"Shame, ain't it?" Frank tsked as he observed the young woman who had just walked into the supply store. "I bet there's a pretty thing under all that mess o' fabric."
Rufus, sitting at the lunch counter next to Frank, craned his head around to get a view of what his coworker was busy shaking his head at. The woman, probably in her late teens, looked perfectly normal to Rufus. She was dressed warmly and practically, with several layers of petticoats peeking out from under a thick tartan skirt, and a long, corduroy coat in forest green concealed whatever she was wearing above her thighs. She had on men's work boots rather than more fashionable footwear, which also seemed reasonable to Rufus. The mining town wasn't designed for soft, fancy shoes. He turned back to Frank and gave him a dirty look.
"It's winter," he pointed out. "The snow's hip-deep where it's not shoveled, and in case you haven't been outside recently, it hasn't been above freezing in weeks."
"That's one o' Frumoldus's girls, though," grunted Frank, defending his earlier statement. Rufus looked once more at the woman, trying to scrutinize her without seeming too obvious.
"Frumoldus, huh?" pondered Rufus. Theodoric Frumoldus was the owner of Peak Fuel Company and founder of the town surrounding its operations. If Rufus had to wager a guess, he'd put his money on Theo Frumoldus being descended from ogres. It had only taken a couple of run-ins with the company owner for Rufus to consider him that intimidating with the matching appearance, which was nothing like the woman in the shop. Strands of her curly red hair had broken free from the updo concealed underneath her black fur hat, framing the delicate features of her face. Her light green eyes were appealingly upturned, and she had a small mouth with full, ruby lips, much like a porcelain doll. The cold nip from outside put a nice glow in her cheeks and nose as well. "She doesn't look a thing like that baboon father of hers," he remarked. At least she's not wearing a permanent scowl, he thought.
Frank chuckled, "You ain't been here here that long, so I'll cut you a break for not knowing more about that weird old codger." Rufus glanced at his lunch companion sidelong in confusion. Frank continued, "He breeds for looks."
"Hm. That's far from weirdest reason for mating, but it does sound less than loving, I suppose," Rufus said without asking for further explanation, taking a long swig of his drink before hopping down from his stool. "Anyway, why would it matter what she's wearing?"
"You kiddin'?" Frank snorted. "Them Frumoldus kids shouldn't have to go on supply runs for Daddy. That girl right there should be inside embroidering or playing piano or doing something else ladies do. But that freak makes all of his daughters work outdoors, in the stables, in the sheds... wherever." Frank leaned in Rufus's direction and mumbled confidentially—though not really all that discreetly by Rufus's standards—out of the corner of his mouth, "Wanna know what that kook father of hers is really like? He thinks he's a prophet of some Ancient Egyptian god or something. I don't know. He tells everyone he was given exactly 12 daughters to represent, uh, some ancient principles of life, I think. 'Least that's what I heard. I wonder if he's just angry he never had a son and wants to make himself out to be the greatest thing since Jesus walked on water. So, his daughters aren't daughters, they're symbols, and because they're symbols he makes 'em prove their worth. It's ridiculous."
"Sounds like it," Rufus agreed as he put his coat on, keeping an eye on the woman as she loaded bags of feed onto a cart. It was strange, indeed. Ancient Egypt? Symbols of life? What would prompt someone to turn these things into a lifestyle? Rufus could only sigh; he'd been in town a mere three weeks, and there was still quite a bit he had yet to learn, obviously. Frank's gossiping wasn't always reliable, anyway. "We need to get back to the station," he told Frank as he gestured towards the door.
"Yeah, yeah," Frank groaned as he slowly put his feet on the ground. "I ain't as spry as you are, you know. I don't know how you do it, either. You don't seem dwindled much by the war."
"I was in France for three months," Rufus said, growing perturbed by the mention of his final deployment. "That's all. Not nearly long enough to slow me down."
Frank raised a skeptical eyebrow and nodded at Rufus's left arm. "What do you call that, then, if that ain't slowin' you down?"
Rufus held up his left arm, or what remained of it, anyway. It was amputated from the elbow down. Frank's blunt question caused Rufus's mood to turn. He looked at his arm, still coming to terms with the permanence of his injury. It could have been worse. It could have been a lot worse, but that wasn't consolation for its loss. He had to teach himself to live without it, and every day was a painful reminder that it was gone. Right now, in fact, he was buttoning his coat one-handed. "I call it unfortunate," replied Rufus in near-monotone, a touch defensively. Suddenly 30 years seemed too short a time to have had the use of both arms, and whatever remained of his life seemed too long to do with just one.
His older coworker lacked a rudeness filter, but so did many of the people he met in the small town of Thebes. Thebes, he suddenly realized, smirking to himself. Rufus was no scholar, but the recent archaeological excavations in Egypt made the news enough—when the news wasn't about the war—for him to recognize where Theo got the name of his town. How peculiar, he thought, once again pondering the old man's daughter. Just as he found himself glancing back in her direction, the top bag of feed on her flat cart started slipping to the ground as the woman's arms were full with another bag. Rufus darted over to her, startling her as he blocked the bag from falling away from the rest of the precarious stack.
"That was close!" he said friendlily, giving her a warm smile. Still stunned, she let out a strained chortle over the incident, thanked him softly and went back to her business. Maybe Rufus was new to town, but somehow it didn't surprise him that any of Theo's children were antisocial. Before she could plop the bag in her arms onto the stack, though, she was stopped by Rufus's hand, pushing her bag gently away from the cart.
"Hey, you know what?" asked Rufus, keeping up his jovial tone. "Let's rearrange this stack," he continued, removing bags and re-piling them staggered, like bricks, "so that it'll be easier for us to carry them out of store." There were no protests from the young woman; she merely looked lost with her deer-in-the-headlights expression and curious glances at his ability to manipulate the pile quickly with only one hand. As he took the last bag out of her hands, she straightened her coat and brushed her hands together.
"'Us'?" she repeated with a sniff, shifting her eyes at him as he stood up.
"Oh, my apologies," he grinned again and held out his hand. "I'm Rufus Underwood. You probably don't recognize me, but come up to the train station and you might see me around."
She hesitated briefly before shaking his hand. "Kay Frumoldus," she said guardedly, emphasizing her surname. Rufus wasn't sure if the emphasis was a warning or an attempt to put a social barrier between them, but it was about as cold as the icicles dangling from the supply store's roof. However, it didn't daunt the war veteran, who nonchalantly took his wool cap out of his trouser pocket, slapped it once on his thigh and then secured it to his head, all the while giving Kay a familiar grin.
"Well, nice to meet you, Kay," he nodded at her, gripped the cart's handle and made his way to the store's entrance.
"I haven't paid for those yet," she worriedly pointed at the cart as Rufus took it away.
"All right, then. You do that and I'll take these outside for you. "Is that your truck?" he inquired, pointing at the Ford idling near the front of the store. She bobbed her head and quickly turned to the cashier. Frank joined Rufus, snickering as they headed to Kay's truck.
"If you're tryin' to find a girl in this here town, you better look elsewhere," Frank told Rufus as they exited the store.
Rufus was sure Frank's second job was to tease the station's newest employees. "I'm not trying anything like that at all," he corrected the old man. "I'm just being nice. She's a bit young, anyway."
"Wouldn't stop me," Frank said facetiously with a wink. "Which one is she, anyway? J? G? I?"
Rufus looked lost. "Excuse me?"
"What's her name begin with?"
"She said her name was Kay."
"Ahh," Frank replied with an amused grin. "She is one o' the youngest."
Rufus shrugged as he shook his head, baffled by Frank's strange musing. "I don't understand."
"Well, Kay ain't her real name, just so you know. It's something much more bizarre, I'm sure. She's..." he paused as he looked like he was concentrating on a math formula, "...almost the youngest. The L girl is the only one who's younger."
"Frank," Rufus griped as he and his older friend began tossing bags into the truck's bed, "you know that makes no sense to me whatsoever. What do you mean by all of those letters?"
"The Frumoldus girls," said Frank, picking up another bag, "have alphabetical names, from A to L."
Great. More quirkiness, Rufus inwardly groaned.
"And," Frank continued, lobbing the bag into the back of the truck, "they're named after people, too. People from opera, I think."
"You mean singers?" questioned Rufus. "Or characters?"
"How would I know, kid? I don't keep up with that stuff."
Rufus wasn't surprised. It was a long ride to Denver, where one might enjoy the theater on occasion. Frank wasn't into more refined entertainment, anyway. Rufus was pretty sure Frank only owned records by Billy Murray, which he played often on the station's Victrola. Rufus switched his train of thought back to Kay and was about to ask Frank what else he knew about Theo's daughters, but Kay was coming down the store's front steps, ending their current conversation.
Her expression was softer now, and she smiled faintly as she tucked a wisp of her fiery hair behind an ear. "Thank you for the help," she nodded politely at both men. "I probably shouldn't have tried this alone, but I'm stubborn like that." She reached into her coin purse to retrieve some change for the two men, but Rufus stopped her, placing his hand on top of hers.
"The pleasure's ours," he told her sincerely. Frank glowered at Rufus and grumbled a complaint about refusing her tip as he hoisted the empty cart into the truck. Kay continued to smile but tilted her head slightly and narrowed her eyes.
"You really aren't from around here, but I like it better that way. Welcome to Thebes," she said as she moved to the driver's side and opened the door. "Maybe I'll see you around the station." She didn't wait for a response before getting in the truck and slowly making her way down the icy dirt road.
"Yep, it's a shame," Frank lamented as he watched the truck disappear over the hill. "Daddy wasted all that beauty by making her work in the coops. Plus, she sure is a block of ice."
"She's just a little cautious. There's nothing wrong with that," Rufus said in Kay's defense.
Frank turned to Rufus and raised his eyebrows. "Well, well... already smitten, huh?"
Rufus eyeballed Frank. "Too young, Frank. Too young. Too Frumoldus as well, probably. From the sound of it, I don't think I want anything to do with that family."
"Good, good," Frank approved. "Daddy's too picky to marry any of them off, anyway. They're all destined to be old maids."
That seemed sad to Rufus. If Kay was one of the younger ones, then that meant the oldest was at least in her late 20s, probably. They had no say in their own relationships?
"Let me guess," Rufus sighed. "It has something to do with them being symbols, not daughters."
Frank clapped a hand on Rufus's back. "You're learnin' fast."
Rufus shook his head in disgust as the two men headed down the street, back to the nearby train station. He watched the clouds he made with his warm breath and thought about his encounter with Kay. It really was a shame Theo was wasting his daughters' lives away. On the surface Theo didn't appear to be a violent or unstable person, in fact, what was really distressing was his calm but piercing glare. It was so uncomfortably calculating Rufus felt like his mind was being read... and then bored through with daggers. Maybe Theo had some strange hold over his children. He sounded like a domineering man. Perhaps the women were afraid of being disinherited, or perhaps their father had threatened worse on them. Rufus shuddered, not from the cold, but from the realization that this town was founded and run by someone as potentially disturbing as Theodoric Frumoldus.