“Somebody there?” I called again. The thud of my boots on the empty floor echoed hollowly off the painted forest walls until it sounded like I had invisible soldiers marching behind me. I shivered.

  Right when I reached the back door, it opened again. This time it revealed a grown woman of years more advanced than I’d care to guess at with her in hearing range. I use the word “grown” loosely, for she seemed to have stopped growing about the time I would have started. I will never be called tall, but the top of her greying head scarcely reached my shoulder.

  “And what would you be wanting?” She looked me in the eye, and I saw she was not a woman who would tolerate foolishness.

  “Fifty dollars,” I said. “And good morning to you, too, ma’am.”

  She tried so hard not to smile, my own lips hurt. “I see. You heard about the reward. Do you think you’ve earned it?”

  “I aim to.”

  “Well, there’s no telling. No telling at all. Come with me.” She whirled and left. I’ve seen soldiers younger than myself who would struggle to keep up with that woman. She didn’t walk, she scurried, and I had to stay nimble so as not to get lost.

  She led me through that door, which wasn’t the building’s back door at all, but only separated the dancing room from a long kitchen. A black stove hulked at one end, and two long tables lined the actual back wall of the building, one on either side of yet another door. Underneath the tables stood neat stacks of firewood.

  Six young ladies of varying ages filled the room with energy, bright dresses, and chatter. Three of them busied themselves mixing up, frying, and hanging something round to dry on little tree-like racks. Judging by the smell, whatever they were making had to be downright delicious. Two girls washed dishes nearby, and the sixth girl scrubbed the long tables. When we entered, they all paused and stared at me in silence, then resumed their previous activities, ignoring me thoroughly.

  I took a deep, appreciative sniff. The woman I was following laughed. “Sometimes we forget it smells good to other folks. Mercy, I’m so tired of the smell of doughnuts I could go the rest of my life without eating one and not shed a tear.”

  “Those are doughnuts?” These looked nothing like the doughnuts I’d had during the war, squares or diamonds of dough fried up in last night’s drip-pings and small enough to dunk in a cup of coffee. These were the size of my hand spread out. And they were shaped like a large coil of rope, sort of twisted, but circular. It took a mighty big helping of self-control not to snatch one off a rack, but I resisted. If I could get an advance on those fifty dollars some way, I’d be all set to eat whatever I wanted.

  “Well, of course those are doughnuts,” said the woman leading me. “What else would they be?" Out we went through the back door, shutting it on the noise and bustle, though the sweet scent followed us on through.

  Next to the dance hall and its kitchen stood a square two-story house. We went right on in the back door, entering a small office. There sat the man I’d seen nail the notice not long earlier. Between us stood a large desk covered in books and papers, with more books stacked on a chair next to the wall.

  Swarthy, barrel-chested and bearded, the man looked to be about twice my own size. With his beard resting on his chest, and his eyes closed, he looked so peaceful I wanted to smile. But I suspected a serious expression would more likely earn me the job, so I resisted that particular urge too.

  “Wake up, Will,” the woman said without pre-amble. “There’s a young man here who wants to solve our little problem.”

  “I am awake.” The man’s voice filled the room with a pleasant rumble. He rubbed his eyes and squinted at me, his face scrunched up like a child smelling something unpleasant. “Who would you be, then?”

  “Jedediah Jones.”

  He grunted. “Good name. You think you can earn that reward, do you?”

  I dropped my hat on that chair full of books, put both my hands on his desk, and leaned forward. This man might have weighed the same as two of me, but I wouldn’t have made sergeant major if I’d let myself be intimidated by every man who was bigger than me. Especially since I’ve encountered a lot of them on this earth. “How would I know that? I don’t even know what you need me to do. Only a fool would say he could solve a problem he knows nothing about.” I straightened and crossed my arms over my chest.

  Beside me, the little lady chuckled. Or possibly she had tried delicately to restrain a cough. I didn’t take my eyes off the man to find out.

  He smiled, baring strong, fierce teeth. “I’m glad to know you’re not a fool, at least.” He held out a meaty hand. “Will Algona. I think I’m pleased to meet you, Jedediah Jones.”

  I shook his hand, making sure my own grip matched the firmness of his. “Glad to know you.”

  “Pull up a chair. That is, if you can find it.”

  Moving those books that filled the only other chair would have taken more time than it was worth. There must have been thirty of them under my hat. I marveled that the chair could stand up under the strain of all those words. “I’ll stand, thanks.”

  “Then I’ll be brief. Mr. Jones, someone is trying to ruin us.”

  “How’s that?”

  “They’re adding liquor to the cider we serve during dances. Three times now, our girls have been rendered intoxicated. Three dances running, now”

  Mrs. Algona put in, “My daughters, tipsy!”

  “All those young ladies in the kitchen, they’re your daughters?” I’d noted six in that kitchen, and I decided I ought to respect this tiny woman even more, if she’d borne six girls and retained such sprightly ways. My own ma only had four children, myself being the youngest, and by thirty she’d been too worn out to do much more than cook and mend and try to sweep out all the dirt we brought in the house. Though maybe six girls were easier to tend than four boys. Not having ever had sisters, I wouldn’t know.

  “They are,” she answered. “And I take it as a personal insult that someone thinks it’s funny to set them tipsy.”

  Will Algona said, “You act like it’s a joke, Martha. It’s no joke. Some wretch intends to put us out of business. They’re threatening our livelihood, that’s what.” He shook his head. “All our plans, our hopes for the girls—and you think this is a joke. Once, that would be a joke. Maybe even twice. But three weeks running? That is pure, deliberate malice. It needs to end.”

  “So let me get this straight,” I said. “You don’t serve liquor during your dances?”

  Mrs. Algona huffed. “Of course not! We serve coffee, cider, and doughnuts. We are a respectable establishment. Anyone who wants a stronger drink than apple cider has to go on over to the saloon. And if they’ve had more to drink than they ought, they can’t come in here.”

  Will nodded. “That’s our rules.”

  “No liquor—we had to practically vow on the Bible about that. We didn’t exactly thrill the good folks of the town when we opened this place.” Mrs. Algona sniffed. “Misunderstood our intentions, that’s what they did. But they’ve come around.”

  Will said, “Plenty of people like having some-where to come socialize after a long week of work. Old and young alike, though we do tend to mostly draw lonesome young men looking for a dance with a nice girl and something sweet to eat. If we added liquor to that mix...” He held up his hands, then let them drop to his sides. “Besides, we insist that our daughters be treated right. No drunken cowboy will get within ten feet of my daughters.”

  “What about the other girls who work for you? Might one of them be dissatisfied with her pay? Or angry at another girl? Maybe they quarreled about some young cowhand?”

  “You don’t understand,” Will Algona said. “This is a family business. We don’t hire anybody to work here.”

  “So those six young ladies I saw—”

  Mrs. Algona interrupted me. “Twelve, Mr. Jones. We have twelve daughters.”

  I wished then that I’d set myself down when offered a chair. “Twelve?”

  “Twelve,” she repeated, face lighted with pride.

  “I see.” Twelve daughters. No wonder the Algonas wanted this sorted out soon. Twelve tipsy daughters must be right challenging to deal with.

  Will Algona said, “And as for any of our girls quarrelling over a young man, that’s nonsense.”

  “Why?”

  Before either of them could answer, the door behind me opened. In walked the same overstretched specimen of mankind who’d taken down the notice from in front of the jail. Now he pulled that very piece of paper out of his pocket, opened it, and held it out.

  Will Algona said, “Back again, Cooper?”

  “I am.” Cooper had to have seen me. The room had barely enough space for both of us to stand between the desk and the doorway without bumping each other. But once again, he behaved as if I didn’t exist. “And since you’ve doubled the reward, you can believe I’m twice as interested in earning it.”

  “Very well,” Will Algona said. “I hope you’re twice as successful as you’ve been so far, then.” His beard twitched, though it was too thick to tell for sure if he’d smiled. He continued, “It may help to spur your investigating efforts along to know you now have competition. Mr. Jones here intends to earn that reward himself.”

  Cooper looked me up and down like a tumble-weed someone sneaked into his bedroom for a joke. “That so?”

  “It is.” I crossed my arms over my chest.

  “Huh.” He went back to ignoring me. “Are your daughters busy?”

  Mrs. Algona said, “You can smell the doughnuts, can’t you? They’re trying out a new recipe.”

  Will Algona added, “Haven’t you heard the new rule, Cooper? Even if they aren’t busy, none of them will speak to you without us or several of her sisters present.”

  He shrugged. “I know that. I’ll put my questions to all of them. I still don’t believe none of them saw this happen.”

  “And I told you my daughters aren’t liars.” Will Algona scowled. “I don’t enjoy repeating myself, Mr. Cooper. Either you find some fresh questions to ask, or I’m afraid the closest you’ll get to your reward is that paper in your hand.”

  Though I didn’t know either of them, I suspected they would resort to loud words in less than a minute. And I had no desire to get caught in the middle of an argument when I could be earning that money. I picked up my hat. “If you’ll all excuse me, I’d like to get started on this myself.”

  As I said, that room was not spacious. Cooper had no choice but to back out the door himself so I could get to it. Which I intended to happen. When he did so, I followed him out and shut the door.

  Cooper glared at me. “Who’re you, anyway?”

  “My name’s Jedediah Jones.” I put my hat back on, tipped down over my forehead so he couldn’t see my eyes easily.

  “I’ll remember that.”

  “Thank you. I get real worried when folks forget my name. Keeps me awake all night sometimes.” I tilted my head back so I could look him in the eye without moving my hat. It let me peer down my nose at him in a way, even though he had a good five or six inches on me. “Nice of you to be so considerate.”

  He gave me a mean, sidelong glance, but turned on his heel and left.

  Mrs. Algona stepped outside. “If I was a betting woman, I’d lay my money on you.”

  “Thank you, ma’am.” I swept my hat off and bowed low, courtly as the fancy eastern gent I’d considered trying to be once. “Now, if you would be so kind, I’d appreciate it if you’d introduce me to your daughters. I’d like to ask them a few questions myself.”

  She gave me an approving smile. “Mr. Jones, you are an answer to my prayers. Come right this way.”

  Chapter Three

  Mrs. Algona gathered all twelve of her daughters in the main room of the dance hall. I’d thought the fanciful forest on those walls was beautiful, but I wouldn’t be any kind of a gentleman at all if I didn’t tell you right now that it could never compare with the beauty of those girls. They milled about us, chatting and laughing with all the noise and flutter you would expect twelve handsome girls to create.

  I looked them over for a moment, baffled. How could twelve sisters all be so close in age? The youngest couldn’t have been younger than seven-teen, and the oldest didn’t appear to be above my own age, a solid quarter of a century old.

  Mrs. Algona motioned for me to lean close and whispered in my ear, “Six sets of twins.”

  I wondered why, since she seemed amply able to read minds, she hadn’t used her clairvoyance to find the culprit herself. “Ah,” I said.

  “Girls! Girls!” she called out, clapping her hands so they all quieted down. “Line up, please, so I can introduce you all properly.”

  Obediently, they sorted themselves into a line with their backs to one wall. I’ve seen raw recruits fresh off the farm line up faster and straighter, but then again, green soldiers don’t have wide skirts to contend with, so I let that pass.

  “This is Mr. Jones,” Mrs. Algona told them when they’d gotten themselves better organized. “He’s here to investigate our little problem.” She smiled up at me.

  “That’s right,” I said, reminding myself that twelve young ladies staring at me ought not to scare someone who’d faced down Mosby’s ghosts in gray.

  “Mr. Jones, allow me to present my daughters.” The proud mother walked down the line, pointing to them each in turn. “Alice, Anna, Beatrice, Bertha, Catherine, Clara, Dolores, Dora, Elizabeth, Emma, Felicity, and Flora.”

  The girls all greeted me with cheerful variations on the word ‘hello,’ all speaking at once so that they sounded like a flock of songbirds.

  “Hello,” I answered, not bothering with individual greetings. I knew for a certainty I wouldn’t remember all those names, much less which one went with which girl.

  My father taught me never to let a critter see you were scared of them. Keep your voice steady and your motions slow, and act like you know what you’re doing. I hoped the same thing worked with large flocks of females. Being in the army for those four long years had left me little time to learn the ways of genteel young ladies like these.

  I clasped my hands behind me, feet apart and shoulders squared as if addressing a line of troops. “I’m told someone has tampered with your refresh-ments,” I started. No good—too stiff. They weren’t troops, they were cheerful and pretty girls. “Why don’t you tell me what happened.” I discovered immediately that this didn’t work either.

  All twelve girls launched into individual explana-tions simultaneously. Each spoke five or six words and then stopped in confusion.

  I held up my hands and smiled. “This won’t do, will it?” I looked up and down that line, trying to size them up in a few seconds and choose a girl who would tell a sensible story.

  I failed.

  I can tell a steady horse from a flighty one by the way it tosses its head. I can tell an honest man from a sly one by the way he addresses an inferior. But I cannot tell a sensible woman from a capricious one by the curl of her hair or the smile on her lips. So I chose the one at the near end of the line, likely the eldest. “Let’s try this.” I walked closer to her. “You tell me what you remember of what happened, and we’ll go from there, Miss…”

  “Alice,” she said, her voice lower than I’d expected. She had soft brown hair and eyes, I noted, and tucked her chin down when she spoke. She regarded me from under her eyelashes, eyes steady and maybe a little amused.

  “Miss Alice,” I said. “Thank you.”

  “Three times now, someone has slipped something in our cider while we held dances. We got sick before we understood what it was.”

  “Each time, you got sick? Or only the first time?”

  “The first time, we all did. I think a few other folks did too—I’m not certain. The other times, we realized it had happened again pretty quick.”

  “I see. You drank it, got sick, and that’s all?”

  Miss Alice glanced at her ma, then back at me. “No, that’s not all. That first time, before we got sick, I suppose you’d say we behaved, well, a little silly.”

  One of the youngest sisters stifled a laugh.

  “Don’t worry, you’ll each get your chance,” I assured the rest of them. When I returned my attention to Miss Alice, I wished for a moment that she was not tall, brunette, and slender. I’ve always been partial to round little blondes. Too bad she matched none of my preferences, for she had a voice so husky and low and altogether unusual, I wanted to put more questions to her simply so I could hear her speak.

  “Miss Alice, by ‘silly,’ do you mean to say you got drunk?” I asked bluntly to see what reaction the word would get.

  Miss Alice raised her chin. The hint of a smile lurked at the corners of her mouth. “I’d have said ‘tipsy,’ but perhaps some people might have called us drunk.”

  That glimpse of a smile proved dangerous. I had the sudden wish to abandon these questions and find something to say that would make her smile. Truly smile, not hint at it.

  I moved on to her twin before the desire to say something amusing or even funny could distract me from my purpose. The girls’ names had come in pairs, I remembered, so this one would begin with an ‘A’ too. Anna, wasn’t it? “How many of you got tipsy? All of you? Only a few?”

  “The first time, I think we all did.” She had lighter hair than her twin, though still not blond. Her voice sounded higher than Miss Alice’s, and less enticing somehow.

  “How did you feel?”

  “I remember thinking the man dancing with me was terribly funny. I kept laughing at everything he said.”

  “And then?”

  “Then I felt dizzy, and I... I had to run out back.” Anna blushed and looked away.

  She’d been sick. That did sound like someone unused to alcohol.

  “I see.” I moved sideways to the twins who had names that started with a B. Betsy? Beth? Surely strangers forgot their names routinely. Though none of the twins appeared to be identical, these two looked very like each other, both with black hair and laughing eyes. They smiled at me and showed off pleasing sets of dimples.

 

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