Keelan and Daniel could have been any light brown-skinned man and his son as they shuffled along the street. Both held tightly to opposite handles of the trunk. Daniel’s soiled gray sack was perched on the lid and tied with a short piece of rope.
It was a bright, sunny spring afternoon in Charleston. King Street was a flurry of activity as hawkers scurried about setting up their carts with wares of every sort, vegetables, jams, wine, fruits, baskets, brightly colored yarns, meat pies, smoked hams, candles, livestock and a plethora of other necessities both big and small. Women tried to save the hems of their skirts by jumping over the slimy stream of malodorous run-off oozing along the curb, then stepping lightly across the slippery cobblestones, careful to avoid the piles of waste deposi
