by Laura Beers
An Agent for Amey
The Pinkerton Matchmaker Series
Laura Beers
An Agent for Amey
The Pinkerton Matchmaker Series Book #67
By:
Laura Beers
Copyright © 2020 by Laura Beers
Cover Art by Virginia McKevitt
Edition License Notes
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Contents
A NOTE TO OUR READERS
THE PINKERTON CODE
THE DENVER TRIBUNE EDITORIALS
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Epilogue
Other published stories from Laura Beers
About the Author
A NOTE TO OUR READERS
Even though this book is a work of fiction, the Pinkerton Agents and their exploits are very real.
Allan Pinkerton, a Scottish immigrant, and Edward Rucker, a Chicago attorney, started the North-Western Police Agency in the early 1850s. It later became the Pinkerton Detective Agency.
Established in the U.S. by Allan Pinkerton in 1855, the Pinkerton National Detective Agency was a private security guard and detective agency. Pinkerton agents were hired as both bodyguards and detectives by corporations and individuals. They were active in stopping strikes, illegal operations, guarding train shipments, and searching for Western outlaws such as the James and Younger gangs.
Pinkerton agents were known to be tough yet honest. For the most part, they followed local and state laws. However, as with most situations, a few were known to be ruthless. Local law didn’t always approve of having an agent in town since they could investigate more fully than the sheriff. Going undercover gave the agents greater leeway for investigations but could also lead to corruption and violence.
As the West became more settled, crime increased, and local authorities were at times overwhelmed. It was not uncommon for Pinkerton agents to be hired to track down the worst of these criminals. Not encumbered by state or local boundaries, the agents followed and pursued their quarry where the clues led them.
The Pinkerton Agency was also one of the first companies to hire women. Kate Warne led the way for the women agents that followed her.
As the case load grew, new offices were established around the country, with the main office in Chicago, Illinois.
We created this series with these heroic men and women in mind. These are works of our imagination and no way reflect the true cases or activities that the Pinkerton Agency may have engaged in.
These are our stories of the men and women that braved danger and love to bring their own brand of justice.
THE PINKERTON CODE
Allan Pinkerton's agents were required to comply with a specific code of conduct while working for the Pinkerton Detective Agency.
According to the agency's records, agents were to have no addiction to "drinking, smoking, card playing, low dives or slang".
Additionally, a Pinkerton agent …
Could not accept bribes
May never compromise with criminals
Should willingly partner with local law enforcement
Must refuse divorce cases or those initiating scandal
Would be expected to turn down reward money
Cannot raise fees without client’s prior knowledge
Should keep clients appraised on an on-going basis
THE DENVER TRIBUNE EDITORIALS
Sat. April 22, 1871
Female Agents to join National Detective Agency.
Help Wanted: female agents to join the National Pinkerton Detective Agency
Seven years ago, the National Pinkerton Detective Agency moved into the new office location at 427 Chain Bridge Road, Denver, Colorado Territory. Since then stories have swirled of brave men solving crimes and fighting for justice.
But a new time has evolved, and the agency is now seeking able-bodied women to join the ranks of private investigations.
We need daring women who seek adventure and are of sound mind and body. You will help the criminal elements answer for their crimes and secure safety for their victims.
You will train with an existing agent, and after your first case, you will earn the rank of private detective. Paid training, transportation, uniforms, and accommodations will be provided. You will become a part of a noble profession and pave the way into the future.
This editorial has been placed in newspapers throughout the nation, so the quickest responses are appreciated.
Please send inquiries and a list of skills to Mr. A. Gordon at the above noted address.
Ed.
1
Ohio, 1873
Agent Amey Barney raced her horse toward the town of Copper Springs, hoping that she was not too late. After all, she had a wedding to stop.
She’d been searching for this fugitive for the past two years, and she’d finally received her first big break in the case. She had discovered a wedding announcement in the newspaper, listing Billy Thornton as the groom. Through her undercover work as a Pinkerton agent, she was able to ascertain that Billy Thornton was a known alias of Billy Joe Campbell.
Billy Joe Campbell was wanted for a bank robbery in her hometown of Tucson in the Arizona territory. He had only escaped with a few hundred dollars from the vault, but he’d made the mistake of killing the bank employee who was working that day.
Her brother.
Billy Joe Campbell had killed her brother, Mark, in cold blood, and she was determined to see him hang for his crimes. Unfortunately, Billy Joe had been elusive and had gone into hiding immediately after the bank robbery. No tips had come into the Pinkerton Detective Agency regarding his whereabouts, and Mr. Hopkins had begun to assign her other cases.
Still, she had never stopped looking for her brother’s killer. At every opportunity, she would scour the newspapers looking for any sign of him. She had correctly assumed that he would grow complacent over time. It had been two years since he’d last been seen, but now she was going to stop this wedding, arrest the groom, and watch him hang.
The town of Copper Springs came into view. It was a small town, with only a few hundred people, but it was rapidly growing since gold had been found in the surrounding foothills.
Amey didn’t slow her horse’s gait as she rode through the main part of town, leaving a cloud of dust behind her. She knew it was inconsiderate to ride through town at a full gallop, but frankly, she didn’t care. She had a suspect to catch. More than a few men and women glanced her way, the displeasure evident on their features.
A small, whitewashed church sat on the outskirts of town, and she noticed that the doors were already closed. The wedding ceremony must have already started.
Drat!
She had hoped to arrive before the ceremony, but it couldn’t have been helped. She had been traveling for nearly two days, stopping only to let her gelding rest. Her horse could be quite cantankerous when he didn’t get enough rest.
Reining in her horse as she reached the front of the church, she dismounted and didn’t even bother to secure her mount as she raced toward the doors. She threw them open, making a loud
banging noise when they hit the walls, her eyes scanning the crowded church.
Everyone turned around to face her, but she was only focused on the man and woman in front. The blonde bride was dressed in a simple, calico dress, holding a bouquet of flowers in her hand. The groom was dressed in a plain, brown suit.
A short man with thinning black hair stepped to the side of the couple and demanded, “What is the meaning of this?”
“I have an arrest warrant for Billy Thornton,” she announced to the congregation.
Immediately, the townsfolk turned their heads back toward Billy with stunned looks.
The groom, however, looked bemused. “Whatever for?”
“Bank robbery and murder,” she replied.
The color drained from Billy’s weathered face. “There has to be some type of mistake,” he insisted. “I haven’t killed anybody.”
“But you admit to the bank robbery?” she pressed.
“No, no, no….” he stammered. “I could never, would never, rob a bank.”
Walking down the aisle, Amey placed her hand on the revolver holstered around her hips. “There is no mistake,” she replied. “I’ve been searching for you for more than two years.”
“Lady,” Billy started, “there has to be some mistake.”
Coming to a stop near the couple, she stated, “There is no mistake. You will finally pay for your crimes.”
The bride stared at the groom with a bewildered expression. “Are you an outlaw, Billy?”
“No, of course not,” he replied, reaching for her.
She stepped back, away from his touch. “Did you truly find gold in the mountains, or did you rob a bank to get the money to buy your land?”
Billy ran a hand through his hair, distress clearly on his features. “How can you even ask me that question, Polly?”
“I thought I knew you,” Polly whispered as tears filled her eyes.
“You do know me,” he asserted. “I am not the man that she thinks I am.”
A tall man, wearing a black hat, stood up from one of the pews and exclaimed, “I told you not to marry him, Polly. He’s a no-good criminal.”
“I am not!” Billy shouted. “I’m not guilty of these crimes.”
The man with thinning hair spoke up. “I believe Billy,” he said. “He’s a good, decent man.”
A woman rose from the front and rushed over to Polly. “You need to step away from him, dear,” she urged. “He’s a wanted man.”
Billy clenched his jaw. “How can you say that, Mrs. Wilde?” he asked. “I would never hurt your daughter.”
“I bet you said the same thing to the man you killed!” someone shouted from the congregation.
Removing the revolver from her gun belt, Amey held it out in front of her. “Why don’t we take a walk down to the sheriff’s office and talk about this?”
“This is ridiculous!” Billy exclaimed, tossing his arms in the air. “I’m not the man you’re looking for.”
“If that’s the case, then you have nothing to worry about,” Amey insisted.
A stern voice came from the doorway. “Put your revolver down on the ground,” a man ordered, followed by the sound of a cocking gun. “We have a strict no-guns policy in the town of Copper Springs.”
Amey slowly crouched down and placed her revolver onto the floor, all while maintaining a steady gaze on Billy. She wasn’t about to take a chance that he might draw a weapon.
“Now put your hands up and turn around so I can look at you,” the man ordered.
Spinning on her heel, she saw a man with a head full of black hair. He had a star pinned to his black jacket that read ‘Sheriff’. He was also pointing a revolver at her chest.
“My name is Amey Barney, and I am a Pinkerton Agent,” she announced, keeping her hands up in front of her.
The lawman swore under his breath. “What is a blasted Pink doing in my town?”
“I’m here to arrest Billy Thornton,” she answered.
The sheriff lowered his gun. “For what?”
“Bank robbery and murder.”
His brow shot up. “You got the wrong man.”
“I don’t think so,” she replied. “I’ve been tracking this man for two years.”
The sheriff holstered his revolver into the gun belt attached around his hips. “What proof do you have?”
Reaching into the pocket of her trousers, she pulled out two pieces of paper. “This is a wanted poster for Billy Joe Campbell, and this is the wedding announcement for Billy Thornton,” she said, holding them up. “The likeness between Billy Joe Campbell and Billy Thornton is uncanny. Furthermore, Billy Thornton is a known alias for Billy Joe Campbell.”
“Let me take a look at those,” the sheriff demanded, holding out his hand.
Amey walked over and handed the papers to the lawman.
A frown appeared on the sheriff’s brow. “I must admit that the sketches bear a striking resemblance to one another, but I’m afraid you’re wrong.”
“Pardon?”
“You might want to do a little more detective work before you come in, interrupt a wedding ceremony, and discredit a man’s good name,” the sheriff chastised.
“I assure you that this man is Billy Joe Campbell,” she insisted, pointing at the groom.
“No, ma’am,” the sheriff said. “You’re wrong. Billy Thornton was born and raised in Copper Springs, and he has never left town for longer than a few days.”
“Never?” she asked.
“That’s true,” Billy stated. “I’m more of a homebody.”
“I should arrest you for disorderly conduct,” the sheriff said gruffly as he stepped closer to her. “You can’t just wander into a town and make false allegations.”
“But… I…” she stammered, unsure of what to say.
“I believe you owe Billy Thornton and the whole congregation an apology, agent,” the sheriff remarked.
Pressing her lips together, she turned around and met Billy’s gaze. “I apologize for accusing you of bank robbery and murder.”
“And?” the sheriff pressed.
She swallowed slowly. “And for ruining your wedding.”
“Now, pick up your weapon and leave my town, Pink,” the lawman growled, “and never come back.”
Amey reached down, picked up her revolver and holstered it. “I’m sorry,” she murmured again to no one in particular.
The congregation was silent as she walked back down the main aisle of the church and out the doors. When she stepped outside and approached her brown gelding, he dropped down to the ground and didn’t move.
The sheriff’s voice came from behind her. “It appears that your horse is dead.”
“No, he’s alive,” she sighed. “He just pretends to be dead when he doesn’t want to be ridden.”
“But his tongue is hanging out of his mouth,” the sheriff pointed out.
“Just give him a moment.”
She reached down and tugged on the reins, but nothing happened. She crouched down next to her horse’s ear and whispered, “Please get up, Jasper. I really need you to cooperate right now.”
The horse’s ears twitched back, but still he did not rise.
“Get up,” she pleaded again.
Laughter came from behind her, and she turned to see several people from the congregation standing out front and watching her converse with her mount.
“Is she talking to a dead horse?” a woman whispered to another.
Bringing her attention back to the stubborn animal in front of her, she said, “I promise I won’t ride you out of town if you get up right now.”
Jasper’s eyes opened, and he started to rise.
“Well, I’ll be,” the sheriff said, chuckling. “It appears that Pinkerton Agents can bring horses back from the dead.”
Ignoring the snickering from the men and women, Amey took the reins and started walking her horse out of town.
Never had she been more mortified than she was at this moment.
>
With a feeling of great trepidation, Amey Barney walked down the new wooden sidewalk in Chicago as she headed toward the Pinkerton Detective Agency. She was amazed with how few reminders there were of the great fire just two years before.
It had been nearly a week since her embarrassing fiasco in Copper Springs, and she was dreading her upcoming meeting with Mr. Hopkins, the man who ran the agency when Mr. Pinkerton was on assignment. She had no doubt that he would be furious about her actions, and she knew that their conversation would be most unpleasant.
Would he fire her for the scene she caused in Copper Springs? She truly hoped not. Being a Pinkerton agent was her whole identity. Besides, she had solved more cases than she had botched. That had to count for something.
She was now dressed in a green flounced skirt and matching basque bodice, feeling deucedly uncomfortable. She would much rather wear her trousers, a shirtwaist, and her gun belt strapped around her hips, but she was well aware that she couldn’t parade around in that outfit all the time. It always caused unwanted attention, especially in a big city.
She hurried up the steps of the Pinkerton Detective Agency building. As she opened the door, she was immediately greeted by the sweet, aging secretary.
“Morning, Agent Barney,” Mrs. Reeves said from behind her desk. “Mr. Hopkins will be with you in a moment.”
“What is his temperament like today?” she asked, stepping closer to the desk.
Mrs. Reeves placed a hand up next to her mouth and answered in a low voice, “He is in a foul mood.”