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about. We must consider their tender sensibilities."
    Upon hearing this, Delgado scoffed. The slave dealer was one to be concerned about the feelings of others!
    "I'll give you fifteen hundred for her," decided Horan.
    "Fifteen? Well, I . . ." Things were moving far too fast for the dealer.
    "Very well then. Two thousand dollars."
    "Two thousand!" Avarice gleamed in the dealer's eye.
    "Do you know who I am?"
    "I do not enjoy the privilege of your acquaintance, sir, but yes, I know who you are. Of course."
    "Then you know that any bank in St. Louis will honor my draft." Horan brandished a wallet. "I do not have quite enough cash on me. But I will write a note, payable upon receipt. In return, you will write out a proper bill of sale."
    The dealer was beginning to have second thoughts. "Mr. Horan, this one is a troublemaker. Her former master virtually gave her away, which should instruct you as to her—"
    Horan waved all that away with a dismissive gesture. "Then you will realize a particularly handsome profit, sir. How is she called?"
    "Her name is Naomi."
    "Naomi. If you cause me any trouble, girl, you will regret it. I will flay every inch of skin off your back. What a shame that would be, too, for you have very smooth and seductive skin." He stroked her cheek with two fingers. Naomi flinched, but did not move.
    "I can't let this happen," muttered Delgado to no one in particular. He started forward.
    Suddenly Falconer blocked his path. "Son, it's generally been my rule to let others make their own mistakes. But I'm obliged in this instance by my liking for you and my friendship with your father to interfere."
    "Stand aside," said Delgado rashly.
    "Let me ask you this, Del. Do you have the funds to buy the woman?"
    The question was like a dash of cold water, and Delgado faltered in his resolve.
    "Under the circumstances," continued Falconer, seeing that he was making headway, and desiring to press his advantage, "I doubt anyone here would honor a draft on a Santa Fe bank. And, say you made your purchase. How would you explain to your father that you had become a slaveholder?"
    "I would set her free straightaway," replied Delgado.
    Falconer glanced over his shoulder. Horan and the slave dealer stood less than a hundred feet from them, and Delgado, in his impulsive fervor, was speaking loudly, with no thought to the consequences of being overheard. But Horan and the dealer were engaged in their own conversation and seemed not to hear.
    "I admire your motives," said Falconer softly,"but not your means. Your father's commerce in this city would likely suffer if you go through with this deed, no matter how noble. This issue of slavery is tearing at the guts of this republic, Del. Feelings run high. The smallest spark can set off an explosion."
    "I've had a taste of it already," said Delgado. "That fellow, Horan, came close to hanging an abolitionist on board the
Sultana
this morning."
    "Came close? Knowing what I do of Brent Horan, I am surprised he didn't see it through."
    Practicing discretion, Delgado decided not to tell Hugh Falconer just how Horan had been dissuaded from committing cold-blooded murder.
    "I hate to think of her at Horan's mercy," he said, turning back to the subject at hand. But the rash impulse had run its course and subsided. He knew Falconer was talking perfect sense. Keen regret left a bitter taste in his mouth. He was powerless to help the slave girl.
    Falconer put a big, scarred hand on Delgado's shoulder. "It's likely you'd be doing her no service by setting her free. With her looks, manumission papers would not save her, unless you were willing to take her north yourself and hand her over to someone like William Lloyd Garrison or the Tappan brothers, who could protect her from the slave catchers."
    Sickened, Delgado climbed into the surrey. Falconer got in beside him, took up the reins, and with a flick of the leathers put the horse into motion, without resorting to the whip, which remained in its