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damp, wooden receptacle. Right ahead, the water came sizzling and streaming down from above, and gradually the boat would rise again, finally coming to a respectable elevation. The gates swung open, Kelly hooked the mules back to the towrope, and they resumed their voyage.
    Ahead was another lock, and Papa blew on his conch shell, letting the lock tender know he was coming. When they approached the lock, Kelly saw another boat ahead of them. They would have to wait their turn.
    Suddenly, a third boat came alongside Papa’s. “Move outta my way!” the captain shouted. “I’m runnin’ behind schedule and should’ve had this load delivered by now.”
    “I was here first,” Papa hollered in response. “You’ll have to wait your turn.”
    “Oh, yeah? Who’s gonna make me?” The burly looking man with a long, full beard shook his fist at Papa.
    Standing on the bank next to the mules, Kelly watched as Mama stepped up beside Papa. She touched his arm and leaned close to Papa’s ear. Kelly was sure Mama was trying to get Papa calmed down, like she always did whenever he got riled.
    Kelly took a few steps closer to the canal and strained to hear what Mama was saying.
    “Don’t tell me what to do, woman!” Papa yelled as he leaned over the side of his boat. The other craft was right alongside him, and the driver of the mules pulling that boat stood next to Kelly.
    The young boy, not much more than twelve or thirteen years old, gave Kelly a wide grin. His teeth were yellow and stained. Probably from smoking or chewing tobacco, Kelly figured. “Looks like my pa is gonna beat the stuffin’s outa your old man,” he taunted.
    Kelly glanced back at the two boat captains. They were face-to-face, each leaning as far over the rails as possible. She sent up a quick prayer. Not this time, Lord. Please help Papa calm down.
    “Move aside, or I’m comin’ over there to clean your clock,” the burly man bellowed.
    “Amos, please!” Mama begged as she gripped Papa’s arm again. “Just let the man pass through the lock first. This ain’t worth gettin’ into a skirmish over.”
    Papa shot the man a look of contempt and grabbed hold of the tiller in order to steer the boat. “I’ll let it go this time, but you’d better never try to ace me out again.”
    Kelly breathed a sigh of relief as Papa steered the boat aside and the other vessel passed through the lock. She’d seen her hot-tempered father use his fists to settle many disagreements in the past. It was always humiliating, and what did it prove—that Papa was tougher, meaner, or more aggressive than someone else? As far as Kelly could tell, nothing good had ever come from any of Papa’s fistfights. He was a hotheaded Irishman who’d grown up on the water. His dad had been one of the men who’d helped dig the Lehigh Canal, and Papa had said many times that he’d seen or been part of a good many fights throughout his growing-up days. If only he would give his heart to Jesus and confess his sins, the way Kelly and Mama had done.
    Herman nuzzled Kelly’s shoulder, and she turned to face her mule friends. If God really loves me, then why doesn’t He change Papa’s heart?
    ***
    Mike had been busier than usual the last couple days, and that was good. It kept him from thinking too much about Kelly McGregor. How soon would she and her family stop at his store again? Could he manage to sell any of her drawings before they came? Was Kelly the least bit interested in him? All these thoughts tumbled around in Mike’s head whenever he had a free moment to look at Kelly’s artwork, which he’d displayed on one wall of the store. The young woman had been gifted with a talent so great that even a simple, homemade charcoal drawing looked like an intricate work of art. At least Mike thought it did. He just hoped some of his customers would agree and decide to buy one of Kelly’s pictures.
    As Mike wiped off the glass on the candy counter, where little children had left