The boat rolled slightly and Simms, unused to such movement, found himself having to hold onto the edge of the table as Ives poured out two healthy measures of whisky. He slid one across the tabletop and motioned for Simms to sit. Across from him, Ives unfolded the delivered message and considered the words quietly for a few moments. When he"d finished, he put the letter down and took a large mouthful of his drink.
“This is not good news,” he said, staring into the bottom of his glass as he rolled it between his palms. “They want me to take on board troops, transport them up river to outflank the Mormons.”
Simms didn"t know what to say, so he sat and waited, watching Ives becoming more agitated, fingernails rapping on the glass, his mouth like a cow"s, ruminating.
Ives spoke as if to hi
