“It all checks out,” Sullivan confirmed, and Nathaniel agreed. He remained on the top deck to watch as the line of carriages carrying the president’s party approached the wharf. Mounted police officers rode ahead, alongside, and behind the carriages, and as instructed, there were no identifying decorations on the McKinley carriage.

By the time the president arrived, at least a thousand people had gathered to hear a brief speech. Cheers broke out as McKinley approached the podium, and a local band played “Hail to the Chief,” a song engraved on Nathaniel’s brain. When he was an old man, that tune would no doubt summon memories of this once-in-a-lifetime summer.

He scanned the crowd through his binoculars, searching for anyone who didn’t belong. All sorts had turned out today. Well-dressed men and ladies in their finest rubbed shoulders with longshoremen and street vendors. A little girl carried a lollipop almost as big as her head, and the child’s anxious mother tried to stop her from rubbing it in her hair.

The cheering went on for a full minute after McKinley mounted the podium. Caroline stood near the podium with the congressmen’s wives, smiling and clapping in the morning breeze. By heaven, she was lovely, and he stole a few seconds to indulge in the simple pleasure of admiring her.

A part of him wished they both lived in Chicago, where he could lead an uncomplicated life as an artist, and she could be a secretary for some local official. There wouldn’t be much money, but they could live simply. During the day he’d make engravings, and in the evenings they would go out to one of the many beer gardens, where they’d laugh and dance and sing long into the night.

“Get your head out of the clouds,” Sullivan said. “The speech is almost over, and we need to report to the main deck.”

“Of course,” Nathaniel said, pulling away from the railing. He shouldn’t be mooning over Caroline anyway.

Twenty minutes later, the presidential party was aboard, the gangway lifted, and the entrance secured. As the steamboat pulled away from shore, his tension began melting away. They were on a secure boat, and he could enjoy the ride like all the others onboard.

Everyone headed to the top deck, where the mayor of Natchez pointed out sights of interest to the president and congressmen. It didn’t take long to sail past the city, and then the slow-moving steamboat carried them into the marshlands, where cypress and tupelo trees draped with Spanish moss grew along the banks. Egrets picked through the cane grass while gulls swooped overhead.