Previously: Booth shoots Lincoln and breaks leg in escape. Stanton’s henchman Lafayette Baker takes Christy’s body to an embalmer. Booth and Herold join across the river in Maryland.Booth remembers Dr. Mudd lives nearby. Stanton takes over at the Peterson house.
Andrew Johnson, who lay in his bed at the Kirkwood Hotel, was having a nightmare. A group of dirty, long-haired bearded men grinned, revealing mouths with scattered brown teeth. Off to the side were the girls from Greeneville who laughed at him.
“You think you’re smart enough to be president? You can’t even read or write!”
“You’re just a smelly old boy in ragged clothes, and that’s all you’ll ever be.”
“You’re a drunk!”
“You’re poor as snot!”
His nostrils flared with the stench of cow shit and hog piss. Johnson looked around and found his body mired in a mud bog slowly sinking. He tried to scream but nothing came out. Mud crept in around the corners of his mouth. All he heard was laughter.
Johnson’s body shook violently until he awoke shouting, “No!” Looking around he realized he was in the Kirkwood Hotel in Washington City. His body was drenched in sweat. He sighed, realizing it had been a nightmare. He was not still in the pig sty in Tennessee but was the Vice-President of the United States. How long would he suffer from those dreams? How can a man with such horrible visions in his sleep become President of the United States? Perhaps when his wife Eliza joined him in the White House, she would give him confidence.
Struggling, he went to the washstand to splash water on his face. He observed himself in the mirror and remembered how Stanton reacted when he arrived at the boarding house to see President Lincoln. Stanton looked as though he had seen a ghost. His gut told him that Stanton had expected him to be dead.
The words “They said” swirled in Johnson’s mind, remembering what the assassin muttered at his door earlier in the evening. Was Stanton the one who masterminded the shooting of Lincoln and the stabbing of Seward? Johnson could not prove anything, but he was sure Stanton was capable of everything. A knock at the door stirred him from his thoughts.
“We have most solemn news, Mr. Johnson,” Preston King called out.
“Please let us in,” James Lane added.
After Johnson opened the door, King put his hand on his shoulder. “President Lincoln died at 7:22 this morning.”
“You look like a mess,” Lane blurted. “Of course, it’s understandable, considering the situation.”
“I only look this bad on nights the President has been shot and killed.” Johnson shut the door.
King laughed and slapped Johnson on the back. “You always have a joke for any occasion, Mr. Vice-President—I mean, Mr. President—I mean…”
“Stop being a jackass, King,” Lane interjected. He took a note from his pocket and handed it to Johnson. “This is from the Cabinet. Mr. Chase will be here at 10 a.m. to swear you in as president.”
“Do you have another suit of clothing, sir?” King said, going to the armoire in the corner. “We want you to look your best when the Chief Justice arrives.”
“Yes,” Johnson replied, running his hands through his hair. “I should change clothes.” What should one wear on such a tragic occasion, Johnson wondered, considering the wrinkled possibilities stored in the armoire.
“Smile!” Lane ordered suddenly.
Frowning while he considered telling the Kansas senator that was a damned fool thing to say, Johnson reluctantly turned the corners of his mouth up.
“No, I mean show me your teeth,” Lane corrected himself.
Johnson was not any more pleased with this order as the previous one. No one had talked to him like this since he was a child. He swallowed his pride and pulled back his lips to expose his teeth.
“Hmph, you better brush them,” Lane insisted.
“Oh, yes, this is much better,” King said, pulling a black suit from the armoire. “I believe this is the one you wore to the inauguration, isn’t it?”
“You’re not planning on dressing me, are you?” Johnson’s patience wore thin. “I don’t get naked in front of nobody.”
“Of course, not, Mr. Vice-President,” King replied with a guffaw. “What were we thinking? We only have your best interests at heart, I assure you.”
“We’ll leave,” Lane said, “but don’t forget to brush those teeth.”
‘Gentlemen, I am completely in control of myself. This is indeed a stressful time, but I think I am up to the challenge.”
“Of course, you are, Mr. Vice-President.”
“Oh,” Lane mumbled, pulling a small bottle of whiskey out of his pocket, “this is for you, to settle your nerves. Mr. Stanton thought….”
“We thought you might need it,” King interrupted, patting Lane on the shoulder.
Johnson’s eyes widened. “Mr. Stanton? Did he send you over here?”
“The Cabinet as a whole made the decision, sir,” King replied, taking the bottle from Lane and extending it to Johnson. “Here, this will do you good.”
He did not take the bottle. “But you talked directly to Mr. Stanton. All this was his idea, wasn’t it?”
“If you want to get technical, yes, it was Mr. Stanton,” Lane conceded, “but I’m sure he was speaking for the entire Cabinet. We all are concerned for your wellbeing, Mr. Johnson.”
“Please take it, sir.” King pushed the bottle closer to him.
“I appreciate your concern,” Johnson replied, accepting the whiskey from King. He pulled out his pocket watch. “Mr. Chase will be here soon, gentlemen, and I must prepare myself.” He pushed them toward the door.
“Yes sir, we want you to present yourself in the best way possible,” King said.
Opening the door, Johnson extended his hand to the exit. King and Lane bowed and walked into the hall. “Please report back to Mr. Stanton that I am doing well. Will you do that for me?”
Both men blinked, and their smiles faded a moment.
“Of course, sir.”
Anything you say, sir.”
After closing the door, Johnson cursed under his breath. “Damn Stanton. He’s out to get me. He’d love to see me repeat my drunken stupor of Inauguration Day. But it isn’t going to happen. Not to me. Not twice.”
As he angrily considered how Stanton was setting him up, a sudden thought that the whiskey might be poisoned flickered across his mind. “Stanton is insidious,” he mumbled to himself as he strode straight the window, opened it and threw the offending bottle of booze onto the street. “Damn fools. I thought King and Lane were smarter than that.”
Johnson quickly changed his clothing and followed Lane’s advice, brushing his teeth vigorously.