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sheriff.
    “Where abouts you from?”
    “Pennsylvania.”
    “All the way from Pennsylvania.” Dennis considered that, rubbing his chin. “What do you do back there?”
    “Family business.”
    Dennis waited, and Steven Springer added, “Dry goods. We’re an old established firm.” He turned the hat a few degrees clock-wise.
    “Must be a pretty important ‘something’ for you to come all this way...from Pennsylvania...yourself.”
    “What do you mean?”
    “Why didn’t you hire somebody? You look like you could afford it.”
    “It did not occur to me.”
    That, Dennis, decided was the truth. “Well, I haven’t heard the name. What’s she look like? How old is she?”
    “Oh,” Steven Springer said. “Yes. I suppose she might not be using her real name.” He said this with such an air of genuine revelation, Dennis laughed. Springer looked puzzled and offended. After some hesitation, however, he offered, “I have a photograph.”
    Dennis nodded sagely, “Well, that would sure be a help,” and noted the slight reluctance with which the stranger brought out a flat leather wallet from the inside pocket of his suit coat and carefully removed a photograph.
    While the man held the photograph with what Dennis would have described as tenderness, his lips pursed, like Steven Springer suddenly had a mouthful of bitterness and nowhere to spit.
    Dennis took the picture when it was finally given to him and beheld the likeness of a young woman. Unruly hair billowed about her small face. Though she was not smiling, she did not look grim, merely composed. A small nose and delicate mouth. A Slavic cast to her eyes reminded Dennis of many of the fair-faced young women in the Polish settlement of Rennville—two townships to the southwest. Dennis considered the face. Interesting. Intelligent. When animated, probably pretty. He handed the photo back to Steven Springer. “Never seen her before, but if I do, I’ll give you a holler. You stayin’ at Koenigs?”
    Springer nodded and carefully returned the picture to its place in the wallet, which he slid back into his pocket.
    “How long you stayin’?”
    “Till I find her, Sheriff.”
    Dennis took a sip of his cold coffee, grimaced, and thought, That could be a mighty long time. This is a big country.
    “Miss Madigan was traveling with a companion. Her name is Augusta Roemer. Tall. Unattractive woman. Wears spectacles. Brown hair.” He said the word ‘brown’ as if he held the color itself in disdain.
    In his jail cell, Will, hearing the name of his wife’s best friend, cupped his hand behind his good ear and strained even harder to hear.
    Dennis remained completely slack-faced. “Augusta. I don’t know. Don’t ring any bells.” He took another sip of his coffee. Dennis Sully liked Gustie the first time she pulled her mare and wagon up in front of his office and announced, “I’m the new teacher. Can you tell me where I might stay until I find a place of my own?” She appeared competent enough. After all, she had got there with all her worldly goods from wherever it was she came from, apparently alone, and yet she had a shy, dazed look, not of a woman who had been sheltered, but more of one who wanted to shelter herself. She wore an expression of resignation that had made Dennis unaccountably sad. He pointed her to the only hotel in town, Koenig’s, and to the livery next door, said he would get in touch with the head of the school committee to call on her later.
    Steven Springer squirmed inside a suit that was too warm for the weather. Dennis assessed him as a man who never went around in his shirtsleeves.
    “I reckon it’s money she took? This Clarice Madigan?” questioned Dennis.
    “My money, the firm’s money. I—we want it back. Sheriff...”
    “Sully,” Dennis cued him.
    “Sully. I didn’t come here to be interrogated. I require your assistance as the local representative of the law.” He looked like he might have added “and