“What about her?” His face flushed. He glanced at Gabrielle, but she gave nothing away. Gabrielle stood just inside the door holding the packet of letters, saying nothing, staring at the floor.

“A man must be able to control his woman, Sam. A woman depends on her man to set limits.” He was still not facing Sam. He stood, hands clasped behind his back, staring out the window, a thin spiral of smoke rising from his cigar. “I have certain reports,” Waddell stated calmly. “We understand she has been, well, sympathetic to the Negro cause.”

“She makes up her own mind, if that’s what you mean.” Sam had a vivid image of Gray Ellen swinging around the lamppost after Waddell’s speech, screaming, “You lost the War!” then tumbling under him in the lime dust.

Waddell shook his head like a patient schoolmaster. He still wouldn’t face Sam. “Your mistake, then. It’s one thing to hold a few sentimental opinions.”

Gabrielle opened her mouth and then closed it on the back of her hand.

“It’s quite another to interfere with the business of men—public men.”

Sam stood up. “Why don’t you just come out and say what’s on your mind?”

Behind Gabrielle, a man entered brusquely: Hugh MacRae.

Waddell at last turned. “You want to tell him, Hugh?” He opened a drawer and fished something out.

MacRae said, “It cost me something to bring you down here.”

“I paid my way,” Sam said.

“I’m not talking about money. Money’s easy. Reputation, that’s what I’m talking about. Foreign correspondent. War hero.”

“I never claimed—”

“You didn’t have to.”

So somebody had wired Chicago—he’d almost managed to forget Cuba. He felt his cheeks go hot.

MacRae said, “You came here on the strength of my name. My poor relation from up north. You asked for a job, and I obliged you.”

“And I’m grateful.”

“Don’t be,” Waddell said mildly. “You don’t have it anymore.” He held a rag in his hand.

MacRae said, “I didn’t expect much. Didn’t ask for anything but a little gratitude. Is that so much to ask? Instead, look how you repay me.”

Sam started for the door. “I don’t have to stand here and take this.”

MacRae blocked his way. “Yes, cousin—I’m afraid you do.”

Gabrielle moved off to the side. He thought he heard her say, “I’m sorry,” but it might have been only a sharp intake of breath.

“Look, it must be some kind of mistake.” Sam’s insides were churning. Everything was going wrong again. He had been so close.