An Agent for Frances

by Marie Higgins

  “But Vincent –”

  “Frances.” His voice became stern. “Don’t you understand what I’m saying? I’ve fallen in love with you, and I don’t want anything to happen to you.” He inhaled an unsteady breath. “It was a difficult time for me when Jessica died. I don’t want to live through that with you. So, don’t argue with me about this.”

  Her heart melted, and at the same time, wrenched with pain as she witnessed the agony in his gaze. “Vincent, I’m in love with you, too.”

  His eyes watered. “Then please don’t ask me to watch you die, because that’s something I cannot do.” He paused briefly. “When Hardin or Jenkins returns, we’re going to tell them that Shipp is in your house and you had cared for him right after the accident. You’ll also add that Jeremy is your brother.”

  Frances’ eyes burned with unshed tears. She wanted to go along with Vincent’s plan, but she didn’t want to leave him. Would the fools holding them hostage know that by letting her go she would try anything to get her fiancé back?

  She gave a hesitant nod before leaning against him again. “All right. I’ll do that.”

  “That’s my girl.” He kissed her forehead.

  The day passed quickly, and she was grateful that they were fed while waiting for Jenkins and Hardin to return. One of the women in the camp also came and took Frances away from the camp so that she could tend to her womanly needs. One of the men did the same for Vincent.

  But sitting on the hard ground was very uncomfortable, and the longer the hours passed, the worse it became. She and Vincent carried on a few conversations. She bade him to tell her about his dead wife. He complied, but he didn’t go into details. But he told her about some of the cases he had done as a Pinkerton Agent. At least she wasn’t completely bored.

  As darkness grew across the land, the people in the camp became quiet. Frances was tired, but since she’d been sleeping off and on throughout the day, she wasn’t ready to sleep right now. In fact, now that the others were going to sleep, that meant she and Vincent wouldn’t be watched as closely.

  She knew there was a watchman outside their tent because she’d heard the others talking to him from time to time. However, he was only one guy. Once the others were asleep, Vince would be able to use his gun... or knock the man over the head with something to make him lose consciousness. Of course, his hands would have to be free in order to do that.

  A memory popped into her head from when she was a young girl. Jeremy had tied her hands together – again – and she was determined not to wait for someone to rescue her. She had struggled and her fingers ached and received rope burns, but eventually, she was able to untie herself.

  Frances grinned. What was she waiting for? Now was a good time to give it a try and see if she could recall how to untie herself.

  Vincent had been silent for a while, and he hadn’t moved much, either. She suspected he had fallen asleep. That was all right. It might take some time to get these ropes off her wrists, anyway.

  As she concentrated on the ropes, she listened for sounds of anyone coming. Thankfully, the night was calm. She couldn’t hear that many crickets, either. But she worked diligently at trying to loosen the ropes. Unfortunately, when Jenkins tied them up, he wasn’t lax in his efforts.

  She shifted her body, trying to slide her legs under her. A sharp pain pierced her leg inside of her boot. My knife! How could she have forgotten that was there? She was pretty skilled with a knife, and now was a good time to bring out that talent.

  It was easier to pull out her knife from her boot than pull on the ratted rope that scuffed her fingers. As she moved it between her skin and the rope, she pricked her skin with the tip. Biting back the hurt, she continued to get the knife in place. Slowly, she moved the blade back and forth on the rope, stopping every few minutes to listen. Thankfully, the night was still peaceful. She prayed it continued.

  Within minutes, the ropes loosened slightly which made her move the blade faster. Finally, the ropes fell from her hands. It was all she could do not to shout with relief. But the sudden movement had her knocking against Vincent.

  He jumped and his head snapped around. The make-shift tent had grown darker and only a small amount of light came through from the moon, but she could still see that his eyes were still slightly swollen from sleep.

  “Shhh...” she told him, pulling out her hands for him to see that she was loose – and that she had a knife.

  His eyes widened. “Where did you get the knife?”

  She grinned. “I’ve been carrying one in my boot since returning to Bonham.”

  “You are amazing.”

  She moved toward his hands tied in back of him and went to work on cutting the ropes. “While I’m doing this, you need to figure out a plan on how we can escape.”

  “Yes. We don’t want to awake our guard dog out front.”

  “Or any other guard dogs who might be nearby.”

  It didn’t take long to cut Vincent’s ropes, and soon they also cut the ropes at their ankles. Immediately, he pulled Frances into his arms. She hugged him, not wanting to let him go, but knowing their adventure wasn’t over yet.

  As he pulled away, he gave her a quick kiss on the lips. “From here on out we must be very quiet.”

  She nodded.

  He took her knife and crawled to the back of the tent. He ran the blade underneath the tent, cutting away the ropes that held it to the ground. Slowly, he lifted the end, until they had enough room to slide out.

  Motioning his head toward the opening, he let her know to go first. She took her knife from him first and scooted on her belly, using her arms to pull and her feet to push. She moved inch by inch, stopping every second or two to listen for signs that they’d been discovered sneaking out. When she heard nothing, she continued to crawl out.

  Once outside the tent, she held up the material so that Vincent could climb out. He took a little longer than she had, only because he was a much larger man.

  In the tents nearby, she heard a lot of snoring. She silently thanked the Almighty that they hadn’t woken anyone up... yet.

  They both stood slowly. She slipped her knife into the pocket of his coat. He took her hand and motioned his head toward the section of the camp where the horses had been corralled.

  Taking careful steps, they moved toward the horses. Just as they’d done so far, they paused every few minutes and listened. When they finally reached the horses, Frances wanted to expel another relieved sigh, but she didn’t dare. It was still too soon.

  Vincent pulled her into his arms and bent his head until his mouth brushed her ear. She shivered from the warmth.

  “Climb on my horse and ride back to town.”

  She shook her head and pulled away slightly. “I’m not going without you.” She sighed. “Besides, who will I find to help? Do you have anyone in Bonham that would help us?”

  He frowned. “No.”

  “Then I should stay with you, right?”

  “We’ll ride together. I’ll have to contact the head office to see when the others will be here to help me, so we might have to hide out until they come.”

  She clasped his hands. “As long as we are together, we can accomplish anything.”

  “Is it any wonder I fell in love with you?”

  Her heart skipped a beat. Her love for him grew every minute she was with him.

  Keeping her hand in his, he led them closer to the horses. She held her breath as he reached for the gate and opened it. Luck had been on their side so far this escape.

  “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

  The man’s voice from behind Frances grated on her already frayed nerves... And the clicking of the pistol didn’t help matters, either. Vincent moved in front of her protectively, but for some reason, she felt they were in worse trouble now than they’d been in earlier.

  TEN

  FEAR CONSUMED FRANCES as she clutched the back of Vincent’s coat. Hesitantly, she peeked over his shoulder to see who had ca
ught them. Tom Jenkins stood, pointing his gun toward Vincent who held up his hands in surrender.

  Tears filled her eyes, and she didn’t have the strength to blink them away. She and Vincent had gotten this far during their escape. Why had their luck run out now?

  “Jenkins,” Vincent said in a steady voice. “You must realize we are innocent in all of this. Whatever is going on in your little camp doesn’t concern us... and frankly, my fiancée and I would just like to get married and start our own lives.”

  The portly man motioned his gun away from the corral. “Start walking.”

  Vincent grasped Frances’ arm, hooking it with his, as he led the way back toward the tent. Her legs shook and she prayed she had the strength to keep going. But she must. She didn’t want Vincent to think she wasn’t the strong women he’d fallen in love with.

  He gently gave her arm a reassuring squeeze before slipping his hand into the pocket of his coat. A different rhythm took over her heart, and she held her breath.

  Quick as lightning, Vincent whipped out his gun and turned to face their opponent, pushing Frances behind him.

  “Now you drop your gun,” Vincent said in a commanding, yet quiet voice.

  Jenkins stared at Vincent’s gun and shook his head. “Apparently, Hardin didn’t check you for weapons as well as he should have.”

  Frances dipped her hand into his pocket and grasped her knife, bringing it out as she moved closer to Jenkins. “If the bullet from my fiancé’s gun won’t get you, then I’ll use my knife to cut you up in pieces.”

  The other man’s eyes widened. “How very interesting.” He grinned. “I’m relieved to see you two are prepared.” He holstered his gun and reached forth his right hand. “Agent Brooks, I think we were not properly introduced. I’m Tom Jenkins, a former Pinkerton Agent under the direction of Archie Gordon.”

  Frances didn’t know whose shocked gasp rang louder through the night air, hers or Vincent’s.

  Slowly, Vincent shook his head. “I don’t know whether to believe you since you’re in a gang of southern rebels wanting to start an uproar between the states. Not only that, you’re friends with a wanted outlaw, Wesley Hardin.”

  Tom withdrew his hand and nodded. “I see your hesitation to believe, so I must prove it to you somehow.” He scratched his chin. “Hardin and I rode into town to send the telegraph to the Pinkerton Agency. At the end of the telegraph, I wrote P.I.T.” He arched an eyebrow. “Does that mean anything to you?”

  She glanced up at Vincent. In the shadows underneath the tree where they stood, she couldn’t see his expression very well.

  “It means,” Vincent said, “Pinkerton in trouble.”

  “Exactly. Now, would I have written the code that only Pinkerton agents know about if I wasn’t trying to help?”

  “Why are you trying to help?” Vincent asked warily.

  Tom glanced around them before taking a step closer. “Because I don’t agree with their cause. I lost my brother and father in the war, and I don’t want another useless war. I joined this group in order to secretly thwart their plans before they start another war.” He paused, folding his arms. “I assume you were in town when the explosion went off at the bank.”

  Both she and Vincent nodded.

  “I’d been in charge of the detonator. The dynamite had been hidden in the cellar underneath the bank. The explosives were supposed to be used to blow up ten banks in Texas so that the rebels could get enough money to buy more guns and ammunition. Most of Shipp’s men had transferred the money from the bank to the wagons that were located out back.”

  Vincent nodded. “Yes, I realized the wagons had something to do with it.”

  “The explosion had been scheduled for later in the evening after the bank had closed. Shipp would make everyone believe that he’d been robbed. Then we’d move to another bank and continue Shipp’s plan.” Tom shook his head. “I couldn’t have that happen, which is why the explosion happened when it did.”

  Vincent’s expression hardened. “Do you realize,” he whispered harshly, “that your careless thinking had injured a lot of innocent people and even killed a few?”

  “Indeed, I knew that would probably happen. But tell me, Agent Brooks, which is better – for two people to die to help stop a war, or for many people to die while fighting the war?”

  It was difficult for Frances to think about it that way, but Tom was right. It reminded her of some of the Bible stories she’d read. Apparently, Tom’s method was done all through history. People make sacrifices one way or another.

  “I suppose,” Tom continued, “that once we have these rebels caught and their plans foiled, if the Pinkerton agents want to arrest me for what I’ve done, then I’ll deal with that punishment when it happens. However, I’d rather concentrate on what’s happening right now, if you don’t mind.”

  Vincent nodded. “Yes, we need to deal with the situation now.” He paused and tilted his head. “Jenkins, what are your plans for me and my fiancée?”

  Tom smirked. “Is Miss Carlton really your fiancée?”

  Anger shot through Frances and she huffed, folding her arms across her chest, ready to verbally put him in his place. But Vincent stepped ahead of her, looking the other man in the eyes.

  “Yes. We plan to be married as soon as this mess has been taken care of.”

  A sigh of happiness escaped her mouth as tears formed in her eyes. She loved this man more every minute. It pleased her to know that he was looking forward to marrying her – not because the town’s gossipmonger caught them kissing, but because he really wanted to be her husband.

  The smirk left Tom’s face. “Then we’ll need to protect her.”

  Vincent slipped an arm around her waist. “That’s my plan. I’ll not let anyone touch her.”

  If her heart kept melting like this, she’s become nothing but a puddle on the dirt. “Mr. Jenkins? Are you going to let us go?”

  The flabby man scratched his cheek. “As much as I want you away from there, we need the Pinkerton agents to come and rescue you. How else are we going to stop these rebels otherwise?”

  Vincent slowly moved his gaze between her and Tom. She didn’t dare disturb him, because she knew how his mind worked. She was confident that he would think of something brilliant any moment now.

  THERE WERE SO MANY things weighing on Vince’s mind, but the most important factor was keeping Frances safe. Staying in this camp, he took the chance of being outnumbered. But he understood why Jenkins wanted him to stay. In order to do both, Vince needed to take out the odds... Most of the men were asleep, so it might be easy, especially with Frances and Jenkins on his side.

  “Jenkins,” Vince kept his voice low. “How much rope do you have?”

  The other man arched an eyebrow. “How much do you need?”

  “I’m thinking of tying up some of these rebels while they are asleep. Then they won’t be a threat.”

  “What about Hardin?”

  “Where is his tent?” Vince asked.

  “He’s not here. He usually rides out at night and returns in the morning.”

  Vince grinned. “Good, then we still have several hours to put our plan into place.”

  Tom Jenkins tapped his fingers against his forearm as he stared at Vince. Silence grew between them for several long moments until the man finally nodded.

  “I’ll gather all the rope I can find. Thankfully, a lot of these men take their whiskey to bed with them. I’m sure they’ll be passed out cold.”

  Vince sighed with relief. At least something was going his way. For now, anyway.

  “Frances and I will remain here under the shaded tree and wait for your return.”

  “What happens if Willy notices you’re not in the tent?”

  Frances chuckled. “Willy was our guard? Well, he’s not very good at it. I think he fell asleep.”

  Tom nodded. “I’m sure he’d been drinking, too.” He turned and took a step, and then stopped. “Whatever you do, don’t use y
our gun. That will wake everyone up and then your plan will be ruined.”

  “Don’t worry,” Vince said. “I don’t plan on making any noise at all.”

  When Jenkins hurried away, Vince gathered Frances in his arms. She relaxed against him, resting her head on his chest. He kissed the top of her head. “Everything is going to be all right now.”

  “How can you be sure?”

  “Because I know how to handle intoxicated men.” He chuckled.

  “What if their wives try to put up a fight?”

  “My darling Frances.” He tipped her chin up and when her mouth was in view, he took advantage of the moment and kissed her. As much as he wanted a passionate kiss, he’d save that for later. “I’m not sure if you took notice of exactly how many women were here at the camp, but I did. I saw six women and eight children. The rest are men, and with all the men tied up, I’m sure the women will be compliant.”

  She reached her hand to his face and stroked his cheek. “Vincent, you forgot about one very important person.”

  “No.” He turned his head slightly and kissed her palm. “I think about you constantly.”

  “Oh, you are an incredibly loving man. I wasn’t talking about me. I was referring to the wanted outlaw. He’s a quick draw. I witnessed it when we got into camp.”

  “Very true. He’s good. But... so am I.”

  Her hand dropped to his chest. “Vincent Brooks, now is not the time to be cocky.”

  He laughed and brushed a kiss across her mouth again. “Would you believe me if I told you that I’m not being cocky? I’m really a quick draw. With the other men tied up, I’m sure I can take on Hardin.”

  “But what if you can’t? What if –”

  He pressed his mouth against her again this time, making the kiss last longer. A small moan rattled through her throat as her body relaxed in his arms. “Trust me,” he muttered against her mouth.

  The way she kissed him back made him wonder if her mind was even on their most dangerous situation. Of course, his mind was slowly moving away from that and staying on their kiss.