Tony knew better than to attend the McReynolds rally, though he had feigned an interest the week before. Still, somehow he found himself meandering down the pathway that cut through the plaza at the start of the evening on the exact Wednesday when Regis McReynolds had planned his event.

From Tony's location on the pat beside the rally, he could make out the forms and faces of Sam Lincoln and his ridiculous little gang of sycophants where they stood near the foot of the platform. Grandiose music blasted the usually peaceful park and sent squirrels and birds scampering for cover. I understand completely, Tony silently commiserated with the fleeing wildlife.

In Tony's opinion, Sam's continued influence in the neighborhood reinforced Tony's poor opinion of pretty much all establishment. For one, though Tony might see the value in an education in general, the fact that the school Tony's brothers attended would prove willing to bestow a degree on Sam Lincoln proved that the institution deserved little or no respect. Also, the ridiculous idea of Sam's holding any influence in a political arena erased Tony's faith in the integrity of public office.

Still, Tony wouldn't have described himself as jaded. He knew just enough people like Jerome that Tony retained some hope for his adopted hometown. In some nearby towns, he knew, people had accomplished a modicum of success in establishing a more civil society. He wondered, though, if politics had played even a marginal role in fixing their problems.

He thought it more likely that the smaller towns had fewer problems because, like the unsettled waters that churn around the meeting place of a few small streams, the combined current in a small town couldn't possibly produce too much turbulence. With the size and diversity of St. Louis, Tony felt it a better analogy to say that the Mississippi met the Amazon just before it hit the Nile head-on. The sheer powers of the rivers caused such cross-currents and violent upheavals that the merging into one would require more time and energy, and progress would need to settle in the deep waters before it reached the roiling surface.

Tony's mind dallied so intently in thought that Sam had reached within a few paces before Tony snapped to awareness. So stupid, he reprimanded himself for his lack of attention. He just felt grateful for the nearby crowd because he knew that Sam wouldn't try anything in front of so many witnesses.

"You joining the cause, Tony?"

Shooting Sam a glare, Tony just smiled, waiting for Sam to say something worth acknowledging.

"Looks lost to me," a pretty redhead ducked her head in Tony's direction before actually spanning the gap to reach toward Tony's arm. "Why don't we like him?"

Tony huffed a silent chuckle, and Sam barked out a simultaneous laugh. "Tony doesn't much care for Mr. McReynolds."

The redhead ran her fingertips up Tony's arm and peered into his face.

"And he doesn't really like my friends, either," Sam continued as the girl laced her arms through Tony's.

I don't like coercive tactics and bribery, Tony silently clarified. The girl would not have cared; Tony had too often watched the manipulations of such women in their quest to latch onto importance. Play the brainless piece of arm candy to the person who might raise her up a notch or two.

While Tony felt compassion at what he knew were her dearth of other options, he did not retain so much pity as to excuse her. He knew too many other women who had chosen a more noble, if a little less ready, path to importance. They were the same type of people as Jerome, dissatisfied with the injustices they faced, but willing to work the hard way to receive the payoff. Not a payout, he shot silently toward Sam.

"Too bad," the girl offered in a suggestive tone, and Tony worked hard not to cringe away from her barely-masked solicitation. Beauty could only make a girl attractive to a certain point; Tony's approbation required a measure of substance.

Before Sam could spout another veiled verbal shot, a renewed blast of brass sounded from the stage. The interruption drew Tony's attention from the pair before him, and when he looked up, he noted two things. First, he recognized two of the musicians in the band as some of those from Marcel's club. Tony knew that musicians didn't usually discriminate in their clientele, so in and of itself this didn't bother him too much. Still, he determined to mention it to Jerome. Secondly, Tony could make out the figure of a short, stocky man who detached himself from the crowd and headed toward Sam. If the girl had not so firmly grasped his arm, Tony would have excused himself immediately, not interested in entertaining conversation with anyone connected to the McReynolds campaign.

"Did you drum up a new supporter?" the man posed pleasantly as he drew within earshot of the group.

Again, Sam guffawed, perhaps more boisterously than the occasion would require, and gestured back at Tony with his head. "Carson, meet Tony Garner. Tony, Carson McReynolds, Regis's brother."

"Tony," the man's grin transformed into a sneer, and he lay emphasis on the name as if it held some significance. "Tony," he scoffed with barely hidden haughtiness. "Interesting name choice to go with the nice British 'Garner."

Irritated, Tony blurted out his response with perhaps more vehemence than he intended. "It's Italian," he offered. "My father changed our name after we moved to the states."

A knowing look darkened Carson McReynolds's eyes, and Tony recognized the visceral prejudice some in the town still held for the Italians. "Well, we're not picky," Carson oozed superciliously. "All money is green, after all."

Except for hush money, Tony continued his silent participation in dialogue. It's blood red.

"I don't think Tony has a problem with the color of your money," Sam explained. "He doesn't necessarily agree with our sources of funding." An understanding seemed to pass between Sam and Carson, and Tony made sure to throw his own glare toward the campaigner's brother. Tony knew that the Irishman had fully comprehended Tony's antagonism. Still, Tony stared intrepidly into the man's eyes. Though he didn't particularly want a fight, Tony wouldn't shy away from one if forced into it; not if the battle lines separated honest men from coercive bullies.

"Well, we can't win them all," Carson feigned resignation. "Still, Tony looks like a smart enough boy to avoid causing a disturbance for the McReynolds campaign."

Of course, Tony recognized the last phrase for its true intent: a smart person would stay out of matters that he couldn't control, and especially those matters that might end with Tony's floating face-down in the river. Tony had seen the results of offending Regis McReynolds.

Always rising to a challenge, Tony grinned at Carson McReynolds with amusement.

"I am smart," Tony offered. "Don't worry about that."

Returning Tony's smile, Carson turned and patted Sam on the shoulder, effectively ending the conversation. "We'll see you tonight, then," Carson said to Sam while winking at the redhead.

Before Sam could lay into him again, Tony reached up to unentwine the girl's fingers from his arm and took a step back. "Always a pleasure," he nodded sarcastically toward Sam. "Ma'am," Tony offered as respectfully as he could to the girl he had escaped before turning his back on the crowd.

"Why did you even go through there if you knew McReynolds was having a rally?" Mario complained ten minutes later as Tony paced irritatedly around their kitchen.

"It's a public park, Mario. I'm not going to avoid taking the most logical route just to avoid a bunch of lowlifes."

Mario shook his head. "For someone who's not looking for trouble, you sure have a way of finding it."

Disgusted, Tony turned to face his brother. "Don't talk to me about avoiding trouble. You never take any greater risks than switching which topic you're going to study over the next few weeks. I'm trying to make some real changes here, and if that involves some danger, then so be it. I'd rather suffer on the way to justice than sit comfortably home and let someone else suffer instead."

At any other time, the insult would have sent Mario into a defensive rant, too close a characterization to leave alone. Today, however, Mario felt a surge of curiosity that surprised him. Tony was right. Under usual circumstances, Mario would know nothing about taking risks. Even with his new joint venture with Barbara and Marissa, Mario felt little immediate concern for his safety, but he intellectually realized that he had taken on some fairly nefarious forces. What if they found out his identity and sought to cause him harm? He felt no personal fear yet, but he did find a new admiration in himself for his crazy, nonconformist brother who held a general disregard for personal safety.

"You're right," Mario admitted, and Tony turned to his brother with surprise.

What would lead Mario to the sudden about-face? Tony wondered. Tony had never known his brother to hold a high view of unnecessary risks. Curious, Tony stared into his brother's face. Something new danced behind Mario's eyes, and Tony couldn't resist asking the question.

"I'm right about what?" he begged skeptically.

"Real change might be dangerous," Mario shrugged. "I guess someone has to take the risks."

Again, Tony tried to see beneath the surface of his brother's apparent change of heart. Nothing offered itself by way of explanation.

Mario continued, "You're also right that I haven't really understood why you do what you do, and that maybe the family has underestimated its importance."

Dumbfounded, Tony just stared at his brother. After a minute, Tony said, "Are you in trouble?" Nothing made sense of Mario's new attitude, unless maybe the older brother had suddenly run into a risk he couldn't avoid.

Instead of a confession, Mario burst out in laughter. "Absolutely not!" he exclaimed. "I leave that to you. I'm just saying I can see why you go running around town stirring things up. I have no interest in following in your footsteps."

Unfortunately, Mario seemed unwilling to share any more of his thoughts on the subject, and Tony found himself inexplicably irritated when Mario adeptly turned the subject away from himself.

"Speaking of trouble," he began, "Pop needs you to run some errands if you're willing."

Tony wanted to retreat, leave before his brother could continue, but Mario had so swiftly introduced the subject that Tony hadn't had time to see its approach. For one moment, he had almost felt a connection with his brother, but it had fogged over as old ghosts rose to cloud his vision. His resentment stirred involuntarily with the gratingly familiar topic of Tony's inferiority, but the foreign sense of filial kinship slipped easily through his unpracticed fingers. If Tony had a grasp on one expectation from his family, it was that Tony deserved disdain because of his preference for action over cerebration. Tony preferred to think of his character as one of a man who could get things done, not a man who couldn't think. Action didn't preclude thought. "I'm not Pop's errand boy," he spat, sidetracked from his curiosity about his brother by his irritation about the new topic.

Even if Tony had lost the sense of kinship, Mario apparently hadn't, because his next words held a note of underlying compassion and respect. "Of course you're not, Tony. Pop knows that, too. You just have a different skill set than we do. We're kind of stuck in our books."

Again, Tony gaped in shock. Had his brother lost his wits? Tony didn't trust anything that looked good on the surface, and he had waited his whole life to hear his brothers or father see his value. Tony didn't entirely believe the respect he was hearing in his brother's tone.

"Don't look at me that way," Mario chuckled.

"What way?"

"Like I've suddenly grown a second head," his eyes twinkled. "People change. I, of all people, like to learn, and maybe I've learned something new recently."

"Your books don't tell you risk is a good thing," Tony contradicted his brother, unconvinced. "Abstract theory can't comprehend that fact."

"Well, my books tell me lots of useful things, and some of them do hint at the value of taking chances. But you're right, I didn't learn this in books. Now, Pop really needed you. You ought to go right away." Mario knew his brother wouldn't like being dismissed, but despite his budding respect for his little brother, Mario did not feel quite equal to an explanation. Besides, he figured, it's not really my secret to expose.

To his relief, Tony seemed to allow the change of subject. Mario hoped his brother would let the subject drop, and though Tony fully intended to revisit the topic at a future date, he wouldn't press it at the moment. Tony didn't want to take the chance that his defensiveness would erect a barrier that would halt his brother's progress. No, Tony felt too much relief and an almost painful hope as he pondered his brother's words.

"I'll see you later then," Tony agreed before turning his back on his brother and walking out the door.

Mario sigh when the door shut out the sight of his brother's retreating figure. Though he held knew respect for his adventurous brother, he didn't want to risk that Tony's sharp mind might pick up on the reason for Mario's new attitude. With Tony's political leanings, there was no telling who might catch wind of his affiliation with the new newspaper. Mario's and Barbara's and Marissa's, and Mario didn't want to bear that responsibility. Still, he smiled at the suspicious look on his brother's face. After all the years of burying his nose in books while he watched his brother live audaciously, it felt good for Mario to have a secret that felt brave and a little reckless. Mario wondered if he could get addicted to the adrenaline rush.

Laughing at the impossibility, he turned back to the book that he still held open on the table.