Hero sat in their rocking chair, watching the tar-black hippo with the gold-plated tusks amble up the road. It would stop in front of their house, to be sure. Hero didn’t look up from the sweet tea they were stirring as the hippo came to a stop at the bottom of the front steps.

“You can pop her in the pond with Abigail. Gate’s around the side there.”

The man on top of the hippo didn’t respond, but dismounted and walked around the side of the house. Hero listened as Abigail greeted her new pondmate, as the man in the peacock-blue cravat cooed to—ah, yes. “Ruby,” he called her. Abigail was a Standard Grey—not too far off from a meat hippo, but considerably smarter. She would be friendly to Ruby. She was friendly to everyone. Hospitable, Hero thought.

Hero stirred the iced tea, tasted it. Not quite there yet.

Ruby’s rider came back around to the bottom of the front steps. He put his boot on the first step, then stopped, his chin tilted toward Hero’s face. “Might I join you?”

“S’why I’ve got a second rocking chair,” Hero said, assessing the man out of the corner of their eye. He was tall, immaculately dressed. He had cheekbones that sliced right through the thick, golden afternoon sunlight. He walked up the steps deliberately, watching Hero. Watching Hero’s pistols.

“Don’t worry,” Hero said. “I won’t shoot you. Sweet tea?”

“You haven’t been reading my letters,” the man said.

“You’re English. Lancaster?”

“Blackpool. You haven’t been reading my letters.”

“And you haven’t accepted my hospitality,” Hero said, gesturing to the unoccupied rocking chair and the sweet tea sweating on the porch rail in front of it. “Please, won’t you sit?”

The man sat. He looked like he wanted to sit on the edge of the rocking chair, but it was canted so that he had to sit all the way back. He held his hat in his hands. “My name is Winslow Houndstooth. I got your name from the federal agent who gave me this.” He dug into his pocket and held out a thick gold coin with an eagle on it. “He said you’d want this job.”

Hero sipped at their sweet tea, ignoring the proffered coin. “Hot this summer. They said it would be cooler, but I’d say it’s a sight hotter than it was this time last year.”

Houndstooth tapped the coin against the arm of his rocking chair. “I wouldn’t know. I’ve never been to this part of Louisiana before. Rode here all the way from New Orleans. And that after the steamship ride along the Gulf.”

“Your Ruby must be tired as a hog after a boil.”