like livin' in Kentucky when it belonged to the Confederate States, you'd know it, too.'
'But we aren't in the Confederate States any more,' Achilles pointed out.
'But white folks is still white folks.' That wasn't Cincinnatus; it was Elizabeth. The two older people thought as one on this question. If anything, Elizabeth was more cautious about rocking the boat than her husband.
Grace's smile was sad. She held up a hand to stop Achilles when he would have come back with a hot answer. That hand did stop him, too, as Cincinnatus noted with surprise and more than a little respect. She said, 'My parents sound the same about this. But times have changed. If times hadn't changed, would Achilles and I be together?'
'Times has changed-some,' Cincinnatus said. 'They ain't changed enough. You look at the black folks runnin' away from the Confederate States. You look at how the USA don't let 'em cross the border. President Hoover, President Smith, that don't matter-it don't change. The USA don't want nothin' to do with us, an' that's how come I say things ain't changed enough.'
He waited to see how Grace would respond to that. She shrugged and said, 'Maybe.' He wondered what that was supposed to mean. Probably that he hadn't convinced her, but she was too polite to say so. She didn't always come out and say what she thought. Cincinnatus had already noticed that.
He asked, 'You going to visit your folks while you're here? Only one flight up.'
Grace shook her head. 'Not much point. They don't want to see us.'
'Don't they want to see their grandbaby?' Cincinnatus pointed to Karen.
His son answered: 'I'm not Chinese. I'm just a spook.' His voice was harsh and cold.
'That's not quite fair,' Grace said. 'They wouldn't like it if you were white, either.'
'Well, maybe not,' Achilles admitted. 'They don't quite hate me, the way I've seen some white men do. They can make themselves be polite. I even used to think they were pretty nice, till the two of us started getting serious. But they sure don't want you to be married to me, and the baby hasn't made 'em change their minds about that.'
His wife sighed. 'I know. It's sad. They came to America to find a better life than they could have had in China. They got one, too. But they're still Chinese first and American afterwards.'
'We came here to Iowa to get a better life, too,' Cincinnatus said. 'I'm glad I'm livin' in the United States and not in the Confederate States no more- 'specially nowadays. God help the poor niggers in the CSA nowadays.'
Achilles and Grace left a little later. Cincinnatus walked to the stairway with them, hoping they would change their mind and go upstairs to visit the Changs after all. But they didn't. They went down to the street, carrying the baby with them. He sighed and went back to the apartment. Elizabeth's raised eyebrows asked a question. Cincinnatus shook his head.
His wife sighed. 'That's so sad, they cut off from half their family. Don't seem right. Don't seem right at all. You ain't got family, you ain't got nothin'.'
'And the baby's so cute,' Amanda said. 'How can you not love a little baby?'
Cincinnatus smiled. 'You love everybody, honey.' That was true. Amanda was a sweet-natured child. Because she liked almost everyone, she thought everybody should like everybody else. And if all the people in the world had been like her, everybody would have. Sooner or later, though, she would have to realize not everyone worked the way she did. Cincinnatus hoped she wouldn't get hurt too badly finding that out.
Elizabeth said, 'I reckon Grace's folks love the baby, all right. The one they got trouble with is your brother.'
Not even Amanda believed everybody ought to love Achilles. She loved him, yes, but sometimes even she had to work at it. Especially when she was smaller, he'd sometimes made her life miserable, as an older brother was only too likely to do with a younger sister.
The next morning, Cincinnatus gulped an extra cup of coffee before he hit the road. He stopped on the way to the railroad yards to buy a copy of the Herald-Express. As usual, he read the paper in snatches at stop signs and traffic lights, and not for the front-page stories but for the ones on the inside pages, the stories the editors-and most people in Des Moines-didn't think were so important.
Who in Des Moines, for instance, got excited about a page-three story whose headline said Kentucky state police disbanded? Kentucky had rejoined the USA before Houston had, and had been much less troublesome. But the Freedom Party had done very well in the last elections there, and this was the result.
How many comfortable Iowans knew the Kentucky State Police might better have been called the Kentucky Secret Police? The Kentucky State Police had been the instrument the USA used to make sure the state stayed loyal to Philadelphia. Cincinnatus knew Luther Bliss, the head of the outfit, all too well. Just thinking of Bliss' light brown eyes, the color of a hunting dog's, was enough to make him break out in a cold sweat. He'd spent a couple of years in prison on account of the Kentucky State Police.
And now they were disbanding? Cincinnatus whistled softly. 'Do Jesus!' he muttered. 'Who hold that state down?' And what would happen to their longtime head, who'd spent a generation stomping on everything the Freedom Party stood for? Would the new winners in Kentucky hang him from a lamp post?
Cincinnatus got his answer to that in the very next paragraph. State Police Chief Luther Bliss, the story said, is on a fact-finding trip to Pennsylvania, and was unavailable for comment. When Cincinnatus saw that, he chuckled grimly. Bliss was either lucky or-giving him credit no less real for being reluctant-sly to have escaped Kentucky when his foes grabbed hold of the reins.
President Smith is conferring with the Secretary of War and the Secretary of the Interior about the present situation in Kentucky, the story continued. A statement from Philadelphia is expected within the next few days.
Would the U.S. government send more troops to Kentucky to force the state to rescind what it had done? Or would it send enough soldiers to hold things down without the Kentucky State Police? The only thing Cincinnatus couldn't imagine the administration doing was nothing. After all, Kentucky's southern border was also the USA's southern border these days.
Behind Cincinnatus, a horn blared. He jumped and put the truck in gear. He'd been reading and woolgathering while traffic piled up. He would have honked, too, if someone else did something like that.
He didn't get to finish the story, then, till he stopped at another red light. When he did, ice ran through him, for the last sentence read, Governor Ruby Laffoon pledges to make good on a campaign promise to explore a plebiscite on whether Kentucky should belong to the United States or to the Confederate States.
'They can't do that!' Cincinnatus exclaimed. He hoped they couldn't, anyhow. His father and mother still lived in Covington. If the Stars and Bars replaced the Stars and Stripes… He shivered, though the day was warm and muggy, even so early in the morning. 'Got to git them out o' there.' For Negroes, what nightmare could be worse than returning to the CSA with the Freedom Party in the saddle?
IX
The Manitoba prairie seemed to roll on forever. Above, puffy white clouds drifted across the blue sky. Mary Pomeroy watched a hawk circle in lazy spirals high overhead. The hawk would be watching, too, for rabbits or gophers. To it, a picnic on a farm wouldn't mean a thing.
Mary couldn't watch the hawk for long. She had to watch her own son like a hawk. Alexander Arthur Pomeroy's first birthday was the occasion for the picnic. He'd just figured out how to put one foot in front of him without falling down, which made him all the more dangerous to himself. Alexander didn't know that, of course. To him, walking was the most wonderful thing in the world.
Something went into his mouth. Mary tossed the drumstick she'd been gnawing onto a plate and grabbed her son. 'What have you got there?' she said sharply.
'Mama!' Alexander said. Then, as her forefinger snaked into his mouth, he let out an indignant wail. Something there… She fished it out-a blade of grass. Not so bad, she thought, wiping her hand on her checked skirt. She'd taken a used match and a dead fly out of his mouth at one time or another. She didn't want to think about the things he might have swallowed. None of them seemed to have done him any harm, anyhow.
Maude McGregor watched her daughter with a faint smile on her face. 'I don't know how many times I had to do that with you,' she said. 'Then there was the pearl button I found in your diaper.'
'Was there?' Mary said, and her mother nodded. Mary glanced toward her husband. Mort Pomeroy was doing
