I glance toward Peony to make sure she’ll stay in view, and I step onto the deck, which looked solid enough from shore but is actually in a constant state of sway. As my legs adjust, Joe hands me a tin cup steaming with coffee. It’s hot enough to scald my tongue, but no bitter liquid has ever tasted so sweet.

Red Jack returns carrying three small chairs and a table, which they set up on the open deck. “Well, don’t stand there like a begging dog, sit down for supper,” Red Jack says.

I can’t believe my luck. I pull up a seat, and Joe slaps down three bowls of grits mixed with runny eggs. The other two start eating, but I hesitate to dig in.

“Don’t be shy, boy,” Joe says to me. “Eggs and grits make as fine a supper as they do a breakfast.”

It’s the “boy” that does it. I shovel the mess into my mouth like a starving stray. Joe sure likes his salt, more than Mama ever put on our food, but I don’t mind one bit. “Thank you,” I say around a huge mouthful.

“So, you’re an argonaut, eh?” Red asks. “Heading to California with the rest?”

I swallow and say, “I’ve got a friend—well, practically family—who’s going west, and I said I’d meet up with him in Independence, like we read about in the paper.”

Joe nods knowingly. “Lots of folks meeting up there. But Mr. Joyner is the only one who can decide on passengers.”

I frown. Guess I’ll have to work up the courage to introduce myself to that fine and proper man after all. Might be worth it to spend the money for a shoeshine first. Maybe even a barber to fix my sawed-off hair. If I can work up the courage to go to a barber.

No, doing anything in town puts me and Peony at risk of being discovered.

“But he doesn’t have any say over the crew,” says a voice behind me.

I look over my shoulder. He’s the roughest of the bunch so far, with a square jaw, uneven stubble that makes him look like he shaves with a spoon, and red-rimmed eyes from either exhaustion or drink. Joe slaps another bowl of grits down on the table and gives up his chair for the newcomer.

“I don’t know anything about crewing boats,” I say, eyeing him warily. He looks too much like the brothers who robbed me, with his unkempt hair and ratty shirt. “To be completely honest, this is the first time I ever set foot on one.”

The newcomer swallows his coffee. “If you want to hire a flatboat to carry you over to the Mississippi, I can recommend some to you.”