Free Creighton Manor by Karen Michelle Nutt

steam billowing into the clear blue sky. The trill of a riverboat's unique whistle echoed in the distance. Two boys ran past her. “It’s the Diamond Fair rounding the bend.” The blond, freckled face boy shouted.
    “ I can hear the whistle, you know.” The dark haired boy turned to look at his friend behind him and didn’t see the woman until it was too late. He plowed into her. She lost her footing and all her packages flew from her hands, scattering around her. The little brat didn’t even stop to apologize, but continued on his way laughing as if he’d p er formed a comedic act.
    Gillian ran over to help her. “Some children can be so rude.” She bent down to pick up the parcels. The woman was striking with dark skin of ebony. Her eyes were just as dark and framed with long thick lashes. She stared at Gillian with an expression filled with unease.
    “Thank you ma’am.” The woman accepted the package. She gathered the rest and rose quickly to her feet. Her eyes flicker ed warily around before she turned and walked away. She glanced back at Gillian, a hesitant smile touching her lips before she gave a slight nod of her head.
    Gillian stood there for a moment wondering why the woman acted as if she were afraid. She glanced around noticing a few patrons staring, some of them with a look that condemned her for her actions. Then the unsettling realization weaved through her consciousness. This wasn’t her laid-back beach town, but the Deep South, 1870 where prejudices ruled their thinking. The war freed the slaves and destroyed fortunes. The boll weevil will attack the cotton crop, if it hadn’t already and the railroads would soon threaten the river trade. They needed someone to blame for their misfortunes.
    Mississippi returned to the Union less than six months ago, and they were a long way from accepting it was morally wrong to own another human being. Her gaze caught and held a man’s who stood in the doorframe of the mercantile. His eyes narrowed with a cold stare meaning to intimidate her. She refused to be bullied and tilted her chin up in defiance. Surprisingly, he looked away first and went back inside his shop. She let out the breath she’d been holding.
    She returned to the boardwalk and out of the mud to wait for Zachary. She noticed two men had taken a seat on a bench in front of the barbershop. She recognized one of the men as Cyrus Locke. She stood just to the side of them, hoping he wouldn’t see her. The last thing she wanted was to have more attention drawn to her. They were looking over a newspaper and commenting on one of the articles. She hadn’t meant to eavesdrop, but she recognized the topic of their conversation.
    “Hannibal, you can’t believe what it says here.” Cyrus tapped the paper with his hand. “Cannon and Leathers are at it again. They have posted cards now. Cannon’s card reports that his steamer, the Robert E. Lee will leave Louisville on the 30th of June, but will not be racing. He assures the community that the safety and comfort of his passengers comes first. ” He turned the page. “Here’s Leather s ’ post. He states the rumors are not true. The Natchez’s reputation as being fast is enough satisfaction to him. He assures everyone concerned he will not race any boat that may leave the same day.” Cyrus folded the paper and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “I don’t know about you Hannibal, but I don’t believe a word of this. They'll race. I bet Leather s ’ boat will win, too .”
    "No, I don't think so,” Hannibal said as he shook his head. “Cannon is the one that will pull this off .”
    The two men headed down the walk still debating on who would win. Gillian chuckled. If she had any money, she would place a bet herself since she already knew that John W. Cannon and his ship the Robert E. Lee would be the winner.
    Gillian looked down the walk. “Where are you Zachary?” Perhaps he forgot about her.
    ***
    Zachary strolled at a leisurely pace,