Orson Card - THE CRYSTAL CITY

Lincoln was in the middle of a story. "So Coz says to me, Abe, isn't the front of the raft supposed to point downriver? And I says to Coz, And so it is. And he says to me, No, Abe, that's the front. And he pointed upstream, which made no sense at all. Well, now, that kind of illogic always riles me, not a lot, just a little, and I says, Now Coz, that was the front of the raft this morning, I agree, but wasn't it us decided which end of the raft was front? And therefore are we not entitled to change our minds and designate a new front, as circumstances change?"

Now Verily hardly knew what the story was about, and he certainly did not know this Coz fellow Abe was talking about. But when the people in that store laughed-which they did about every six words, on average-he couldn't help but join in. It wasn't just what Lincoln said, it was how he said it, such a dry manner, and willing to make himself the fool of the story, but a fool with a sort of deeper wit about him.

What was most interesting to Verily, though, was the way Lincoln fit with the other folks in that room. There was not a soul there who had even the slightest friction between him and Lincoln. They all fit with him like a bosom friend. And yet he couldn't be best friends with every one of them. A man doesn't have time to make more than a couple of friends so close and dear that they don't envy you when you do well or scorn you when you do badly or become irritated with you for any number of little habits you have.

It went way beyond being likable. Verily had met a few who had something of a knack for that-you find them rather thick on the ground in the lawyering profession-and he found that no matter how good their knack was, when you weren't with them, you were really angry at being taken in, and even when you were in that spell, some of that anger remained with you. Verily would sense it, but it wasn't there. No, these people weren't being hoodwinked, and Lincoln wasn't doing it by some sort of hidden power. He was just telling stories, and they were enjoying both the tale and the teller.

It didn't take Verily Cooper much time to notice all this-it was his knack, after all. The story continued and Lincoln showed no sign of noticing that Verily Cooper was there.

"Now Coz, he thinks about this-so he's holding really still, because you know when Coz is thinking, it kind of uses up his whole body, unless he has gas-and finally he says to me, Abe, I used to think that way myself, only I found that no matter what you call it, you got to put your legs into the top of your trousers first."

It took some of them a couple of moments to get the joke, but the thing is, they all knew they were going to get it and that the joke wasn't meant to exclude them. Verily found himself liking Lincoln, not just the instinctive liking that came by reflex, but also the liking that comes when you've understood something about a fellow and you admire the thing you understood. Abraham Lincoln doesn't put himself above anybody, but he doesn't lower himself to do it.

"But here we are ignoring our visitor," said Lincoln. "A new fellow, and a lawyer, would be my guess, and so eager to shop at Cheaper's that he hasn't looked for a room or brushed down his clothes."

"Or stabled my horse," said Verily. "But I have urgent business that couldn't wait for such niceties."

"And yet you came to Cheaper's and listened to my story about Coz and me on the river. You must come from a town even smaller than Springfield, if my tale caused you enough wonder to keep you from your business."

"No sir," said Verily Cooper. "Because you're Abraham Lincoln, and my business is to talk to you."

"Please don't tell me I've got another creditor I didn't know about."

There was still laughter from the others, but it was rueful- and a bit wary. They didn't want ill things to happen to Mr. Lincoln.

In fact, one of the ladies spoke up. "If your client thinks that Mr. Lincoln won't pay his debts, he can rest assured, Old Abe never leaves a debt unpaid."

"Which I mostly accomplish by never borrowing," said Lincoln.

"Never borrowing for yourself, you mean," said the lady. A lady considerably older than Lincoln, but Verily ruled out the possibility that she was related to him. No, she had probably come here simply to buy something.

"Mr. Lincoln, my name is Verily Cooper, and we have a friend in common-Alvin Smith, whom I believe you met on a trip down the Mizzippy not more than a couple of weeks ago."

"A good man," said Lincoln-but added nothing more.

"What," said one of the men. "No story about this Smith fellow?"

Lincoln grinned. "Why, you know I don't tell stories on other folks, only on myself." He strode toward Verily and offered a hand. "I'm pleased to meet you, Mr. Cooper. Though I got to fess that's a strange name for a lawyer."

"I was raised to be a cooper," said Verily, "and when the lawyering business is slow, I can always support myself by making a keg or two."

"Whereas my family could never get over the shire they came from back in England," said Lincoln. "Which, judging from your speech, is where you're from."

"I am, but a citizen of this country now," said Verily. "We're none of us very far from the boats that brought our people over."

"Well, I'm eager to talk to you," said Lincoln, "but I'm the clerk of this store right now, working for Mr. and Mrs. Cheaper, and I've been keeping these poor customers waiting for their purchases while I listened to myself talk. Can you wait your business for a half hour?"

Verily could, and did. In fact, he used the half hour to get his horse stabled and fed, and when he returned, there were no customers in the shop. Lincoln did not look so jovial now.

"Mr. Cooper," he said, "there ain't been time for good news to get from Barcy to here, but I heard some bad stories about yellow fever breaking out there. I hope you're not here to tell me that Alvin or his young friend with the royal name has took sick."

"Best of health, as far as I know," said Verily.

"Also there's a strange tale came upriver on a steamboat and got included in the daily lie collection known as the Springfield Democrat. About all the slaves in Barcy walking on water and the Spanish Army coming upriver to fetch them back. I got to say, some folks-the ones foolish enough to believe a tale like that-are now worried that Spain is going to invade Springfield, and I've been trying to get Mr. Cheaper to order some Spanish grammars to get us ready for the occupation, but he won't do it."

"And you guessed that Alvin had something to do with this exodus."

"I hoped," said Lincoln. "Because if a man's going to get in trouble, it ought to be in a good cause, and Alvin has that air about him, that whatever he does, somebody's going to be mad at him for doing it."

"I came here because he needs some help, and you're the only person we could think of who might be able to handle it."

"Well, I'll help him if I can. I owe him something, you know."

"That's not why we're asking," said Verily. "This isn't a debt, because whatever you think you might owe him, what he's asking is way bigger."

"What could be bigger than saving my life?"

"The lives of five or six thousand French folks and former slaves, who have no place of safety to which they can repair in their time of trouble."

"I can put up three of them in my room over the tavern, but not one more, and that's if they don't mind getting stepped on if somebody has to get up in the night to use the privy."

"They're coming up the river and they need a place that will take them in and protect them. Alvin's wife, Margaret Larner-you may have heard of her..."

"Highly thought of among abolitionists," said Lincoln, "though not by those who think the only way to free the slaves is by war."

"Margaret is, as you may also have heard, a torch."