"I realize that you ain't no little girl, but Laura I would have liked to have known."

Papa had, for the first time since they had gotten on the steamer, sought her out. She had been ironing and folding clothes when Gid came bursting in the laundry room telling her Papa had to speak to her right now. She had dropped what she was doing and rushed right to the boiler room. There had been no need to rush.

"There was already plenty to worry about." And there was nothing he could do about it. That was what she didn't say, but when he looked away, his jaw tight, she knew he had heard the unspoken words. But unlike before, it wasn't something that she meant. At least not unkindly.

"Papa—,"

"That's what he said."

"He?"

"Sam."

"You talked to Sam?" Why had her voice gone high like that? She looked away when she felt Papa's dark gaze settle on her face.

"I talk to Sam every now and then," his voice was quiet even though they were the only two people in the small boiler room. It was hot. The boiler might not have been going, but the heat it gave off filled the small room still. Because they were stopped in Kentucky, all of them as usual were keeping to enclosed places.

"Am I 'bout to lose you before I ever had you?" He laughed, but there was no humor in his voice.

"Papa, Sam and I are not... anythin'," Laura said slowly, feeling more than a little flushed.

"Yet." His voice was dry and matter of fact. "Listen, Laura, you pay careful attention to that white man, that Alex—,"

"Adam. And I am. Every other day I go through his things."

"Alright. Stay sharp. Stay alert. We didn't get this far to have to go back now."

"Papa?"

"Yes?"

"I'm assumin' you've prayed on this. All of it... the escapin' and everythin'?

"Yes," he said, giving her a wary look.

"Then until the Lord tells us otherwise, sufficient for today is the evil thereof. We'll just pray that he provides us with a warnin' if need be and leave it at that." The words came out of her mouth, but really they were Sam's words. She felt Papa's gaze on her and she glanced up at him. She shrugged when he continued to stare. "What?"

"Nothin'. Sound like your mama, though," he said. His voice gruff with emotion. And when he wouldn't meet her eyes, she felt her own get blurry. "You've always been very independent," he said, his voice sounding almost hoarse.

"No," Laura said with a shake of her head. "I've always relied on others to do my thinkin' for me. Figured I would try to rely on God this time."

Laura left the overheated boiler room a few minutes later but was waylaid before she reached the stairs by a familiar grip on her arm. "Sam." She said his name with a smile before turning around.

"Not Sam." Manny said, pulling her under the stairs.

"What do you want?" The question was rude, but it was Manny, so Laura did not care.

"I'm worried about Sam." There was no humor in Manny's voice.

Laura felt her heart begin to race. "Has somethin' happened?"

Manny stopped talking, blinked at her.

"So, nothin' has happened then?" Laura jerked her arm out of his hand. "Don't you worry about Sam. I'm lookin' after him." She made for the stairs again, giving Manny her back.

"Laura." Manny's voice was quiet. Polite. She paused. "For my brother, I am askin' that you be... you."

"Me?"

"Know everythin' there is to know about everythin'."

"I am tryin'," Laura said with a sigh. "But we're really just goin' to have to trust God with all of this, Man."

"My name is Manny. And if I had wanted preachin' to, I would be talkin' to Sam."

Laura turned to face him, wrinkled her nose. "It's the only answer I have for you, Manny. I'll do my best. You can trust me on that. But I can't be everywhere at all times. 'Sides, Sam is many things, stupid ain't one of 'em."

Manny raised an eyebrow and Laura was struck anew by how handsome he was. How handsome Sam was. "My brother is a... what's the word for a saint dyin'?"

"Martyr?" Laura said the word, slowly, unsure if that was what he was shooting for.

"That. That's what he is. Anythin' can happen when you live with a saint destined for saintliness. You don't know what it's like. You think it's easy bein' with Sam. Why, this one time—," Manny cut off as singing filled the air.

"Crossin' over River Jordan," the words were sung strong and low. And familiar. "Hey, Manny. Hey, Laura."

It was Will. He shot both Laura and Manny a brilliant smile of slightly yellow teeth.

Laura gave him a small wave as he passed by them. "I can't believe you're such good friends with a man who sings all the time."

"It is a surprise to me too. If I think about it too much, I have to fight the urge to strangle him. And then I want to say, 'let's see if you can sing now, Will.'"

Laura sighed. "Manny."

"Keep an eye on him for me, Laura. If he looks to be preparin' to do somethin' stupid, come and get me."

Laura couldn't help but point to herself. "You trust me?"

Manny looked away, scratching at his neck. "I trust how you feel about him. I don't think it's real. But I think you think it's real."

"Bye. Man." She made sure to emphasize the shortened name.

"Have a good day now, Laura." It was the polite way he said it that made Laura grin widely and roll her eyes though she was careful not to let him see it.

Laura returned to the laundry room leaving once and only once and that was when the steamer had started again headed, finally, towards Tennessee. She had gone to find one of her brothers, Sol this time, and made him make sure that Sam was back on the steamer. Sol had returned with half a piece of peppermint in his mouth.

"Sam bought you that?" Laura had asked, nodding towards his mouth.

Sol slowly shook his head. And then nodded. "Well, yes. But Gid and I gave him the coin for it."

"The money," Laura gently corrected. "How much money?"

Sol eyed her for a second. And then shrugged. She had tried to teach him and Gid the differences in coin money but it was a bit difficult when she only had access to pennies. It wasn't like it was safe to pull out anything bigger on the boat.

"We should have brung you a piece."

"Brought me a piece. And why should you? It's your money. Ya'll earned it."

"You're always bringin' us stuff, though," Sol had muttered.

"Sol." She had reached out, squeezed his shoulder. And then leaned down, whispering in his ear. "I don't like peppermint." He had given her a look then. Shook his head as though she lied. "I once stole a whole bowl full off of Master Richard's desk. Prince told on me and I got the beaten' of my life."

Sol's nose wrinkled then. "Prince told?" To be fair, Prince had caught her the same time as Master Richard. She had been about eight and he about eleven. He had tossed her into the fire in an effort to make himself look better compared to her. The little monster. Knowing that she would never see him again in this life had made her glamorize Prince, but there had been reasons why she spent most of her days avoiding him if she could. "They string you up?" His question was quiet, and a strain of fear ran through it.

"No. Miss Martha beat me with the broom." Until she couldn't get up if she tried. Mama had had to come and get her. "I don't eat peppermint. Now or ever."

"Laura."

Laura looked up now, dazed and confused and for a second lost in her memories. She blinked. She was in the laundry room. On the Thomas Paine. "Birdie."

Birdie entered the room with a pile of sheets. They did not wash everyone's bedsheets every day, but somehow the sheet washing never ended. Birdie started talking, filling the space with words that Laura was not paying any attention to. She shook her head slowly, letting go past bygones. Staying there would only leave her paralyzed in more ways than one. No. She needed to focus on the here and now. The long and short of it was, she needed to figure out who this Mary Stiles woman was. Sam couldn't do it. He didn't have access to white women the way she did. Lord, she prayed quietly, what would you do? But nothing came to her. All she knew was what Miss Martha would have done. And Miss Martha was the smartest woman Laura knew. Miss Martha would make a list of all the female passengers and go through their names one by one. She didn't know where she could get paper without stealing it. She didn't think it was stealing if she took from Salis House. But she did think it was stealing if she took from the passengers on the steamer. What to do?

"What's got you sighin' so deeply over there? Don't tell me," Birdie said quickly. "It's Sam."

"Sam?"

"He sure is somethin'. Him and his brother. I never know which one to look at whenever I'm with the both of them. Sam's got that jaw, but Manny looks so handsome with that beard. Though I would be lyin' if I didn't say Manny is a bit frightenin' sometimes. I never know if he's havin' a laugh at me or not."

"He probably is," Laura muttered under her breath.

"But that Sam." Birdie shook her head, a small smile on her face and Laura bit down on her tongue to keep from saying something cutting. She just couldn't win with the girl. "He puts me in mind of a verse from the good book Miss Bessie used to quote to me. "In repentance and rest is your salvation, in quietness and trust is your strength. That verse makes me think of Sam. And you, Laura. You're both quiet and strong."

Laura opened her mouth. Closed it. And settled on finally saying a very quiet, "Thank you, Birdie, though I think it applies more to Sam than me."

"No," she said with a shake of her head. "You too."

Laura didn't believe that was true for one moment as it related to her. But as to Sam? Truer words had never been spoken. She stood up abruptly.

"I've got to go get several ladies dressed for supper."

Laura left the laundry room, passed one of the staterooms, and paused. She couldn't write a list but she did know by now who was in what room. She could cross them off or leave them as a possibility that way. First thing tomorrow, she would take personal inventory. After all, a few ladies had left since she had first gotten on the steamer in Ohio and since been replaced. It couldn't be that hard to find a woman who had been on since at least Ohio and was essentially, alone. Mrs. Hartford was not the only one.

With that thought buoying her steps, Laura helped Mrs. Hartford dress for supper and then went to Daphne and Lucinda's room.

"Papa says the Compromise isn't going to work. He thinks we'll go to war before long."

"Papa this, Papa that. Don't you ever stop for one second and use the brain God gave you?"

For once, the girls were bickering about something interesting, Laura thought as she went to their closet and pulled out the two dresses they had asked her to iron that morning.

"I also read the papers!"

"I asked you to help me think of something smart to say at supper and you say to talk about slavery? Why not bring up religion too while I'm at it?"

Daphne sent Lucinda a cutting look that even Laura couldn't miss as she helped Lucinda step into her taffeta gown.

"If you don't want my opinion Lucinda Mary Stillwood, don't ask for it."

Laura's fingers froze in the act of stringing up Lucinda's corset. No. It couldn't be that easy. But Lucinda had gotten on the boat in Ohio, same as Laura.

"Is something wrong, Laura?" Lucinda asked. Or was she Mary? Mary Stiles.

"Nothin's wrong. Sorry, ma'am," she said, her fingers returning to the familiar pattern even as her brain continued racing.

Lucinda Mary Stillwood. Mary Stiles. Was it possible?


"How many times did he let you fire the gun?" Sam and Manny were tucked in a corner of the steamer, sitting on the lower deck unraveling knots in a rope that might later be needed. And eating the caramel. It had been quite the burst of flavor in Sam's mouth: rich, creamy, sugary. This was what freedom tasted like. He couldn't wait to taste the peppermint.

"Too many times to count," Sam said unable to keep the grin off his face. "He just kept loadin' it up until I was able to hit the target." The last target had been an empty bottle that Adam had produced from somewhere. It had taken a few shots and Sam couldn't deny that a powerful part of him was nervous about shooting in front of Adam; that part of him that was always slightly fearful that if he didn't do what he was supposed to do the way he was supposed to do it he would be strung up yet again. But then Adam had pulled out a small notebook and pencil and when Sam was certain his thoughts were elsewhere, his shooting had gotten better.

"Was it hard?"

"At first. A bit. But then, not so hard." Like most things in life. Sam was sure that if he could practice regular-like, he would be a first-rate shooter. "I'll teach you. When we make it to Oklahoma."

"Been thinkin' 'bout that." Sam said nothing, just moved the piece of caramel around in his mouth, savoring it. "Don't want to farm, Sam. I don't want to bend over and be at the mercy of the hot sun. I don't." Manny's voice was quiet, but firm.

"Same. Though it might be different if it were our own farm."

Manny nodded slowly. "It would be different. But. Benji was talkin' to me about his and Amos's smithy. And I... well... maybe we could open a store or somethin'? Folks always need stuff and we've got enough money to buy some land and build a place. This hard labor? That's for the birds, Sam."

"It's a fine idea, Manny." And it was. But the thought of never working out in the sun was almost too hard for Sam to contemplate. He would pull those thoughts out and think about them when it made sense too. Like when they were off the steamer. It shamed him a bit that he had a relationship with Jesus and could hardly dare to think good things about his future. It was one thing—and it had been hard then—when the future was just 'one day,' it was quite another when the future was almost within his grasp. Sam knew himself well enough to know when he falling into one of his moods where in spite of life happening around him, everything still looked dark. The candy melting in his mouth was starting to not taste as sweet. Lord, help my unbelief.

"When we learn to read better, we could order stock and no one would know we was Negro. So, they wouldn't deny us. That's what I was thinkin'. Specially if we learn to write." Sam just gave a small nod. Manny's words were small, tight and Sam realized it was hard too for him to think that big. "I understand."

Manny gave him a small nod. They wouldn't talk about it no more. But at least they now had a bit of a plan. "While you were out playin' around I did some serious thinkin'." Sam thought thinking about their future was serious thinking.

"'Bout?"

"Our last name. We ain't gonna be no river, no lake, no grass."

"Yeah, I figured that one," Sam said dryly, rolling his eyes. Manny never just let anything go.

"Day."

"Day, what?"

"That's our name. You're Samuel Day and I'm Manning Lucas Day." Day. As in a day in a week. It was very simple and practically meaningless. Which wasn't exactly a bad thing. He didn't love it, but Sam was not unaware that his recent actions had very much stressed his brother out. If Manny had found some relief in picking their last name, Sam wasn't about to fight him on it. Even if Day, in his mind, was just another thing like River. And since when did Manny have a third name?

"Lucas for mama? Cause her name is Lucilla?"

"Yes."

"Then I'm Samuel Lucian Day." He'd heard that name somewhere before: Lucian.

Manny stuck out a hand and they shook on it. And you would think a little thing like adding on to your name wouldn't have much of an effect. Except it did. Sam felt like he knew who he was now. He wasn't Sam from Kentucky of a tobacco farm. He was Samuel Lucian Day. And he even had a birthday. Then Manny stood up. "I've got to go check on that cargo they just loaded. I heard tell they might move it around cause of its weight or somethin'. Mississippi gettin' smaller. We'll eat the peppermint candy tomorrow."

Sam gave his brother a quick nod and went back to the rope, tangled in his thoughts, which were darker than usual in spite of the fact that his future seemed like a good one. He unraveled three ropes before he realized what it was. He could lose it. All of it. In a split second. And be hauled right back to the never-ending tobacco plants. He recognized the thoughts for what they were: fear, anxiety, doubt... gifts from ole Satan himself. But he couldn't seem to shake them. Lord, help. The prayer didn't pass his lips but was no less poignant. He was now replaiting the ropes, paying no mind to the cuts inflicted on his fingers from the coarse fibers when Laura came and plopped down, right next to him. He watched as she pulled her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around her legs. She didn't say anything right away, so he took the time to take her in as she gazed out over the water even as his fingers continued to work. Her dark hair was pulled back as it so often was though little curly tendrils that had escaped her pinning danced in the wind. She held herself straight, unmoving, and yet there was that natural grace there that had first caught Sam's eye.

She turned her head, faced him, her eyes searching his for something though he didn't know what.

"Birdie told me a Bible verse today that I think sums you up perfectly. Almost as if God was thinkin' 'bout you himself when he wrote the words."

"Is that right?" Sam had to hear this. He wasn't sure what God thought about him. He knew in his mind that God loved him. He had sent his son to die for him. But it was a truth that he had to remind himself of often. There were days when it was an easy thing to remember and there were times like this when it was like holding a fish fresh out of the water.

"I can't remember the beginnin', but it said somethin' like in trust and quietness is your strength."

Sam felt himself deflate a little. Had it been anyone else, he would have known they were having fun at his expense, but the fact that it was Laura, made him think she didn't really know him at all. Which was even more disappointing. "There's very little that's strong about me." His words came out with more bitterness than he thought he had in him. But it was the truth. Sure and he was physically strong, but he had learned a long time ago that strength, real strength had nothing to do with the physical.

"Sam." He felt Laura turn her body towards him quickly.

"A man likes to think that if there's a problem, he can fix it, if there's somethin' comin' at him and his, he can face it and... ," Sam licked his lips, swallowed. He made sure he met Laura's eyes though it was hard to put himself down before a woman whose admiration he wanted. "I can't do any of those things for anyone that I love. I never have been." All he could do, all he had ever been able to do, was stand there. Like he had done when they took his mama away and that's all he would be able to do if they came for Manny. Or Laura.

He watched Laura blink a few times. "I hear what you're sayin' but your faith in God in the midst of everythin' is the strongest thing I've ever seen in my life." Laura's eyes had taken on a sheen, but she didn't look away from him. "And that is what makes you the strongest man I know."

"I have no control—,"

"Nobody does, Sam. They like to think they do, but they don't. Only God is in control. Where is this comin' from? Why are you, you of all people doubtin'?"

Why was he doubting? Because everything he wanted was almost within his grasp. But Laura was right. He wasn't in control. He never would be.

"We just have to trust the one who is in control, Sam," her words were whispered and heartfelt. He wasn't the only person who felt like they were at the mercy of others. He raised his hand, cupped her cheek, and wiped the few tears that trickled down away. She sniffed, but didn't move back. Instead, she leaned into his hand. "It's the hardest thing in this life, turnin' to God for direction, for answers, for safety. There's a psalm, I don't know which one, but it says He is our hiding place. We just have to believe He's our hiding place, Sam." Her voice broke then. Sam set aside the rope and pulled her into his arms, holding her tight. She wrapped her arms around his waist, her face buried in his chest. Sam leaned down touching the top of his head to hers.

But she wasn't finished yet. "I mean Sam, think about all the times you've prayed, all the times you've felt assurances in your heart that you were goin' the right place and doin' the right thing. Could you have imagined yourself here even a month ago? It's... we've just got to trust. And you'll probably have to remind me of this conversation in a few days, but that's fine so long as when we're down, one of us lifts the other up."

Sam's arms around her tightened. He was so used to being alone in his walk of faith. He loved his brother with every fiber of his being. But it got exhausting sometimes, being the spiritually strong one. "I think I needed to hear that," he said finally.

"Aw, Sam. You mean you're human?" He heard laughter in her voice.

"I don't think I ever said I wasn't," he replied, feeling more than a little indignant. He was all too human.

She lifted her head off his chest, pulling back so she could see his eyes. This time she raised her hand to his face, sliding it down his jaw to the back of his neck, and his heart, which was already racing, picked up even more speed. "You've always been pretty amazin' to me, Sam." Sam could hardly breathe, her words making him feel... like a man. They could have stayed like that forever, probably would have, if the steamer hadn't momentarily snagged on something tossing them a foot across the deck.

Men started yelling, people started moving.

Sam stood up, reached down, and helped Laura stand. He didn't let her hand go even when she got her bearing. "I better get back upstairs, but I wanted to tell you that. About the verse. I've been tryin' to hold onto those words all day so I wouldn't forget them. So I can look 'em up the next time I get my hands on a Bible."

"I've got one." The words came out quickly.

"You've got one what?"

"I've got a Bible. Me and Manny. We found it, kept it."

Laura gave him a look. "All this time on this boat and you never said anythin'?"

Sam shrugged, a small smile on his face. "Not like we can read it. We just hold onto it. We're used to keepin' it a secret." Because boat or no boat, Negroes reading was a dangerous thing.

"You'll show it to me when we get off?" Laura sounded exasperated, but there was a light in her eyes, and he noticed the slight twitching of her fingers where she hid her excitement.

Sam nodded, his smile growing. "And you can read it to me."

"I'm goin' to find that Bible verse about the quiet strength."

"Sounds like Isaiah." She sent him another look. "There was a reverend near the plantation I worked who read aloud from the Bible every Sunday morning for an hour. He was partial to Isaiah." Sam shrugged again. "I could be wrong though." Though he thought he had heard those words before.

Laura looked away for a second. This time she was smiling and then the smile left her face. She reached out, gripped his arm. "There was somethin' else I came to tell you. I think I found Mary Stiles, but Sam I need more information so that we can confirm it."


"Mary Stiles is Lucinda Stillwood?"

Adam said the words slowly, disbelieving. But apparently he knew who the woman was. Sam sure didn't.

"That's what I think," Sam said. He was in Adam's stateroom, his back against the wall while Adam sat at his desk next to Sam. "And that's not all."

"There's more?" Adam's eyes were wide and blinking.

"I heard Baldwin talkin' to that older man, that Mr. Cronwall." Sam told him quickly what he had overheard.

Adam leaned back in his chair, ran a hand through his hair. "Sam," Adam said with a slow exhale, before crossing his arms over his chest. "How?"

Sam pressed his lips together. "I just told you. I overheard them talkin' in the store."

"I mean, about Lucinda... about..."

"You have your secrets. I have mine." It was the boldest thing Sam had ever said to a white man. Sam was very limited in how he could protect Laura. But he could protect her in this way by leaving her name out of it and he would.

Adam nodded thoughtfully. "Toss those clothes off that chair and bring it over here so we can talk." Sam looked across the small room at the other wooden chair that was covered in jackets. He looked back at Adam. "Yes, Sam. Sit. Let's talk. You and I need to talk."

Sam walked over to the chair, cleared it, and set it next to the desk. But he hadn't been the only one moving things. The desk was clean now, except for a stack of cards.

"Can you play?" Adam asked, tapping the deck with his finger. Sam shook his head before glancing up at him once in question. "I'm going to teach you how to play poker, Sam. I think you'd be good at it. You've already got the poker face down pat."

"Poker face?" Sam asked as Adam lifted the deck of cards.

"An ability to hide your emotions. Poker is all about keeping your secrets to yourself and getting the other guy to talk first. There are four decks in a stack of cards..."

Sam listened intently as Adam explained first the cards themselves, and then the game of poker.

"The first game won't be a real game. We'll just play so you get a feel for it," Adam said, slowly dealing the cards.

Adam had been right, Sam thought, as he picked up his cards. There were things besides learning to read and write that made a body feel like a man. It was in the small things that you became a real person.

"What are we bettin'?" Sam asked to show he had been paying attention. And also feeling largely uncomfortable, asking a white man a question.

"Nothing of value," Adam said as he opened the drawer of the desk and pulled out a few buttons. He placed several in front of Sam and then a few in front of himself. "Wait, forgot something," Adam said and reached into his pocket. He pulled out what Sam recognized to be two thin cigarettes. Sam watched him clip both ends. "I'm assuming you've never smoked before?" Sam shook his head slowly as Adam pulled out a match, lit both, and handed one to Sam. He wasn't hardly going to deny the thing. "Don't inhale. Just fill your mouth with smoke and blow it out. Get it burning on its own."

It took a few minutes, and Sam found himself coughing a few times, but then white smoke started rising from the other end of the cigarette. Like Adam's. "Take it slow. Taste the tobacco. Savor it in your mouth."

For a second, Sam closed his eyes, taking his mind off of smoking to the flavor of the tobacco itself. He had nibbled on the tobacco plant, had gotten the scent of it on his clothes, on his fingers, felt it seeping into his skin. The earthy, grassy scent was one he had been familiar with for a long time. And for a second the taste in his mouth went sour. He would finish this cigarette, but he would never smoke again.

"Now, we can play," Adam said, setting his cigarette in a small tray and picking up his two cards. Sam did the same. They played in silence at first, Sam playing slowly, hesitantly. "How old are you, Sam?"

Sam looked up from his cards at Adam, but Adam's gaze stayed on the cards before him. "Twenty-one." Give or take a year.

Adam turned his head thoughtfully. "I thought you were older. I'm twenty-four."

Sam pressed his lips together, pushed a button to the center of the table. He could care less how old Adam was. Not when there were far more interesting things to find out. "Why are you doin' this alone?"

Adam looked at him then. "You mean solving this case?"

"Yes."

"I had a partner. He was supposed to get on with me back in Ohio but got sick the night before. Ate something bad. I wasn't going to let that stop me." Adam dealt three cards. "Do you have a family? I never thought to ask until I met your brother."

Sam said nothing for a minute, allowing silence to fill the room. Then, "My brother is my family."

"Mother and father?"

Sam felt his lips twist to the side. "Never met my pa. Haven't seen my... mother in nigh unto ten years."

"What happened?"

What did Adam think happened? Sam kept his gaze directly on his cards. "She was sold. You don't seem very good at this."

"Poker?"

"Detectin'." He shouldn't have said it. But Adam shouldn't have brought up his mama. He saw Adam wince. "You seem smarter is all and yet... ," he said, feeling a bit of anxiety at that sight of that wince.

"I'm finding out that just cause you can put two and two together doesn't mean you're good with people. And part of detecting is people. I thought I was going to get on this boat, be the best poker player, and learn all I need to know. Instead I had my... rear end handed to me on a silver platter and most folks step around me. It hasn't been pleasant. That's for sure. Someone is helping you, am I right?"

To this question, Sam shrugged.

Adam huffed out a laugh. Sam added another button to the pile. He rather liked this game.

"Oh, I've got something that'll break you. What is the difference between stabbing a man and killing a hog?"

Sam flicked his gaze to Adam for a second, but said nothing.

"One is assaulting with intent to kill; the other is killing with intent to salt. Do you get it?"

They played two more games that day. And a few more over the next couple days. Sam learned more than he wanted to about Adam. Adam was the youngest of three children, the only son. His father was an attorney. Adam had had to explain to Sam what an attorney was. Adam hoped to have a job that allowed him to travel and used his brain. Hence, the Pinkertons. Sam was also exposed to a series of jokes because Adam wanted to see him 'break character'. They were mostly not funny and Sam never laughed. That didn't stop Sam from sharing with Manny the few ones he remembered. Then, and only then did he allow himself to snicker a bit.

Sam lost most of the poker games they played though he was certain it was cause he lacked Adam's experience and not cause he couldn't play. But he won the game with the questions, cause while he never lied to Adam, he never told him anything that wasn't specific to a hundred slaves.

Meanwhile, Adam had a conversation with Captain Leahy about the safes on the steamer and what they stored, explaining something of the situation to him. He started, as he called it, paying court to Lucinda Stillwood, and he and Sam made plans to try to breakin to Baldwin's room upon reaching Missouri. Except Baldwin didn't get off at Missouri.

"If I didn't have bad luck, I wouldn't have no luck at all." Sam ignored Adam's statement as he swept up manure in the horse pen. "Why is he still on this steamer? Why?"

Sam ignored Adam and continued on about his duties. In the past few days amidst their poker playing, Sam had learned Adam liked the sound of his own voice. Sam's was often not required. The steamer whistled.

"That's the return whistle. We're pulling out in ten minutes." Adam huffed, kicked at the small fence surrounding the pen. But Sam was more than a little relived that Baldwin hadn't gotten off the boat and sent the Lord a 'thank you' prayer. After all, he was supposed to be the one breaking into Baldwin's room this time while Adam made sure Baldwin was occupied in Missouri. He had agreed to it cause he was sure Adam would repay him by teaching him something else new. But since Baldwin never left the steamer for Missouri... well, Sam, wasn't hardly going to complain.

"Alright then. Change of plans. Here's what—,"

Adam's voice suddenly cut off and Sam stopped sweeping, looked up.

"Sam?" Adam's voice was low, calm. Something was wrong.

"Yes?"

"Who has keys to the closet where they keep the supplies? Finn?" Adam asked. It didn't surprise Sam that Adam knew Finn. Life on a steamer was small. Everyone at least knew of everyone else.

"Mr. Finn. Mr. Clark. I think—," it was Sam's turn to stop talking as Adam walked over to Finn, bumped into him, apologized and came back.

Sam started to ask what that was about when he heard loud shouting near the entrance of the steamer where they had lowered the gangplank.

"Sam, I need you to show me something in the closet."

Adam's voice was cool, demanding, and the part of Sam that was used to instantly obeying started moving before his brain caught up. "Mr. Ward," Sam said slowly as they made their way to the closet. Adam opened the door and motioned for Sam to go in first. "What is it that you—." The door slammed shut. Sam's heart started racing as he heard the key turning in the knob. "Mr. Ward?"

"Hide behind something, Sam. It's bounty hunters."

The words were like a dousing of ice water. Sam let go of the broom in his hand and knocked on the door. "Mr. Ward," his voice was low, but fervent.

"No more knocking, Sam. I have to go find your brother."

"Mr. Ward." Sam reached for the door handle even though he had heard Adam lock it. He slammed the palm of his hand against the door. There was relief that Adam would find Manny, but Laura. His heart thudded painfully at the thought of her being taken back. Gid, Sol, Benji. Amos... they had become like family to him. Somewhere along the way, his heart had made room for them all.

He rattled the doorknob again and then stopped as he heard an unfamiliar voice call out a command to search the steamer.

Lord God. He was suddenly hot, sweat forming everywhere on his body. To keep messing with the door was to give himself away. And he would do it in a second if it meant that someone else would be saved by his efforts. But he had no way of knowing.

"There! That one!"

Sam fought the urge to vomit. He would rather than die than go back. But he didn't see how he could keep on living if Manny was taken. Or Laura. His stomach flipped again, but he swallowed the rising bile and with it the notion of assistance. Biting his lip so hard he could taste blood, he hid himself in the far back behind a box, crouching down low, making sure no part of him could be seen should the door open. When you weak, then you be strong. His mama's words always came to him in his worst moments. He had never known what that really meant except maybe that when there was nothing else he could do, then there was strength in relying on God. In quietness and trust was his strength. He folded into himself, and held onto the words tight through the worst of the screams that followed.


"So, this is where you spend your time?" Benji's words and his face held his familiar sneer as he stood in the doorway of the laundry room. And Laura was just done with it. How dare he think he could belittle her just cause she spent most of her time indoors? She ate better, she was able to read more and learn more, but actually spending day in and day out with white folks was not without its own drawbacks.

"Why are you here?" She made sure she let him know exactly how much she wished he would go away.

Benji stepped further into the room when it became evident that no one else was in the laundry with her. Emma and Maureen were acting as maids. Birdie was in her usual spot in the kitchen talking and cooking with Nellie. Laura was in the laundry room repairing a hem on a red silk gown. And thinking about Sam. He had been rather busy for the past few days, holed up with Adam Ward.

She had even asked Manny about it. After giving her a dirty look, he had admitted that Adam was teaching Sam to play cards.

"Are you jealous?" Laura had asked, genuinely curious.

Manny had blinked at her. "Jealous? Of my brother? Why should I be? What he learns is what we learn. I do think he's playin' with fire with this Adam Ward. But what do I know? I've only been a slave to the white man my whole life."

She had walked away from the conversation smiling. Manny was irritating, but he sure could make life more colorful.

"Sol asked me to meet him here," Benji said, breaking Laura from her thoughts.

"Oh?"

"He and Gid went to the mercantile this time. Pa thought it might be a bit safe since we out of Kentucky. They took their papers though. Just in case."

And wasn't that a blessing? After this stop, they had but one more in Tennessee. The end was almost in sight. And then what? Setting up house with her brothers and Papa? Starting a whole new life? It didn't bear thinking upon.

"I don't know how you do it, always findin' the coziest jobs."

"Benjamin!" Laura huffed out air, glaring at him from over the top of the dress. She would like to see him spend hours on end sewing until his eyes got tired and his fingers developed callouses from the points of the needles.

"Papa always talks like he cain't get on without you."

Laura stopped sewing. "It's nice to know that should somethin' happen, you would be happy to leave me behind."

Benji stiffened. "That's not what I said at all."

The door opened and they both froze. But it was only Sol. In his hand were two caramel candies. "I bet ya'll thought I forgot about ya'll again, but I didn't," Sol said as he walked over first to Benji to hand him his piece and then to Laura.

She slipped the candy in the pocket of her apron "Thanks, Sol. Where's Gid?"

"Went to find Papa."

"I'm not sayin' I want you gone, I'm just sayin' you don't bring to the table nearly as much as you think you do. That's all."

This time, even Sol sent Benji a look of long-suffering.

"Your problem is not with me," Laura finally said. She flicked her gaze to the door. "You can leave." Mama had always despaired that she and Benji had never gotten along. But it wasn't her fault. She had tried. He hadn't. Such was life.

Benji's face hardened. "You don't know what it's like, livin' up at Salis House while we work ourselves half to death. The things I've seen—,"

"I've heard about," Laura said, coming to her feet. She ignored the pained expression on Sol's face; the one that said he wished he could be anywhere but here.

"Just because my time at Salis was different doesn't make it any less painful. Who are you that you get to decide whose time as a slave was worse? Your experience has been nothin' like Sam's or Manny's who, I think we both agree, had it harder than the both of us and they don't complain near as much as you do. Get over yourself, Benjamin."

Instead of Benji leaving, his eyes narrowed as though he were preparing to dig in. Except the sound of yelling from below reached their ears.

Benji shot her a look before turning to open the door and peek out.

Laura turned to Sol. Sol shrugged. "He'll outgrow it. Least that's what Pa always says."

The door slammed shut and Laura looked up. There was stark terror on Benji's face. "Paddy rollers."

Laura dropped the dress in her hand. Swallowed. Looked around.

"We've got to hide."

"Gid. Pa," Sol said, making his way to the door.

"No," Benji said, grabbing his arm before he could reach it.

"Let me go," Sol said, trying to pull his arm out of Benji's grasp but failing. "I've got to warn Pa and Gid."

"If we know, they know. Pa wouldn't want you to try."

Laura ignored their exchange, her eyes swerving around the room and landing on the only closet in it. A closet would be the first place a paddy roller would look... unless they didn't know it was there. Laura ran to the door, opened it. It was filled with clean napkins and tablecloths.

"Can we all fit in there?" Benji asked, he was right behind her and his grip tight on Sol's arm.

"Let. Me. Go." Sol's voice was a growl and with his other hand he tried to pick at Benji's fingers on his arm.

"The shelves—,"

"Hold him," Benji said, tossing Sol at her. She wrapped her arms around the boy's chest as tight as she could, holding him in place and ignoring the pain as he stomped on her foot.

"Sol, stop. Calm down." Laura made sure her voice was calm. Like Mama's was when Sol got worked up. It was a rare happening. But every now and then, things set him off. But unlike Mama, her calm speaking didn't work. He struggled in her arms.

"Papa. Gid."

Laura swallowed. She couldn't think about them right now. If she did, she was sure she would pass out. Benji, after tugging on the shelves for a second, ripped them down and toss them out of the closet. He grabbed a kicking Sol, dragging him into the closet. "Come on!" he hissed when she didn't enter right away.

But she couldn't. Not yet. She ran back to the silk dress, folding it neatly then she fixed the shelving Benji had tossed aside, making it look like it had always been there. She reached into her other pocket and crouched down before the door of the linen closet.

"Laura!"

"Be quiet!"

With shaking hands, she unscrewed the door handle catching the knob on the outside. The door handle on the inside was loose, but still sticking. Then she slid into the closet and pulled the door behind her, enshrouding them in darkness. It was a temporary solution, one that might not even work, but she had to try. She clutched her stomach, bringing her knees to her chest in the small space. She felt Benji's shoulder in the small of her back, just behind her. He was holding Sol just in front of him.

"I need to get Pa. I need to get Gid," Sol's voice was strained.

Benji reached down and swatted him hard on his thigh. "You stop it. Right now. You want us to get caught?"

But neither Benji's words nor his roughness got through to Sol. If anything, his words got louder.

"Sol!" Benji's whisper was frantic. And then Sol kicked the wall. Benji swore. "He's lost his mind."

"We'll have to sit on him, to keep him still," Laura said, scrambling to do just that.

"He won't stop," Benji said and placed a hand over Sol's mouth. When Benji swore again, she knew Sol had bit him. "Sol!" Benji hissed. "Do you want us to get caught?" Benji repeated. "Do you want to go back?"

But wherever Sol was, he was past words. "Papa!" He cried out.

"Here," she tossed Benji one of the cloths she was sitting on that had fallen when Benji removed the shelving. She didn't need to explain. In a rare moment of being on the same page, Benji took the cloth, a napkin, and stuffed part of it in Sol's mouth and used the remainder to wrap it around his face. Sol's words cutoff in a terrified silence. His frantic hands went to the cloth to remove it, but Benji had already tied a tight knot. In seconds, he had Sol flipped over onto his belly, sending Laura careening in the small space towards the door and then diving back onto Sol's moving feet. Bending his legs at the knee, she moved so that she was sitting next to Benji. Sol, in front of them, moved. She grabbed Sol's legs, to keep him from kicking the wall, held them pressed against her chest while Benji held Sol's arms and pushed the boy's chest into the floor of the closet so that he mimicked the position of a hog-tied pig. It could not have been comfortable for either of them. For the first time in a long time, she was grateful for Benji.

"I didn't want to hurt him," Benji said, his voice just above a whisper. They were sitting shoulder to shoulder with Sol's body shaking in front of them. She didn't respond, just turned and tucked her face into his shoulder. It wasn't just Sol who was shaking. After a moment, Benji leaned his head on top of hers. She felt wetness on her face and realized after a moment, that they were his tears. Then he straightened and she did the same. In the silence she had time to think. Sam, Papa, Gid, Manny.

And then the laundry room door opened.

"They said she might be in here." The voice was loud, brash, Virginian.

Laura felt Benji's body tense up next to hers. She took a breath, held it. Sol's feet in her hand stilled.

"Looks like no one is in here." A second voice called out.

"Is there any place to hide?"

Oh, God. Oh, Jesus. Oh, Jesus. Trust, trust. The prayer had no specific requests. No cohesive thoughts. Just words.

"You sure we ain't lookin' in the wrong place?"

"They said she would be up here."

"Hey!" The new voice sounded far away. "I think I found her!"

The sound of footsteps leaving the laundry room brought Laura such relief she was almost dizzy with it. And then she heard the scream.

"No! No!"

Laura recognized the screamer. Birdie.

"No! No!"

Her screams were loud and chilling. Sol started moving again fighting against her and Benji. The bounty hunters weren't there for them, but if they found three Negroes hiding in a closet, well...

"Look at that one! That one's runnin'. Get him!"

Sol moaned beneath Laura and Benji.

"Girl, shut up!" Laura heard the sound of flesh being hit. And then Birdie let out a keening sound, one Laura had heard only a few times, but was still familiar, deep down to her soul.

Laura sniffed, her cheeks tingling as tears left their mark.

"Get him, I said. Get him!"

Next to her, Benji shifted, pressing his shoulder into her and that was why she felt his body jerk when they heard the gunshot fill the air.

Birdie's screams filled the air once more.

Oh, God. Oh, God. She felt sick. Dizzy.

"Breathe," Benji's whisper was faint. "Breathe, Laura." She inhaled so quickly she almost choked.

Beneath her, Sol was making small, hiccupping noises, his chest rising and falling in quick spasms.

There was a splash. And then another gunshot.

"Got him!"

Next to her, Benji took in a ragged breath and Sol started to moan into the cloth again. They heard the men dragging a distraught Birdie off the steamer because the ship, in all of the happenings, also appeared to have gone eerily silent. Usually, there was always an undercurrent of voices talking and animals rattling. But now there appeared to be nothing. Laura heard when the paddy rollers left, she heard when the gangplank went up, and she heard when the boiler room got started going again.

But the three of them still didn't move until the sounds of the steamer started to become familiar again. And then Benji let Sol's arms go. He pushed open the linen closet door. Laura gently set Sol's legs down. Light filled the room. But, Sol didn't move.

"Sol," Benji shook Sol, but the boy still didn't move.

"Sol," Laura said, reaching for the handkerchief around his mouth. She removed it. It was soaked wet and she didn't know if the wetness was from his saliva or his tears. But still he didn't move. He was utterly silent now, even as he closed his mouth and swallowed. "Sol, sweetheart." But as soon as the words left her mouth, Sol turned, faced them, and speared them both with a look of hatred before returning back to his place on the floor.

Benji looked over at Laura and she looked at him. His face was covered in tear streaks, his eyes red. "I'm not goin' to say sorry," his words were belligerent as he hauled up the angry Sol into his lap. Laura wrapped her arms around both her brothers, her silent tears melding with their own.


"Sam?" The voice was Adam's. Sam heard the closet door open slowly. "They're gone now."

This, Sam knew. Trapped as he was, he felt like he had heard everything. He stood up slowly, not facing Adam and aware that he had only been in the closet for no more than ten minutes. It had felt like hours. He took his hat off, ran a hand over the top of his hair, and then replaced it.

"It wasn't Manny."

This, Sam also knew. He didn't know how he knew cause whoever the man was they killed had been silent. But he knew. "Who was it?" Sam's voice was hoarse from holding back all of his emotions because he wouldn't let himself cry. Aside from tears of pain when he was whipped, Sam didn't cry. Sam hadn't cried since he had lost his mama so long ago.

"Someone named Will, I think. The one they say was always singing at night."

Sam flinched. And yet felt an overwhelming sense of shame when he also felt relieved. "They kill him?" He asked, but he already knew the answer.

Adam hesitated. "Yeah," he said softly. Sam nodded. He had figured as much. He turned around slowly. "You know I wouldn't have... I wouldn't have let them take you like that. I would have bought you first or something." Sam sighed, straightened his shirt, gave Adam a nod without meeting his gaze. "I didn't know it was like that, Sam. That was the most awful thing I've ever seen." Sam nodded again. Will was lucky. His death had been quick. Which was probably why he had jumped in the river in the first place. Better than that then being flayed open. As for the woman screaming...

"The girl?"

"His sister."

So, Birdie than. Sam closed his eyes for a second. Sighed. "I need to get back to work, suh."

He felt Adam's gaze, but didn't look at him. Finally, Adam sighed. "Fine. Alright. We'll talk later, Sam." And then Adam left.

Sam found his brother first when really he had an urge to run upstairs and find Laura. If they had gotten Birdie, he was mighty curious how they missed her. Manny was behind several crates, moving them in no order Sam could follow. "Manny."

"Sam." Manny's voice was clipped as he stacked one box atop another. Sam waited for his brother to speak, but when Manny said nothing, he took one step back. If Manny needed time, he would give him time. "And, where were you?"

He didn't need time. "Locked in the closet. By Adam Ward."

Manny's mouth opened and closed for a second. He held up a finger. "I should have guessed that."

"Where were you?"

"Hidin'. Right there. Where your friend Adam Ward shoved me. He stood right in front of me the whole time." Manny said, pointing to a spot that was behind several crates. "I saw it all."

Sam paused, scratched at his face. They never knew what to say to each other in hard times. "I'm sorry," Sam said slowly, "'bout Will."

"Why should you be sorry? Why should anyone be sorry? It was my mistake," Manny said, restacking the same boxes. "My mistake for makin' a friend. You know what happens to people you care 'bout, Sam? You lose 'em." Manny made a fist, tapped it against the cargo in front of him. "You lose 'em," he repeated and leaned forward, touching his forehead to the box in front of him. Sam came alongside Manny so that his shoulder touched his brother's, but said nothing. Manny would find no peace until he said it all. Manny's voice got quiet, just above a whisper. "There I was, in a corner, hidin' like a rat while Will was hunted like a possum. I said nothin', I did nothin', just prayed it wouldn't be me or you. When I think about it, Sam, sometimes, I just cain't breathe."

Sam pulled his hat off, twisting the thing in different directions. "'Cept that you have to... keep on breathin' that is, for Will, for Mama, for everyone else we ever knew. We got to keep breathin'." Times like these he wished he could offer his brother the comfort of Jesus. But Sam knew well enough to mention Jesus right now might just spark a fire he wasn't in the mood to put out. Besides, his own spirit was a bit bruised. What he needed was to be around someone with some faith. Someone like Laura.

"What are you doin' with Laura?"

"What?" The mention of her name, just when he had been thinking about her had him jumping like a coon catching sight of a coon dog.

Manny straightened. Moved another box. "You heard me, Sam. Should I be worried?"

"Worried," Sam stretched out the word. "About what?

Manny looked at him out the side of his eye. "You take on a woman, Sam, you takin' on a whole host of worries. Losin' Will... Birdie... losin' Laura would be like losin' Mama all over again. There's a part of you that would never recover."

"And what if nothin' happens? What if I marry Laura and we live out a full life? Faith works both ways."

"Yes," Manny hissed, his eyes narrowed. "'Cept I've never seen that happen. I've never seen no happy Negroes livin' a full life. I have seen families broken a part. Mama sold, daddy sold, children sold. So, forgive me if my believin' is only in one direction."

Sam swallowed, exhaled slowly, knowing his brother's anger was not directed at him. "I don't have all the answers, Manny. All I know is it's not really livin' if every decision we make is rooted in fear." Sam didn't know where the words came from, but he felt the truth of them. "We free, Manny. And part of bein' free is livin' free."

"Sam!"

Sam turned at the sound of Laura's voice. She was making her way towards them in that graceful, determined walk of hers.

"That girl thinks she knows everythin', Sam. It'll be like bein' married to a... to a... I don't know what, but whatever it is, it ain't good."

Sam ignored him, slipped his hat back on, and moved forward to meet her. He reached out, grabbed her arm, and pulled her into a shadowy spot behind some cargo. He put his arm around her waist, tugging her close, and holding her tightly.

"Oh, Sam," she whispered, her breath warm against his neck as she reached up, placing her arms around his neck. Sam felt for the first time since the paddy rollers came on the ship, at peace. He gave her one more squeeze and then pulled away though his hands lingered at her waist. "Did they see you?"

"We hid in the closet in the laundry room," Laura said, her eyes searching his, still red from crying.

"We?"

"Me, Benji, and Sol. Sol was... it was bad. We had to practically sit on him, he was so worried 'bout Papa and Gid."

"It's like that, for some people..." He had seen that firsthand, people making poor, frantic decisions in times of stress that made no sense.

"Sam. Birdie..."

One of his hands moved from her waist to her cheek, and he wished with everything in him that he could take her fear, her grief away. But only God could do that. "I know..."

"I wasn't very kind to her," her voice broke. "And now she's gone."

Rubbing his thumb against the softness of her cheek, he made sure to meet her gaze. "How you treated her had nothin' to do with what just happened."

"I could have been kinder," she said stubbornly, looking away.

"Then treat it as a lesson learned and move on."

She nodded, a tear sliding down her face. "I was so scared. My prayer for you, for the boys... there weren't even words."

"Same. I just had to trust that God loves you more than I do." He blinked for a long second. He hadn't meant to say that. To admit out loud that he loved her. That was something he had hoped to keep to himself for a bit. He felt her hands fists into the sides of his shirt, her gaze bright and fierce on his. "You love me, Sam?"

"I do, Laura," he said softly, tugging her closer. "I do."

"Oh. My. God." Manny's low voice was like thunder on a blue-sky day. Sam felt Laura stiffen in his arms, but he didn't let her let go.

"Manny, go away," Sam said, not even looking at his brother. He didn't know what it meant exactly that he loved Laura. He didn't know what his future held. He just knew she would be in it.

"I think that I should have been given a warnin' that this was more serious than it looked. I mean, Sam's makin' friends with white men, solvin' mysteries, and courtin' ladies. You think you know a person..."

"Man." Sam's voice was hard. Tired.

"I'm just goin' to leave you two alone. Got work to do. This boat ride ain't free."

Laura reached out, placing a hand on Manny's arm before he moved. "I have no words about Will."

Manny shrugged off her hand, slipped his own into his pocket. "It is what it is. Welcome to the family, Laura. By the way, our last name is Day."

"Change is hard for him," Sam said as he watched his brother walk away. "But when he gets settled, he'll be just fine."

"Is there a change that's goin' to be made?" Laura asked, her gaze fully on him.

"I hope so," he said, feeling more than a bit shy. He met her gaze though. "I'd like to kiss you, but it'd only be fair to warn you, I ain't done it before." He felt his face warm. Manny had told him it took lots of practice and skill to be a good kisser. But Sam had never just wanted to try it for the sake of trying it. And so he had never done it.

"Aw," Laura said, her gaze darting away. "Guess we're in the same boat, then."

And with that, he leaned down and kissed her.


The next day, Sam was in the animal pens, cleaning manure and spreading fresh hay. And listening to Finn talk.

"I'm tellin' you, Sam, we're bout to enter Indian Territory. Folks be afeared of the boiler room explodin' but they don't be thinkin' bout the Injuns attackin'. Why I heard this one story..."

Most of Finn's words were drowned out by the sheet of rain that surrounded the steamboat. The day was warm, humid, wet, and it smelled bad. But Sam wasn't about to complain, the boat was moving and so long as it kept on moving, that was all that mattered.

"And then—," thunder pounded and lightening cracked against the sky, and Sam paused taking it all in. It seemed fitting really, all the rain. The night before had been hard to get through. Neither he nor Manny nor the Altan men had much to say. Amos had even joined them, holding Gid under one arm and Sol under the other. And it had been a silent night. Without Will, and quite frankly the way in which Will left the boat, no one had felt inclined to make music.

With Amos there, Manny had been sure to nudge Sam several times to speak on Laura, but Sam hadn't. He would speak to Amos at a time of his choosing and not when Manny was there to listen in. After the third nudge, Sam had made sure to elbow Manny in the soft parts of his side eliciting a grunt from his brother. Manny had left him alone after that.

"Sam," Adam's voice pulled Sam out of his thoughts.

"Suh?" Sam asked, straightening with the broom in his hand. Adam was dressed in his usual dark suit, leaning against one of the poles of the steamboat. He nodded toward an empty spot at the steamboat rail.

Sam set the broom aside and exited the cow pen. He followed Adam over to the wet railing.

Adam didn't speak when he got close. Instead, he stared out at the rain. Sam folded his arms over his chest, rocked on the back of his feet. "How are you doing?" Sam raised an eyebrow. "You know... with yesterday..."

"Fine." Sam's voice was clipped, short.

Adam sighed, pounded a fist against the railing in front of him. "I need to get into Baldwin's room tonight. Can you keep watch again? This time I'll make sure he's out of the room."

Sam gave a quick nod.

"We'll meet up just before the supper bell."

"Yes, sir."

Adam sighed again, but left.

"What did he want this time?" Manny asked as he sidled up to Sam.

"Where were you at?"

"Does it matter?" Sam rolled his eyes. If there was an easy way to answer, Manny always chose the hard way. Sam told him quickly what Adam had wanted. "You've done this before?"

"Yes. Adam thought the man was at supper but he wasn't. He's pretty slippery, Baldwin. Never where you expect him to be."

"Maybe he has a twin," Manny said, laughing to himself. "Remember how we used to pretend to be one person?"

"Till Molloy whipped us both," Sam said slowly. They had done it when they had first arrived in Kentucky. To protect themselves. What a failure that had been.

"Yeah, well it took him months to figure it out. Him and everybody else. Everyone always actin' like they can tell us apart. I'm tellin' you, Sam. If I wanted to, I could be you in a second. All nice and savin' people, and prayin'. And you could be me. It would be a hardship, you're not as funny as I am—,"

Sam left.

"Sam!"

"Be right back," Sam hollered over his shoulder. He needed to find Adam before he reached the stairs.


"Twins!" Laura whispered to Sam. They were tucked in the shadow of the stairs on the second deck, leaning against the wall, shoulder to shoulder, watching it rain.

"Yes, Manny made me think of it," Sam said, a rueful smile on his lips. Really, all Laura wanted to do was kiss those lips. She didn't want to think about Baldwin or his murdering twin or Mary Stiles. "When I left Adam, he was tryin' to figure out a way to lure the second one out."

Would it be too forward if she asked him to hold her? They were planning to marry after all. At least that was what she thought they were planning to do. A man didn't talk about a future with a woman unless he was speaking of marriage. But they weren't married yet. She casted her mind back to Missy Charlotte's courting. Had there been any holding? Now that she thought on it, there hadn't been. Working in Salis House like she had done, she could barely remember if her own parents liked to be close. She had usually seen one without the other. She exhaled. Focused. "Write a note."

"Hmm?"

"Tell Adam to write a note to Baldwin and slip it under the door after the first one leaves. Make it from someone he wouldn't say no to." Sam frowned and then glanced at her out of the side of his eye. "What? My brother did it once when he wanted access to a room. To this day, Miss Martha has no clue who wanted to meet her out in the barn just before supper."

Sam blinked a few times. "You're a very... smart woman." Laura wasn't fooled. She was sure he wanted to use another word like sneaky or devious. But she would take smart.

"We all have our talents," Laura said, giving him a cheeky grin. And this time she couldn't resist. This time she turned towards him and placed both hands on his cheeks, framing his face. His hands drifted to her waist, making her smile.

"Hey, Laura... ," the sound of Gid's voice made her flinch. Laura looked away from Sam, saw her youngest brother standing there staring up at them like they were the most fascinating thing he had ever seen. She moved her hands from Sam's face to his shoulders. She noticed that while Sam's fingers on her waist twitched for a second, they didn't move. Didn't he know that Gid was going to tell everyone there was to tell that he had caught them together?

"Yes?" She was surprised by how calm her voice sounded when she spoke.

"Nothin'." He still didn't move. Just blinked owlishly up at them.

Sam laughed, pressed a lingering kiss to Laura's cheek that made her close her eyes and forget about everything but him for a moment. "I better go," he said and slipped away.

"Does Pa know—,"

"I'm gonna go tell him right now. You stay. Don't move."

"I have to move!" Gid called to her back, but she ignored him.

If Papa was going to find out about her and Sam then it was going to come from her first. And that was exactly where she was headed when she saw Lucinda (Mary?) turn a corner on the hurricane deck. There was nothing wrong with Lucinda walking on the hurricane deck. Small as the boat was, most everyone found themselves on one floor or another regardless of where they bunked. No. It was the way she looked over her shoulder that had made Laura's hackles rise. Cause it reminded her of herself.

With a muffled groan, she gave up talking to Papa and followed Lucinda instead.

With another quick glance over her shoulder, Lucinda headed for the front of the ship. Laura followed quietly behind, ducking behind poles and hiding in shadows careful not to be spotted by the girl. If any of the other passengers caught sight of her, she would send a small smile and a wave. Let them think her strange so long as Lucinda didn't see her.

She trailed after Lucinda until Lucinda reached the railing of the ship. And that was when Laura noticed that she had something in her hand. A box? The girl took a step forward. And Laura stepped out of the darkness.

"Miss Lucinda?"

Lucinda took a step back, so startled she clutched the box to her chest.

"Ma'am," Laura said quietly, pretending not to see the fright that lingered in the girl's face. "Can I help you with somethin'?" Laura asked and nodded towards the box.

"Oh, Laura," Lucinda said breathlessly as she looked down at the brown box in her hands. She spread a hand on the front. "I was just getting rid of somethings..."

"Ma'am, it's best not to toss things in the river. It can get caught in somethin', maybe even the wheel of the ship or wash up on shore." Lucinda's face blanched. "I hear the Mississippi is mercurial. One day it's land, the next day it's river. If you're aimin' to get rid of it, I can toss it in the furnace in the boiler room. The fire is fierce in there."

Lucinda looked down at the box, her grip tight on it. Laura watched as the girl swallowed, but more than that, Laura saw what she had missed by not paying any attention. Lucinda was no girl. She was old. Not elderly, but not the girl Laura had initially thought her to be. She had to at least be in her thirties. Laura could see evidence of the pearl powder on the woman's face, the subtle eye paint, and the beeswax on the woman's lips. She had never cared to look so closely, but now Lucinda's age glared out at her. Whether the woman was Mary Stiles or not, she was hiding something.

Slowly, so slowly, she handed the box to Laura. "Yes. Burn it. That's a good idea. I'll come too and watch it."

Think of something, think of something, Laura told herself. Careful to keep her gaze guileless and a little stupid, Laura said, "Ma'am, it would be best if you didn't go down to the boiler room. It's not a place for a lady. There are lots of men around."

Lucinda huffed, her lower lip protruding in a pout. Then her face lightened. "I'll watch you then."

"That sounds right fine," Laura said, her grip on the box tightening. She would just have to set it someplace in the boiler room until Lucinda was gone. Laura started for the stairs, feeling Lucinda's gaze right in the center of her back. She went down the flight and then glanced up. Lucinda was at the railing of the hurricane deck, still watching. Laura turned the corner and went to the boiler room. She felt the heat before she saw it.

One of the men who worked in the boiler room, a dark-skinned man, stepped out, saw her, and then called back to the room. "It's one of yours, Amos!"

Laura sent the man a tight smile of thanks before dipping into the overheated room. She found a spot in the way back, careful not to get in anyone's way.

"Laura," Papa said, sending her a quick look just before shoveling coal into the large furnace. He set his shovel along the side and took several steps back, meeting her. "Let's step out."

"I can't. I told one of the ladies I would burn this in the furnace for her," Laura said, even as she gripped the box tightly to her chest. "But I'm not goin' to."

Papa gave her a look. "This have anythin' to do with that stuff you and Sam..." Laura gave a small nod. "Speakin' of Sam..." Laura closed her eyes for a second. Gid had beat her down. "He came and talked to me this mornin' bout the two of you," Papa said, averting his gaze.

Sweat began to form at the top of her forehead and started gathering under her arms. Laura wasn't entirely sure it was cause of where she was standing. "He did?"

"Said somethin' bout marryin' up with you one day." Papa's voice was gruff, he stared down at his hands.

"Yes." Laura bit the bottom of her lip. "But I don't see us leavin' ya'll." She hadn't asked Sam. They hadn't quite talked that much about their future. But family was important to Sam. She didn't see him leaving her family behind either. "You'll still have me."

Papa huffed, placed his hands on his waist. "He's a good man. I like Sam. I like Sam for you and if you're right, maybe there's still time for you and me to get on with each other."

It was Laura's turn to look away. She swallowed, her throat dry as dirt, "I'd like that."

"You best get on out of here, now."

"Here," Laura said, handing him the box and taking the papers out. "Toss this in the fire." It was one of Prince's rules. Never tell a complete lie to a white man or woman. At least part of it had to be true. "Is there some place I can leave the rest?" she asked as she rolled the papers up. She looked around for some string, found a strand of hemp that was hanging off a bag of partially opened coal, broke it off, and wrapped it tight around the bundle.

"Give it here."

Laura handed the wrapped papers to Papa and watched as he tossed the empty box into the furnace. She stepped out of the hot room and glanced up. Sure enough Lucinda was still there. She spread her hands, to show that they were empty and Lucinda smiled.

An hour later she went back for the papers. With a quick nod at Papa, and after making sure he and all the other men were facing the boiler, she slipped the papers into a small garter she had attached to her upper calf. After fixing her skirts, she left the room, went up both flights of steps, and when she saw the laundry room was empty, she pulled out the papers and read them. Twice. If Prince were here, he would make copies. But there wasn't time for that. They were arriving in Tennessee soon and then the next stop was Arkansas. Adam needed to see the papers now. She rolled up the papers and kneeled on the floor to return the papers to her garter. Except she went flying instead, the papers slinging out across the room. The boat made a horrible, groaning noise beneath her as she scrambled forward to grab the papers. Were they sinking? Were they stuck?

She heard men's voices, yelling, fussing. She slipped the papers into her garter and left the laundry room.

Emma ran towards her, coming up the stairs from the hurricane deck. "We've run aground."

Laura moved passed the girl and towards the railing. Men, like ants, scrambled below with poles in hand. Captain Leahy and several of the sailors were calling out orders and scrambling. Now was not the time to go to Sam. She would just have to go to Adam Ward herself.

"Man overboard!"

Laura ignored the chaos of the ship and headed towards Adam's room.

"I am not paying for another ship to tow us out. Get down there, now!"

Feeling like she was walking almost sideways, Laura made her way to the door. It was only when she got there that she realized that Adam too might be down there helping.

"Pump the bilge!"

She knocked on Adam's door. There was no answer and his door was locked. Using her picks, she unlocked the door and entered. Reaching under her gown, she grabbed the papers and set them on his desk. She picked up a paperweight, set it on top. Her work was done here. It was up to Adam now.


Getting the steamer out of the sandbar or whatever it was, was more entertaining than it ought to have been. With every sailor, roustabout, and hired man on the boat helping, it didn't take too long to get them back into the water again.

"That's the Mississippi for you," Finn declared loudly. Several men agreed with him. "Ain't a thing predictable about the ole girl."

Sam was just glad to hear the paddlewheel going again. He was not too keen on running aground in Tennessee.

"Sam!"

Sam turned around to see Adam walking towards him, shaking some papers in his hand. "Did you get these?"

"Get what?"

"These papers." Adam looked around, noticed he was drawing a crowd and pulled Sam over to the railing. "I went to my room and found these on my desk. They're James Alexander Sherringhouse's papers. From his safe. The one that Mary Stiles and Henry Baldwin broke into. And if the papers are here on this boat than that means one or both of them are here on the boat."

"I thought we knew that already."

"Yes, but this is proof!" Adam said excitedly. "I knew it! They wouldn't listen to me, Sam. But I knew it. How did you get them?"

"I didn't." It must have been Laura, Sam thought. That girl was something.

"But..."

"Does it matter how they got there?"

"Sort of," Adam said, sending him a look of expectation. When Sam said nothing, Adam sighed. "Alright. Don't tell me. But I think you know how they got there. I also tweaked the plan a bit. I'm going to send a note to both Baldwin and Lucinda. See what happens when they meet each other on the ship."

"Durin' supper time?"

"Yes. I want you to keep an eye on the Baldwin at the supper table. I'll follow the one who meets Lucinda. If for whatever reason, the Baldwin who goes to supper gets up and leaves, create a disturbance of some kind. Don't let him come to the lower deck. Understand?"

Sam nodded slowly. Make a disturbance. He certainly understood, though he was still unsure of what that would actually look like.

"What if I'm wrong? What if it's not two of them?"

Adam shrugged. "Then we'll still get Mary Stiles. That's how I'll address the note, to Mary. And don't forget, I saw Baldwin murder Vance whose body was recovered by the way."

"Oh."

"Yeah. Sent a telegram right after. Like you I don't have until New Orleans to wrap this thing up. I've got Pinkertons waiting for me in Tennessee."

It was the way he said it, that made Sam ask, "In trouble?"

"Not as much if I deliver the murderers." Adam slapped his arm. "See you at supper."

Sam spent all day thinking about the kind of distraction he could create that wouldn't set other people into panic, cause him to be thrown off the ship or worse, and force Baldwin to stop what he was doing enough to care.

In the end, he finally resorted to talking to Gid and Sol. He didn't want to get Manny involved. And he figured the boys would have something safe to run with. Besides, the both of them had been working in service the entire time they had been on the steamer. He found them sitting on the hurricane deck polishing shoes. Crouching down he presented his problem to them.

"Pour somethin' on him," Gid said confidently as he wiped at a shoe. "Then he'll have to go change."

"Oh, that is good," Sam said, trying to think of a way to pour something on a person whilst making it look like an accident.

"But what somethin' are you goin' to pour?" Sol asked. His voice was light, quiet. He hadn't spoken much since Will's death and Birdie's taking. There was a new air of sadness about him that Sam just didn't like.

"Water's no good," Gid said, giving him a pointed look. "Maybe... spirits?"

"You could get Mr. Ward to get you some," Sol said softly, not looking up from the shoe he was working on.

"I knew I was right to talk to ya'll."

"I told Sol you were kissin' my sister." Gid said the words almost as though they were the lyrics to a song.

Sam let out a huff of laughter. "Yes. Figure I'll marry her someday."

Sol stared at him for a long minute. "We just got her back."

"You're lookin' at this the wrong way," Sam said, pushing Sol's shoulder with one finger. "You're not losin' her. You're gainin' another brother. Two in fact."

"Oh, goody," Gid said with a roll of his eyes. Sol snorted, but smiled.

"You could ask the man for help with somethin'," Sol said slowly. "If he's nice, he'll help. If he's mean, he'll fuss. Either way, he'll be distracted."

"Good point."

Sam stayed with the boys until the evening whistle blew. Then he went to the Texas deck. He had told Finn that Adam had asked him to do him a favor and then run off before Finn could ask what the favor was exactly.

On the Texas deck, just a few feet away from the door to the dining hall, Sam worked on untangling rope. Using the brightness of the night sky, his fingers slowly made their way down the rope. Outside the door he could hear laughter and conversation. He could smell the roasted pork and vegetables from his spot and he felt his stomach cramp. He had eaten. But after near unto two weeks eatin' bread and meat, his body wanted something different. He found himself wondering if Laura was in there serving or in the laundry room working.

He had just decided that maybe he would risk it and go find Laura when the door to the dining hall opened revealing two men: the old man that Baldwin was always talking to and Baldwin himself.

Sam exhaled sharply. He had planned on slowing down one person. Not two.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Cronwall. I couldn't hear you in there."

"I think you heard me just fine, young man. I. Am. Not. Interested."

"Mr. Cronwall—,"

"I've heard you're a huckster!"

"A... Mr. Cronwall, who would say..."

"Miss Stillwood, said you are not to be trusted. She said—,"

"Miss Stillwood!"

Sam was fairly certain he wasn't the only person who heard the betrayal in Baldwin's voice. Well, at least with this conversation going, Sam wouldn't have to worry about keeping the man from going down to the hurricane deck.

"Yes. Lucinda Stillwood said that you swindled her father out of all his money."

"And who is her father?" Baldwin asked, bitterness in his voice.

"It doesn't matter. I had you investigated after that! That's right. I sent a telegram when we were in Missouri last and you are not linked to any kind of railroad."

"Mr. Cronwall—,"

"Please refrain from saying my name ever again!"

Sam, no longer messing with the rope in his hand, watched as Mr. Cronwall reentered the dining hall. Baldwin stomped past Sam, not even noticing him. Since Baldwin was headed to his room and not to the hurricane deck, Sam neither said nor did a thing. Except follow. He watched Baldwin plod to his room, open the door, and slam it shut behind him.

Well. Sam hoped Adam was getting something accomplished down below. He figured now was as good a time as any to go find Laura.

Sam made it almost to the laundry room when he heard pounding footsteps coming up from the hurricane deck. And then voices.

"You can't get away Baldwin." Adam. "There's nowhere to run on a boat this size." So, he had been right. There were two of them.

"You're making a mistake," a woman's shrill voice called out. "Release me right now or I'll tell the Captain!"

"Please do, Miss Stiles."

Sam found a shadow against a wall and did his best to blend in. In minutes, the door to the dining room opened, diners pouring out to see what all the yelling was about.

"Stop that man," Adam called out. "Baldwin. He's a murderer and a thief!"

Sam heard gasps, saw people talking. None of them seemed inclined to stop the second Baldwin. Baldwin pushed past them until he ran into one of the hired guns Captain Leahy used to protect his goods. "I've got him."

"What gives you the authority—,"

Sam tuned out the passenger's voices as Baldwin began to fight the hired gunman. He could see that at the bottom of the stairs, Mary Stiles or Lucinda Stillwood was being detained by one of the sailors down there.

"Lucinda Stillwood! What in heaven's name is going on?" A woman called out.

"Aunt Crissy! It's all a horrible mistake!"

The loud noises of more people yelling and fussing filled the air.

"Now, just what is going on!" Captain Leahy joined the fray.

Sam felt like now was as good a time as any to go back down to the lower deck. He would just see Laura tomorrow. Only thing was, it didn't feel quite right. If his brother had been in trouble... Sam searched the crowd. It took a minute, but Sam knew what direction to look in. Baldwin, the one running from Adam, was now detained, on the ground and being trussed up like a pig. And just behind him was another Baldwin. But this one had a gun.

"Get down!" Sam called. "He's got a weapon!"

It was just enough warning that Adam dodged the bullet aimed for him. More fighting, more tussling ensued and Sam slipped down the stairs.


"Sam." Sam could hear the smile in Adam's voice as he approached him. Sam was once again cleaning up the animal pens. He set his broom against the wall and walked to meet Adam against the nearest railing. He had only spoken to him briefly that morning. They would be arriving in Tennessee that day. Baldwin and Baldwin and Mary Stiles would be getting off... and so would Adam. "I wanted to thank you. For yesterday."

"You're welcome," Sam said simply. He gave Adam a small nod.

"What was that, Sam? Was that not a shrug?" Sam allowed himself to smile a little. "A smile?" Adam laughed. And then his face grew serious. "Listen. Sam. I was thinking. If you tell me who your master is, I could buy you." Sam blinked. Looked away. "Not like that, Sam." Adam said quickly. "I would buy you and then set you free."

Sam pounded his fist lightly against the rail. "Thank you. But no."

"Sam. Listen. We work well together. No one even suspected I had a partner. It was perfect. I mean, you have access to stuff and people I never would. Sam. I would pay you."

Sam bit his lip. Sighed. "I appreciate the thought."

Adam exhaled. "I could set you free. Your future could be different, Sam."

"My future is not in your hands, Mr. Adam. But, thank you."

Adam was silent as he placed his hands on his waist. "What's keeping you from taking me up on the offer? Your brother? I could find a place for him too." Sam grunted. Hadn't he told the man no already? "It can't be the money. I haven't told you how much yet. Is it the adventure? Is that why you're going out west? Indians are scary people, Sam. Less it's a woman and—,"

Sam had no clue what Adam saw in his face that led him to know there was a woman. Not that Laura was the sole reason he wouldn't take Adam's offer. Fact of the matter was he had already chosen the course of his life. And it wasn't being a detective with Adam Ward. He plain hated everything about all that business.

"There is a woman."

"Mr. Ward—,"

"Mr. Adam is fine. Tell me about this woman. Is she on the steamer?"

"Mr. Adam—,"

"Are you married, Sam? Why did I never think to ask that?"

"Not married."

"Are you looking to be?"

"Mr. Adam—,"

"When are you planning on getting married? You should do it now with Captain Leahy. You go out there in Indian Territory, assuming she's going with you, and there won't be a preacher for miles. If you get married now, least it'll be legal."

Sam's lips parted to answer and then he closed them. "Legal?"

"Yes. A captain of a ship can marry a couple. It's almost more legal than a preacher. If you won't go with me, if you won't let me purchase your freedom, then let that be my gift to you Sam. I'll ask Captain Leahy to marry you, papers and everything. But not going to lie, Sam. We'll be in Tennessee before you know it. Better get the girl to agree and to do it quickly."


"Marry you? Now?" Laura's eyes were wide with disbelief, her arms folded over her chest. Sam had raced to the laundry room to find her. When he saw her working with the other girls, he had asked her to step out the room with him for a second.

"It'll be legal, Laura. On paper and everythin'. Like a real marriage. I know we haven't known each other that long, but we know the important things."

"We do know the important things," she said, her lips twisting to the side. "Like I love you. And you love me."

"And we'll take care of each other," Sam said, reaching for her hand. She placed it slowly in his. "I don't want a slave marriage, Laura. Not when there's a chance for the real thing."

She pressed her lips together for a second, thinking. Then she nodded slowly, meeting his gaze. "There's no one else for me but you Sam."

Sam felt water gather in his eyes though he knew well enough not to let them fall. Taking both of her hands in his, sliding his fingers between hers he asked,"Will you be my friend, my partner, and my wife, Laura Altan?"

"Yes."

The next person Sam talked to was Amos.

"What now?" They were just outside the boiler room, standing against the nearest rail.

"He can make it legal. The captain."

Amos swallowed hard, his Adam's apple dipping into his throat. He nodded. "I understand. I... just wait here." Amos went into the boiler room for a second, came back out. He held out his hand and Sam opened his. A gold band dropped into it. "Made it for my Phoebe. But she's not here now. She would want Laura to have it."

"I'll take care of her, I promise you that. And we don't aim to be leavin'. Family is important to both of us."

Amos nodded, not meeting his gaze. "Couldn't ask for a better man to become my son."

Sam cleared his throat, exhaling as he looked out on the river. "Couldn't ask for a better man to be my father."

Sam talked to Manny last.

"Marriage? Now? I thought for sure I had a few months." They were tucked behind several large cargo in an effort to find some privacy.

"Manny."

"There's a part of me that hates the thought of you gettin' married."

"Manny—,"

"No," Manny said, holding up a hand. "Let me finish. There's a bigger part of me that likes the thought of us expanding. And Laura would make a good sister. I realize that. And I want you to be happy." The last part was said quietly.

"I am happy. She makes me happy."

"Then that's all that matters, big brother." They shared a look, and then a grin.

"Thanks, Manny."

"Tell Laura I fully expect new clothes from here on out."


They married in the pilot house. Sam had never been in the room before. It was the highest spot on the steamer and overlooked everything. It was also tiny. The only people in the room were Sam, Laura, the captain, his firstmate, and Adam Ward.

"Ha. Lolly," Adam muttered when he first caught sight of Laura.

Sam sent her a curious look. Laura sent him a smile and a shrug. They said their vows quietly, stoically, repeating after Captain Leahy. The only break in Laura's composure was when Sam slipped the ring Amos had made onto her finger. They forewent the kiss, merely squeezing each other's hands at the end. They would save their affection for when they were alone.

But the best part, other than being announced Mr. and Mrs. Day was when they both signed their names on the marriage certificate to the surprise of everyone else in the room. Sam's attempt was rather clumsy but it wasn't an X and you could read it and that was all that mattered.

After the impromptu wedding, with a copy of the wedding certificate still inky and wet in his hand, Sam pulled his wife under the stairs of the Texas deck and kissed her thoroughly. They didn't stay there long. The whistle blew loud below them announcing the entrance to the next port.

"We should get back to work," Laura said, breathing heavy, her face buried in his chest.

"Yes," he said, hugging her tightly back. He kissed the top of her head. "Let's just watch the boat come in for a few minutes. And then we'll get back to it."

Holding his wife's hand, Sam guided her to the railing where they could see people on the ground waving at the passengers on the deck.

"Sam?" It was Adam. Sam half-turned as Adam came alongside him and Laura. Laura slid her arm around Sam's waist and he wrapped his around her shoulders. His wife's shoulders. He couldn't hardly believe it.

"I thought you said your name was Rivers," Adam said, grinning.

"At that time, I thought it was," Sam said dryly.

"And you're Laura," Adam said, eyeing Laura shrewdly. The look he sent Sam told him that he knew. He knew not only that Laura was one of the runaways listed on the wanted ads in his keeping but that she had helped him with Baldwin and Mary Stiles. "Well, it is a pleasure to meet you officially Mrs. Day and I wish you all the best."

"Thank you, Mr. Ward. Samuel and I wish you the best as well," she said, her voice as succinct and graceful as any other educated woman's. Sam fairly beamed on the inside when he saw how taken aback Adam was at her response.

"I've got one last thing for you, Sam."

"You've done enough, Mr. Adam," Sam said, meeting his gaze. "More than enough."

Adam Ward stared at him. And then he unbuckled his gun belt. "You saved my life when it would have been far easier to let me lose it. Don't look at it as a gift... think of it as an apology for having to deal with my headache." Sam took the gun belt from him slowly. "You've already got the gun. Keep it." He stuck out his hand. "Have a good life, Samuel Day."

Sam hesitated for a few minutes. Gradually, he took his hand off of Laura's shoulders and grabbed Adam's hand. Shook it once. "Have a good life, Adam Ward."


Epilogue

six months later

They arrived at the mercantile together. Her and Sam, each on their own horse. The town was small and mostly white. They attracted a few stares, but no one said anything. It was the one thing she loved about living out west. No one ever said anything. Papa predicted that that might change but for now life was fairly easy going.

"You sure about this?" Her husband asked as he got down from his horse. He seemed a natural rider to her. She had learned to ride. Some. But she felt like everyone else did it much better. Arrow Creek, Oklahoma was an interesting place. Laura was still learning to love it. So much of western living was outside of her comfort zone. She had not realized just how much she was used to town living and cobbled streets until they arrived in a town that was more mud than road and had more trees than houses.

But she could not complain. Every day with her husband, Papa, and her brothers was a blessing.

Sam raised his hands to her, helping her down from the horse. When she placed her feet on the ground, she smoothed down the blue and white striped gown she had just finished sewing the night before and touched the back of her matching bonnet, making sure it was in place. Then she looked up into Sam's laughing eyes. "You look beautiful, Laura."

"Not as beautiful as you," she said, giving him a wink.

Sam laughed, but it was true. He was a beautiful man. He always had been and now that she was dressing him, you couldn't miss it. She had bought excellent black fabric for his pants and vest. He wore a white shirt underneath that finally and truly fit him. He also had on Adam Ward's gunbelt slung low on his hips. No one out here had ever said a thing to him about it.

They did not have abundance exactly. Sam and Manny had their mercantile up and running and Papa had his smithy going. Their only customers were the handful of Negroes who had lived there in Arrow Creek before they arrived and the few Negroes and Indians that passed in and out of town. But it was enough that they could now start affording extra things. She and Sam lived in a small shanty next door to Papa, the boys and Manny. But Laura did all the cooking, the cleaning, the washing, and the sewing for everyone. She joked often that she couldn't wait for one of them to get married.

"You've got the letter?" Sam and Manny didn't run a postal service through their store just yet though they planned to in the future. For now, any and all letters had to be brought to the next town over.

"Yes."

"You think he'll come?"

"No. But, I have to try."

Laura stared at the letter addressed to her former master, Richard Feldan. Prince would see it. And he would know. She doubted he would come. But she had to try.