As the good woman bustled from the kitchen, I quickly imbibed the remainder of the invigorating brew. Then, plucking the napkin from my shirt collar, I rose from my seat and repaired directly to my bedroom. Judging from the dismal aspect of the sky, I could see that there would be no immediate respite from the dispiriting weather that, for the past several days, had held our fair city in so chill and oppressive a sway. I removed my hat and cloak from their respective wall-hooks and hurried from the room.

As I approached the open front door, I saw Muddy posed at the threshold conversing with Crockett, who was standing just outside our doorway beside a handsome pair of steeds—one a bay, the other a strawberry roan. Both sets of reins were clutched in his gloved right hand.

“Mornin’, pard,” he exclaimed when he saw me. “I was just tellin’ your Aunty Clemm here not to fret if we ain’t returned by sundown, seein’ as how we got us a considerable sight of country to cover afore we reach that Ash—”

Standing directly to the rear of Muddy—and thus safely out of her sight—I shook my head vigorously at Crockett. The frontiersman’s eyes widened slightly in surprise, then flickered with a glint of recognition as the meaning of my gesture dawned on him.

“—afore we reach, uh, that place we’re headin’ to,” he concluded.

Donning my hat and cloak, I made my way past my aunt and out onto the quiet street, whereupon the frontiersman held out the reins of the bay. Grasping these, I placed my left foot in the stirrup and mounted the equine in one motion.

“I am sorry the weather isn’t nicer for your trip,” said Muddy to us both.

“Ain’t as bad as all that, Mizz Clemm,” said Crockett as he swung himself onto his steed. “I been out huntin’ when the day was so miserable cold that the very sunrise froze fast as it was tryin’ to dawn! Why, this-here day is as splendid as a sunny mornin’ in June by comparison. Speakin’ o’ which—you tell Miz Virginny that ol’ Davy Crockett is looking forward to hearin’ her sing ag’in. Hang me up for bear-meat if that li’l gal’s voice ain’t as sweet as a canary-bird’s.”

“I will tell her you said so,” Muddy said with a broad, beaming smile

“And tell her for me,” I declared, “that this cheerless spring morn has been rendered even more dismal, since I must now pass an entire day without a glimpse of her fair countenance!”

“I certainly will, dear,” said Muddy. Then, with a little wave of her hand, she bade us farewell and—as we reined our steeds around and headed off along Amity Street—called out a parting valediction:

“Have fun, boys!”