An Agent for Claudette (The Pinkerton Matchmaker Book 4)

by Christine Sterling

  “Oh, these are heavenly. I don’t think that Martha back home could have made biscuits this light.”

  Mrs. Hawthorne beamed under the praise. “Would you like breakfast? I’m making eggs, bacon and we have some fresh cheddar from the market yesterday. It is too early for fresh produce, but I did get some lovely greens for a salad this evening.”

  “Eggs sound lovely.” Claudette placed the rest of her biscuit on a plate at the table and went to get a cup of coffee. She hated the strong brew, much preferring tea, but she thought she might need the kick in the jolt the coffee would provide.

  “You look like a soft-boiled egg girl.”

  “Yes, please. It has been nearly a week since I’ve had eggs. It is the one thing I miss from back home. That and the desserts.”

  Mrs. Hawthorne nodded and headed back to the kitchen. “I can always tell things about someone from the way they like their eggs. Now I don’t go trusting those that want their eggs poached or some fancy nonsense like that. Seems something off about boiling a whole egg in water without the shell, but soft-boiled, sign of a true lady.”

  The woman disappeared and returned shortly with three eggs on a plate, a few pieces of bacon, and a wedge of cheese. Claudette thanked her and went to the task of breaking the top portion of the shell to get to the gooey goodness inside. She was on her second egg when another woman entered the room and moved to sit at the table next to Claudette.

  “Good morning,” Claudette said. The woman looked at her but didn’t respond.

  “I’ll have two eggs poached. Please make sure the yolks are cooked firm,” the woman said to Mrs. Hawthorne. Claudette gave a little laugh.

  “What’s so funny?” the woman asked. Claudette made eye contact with Mrs. Hawthorne who was grinning.

  “Nothing. I just had a thought but now it’s gone.” She took another bite of her egg, so she wouldn’t have to talk. Several other ladies started wandering in and taking seats in the small dining room, each murmuring a quiet good morning before sitting down.

  Mrs. Hawthorne came back in to refill the milk jug and take breakfast orders before scurrying out of the room. The ladies sipped their coffee and made small talk while waiting for breakfast.

  Claudette learned that two of them were also there to interview at the Pinkerton Agency. Jacqueline, a wide-eyed young woman from a small town in California that Claudette had never heard of, and Olive, a matronly woman who reminded Claudette of her grandmother. They ordered soft boiled eggs as well.

  She finished her breakfast and laid her spoon aside. “That was divine, Mrs. Hawthorne. If you ladies will excuse me, I am going to go get changed for church.”

  Jacqueline piped up when she mentioned church. “Oh, I’ll go with you. Come get me before you leave.”

  Claudette nodded and ran upstairs to change in time to find the church that Mrs. Hawthorne pointed out to her the day prior.

  Bronco enjoyed walking Pearl home. He tended to do it more than the other agents just because he really enjoyed the walk through the park and Pearl was good company. She had a quiet demeanor, but if something riled her, she could rival Marianne!

  “You’re awful quiet this evening, Bronco. That is a change from your normal demeanor. Haven’t had a good knife fight with Archie lately?”

  Bronco threw back his head and laughed at Pearl’s question. “Not lately. With all the preparations for this week I can barely get in to see him.”

  “There is a lot going on. I swear, Marianne barely has time to breathe, she is running around like a mad woman.”

  “Explains why she is short when we hand in our reports.”

  “I’ll be glad when this first round of women come through and are gone. There have been women showing up early! Can you image?”

  “First round?” Bronco was surprised. He thought this was a one and done experience.

  Pearl twisted the string for her reticule in her hands. “Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything.”

  “No, I was just curious.”

  “Well, if it goes well, then there was talk of having another go at matching people up.”

  “Makes sense.” They continued through the park in silence for a few minutes. Finally, Pearl broke the pause.

  “What is your opinion about all this?” she asked.

  Bronco thought about it for a moment. He wondered how much he should say before he responded. “I think it is excellent that the agency is opening doors for women agents. I’m not so sure about this whole marriage part of it. I understand it, but I have my reservations. I believe marriage is for life, not just to solve a case.”

  “But don’t you have the option of getting it annulled? I mean, it is just to protect the lady’s reputation while out in the field.”

  “I know, but it doesn’t feel right to me. I know the other agents feel differently, but if I’m going to get married, I really want to pick my own bride and make it for a lifetime.”

  “I never thought you wanted to get married. You seem like… I don’t know? A perpetual bachelor maybe.”

  “It is probably because I’ve not found the right woman. It might be time for me to settle down.”

  “Well then ask God for the right woman to be brought into your life.”

  “I’ve prayed. Unfortunately, I’ve not heard anything.”

  “Father Rollins says, when we don’t hear anything that it is time to be still. I realize there is nothing still about you, Bronco, but you might need to listen more.”

  They were nearing the end of the park when Bronco looked up. He caught a glimpse of a woman in the window looking down at the park. Before he could take in her features, she disappeared behind the curtain. He knew that building was the Hawthorne Boarding House for Women. What if she was one of the women coming to interview on Monday.

  “You’ve not heard a word I’ve said,” Pearl gently chastised him.

  “I’m sorry, my mind was drifting.”

  “Hmmm,” she said. “Oh look, it is Miss Delia Grayson.”

  Bronco inwardly groaned. Miss Grayson was nice enough, but she had an air of desperation around her that made him cringe. She was definitely on the prowl for a husband and made no bones that Bronco was in her pool of options.

  “Good evening, Miss Grayson,” Pearl greeted Delia as she approached.

  “Miss Bolton. Mr. Wauneka, lovely to see you again.” She batted her eyelashes at him. Each word dripped off her tongue like sugar. “It has been too long since you had tea in the garden with Mama and me.” Bronco didn’t like sugar.

  “That’s what happens in winter, Delia. We can’t have tea in the garden.”

  “Please do stop by soon, I know Mama would love to see you again. She so adores you visiting.”

  “I’ll be travelling for business soon, so I can’t stop by. However, please give my regards to your mother.”

  Delia looked disappointed. She pouted her lip and ran a finger down Bronco’s arm. “When you get back you must promise to stop by. I swear, I have so many suitors, but I will make time for you.”

  Bronco saw Pearl roll her eyes and he tried to stifle a laugh. “I will see what I can do. No promises though.”

  Delia removed her finger. “Fair enough. I must get going.” She started towards the park. “Remember! Stop by for Mama’s sake.”

  When she was out of earshot Pearl burst into giggles. “Well, Mr. Wauneka, there is an option for you. She looks ready to marry.”

  “Uhm. No.” he laughed. “I know the right woman is out there for me.”

  “Why don’t you go to church tomorrow? If you said you weren’t hearing God’s voice, maybe you’ll hear it in his house.” She climbed the stairs leading up to her brownstone. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Bronco. Thank you for walking me home.”

  “My pleasure, Miss Bolton.”

  He thought about what Pearl said on the way home. Maybe he needed to have another conversation with God.

  Bronco sat in the back of the church. He wasn’t planning on attending, b
ut after Pearl suggested it when he walked her home the previous night, he thought it might be better if he talked to God in His house. When he was growing up in northern New York he remembered the Catholic missionaries that visited with the tribal elders. It was his first introduction to the white man’s Great Spirit in the sky.

  The missionaries held services just outside the camps and Bronco, along with his brothers and sister would attend. As he got older and moved with the vaudeville troupe, opportunities to attend services were few and far between, but he kept a worn bible under his pillow to read every evening. It wasn’t something he shared with his fellow agents; he preferred to keep it between himself and God. Not that they would judge him, he just wasn’t one for sharing too much.

  The services were about to start when his eye caught her. She walked in like a queen attending court. She was dressed in a long royal blue skirt and blue jacket. Her dark hair was high on her head with ringlets falling around her face. Porcelain skin with a slight tan, a pert nose, and plump lips the colors of the berries back home. Bronco felt like he had been poleaxed.

  He heard her say good morning to the woman sitting next to her and the melodious sound of her voice rang in his ears. It was as if a thousand angels were singing to him. His palms were starting to sweat, so he wiped them on his pants. Taking out a handkerchief, he dabbed it along his brow hoping to alleviate some of the discomfort.

  She turned and looked towards the back of the church where the bishops were making their way down the center aisle. She was possibly the most beautiful woman he had ever seen in all of his 33 years.

  Look this way, he silently pleaded. Please look this way.

  She must have heard him because her eyes met his, flying open in surprise and her mouth formed an O. She stopped singing as she stared at him for a moment. Sapphire. Her eyes were sapphire. Blue just became his favorite color. The young lady sitting next to her nudged her with her elbow and she turned to face forward.

  At that moment, Bronco knew exactly what Victoria was talking about. He just fell in love at first sight. That woman, he thought, will become my wife.

  Chapter 4

  Deep brown. His eyes were deep brown. Jacqueline gave her a nudge, breaking her attention on the man. She turned and accepted the offered hymnal, sharing it with her new friend. She didn’t have a clue where they were or what they were singing. All thoughts went out of her head, apart from the dark stranger at the back of the church. She recognized him as the man in the park yesterday but seeing him from the window did no justice to her imagination.

  He was taller than she imagined, possibly of Indian heritage, and he was just so … large… everywhere. She could see his muscles bulging underneath his suit jacket and there were cords on either side of his neck. When she finally met his eyes, he gave her a big grin and even winked! Imagine that, winking in church!

  Claudette tried to keep her breathing under control.

  When the services ended, and the congregation was dismissed, Claudette looked for the man, but couldn’t find him. She and Jacqueline made their way to the devotional altar. She knelt on one of the plush kneelers and placed a few coins in the box. Lighting a candle, she bowed her head in prayer.

  “Father God, I ask you to bless my journey this week.

  Please put the right people in front me of at the right time.

  Allow me to find friendship, hope and possibly love on this journey.

  You know your will for my life, if it isn’t the same as mine, I’m good with that.

  I will follow you.”

  She felt the cushion next to her move and she scooted over to allow room for the next person praying. The smell of incense and leather met her, and she felt comforted and protected at the same time. She continued her prayer as she watched a tanned hand reach to put a few coins in the box and light a candle. She shut her eyes tight, willing the person to move.

  A soft prayer reached her ears, but she could only make out a few words. Forgiveness, training, wife, plan and love. She heard a soft amen and said the same.

  The man next to her stood up. Claudette tried to stand, but the heel of her boot was caught in her dress. She rocked backwards and right into two strong hands that pushed her back up to a steady position. He reached down and removed the heel from the hem of her garment, letting it drop once it was free.

  Lifting her hand to her throat, she looked at the same man that winked at her earlier, “Th-thank you.”

  A grin appeared on his face, showcasing white teeth that stood out against his tanned skin. “You are more than welcome, ma’am.” He moved to the side, extending his arm so she could pass.

  She left the church after saying her goodbyes to the priests at the door and walked down the steps to the sidewalk. Jacqueline was nowhere in sight. She mentioned something about heading back to the boarding house right after services. Claudette paused for a moment and turned to look behind her. The man was still there. He took the steps, his long legs skipping every other one, and came to a stop right next to her. Claudette gave him a tentative smile.

  “May I walk you home?”

  Claudette looked around. The priest at the top of the stairs waved to her. She lifted her gloved hand in response. “I’d like to know your name first.”

  “Bronson Wauneka. May I have the pleasure of yours?” He lifted her gloved hand to his lips and pressed a kiss against the back of the fabric. Claudette felt the heat all the way to her ears.

  “Claudette. You can call me Claudette.” Did that husky voice really belong to her?

  “I am familiar with most of the people in this part of town, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen you before.”

  Claudette took her hand from his grip and crossed her arms in front of her belly. “I just arrived yesterday.”

  “Let’s head towards the park. May I?” He offered his arm and Claudette held his elbow as they walked across the street. “Are you staying at Mrs. Hawthorne’s?”

  “Why yes, how did you know that?”

  Bronco laughed, “It is my business to know everything that happens in my town.” Claudette looked at him and raised one eyebrow. “Actually, there are only two boarding houses that have an exclusive female clientele. The Hawthorne and the Windsor. The Windsor is not within walking distance of the church, so I guessed the Hawthorne. Since you said you just arrived yesterday I figured you were staying at one or the other.”

  “Very astute, Mr. Wauneka. I’m impressed by your deductive reasoning.”

  “What brings you to Denver?”

  “An opportunity. I don’t want to say anything more than that right now.”

  Bronco nodded. “I understand. I’m not one for saying more than necessary myself.”

  They crossed through the park towards the Hawthorne House. When they arrived at the bottom of the steps, Claudette couldn’t believe they walked the distance so quickly. She was hoping to have a little more time getting to know Mr. Wauneka.

  “Here you are. How long are you in town for?”

  “About a week, and then I don’t know where I’ll be going.” Bronson tilted his head and looked at her. “Like I said, I’m only here for a short while.”

  “Where do you call home?”

  “Louisiana. A small place called Vacherie. My family was in … farming.”

  “I thought I detected a bit of a French accent.”

  “Oui.”

  “Well I do hope that I might entice you to extend your stay a bit longer.”

  “Perhaps.” She walked up the stairs to the door of the brownstone before looking back at him. “Thank you for escorting me back.”

  “The pleasure was all mine. I hope you would allow me to call on you one night this week?”

  Claudette bit her lower lip. “I don’t know. This week may be very busy, but I won’t know for sure until tomorrow.”

  “How about Wednesday then? Hopefully it should calm down by then?”

  Claudette nodded. “That sounds divine.”

  She wat
ched him nod and head down the street towards the far side of the park. As she went inside she realized she didn’t know anything about him. For all she knew, he could be married. He did talk about a wife during his prayers, plus she saw him walking with that lovely blonde. Claudette made a promise to herself that no matter how charming, she would refuse him the next time their paths crossed.

  Claudette was surprised by the number of women crowding the porch when she arrived. She immediately counted 50, but the women were so constantly moving that she lost her place. Finally giving up she followed Jacqueline to the front of a large picture window on the far side of the porch. Claudette tried to press the wrinkles out of her dress with her fingers, but it was no use. With the women crowding the porch, she was better off leaving it alone.