Gordon Ryan - State of Rebellion

Despite his grief, Dan could not shake his thoughts about the disastrous military confrontation on Friday, which perhaps was a blessing in disguise, since it allowed Dan to defer his mourning to a more private time. The funeral had been planned for Tuesday, but no one had fully anticipated the military turn of events that had taken place in Sacramento.

Notwithstanding the speed with which the opposing military forces had disengaged, the growing civil unrest and violence in major urban centers brought the governor to the necessity of declaring martial law. In Los Angeles, San Francisco, Fresno, and several other communities throughout the state, federal installations and buildings had become the target of siege by citizens who were inflamed by the Battle of Capital Mall. Emboldened by the erroneous information that the casualties in the 82 ndAirborne Division came as a result of SMR strength-these feelings having been stimulated by a few well-placed militia instigators-public fervor had brought these communities to riot conditions. The race war flared again, and the basic criminal element surfaced to take advantage of chaos in the light of the inability of local law enforcement to maintain order. Curfew had been placed in effect from dusk to dawn.

Colonel Harman, acting in General Del Valle’s stead, directed the SMR and Highway Patrol to concentrate in troubled areas, trying his best to bring order out of chaos. But riots continued through the weekend, and it quickly became apparent that order intended to resist birth, and chaos had no intention of accepting Last Rites.

Tuesday morning at ten o’ clock, a public viewing of Jack Rumsey’s remains was held in the lobby of the Yolo County courthouse by request of the governor and with the approval of the Yolo County Board of Supervisors, where Jack had once served two terms before being elected to the state legislature.

Dan had once read that the older one was when death came, the fewer associates remained alive to attend the funeral. Jack Rumsey, however, had apparently made an impact on the next generation as well, as hundreds of Woodland residents came to offer their condolences. Matilda Westegaard stood with Dan and Mrs. Rawlings for a few moments, and Dan had occasion, once again, to see a tear in her eye. Notwithstanding the immediacy of state affairs, even Governor Dewhirst came to pay his respects to Dan and his mother, appearing without protocol and saying nothing publicly. He stayed only for a few minutes before immediately returning the twenty-five miles to the Capital.

Perhaps the most surprising visitor at the viewing was Colonel Pug Connor. Dan had met Connor only twice, and the discovery that Nicole was somehow involved in his work was, to Dan’s mind, one of several continuing revelations about this remarkable woman who had come to play such a large role in his life. In departing the courthouse, Connor asked if it would be possible to meet with Dan the following day, privately, in Dan’s Davis apartment. With advance warning from Nicole, Dan had given thought to the practicality of such a meeting, dreading a repeat of how Senator Turner had taken advantage of his naivete. But with Nicole’s assurance that Connor could be trusted, Dan agreed.

By one o’clock, the small entourage had driven the twelve miles to the tiny country cemetery in Esparto, west of Woodland at the head of Rumsey Valley. By request of Mrs. Rawlings, only immediate family members were present, including Dan’s sister and their father, both of whom, after a phone call from Dan, had flown back to the States from New Zealand. A few of Jack’s Shriner colleagues attended as well, along with the officiator who performed a portion of the ceremony. Standing at the graveside, breathing in the pungent aroma of almond orchards, dusty fields, and fragrant blossoms-Rumsey Valley ambiance-Dan experienced a flood of memories.

As he listened to the local minister recount Jack’s life and his contributions to the valley, he envisioned those early days when the Rumsey family, along with dozens of other families, had fought to tame the land-first to provide a living for their families, and then to develop a thriving enterprise.

Nicole stood close to Dan, her arm linked with his as they watched Jack’s flag-covered casket lower into the ground beside his beloved Ellen. The small military honor guard from the Woodland Veterans of Foreign Wars detachment folded and presented the flag to Dan’s mother as Jack’s next of kin. Moments earlier, the honor guard had shattered the peace of the valley by firing three volleys from their seven rifles, in honor of Jack’s naval service to his country during World War II. Protectively aware of his mother standing next to him, Dan breathed deeply and raised his face slowly, scanning the foothills encasing the valley-hills he had roamed as a boy, hills where Jack had taught him to identify the flora and fauna of the valley and tutored him in so many other ways.

His eyes rising higher to the light cloud cover that Jack had always watched in earnest, searching for rain, Dan struggled to retain his composure as this phase of his life concluded. So much of his life was changing in such a short time. Echoes of the violent events of the previous day were reverberating in every city and town in California. Repercussions would haunt them all for weeks and months to come. But for the moment, Dan, along with his mother and father, his sister Kate and her husband, and Nicole, stood silently as the patriarch of the Rumsey family was laid to rest. Tomorrow would be soon enough to re-enter the conflict-to continue the fight that Jack had so adamantly insisted Dan pursue. Dan gave silent thanks that Jack had been spared the necessity of watching his country move toward dissolution after his eighty-four years of working and fighting to establish Rumsey Valley-Jack’s small contribution to the whole.

Leaving his mother’s side for a moment, Dan stepped toward the grave and tossed a small assortment of flowers onto the casket, now in its final resting place beside Ellen.

“I love you, Jack,” Dan whispered. “God rest your soul.”

Davis, California

Dan woke to the insistent ringing of the telephone on his night table, startled by its intensity and surprised that he had actually slept, soundly it seemed, for at least the past few hours. In spite of the turmoil and lack of sleep over the past few days, he had been unable to drop off the previous night, and the last recollection he had was of the numbers on his digital clock reading 2:33. They now read 6:45.

“Hello,” he answered groggily.

“Dan? It’s Jean Waters. Sorry to wake you so early, but I knew you’d be busy and probably would leave quickly. Got a moment?”

“Sure, Jean. How’ve you been?”

“Probably better than you, Dan. Please accept my sympathy on the loss of your grandfather. When I called your office yesterday, they advised me of the family tragedy.”

“Thank you, Jean,” Dan said, sitting up in bed and sliding his legs over the side.

“Dan, I wanted to let you know that Voices in My Blood is going into a fourth printing. Over 400,000 copies on the shelves, and more importantly, most of those are already in homes. I’m really sorry to have to approach you with business at such a time, but we’ve received a firm offer from MiraMax for film rights. Five million, Dan-fifty percent of which will be yours.”

Dan paused. “Jean, if you think it’s a good offer and the best we’ll get, I’ll trust your judgment. I’ve got to leave that to you for awhile. I’m sorry if I’m not as engaged as I should be, but-”

“Not to worry, Dan. I understand. If that’s agreeable to you, I’ll accept and FedEx you the contract.”

“That’ll be fine. Send it to my legislative office. I’ll be spending most of my time there for the next several weeks.”