“Look, Mister” Mel made a quick decision to appeal to the man's charitable nature. “I’m in a real fix. I’ve missed my train and I’d rather not involve my father in this, if you know what I mean.”   

“I’m a good worker and I’m not a reporter,” Mel removed the badge as if that would solve everything. “It’s my father’s badge from college.” Mel turned the badge so the name on the back could clearly be seen. Patrick was written in bold block letters. “I took it hoping to get a better seat on the train.” 

Sam hesitated. He wanted to help the fellow, but he usually let John have the final say when it came to the plantation. 

Mel leaned unobtrusively against Charger's left flank, watching the man down by the river. He was carelessly tossing the camera back and forth in his hands, heedless of the damage that might be done. The man was absolutely maddening!  

“Perhaps a visit to the Sheriff is in order,” Mel said suddenly, having watched John nearly fumble the camera. “I offered to work off the debt, and he refused. I'm quite certain the man has no right to seize my personal property.” 

“Now wait just a minute,” Sam stepped forward trapping the young man between himself and horse. After witnessing the way the lad had stood up to his brother, Sam was surprised to see his eyes widen in fear. Instinctively Sam took a step back.  

“John may have erred when he took your camera, but there’s no need to involve the authorities. He's leaving for New Orleans in less than an hour and any further delay is likely to make him more unreasonable. 

“I suggest we go talk to him. He’ll be away for at least the next four days. If I agree to supervise you, he may allow you to work off the debt before he gets back.” Sam was relieved when the lad agreed. He still seemed a bit unsteady and Sam watched him carefully as they made their way down to the river. 

How Mel loved the river! So much so, that Patrick Cartwright had attempted to procure a homestead along its banks. It was not to be, however, as most of the land had already been incorporated into the larger plantations. Recently he had purchased a cottage further inland. Its classic Greek architecture was very different from the Federalist style they owned in Pennsylvania. But the home afforded them much the same comforts and both Cartwright's enjoyed Mississippi's mild clime when compared to the icy weather of Pennsylvania this time of year. 

John had his back toward them and was talking quietly to the workers as they approached.  

“They found whiskey in the shipment again.” he was saying, unaware that his brother and the young man had joined them. “But that’s not all,” he paused, jabbing his fingers through his hair, “They found opium in three of the other barrels.” 

Opium! Mel gasped and blinked rapidly to dispel the hot tears that suddenly threatened. John spun around at the sound, his eyes blazing. It felt much longer, but only seconds passed before Sam stepped between them. Mel did not dare breathe as the two men spoke urgently for a moment before John threw one last glance over his shoulder and strode off toward a riverboat moored down river. 

Sam walked over to where Mel stood waiting. “Well I was able to convince him you're not a reporter,” he said, tapping his mustache thoughtfully. “He wants to think about the rest; said to give him a few minutes.” 

Mel took stock of the situation as they followed slowly after John. The workmen had finished loading the barrels and one group was now walking north along the river while the other group had gone to see about the wagon. It was somewhat alarming to have stumbled upon a band of smugglers. Although Sam did not look or act like any smuggler Mel could have imagined. At the moment, Mel couldn't see any other option than to continue walking toward the boat. They had just stepped onto the boarding plank when Mel stopped short. "This is a Packet Boat." 

“That's right.” Sam watched as the young man's eyes widened once again. This time with interest. His eyes, the most amazing shade of green, were almost effeminate in nature. As the lad studied the boat, Sam took a moment to study him. From the sable-toed boots to the brown bowler hat and large overcoat he looked to be in his early twenties. The lad was so scrawny Sam would have guessed him younger if not for his speech. Not that he had a deep voice; the lad was actually very soft spoken. It was more his manner of speaking that made Sam take note of him.  

Any remaining sensibility departed as Mel delighted in the details of the vessel. Mel had always wanted to ride on a Packet Boat and this one was especially interesting. To the stern just in front of the paddlewheel was an area built for freight. But it was the bow that was most intriguing. Instead of the usual two-tiered passenger area, common on other vessels this one looked to be a small living quarters. 

“Come on. John's waiting.” His brother was already livid that the young man had overheard him talking about the smugglers. The sooner he got Mel's camera back and sent the lad on his way the better. 

Sam's comment brought Mel firmly back to the situation at hand. Taking a deep breath, and praying for protection Mel stepped onto the boat behind Sam. Father always said, 'Curiosity killed the cat.' Mel hoped today's actions did not prove him right. 

John was standing in behind his desk frowning when Sam and Mel entered the small room. “Well, it seems as though our circumstances have changed,” he began without preamble, “now that you know about our situation; thanks to Sam here.” John walked around to the front of the desk and leaned against the edge just a few feet from where Mel was standing. 

“We fully intend to catch whoever is behind this, but until we do I can’t have you running around telling anyone about what you’ve heard,” John paused, rubbing the side of his face with his hand. “So I’m willing to make you a deal.” 

John offered to return the camera, forget about the damages and even fix the buggy if Mel gave his word he would not tell anyone about the smuggling operation. Much to John's astonishment and Sam's vexation the brothers watched as the young man crossed him arms in front of himself and narrowed his eyes. 

“You're telling me this isn't your own operation?” 

In less than a heartbeat, Mel felt himself being pulled backward as Sam inserted himself between him and John.  

“You little twit.” John ground out between his teeth. 

“That’s right, Mel,” Sam tamped down his own rising anger at the young man's assumption. After all, Mel had never met them before and could not possibly know their character or reputation.  

“That’s what has John so on edge. We’re determined to find out whose taking advantage of us, but it will be difficult if word leaks out about what’s going on,” Sam explained. 

Unable to doubt Sam's sincerity Mel's emotions went from suspicion, to compassion, to intense relief within seconds. Feeling in need of a chair, Mel started violently when John barked. 

“So do we have a deal or not?” 

Sam stepped to the side and sat down as John moved back behind his desk. Standing alone in the middle of the room Mel suddenly wondered what God had in mind for this situation. Looking back and forth between the two men, he made what he hoped was not a foolish decision. 

“I believe I may be able to offer you something more valuable than my silence,” Mel replied, reaching for his hat. 

Endless curls cascaded down, framing Mel's face and falling gracefully down her back and around her shoulders. Sam’s first thought was that it had to have been pure magic that had kept so much hair under such a small cap. John found himself in quite a different place, unable to form any conscious thought at all. It took both men a few moments to realize the woman standing in front of them was speaking. They both stood abruptly to their feet.