Maybe she’s wishing she were on that steamboat, and I don’t blame her. The decks are lined with clean, white railings. Crowds of people stand at the upper levels, packed as tight as cattle in a flatboat. I take off my hat and wave to them, and they wave back. A few cheer at us. Their captain stands outside of what passes for a crow’s nest but looks like a gingerbread house. Beside it is a big bell, which he gives a yank and sets to ringing. Olive looses a rare grin, and little Andy runs around in a circle yelling “Ding, ding, ding!” until he suddenly falls down, giggling.

Mr. Joyner frowns through the whole thing, and I can’t imagine what’s in that man’s head. I’ve never seen such luxury in my life— That steamboat must be as fine as the finest hotel in Savannah, and if that’s not worth getting excited about, I don’t know what is.

It glides beyond us as quickly as it arrived, and we steer our humbler craft into the middle of the river and aim for a shore I can’t see.

“Pa, I want to ride a boat like that one,” Olive says.

Mr. Joyner removes the cigar from his mouth and blows out a cloud of smoke. “It’s a fine sight, isn’t it, darling?”

The girl’s mother brightens. “Mr. Joyner, perhaps we should pass the next part of our journey on a steamboat. It will make a wonderful memory for the children.”

Andy and Olive regard their parents with wide, hopeful eyes.

“I wouldn’t advise it.” The captain jumps in. “The accommodations are fine, for them that can afford it, but all the paddlers are overbooked and crowded.”

“But the cabins are nice?” Mrs. Joyner asks.

“Some of them, yes. Another word of warning: Lots of gambling takes place on those boats. If you go for a ride, hold on to your coin purses.”

Mr. Joyner brightens at “gambling,” but when he sees everyone staring at him, he frowns again. He takes a puff on his cigar and says, “I’ve read about this. It’s a swindle. They take you all the way up the Missouri, but in the end you have to walk south again to get back on track. We’re better off putting ashore here.”

Mrs. Joyner stares at him.

He hastily adds, “We’ll place our trust in my original plan. I see no reason to change our course before we’ve even reached the starting line. No, we’ll head overland for Independence as intended.” He gazes after the steamboat, though, his mustache twitching.