Jinny nodded. “I reckon at th’ rate Billie was liven high, what with beefsteak an’ drink an’ all, he left a debt at the Company store hisself. Iffen they was held t’him by debt, Burra Burra will take ’em as part pay. An iffen them gels was jest held by his magic, it’ll be broke now. So in either case, I reckon they oughter he’p thesselves to whatever he left lyin’ around and git as fur away as they c’n go.”

But Josh handed the note back to Aunt Jinny. “I’ll jest tell ’em my own self. Might c’d be they cain’t read. Might c’d be someone’d find th’ note arter they bolt, an’ start lookin’ fer whoever wrote it.” He smiled at her aunt. “Reckon I c’n use a liddle o’ thet magic ter persuade ’em.”

“Reckon I c’n show y’all how, in ’bout a hour,” Jinny agreed.

“Reckon I c’n watch,” said Anna.

It was about two weeks later that the bailiffs came.

Josh was around the back of the cabin cutting firewood, Anna and Aunt Jinny in kitchen putting up pickles with the last of the green tomatoes, when they were interrupted by a knock on the door, which was now closed most of the time against the autumn chill unless the day was unusually warm.

“Trouble,” rumbled the Domovoy from under the stove.

Anna exchanged a look of resignation with her aunt. This could only be one thing.

“Wall, keepin’ ’em on the stoop ain’t a-gonna put this off,” Jinny said with a sigh, and went to answer the door.

“Miz Jinny Alscot?” asked one of the three men standing there—the one with the shiny star on the front of his coat.

“So I be,” Jinny replied, not inviting them in.

The sheriff was polite, the other two, not so much. They shoved their way inside, and one of them pointed at Anna. “Reckon thet’d be the girl, Sheriff,” he said. “Reckon—”

“Whoa, now, slow up. We do this polite an’ proper, or I’m a-gonna haul y’all both back t’Ducktown an’ we do it in court,” the sheriff said, clearly irritated at both of them. Anna didn’t much like the look of those two, and it was clear that the sheriff didn’t either. They were dirty, unshaven, and stank of strong tobacco and stronger drink. The sheriff turned to Anna. “Are y’all Miz Anna May Jones?”

“Anna May Holcroft,” she said, hoping against hope that this would throw them off.

But the sheriff wasn’t going to be fooled by such a simple ploy. “Till a week agone, y’all was Anna May Jones, am I right?” he asked sternly.

She bit her lip, and tried not to show her fear. “Yessir,” she said faintly.

“Wall, these two fellers here is from Soddy Coal Mine Company, ’bout a debt yore Ma an’ Pa owed the Company,” the sheriff said sternly, but with a hint, at least, of some compassion. “Seems they died, which means y’all is responsible.”