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morning if you like,” Dawson was saying to Mister Byner.
    “Splendid, Mister Blakely, we’ll start at first light. That will work out fine.”
    “Sorry for the delay, but it couldn’t be helped. She’s as good as new now and ready for the trip.”
    “Thank you, Mister Blakely. Now if you’ll excuse me. Ma’am,” Mister Byner bowed to Kathleen and disappeared into the crowd.
    “What will be ready in the morning, Dawson?” Kathleen looked up at him.
    “A steamboat,” he smiled, returning his full attention to her.
    “A steamboat? You own one?”
    “Yes, Kathleen, several,” Dawson answered, matter of factly.
    “You have more than one?” She peered up at him, surprised.
    Dawson laughed, “Yes, dear, what’s so strange about that?”
    “Dawson Blakely, you never told me you owned any boats, much less more than one.” The blue eyes widened as she looked up at him.
    “I never thought you’d be interested, Kathleen. It’s part of my business. They aren’t pleasure boats, they’re cargo vessels, packet boats. I’m afraid there’s nothing very exciting about them.”
    “But it is exciting, Dawson. Oh, I want to see one of your boats. May I?”
    “Sure you can, honey. Now, would you like to dance, they’re playing a waltz.”
    “No, I don’t want to dance! I want to see your boat, Dawson Blakely. You said I could.”
    “You mean now,” he laughed at her and jerked a blond curl playfully. “Dear, I didn’t mean tonight. This is a party; I thought you loved parties and dancing. And it’s cold out, remember. You can see it another day.”
    “No,” Kathleen reached up to his lapel. “Please, Dawson, take me to see your boat tonight . It would be so exciting and I won’t be cold. Oh, please.”
    “Kathleen, your father would horsewhip me if I took you down to the river tonight and you know it. I want to please you, honey, but you are being foolish.” But the thought of being alone with her intrigued him greatly.
    She saw the look in his dark eyes and pressed him. “Oh, Dawson, no one need know. Father will never find out; he’ll think we are still at the party. And it’s so crowded here, no one will miss us.” She fluttered the thick black lashes at him and put as much honey into her voice as possible.
    Finding her utterly irresistible, Dawson agreed against his better judgment. Smiling and leaning close, he whispered in her ear, “How can I refuse you. Get your wrap and let’s be off.”
    They were in the back of Dawson’s big carriage, the chill November wind stinging their faces. “Are you cold, pet?” Dawson was gracious as the carriage left the bluffs and headed for the river.
    “Not at all. Really.” Kathleen was too excited to feel the cold. She wanted to see Dawson’s boat and was also thrilled at the prospect of going to Natchez Under at night. Kathleen had heard all the stories of the things that went on down there and could hardly wait to see for herself.
    They reached the bottom and already she could hear boisterous laughter and shouting and was eager to get to the scene of all the merriment. The driver turned the carriage down Silver Street and Kathleen looked out in wide-eyed amazement. Yellow-skinned barkers stood on the street and shouted out the pleasures to be found on this main street, the toughest in all Mississippi. She saw drunken men staggering along the wooden sidewalks and she gasped when she saw half-naked women leaning out of windows calling to them. Loud piano music drifted to the carriage along with high feminine laughter. Kathleen saw the dregs of humanity all gathered together in a hell she could never have imagined. It was all terribly shocking and fascinating to Kathleen Diana Beauregard and she stared in horrified wonder at the scenes they passed. Most shocking of all to her was that all the men under the bluffs were not river rats, boat crewman, Negro musicians, or white trash. She gasped audibly while, practically leaning out of the carriage for an