well, I appreciate it, Senator. But I don’t know how good my Baylor arm will be on the court,” I said, biting down inside myself.
    “Hack is defensive tonight,” Verisa said.
    “He should