"Can't says that I remember you, feller, as I've only been around for about a year'n'a half, but looks to me that your wife is right on the money 'bout that hair of yours! Have a seat."

He directed the man to Karl's swivel chair (which had cost nearly two hundred dollars, eating into Karl's inheritance) and threw a sheet around the man to prevent his cut hair from falling around him.

The fascinated lumberjack, annoyed with Karl's pause in the story, goaded him to continue, "So what happened to Todd after he kilt all dem bankers?"

Remembering that all folk deserved common courtesy, Karl nodded without smiling to Ambrose and said "Almost through here, be with in a sec." As he was finishing Honest's trim, he concluded, "Well, the Mad Barber was never seen again in London's East Side. Rumor has it he caught a ship in London Harbor and is cuttin' hair and people again out here on America's Frontier!" He paused as he turned toward Ambrose, who was watching him with fascination. "Of course, it's ain't nothin' more than a legend, right?" Karl tried to look sinister as he made that question, but with detrimental effects.

"Eh, Karl, nobody goin' to mistake you for a demon barber, man. You face is too pretty." The big lumberjack laughed as he paid Karl and continued laughing as he left. Karl called out to him, "A damn sight prettier n'your ugly wife!" he yelled in jest to Honest, but the insult never reached the man's ears.

Karl was now alone with his new client. He said, "Well, Mr. Milliner, what do you need done for ya today?"

The young hatter took his place in the chair with the ease of one who has often used the services of others. His long golden locks hung over the back of the chair in a touseled mass of curls. It was a fine, soft texture, the sort that would be almost a shame to cut off. And even though Ambrose had let his beard grow for several weeks for the part of the pirate, it was still barely more than a rough halo on his chin and cheeks.

The shop adjoined the famous Hatrack Café, but it was a separate business entirely. Karl held the deed to the entire building, a two-story structure. The café was on the south side of the building, and took two stories of the structure. He had left the business in trust before he left, but wasn’t interested in running it any longer on his return. Rather than being two separate stories, it remained a building with high ceilings, and a stairwell along the inner wall, leading to the two apartments upstairs.

The apartment in front was always rented to one or another café employee, Karl could never keep track of who worked there. The larger apartment in back remained empty save a few extra suits that were inevitably too heavy to carry on the road, and a bed, its sheets still made from when Karl last left town.

Below the apartments, and through a small indiscriminate door at the back of the café was the rear entrance to Karl’s Barber Shop. This entrance was hardly ever used, and hadn’t been opened (he hoped) since he was last in Hatrack River.

The building was on a makeshift side street in town, near Main Street, but not close enough to be considered “On Main,” but since the other streets in town never had any names that remained consistent from year to year, the café and Barber Shop always maintained Main Street addresses. Usually letters were addressed to “Hatrack Café or Hatrack Barber, Hatrack River, Hio Territory,” so it really didn’t make any difference anyhow.

To the bewilderment of the customers, Karl hauled box after box through the café, tipping his hat and smiling to the same people as he passed through, dragged them up the stairs and into the rear apartment. Once he was had finally brought everything inside, he lay back and tried to nap, but he was too excited to be back, and decided to check out the barber shop.

Since, the Barber Shop’s outer lock had to be opened from the inside, Karl walked back through the café, holding a particularly cumbersome box and opened the door that was never opened. Inside the Barber Shop, he struck a match and lit a lantern. It smelled a mixture of chemicals and musk, for the mildew had been accumulating over the course of Hatrack’s humid summer.

He set the box down and opened it. On the top was his heart’s desire, the certificate he’d been working all summer to achieve, from the Institute of Surgical Practices, University of Luther.

The sign he pained was a simplification of the notices he’d strewn around town:

HATRACK BARBER AND SURGERY
HAIRCUTS, WHIGS, SHAVES
FULLY ACCREDITED DENTALISTRY
EXTRACTIONS, FITTINGS, IMPORTS
KARL MUELLER, S.B.D., PROPRIETOR

It was painted in haste, but although the letters appeared rushed, they remained in place. Karl had a knack, if he could even call it that, for patterning, and he couldn’t sacrifice aesthetics for time.

It didn’t seem to matter. There was NOBODY on the street.

He slipped into the dark café, and heated up some water, silently hoping against all hope that someone he knew would notice one of his papers on the street or the light in his window, stop in for tea and catch him up on all the latest gossip.

Maybe Charity or Ambrose would be happy to see him and stop by. It would do him good to know where things stood with everybody before he began to put in appearances here and there.

Or maybe someone had a bum tooth?

Darn it was quiet…

"Hey, Karl! This place's been locked up fer a long time. Whatchyou been doin'?"

Trout Fisher's hair was hacked unevenly, and there were a couple of healing cuts on his neck thanks to his sister Jenny's resentful attempts at keeping his hair a reasonable length. His beard had grown, too, and there were some unpleasant unidentifiable chunks matted under his chin. Previously, the fisherman had kept a respectable stubble, but Karl's abandonment had allowed Trout's face to become something to wince at.

"Hey, Karl! This place's been locked up fer a long time. Whatchyou been doin'?" Trout shouted, as if Karl had been gone only a few days.

“Have a seat, Trout, I’ll get you all fixed up,” Karl brushed the barber chair of dust and Trout sat down.

Karl then went over to the box that he had brought with him and pulled out a shiny silverish object that resembled a twisted pair of pliers.

"Now you get in here, Musik Walker!" Kathryn had the child by the arm and was trying to work her fully into the shop. One look at the child was enough to show both men why she had come. Musik's hair was haphazardly cut at different lengths, as if the girl had taken a pair of sheep shears to her own hair. Finally, once she got the young'un inside and firmly placed in a seat, Kathryn turned to Karl.

"Pardon me, but my daughter here..." She sent a withering glance to Musik, who proceeded to lower her eyes like a 'dutifully disciplined' daughter. "got the idea in her mind to give herself a haircut. I can pay, and don't mind the wait... but I was wondering if you could help us out here."

It’s why the barber shop tended to be a ribald place to be back in the 1830s (after all, where else could men go to get away from women before the taverns opened!), and why the Karl suspiciously eyed the woman who had the utter gall to walk in. Karl said under his breath, but within the immobile Trout’s hearing, “Well, if I’m gonna be doing surgery, we better get used t’seein’ ‘em.”

It was then the shock had worn off, and Karl got a good look at the poor little girl, the woman had identified as Musik when they came in. He couldn’t move from the man he was shaving, (but he did at least stop what he was doing—Trout’s face was like a cobblestone road, and he had to be extra careful with the razor) so he stood there with a sympathetic frown. His voice went up half an octave as he spoke to the child. “Well, ain’t you a sight… what you gone and done to your pretty little hair, Miss…Musik…is it?”

Karl’s expression changed to seriousness as he looked at her mother. “I’m afraid we don’t have much of an option, here, Ma’am. From what I can see, I'm gonna have to cut it like a boy’s to make it look half right, Mrs….?”

“I’m afraid we don’t have much of an option, here, Ma’am. From what I can see, I'm gonna have to cut it like a boy’s to make it look half right, Mrs….?”

So it would have to come off. That's what she was afraid of. It took her a moment to respond.

"Hmm? Oh-- Walker. Ms. Walker. I'm the local Animal Physiker..." She smiled, and tried to hide her nervousness at being where she was- doing a poor job of it too. "Please, Mr. Mueller, just help my baby out..."

At the barbers words, Musik's lip began to tremble and it was obvious the child was holding back tears. Her big eyes were brimming with'em.

But her pleading made him feel for her, and the look on that poor Muzik’s face…

“Now come on, little girl, it ain’t all that bad. You can go on down to Miss Charity’s after we straighten it up and get some right pretty bonnets real cheap, just tell her Karl sent you, and by the time Easter passes, it’ll be grown out enough to look plumb pretty. Now I’m sure I got some hard candy around here…somewhere…if I can remember where I stored it. Trout, you don’t mind waitin’ for just a second while I get…here it is!”

With that, Karl produced a sucker still in the wrapper from a bag at the front as he held it out to little Musik, making sure MIZZ Walker approved.

“Now you just wait here patiently while I finish Mr. Fisher up.”

Kathryn smiled at Mr. Mueller's attempts to sooth her Musik. At the sight of the sucker, she seemed to perk up a little bit, though her hand occasionally strayed to the longest bits of her hair, touching it tenderly as if it would break off more if she was too rough.

"Thank you, Mr. Mueller." Kathryn said softly. "but we've taken you away from your customer... Please, we don't want to be a bother."

The fisherman flipped Karl a quarter and went on his way. Karl bent over and fixed the chair so it sat higher, and then invited the little girl up into it. “Here you Miss Muzik. We’re gonna make you look all brand new.”

As he cut, with remarkable timing and precision, his scissors gleamed in the gaslight. It had finally occurred to him that MIZZ also likely meant that MIZZ Walker was not hitched to anyone—and Karl didn’t mind the fact that she was prepackaged with a family of her own. He never thought the good Lord wanted him to reproduce anyway…he could just never seem to find the woman to pique his fancy.

But he was thirty-two years old now…and not many more chances were out there to stop Mutter und Vater Mueller from incessantly asking, “Vhen vill you get a vife?” every time they wrote. The hopelessly child-ridden were ideally suited for him.

“So, MIZZ Walker, what does little Muzik’s father do?”

"He used to be a map maker..." she replied, answering both questions she assumed he had. She no longer wore all black as was fitting a mourner, but a small black scarf was tied around her right forearm, just to help her remember him. "He passed away just under a year ago."

Though she didn't mind talking about him, Kathryn would rather change the subject.

"So, Mr. Mueller... what brought you to Hatrack? I was rather surprised to find this barber shop open."

"As a matter of fact, I just got back the other day." He then smiled at Ms. Walker, and spun little Musik around. Her hair was charmingly haircut, completely even, which made her very, very much look like an altar boy.

"Why it looks right pretty." She played with a few strands of it, trying to get Musik to smile....

Not one to be a proud child, she turned into Mammy's waiting arms and began to bawl.

"M-m-my h-hair!... I l-l-look like a-a b-b-boy!" She could feel Mammy stroking her hair and trying to calm her down, telling her how pretty her hair always was and still is, telling her it would grow back. Telling her that Mr. Mueller did a good job of making it even. Musik realized that she must have hurt the poor man's feelings with her tears and tried to calm down a little bit.

Sniffling loudly andwiping her nose-- to Mammy's dismay-- on her sleeve, Musik turned back to the mirror, looking at herself and trying to find something good about this haircut. It was better than having it all different lengths.

Karl joined the poor little girl’s mother in laughing, but he bent down and straightened her out. “Now, there, pumpkin, yer just such a pretty little thing, it only means that your gonna have to wear dresses even more, just to prove what a little lady you are.”

He stood up at that point to address Ms. Walker. “And take my idea about the bonnet.” He spread his hands in front of him as if miming putting a bonnet on. “Miss Weaver will probably do one up for less than a quarter.”

Thinking only to stop her from laughing, a deep growl came from his throat, and he moved slowly towards the child.

"stop laughing!" he kept growling over and over, though he knew she couldn't understand.

Meanwhile, in the barber shop...

Musik was a little disappointed that this meant she would have to be even more like a lady now. Mammy always had her dressin' and talkin' all proper like and she just wanted to have fun! It was no fair! All a'cause of that stupid Susan.

"When's it gonna curl?" Susan had said it would curl. Musik had always wanted curly hair. Hers was always straight and flat, or at least she thought so.

Mammy looked confused. "Baby, your hair isn't going to curl. Why would you think that?"

"Susan... told me... it would."

"Oh, honey...." Mammy lifted her up out of the barber chair and hugged her before setting her down. "... Your hair just doesn't have any curl in it, Musik... I've told you that." Mammy kept one arm around her shoulder, but looked up to talk to that Mueller man.

"I'll be sure to stop by and let her pick out a few bonnets that she might like. Thank you, Mr. Mueller." Mammy smiled. "I know where to go if I have a toothache, and I hope you won't hesitate to call on me if you have an ill animal or something..."

"Mammy is the animal physiker." Musik grinned up at Mr. Mueller.

"Now, Musik. What do you say too Mr. Mueller?"

Musik was about to say the customary 'thank you' to the man when she heard Shadow barking and growling outside. When she looked, she saw Susan and she forgot all about her thank-yous.

Her back was against the building across the alley from the barber, and she was debating on the best course of action. She could stay and hope Ms. Walker (she had an idea that Musik would encourage him) came out to stop the wolf before it ate her throat. Or she could hike up her dress, which had way too many layers to it making it very unsuitable for running, turn her back to the beast, and run as fast as she could. She harbored no delusions about being able to outrun a wolf all the way to the House, but she thought she just might make it close enough to Main Street that someone would be able to help her before the wolf ate her.

She never had a chance to try it, however, 'cause Musik chose that moment to finally notice her, yelling names at her from inside the store. For the few seconds Susan had left to her before Musik was within reach, she was truly sorry for fibbing and daring Musik to cut her hair, but she never got any sort of apology out before Musik was upon her.

“Ms. Walker!” he chided, “When ya said ya were an animal doctor, I thought ya meant pets and livestock, but that thing is actin’ like it’s yers and it’s gonna eat that girl if you don’t do something!”

He was more astounded by little Musik, who looked so suddenly like a little boy for all it was worth.

"Don't worry, Mr. Mueller. He won't harm her. Shadow. come!" The wolf immediately obeyed with a look to her saying ~I was just protecting the little miss. You can take it from here.~

She moved to the two children rolling around on the ground. Musik had a fistful of Susan's hair gripped tightly in her fingers. She probably would have tried to yank it out by the roots if Kathryn hadn't intervened. She grabbed both girls by the scruff of their dresses, yanking them to their feet before holding them apart by the shoulders.

She allowed herself to be led into the barber shop, as if she could have got away from the iron grip Musik's mum had on her shoulder. She steeled herself for yet another lecture on how to act like a lady. It seems she'd been getting more of her fair share of those at the Home, and now to be lectured in a barber shop, a man's store!

It was beyond her wildest dreams...

Musik's mum had seated them on the bench, looking from one to the other as if unsure who to start in on first. Susan saw her look in exasperation to Mister Karl, and took the opportunity to smile at the distraught looking Musik. Susan vowed to herself to make sure to tell her later that her hair didn't look too bad.

Of course, just Susan's luck that she was still smiling when Musik's mum turned her piercing green eyes back to the girls.

Susan - having a good time away from her chores

"Wipe that grin off your face!" Her 'mother' tone came naturally, and she wanted these girls to be shaking on the benches. Fighing outside where anyone could see-- but more for that absurd dare.

"look at you two! I would have thought you would have more sense, Musik. Have I taught you nothing?" Sensing that she was dealing more with Musik than Susan, she switched her attention. "and you. WHat possesed you to trick my little girl into cutting her hair off? What did she do to you?... How old are you, susan."

While mammy's attentions were on Mr. Mueller, Musik looked over at Susan. Why had she been smilin' like that? The dirty rotten liar. Musik had thought they could be friends, but she didn't believe that no more. What friend would do something like Susan did to her. Susan KNEW her hair was her favorite part of her... Making it all curly would have made it purtier, but now it just looked like a boys cut...