In the pale sunlight of a fine Spring morning, the Gambler and the Mojo Woman walked down the ramp onto the huge wooden landing quai that buffeted the timeless waters of the Mississippi for the City of New Orleans. She was dressed in finery, a parasol under her arm, a fine poplin suit looking like finely-stirred vanilla brandy clothing her lithe form. They waved to their companions of so many miles and centuries, tipped the Deckhand, made their farewells to the brave Mate -- now Master -- of the Albert Hansell and strolled along the busy waterfront and into the French Quarter.
They took an outside table, order beignets and au lait, and waited. The Gambler paused in his conversation to let the memories of the long river trip re-sort themselves one more time -- the ordinary and the incredible interweaving in time, dimensions of the past and future coiling and springing -- it had been a hell of a trip, for certain. He smiled affectionately at his companion.

"It has been intersting, I'll say that."

"I never imagined that young Jeremy would havebeen the trigger of so many infoldings. When he broughtme that medallion, I knew exactly where things stood and saw it clearly. It was amatter of a moment's work to activate it, and the way time unwarped when th epower of that infernal device started humming, you'd a thought a gale was brewing right their in that cabin. The Herons couldn't stand the stresses -- they must have deconstructed right in mid-syllable up and down the temporal Mississippi, clear into the 35th century!"

"What did you do with that beautiful medallion?", she asked.

"Well, of course, I have dispatched it to Baton Rouge. It is the repository of Miss Sarah Belle's future fortunes. She may need it if they let her out of that Bedlam she is taking the waters at."

He looked down the street and smiled.

"Ahh! Our appointment arrives! Delightful".

Two beautiful red-headed women, turned out in fashionplate, approached their table smiling.

"Hello, Ma!" "Hello, Paw!", they chorused. They took seats across from the Gambler and the Mojo Woman, and babbled happily about their adventures. After a while, all tales had been exchanged, the au laits refilled a fourth time, and the beignets consumed. The busy bustle of a New Orleans morning on the river clattered around them; but they heard only what was in each others' eyes, the four of them tied irrevocably and inseparably together by the very fabric of time and life.

"Alright, family," the Gambler said gruffly. "Here's the plan for Californiay. Now, listen up!...."

And the spring sunlight of a New Orleans morning made everything warm, while the mighty river rolled on, and on, and on.

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