Stephanie Tammy's Arc

Chapter 1 of 2

Stephanie Tammy climbed the steps of the licensing hall at first light. Her key no longer fit the lock. A new brass plate above the door read TAMMY, in fresh paint. Her aunt had taken every permit in Donnellila two days ago, and the town still called Stephanie the head lawyer, but no one would sign a warrant against blood. She stood on the porch and counted what she had. A grudge. A missing key. No proof the seizure broke any law. If she pried the door open now, the sheriff would side with the paperwork inside, not with her. A clerk let her in through the side entrance. He would not meet her eyes. The main counter was stacked with permit books in fresh leather. Above the counter hung the kinship ledger, moved from its old shelf to a place of honor. Stephanie asked to see the transfer order. The clerk slid a single page across the counter. Aunt Tammy had signed as acting registrar. The seal was correct. The date was correct. Stephanie read it twice and felt the case slip out from under her. Then she read the third line again. The transfer cited a bylaw requiring the registrar to be a resident of Donnellila for one full year. Aunt Tammy practiced law in the town one valley over. She had come in on a horse three days ago. Stephanie asked for the kinship ledger. The clerk hesitated, then lifted it down. She turned to the T pages. Tammy Edwards, her aunt, listed by marriage to a cousin who had died before the town was chartered. Residence: outside the county line. No entry updating the address. No naturalization filed. She copied the page in her own hand and had the clerk witness and date the copy. Then she walked to the courthouse and put the copy in Ed's hand. Ed read it at his desk. He was her boyfriend and the head judge, and he did not like either fact at that moment. "If I sign this, half the town says you used me." "If you don't sign it, she keeps every permit," Stephanie said. "Including yours to sit in that chair." He read the bylaw again. He read the ledger copy. He signed an order voiding the transfer for lack of standing and set a hearing for the following morning. By noon the clerk had posted the order on the licensing hall door. The brass plate stayed up. Aunt Tammy did not. Stephanie stood on the steps again with the key the clerk had cut for her. It fit. Inside, the permit books were still stacked in her aunt's order, not hers, and a rider was already saddled at the rail, headed north toward the valley where Aunt Tammy kept her other office. Stephanie had the hall back. She had one night before her aunt rode back with a lawyer of her own.