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shouting your name soon.”
    She’d promised she’d come running to the barn, calling for me when she felt a trip coming on.
    “ You better get ready,” she said. “We’re supposed to meet Robert Willingsworth in Boston. Finally, we get to do something interesting.”
    I was already doing something interesting. “You know,” I said, “I can see your silhouette with the candle burning.”
    “ What?” Casey’s voice went up several notches. “Close your eyes!”
    She made me laugh.
    “ Shut up!”
    “ I didn’t say anything.”
    “ Just be a gentleman and turn around.”
    “ And if I don’t?” I teased.
    “ If you don’t, I’ll–I’ll tell Jessica!”
    “ Jessica who?”
    “ Your girlfriend.”
    “ Oh, her.” As if I didn’t know. I enjoyed yanking her chain. “No need to freak. I’ve been turned around for ten minutes already.”
     
    ***
     
    We took one of two carriages owned by the Watsons.
    “ We need to use both,” Sara explained, “to get the whole Watson family to church on Sundays.”
    I couldn’t help staring at the altered sights out the window. I must’ve been gawking because Casey elbowed me and told me to shut my mouth. It was crazy to see a Boston without automobiles or electric streetlights. Just lots of horses and horse manure mounds plopped everywhere. All the modern buildings made of glass and steel were gone.
    The carriage stopped at a three story brick building that had a sign that said The United States Hotel.
    Never heard of it.
    “ This building isn’t around anymore,” I said, stating the obvious.
    “ Now we have Chinatown.”
    Casey looked stunning in the fancy blue dress she’d borrowed from Sara. It had a lot of fabric below the waist puffing out like an upside down bowl, but not much above it, a look which suited me fine. I tucked on the dinner jacket I’d gotten from Willie and then offered her a hand out. She rewarded me with a smile. I’d like to see more of those.
    Across the cobble street was a group of men, black mostly, who stood quietly holding a hand painted sign that said ABOLISH THE FUGITIVE ACT. I recognized one of them as being the guy at the breakfast table, Samuel.
    There was an energy in the air, an unrest, and I hoped there wouldn’t be any trouble.
    We followed Sara and Willie into the hotel lobby.
    “ This is a political meeting,” Casey said once we were inside. “The keynote speaker is discussing the hot issue of states’ rights and slavery.”
    “ So, a fun, light evening, then,” I said. “Will we see Lincoln?”
    “ No, but if you look to your right you’ll see Ralph Waldo Emerson seated beside Nathaniel Hawthorne.”
    “ Ah, the author,” I said, remembering my introduction to Sara Watson.
    Sara was speaking with a tall, dark-haired man who wore a top hat and long coat with tails. Even from a distance I sensed his self-importance. He wasn’t listening well to whatever it was that Sara was saying. I felt my stomach churn. His eyes had locked in on Casey.
    Soon his long thin legs had him at her side.
    “ Miss Donovan!” he said boisterously. Then he took her gloved hand and lifted it to his lips, a pompous move that I knew Casey would find disconcerting and it made me grin.
    “ What in heaven’s name happened to you at Faneuil Hall?” he said. “You disappeared into thin air!”
    “ Yes, I had to leave suddenly. A courier had delivered news that my mother was very ill and I rushed home immediately.”
    “ I’m so sorry to hear that.”
    “ But,” Sara said, having joined us, “she returned to us with her brother.”
    “ Oh, yes,” Casey said. “Robert, I’d like you to meet my, uh, brother, Nathaniel.”
    He stretched out his hand. “Mr. Donovan. It’s my pleasure.”
    Mr. Donovan? Casey’s eyes sparkled with humor. I bit my cheek to keep from smirking.
    This Robert guy was really annoying. He pushed his way in as we selected seats, ensuring that he had a chair next to Casey. It was more than obvious