An Agent for Brutus

by Parker J Cole

  He glowered at her. “You will tell me everything.”

  “No. Only what I can. But what I will say will make things easier for you to decide if you will come with me to my father.”

  Should he allow her to have this victory or demand more?

  “Tell me what you can.”

  He listened for the next few minutes as she told of her ailment. That a doctor had discovered a lump in her throat last year. She would need surgery to remove it but unless she could pay the fee, it would eventually cause her death.

  “At first, the lump in my throat was an irritation. Over time, its size has increased. I am currently having episodes of not being able to catch my breath. My father has offered to pay for the surgery, but I must bring you to him.”

  “Then I was right. Caesar wants his revenge on me.”

  A bleak look entered her eyes. “Yes. You are essentially the only one who can determine if that will happen.”

  He took in her words, a growing horror coming over him. How could Caesar treat his own flesh and blood in this manner? Why hold her life in the balance in order to obtain his vengeance? Brutus couldn’t fathom doing such a thing to his children.

  It lent an idea of how deep Caesar’s hatred went.

  “Brutus.”

  Tam’s voice drew him out of his musing. “What?”

  “You must not tell my father what I have told you. If you do, he will not pay for the surgery. You are to come of your own will, Brutus. Nothing I say can influence that.”

  Pinching the bridge of his nose and squeezing his eyes shut, he said, “You can’t expect me to not say anything. This is diabolical and it proves that this is not the same man I knew twenty years. I will not keep silent over this.”

  Mutiny lined her lips and her eyes narrowed. “You’ve said that before and I wonder exactly who it was you knew.”

  Her words weren’t making any sense. “What are you talking about?”

  She stood. “You say how my father has changed. Well, to you he may have changed, but I have grown up with this man my whole life.”

  Her fingers curled into fists. “I have never known any other type of father than the one I have. You make mention of a man with a sense of humor. A man who traveled with you. A man who you considered a friend. I have never met him. All I know is the man I grew up with. Distant. Cold. Calculating. He never does anything without a reason. I know for certain that he orchestrated this communication because he has run out of patience.”

  “I’m sure.”

  “My father has spoken of his hatred for you. It has consumed his entire life. He never told me why he detests you. I only know that he does.”

  Brutus glanced away from the censure in her eyes. She had every right to know what it was that caused Caesar to harbor this need for vengeance for as long as he had. But he had to protect Roseline from all harm, even though she was no longer there to be affected by it. Her memory must be preserved.

  “If Caesar hasn’t told you then it must mean it is something that he does not like to recall.”

  “I want to know what happened.” Her thin body bristled. “What could you have done to warrant this?”

  How to tell her that it wasn’t what he had done but what Roseline had done? That twenty years ago Roseline had made a mistake. That mistake ripped through their lives like a tornado. No, he would not reveal these things. Brutus had spent most of his life protecting his wife from that incident and he saw no reason to stop now. “I cannot tell you that.”

  “You must!”

  “No, I don’t have to. My life is not the one in danger.”

  The words settled between them in an uneasy fashion. At the uncertain look which came into her eyes, he stilled. “Or is it?”

  “I’m not sure.” She spread her fingers out. “I asked my father once if he planned to kill you. He said, yes, but not in the way I meant.”

  How would he hurt him?

  “No matter what happens to me, Tam. I will not allow you to suffer from it. I will go with you to see your father.”

  Tam’s face revealed her surprise. Did she really think he would not help her once he knew her life hung in the balance? He had never been a callous man and wasn’t planning on starting to be one now. Had what happened all those years ago really made the Caesar he knew disappear? Replaced by a cold, unfeeling mirage?

  Once again, he studied the woman before him. According to the bare details she’d given of her life, it had been one of loneliness. Bereft of love. Brutus thought of his own daughters. They had never known such a life as this red hummingbird had experienced. Roseline and he had loved their children.

  “Thank you, Brutus.” Her shoulders eased as if a weight had lifted off them.

  “There is a condition, however, colibri rouge.”

  She tensed. Her head tilted back. “A condition? What sort of condition?”

  “I will go to your father… with you as my wife.”

  “You’re not serious.”

  Brutus brought himself closer to her. “I am quite serious, Tam.”

  Her next words came out on a breath. “Why would you want to do something like?”

  If he explained, he would have to reveal things of the past. He wouldn’t do that. Instead, he said, “I believe you will need the protection of my name. I believe being my wife will help.”

  “I doubt that, Brutus.”

  Even as he said it, something inside of him recoiled. How could he marry another woman? Roseline had been a perfect wife and mother. Was it a desecration to her memory to marry someone else?

  Unbidden came his recollection of his dream. Of the hummingbird pecking out Roseline’s eye. He shook the disturbing image away. Why think of that?

  “I tend to trust my instincts on this. They tell me to do this. Monsieur Gordon can marry us.”

  “Archie would never agree to marry us. And besides, you’re not a Pinkerton agent.”

  Brutus shrugged. “I guess I am now.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Silverpines, Oregon

  They arrived at the bustling community of Silverpines. Primarily a mining and timber town, they were able to find lodgings at the hotel in the town center. It was their last stop before they made the two-day journey from here to Wickwell Springs. There wasn’t a stage that went there so Caesar had planned for them to be met by a couple of ranch hands who would escort them to Wickwell Springs.

  Brutus stood at the desk as he waited for the attendant. Tam stood at his side, her eyes glancing everywhere. There had been a few looks in her direction, mainly because she was a negro woman, but also due to the white streak of hair, but nothing that seemed disrespectful. Once they received the key to their room, he took her arm and then trudged up the stairs.

  It was still difficult to believe that he was married again. Mrs. Bradford once again walked the earth. Not Roseline but Tamera. He tried not to think much about Tam in the capacity of being his wife. Unofficially, they were married for the sake of convenience. He was now a Pinkerton agent, accepting the training that Tam would supposedly provide for them.

  Officially, she was his wife. That was what mattered.

  The hardest part was convincing Monsieur Gordon to have the judge who performed all the Colorado office marriages to marry them. It had taken a discussion of two days before he finally relented.

  “I’ll be glad to rest before we continue on.”

  Brutus set their belongings in a corner and turned. Tam did look exhausted. Her proud shoulders drooped, and lines of tiredness framed the contours of her face. “Oui.”

  Two narrow beds had been provided. Brutus was glad for that. During their travels, they had slept separate. Never having to have the boundaries of their relationship strained by having to share a bed had made it easier to get used to the idea he was married.

  His children, when they found out, had shown various stages of shock. Yet, it was Arielle who had come to him the night before the ceremony.

  “Are you sure this is the
right thing, Papa?”

  Brutus had stroked her hair. “It is the only thing to do.”

  The choices he and Roseline had made had impacted Tam. It was his responsibility to do what he could to make it better.

  During their journey, Tam had once more asked about what had led to Caesar’s hatred. Brutus declined to tell her. A hurt expression flashed on her face, but she hid it. The sight of that pain sent a stab through his chest. Did he owe Tam the truth or should he protect Roseline’s memory?

  “We can eat downstairs,” he said. “I overheard one of the other passengers on the train say the food is good here.”

  “I agree.”

  She sat down at the vanity provided by the hotel. “Though I have mixed feelings about seeing my father again, I will be glad to be back at the ranch if only to make use of the wash facilities.” Her hand drifted to her throat.

  Brutus, during their journey, witnessed the severity of her condition. It happened during a meal. Though she’d carefully cut her food up in small pieces and chewed as slowly as possible, somehow a piece of chicken had lodged in her throat. Soon she was choking. He rushed over, slapping her back as hard as he could to help get the food out.

  When it flew out of her mouth, she still flailed about frantically. Clutching her throat, tears had trickled down her cheeks. There was nothing he could do then as he watched the struggle for literally life and death wage in those few seconds. Finally, she was able to push past the bulge, as she later described it to him. It left her very weak and she had to rely on his strength in order to go back to her bunk bed on the train.

  His anger at Caesar had grown. Was getting his revenge more important than taking care of his daughter? Saving her life?

  When he questioned Tam about it a couple of days later, she said. “Doctor Peterson is the one who told me of the doctor who would perform the surgery. This doctor lives in Wickwell Springs.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  “There’s not much to tell. The town borders several springs reputed to have healing properties. It’s mainly dominated by the Chinese but there are other races as well. Three asylums—”

  “Asylums?” Brutus queried.

  “Yes, asylums. People send their loved ones there for treatment. If that is to be had. If not, then to be forgotten.”

  After seeing that, something inside of his heart cracked. Tam had struggled through this all alone. She’d been forgotten. How many times had she gone through this? How had these episodes worsened over time?

  His admiration for her grew. Her quiet strength and tenacity made him look at her with new eyes. She wasn’t Roseline. No one could ever be. Roseline’s strength of the vivacious brilliant kind. It affected everyone around her in different ways.

  Tam’s strength came from learning to depend on herself.

  “Are you ready?”

  Brutus gave a mental shake. His wife stood at the door, a quizzical expression on her face. Though exhausted, and travel worn, she managed to look composed and attractive. He recalled thinking that no one could ever hold a torch to Roseline’s beauty. Yet, he discovered that Tam had a regal, unique beauty. Her wide cinnamon eyes, the stark white streak in her hair, the smoothness of her reddish-brown skin, it all combined to create a work of art.

  What was happening to him?

  “I’m ready.”

  Later that night, Brutus lay in his bed, staring at the ceiling. In the other bed, he heard Tam’s gentle snores. A small smile touched his lips. Did all women snore the same?

  His feelings were changing for the woman in the bed next to him. When they’d first met, he held her under suspicion because of her connection with Caesar. But he remembered being attracted when he saw her in her nightgown.

  Sorrow had permeated his emotions when he learned of her life with her father. Duty and honor had come next as he made the step to come to Wickwell Springs in order give himself over to Caesar’s plans.

  Now, another emotion stirred. Familiar and yet different. He didn’t want to delve into what he thought it was. It was dangerous to go further than that.

  Tam moved in her sleep, and then an odd noise sounded out. As if something had fallen to the floor. Curious, Brutus rose and padded over to Tam’s bed. Slivers of moonlight landed on her prostrate form. She looked lovely in moonlight. Something glinted under the gentle beam of light. He bent and saw that it was a small framed miniature. He turned it over and froze.

  It was a picture of himself when he was about twenty-five years old. Seeing it reminded him of the day he’d had this photograph taken. The gentleman who had developed the image had lost a game of chance and in payment, he offered to take his picture.

  Brutus stared at Tam. Straightening back up, he gazed down at the framed photograph again. From the position of which it had fallen, it had been in her hand. What did it mean? Why would a woman like Tam keep a picture of him when she went to bed at night?

  ***

  Tam awakened and stretched. Today, they would leave and begin to make the journey to her father’s ranch. After that, despite every good and decent thing within recoiling at what she was doing, Caesar would have Brutus to bring to his knees. Her father would pay for the surgery that would help her and then…

  Then what? She’d get her marriage annulled? Go back to her life as a Pinkerton agent?

  No, she couldn’t go back to that existence of solitude again. These days traveling with Brutus had been the best of her life. Though she knew the dark end of their journey, nothing would have her trade these experiences.

  White Caesar had told her that Brutus was a man of gallantry and he’d proven to be right. No matter where they went, he treated her with an almost excessive respect. Cognizant of her every mood and her desire. She’d been fortunate enough to not be plagued by Jim Crow laws as they traveled so their train rides were uneventful. His blue eyes rarely left her.

  Her childish dream had come true. She was Mrs. Brutus Bradford.

  Sitting up, Tam looked over at the other bed and saw that Brutus was gone. He must have gone to wash. She hugged herself. How many times in the past had she gazed at the picture of her father’s enemy, whispering the words, “I now present Mr. and Mrs. Brutus Bradford.”

  She stared out the window. Roseline had had his name for twenty years or more. Tam would only have his name for a short amount of time, but she would relish it.

  Admit it, Tam. You love him. You always have.

  No, she couldn’t call what she felt for Brutus as a child love. She’d never experienced it from anyone in her life. Maybe it was just the brokenness of a lonely child. Whatever it was, she’d clung to the miniature.

  Now, having the real man before her was much better than the miniature.

  Sighing contentedly, she reached under her pillow to put the small photo back in her case before Brutus came back. Searching for it, her fingers just kept hitting the empty space under her pillow.

  Lifting her pillow, she inhaled sharply.

  The miniature was missing.

  Jumping from the bed, Tam pulled at the sheets. Where was it? Tossing the blanket onto the floor, she patted the bed, searching for the tell-tale sign of the miniature. Nothing.

  Picking up the blanket she’d thrown on the floor, she shook it violently. No clatter to the ground.

  Her heart started thumping in her chest. She must have it. She must!

  Tam knelt and peered under the bed. Nothing there either.

  Standing again, she slowly scanned the floor. It must have fallen, but where?

  Her heart thudded in her chest. Her breath shortened in gasps while her thoughts started to crash about in her head. She must find it. She had to.

  “What are you looking for?”

  Brutus’s low voice from behind made her jolt in surprise. She turned and then it happened again.

  Clutching her throat, the bulge swelled like a grapefruit. She squeezed her eyes shut. No, not this now. Dear God, we’re so close. Don’t let me die.

 
The miniature. Where was it?

  Knife-like stabs doubled her over. She could barely swallow. The bulge just kept growing.

  “Tam!”

  Brutus’s arms came around her. “Try to relax,” he murmured softly. “It’s going to be all right.”

  His voice, soothing and low, worked on her panicked brain. She forced away the anxiety and focused on trying to get the bulge down her throat.

  “Hurts,” she rasped out as she squeezed her neck. “Hurts.”

  “I know,” he cupped her face, forcing her to look at him. “Just relax. Listen to me, Colibri rouge, just relax.”

  Tam clung to the rope of life in the calmness from his blue eyes. As long as he was here, it was okay. He wouldn’t let anything happen to her.

  Dear God, help me.

  She closed her eyes and fought. Fought for breath as she forced down the bulge. Then, when it passed, it was over.

  She slumped against Brutus, weak and unable to do more than just lightly wheeze as she tried to regain her breathing. He lifted her up into his arms and carried her over to bed where he proceeded to lie down beside her.

  Tam stilled at the unfamiliar presence of a man’s body next to her. Who was she kidding? The only man she ever wanted by her side was Brutus and he was there now. His masculine scent teased her nose. Warmth exuded from his body in waves of heat. How safe she felt wrapped in the iron grip of his hold. Why would she ever want to leave this place of safety and rest?

  Before long, her breathing returned to normal. Still she didn’t move out of his arms.

  “Are you better?”

  She nodded. “Yes. Thank you for being there for me.”

  “You’re always so proper and polite, colibri rouge.”

  His beard tickled her skin in a pleasant way. “I can’t help it. I am who I am.”

  “I wouldn’t want you to change. Not in any way.”

  Tam said nothing. Any moment now, she would disentangle herself from his embrace and then they would get ready to leave for her father’s ranch. Any moment…

  “What were you looking for?”

  She stiffened. “What did you say?”

  “Before you had your attack, I saw you were looking for something. What were you looking for?”