“Indeed. But once that happened, the company split up, to an extent. Word of their misfortune had spread, and several recruiters arrived with offers. About half the troupe left for other shows or smaller exhibitions, taking only their personal baggage. This left the rest with no money to return home and no good prospects except to somehow continue on. And with that, the Captain offered me the opportunity to manage what was left of the show.” He shrugged. “Foolish of me, perhaps, to give up my position, which was secure.”

“If your position was secure—” she raised an eyebrow.

“It was a boring little Alpine hotel,” he replied. “And it was unlikely I would succeed to the position of manager or concierge until I was sprouting gray hairs. I had always wanted to be in the theater, and here was my chance! I knew that my own countrymen were keen on the American frontier, so I made certain of the original bookings, then made some more arrangements through the trade papers and friends, and here we are.”

“Do you really think you can make enough money for all of these people to return home?” she asked, concerned. It was one thing for the sylphs to be agitating for her to join this show . . . but they had offered her what seemed to be a ridiculously huge sum of money, when they had only just extricated themselves from large debts.

“Absolutely,” he replied with confidence. “It will take time, but we will. You understand, it is not enough merely to earn the money to return home for these good people. That would be a failure. They must return home with something substantial to show as well. If not a fortune, certainly enough to live on comfortably for some time, perhaps to purchase ranches or businesses of their own.”

The Captain got them all another beer, and Kellermann paused to speak to him in English for some time. Cody’s brows creased and he said something anxiously, then turned to her and repeated it, even though he surely knew she didn’t understand a word he was saying.

“The Captain is most anxious to learn whether or not you will join us, fraulein—” Kellermann began—when he was interrupted by the Indian. That worthy gentleman spoke only a few words, in comparison with the Captain, but Kellermann’s eyes widened and he glanced from one side to the other before leaning over the table toward her.

“Chief Leading Fox says you are not just a sure-shot, you are a magician . . .” he whispered. “Like him.”

She sat up as straight as if an electric current from a nearby thunderbolt had passed through her. In fact, it felt rather as if one had. “He said—” She glanced up at her sylphs. They were all nodding, eagerly. She looked back down. “You know about magicians?” she demanded.