When we finally got upstairs, Dawn and Darby asked me to explain the big bug eyes I made at the dinner table. I told them that when Burton and Lily talked about their marriage license, it reminded me that Alex was working as a clerk in the courthouse for the summer — the very same courthouse where they applied for their license!

“Maybe he can do something to stop it,” I said as I bounced on my bed. “Like maybe he’ll notice they didn’t check the right box or something and then their marriage would be illegal?”

“Or he could stamp a big, red DENIED on it,” Darby said.

“Or he could tear it up into tiny pieces,” Dawn said. She let out a loud sigh and shook her head. “I still can’t believe they don’t have to take a test for something as important as marriage. Sometimes government fails us.”

We decided to go visit Alex at his job the very next day.

Mom always lets us walk to Ever’s store and the library when we want to — and the courthouse is just three blocks farther — so we figured we didn’t need to ask permission. We ate breakfast and waited until Mom started working at her desk. She’s a bookkeeper, which sort of sounds like she’s a librarian, but it isn’t the same thing. They really should call it a budgeter or bill payer. Anyway, some days she has only a little work to do and some days she is at her computer all day, making pages full of numbers, and mumbling. Today looked as if it was going to be a mumbly day, which was good for us.

We waited until she got that look of tremendous focus. You can tell by her eyebrows. They push together right above her nose like a couple of fuzzy, head-butting caterpillars. That’s when you know she’s lost in the numbers.

“Mom, we’re going to town for a little while, okay?” Dawn said.

“Mmm-hmm,” she said, still staring at the screen. “Be back by lunchtime.” We were stepping through the door when she added, “And don’t come back dirty or muddy!”

We walked along Nugent Road toward the middle of town, keeping to the left-hand side the way Lily always taught us. Along the way, we passed the Neighbors, who live opposite Ms. Woolcott. For a long time, we thought Mom, Dad, and Lily just never bothered to learn the names of the nice older couple in the white farmhouse. Then at some point, we realized Neighbor really was their last name.

Mr. Neighbor was in his front yard, chasing squirrels away from his bird feeder.

“Make way for ducklings!” he called out to us as we passed his house. He always says this. He makes fun of the way we walk single file for a couple of blocks until there’s more room for us to be side by side and not stick out into the road. We don’t mind, though, since he’s nice and we always loved the picture book.

“Good morning, Mr. Neighbor,” I said.

“Good morning,” he said back. “I’ve got the water going. You’re welcome to run around in it.”

He nodded toward the sprinklers in his backyard. His sprinklers are much more fun than ours. Last year, Mom exchanged the ones that spray in a circle for underground ones that just pop up and go whoosh. But Mr. Neighbor still has the circle ones. Dawn, Darby, and I like to run around in a game of keep-away from each other and the water. Quincy always hears us and joins in, which makes one more obstacle. We always end up sopping wet and covered in grass. Then Mrs. Neighbor usually comes out and gives us some of her homemade ice cream.

Dawn, Darby, and I all think this is just about the best way to spend a summer day, so when he offered, we stopped to confer. It was getting hot. And Mom didn’t say anything about getting wet, so we could get off on a technicality. Eventually, we decided that the courthouse wouldn’t look too kindly on triplets that showed up dripping wet and grassy, and our mission was much too important, so we politely declined and continued on our way.

Twenty minutes later, we were at the big brick Blanco County Courthouse. By then, the sun was higher and hotter, and we were so sweaty Dawn said we might as well have gotten wet from the sprinklers. We stood in the shade of the north entryway and fanned each other with a Thrifty Nickel someone had left on the steps, until our faces weren’t pink anymore and most of the sweat had dried. Then we headed through the doors to the building.

Inside, it was real quiet, and it took us a while to find someone. Eventually we peeked into a room and saw a lady sitting at a desk. In a chair against the wall was a guard reading a newspaper. The lady glanced up at us and got the same wide-eyed, rabbity look that Ms. Caldwell had when she met us. Since Johnson City has less than two thousand residents, most of them either know us or know about us. She must not have been from around here.

“Excuse me. Can I help you?” she said, looking at each of us in turn. People tend to do that. It’s like they can’t decide which one of us to talk to, so they glance at each of us for a little while and then repeat the process, making them look like oscillating fans.

Dawn stepped forward and cleared her throat the way she does when she feels like she’s the boss. “Yes, you may. We are here to see Mr. Alexander Hawthorne.”

“And … what is this regarding?”

“We can’t tell you that,” I said.

“What she means is” — Dawn leaned in front of me — “it’s a personal matter.”

The lady and the security guard exchanged looks. He was grinning and she was pressing her lips together the way people do when they want to keep from laughing. “I see,” she said. “Is it a matter of life or death?”

“Life,” Darby said. “It’s a matter of life. Two lives hang in the balance. And maybe a third, too — a lesser, armadillo-ish one.”

Now the lady just looked confused. “One moment.” She stood and headed out of the room. A minute later, she returned with Alex.

“These are the young ladies I was telling you about,” she said to him. “Apparently, they are having problems with an armadillo.”

“Hey there,” he said when he saw us. He was smiling big, but his eyes were all bewildered. For some reason, everyone seemed simultaneously happy and puzzled to see us. “What are you three doing here? Is everything okay?”

“No, it’s not okay,” Dawn said. “Everything is dreadful.”

“Horrific,” Darby said.

“Appalling,” I said. “And only you can stop it.”

“Should I call for help?” Alex looked really worried. He glanced over at the security guard, but the man had disappeared behind his newspaper again.

“No, we just need you, Alex,” Darby said.

“You’re the only one who can help,” I said.

“It won’t take long,” Dawn said. “I promise.”

Alex looked over at the lady and she shrugged. “Perhaps you’d better go with them.”

He nodded. “I’ll be back soon.”

As soon as we headed down the front steps of the courthouse, Alex turned to us and said, “So what’s going on? You’ve got me all nervous.”

“Is there somewhere we can go to talk?” Dawn said.

Alex glanced at his watch. “I can take an early lunch break. How about we head to Ever’s for a bite and you can tell me what this is all about?”

“Great!” we said at the same time, and the four of us started down the sidewalk.

Except I skipped instead of walked because I was so happy. Now that Alex said he would help us, I felt sure everything would be okay. And that hopeful feeling made my feet boing instead of take steps.

Only, I shouldn’t have celebrated early. It’s like when the House of Representatives wants to pass a bill. Sometimes the right thing to do can be so obvious, but it still isn’t easy making it happen.