The sun leaned low over the river when Eli and Caleb walked back to the River Queen. Lamps already glowed in the tall windows, casting gold across the boardwalk. The sound of dice and laughter from the street softened as they stepped inside.

Harper met them in the hall, waistcoat neat, his bearing calm as if the night before had been nothing more than poor weather. But his eyes carried weight when he looked on them. He came forward with both hands open, no glass, no polish between them.

“Mr. Warren. Mr. Thorne. You did me and my house a service last night. My own name stands steadier in reputation this morning than it might have. For that, I thank you.”

Caleb gave a short nod, his voice steady. “We didn’t come to see your house fall, Mr. Harper. Only to keep our own feet under us.”

Eli met his eyes. “We came to say plain we’re not taking your offer of work. We’ll find our own road.”

For a moment Harper studied them both. Then he gave a small smile, not forced, but edged with respect. “A man who stands in the fire and keeps his head earns the right to choose his own course. I will not press you.”

He paused, then added with more warmth, “Know this, though. You are welcome under my roof if you ever need it. No debt, no chain. Only a host’s gratitude for men who stood when others faltered.”

The words settled easier than Eli expected. He gave a slow nod. “That’s fair spoken, Mr. Harper. We thank you.”

Harper gestured toward the windows where the light was fading. “At sundown or beyond, my own will see you safe to the levee. But now, I was just about to enjoy supper. Would you join me as my guests, please, before you go?”

Eli and Caleb exchanged a glance. Caleb’s mouth twitched in the shadow of a smile, and Eli gave a short nod. “We will, Mr. Harper.”

They followed him into a smaller dining room where lamps burned low and a long table was already set. Platters of roast fowl, bread still warm from the oven, and bowls of vegetables steamed in the lamplight. Harper waved them to their seats and poured wine for Caleb, water for Eli.

The meal carried a different weight than the night before. There were no merchants or lawyers, no music, no quarrel at the door. Just three men at a table, the clink of knives on china, and the murmur of steady talk. Harper asked about their years on the trail, spoke of the river’s growth, and listened more than he pressed. Caleb relaxed by degrees, and Eli found himself speaking more than he expected, though never about what lay ahead.

When the meal was finished Harper rose, his face calm, his voice steady. “Then we part on good terms.”

He extended his hand, and Eli clasped it firm. Caleb followed with his own.

As they stepped back into the street, the lamps were brighter, the river wind sharp on their faces. Behind them, the River Queen glowed with quiet warmth. Ahead lay the levee, and the road out.

—•—

Sometime after sundown, after their meal and light conversation, Harper kept his word. Two men in dark coats waited at the River Queen’s door, revolvers under their belts, lanterns in hand. Harper himself stepped out with Eli and Caleb, his presence enough to still the stares from the boardwalk.

“Gentlemen,” Harper said, his tone even. “The levee is not far. My men will see you there without trouble. I think I’ll join you as well. Seems a beautiful evening for a stroll.”

“Your courtesy is noted, Mr. Harper,” Eli answered.

The street was quieter than before, the clatter of wagons and calls of hawkers fading with the day. The escort kept close, their lanterns throwing short circles of light across the planks.

Halfway down the hill a figure leaned against a post where the glow thinned. He struck a match, lit a cigarette, and the flare showed the bowler hat and calm eyes fixed on them.

Caleb noticed him, too, and said as much to Eli in a soft whisper. “We’re being watched.”

Eli gave the smallest shake of his head. “I saw that, too.” The man was an observer, but observers were not to be taken without caution. Every unknown man was a possible threat in this city.

At the bottom of the slope Sheriff Dobbs stood with his thumbs hooked in his belt, watching the river. He turned as they came near, his eyes passing over Harper’s men before settling on Eli and Caleb.

“Good evening, gentlemen. Are you making your way out of Vicksburg? There’s been more blood spilled here than I’d like since you arrived.”

Harper spoke first, smooth as ever. “I see my guests to their passage, Sheriff. Nothing more.”

Dobbs gave a curt nod, then looked back at Eli. “Keep your irons close until the boat’s away. Some of Burke’s crowd are still sniffing for coin, but they’ll think twice with Harper beside you.”

Eli met his gaze. “We’ll see it done clean, Sheriff.”

Dobbs’s eyes narrowed a touch, then he gave a short grunt. “See that you do.”

The river wind carried the smell of tar and smoke as they walked the last stretch to the levee. Steam hissed from a packet boat tied up at the slip, her paddle wheels still. Harper stopped short of the gangway and faced them.

“My road keeps me here,” he said. “Yours carries you on. Go with my thanks, Mr. Warren. Mr. Thorne.”

Eli tipped his hat. “And ours with you, Mr. Harper.”

Harper gave the smallest bow, then turned back toward the lights of the city. His men lingered until Eli and Caleb set foot on the gangplank, then faded into the dark. On the rise above, the bowler-hatted man stood with his cigarette ember glowing faint in the night, the river light painting his face in shadow.

—•—

The wharf bustled with low voices and the thump of freight being rolled onto the gangplank. A clerk sat at a narrow table beneath a lantern, ledger open, spectacles slipping down his nose.

Eli stepped up first. “Two for St. Louis.” He laid the coin steady on the wood. The clerk counted quick, wrote their names rough in his book, and slid two paper tickets across. Caleb took his without a word.

Behind them, Harper’s men stood watch until the last trunk was loaded. Harper himself waited a step back, hands folded behind him, eyes calm. When Eli and Caleb turned from the clerk, Harper inclined his head once more.

“Safe travels, gentlemen.”

Eli gave a short nod. “Until we meet again, Mr. Harper.”

They crossed the gangplank. The deck creaked under their boots, the smell of pitch and steam heavy in the air. A deckhand pointed them forward, where a row of small cabins lined the passage. Eli opened the nearest, a narrow room with two bunks, a washstand, and a single lantern swaying with the river’s pull.

Caleb tossed his hat on the upper bunk and sat down with a slow breath. “Feels different already, Eli. Like the city’s behind us.”

Eli set his rifle in the corner and leaned against the doorframe, watching the deckhands cast off ropes. “The city’s behind us. Trouble may not be.”

From the cabin window he saw the glow of the levee slip away, Harper’s lanterns shrinking to sparks against the dark. On the rise above, a faint ember flared once more before it was cupped out.

The whistle sounded, long and low. The packet’s wheels churned the river into froth, and Vicksburg slid back into the night.