Previously: War Secretary Stanton holds the Lincolns and janitor Gabby Zook captive in the White House basement. Private Adam Christy takes guard duties. Mary talks Gabby into attacking Adam. Lincoln intervenes. Ashamed and distraught, Adam gets drunk and kills the butler who stops him from molesting the cook. Stanton and henchman Baker clean up the mess.
Stanton awaited the November presidential election results with pride and anticipation in the War Department telegraph room. Others around him paced with uncertainty, because some states were late in reporting. In his gut he knew it was won for Abraham Lincoln and Andrew Johnson. Stanton smirked at the thought of Johnson, a known alcoholic who had been taught to read and write by his wife, being sworn in as vice president. The man would be manipulated without any difficulty. That was why Stanton had influenced the Republican Party to drop Hannibal Hamlin as vice president and nominate Johnson.
“Don’t worry, Mr. President.” Lamon patted Duff on the back. “The country’s behind you.”
“Mr. Lincoln, we’ve the latest results,” Noah Brooks said with a glint in his eyes. “You’ve won.”
Brooks replaced Nicolay, who in late October resigned to become United States consul in Paris. Hay took time off to finish personal business before going to Paris as secretary to the legation. Stanton did not care, relegating Nicolay and Hay to the category of small potatoes, and he saw Brooks as just as innocuous. He had been a correspondent from the Sacramento Union. Some thought the young reporter was politically astute, but Stanton doubted it.
“These telegrams are from Andrew Johnson,” Brooks said, handing one to Duff and one to Stanton.
Stanton read his message from Johnson:
Mr. Stanton,
My Washington sources tell me of your omnipresence around Mr. Lincoln
and of your reprehensible behavior toward him. Let me warn you I will be
Mr. Lincoln’s champion in all matters. Your reputation is that of a bully and
a coward. Let me assure you that you shall not bully me and that I shall make
it my mission to reveal your craven cowardice to all.
Vice President-elect
Andrew Johnson
“What does Mr. Johnson say, Father?” Alethia asked, squeezing Duff’s arm.
“‘Dear Mr. President,’” Duff began. “‘It is with great humility I acknowledge the will of the nation for you to proceed with the preservation of our Union and the task of healing. I do not understand why you chose me to be by your side, but I pledge to be your champion in all matters.’”
“Hear, hear,” Brooks said.
“Sounds like my kind of man,” Lamon said with a laugh.
Stanton could feel his neck burn red, yet he said nothing. He was not ready to return power to Lincoln, even though the end of the war was nearing.
“How nice,” Alethia said. “I knew he was a Southern gentleman.”
“And articulate,” Duff said. “I hope he doesn’t drink as much as they say he does.”
Everyone chuckled, except Stanton, who wadded his telegram tightly in his fist.
“What did your telegram say, Mr. Stanton?” Lamon asked.
“Basically the same thing,” he lied. “He said he looked forward to working with me for the next four years.”