by P. Creeden
Mother smiled back at him. “Why yes, that’s me.”
He bowed slightly. “Where is Mr. Lockwood? I’m Sam Shelby, from the Pinkerton Agency. I’m here to lend a hand in making your arrival in Denver go smoothly until you’re settled in.”
“That’s very kind of you. My husband is right over there, with the porter.”
Hazel’s brow furrowed in confusion. This wasn’t Geoffrey. A small string of disappointment was plucked in her heart as she followed the tall, handsome fellow as he made his way through the station in the direction my father stood. Still, he continued to look back and hold back the crowd, clearing a path for both Hazel and her mother. Gentlemanly. If she could say anything about him other than the striking gray color of his eyes, it was that he seemed a gentleman. Although he wasn’t what she’d expected, she could get over her disappointment and give the man a chance to help them through the relocation.
A shot rang out nearby--so loud that Hazel immediately ducked and cowered. Mr. Shelby put a hand on both her shoulder and her mother’s. “Stay down,” he said sharply as he drew his own weapon.
Screams filled the station as people scattered in every direction. In her chest, Hazel’s heart raced and a ringing in her ears kept her from being able to think. She blinked hard and had only one thought. “Father?” she cried out as she straightened.
“Stay down,” Mr. Shelby said again, her hand still heavy upon her shoulder. But as the crowd parted, she saw one thing that made her blood curl. Her father was no longer standing next to the porter. He was on the ground, and red bloomed over his gray pinstripe suit jacket.
Chapter 7
“Father!” Hazel cried again, shrugging off Mr. Shelby’s hand and rushing toward her father’s prone form. She hesitated as a man darted past her and then she ran forward again, falling to her knees on the platform. “You’re hurt!”
His face contorted with pain as he hissed. His eyes grew wide and his face pale. “It’s all right, darling. It doesn’t hurt too badly. I was wounded worse than this in the war.”
“Clarence!” Mother cried as well as she fell to his other side.
Father winced as he sat up, a hand pressing against his shoulder. “I’m telling you both--don’t worry. I’m fine.”
Her mother’s voice shook as she ordered him. “Sit still. You’re not fine. We...we need help. We need a doctor.”
Suddenly, Sam Shelby’s form came into view. “Mr. Lockwood, I already sent a porter for the doctor, but I have some field experience with gunshot wounds. Lie back. Your wife is right that if you move around too much you’ll only make things worse.”
Then the Pinkerton Agent pulled his jacket off and balled it up to place it under her father’s head. He then met eyes with Hazel. “Do you have any cloths in one of those bags that we can use to staunch the blood?”
Hazel darted a glance toward her mother. “The towels, Mother. Which trunk are they in?”
Her mother shook her head as though clearing it and then pointed toward the gray steamer trunk nearby. Hazel leapt to her feet and dashed toward the trunk, unhooking the hasps and throwing the lid open wide. Without a thought, she tossed a few household items aside to get to the towels. She found them and immediately returned. Mr. Shelby already had her father’s jacket off and shirt open. The small round wound spurted blood, making her mother sob while she held Father’s hand. Mr. Shelby’s gray eyes met Hazel’s. “Fold the towel in half and come hold pressure on this wound.”
Nodding, Hazel did as she was told. A moment later another man came rushing forward. “I’m a doctor,” he said.
Mr. Shelby took over the holding of the towel as Hazel backed away staring at her red hands. Blood covered both of them. Her father’s blood. A sob rose into her throat and her eyes stung with tears. She peered over at her mother who was visibly sobbing, shoulders drooping and face contorted with sorrow. Immediately, Hazel swallowed down her own feelings and bad thoughts and hurried to her mother’s side, pulling a handkerchief from her pocket and doing her best to wipe as much blood from her hands as possible before she reached her. Then Hazel wrapped her arms around her mother. She’d never seen her mother so broken. In all her life, her mother had been a rock--the one to count on when things were falling apart. Now, it was Mother’s turn to fall to pieces, and Hazel dug down and found strength so she could be there for her mother to lean upon.
And lean upon her, Mother did. The moment Hazel’s arms reached around her mother, Mother crumpled into her, the sobs shaking her whole body as she leaned into Hazel, forcing Hazel to help hold her on her feet. Hazel swallowed back all emotion and tried to encourage her mother. “He says he’s all right, Mother. It looks as though the injury is in his shoulder. If it were a vital wound, he’d struggle to breathe, but he’s talking. Please, Mother, the doctor is here. Everything is going to be all right.”
But no matter what words she had for her mother, Mother could barely calm down. Hazel was the youngest of her sister. She was used to being consoled, not consoling--and especially not consoling her mother. In fact, in all Hazel’s life, she couldn’t remember ever seeing her mother cry. She’d always been stoic in the past. And somehow, the more that her mother fell to pieces, the greater the protective instinct within Hazel grew. She looked around what was left of the crowd in the station with a different eye. Who was it that had shot her father? Was he even the person’s target or had it been a random occurrence? Why would anyone have done such a thing when her father hadn’t even been in town long enough to create an enemy?
These questions and more began spinning through her mind like jumbled notes that made no sense. She wanted to straighten them. To make sense of them. And she wanted to find whoever had done this to her father and mother and bring that man to justice. She peered over at her father, still prone on the platform, but looking calmer for a moment until he let out a cry when the doctor dug into the wound exposed on his shoulder with forceps and pulled out a lead pellet. In Hazel’s arms, her mother flinched at the sound and began crying anew, without looking up. Her mother’s hands clawed at her shoulders as if she gripped Hazel like a drowning person. Hazel was her savior.
At that thought, Hazel set her jaw and met eyes with Mr. Shelby, the Pinkerton Agent. She determined to do exactly as she’d imagined. She’d bring the villain who broke her family like this to justice, and she was certain that Mr. Shelby would be the person to help her do it.
* * *
Sam Shelby had been able to push all thoughts of melancholy away throughout the incident in the train station, but once he delivered the Lockwood family to their home, the heaviness returned even harder. It wasn’t supposed to be a bodyguard job. The day with the Lockwoods was much more eventful than he’d expected. His hands shook as he picked up the cup of tea that Pearl had made for him while he sat in the kitchen. All the thoughts of the lives he’d seen lost came rushing back to him, and he remembered why it was that he’d wanted to settle down into a permanent position and get married while in San Francisco.
“Is everything all right, Mr. Shelby?” Pearl asked, eyeing him from across the kitchen. “Would you like a piece of pie with your tea?”
Then Sam realized that he’d not eaten most of the day. Perhaps that was adding to both his melancholy and the shaking in his hands. He nodded. “Thank you, Pearl.”
Pearl set a large piece of apple pie in front of him, and Sam picked up the fork to tuck in. Although it was both sweet and delicious, Sam could barely taste the flavor. He was much too distraught after all that had happened that day. It was times like this, afterward, when he was alone, that the melancholy took over. When he was in the midst of the situation or assignment, when he had people all around him, he could stave off the sadness that overcame him. Once his plate sat empty, he pushed it away from him and stood, draining the last of his tea. Intending to go back out to the bunkhouse when Marianne came into the kitchen. “Oh, Sam! I was hoping I’d catch you in here. Could you come see Archie in the office? He has an assign
ment for you.”
A frown tugged at Sam’s lip. Another assignment? Already? It wasn’t that he’d expected a period of rest but the day had already gotten the best of what Sam had had to offer. He had fully intended on trying to get his nerves to settle with rest. But instead of voicing any of his concerns, he nodded, turned about and followed Marianne out of the kitchen into the main part of the Agency house. He continued to follow her until they reached her desk, where Marianne went behind it and gestured for Sam to continue on. At least, due to being called upon again, Sam was able to gain control of his facilities. Inside, he felt as though he were falling apart, but outwardly, he was able to stop his hands from shaking. Maybe it was due to the fact he’d not eaten. He couldn’t be sure.
He knocked upon the door before turning the handle and entering in. The moment he did, he was struck by seeing a beautiful woman standing beside Archie at the desk and it took Sam a moment to realize that the woman was Hazel Lockwood. She pierced him with eyes the same color as her name. His heart fluttered in his chest. She was a comely woman but much too young for him, he reminded himself as he entered the room and purposefully turned around to close the door and school his expression. The last thing he needed was for anyone to notice how the young woman affected him. Her gaze was unflinching as she met his.
Archie cleared his throat. “Right, then. Sam Shelby, I believe you met Miss Hazel Lockwood earlier today?”
Sam nodded, his face pulling at the sides as a frown attempted to create itself on his lips. “I did.”
“Her mother has hired us to figure out who it was that shot Mr. Lockwood and why. Miss Hazel Lockwood will be working the case as well to be her mother’s eyes and ears. I’d like you to be the training agent,” Archie said with a nod.
Sam’s heart fluttered in his chest. He swallowed the lump that formed in his throat as he peered toward the young woman once more. He’d be marrying her? She was little more than a child. Her piercing eyes still spoke of innocence of the world. Would it really be possible? “Does this mean that... I mean to say... Will we have to... um?”
With a huffed laugh, Archie shook his head. “This is quite a different circumstance this time. Miss Lockwood can remain with her parents at night since the mission is here in Denver. That means that there is no reputation to protect and there’s no need to be wed before the two of you work on this case.”
Relief washed over Sam. Yes, Miss Lockwood was a handsome young woman, and there were men his age marrying girls as young as fifteen back in San Francisco. But that wasn’t the sort of thing that had interested Sam Shelby. He wanted a woman who was an equal partner with him in the home, in the mind, and emotionally. He wanted a woman, not a girl. His shoulders relaxed as he realized he would not need to be wed in this instance. “Do you not feel that Miss Lockwood is too close to the case? Would she not be working with a preconceived bias? I don’t need a young woman’s emotions getting in the way of the case.”
“I am not an emotional person,” Miss Lockwood said as she raised a brow toward him. “You were there on the train platform today. Did you believe me to be a flighty girl?”
No, he didn’t. She was right. He’d not seen her shed a tear after the initial shock of seeing her father wounded. She didn’t shrink away from the blood or from watching the pellet removed by the doctor when he came. In fact, Sam had watched her comfort her own mother. He shook his head. “Right. Well, will you be too bullheaded or are you willing to bend? Women who are not prone to emotions tend to be stubborn.”
“I will not attempt to say that I am not a stubborn person, but I believe that I’m teachable.”
“And how will you handle working with weapons.”
To answer, she pulled a Derringer pistol from the folds of her dress and lay it across her other palm. “My father determined that none of his daughters shrink under pressure. He taught us all how to clean, load and take care of our pistols. He taught us to shoot and hit our targets. And our mother sewed pockets in our skirts so we could carry the weapon without anyone being the wiser for it.”
With that, she replaced the pistol back into the folds of her skirt. Sam couldn’t help but blink. He was impressed with the young woman’s answers and the way that she did not allow the pressure of his questions to raise a single doubt within her. He nodded. “All right, then. I believe I’ll need to interview you a bit to find out all I can about your father and the situation he was moving into here in Denver. Would you be willing to sit down with me and get started right away?”
“You could use my office for that, if you’d like,” Archie said as he stepped from behind his desk.
Just then, Hazel’s stomach grumbled audibly and everyone turned toward her. Color rushed to her cheeks as her brow furrowed as though she was angry with her body for betraying her.
Sam stifled the chuckle that wanted to rise up. “Actually, I believe we’ll go see what Pearl has cooked up in the kitchen. I’m famished, and it might be better if we both ate.”
Her forehead smoothed as she nodded. “It wouldn’t be an inconvenience?”
“Not at all,” Archie said with a shake of his head. “Pearl always has something ready for the agents, no matter the time of day.”
With that, Sam opened the door and stepped to the side to allow the young woman to pass through first. As she stepped close to him, the soft scent of talcum and rosewater reached his nose. His body shuddered a bit in response. She smelled even more innocently than she looked. He cleared his throat, trying to gain control of himself once more. This wasn’t good. He needed to focus on the task at hand and not let his body dictate how he was going to behave in this situation. After closing Archie’s office door behind him, he led her to the kitchen where Pearl was happy to give them both fresh bread and warm stews. As they ate, Pearl struck up an easygoing conversation with Hazel for a short while which helped give Sam time to digest both his food and the situation. This wasn’t going to be the easiest of tasks, he was certain. But right now he needed to find out what he could from Hazel and then see if they needed to question Mr. Lockwood, himself.
Chapter 8
After the two of them spent a long while talking in the kitchen at the Pinkerton Agency, Hazel began to settle down. She’d been ready for a fight from the beginning, but had thought it would come from other sources. Her mother had encouraged her and told her not to tell her father, so that was one battle she’d not had to face. When she arrived at the agency, she’d expected Mr. Gordon, the head of the agency, to have objections, but he seemed to take her on simply because of her sisters. Mr. Shelby, on the other hand, was an entirely different story. But at least it seemed that he was willing to work with her after she’d proven that she wasn’t a flighty woman swayed easily by emotion.
But the truth was that her emotions were on edge. When her father had been shot, she’d wanted to fall to pieces, cry and scream, the way her mother did, but because of the way that her mother had behaved, it forced Hazel to keep things in check. And she’d wanted to get angry when Mr. Shelby had questioned her abilities, but somehow she’d held back and kept her raw nerves from being exposed too much. And above all of this was the emotion that she was feeling for the handsome Mr. Shelby. His piercing gray eyes were steely and sad. It was a strange combination, and she couldn’t help but feel as though she wanted to dig deeper into his life so that she could find out what caused the sadness. But of course, that was out of character for Hazel. She was much more likely to keep to herself.
Just as they both were beginning to stand, the back door to the kitchen opened and Geoffrey Lee stood there, eyes wide. “Hazel? What are you doing here?”
Heat rushed to her cheeks and she swallowed before answering. “My family just arrived yesterday on the train. Because of an incident, my mother has hired the agency and I’m here to help Mr. Shelby with the case.”
Mr. Shelby looked back and forth between them with an eyebrow raised and lips thinned, but he didn’t say a word.
“A case?�
� Geoffrey asked. “You should have requested me. I would have loved to help your family in this situation.”
The smallest sting of regret pinpricked Hazel’s heart, but she shook her head. “Mr. Shelby already knew about the circumstances surrounding the case. He is truly the best man for the job.”
Geoffrey’s brows raised, but he nodded. “Ah! I understand. Well, if there’s any way that I can be of service, please let me know.” Then he bowed slightly and stepped forward, taking her hands in his. After squeezing them gently, he released them. “It’s lovely to see you, by the way.”
A smile tugged at her lip. “A pleasure to see you again as well.”
After another moment of them standing together in a somewhat awkward way, Mr. Shelby cleared his throat. “All right then. We’d best be on our way. We need to interview the porter and any other witnesses at the station that we can find and see if anyone saw anything.”
Hazel’s heart squeezed in her chest as she winced. “Right. We’d best do that today before people get on with other things.”
“That’s right,” Mr Shelby said as he stepped forward and placed a hand on her lower back as he guided her toward the kitchen door that lead to the main house. “We’ll see you later, Geoffrey.”
“Right. Farewell and I hope that you both do smashingly on your case.”
His good wishes lightened Hazel’s step a bit as they both reached the foyer and headed for the front door. Geoffrey was a good man, but Hazel didn’t know if she would have truly been able to rely upon him in this situation. She saw him as a fun person to befriend, but childish and playful. As she looked up into the steely gray eyes of the man who opened the door for her, she knew one thing for certain. Without question Mr. Shelby felt reliable to her and would be a rock for her to lean upon throughout this whole bad situation.