"Niall Gallagher."
Niall extended his hand, shaking hands with the two political candidates seated on either side of the long dining table. Surrounded by their entourages, their distinct differences were immediately obvious.
"Robert West."
"Daniel Boone."
The two candidates stood and shook Niall's hand. A staffer seated at the corner tactfully got up and even took his own plate away, making room for Niall. He would now have to eat standing up—his seat belonged to Niall now.
Aunt Gingy brought Niall a clean plate and a bowl of hot soup. It was already November in West Virginia, and the temperature had dropped to around ten degrees Celsius, sometimes even lower. After running around outside, a sip of hot soup helped to warm him up.
Raising the chair back, Niall sat down directly across from the two candidates. But he wasn't in a hurry to speak. He simply sipped his soup—his cheeks still stinging from the cold wind outside. He needed to warm up first. Cousin Patrick, even more indifferent, stood up and grabbed the wine bottle sitting near the candidates, pouring himself a glass without a second thought.
The candidates had assumed that Niall, being a mere 21-year-old, would be easy to pressure and manipulate. They hadn't expected this level of calm composure. Or, to be less charitable, slipperiness and cunning. He was clearly waiting for them to speak first—playing a game of "if the enemy doesn't move, I won't move."
The atmosphere grew tense and quiet. The only sounds were those of Aunt Gingy and sister-in-law Campbell clattering dishes in the kitchen, and the soft footsteps of Debbie, who walked by carrying plates and glancing at the others.
Debbie brought out a pot of stew. Niall glanced at it—it was the usual potato-based fare. Filling, yes, but eating it every day was tough. There might've been carrots and onions in it too. Patrick got up to serve himself some stew. Niall noticed that it also had beans.
"Want some bread?" Normally, the Gallaghers didn't eat bread at home. It was all potatoes and porridge.
But now, with two "rich suckers" footing the bill, everything was available. The town bakery had been open for decades, and their bread was quite good.
Patrick tore off a piece of bread for Niall to dip in his soup. Niall accepted it and glanced at the two candidates. Both were quietly sipping their wine.
"I understand the reason for your visit, and I believe you're also aware of what we small farmers want. Do you have anything to say?" Niall finally spoke.
At his words, the two candidates simultaneously set down their wine glasses. This was what they'd been waiting for—Niall making the first move. Politicians don't fear demands; they fear silence. Nothing in politics is real except the exchange of interests.
"With a million farmers in West Virginia, if they all applied for relief, we'd be talking about twenty or thirty million dollars," said Republican Robert first.
"Such an enormous sum—Congress is unlikely to approve it," said Democrat Daniel calmly.
"Where there's a will, there's a way. It just depends on whether you want to make it happen." Niall tore the bread into pieces and soaked it in the hot soup.
Though he made no specific request, his expression spoke volumes. A federal government with an annual income of over ten billion dollars can't spare a measly twenty or thirty million? That's just an excuse. America, with its vast wealth—even during a depression—had nothing to fear.
As the world's largest creditor nation since World War I, with half the globe's gold flowing into its banks, the U.S. had a GDP that dwarfed the economies of Japan, Korea, and Taiwan combined.
To say they couldn't afford a few million dollars? Ridiculous.
"Midterm elections are right around the corner. You two might want to think carefully," Niall said with a smile, picking up his spoon and eating his soup-soaked bread.
That was all he had to say—nothing more, nothing less. One of them held executive power, the other held public support. All he was asking for was some temporary relief. President Hoover had no problem greenlighting the Hoover Dam in Nevada just to boost his poll numbers there—that was clearly public power used for private gain.
So why pretend to be high and mighty? If it's a deal, then treat it like a deal. Don't preach at me.
It's not like Niall was personally asking them for money. He was giving them a chance to win the favor of a million Irish-descended farmers in West Virginia. Yet they were acting like he was the one begging them for help, instead of the other way around.
This should be a mutually beneficial exchange. Farmers get a bit of cash assistance, and the politicians gain votes and support. Win-win. Why wouldn't they agree?
"Dinner was quite hearty," Robert the Republican said with a smile, dabbing his mouth with a napkin before rising to leave.
Democrat Daniel said nothing. He merely nodded politely at Niall and followed suit. Neither man left any commitments behind. It was as if the meeting had never happened.
Moments later, the cars outside started up one by one. Their lights flashed in the dark, engines rumbling as they disappeared into the night.
"What do they mean by that?" Patrick asked, still not full. He didn't mind eating leftovers and was preparing to clean the table.
"Have you all eaten yet?" Niall didn't answer directly but instead asked if the rest of the family had had dinner.
Aunt Gingy and the others sat down, quietly eating bread and soup. Judging from their expressions, they were just as curious about what the candidates were planning.
"In the end, it's still the Republicans in charge..." Niall pushed aside his empty plate and, unusually, poured himself a glass.
The Republican Party had held power for decades and enjoyed a massive advantage in American politics. Even after Roosevelt took office, the Supreme Court—stacked with Republican judges—frequently struck down his proposals as unconstitutional.
Truthfully, if Republicans were willing, a few tens of millions in temporary aid would be nothing. What Robert really needed was to win the election and remain a Congressman. He wouldn't bat an eye at using federal funds to buy votes.
Now that he saw Niall wasn't a gullible kid, Robert would certainly push the matter within the GOP and try to get Hoover's approval. If successful, it would boost his popularity so much that, as they say, "they could run a watermelon in his place and still win."
Daniel, on the other hand, didn't dare make promises. The GOP still held overwhelming control of Congress, while Democrats were limited to just a few dozen seats. Even with rising support due to the Depression, the Democrats still lacked majority control in either chamber.
Unfortunately, without Senate and House approval, it would be nearly impossible to pass such a large spending bill. Better to back off temporarily than lose all credibility with local voters. Sometimes retreat is the best path to a comeback.