An Agent for Genevieve

by Marlene Bierworth

  “Not that I know of. I don’t believe I’ve ever met Nick.”

  “His greatest concern was your past relationships with women – or wives to be more precise.”

  “My wives? Marriages at the Agency are all legally registered. It’s not a secret, especially for folks who stick their nose in other people’s business.”

  “Something about one murdered and the other leaving you. Doesn’t speak well for your record.”

  “You know the Agency rules, and made your choice. Are you wanting to back out? Because I can arrange that and get a replacement with some credentials that will give me a real case to solve.” Trace sounded angry and she felt confused.

  “I don’t understand. Isn’t a missing person case considered important?”

  “For beginners, I suppose.”

  “I am a beginner, and I thought you were fine with that.”

  “The Friskin’s pull a lot of weight in Denver so Archie figured it was something we needed to jump on, and you were the first willing girl to walk in the door.”

  “So, am I to assume I was merely hired for lack of a better applicant?”

  Trace focused on her face and seemed to back down on his frontal attack. “You’re doing great. Let’s forget this conversation.”

  “Suits me fine,” she said as she straightened in the seat and returned her gaze to the sunset. “I’m too tired to fight, anyway.”

  The next morning Trace came racing into the house. She was just about to ask where he’d disappeared to, when he declared, “Change of plans.”

  “Excuse me? No Kansas?” Gen said.

  “No. Colorado Springs. I was down at the depot to get our tickets when who do you think I saw?” Gen shrugged her shoulders, and he continued. “The brother in the woods.”

  “Nick? Why would that change our plans?”

  “He was arguing with Andrea, behind a building. She was dressed in some cloak and dagger outfit, but I recognized her from the family painting her folks have on the wall.”

  “Nick doesn’t know Andrea,” said Gen.

  “Apparently he does. He called her by name, using quite an angry tone,” Trace said. “When they parted, she vanished into obscurity, so I followed him. He asked inside about a private chartered group leaving at noon and paid for two people. After he left, I went inside and signed us up.”

  “Chartered – as in a wagon train? We’re not traveling by locomotive?”

  “Not this time. We are roughing it with a bunch of stragglers who prefer to ride in discomfort and face the dangers of the wild.”

  Gen swallowed her disappointment. “Or perhaps to remain hidden from the general public. That could be their agenda.”

  Trace nodded. “Good observation.”

  “I suppose I should repack. Not the setting for pretty, stylish dresses.”

  “Yes, practical garments would be easier. Include cooking pans, blankets and the like. We’ll need to feed ourselves. I had to nearly beg for the burly man in charge to let us tag along, but he finally gave in. A retired trail master named Zack Scott. But this is the best part. Guess who the man hired to hunt food for us is?”

  Gen shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t know.”

  “Simon Frezner! Now you know why we have to go. Both Andrea and the man with the baby will be traveling with us.”

  “And don’t forget my brother? This is not what I wanted Nick to be doing with his life.” Gen looked away to hide the puddle of tears gathering in corners of her eyes.

  Trace squeezed her hand. “Throw in some cans. Whatever you see in the cupboard; or go to the mercantile and get what you think we need. Use the money I gave you for expenses.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “To the livery. Need to rent a wagon so we look the part. Welcome to your honeymoon, sweetheart.”

  With that, he was gone. Gen moved into high gear, changing her dress into something more appropriate for the trail and rearranging her personal suitcase. In the pantry, she scanned the cupboards and noticed an abundant supply of beans. She understood it to be a good staple while camping but decided to go to the store and add diversity to their diet. In the end; coffee, rice, and one of every vegetable canned variety went into the food box. Gen had no idea how long they’d be with the group, so she added dried meat, cheese and a couple loaves of bread.

  Their task had been to find the missing person, and according to Trace, he’d seen her this morning. A perfect opportunity to tote her home to her parents. Case closed. Instead they were about to leave on a wagon ride southward alongside Andrea Friskin, Nick, perhaps a baby, and some mystery man running from the law. All while under the disguise of a honeymooning couple. Trace was not sharing something and that made her uncomfortable. She should be able to trust her own partner. Doubt crept in and spoiled the lure of the adventure. By twelve o’clock, they were lined up with three other wagons with no sign of the girl under surveillance.

  Gen pulled him off to the side. “Well, Mr. Stapleton, where is Andrea?”

  “I don’t know. I was sure I read your brother’s signals right about her coming, but must confess, I didn’t actually hear him say her name aloud.”

  “What kind of detective work is that?”

  “It’s called a sixth sense,” he stated with force. “One thing I know for sure is the girl’s not leaving on today’s train, so by using process of elimination and your brother’s concern, this mode of travel is the next best option.” Trace appeared satisfied with those conclusions. “I’m thinking maybe this area is too much in the open for a girl hiding from her family. Likely she’ll join the wagon train once we get out of town.”

  “Sounds probable,” agreed Gen. “But if she doesn’t show by tomorrow, we’ll split and go our own way.”

  “But what about your honeymoon?” he asked as if she really expected one.

  “That was not part of the bargain.”

  He appeared annoyed. “Well, my dear, that’s what folks here expect to see, so put on your happy face and let’s figure out what Andrea is up to.”

  “This is your idea, isn’t it, because a missing person case is not up to your standards of real detective work? Now you’re sending us on a wild goose chase to investigate as to why the troubled girl ran away from home?”

  “I figure it’ll be a feather in our team-cap. If we solve her problems, she won’t be tempted to run from home a second time. Her parents will appreciate us going the extra mile.”

  “Her parents don’t realize that we are the agents on the case,” Gen said.

  “Definitely not. But Archie will pass on a bonus should it come our way.”

  “I read accepting bonuses is against Agency policy.”

  “Rules are made to be broken.” Trace picked her up by the waist and swung her around in a circle before laying a kiss on her mouth. He whispered in her ear. “Are you ready, my love, to meet your public?”

  Truthfully, she was anything but ready. Trace’s spontaneous public show of affection had unsettled her, in a good sort of way, should they have been a normal married couple. She hated feeling helpless to stop her emotions from responding every time he came close. He scooped his arm through hers and nudged her reluctant frame toward the group.

  “Good afternoon, folks. My name is Trace and this is my wife Gen. Looking forward to traveling the countryside with y’all.”

  Chapter 6

  The women closed in and Gen felt overcome and stifled. To what degree she’d need to use these women to solve the case remained unknown and she’d rather stay detached than cause anyone grief by her hand. Sensitivity was probably not an asset to a Pinkerton agent. She sucked in her misgivings, and dived into getting to know the ladies. From the corner of her eye, she noticed Trace doing the same thing and gathered strength from him. By the time the wagons pulled out, she was mentally exhausted.

  Three flamboyant women had managed to zap her energy, more than any crowd that had gathered at the farm during harvest. But her inner turmoil boiled
down to a guilty conscience. Deceit played a major part in obtaining usable evidence. She must somehow learn to plow past that crippling hindrance, for Gen wanted nothing more than to be successful in her new line of work.

  Trace steered the team into position behind the last wagon then jumped down to stand beside his wife.

  “Our fellow travelers seem a happy lot,” Gen said.

  “A little too happy, if you ask me,” said Trace. “All filled with dreams of a better life.”

  “You say it like you don’t believe bettering oneself is a worthwhile cause.”

  “I do, but a couple of these guys give me the creeps. Not your typical settlers on the way to a new beginning.” Trace stared at the husky fella playing with the ringlets that hung loose from his wife’s hat. He received a swat for his advances.

  “Are you afraid they are easy prey for the first scoundrel that passes our way?” asked Gen.

  “Perhaps you can teach the ladies a thing or two, when you’re not busy solving our case,” said Trace. “Building new skills, other than their flaunting their obvious physical features, will prove more beneficial when it comes time to nurture the fires on the new frontier.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “Suspect these fellas have reached to the bottom of the barrel for their choice of women to wed.”

  “Trace Stapleton. That’s unkind. They seem nice enough – perhaps a bit painted and flirty, but they’re young and still trying to impress their men.”

  “Whatever you say. Just saying they may need to learn some of those homey skills you’re so good at.”

  “Why thank you for that off-handed compliment. I shall watch for opportunities. But we are here to work, first and foremost.”

  “Correction, my dear.” Trace reached for her hand. “We are here to honeymoon. Anything else will be spotted a mile away.”

  Gen leaned over and kissed his cheek. “Just in case someone is watching,” she whispered in his ear.

  “Glad they put us at the back of the pack. Good vantage point to see all. We’ll be the first to spot the mischief-makers seeking to make a profit from trusting families.” He reached for her hand. “Let me help you to board this rented wagon.”

  “There is a man riding a lone horse a hundred yards back. I believe his position is the official back of the pack.”

  Trace roared laughing. “Good spotting. His name is Simon – our prime suspect in the case of the missing Andrea Friskin.”

  “At least you were right on his account. Gives me hope that Andrea will also be joining us,” said Gen.

  “You sound surprised that I know what I’m doing,” Trace said. “It’s not all that rare, you know? I do possess a good ability to follow leads.” The wagon ahead was a good distance, so Trace released the brake and they lurched forward.

  “I’m sure you possess many good qualities, Mr. Stapleton,” Gen teased feeling rather playful now that the journey had begun.

  Trace kept his eyes straight ahead. “I just hope Simon can shoot game to feed us. That gives me two good reasons to keep track of the man.”

  “Are you hungry?” Gen asked “I forgot all about lunch in our rush to leave.” She twisted backward and reached into a sack she’d placed at the front of the wagon. “I have some dried jerky if you need something to tide you over.”

  “Perceptive female. I shall have to be careful.”

  “Not at all. I heard your tummy grumbling over the noise of the wheels chattering on this hard ground. I believe you have chosen a very rugged honeymoon for us, husband.”

  “I can do better, if we ever reach a real understanding,” said Trace, his eyes penetrating the scant reserve of defenses she had left. The blush immediately betrayed her and she swatted him when he chuckled.

  “Did I ever tell you, Trace Stapleton, I adore the melody your laugh sings when you are at ease with me?”

  “You did not, but I appreciate hearing it now. I can laugh all the way to Colorado Springs if you like.”

  Gen leaned her head against his shoulder and after a few jostles that threw her off, she lifted it again and looked at him. She noted the haze that covered his chestnut eyes when he stared at her. Today, she did not let it offend her.

  “You can save the shoulder feast until later. I won’t mind,” said Trace.

  Gen cleared her throat, as if that would dismiss the waves of emotion floating between them. They fell silent and she sat rigid to soften the jostling of the wagon ride.

  When she could bear the quiet no longer, she spoke. “So, what’s our next move in the case?” she whispered, knowing full well that nothing new had developed. The plan remained the same.

  “We’re still watching for Andrea to join up.”

  Trace had barely gotten the words out of mouth when he pulled the lines and yelled, “whoa,” to the horses. While stretching his head around the wagon up front, he grinned. “And I believe our late arrivals are pulling into the line-up now.”

  He was about to jump down when Simon Frezner pulled alongside. “No need for concern, folks. Just another wagon joining our ranks. We were expecting them. You can stretch your legs for ten, then we’ll be on our way again.”

  The ground felt good under Gen’s feet. One hour into the adventure and her cramped muscles were already complaining. She avoided the crowd of people that gathered around the new arrivals and walked alone. The afternoon sun was at its height and she felt like ripping off her bonnet and drenching her head with a canteen of water. She was rubbing her neck when Trace sidled up behind her. He removed her hands from her neck and proceeded to knead and rub until she swayed leisurely from the relief it brought. She felt his fingers on her waist as he rotated her around to face him.

  “My sweet Gen. I have the sudden urge to kiss you like a man kisses his wife.”

  Without a second thought, she leaned in. “Perhaps we should practice, Mr. Stapleton, for the sake of appearing authentic.”

  He did not require a second invitation. Trace pulled her into his arms and buried his mouth against hers. Her arms wrapped around his neck and she pulled him closer. She couldn’t seem to get enough, until she sensed another presence. Her eyes bolted open, and there stood her brother gawking at them.

  Pushing away she groaned, and said, “Nick Trafton, don’t you ever sneak up on me again.”

  He laughed. “I saw it with my own eyes so now I must believe the unbelievable. You actually love the bloke.”

  The last part of his remark sounded more like a question than an observation.

  Gen straightened her dress and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ears. “Of course, I do. Why else would I marry the man?”

  “That’s been my question ever since I heard of the union.” He looked at Trace and a silent challenge passed between them.

  “You mind your own business, Nick. I’m a married woman and there is nothing you can do about it.”

  “I can make you a widow,” he said never taking his eyes off Trace.

  Unbuffed by the threat, Trace took Gen’s hand in his. “Before we were distracted, my dear, I came to tell you that your brother has decided to tag along on our honeymoon trip. It seems he is traveling with Andrea Friskin.”

  Gen gasped, playing the surprise element to the maximum. “Andrea Friskin!” She stared at Nick and saw the defiance in his stance. Trace had said they were arguing at the depot but yet they still traveled together – in the same wagon? She wasn’t sure what arrangement she’d expected, but this was not it. “Aren’t you stepping a bit beyond your class, or is it still all about brotherly competition? Jethro won your childhood sweetheart fair and square and now you need to show him you can go one step higher up the social ladder.”

  “That’s harsh, Genevieve,” said Nick.

  “I’m called Gen now. Less formality is my preference.”

  “Gen,” he echoed the name, repeating it over and over again. “Sounds more like you. Good choice.”

  “My husband’s choice. He has a knack for
seeing through to a person’s real character. Perhaps you should be worried.”

  “Me, why?”

  “Because you are traveling with Andrea Friskin after leaving home so secretively. You do know that her name was in the papers as a missing person? Does that make you an accomplice or stupid in love?”

  “Slow down, sis. I’m escorting her to Colorado Springs. That’s not a crime. She paid me.”

  She recalled Trace’s description of the meeting out behind the building at the depot. Not friendly at all. “An escort?”

  “Sure, I wanted to head that direction and this was a way to get there. Simple as that.”

  “What about the baby?” asked Trace.

  Gen gasped in horror. “A baby!”

  Nick studied her. “I’m escorting both of them to Colorado Springs. Don’t make such a big deal out of it.”

  “Well, if we have to travel together, I expect you to be nice to my husband. He is my family now and you’ll not put a wedge between us.” Gen’s words were clear and undeniably defensive.

  That same boyish grin of the cat that swallowed the mouse, spread over Nick’s face. “I won’t have to. The man will bury himself and time will find you racing to cry on my familiar shoulder.”

  “Don’t count on it.” Gen lifted her skirt. “I think they are beckoning us back to our wagons. Good day to you, Nick.”

  She seized Trace by the arm and marched away, head held high, all the way to her wagon. She refused to sit in the front.

  “I’m tired, Trace.”

  It was an excuse but she didn’t care. She settled under the canvas inside and wept for the glimpse of hope she’d felt in Trace’s arms, and the cruel words spoken by her brother. Words that Trace did not defend, dispute, or deny.

  Chapter 7

  At the next rest stop, Gen climbed out and headed for the Friskin wagon. When she spotted Andrea, she called out to her.