A Most Unsuitable Match Read Online Free PDF

and to him, an empty inch in the hold or an extra minute on the levee meant lost revenue.
    “If you still want to be on board when we pull away,” Lamar said at one point, nodding at the crates Samuel had stacked into the hold, “you’d better get that straightened up and tucked in.” Davis showed him how to move things around so that an extra grain sack fit into the space Samuel had called full.
    It didn’t take a practiced eye to realize the captains on the waterfront were rivals in just about every aspect of steamboating. The Delores couldn’t win when it came to size, but Busch made it clear as he bellowed orders throughout the day that he expected to win the race to be underway. Late in the day, when two other steamers pulled away ahead of them, Busch called one of the mates up to the wheelhouse and gave him a talking-to heard by every single one of the crew. After that, no one told a joke or said a word lest the mate accuse them of lollygagging.
    The captain’s cheeks burned with resentment when the Sam Cloon pulled out, its decks crowded with uniformed soldiers hooting and hollering insults at the Delores as their steamer chuffed into the Mississippi’s deep channel and headed north toward the mouth of the Missouri.
    The last crate had barely been settled on the Delores ’s deck when Busch was backing her into the middle of the wide river, yelling, “Fill her fireboxes, I want more steam!” He gave chase after the Sam Cloon , but when they reached the Missouri and it was nearly dark, Busch nosed the vessel up against a wharf for the night. When Samuel wondered why they didn’t keep going, Lamar gave him a lesson on the ways of the river known as Old Misery.
    “Compared to the Mississippi, it’s little more than flowing mud, son. Studded with dead tree trunks and broken up by sandbars. Just when a captain thinks he knows her, she cuts a new channel, throws up a new sandbar, drags a few more trees down into the water, and there’s a whole new river.” Lamar pointed up toward the wheelhouse. “He’s the best there is at reading the water, but you’ve got to see it to read it. He won’t risk the Delores just to catch the Sam Cloon . At least not yet. There’s plenty of river ahead of us and plenty of time for proving who’s fastest.”
    As night gathered, some of the men produced fishing poles and cast lines into the murky water hoping to snag a catfish. Others struck up card games. Most slept. One group gathered around a southern boy and listened while he played his mouth harp. Samuel took a lamp and settled near the wagon he intended to sleep beneath. Bracing his back against one of the wheels, he dug his mother’s Bible out of his carpetbag and set to reading. It had been days since he’d opened the book, and as he followed the fine print with his finger, he felt pangs of guilt about his failure. Ma had found something on these pages that seemed to be almost as vital to her as a cool drink on a hot day. Samuel needed to find what it was.
    Lamar found him reading. “You got yourself a good book there, son.”
    Samuel shrugged. “Can’t seem to make much of it. Just a bunch of begat s on this page. Can’t figure why they’d put that in.”
    Lamar smiled. “Can’t say as I know. But I will say it’d be somethin’ to know your line all the way back to the very first man.” He nodded at the open space beside Samuel. “Mind if I join you?”
    Samuel moved over and Lamar sat down beside him, his back against the other half of the wheel, the hub between them. Once he’d settled, Lamar said, “You know all the bee-gats in your family line?”
    Samuel thought for a moment. “My pa used to expound on how his father was with General Jackson in the Battle of New Orleans and so on. If he wasn’t lying, I guess we go all the way back to the Declaration of Independence. Pa always claimed one of our blood relatives even signed it. Can’t remember his name, though.”
    “ Hoo-ee ,” Lamar said,