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Description
The year was 1923. President Harding was still alive, and Calvin Coolidge was still only vice president. The Prohibition was in place—almost as firmly as the speakeasies that protested it. A man named Fred Gifford was climbing the power ladder in the Ku Klux Klan—just how or why Mr. Gifford was doing what he was doing, no one was quite sure, but they didn't really mind that he was there, either. Frankly, everyone seemed to like him. It was the same year that the Klan would pass a bill prohibiting the ownership of land by foreigners, especially the Japs. They banned religious wear in public schools, too—to keep out the Catholics—and kept public schools from using textbooks that said negative things about the Founding Fathers. Almost everything they did suited Oregon just fine, at the time.
It certainly didn't bother Portland socialite and businessman Lowell Hampton, his wife Rosalie, or any of their twelve daughters.

Kathryn was the oldest, stubborn and smart. Helen and Evelyn were next, twins, and preferred jazz and gin to any other method of enjoyment. Grace was the quiet one, who bought copies of Weird Tales and wrote short stories in her room. Esther, Mae and Ruby were a team of artists—devotees of the poet Edna St. Vincent Millay and painter Tamara de Lempicka, who declared that they should like nothing better than to marry musicians or writers. Elizabeth and Louise longed to be actresses, and spent hours at the theater, committing entire films to memory. Olivia had found a home in the art of beauty and fashion. Pearl had committed herself to musical pursuits, and was attempting to find herself a band; and youngest of all was Emma, the darling of the family, the songbird.

The Hampton girls were good daughters… in daylight. Every morning, though, their shoes were worn through and the heels broken. Mr. Hampton couldn't understand it—where were his daughters going in the middle of the night that no one heard them leave?
Hampton was no fool—money he had, money to spare, and if his daughters were going somewhere he did not approve of, he would find out. He was the master of his house, and he would regain control.

He put out an advertisement—the man who found out where his daughters went at night could marry whichever of them he pleased, and get a hefty reward. It did not take long for the first to come—his name was Alton Paris, a handsome New Yorker who fancied himself a clever man. Upon introducing himself to the twelve sisters, Kathryn looked at her siblings, and muttered—"Easy."

Mr. Hampton gave Alton a room near the sisters', and told him that if he did not find out where the girls went after three days, the young man would find himself a ship hand for the rest of his life. Being the kind of young man he was, Alton assured Mr. Hampton that he needn't worry, and boasted of how he had been the cleverest man among his friends for as long as he could remember. "If that's the case," Kathryn muttered to her sisters behind closed doors, "His friends must be simpletons." Mr. Hampton thought to himself, Surely this young man will figure it out, and then our troubles will be over.

When everyone was settled in, Kathryn took Alton a glass of gin. "Think of it as a welcoming gift," Kathryn said with a charming smile. Being a foolish young man, Alton drank, and soon was slumbering without dreams. He woke in the morning, and the sisters had already returned, their shoes ruined and their clothes torn.

The second night it was pretty Emma who brought young Alton a drink. "We quite enjoy your company, Mr. Paris," she said, gazing at him admiringly. Of course she won him over and he drank, and when he woke in the morning the sisters had already been gone and back.
"This is your last night, or it's the ships!" Mr. Hampton promised. "I can't afford to have you wasting my time."

So Alton Paris resolved that he wouldn't drink with any of the sisters, since it was obvious the alcohol was to blame for his slumber. Yet he thought it quite alright when Grace asked him to smoke with her. She offered him a cigarette—"Of our family's own special make," she promised him. He fell asleep right in the parlor, and did not wake until morning. Mr. Hampton was furious, and had the boy carted off to the shipyards, to a ship bound for Australia.

The next to come was Billie Jones, a local. The Hampton girls knew him from around town, he was the son of a well-off businessman, and as of recent he was a Klansman. The sisters did not like him at all, as he had his eyes on Evelyn, and talked of turning her into a good Christian wife. Fierce Evelyn disliked the sound of that, and her twin Helen disliked it even more. Three nights he stayed, three nights he slept, and the sisters left and returned without a sound. Billie Jones was set upon a ship to Japan and not due back for several months. None of the Hampton girls were sad to see him go.

After him was Tony Farlowe, from San Francisco. He took a liking to quiet Grace, and they talked about Weird Tales and the writers whom they read. They talked of Bloch, Robert E. Howard, Derleth and someone called Lovecraft, and smoked the evenings away, after which Farlowe slept like the dead. He was sent out on a textile shipment to Alaska. Grace seemed a little sad, but more at the loss of a potential friend than a potential husband. "He was really the only one out of the lot that knew anything about horror," she sighed wistfully, as if this were an important quality in a man. (To Grace, it was.)

Then a new man came to Portland—he was originally of a small farming town a little to the south, the kind of place considered to be a portrait of idyllic America. His name was Nathaniel Briggs, formerly Corporal Briggs of the United States Army. He had been wounded in the Great War while fighting in the trenches France. Briggs was looking for work, and frustrated that he was unable to find it, since other than a slight limp (courtesy of the bullet that had got him in the knee during a charge) he was young and strong and quick. Certainly a shot to the knee hadn't at all affected his ability to work—only his ability to complete a military drill.

Briggs first heard about the Hampton girls and Mr. Hampton's offer from his landlady, Mrs. Baker, who was one of Portland's biggest gossips. "Mr. Hampton's already shipped off three boys who slept through their three nights," she told him. "Those girls, they take a man, chew him up and spit him out, if you ask me."

Nathaniel looked at his handful of pocket change, what remained of his dwindling funds, and thought how nice it would be to have part of the Hampton fortune. "I think I'll try it," he said, "It can't be that hard… and I've faced worse."

So he left Mrs. Baker's house with his things and began his long walk through the city, all his possessions in the world in the rucksack over his shoulder. Along the way he spotted an old woman begging for money on the corner. People passed her by with eyes studiously trained away, as if they didn't hear her cries for help. Nathaniel fished through his bag and found one of two sandwiches that Mrs. Baker had made for him. He crouched down next to the old woman and offered her the sandwich. "G'morning, missus," he said politely. "Weather sure is nice today."

The old woman smiled broadly—a few of her teeth were missing, but Nathaniel hardly noticed. "Thank you, boy," she said, her voice hoarse. "There still is some Christian good in this world, then."

Nathaniel shrugged. "I try to be a good Christian, ma'am."
"Well you're an awful lot closer than any of these prigs," the old woman told him matter-of-factly. She chewed rapidly on the sandwich, swallowing before she probably ought to have. "Where are you off to then, boy?" she asked around a mouthful of food.

"I've heard there's a bit of a mystery around the Hampton girls," Nathaniel replied, "And quite a reward for the taking, if it's solved. Seeing as no one's hiring me, I thought I'd try my hand at it."

"Oh, aye," the old woman said, wiping her mouth with her sleeve. "But mind you, don't drink or smoke anything those witches give you."

Nathaniel looked at her, surprised. "Why not?"
"It's damn well drugged, that's why," the old woman replied informatively, "Put you out like a light. Make sure you pretend you're asleep though, boy, and before you follow them put on some nice clothes so they won't recognize you." The old woman gripped Nathaniel's arm. "You're a good boy, you, don't know why you'd want to marry one of those sinful girls, but I want to return your kindness. Be careful—this city doesn't forgive mistakes."

He thanked the old lady for her advice, and left for the Hampton house, rubbing a penny between thumb and forefinger. Nathaniel didn't count himself as a superstitious man, but he hoped that having a shiny little copper of Lincoln might bring him a little push of American luck that he needed.

Mr. Hampton was unimpressed with Nathaniel. If educated men couldn't find out where his daughters were going at night, what made a poor soldier who had barely made it through the eighth grade think he could do so himself? (Nathaniel's educational level was purely conjecture on Mr. Hampton's part… Briggs had actually only made it through the seventh grade, as he had needed to help his father and brothers on the farm.) Still, Hampton decided it was of no import to him whether the man made it or not—if he did, then Mr. Hampton knew where his daughters went at night. If he didn't, then Hampton Shipping Co. had a new employee.

Nathaniel met the sisters in the parlor—and took off his hat, offering a friendly smile. "Don't imagine you're terribly excited to meet me," he said.

Kathryn arched an eyebrow. "So you are a smart man, after all."

Nathaniel laughed, and this seemed to startle the sisters most of all. "I'm a poor soldier, Miss, I don't want a wife, I just want a little money," he admitted.

An odd look crossed Kathryn's face as she and her sisters' shared glances.

Kathryn now faced a dilemma. Nathaniel Briggs was a different sort of man. He socialized freely with each of the sisters, and seemed to have expected that all twelve were better educated than he (which did not seem to terribly disturb him.) He reluctantly told them a little about his time as a soldier, but was very reticent about the war. He wasn't exceptionally handsome or clever as far as she could tell, and didn't try to look it. He seemed genuinely interested in what they had to say, though he was puzzled by Grace's obsession with horror stories and admitted to Elizabeth and Louise that he cared little for the cinema, and to Esther, Mae and Ruby that he knew very little about poetry and art, but the verses they recited certainly were very nice.

Kathryn didn't quite know what to do with him. She had a horrible premonition that she would feel terribly guilty putting this man aboard a ship bound for God-only-knew where.
She watched her sisters enjoying his company, and pursed her lips. "You say you don't want a wife," she said.

"I don't, Miss—at least, not one picked at random." He shrugged. "Can't say I'd mind, but I can't say that's why I came, either."

Kathryn nodded, and made a decision of her own.

Nathaniel knew none of this as he prepared that night. He laid out a nice set of clothes that he had borrowed from a neighbor at Mrs. Baker's house where they couldn't be seen, and waited.

Kathryn came to see him as the house was settling down, a glass of gin in her hand. "I thought you might like a drink, a welcoming gift," she said politely, and set it on his nightstand. "I hope you enjoy your stay, Mr. Briggs." Without another word, she turned and left.

Nathaniel glanced at the glass of gin, and when he was certain Kathryn was gone he poured it down the sink.

He heard the sisters stirring at around eleven thirty. He put on his nice clothes, and listened carefully.

"Have you got it?" someone whispered.

"Shh! Just open the trap door."

Trap door? Nathaniel stepped silently into the hall, and froze as a floorboard creaked. The Hampton girls must not have heard him, for they were still whispering.

Suddenly he heard Kathryn's voice cut quite clearly through the whispering. "Briggs—check that he's asleep."

Nathaniel leapt into bed and pulled the covers up to his neck, pretending to be asleep. The door creaked as twelve pairs of eyes peered inside. "He still has his shoes on," someone giggled. "Oh, he fell for it hook, line and sinker, Kathryn."

"Of course he did," Kathryn replied, "I almost feel sorry for him. Let's go back to the door."

Nathaniel waited as long as he dared before following them. The trap door they had mentioned was open, at the space that was once hidden under Kathryn's bed. There was a flight of stairs that descended down into the depths of the city underground. Nathaniel followed at a distance as the chattering sisters went ahead of him.

His heels clacked against the stone, and there was nothing for it but to try and walk at the same pace as the sisters.

"I hear someone behind us," Emma called out ahead, and Nathaniel's heart froze. If he was seen now, he would never find out where they went.

"It's an echo," Kathryn replied tartly, "You worry too much. Stick close."

They walked a long distance in the tunnel, and surfaced in an unfamiliar part of the city. Lights reflected off of the buildings, turning Portland into a metallic forest. It was easy to follow the sisters once on the street, and Nathaniel followed them all the way to the river. They slipped onto a ferry, talking and laughing, never noticing Nathaniel as he took his place near the back of the ferry.

There were several men with them. One nodded in Nathaniel's direction. "You know him?" he asked Kathryn.

Kathryn hardly glanced at him. "No, why?"

The man—who had to be at least six years older than Kathryn—shrugged. "Seemed like he was following you."

"Probably just going our way," Kathryn replied dismissively.

Nathaniel guessed that the dark and nice clothes had rendered him unrecognizable.
They got off on the other side of the river, immediately taking a twisting path through the city streets that would have left Nathaniel permanently lost had he not been able to keep an eye on them. "Don't you hear footsteps behind us?" Emma asked.

"How could you tell any footsteps from ours?" Kathryn asked. "It's just an echo."
Nathaniel breathed a little easier, and followed the twelve Hampton sisters to yet another tunnel—but this one housed a speakeasy. It was not hard to get in—Nathaniel had been visiting them since they appeared. He had been willing to die for his country, Nathaniel thought, his country should be willing to let him have a drink.

It was not very exciting, what these sisters were up to. They danced, they drank, they flirted—but what living human being at or above the age of sixteen didn't? So they loved jazz. Big deal. Nathaniel rolled his shoulders, had a drink, and waited for the sisters to leave just before the crack of dawn so he could follow them safely back.

Just before the group reached the Hampton house, Kathryn sent her sisters on ahead. "I'll meet up with you in a bit… there's something I want to check."

Nathaniel sank into the shadows, hardly daring to breathe. When her eleven sisters had gone, Kathryn called out—"You had better not get lost, Mr. Briggs. Portland is a dangerous city… particularly in the tunnels." There was a moment of silence, and then her heels clicking as she walked away. Taking her threat about getting lost to heart, Nathaniel followed closely, though out of sight, wondering how she had known he was there, or if she had really known at all.

None of the sisters were in their bedroom when Nathaniel came out of the trap door—they were all out on a balcony, smoking and laughing, and Nathaniel slipped unnoticed back into the other room.

At breakfast, Mr. Hampton asked if Nathaniel had discovered anything. Eleven of the girls looked smug… Kathryn watched him warily. "No sir," Nathaniel replied apologetically, "But I shall try again tonight."

An expression of surprise crossed Kathryn's face, and she stared at him in puzzlement. After the meal, she cornered him in the yard. "What games are you playing, Mr. Briggs?" she demanded.

"Couldn't very well just take the money without getting a dance from one of you, now, could I?" Nathaniel replied.

Kathryn practically snarled. "If my sisters knew what I know—"

"Then be glad they don't," Nathaniel suggested with a smile.

Kathryn pursed her lips and gave him a sour smile. "And what do you plan to do? Just pop in and get a dance when they think you're not there?"

"You knew I was around, something tells me you'll know when I'm there."
Her eyes narrowed. "Take care not to get yourself shanghaied," she said flatly, and turned sharply on her heel.

The warning fell on ignorant ears. Nathaniel had no idea what "shanghaied" meant.
He was a naïve man, compared to those who knew the city's dark side. Had he listened to half the tales people told about Portland, he might have understood that it was considered the Shanghai Capital of the World, and that he could as easily follow the girls to the speakeasy as be kidnapped and sold to a ship's captain. Of course, had any of the twelve Hampton girls been shanghaied, their fate would have been much worse than mere slavery on a ship. It was a rule, for them, to stick together, and always keep an eye on the other eleven. But Nathaniel Briggs knew none of this.

Nathaniel spent the day socializing with the other eleven Hampton sisters as a sullen Kathryn watched from the sidelines. He was shown around the gardens, allowed to view the artwork and poetry, the sole audience for a play with a cast of two, and a concert put on by Pearl and Emma. Nathaniel smiled frequently and applauded them all, and yet there was not a lying bone in his body, if Kathryn was reading him right. He was sincere, and somehow that made it all worse.

He followed them again that night—Emma became more insistent that she heard other footsteps and he was forced to keep to the shadows to avoid detection, even as Kathryn angrily insisted that it was nothing but an echo. The speakeasy was buzzing with activity, enough so that when Kathryn was alone, Nathaniel snagged his dance. She gave him a sour look when she first spotted him. "I wish you would just claim your prize and go," she told him.

"And why is that?" he asked. "Your family seems to like me well enough."

"Because if I am going to have to live my life against my father's wishes I don't want you in the picture," she replied. "All men have ever done is tell me how to live and what to be."

Nathaniel looked her in the eye. "You seem to have done just fine on your own."
Kathryn stopped in shock, staring at him.

He followed them again the last night, eleven of the Hampton girls still convinced that he was ignorant of their wanderings. Realizing this was the last night he would ever see any of them, Nathaniel drank a little more than he should have… and was no small amount of surprised when the floor dropped out from underneath him. Nathaniel's memory of what happened next was foggy—a combination of alcohol and shock—but he did recall a livid Kathryn following him down and threatening the men with jail "if her father ever found out." She then dragged a slightly drunk Nathaniel back through the city, cursing him all the way.

He woke early the next morning with Kathryn at her bedside. She had her arms folded across her chest. "Some of you men… you truly are helpless."

"Maybe I need you to help me," Nathaniel replied groggily.

Kathryn gave him an odd look. "Mr. Briggs," she said at last, "When my father hears where my sisters and I have been going, he is going to clamp down on us like a vise." She paused, looking away. "I have plans to go to Scribbs College this fall. When you tell him about this… he will forbid it, and there will be nothing I can do."

There was a moment of silence as Nathaniel processed this. "And if I don't tell him?"

"There's a ship leaving for Panama tomorrow."

Nathaniel rubbed at his eyes, sitting up. "Isn't there some way we can both get what we want?"

Kathryn considered this. "I suppose that depends."

"Depends on what?"

"On how willing you are to marry me," she glanced at him. "You're hardly the worst man we've had come through." Nathaniel may not have known it then, but that was Kathryn's way of saying she appreciated him.

Nathaniel was surprised at first, and then began to think it over. Since the war, he had been lucky if a girl even looked twice at him. Of all her sisters, Kathryn seemed to be the brains of the operation, the driving force behind their rebellion—all because she didn't want to be told what to be or how to live. "Out of curiosity," he said at last, "What would you do with a college education?"

Kathryn gave him a cynical smile. "Who do you think is heir to Hampton Shipping? Until my father retires, I intend to write… perhaps I'll keep books for a business."

Nathaniel scratched at his jaw. "And for freedom you would marry a poor farmer with a limp."

"You're not a stupid man," Kathryn replied, "And I'm not a stupid girl. The money my father gives you will not last forever." She looked at him in earnest. "We can be successful, Nathaniel."

"And happiness?"

Kathryn hesitated. "I suppose," she said slowly, "It's the difference between marrying who you love and loving who you marry, isn't it?" She stood, going to the door. "Breakfast will be ready soon. You'll want to get dressed."

At breakfast Mr. Hampton called him for a private meeting. Each of the twelve girls lined up in the back of his office, looking proper, and only Kathryn did not keep her eyes on Nathaniel. She looked out the window at the garden.

"Well, Mr. Briggs," Mr. Hampton asked, sounding both tired and bored, "Have you found anything out?"

Eleven Hampton girls smirked. One refused to look at him.

"Yes, sir, I have," Nathaniel said, and watched eleven jaws drop as he described in detail their escapades to the speakeasies at night. "Sir," Nathaniel added, "So far as I can tell, your daughters have done nothing wrong."

Mr. Hampton smiled thinly. "I'll be the judge of that. Girls, is this true?"

There was a tense silence.

"It is," said a quiet voice.

It was Kathryn. She looked up. "It's true. Every word of it."

Mr. Hampton nodded. "So." He looked at Nathaniel. "And which of my daughters would you like to share your reward with?"

"I—"

"Me, Father," Kathryn said, she glanced at Nathaniel. "Unless Mr. Briggs has changed his mind since we last spoke."

Nathaniel stared at her in confusion a moment, and then understood. Kathryn was smart. Smart and stubborn. Nathaniel smiled—he supposed it wasn't so bad, to have a woman who wanted to win him, rather than the other way around. After a moment, he nodded, and extended his hand. Kathryn stepped forward and took it.

Her sisters couldn't believe it. Kathryn was the last woman on earth they would have expected to marry, least of all a farmer. She arched her eyebrow at them and asked—"What? At least I chose a good one."

Description
The year was 1923. President Harding was still alive, and Calvin Coolidge was still only vice president. The Prohibition was in place—almost as firmly as the speakeasies that protested it. A man named Fred Gifford was climbing the power ladder in the Ku Klux Klan—just how or why Mr. Gifford was doing what he was doing, no one was quite sure, but they didn't really mind that he was there, either. Frankly, everyone seemed to like him. It was the same year that the Klan would pass a bill prohibiting the ownership of land by foreigners, especially the Japs. They banned religious wear in public schools, too—to keep out the Catholics—and kept public schools from using textbooks that said negative things about the Founding Fathers. Almost everything they did suited Oregon just fine, at the time.
It certainly didn't bother Portland socialite and businessman Lowell Hampton, his wife Rosalie, or any of their twelve daughters.

Kathryn was the oldest, stubborn and smart. Helen and Evelyn were next, twins, and preferred jazz and gin to any other method of enjoyment. Grace was the quiet one, who bought copies of Weird Tales and wrote short stories in her room. Esther, Mae and Ruby were a team of artists—devotees of the poet Edna St. Vincent Millay and painter Tamara de Lempicka, who declared that they should like nothing better than to marry musicians or writers. Elizabeth and Louise longed to be actresses, and spent hours at the theater, committing entire films to memory. Olivia had found a home in the art of beauty and fashion. Pearl had committed herself to musical pursuits, and was attempting to find herself a band; and youngest of all was Emma, the darling of the family, the songbird.

The Hampton girls were good daughters… in daylight. Every morning, though, their shoes were worn through and the heels broken. Mr. Hampton couldn't understand it—where were his daughters going in the middle of the night that no one heard them leave?
Hampton was no fool—money he had, money to spare, and if his daughters were going somewhere he did not approve of, he would find out. He was the master of his house, and he would regain control.

He put out an advertisement—the man who found out where his daughters went at night could marry whichever of them he pleased, and get a hefty reward. It did not take long for the first to come—his name was Alton Paris, a handsome New Yorker who fancied himself a clever man. Upon introducing himself to the twelve sisters, Kathryn looked at her siblings, and muttered—"Easy."

Mr. Hampton gave Alton a room near the sisters', and told him that if he did not find out where the girls went after three days, the young man would find himself a ship hand for the rest of his life. Being the kind of young man he was, Alton assured Mr. Hampton that he needn't worry, and boasted of how he had been the cleverest man among his friends for as long as he could remember. "If that's the case," Kathryn muttered to her sisters behind closed doors, "His friends must be simpletons." Mr. Hampton thought to himself, Surely this young man will figure it out, and then our troubles will be over.

When everyone was settled in, Kathryn took Alton a glass of gin. "Think of it as a welcoming gift," Kathryn said with a charming smile. Being a foolish young man, Alton drank, and soon was slumbering without dreams. He woke in the morning, and the sisters had already returned, their shoes ruined and their clothes torn.

The second night it was pretty Emma who brought young Alton a drink. "We quite enjoy your company, Mr. Paris," she said, gazing at him admiringly. Of course she won him over and he drank, and when he woke in the morning the sisters had already been gone and back.
"This is your last night, or it's the ships!" Mr. Hampton promised. "I can't afford to have you wasting my time."

So Alton Paris resolved that he wouldn't drink with any of the sisters, since it was obvious the alcohol was to blame for his slumber. Yet he thought it quite alright when Grace asked him to smoke with her. She offered him a cigarette—"Of our family's own special make," she promised him. He fell asleep right in the parlor, and did not wake until morning. Mr. Hampton was furious, and had the boy carted off to the shipyards, to a ship bound for Australia.

The next to come was Billie Jones, a local. The Hampton girls knew him from around town, he was the son of a well-off businessman, and as of recent he was a Klansman. The sisters did not like him at all, as he had his eyes on Evelyn, and talked of turning her into a good Christian wife. Fierce Evelyn disliked the sound of that, and her twin Helen disliked it even more. Three nights he stayed, three nights he slept, and the sisters left and returned without a sound. Billie Jones was set upon a ship to Japan and not due back for several months. None of the Hampton girls were sad to see him go.

After him was Tony Farlowe, from San Francisco. He took a liking to quiet Grace, and they talked about Weird Tales and the writers whom they read. They talked of Bloch, Robert E. Howard, Derleth and someone called Lovecraft, and smoked the evenings away, after which Farlowe slept like the dead. He was sent out on a textile shipment to Alaska. Grace seemed a little sad, but more at the loss of a potential friend than a potential husband. "He was really the only one out of the lot that knew anything about horror," she sighed wistfully, as if this were an important quality in a man. (To Grace, it was.)

Then a new man came to Portland—he was originally of a small farming town a little to the south, the kind of place considered to be a portrait of idyllic America. His name was Nathaniel Briggs, formerly Corporal Briggs of the United States Army. He had been wounded in the Great War while fighting in the trenches France. Briggs was looking for work, and frustrated that he was unable to find it, since other than a slight limp (courtesy of the bullet that had got him in the knee during a charge) he was young and strong and quick. Certainly a shot to the knee hadn't at all affected his ability to work—only his ability to complete a military drill.

Briggs first heard about the Hampton girls and Mr. Hampton's offer from his landlady, Mrs. Baker, who was one of Portland's biggest gossips. "Mr. Hampton's already shipped off three boys who slept through their three nights," she told him. "Those girls, they take a man, chew him up and spit him out, if you ask me."

Nathaniel looked at his handful of pocket change, what remained of his dwindling funds, and thought how nice it would be to have part of the Hampton fortune. "I think I'll try it," he said, "It can't be that hard… and I've faced worse."

So he left Mrs. Baker's house with his things and began his long walk through the city, all his possessions in the world in the rucksack over his shoulder. Along the way he spotted an old woman begging for money on the corner. People passed her by with eyes studiously trained away, as if they didn't hear her cries for help. Nathaniel fished through his bag and found one of two sandwiches that Mrs. Baker had made for him. He crouched down next to the old woman and offered her the sandwich. "G'morning, missus," he said politely. "Weather sure is nice today."

The old woman smiled broadly—a few of her teeth were missing, but Nathaniel hardly noticed. "Thank you, boy," she said, her voice hoarse. "There still is some Christian good in this world, then."

Nathaniel shrugged. "I try to be a good Christian, ma'am."
"Well you're an awful lot closer than any of these prigs," the old woman told him matter-of-factly. She chewed rapidly on the sandwich, swallowing before she probably ought to have. "Where are you off to then, boy?" she asked around a mouthful of food.

"I've heard there's a bit of a mystery around the Hampton girls," Nathaniel replied, "And quite a reward for the taking, if it's solved. Seeing as no one's hiring me, I thought I'd try my hand at it."

"Oh, aye," the old woman said, wiping her mouth with her sleeve. "But mind you, don't drink or smoke anything those witches give you."

Nathaniel looked at her, surprised. "Why not?"
"It's damn well drugged, that's why," the old woman replied informatively, "Put you out like a light. Make sure you pretend you're asleep though, boy, and before you follow them put on some nice clothes so they won't recognize you." The old woman gripped Nathaniel's arm. "You're a good boy, you, don't know why you'd want to marry one of those sinful girls, but I want to return your kindness. Be careful—this city doesn't forgive mistakes."

He thanked the old lady for her advice, and left for the Hampton house, rubbing a penny between thumb and forefinger. Nathaniel didn't count himself as a superstitious man, but he hoped that having a shiny little copper of Lincoln might bring him a little push of American luck that he needed.

Mr. Hampton was unimpressed with Nathaniel. If educated men couldn't find out where his daughters were going at night, what made a poor soldier who had barely made it through the eighth grade think he could do so himself? (Nathaniel's educational level was purely conjecture on Mr. Hampton's part… Briggs had actually only made it through the seventh grade, as he had needed to help his father and brothers on the farm.) Still, Hampton decided it was of no import to him whether the man made it or not—if he did, then Mr. Hampton knew where his daughters went at night. If he didn't, then Hampton Shipping Co. had a new employee.

Nathaniel met the sisters in the parlor—and took off his hat, offering a friendly smile. "Don't imagine you're terribly excited to meet me," he said.

Kathryn arched an eyebrow. "So you are a smart man, after all."

Nathaniel laughed, and this seemed to startle the sisters most of all. "I'm a poor soldier, Miss, I don't want a wife, I just want a little money," he admitted.

An odd look crossed Kathryn's face as she and her sisters' shared glances.

Kathryn now faced a dilemma. Nathaniel Briggs was a different sort of man. He socialized freely with each of the sisters, and seemed to have expected that all twelve were better educated than he (which did not seem to terribly disturb him.) He reluctantly told them a little about his time as a soldier, but was very reticent about the war. He wasn't exceptionally handsome or clever as far as she could tell, and didn't try to look it. He seemed genuinely interested in what they had to say, though he was puzzled by Grace's obsession with horror stories and admitted to Elizabeth and Louise that he cared little for the cinema, and to Esther, Mae and Ruby that he knew very little about poetry and art, but the verses they recited certainly were very nice.

Kathryn didn't quite know what to do with him. She had a horrible premonition that she would feel terribly guilty putting this man aboard a ship bound for God-only-knew where.
She watched her sisters enjoying his company, and pursed her lips. "You say you don't want a wife," she said.

"I don't, Miss—at least, not one picked at random." He shrugged. "Can't say I'd mind, but I can't say that's why I came, either."

Kathryn nodded, and made a decision of her own.

Nathaniel knew none of this as he prepared that night. He laid out a nice set of clothes that he had borrowed from a neighbor at Mrs. Baker's house where they couldn't be seen, and waited.

Kathryn came to see him as the house was settling down, a glass of gin in her hand. "I thought you might like a drink, a welcoming gift," she said politely, and set it on his nightstand. "I hope you enjoy your stay, Mr. Briggs." Without another word, she turned and left.

Nathaniel glanced at the glass of gin, and when he was certain Kathryn was gone he poured it down the sink.

He heard the sisters stirring at around eleven thirty. He put on his nice clothes, and listened carefully.

"Have you got it?" someone whispered.

"Shh! Just open the trap door."

Trap door? Nathaniel stepped silently into the hall, and froze as a floorboard creaked. The Hampton girls must not have heard him, for they were still whispering.

Suddenly he heard Kathryn's voice cut quite clearly through the whispering. "Briggs—check that he's asleep."

Nathaniel leapt into bed and pulled the covers up to his neck, pretending to be asleep. The door creaked as twelve pairs of eyes peered inside. "He still has his shoes on," someone giggled. "Oh, he fell for it hook, line and sinker, Kathryn."

"Of course he did," Kathryn replied, "I almost feel sorry for him. Let's go back to the door."

Nathaniel waited as long as he dared before following them. The trap door they had mentioned was open, at the space that was once hidden under Kathryn's bed. There was a flight of stairs that descended down into the depths of the city underground. Nathaniel followed at a distance as the chattering sisters went ahead of him.

His heels clacked against the stone, and there was nothing for it but to try and walk at the same pace as the sisters.

"I hear someone behind us," Emma called out ahead, and Nathaniel's heart froze. If he was seen now, he would never find out where they went.

"It's an echo," Kathryn replied tartly, "You worry too much. Stick close."

They walked a long distance in the tunnel, and surfaced in an unfamiliar part of the city. Lights reflected off of the buildings, turning Portland into a metallic forest. It was easy to follow the sisters once on the street, and Nathaniel followed them all the way to the river. They slipped onto a ferry, talking and laughing, never noticing Nathaniel as he took his place near the back of the ferry.

There were several men with them. One nodded in Nathaniel's direction. "You know him?" he asked Kathryn.

Kathryn hardly glanced at him. "No, why?"

The man—who had to be at least six years older than Kathryn—shrugged. "Seemed like he was following you."

"Probably just going our way," Kathryn replied dismissively.

Nathaniel guessed that the dark and nice clothes had rendered him unrecognizable.
They got off on the other side of the river, immediately taking a twisting path through the city streets that would have left Nathaniel permanently lost had he not been able to keep an eye on them. "Don't you hear footsteps behind us?" Emma asked.

"How could you tell any footsteps from ours?" Kathryn asked. "It's just an echo."
Nathaniel breathed a little easier, and followed the twelve Hampton sisters to yet another tunnel—but this one housed a speakeasy. It was not hard to get in—Nathaniel had been visiting them since they appeared. He had been willing to die for his country, Nathaniel thought, his country should be willing to let him have a drink.

It was not very exciting, what these sisters were up to. They danced, they drank, they flirted—but what living human being at or above the age of sixteen didn't? So they loved jazz. Big deal. Nathaniel rolled his shoulders, had a drink, and waited for the sisters to leave just before the crack of dawn so he could follow them safely back.

Just before the group reached the Hampton house, Kathryn sent her sisters on ahead. "I'll meet up with you in a bit… there's something I want to check."

Nathaniel sank into the shadows, hardly daring to breathe. When her eleven sisters had gone, Kathryn called out—"You had better not get lost, Mr. Briggs. Portland is a dangerous city… particularly in the tunnels." There was a moment of silence, and then her heels clicking as she walked away. Taking her threat about getting lost to heart, Nathaniel followed closely, though out of sight, wondering how she had known he was there, or if she had really known at all.

None of the sisters were in their bedroom when Nathaniel came out of the trap door—they were all out on a balcony, smoking and laughing, and Nathaniel slipped unnoticed back into the other room.

At breakfast, Mr. Hampton asked if Nathaniel had discovered anything. Eleven of the girls looked smug… Kathryn watched him warily. "No sir," Nathaniel replied apologetically, "But I shall try again tonight."

An expression of surprise crossed Kathryn's face, and she stared at him in puzzlement. After the meal, she cornered him in the yard. "What games are you playing, Mr. Briggs?" she demanded.

"Couldn't very well just take the money without getting a dance from one of you, now, could I?" Nathaniel replied.

Kathryn practically snarled. "If my sisters knew what I know—"

"Then be glad they don't," Nathaniel suggested with a smile.

Kathryn pursed her lips and gave him a sour smile. "And what do you plan to do? Just pop in and get a dance when they think you're not there?"

"You knew I was around, something tells me you'll know when I'm there."
Her eyes narrowed. "Take care not to get yourself shanghaied," she said flatly, and turned sharply on her heel.

The warning fell on ignorant ears. Nathaniel had no idea what "shanghaied" meant.
He was a naïve man, compared to those who knew the city's dark side. Had he listened to half the tales people told about Portland, he might have understood that it was considered the Shanghai Capital of the World, and that he could as easily follow the girls to the speakeasy as be kidnapped and sold to a ship's captain. Of course, had any of the twelve Hampton girls been shanghaied, their fate would have been much worse than mere slavery on a ship. It was a rule, for them, to stick together, and always keep an eye on the other eleven. But Nathaniel Briggs knew none of this.

Nathaniel spent the day socializing with the other eleven Hampton sisters as a sullen Kathryn watched from the sidelines. He was shown around the gardens, allowed to view the artwork and poetry, the sole audience for a play with a cast of two, and a concert put on by Pearl and Emma. Nathaniel smiled frequently and applauded them all, and yet there was not a lying bone in his body, if Kathryn was reading him right. He was sincere, and somehow that made it all worse.

He followed them again that night—Emma became more insistent that she heard other footsteps and he was forced to keep to the shadows to avoid detection, even as Kathryn angrily insisted that it was nothing but an echo. The speakeasy was buzzing with activity, enough so that when Kathryn was alone, Nathaniel snagged his dance. She gave him a sour look when she first spotted him. "I wish you would just claim your prize and go," she told him.

"And why is that?" he asked. "Your family seems to like me well enough."

"Because if I am going to have to live my life against my father's wishes I don't want you in the picture," she replied. "All men have ever done is tell me how to live and what to be."

Nathaniel looked her in the eye. "You seem to have done just fine on your own."
Kathryn stopped in shock, staring at him.

He followed them again the last night, eleven of the Hampton girls still convinced that he was ignorant of their wanderings. Realizing this was the last night he would ever see any of them, Nathaniel drank a little more than he should have… and was no small amount of surprised when the floor dropped out from underneath him. Nathaniel's memory of what happened next was foggy—a combination of alcohol and shock—but he did recall a livid Kathryn following him down and threatening the men with jail "if her father ever found out." She then dragged a slightly drunk Nathaniel back through the city, cursing him all the way.

He woke early the next morning with Kathryn at her bedside. She had her arms folded across her chest. "Some of you men… you truly are helpless."

"Maybe I need you to help me," Nathaniel replied groggily.

Kathryn gave him an odd look. "Mr. Briggs," she said at last, "When my father hears where my sisters and I have been going, he is going to clamp down on us like a vise." She paused, looking away. "I have plans to go to Scribbs College this fall. When you tell him about this… he will forbid it, and there will be nothing I can do."

There was a moment of silence as Nathaniel processed this. "And if I don't tell him?"

"There's a ship leaving for Panama tomorrow."

Nathaniel rubbed at his eyes, sitting up. "Isn't there some way we can both get what we want?"

Kathryn considered this. "I suppose that depends."

"Depends on what?"

"On how willing you are to marry me," she glanced at him. "You're hardly the worst man we've had come through." Nathaniel may not have known it then, but that was Kathryn's way of saying she appreciated him.

Nathaniel was surprised at first, and then began to think it over. Since the war, he had been lucky if a girl even looked twice at him. Of all her sisters, Kathryn seemed to be the brains of the operation, the driving force behind their rebellion—all because she didn't want to be told what to be or how to live. "Out of curiosity," he said at last, "What would you do with a college education?"

Kathryn gave him a cynical smile. "Who do you think is heir to Hampton Shipping? Until my father retires, I intend to write… perhaps I'll keep books for a business."

Nathaniel scratched at his jaw. "And for freedom you would marry a poor farmer with a limp."

"You're not a stupid man," Kathryn replied, "And I'm not a stupid girl. The money my father gives you will not last forever." She looked at him in earnest. "We can be successful, Nathaniel."

"And happiness?"

Kathryn hesitated. "I suppose," she said slowly, "It's the difference between marrying who you love and loving who you marry, isn't it?" She stood, going to the door. "Breakfast will be ready soon. You'll want to get dressed."

At breakfast Mr. Hampton called him for a private meeting. Each of the twelve girls lined up in the back of his office, looking proper, and only Kathryn did not keep her eyes on Nathaniel. She looked out the window at the garden.

"Well, Mr. Briggs," Mr. Hampton asked, sounding both tired and bored, "Have you found anything out?"

Eleven Hampton girls smirked. One refused to look at him.

"Yes, sir, I have," Nathaniel said, and watched eleven jaws drop as he described in detail their escapades to the speakeasies at night. "Sir," Nathaniel added, "So far as I can tell, your daughters have done nothing wrong."

Mr. Hampton smiled thinly. "I'll be the judge of that. Girls, is this true?"

There was a tense silence.

"It is," said a quiet voice.

It was Kathryn. She looked up. "It's true. Every word of it."

Mr. Hampton nodded. "So." He looked at Nathaniel. "And which of my daughters would you like to share your reward with?"

"I—"

"Me, Father," Kathryn said, she glanced at Nathaniel. "Unless Mr. Briggs has changed his mind since we last spoke."

Nathaniel stared at her in confusion a moment, and then understood. Kathryn was smart. Smart and stubborn. Nathaniel smiled—he supposed it wasn't so bad, to have a woman who wanted to win him, rather than the other way around. After a moment, he nodded, and extended his hand. Kathryn stepped forward and took it.

Her sisters couldn't believe it. Kathryn was the last woman on earth they would have expected to marry, least of all a farmer. She arched her eyebrow at them and asked—"What? At least I chose a good one."