I walked. Just simply walked. No hurry, no stomping, I just walked. I walked like I was only going down to take a look at the river.

I walked like I didn’t give a damn and the truth was that I didn’t. I had about forty yards to walk down to the river and the morning was starting to turn nice, so I enjoyed myself and walked.

It would have been a nicer walk if I could have listened to the morning birds, instead I could only hear the harpy screeching and screaming behind me. Even that noise stopped after about 20 yards so I wasn’t fussed about that noise either way.

I simply walked down to the water's edge and sat down on a log to pull off my boots, I would have to wade out to the boat and wasn’t the least bit interested having to deal with waterlogged boots the next few days. I heard the patting of footsteps running up behind me and the desperate yet annoying voice of Mrs. Browne. I had only managed to remove one boot and accompanying sock when she arrived.

"I’m sorry Zach! I’m so sorry, I don’t know what came over me! Please forgive me, Zach.” She pleaded in her best manipulative tone.

I simply turned and looked at her blandly and stated, “It’s Mr. Narrator to you.”

The look that flashed across her face said a lot more than she wanted me to hear, she paused for a moment and then turned on the waterworks. Now back when I was a very young man I would fall for the crying bit when girls played that card, but that was then and I had learned a lot since that time. Now it just pissed me off.

“You apparently still aren’t ready to go since your bedroll and bag are still up in the camp site.

"Tell you what, that boat is leaving as soon as I wade out there and climb on board. If you are ready you can go with us so I suggest you run fast because personally I’d rather leave you here.”

With that being said I turned back and started tugging off my remaining boot, it sounded like she left at a sprint – so much for crying. I stuffed my socks down into my boots, stood up and walked into the river.

I was at the steamboat, chest deep in the river, handing my boots up to Amos when I heard heavy breathing and her splashing into the water behind me. I handed the boots up, turned to look at her and said loudly “Stop!”

Now I could see a look of panic on her face, the evil part of my soul was pleased to see the hope wash out of her eyes.

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I pointed back at the skiff, “You ride in that boat today.”

I turned back and allowed the boatmen to help me up onto the deck, I could hear the boatman that was holding the skiff tell her to hurry the fuck up. I ended up watching the show from up on the roof deck sitting in one of her chairs while pulling my boots back on. Sven and Amos were watching the show with me, Doc Browne had done the smart thing and stayed with his kids inside the cargo house. Those poor kids didn’t need to suffer the spectacle of their mother's humiliation.

By this point she was completely flustered and appeared to be crying real tears. The boatman seemed to take pity on her and threw her bedroll and blanket up onto the skiff for her. He wasn’t able to help her up though, as his focus was needed to steady the skiff so it didn’t flip when she climbed in. At least that was what I told him to say.

She only fell back into the river twice before she figured out how to pull herself in. In the meantime she had managed to completely soak herself. I wasn’t cruel enough to laugh out loud but I did enjoy the sweet taste of minor victory as she sat there shivering on that tiny bow seat. Truth to be told I did buy into the betting pool on how long it would take her to figure out that she had a blanket to warm herself with, right there in her dry bedroll. Sadly I didn’t win that pool bet.

I heard the solid thunk of the paddle wheel gear engaging and after a minute or so the slow change of momentum shift as we began to gently gain forward momentum against the current. The boatman who had assisted her had climbed up one of the tow ropes to board the steamboat and we were finally on the go.

She would have a miserable trip of it today but once she finished her current self-pity party and took a look around she would discover a bag with bread, cheese and fruit in it stashed in plain sight. She’d also find a flaxen water bag right next to it, drinking directly from the river was strictly forbidden. Bears may shit in the woods from time to time but it’s a well known fact that they always piss in the water.

I was done with her for the day, I didn’t want to see her or talk about her before tomorrow morning. All I really wanted was to finally have my morning cup of coffee. So I took that rocking chair I had requisitioned from her furniture pile and set it up at my favorite location on the roof deck. Then I grabbed my cup and headed over to get my long overdue morning coffee. After I’d had that coffee and a smoke, I’d find some food and finally settle down for the day’s journey.

Alas! I despaired, for the cupboard was bare! Damned to an endless torture by an empty pot and cruel compatriots who would gluttonize a man’s coffee!

In other words they had drank all of my damned coffee and not bothered to put a new pot to boil. I damn near lost my mind and was building up quite a head of steam cursing. The initial anathemas were mostly unheard but the stress of the situation came flowing out of me with increasing volume. I do recall telling Sven that he was lower than whale shit because whales shit on the bottom of the deepest ocean and he was lower than that.

I was so wound up that I didn’t even hear their laughter, I just damned them even harder until a mug of coffee was produced and stuffed into my hands. It took me a few moments to realize that I’d just been had by a third grade level prank. I grabbed the mug, stalked over to my new seat, sat down and sipped my morning coffee and smoked my morning cigarette.

The sun broke through and all was right in my world again.