William Horace Avett had always proudly announced his children -- his girl children -- had each inherited some part of their mother when she died. 

It was the truest, kindest thing Bill had ever said to his oldest child and only son, and now, even three years after his father's death, Jacky Avett still knew it to be true. 

Willa's trait was easy. That one had been growing on her even before their mother had died. He didn't like to think about his sister at the still too often. He could still see his twin now, in all of her resplendent teenage gawkiness, on hands and knees scrubbing out the mash basin like she was bathing a child. He'd been so angry then. Part of him still blamed himself for not just taking her away with him. 

Vi's was a little tougher to place, but only until you tried to talk to her for more than a few minutes. It took her only that long to decide whether she liked you or not. If she did, she'd curse, call you a name, and invite you down to the Big River Saloon where she'd worked underage for years before it closed. He didn't know where she was inviting people now. He had an idea he was too afraid to test.

And if she didn't like you...well, she'd curse, call you a name, and invite you to do something a little less friendly, but equal frowned upon in decent society. 

Then there was Kitty. Little Kitty, who it was a wonder wasn't spoiled, the way their daddy had doted on her. Then again, growing up with Willa and Vi, there wasn't much room to get prissy. If Kitty had lived with him, he'd have let her get every bit as prissy as she liked. He'd have taken her up to New York with him, would have had to beat off the boys with a stick when -- if -- she ever caught on to the new flapper style, all short hair and short dresses. 

Kitty had adopted their mother's looks, dark hair, green eyes, freckles for days, and a smile that could outshine the sun. She wore it softer than their mama had, and Jack thought maybe some of that was his doing. She was gentler than Annie Avett had been, quieter, too, though that had been the breech birth, according to the doctor. 

Still. Kitty Avett was pretty, sharp as a whip, and stubborn as they came. He knew full well the records he'd bought for her birthday next week wouldn't do a thing to change her attitude toward him. She was far too loyal to her daddy and sisters for that. No matter how much she loved that colored music. 

"Whatcha got there, Jacky -- er, Chief?" 

Jack looked up from the notes strewn across his desk to one of his Saloon City officers, a skinny kid named Thomas Shaw. Thomas was just two years younger than Jack, and had graduated the police academy a year after Jack had, deciding to leave behind his Virginia routes to join his friend down in Pickett County. Jack knew Thomas had probably only been drawn by the smaller numbers -- greater chance of earning Chief of Police if Jack didn't cut it. But the kid was loyal and hardworking, and it went a long way these days. 

"Nothin' much," Jack answered with a yawn. He and his other officer, George Gable, had been out late the night before investigating rumors from some of the church wives across the river, who swore up and down they'd seen stills in the woods. "It's my baby sister's birthday next week. She's turnin' seventeen, and I can guarantee you, Vi and Willa ain't -- "

"What're you doin' with negro music?" said Thomas, instantly skeptical as he arrived at Jack's desk and picked up one of the records -- An Evening Duke Ellington and Friends. The other was the newest record by Bessie Smith. 

Jack shrugged, somehow equally apathetic and defensive. "Kitty loves it. She'd carry Mama's old gramophone around with her everywhere if she could." He said nothing about trying to buy back his younger sister from the life she was being led into.

Thomas studied the record a moment longer, then shrugged and dropped it back down on the desk. "Kids these days," he tutted. "You and Gable get anywhere last night?"

"Nowhere that counts," Jack said, tucking the records and an unsigned card into an empty drawer. "Might have a new lead for today, though. You up for a drive?"

Tom grinned, showing tar-stained teeth. "Always."