. . waits me there . . . Oh heart . . . ! —Browning Several Days Later For the first several days the riverboat had moved calmly through the waters of the Mississippi. But on the seventh day, the day planned for the arrival to Saint Louis, snow had begun to fall, the wind blowing with tremendous violence. Mariah and Echohawk were in their cabin waiting out the storm, uneasy as they could feel the boat pitching to and fro in the water. They could hear the pounding of the waves, beating like thunder against the sides of the boat. The splash of the great paddle wheel seemed puny as it struggled through the fevered water. Oh, how the noise grated against Mariah’s nerves! “Perhaps we shouldn’t have boarded this . . . this monstrosity,” Mariah said, gladly accepting Echohawk’s arms around her. “At first I thought the boat was beautiful with its lacy latticework trim and fancy spindles, but now I feel as though it is nothing more than a toy.” She clung more strongly to him.
