Trace laughed. “Would it not have been easier to invite her new husband to join the ranks and not alienate their daughter?”
“Heavens no! Jethro could never be bought. He is farmer through and through, and Sandy is well aware of the future she is signing up for,” Gen said. “Just the same, I’m glad to be gone from the house. There is bound to be tensions.”
“Suppose there is a settling-in time for all newly married folks. Look at us,” said Trace.
Gen grinned. “Yes, Mr. Stapleton. You definitely take some getting used to.”
“Not all bad, is it?”
“On the contrary. I believe we are adhering to the expectations of our agreement.” She turned toward the wagon. “I’ll just hitch up the team and head to the farm.”
He placed a hand on her arm as she headed toward the stall. “I can do that for you.” As he worked, he asked, “Do you own a horse of your own that you can ride back to town?”
“I do. Shamus is my mare. Shall I house her at the livery or do you have a lean to or barn out back of the town house?”
“I do have a shelter out back. Poor excuse for a barn but Striker is comfortable out there.”
“Striker and Shamus – do you think they’ll get along?”
“Like any new couple, they’ll adjust.”
Trace watched Gen ride out of town, then headed for the depot. Mr. Friskin speculated that perhaps his daughter had taken a train to parts unknown. He’d shown him the half ticket he’d found in Andrea’s garbage pail. In fact, he’d shown him the file on his desk that contained a number of items he’d not included as clues for the Pinkerton Agency. Newspaper clippings of some uppity family from Colorado Springs, seventy-eight miles south, some receipts for purchases, mostly toiletries but one was a baby outfit from a department store. He’d have to write it down on paper so Gen could view his findings tonight when they joined up in town again.
The ticket master at the train station searched his records and located the name that went with the number on the stub. A Simon Frezner had come in from Kansas with a child. And the only reason the employees recalled this information was because of the many complaints fellow passengers had filed. The infant cried the entire trip, and the man totally ignored the annoying glares cast his way. The clerk had not seen the man personally and could offer no description, but Trace recognized the name from his brief glimpse at one of the newspaper clippings in Mr. Friskin’s file. Trace prized himself with a photogenic mind, but Andrea’s father had not left the evidence uncovered for long. Maybe he should visit the library and read old newspaper copies to see where the man’s name popped up.
After two hours of his head buried in old clippings, Trace finally had a face that went with an advertisement listing the man’s skills and services. The flowery words suggested an honest gentleman available to do an honest job, but something about the squinty eyes made Trace’s skin crawl. His questions grew, and in reading between the lines, he suspected they were not done with Simon Frezner.
Trace was exhausted, and hungry. At a café close by, he ordered a bowl of soup and bread. He’d save his big meal for when Gen returned home. Strange how easily her image dropped into his mind when his thoughts turned toward home. His mind wandered off in her directions far too often for a couple sworn to stay detached. Tomorrow was Jethro’s wedding and he supposed he’d have to accompany Gen to the event. He wasn’t looking forward to it, but his presence would be expected.
Trace paced the floor and rushed to the window when he heard Gen ride in at dusk. She dismounted out front and walked her mare around the back. He tore outside, his nerves peeked.
“You’re late,” he bellowed.
She misread his concern for anger and he could see her stubborn streak surface. “I didn’t know I was on the clock, Mr. Stapleton.”
“Stop calling me that. My name is Trace.” He grabbed the lead rope from her hands and headed for the outbuilding.
She followed, and once inside let it rip. “Trace, what’s got you all riled up?” Somehow, she made his name sound like a cuss word.
“A woman shouldn’t be riding alone after dark,” was all he muttered.
“Until yesterday, I rode when I chose to,” she spoke back.
“Well, yesterday you became my responsibility, so don’t do it again,” he bellowed.
She lowered her voice and within inches of his face, spoke firmly. “I am a Pinkerton agent, not a mousy housewife you can order around. Do I make myself clear?”
“Quite! Forgive me for caring.”
She followed him into the tack room. “Trace; I’m touched that you care for my well-being. I’m just not used to being ordered around.” Ignoring her, he threw the saddle over the rail in a back room and then headed inside the main section of the building.
“Nice mare,” he said as he led the animal into the second stall in the small backyard barn. Striker whinnied a welcome to his roomie and Shamus responded by flaring up her head. Trace pulled her proud head down demonstrating who was boss. “A mite high strung – just like her owner.”
“Have you eaten?” Gen asked.
“No. I was waiting for you.”
“You needn’t have bothered. I told you I had lots of work to do at the farm. I ate with the family.”
“I’m your family now.”
“I’ll be sure to remember that, Mr. Stapleton.” He never corrected her use of his surname as she slammed out of the barn and marched toward the house. The honeymoon was progressing just as he suspected. He shut down his heart and took an extra-long time to feed the animals.
Gen fried a slab of ham and opened a can of brown beans. The skimpy supper sat on the table when he entered the kitchen. She was nowhere to be seen but he heard her thrashing around in the bedroom. All the while he ate, he wondered if she would come out or just pout in the room all night. As he rinsed off his plate, he felt her presence behind him.
“I can do that,” she said. He was pleased to note her voice had softened and seemed somewhat reconciled.
He moved out of her way and sat at the table with a mug of coffee. “Join me for a hot drink, Gen, and let’s start again. I bought a spice cake at the bakery.”
“That was thoughtful. I skipped dessert at home – I mean the farm – and just headed to town. I’ve baked enough cookies today that would last us an entire lifetime.”
When she sat across from him, he asked, “Do you think we will last a lifetime, Gen Stapleton?”
She bit her lip and sipped her coffee before answering. “I didn’t think a lifetime was in your plans.”
“It might be, given the right woman.”
“Well, we’ll have to see how it all works out. We are two days into our case. Is there anything new to report?”
Back to her place of comfort – business. He sighed. “The ticket stub led me to a fella coming in from Kansas, Simon Frezner. An aura of mystery hangs over his head. According to the newspaper, he was thrown in jail overnight after stalking a family. When the baby disappeared a few days later, he became a suspect, on the run. But the law lost his trail and have given up the search. Not sure how it all connects to our case, but Andrea is involved. She purchased the two tickets. Most employees I talked to at the depot weren’t much help.”
“When did this happen?”
“Beginning of the week,” said Trace.
“I suppose that puts him on our suspect list, as well. We will need to watch if Andrea connects with him. Perhaps she paid him to help her run away.” Gen bolted from her chair and began to pace. “Maybe she met him when she went to stay with her aunt for a few weeks.” Trace’s brows arched and Gen answered his unasked question. “Her mother, Mrs. Friskin told me about her time away in Kansas. They were hoping the matron spinster would be able to knock some sense into the girl.”
“Sounds likely they met there,” said Trace. “That is where the ticket master said he came from and the newspaper clipping puts him there last week.”
“Do you suppo
se a trip to Kansas might be necessary?” she asked, attempting to hold back her excitement.
Trace noticed it. “Probably wouldn’t hurt none. We might find Andrea there. She certainly isn’t hanging around town. We’ll leave after the wedding.”
“Are you planning to attend with me?
“Would you like me too?” he asked.
“My family will take it for granted.”
“That doesn’t answer my question. Do you want me there?”
She levelled her gaze at him and never flinched. “I would be proud to stand by your side, Trace Stapleton.”
The woman was a complex creature. There was no figuring her out. One minute she was chewing him out and the next, her misty eyes offered beams of hope for his tormented soul.
“Then I shall attend.”
The next day dawned with the fresh smell of summer in the air and the promise of a rain-free day. They dressed in their Sunday best and Trace once again rented a carriage. She’d claimed it as an unnecessary expense but he reasoned if they could ride in style while working, Gen did not deserve to arrive at her brother’s wedding riding on the back of her horse.
The ceremony was emotional for Gen, and Trace found himself holding her hand. He twirled her wedding band with his fingers and felt her hands break out in a warm sweat. Did she feel the connection, or was the effects of the sun merely overheating her body and having a hay-day with his mind?
The bride wore a simple gown, which complemented the natural setting and excited her groom. Rocky Mountains filled the background picture and when the brilliant rays bounced off the surface of the water, Trace’s attention shifted to Gen. Spellbound, he watched her features sparkle as she hung on every vow that the couple recited. It surprised him to realize how much he wished their wedding ceremony had received such a heartwarming response. He could only hope for the day she might gaze on him in the same dreamy manner.
When the ceremony was over and all the hugs and best wishes were sprinkled over the gathering like stardust, Trace pulled Gen to the side.
“You need to tell your family we’re going out of town – so they don’t worry.”
“I am a married woman. They won’t worry when I have you watching out for me.”
“Thank you,” said Trace. “I appreciate that you noticed.”
“I’m thrilled to be going to Kansas. I’ve never been outside of Denver.”
Trace noticed her blue eyes darken and stare beyond him. He glanced back and saw nothing but the tree line.
“What’s the matter?”
“I could have sworn I saw my brother Nick, the one who left home rather suddenly.”
“Almost as suddenly as you?”
“I suppose you’re right. But if he is still in the neighborhood, why didn’t he come to Jethro’s wedding? I don’t understand.”
“Maybe he’s afraid Jethro will be angry about his taking off and leaving him the farm to manage when the newlyweds should be off enjoying their honeymoon,” said Trace.
“Saul is going to do his best alone. Wanted to give Jethro a few days before life reverted to normal. I’m sure Sandy expected at least that much from her common husband.”
Trace chuckled. “Look at her folks over there. Stick out like a sore thumb, don’t you think?”
“Maybe we should be hospitable and make the effort to welcome them to the family.”
“A fact I’m sure they dread.”
Gen scooped her arm through Trace’s and together they made their way toward the fashionable couple standing alone sipping punch from the buffet table. Gen moved alongside and reached out her hand.
“Mr. and Mrs. St. Clair. Welcome to the family.”
They appeared gracious and mumbled a feeble, “thank you,” at the same time, as if they’d practiced the response for this occasion.
“Your daughter is a beautiful bride, and we look forward to getting better acquainted,” said Gen.
“I hear congratulations are in order for you as well.”
Gen pulled Trace into the circle. “Yes. This is Trace Stapleton, my husband.”
“It appears you two aren’t getting much of a honeymoon either,” said Mr. St. Clair, his voice ringing with attitude. “We wanted to send Sandy and Jethro abroad for a month but it appears work comes first in his world.”
“Sandy understands Jethro’s passion, but I’m sure he will make it up to her in a less busy season,” said Gen. “As for us, we are leaving for Kansas in the morning.”
“Good man! Take care of your woman and she’ll take care of you,” said Mr. St. Clair.
“My plan exactly,” said Trace, with his new husband grin spreading across his face. Gen bit her lip nervously and he chuckled inwardly at her playful display of new bride jitters.
“We wondered that Sandy did not have Andrea Friskin stand up with her today,” said Gen, changing the subject.
“Oh, she was supposed to, but apparently some last-minute emergency caused her to bail out. Upset our Sandy very much,” said Mrs. St. Clair.
“Left home. Her family is upset as well. Appears she is a missing person,” said Trace.
“Hardly. I remember Sandy telling us she saw her yesterday, standing off in the distance. But when she called out, Andrea ducked out of sight. Yes, the girl may have left home, but she appears to be hiding out locally.”
Gen glanced at Trace who raised his brows with obvious interest, In the same instant, she became distracted once again at the tree line.
She smiled at the couple. “Would you excuse me? There’s something that requires my attention.”
Trace watched as she headed for the trees, where she seemed convinced her brother Nick lurked.
Chapter 5
Gen glanced quickly behind her before stepping out of sight beyond the trees. Everyone appeared preoccupied with visiting and nibbling on the refreshments provided. All except Trace who followed her with his eyes while continuing to talk with the St. Clair’s.
A few feet on the other side, a hand grabbed her arm. Gen twirled around to face Nick.
“The prodigal son has returned to find the fatted cow was slain for his brothers feast – not his.” Gen couldn’t suppress the annoyance that infiltrated her voice.
“You’re angry. I’m sorry, Genevieve. An emergency came up. I had to break loose from the farm.”
“But you are here now, hiding in the bushes instead of congratulating your little brother on his special day. Why?”
“I can’t say. I just wanted to talk to you,” said Nick, glancing nervously in the direction of the party scene.
“Have you done something illegal, Nicolas Trafton?”
“Of course not.” His words did not sound convincing. “I wanted to know why you snuck off and married the first bimbo you met?”
“Oh, it’s about me sneaking off. Now it all makes sense,” she said sarcastically.
“Genevieve, I know this man, Trace Stapleton. He goes through wives like water. The first one died rather brutally and the second, well she left him after one month. What have you gotten yourself into?”
“Trace has been the perfect gentleman and protector since we wed, and he is not the first bimbo I met. I believe you are, brother dear.”
“Forget about me. It’s you I’m concerned about.”
“Save your concern for your own hide. A person who needs to watch his brother’s wedding from behind a tree is a troubled man.”
Nick did not let up. “Why did you marry the day after I left home? Why the rush?”
“It’s none of your business. But it may please you to know I’m happy. It was time for me to leave the farm with Sandy moving in. Sharing a home with two sisters will be challenging enough for the newlyweds. Trace and I wanted to marry anyway, so we did it on impulse and have not regretted our decision.”
Nick ran his fingers through his thick hair and sighed. “You seem content. Guess that gives me some measure of relief.”
“So, back to you. Swear on Papa’s grave you a
re not doing something illegal.”
“Genevieve, you know I hate farm work.”
“I know, but that does not answer my question.”
“I’m just feeling my oats, seeing where I belong in this big old world.”
He didn’t sound convincing and Genevieve rested a hand on his arm. “You are a big boy, Nick. I can only hope and pray you will keep your good sense about you. Stay safe.”
Nick pulled her into his arms. “I miss you Genevieve. You were always my favorite.” She rested in his embrace briefly and then pushed away.
“When will I see you again?” Gen asked.
“Got some prospects. Should be back before fall sets in.”
“Then I’ll be watching for you. I live in town now so drop by and visit us anytime.”
Gen sat quietly in the carriage all the way home. The heavens lit the sky with starry brilliance and she hid the splendor in her heart. As a falling star streamed toward the earth, she lifted a prayer for Jethro and Sandy’s future happiness. She could only hope that she and Nick would benefit from some of the leftover stardust sprinkling over the land while on its descent.
Trace attempted to rouse her. “So, was the wedding all you expected it to be?”
She turned toward the man seated by her side “Yes, and more. My brother is the happiest I’ve ever seen him. And Sandy, I suspect, is grateful I’m out of the way of their budding romance.”
“Newlyweds should be alone for a spell. Lots of adjustments,” said Trace.
“They are not alone by a long shot,” said Gen, her laughter filling the night air. “But I’ve spoken to the others and encouraged them to allow Sandy and Jethro breathing space.”
“And what of the other brother? The one hiding in the trees?” asked Trace.
A shadow fell across Gen’s face and she frowned. “I don’t know. He never really explained why he didn’t join the party or what he’s doing since leaving the farm. Just pulled the big brother act, getting all fired up about me and you.” She peered at Trace. “Why would he think I made a poor choice for a husband? Do you have secrets?”
An Agent for Genevieve Page 4