His father had read those words and rubbed his hands together. What kind of description was that, Jericho thought wildly? Was the girl so hideous that her own parents couldn’t even describe her? The idea of being shackled to an uncomely woman made his skin crawl. That was something common with the Buchannans – they had a history of making money multiply… no matter the cost. His father was willing to sacrifice his son’s happiness for the sake of a nickel.
At the spark of anger in his father’s eyes, Jericho knew that arguing against the marriage was a lost cause. If he had to marry, he planned on doing so quickly and leaving the chit at home in order to gain his freedom. He would have his parents off his back and fulfil his ridiculous familial duties.
“Jericho,” his mother said softly, reaching her delicate hand across the table as if to placate him. He stared at it like it was a snake ready to strike at him. Her perfect face made a small frown, revealing a crease in her forehead. “She’s a good girl and comes from a wonderful family. Buchannans have always married Fentons – and the tradition will remain.”
“Mother you are frowning,” he said bluntly and saw her cheeks turn red as she smoothed her hand quickly over her brow in an effort to wipe away any signs of aging. Composing herself, she smiled blandly.
“Thank you, son. As I was saying, Clementine will be a wonderful addition to the family. I think she will be a fine fit and not detract… ah…from your wishes to become a lawman. You know that is not necessary, right? Your father and I can set you up in your own home.”
“I know it’s not mother,” he said with an exaggerated sigh. “I want to become a Pinkerton Agent. The idea of maintaining order and being respected for what I have done – not who I am- is invigorating.”
“As a Buchannan you’ll be respected…” his father began loudly, pounding his fist on the table to emphasize his words. His mother patted his arm encouragingly. Jericho just looked at them and raised an eyebrow.
“That is precisely what I mean.”
“There is nothing wrong with being a Buchannan.”
“Other than it could get me robbed or held for ransom,” Jericho retorted glibly and then softened his voice. “I’ll marry her, but after I check in at the Pinkerton office and find a break between cases. See if you can put this off for at least another month or two. Tell the family to prepare for the wedding but don’t get their hearts set on a date yet.”
“Good boy,” his father muttered under his breath and took a bite of his apple pie. “Cook this is outstanding! Do we have any coffee to go with this?”
Jericho felt like he was being dismissed- just like the hound dog that lay lazily in front of the cold fireplace. No one cared, he was just there for décor. A bargaining chip in the marriage market… and he’d been betrothed long ago to the highest bidder before he was seven years old.
It was a few days before he could manage to get out of the house. He’d agreed to get fitted for a new suit and gave his mother complete autonomy over the wedding planning. This was for them – not him.
The more time passed, the more it felt like a noose was being slipped over his head. The ties of matrimony were beginning to feel real and the idea of getting his first assignment as an agent was slowly dwindling away. He knew his parents wouldn’t understand his dreams and wishes, but they would have to acquiesce since he was being forced to.
He told them that evening at dinner that he was leaving in the morning. He felt almost guilty at the looks of disappointment on their faces, but promised to return in order to marry his fiancé. The next morning, he got up and headed for the train station. Denver- and his future- lay directly in his path and he couldn’t wait to get started.
3
Clementine watched as the massive locomotive came to a stop. Walking down the large boardwalk, she could barely make out the sounds of her boots hitting the wood over the dull roar from the train. It was as if the mechanical beast was heaving its breath, fighting against being held at a stop.
It would be just a bit before people boarded and the faster she got on the train – the better! She was inwardly frightened that her parents would discover that she was gone and try to stop her. She’d left an envelope with a letter inside, telling them not to worry – but she knew they would. Her letter had actually been quite lengthy. She’d poured out her heart on paper. She craved adventure and had never left Chicago. The idea of traveling across the country might fill a place in her heart that felt empty.
She honestly felt like she had nothing right now in the world except her most basic things- her corsets and her knives. She was expected to be a proper young lady. That meant arranging meals, cleaning the home or instructing hired help to do so, and being there for her soon-to-be husband. There had to be more to life, and riding a train would be her first adventure!
The train was an overwhelming thing of beauty! Great monstrous cars were pulled behind a steam locomotive. Large plumes of smoke curled up into the air reminding her of her uncle and his pipe he smoked. She wanted to put up a front – that she was confident of her travels- so she’d worn her Sunday best.
Her dress was one that had been delivered by the dressmaker. It was supposed to be for her to meet her future husband. It was white from head to toe, bisected with a wide black belt that matched the ribbon tie on her hat. Her auburn hair was a stark contrast against the vibrant white material, making the ruddy shade even more brilliant. She wore a pair of black ear bobs and a small beaded necklace to give her a polished appearance.
When she arrived in Denver, she planned on going directly to the Pinkerton office to apply for the position. A woman of confidence could strut in there and prove that she would be needed. If she was to face rebels, outlaws and miscreants – that confidence would be sorely needed. There was no better time than now to work on it!
Glancing up, Clementine saw that they were finally loading the Pullman train car. As she moved forward, she was dismayed to see how high up the step truly was. Grabbing the handrail, she hiked her leg up and managed to make her way up the steep steps into the car.
This was an express train and would reach a maximum speed of twenty or thirty miles per hour, so it would take several days to reach her destination. There were no assigned seats. It was simply taking whatever chair you could find, and that would be your spot. There were drawing room cars, cars with reclining chairs in order to relax, and sleeping cars – but that all cost more money.
Clementine had sold a pair of earrings and used her pin money to purchase her ticket on the sly. She had to watch every precious penny she had right now until she received her first paycheck. Several people had already positioned themselves along the car in different locations.
She spotted a window seat towards the back and hesitated only a moment when she saw the large man sitting nearby. A window seat would give her a view of the countryside- and this was something she didn’t want to miss out on. Walking boldly up to him, she stood there just a moment before clearing her throat. His eyes turned up to hers and she saw a flicker of surprise in his gaze.
“Is this seat taken?”
“Now it is,” the man replied lightly, not moving an inch. His fingers were laced on his chest as he sat there. He looked to be on edge or tense about something.
“Oh, very well then,” Clementine said with a nervous smile and looked over her shoulder for another window seat. There had to be another one on this car and she didn’t relish the idea of having to travel between cars looking for another one. They were bound to get started moving soon and she wanted to be prepared for anything.
“Miss, sit down,” the stranger said after a moment, causing Clementine to look back at him again. This time he was smiling, a teasing glint in his eyes. “The seat is now taken by you. I was teasing you.”
“Of course. I see.”
Squeezing past him, she saw his knees stuck out quite a distance, almost touching the other seat in front of him. She had barely sat down when the train’s whistle gave a massive bellow ann
ouncing their departure. The sheer volume made Clementine jump anxiously, and she dropped her bag onto the floor. The stranger leaned over to pick it up, handing it back to her.
“There are hooks along the wall above you if you want to hang your bag,” he offered politely. “Gives us a bit more leg room.”
Clementine found herself glancing down at his outstretched legs again and then blushed furiously as she saw the tight quarters they were in. Their chairs were next to each other and the idea of accidently bumping into the handsome man’s leg did something to her stomach, tying it in knots.
“Capital idea, thank you.”
Jericho couldn’t believe the woman who’d entered the train’s tiny compartment. He wondered idly if she was on the wrong car or looking for someone in particular. She looked like she’d come directly off the pages of a fashion magazine that his mother read. Her shapely form revealed that even though she was tiny, she wore what was customary in order to maintain fashion standards. His mother would adore that about her, he thought idly, wondering again what his own fiancée would look like.
Her face was hidden by a large hat to protect her from the sun. As she turned, he got a glimpse of her features and caught his breath. Her porcelain skin very nearly matched the color of her dress, but it was the brilliant auburn hair that caught his eyes. It was like watching the dying embers of a campfire. A bit of sunlight from a window caught a curly tendril laying delicately against her cheek, reminding him of flames. Her dark eyes looked fathomless; a rich brown hue that made him think of hot fresh coffee in the mornings. She was utterly lovely – and looking directly at him.
Tensing, he laced his fingers across his chest to keep from sticking out his hand in a nervous handshake. For someone that had always been chased by the ladies back home, he’d never really had to try to start up a conversation. This woman looked at him- and then over him- with a nonchalant air… and he liked it. She stood there as if she knew she was truly something, making him appreciate her classical features even more. A breathtaking statuette.
“Is this seat taken?” Her voice was lilting – like a faint, breathy tune that made him swallow nervously.
“It is now,” he’d blurted out immediately. Confused, he saw her look over her shoulder around the train car and realized that she’d misunderstood his words. Botching things up, Jerry! he thought.
“Miss, sit down. The seat is taken by you.”
She gave a sharp nod and he could see the relief in her eyes. He felt like a cad ogling her as she scooted past him to reach the interior seat. He should have stood up and politely let her through but he was positive that his knees wouldn’t hold him just yet. He felt like an ungainly boy struck dumb by her looks. She was so elegant in a way that called to him – it was nothing like he’d seen before.
As she adjusted her seat, he watched her profile out of the corner of his eyes. Swallowing hard, he glanced up to see if there was a husband nearby watching him. It would not do to tangle with a married woman – against the Pinkerton code and his own moral ethics! Her bag fell to the floor and he immediately bent to pick it up. As he grabbed it, he felt something inside that shocked him. Was she carrying a stiletto? Stunned, he handed it to her and tried to mask surprise from his face.
“There are hooks along the wall above you if you want to hang your bag,” he offered politely. “Gives us a bit more leg room.”
He wanted to ask her about the hilt he clearly felt in her bag but decided against it. Who was he to criticize if a woman wanted to protect herself? Personally, he thought it was brilliant- if she could handle it. If not, it would only weaponize her attacker. The idea of her being accosted bothered him and if they chatted a bit more- perhaps he would offer a few tips or pointers.
Jericho saw her dark eyes look down at his legs and felt his own face flush with heat. He was quite aware of how pretty she was, and the idea that she was measuring him up & down made his own body react in a way that he prayed was hidden from her eyes. Thankfully, she turned away to look out the window once again, giving him a bit of respite.
It was going to be a long trip to Denver.
4
The train lurched forward with a massive heave, pushing Clementine back into the wicker seat she occupied. She could feel a rush and roll, rush and roll, as the wheels on the cars turned – speeding up and carrying them along. Every once in a while they would hit a bump in the track that would jar her nerves anxiously. The motion was faster than anything she’d ever experienced, but the swaying was doing a number on her stomach.
She was queasy.
It reminded her of a trip she and her family had taken long ago. They’d boarded a steamboat on the Mississippi and the slight rocking had her ill for hours on end. This train trip was expected to be much longer than that. Hitting another divot on the track, Clementine couldn’t help the yelp that escaped her as she was tossed aimlessly against the window.
“Oh!”
“Are you alright?” he asked politely.
“Yes,” she replied, removing her hat from her head. She needed air and she was getting unbearably warm. Sticking the elongated hat pin back into the material, she carefully placed it on a hook nearby, hoping it would stay in place.
“Are you sure? If you don’t mind me saying, you are looking a bit green around the gills, miss.”
Closing her eyes and swallowing hard, Clementine tried not to focus on her nausea or the rolling of the car. Instead, she nodded and sat back in the chair sedately. She wouldn’t even know what to do or where to go if she got sick. The thought of becoming ill in front of strangers would be terrible.
Feeling a nudge against her shoulder, Clementine opened her eyes to find her nose butted up against a gun in a holster. She quickly realized it was the other passengers’ hips directly in front of her face.
“What in heaven’s name are you…” she whispered, scandalized, and glanced up to see him fidgeting with the window above her head. He yanked it downwards and a gust of fresh air blew into the car, cooling her immediately. He took his seat and smiled.
“Sometimes a bit of a breeze helps the nausea,” he mumbled knowingly. “Sorry it’s close quarters. I’m trying to keep to my own area but I also didn’t want you getting sick. The smell would be atrocious in here after a bit.”
“That is disgusting.”
“But true. What’s your name?” he asked suddenly, looking at her. He ruffled his hand through his hair in an attempt to finger-comb it into place. “Where are you from?”
“You are certainly full of questions, aren’t you?”
“I don’t mean to be so inquisitive or nosy, but it’s going to be a long trip and I thought we might get to know each other a bit better.”
“That’s very kind of you.”
“Jerry,” he said extending his hand. Clementine saw that it trembled a bit and wondered if he was nervous. But at what? Her? She extended her own gloved hand politely and placed it in his.
“It’s very nice to meet you Mr. Jerry.”
“No. My friends call me Jerry.”
“I don’t believe we are friends yet, sir. I know my mother would have a conniption fit at me addressing a strange man by his first name.”
“Is she here?”
“No.”
“Then call me Jerry,” he said easily with a lop-sided grin. “And you are?”
Clementine hesitated. She’d almost blurted out her name but then realized that things wouldn’t be safe for her until she got to her destination. If word got out that Clementine Fenton was on a train headed to Denver, her parents would be there in no time.
No, she needed an alias.
“Liberty,” she breathed softly, realizing that he still held her hand. She’d wanted her freedom and an adventure – creating a new identity would surely bring that, as well as keeping her family name safe. “My name is Liberty Smith.”
“May I call you Liberty?”
“Since I will be calling you Jerry, I would think that is fitting.”
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“Liberty is a pretty name.”
“Inspirational… some might say.”
“I would agree with those people,” he grinned.
Clementine looked down at their hands and saw he was still shaking hers. She couldn’t help the smile that blossomed in her heart. A slight chuckle slipped from her lips as she met his eyes. A look of chagrin crossed his expression as his blue eyes widened perceptively. He quickly released her and cleared his throat.
“It’s very nice to meet you.”
“And you Jerry. Thank you for opening the window. I do feel better.”
“Sure thing.”
“What is your destination?”
“Denver. I’m meeting up with someone and taking on a new career. My family is in steel and oil production, but that isn’t me. I’m trying to put off my future as long as possible if you get what I mean.”
“Actually. I really believe that I do ‘get what you mean’,” she replied easily, using his own words. “I too am heading to Denver for an interview. My own family is pressing me to marry my betrothed, and I’ve always craved adventure. So, this is the start of my own before I am required to settle down.”
“Your betrothed, huh? Is he in Denver?”
Clementine felt flattered that the man looked almost crestfallen at the idea that she wasn’t available to pursue. Perhaps adding that to her new character, Liberty Smith, would be a boon and keep strange men away from her.
“No. I’m going to try to tackle something a bit different,” she admitted, flushing. She felt nervous for some reason saying the words aloud. “I am applying for a position as a Pinkerton agent.”
“Are you joshing me?”
“No. Do you think a woman cannot be a Pinkerton agent? That we are incapable?”
An Agent for Clementine Page 2