“Hello Andrea. Come visit for a minute.”
The green-eyed pampered socialite wore a common traveling dress and her hair looked disheveled. Perhaps she’d been napping too.
“You’re Grace’s sister, aren’t you?” she asked. Gen was surprised she didn’t mention Nick’s name as the reference to her family.
“Yes, I am. We were expecting to hear from you, knowing your eighteenth birthday was fast approaching. Time for a new wardrobe.”
Andrea laughed and pointed to her outfit. “As you can see, clothing is not a high priority out here.”
“We missed you at Sandy and Jethro’s wedding, but obviously you had other plans.” Gen hugged the woman. “So glad to have you traveling with us. My husband and I are on our honeymoon.”
“Who goes on a honeymoon with other people?” she asked.
“We do. It’s not safe traveling alone. The Indians are worrisome on occasion, and the countless rogues on the trails lie in wait to invade a lonely campsite built for two.”
“I suppose you’re right,” said Andrea.
“But this is the last place I expected to see you,” said Gen. “Figured you were more the going-abroad type?”
“Don’t put all debutants into a neat bundle. For me, life at the estate is like trying to fit a square peg into a round hole.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” said Gen. “Is it true you have a child with you?”
“It’s not mine, if that’s what you’re thinking. I’m on my way to meet up with my future husband, the father of the baby.”
“How wonderful! You have all this time alone to bond with the child before you arrive,” said Gen.
“It might have been perfect, until I discovered Nicolas was the one hired to accompany me. Of course, Terrance has no idea the man is obsessed with me. Your brother is not easy to shake off.”
“Have you told him that you love another?”
“Love? I don’t even know Mr. Laker. But he does promise me everything I need to start fresh where no one knows me.”
“Be careful that you’re not exchanging one prison for another. Men can say just about anything in a letter,” said Gen.
“But he’s entrusted me with his child. That speaks highly of the man,” Andrea said in his defense.
“Why was he separated from the baby in the first place?”
“His wife died in childbirth and at first he grieved and could not face the infant. The infant stayed with his grandparents. But now Terrance wants to start over fresh – with me and his son. I find it endearing.”
Gen gulped down her fears. If her so-called future husband arranged delivery of the child to Denver, why couldn’t he have brought it all the way to Colorado Springs? And why on earth would Andrea have to foot the bill for the original transportation on the train, and now hide herself on a wagon train before meeting him? It all sounded rather fishy. And what did Gen’s brother, Nick, have to do with it all?
“Would you care to walk a spell?” she asked Andrea. “We can stay close to your wagon in case the baby wakes.”
“I would love to stretch my legs.”
Gen encouraged Andrea to lead the conversation and when she hit on a subject that might provide some valuable hints as to where her head was spinning, she’d probe. Obviously, they couldn’t simply order her home halfway, kicking and screaming the entire way. What would they do with the baby? And Andrea was not in the frame of mind to face the absurdity of her mission. With Nick in the picture, Gen grew eager to see this case play out.
“Nick must care for you a lot. To not give up his pursuit despite news of your interest in another man sounds like a foolhardy chase. Why do you think he took the job to follow you to your new life?”
“Perhaps you should ask him. We don’t speak much.”
“Has he been a gentleman?”
She laughed. “Completely! The man is as righteous as they come.”
“And you don’t appreciate a man with good morals?”
“It doesn’t matter. Being with a farmer is not my goal.”
A shot rang through the air and Andrea jumped and looked around frantically.
“Probably nothing,” said Gen. “I saw the hunter go out to scare us up some meat.”
They walked close enough to the wagon that Gen could see the grimacing storm brewing in Nick’s eyes. Her unexpected presence was throwing him a curve and she could see he was trying to rearrange plans in his messed-up mind.
“Tell me about the man you wish to marry?” asked Gen.
“Well, I’ve never met Terrance face to face, but we’ve written letters. He is a third-generation sea captain who travels the country – maybe even the world - to help poor souls who can’t afford to relocate. A man who doesn’t work for monetary gain. I am so proud that he wants me to be his wife.” She paused. “As a matter of fact, this whole trip was funded by him. Didn’t want to say anything but the couples in the other wagons are in dire straits and need to make new starts elsewhere.”
“I didn’t know,” said Gen. “Your Terrance sounds like a rare kind of man.”
Gen noted the sparkle in her eye, but the hint of a shadow lurked within the swimming depths and caused her to wonder if all was as perfect as the runaway girl claimed.
Andrea confirmed it. “And you would think this lot should be grateful. The men do not appear one bit appreciative of the man paying their way. Sometimes they are down-right rude.”
“Perhaps their circumstances have made them harsh,” Gen said trying to ease her suspicions. The girl was a walking dynamite stick with a short fuse. Out of her league with this exploit.
When the baby wailed, Andrea ran for the wagon. Nick stopped to allow her to climb in the back and cast a sideways glare at his sister. “If you’re done meddling, you should return to your own problems. Don’t want to bore that new husband so early in the marriage. He doesn’t have a good record for sticking around.”
Gen never bothered to answer. She turned about face and headed back to her wagon. When Trace noticed her, he stopped the team and she climbed up beside him.
“Hello, my dear. I was getting pretty lonely back here without you.”
Her smile couldn’t help but be tainted with Nick’s final remarks still ringing in her ears. “Been talking with Andrea. It is our job to seek out clues, isn’t it?”
“Of course. And did you discover anything new?”
“The man she is planning to wed is Terrance – a do-gooder who uses his family money to transport the poor and needy around the countryside. She has only corresponded with him, never met him face to face. Appears to be growing fond of his child. Nick has told her of his feelings but she is not interested in marrying a farmer. I find her rather gullible and immature.”
“You don’t believe her story?”
“I am quite certain she believes her story. It just isn’t sitting well with me. And I suspect, with Nick either, otherwise he would never have agreed to escort the woman he loves to meet her new husband. My brother has chosen a bad time to show loyalty to a lost cause – it’s downright annoying.”
“First time I heard such a fine quality labeled as annoying,” said Trace.
“You didn’t live with him for twenty-three years.”
“Is that how old you are?” asked Trace. “How on earth did you remain single this long?”
Gen frowned at him. “I told you – obligations to the family. No man wanted that much baggage included in the marriage contract. Not to worry – I don’t give them a second thought.” Her voice became wistful. “When we became orphaned, I felt it my duty to dedicate myself to raising my sisters and feeding my hard-working brothers. And I promised my father.”
“A very noble sacrifice.”
“Not at all. One does what’s needed,” Gen said.
“And do I fall into that bracket? You needed to escape and I was the first offer?”
“I suppose that is the way it happened,” said Gen, squirming under his observant eye. “But we
are managing our agreement well, don’t you think?”
His silence pierced her heart. He hit the backs of the horses with the lines and they picked up the pace. For supper that night, she warmed beans over the fire and Trace returned with a bowl of meat that the hunter cooked for everyone. They ate in silence and finally when darkness overcame the day, she broached the subject neither of them spoke of, but one that divided them like a wall.
“How will we manage our sleeping arrangements?” she whispered.
“I’ll sleep on the ground under the wagon. Wouldn’t be the first time.”
“But what will people think? We are on our honeymoon.”
“Is that an invitation to share your bed?”
“Of course not,” she said. “I’m just trying to play the role you created by saying this was our honeymoon trip.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll make it work and you can save your honor.”
Gen sighed, not knowing whether she wanted it saved or not. Trace was such a complex person. Just when she thought she had him figured, he’d shut her out. “Well, goodnight then.” She headed for the wagon and prepared for bed. As she started to crawl under her blankets on the straw mattress Trace had found for her, she heard voices. She strained to listen.
“Surprised to see you sitting out here alone. Having a spat with the wife?” Nick asked.
“Not used to going to bed so early, that’s all,” said Trace.
A long silence followed and Gen could feel the tension building outside. Perhaps Nick had moved on and decided not to create trouble. Her ears perked. No such luck.
“Don’t think you’re fooling me, mister. And don’t think I’ll not be on your back until you prove yourself worthy of my sister.”
“Let’s get it out in the open. Just what do you think you know about me that makes me an unworthy husband?”
“Does Cheyenne ring a bell?”
Silence again and Gen found herself holding her breath and so wishing she could see Trace’s expression right now.
“Were you there, or is this a here-say report?”
“I was making a deal in the next town over and read it in the paper. The case made front page.”
“So, you know I am a Pinkerton agent,” Trace said. “Still not sure how that makes me unworthy for a brother-in-law.”
“Your female partner was also a detective. Isn’t that the way it works in the agency?”
A pause then Trace answered. “Usually, but I surpassed the system and took Gen as my wife because I love her.”
“The same way you loved the first one whom you watched the bank robber gun down in cold blood? Or maybe number two, who couldn’t bear to be with you another day and ended your marriage?”
The nagging fear of her partner not being able to protect her against the villains of their world resurfaced. She wanted to believe she was strong enough to combat evil when it came her time to face it, but she’d lived such a sheltered life at the farm. Gen doubted her bravery, and when it attempted to overtake her peace of mind, she cast it away with the determination of a single-minded agent in training, sworn to stand by her partner. She’d stand firm in her decision.
Gen called out. “I’m ready, Trace. You can come to bed now.”
She heard the sizzle of the fire being put out and Trace’s reply. “Be there in a minute, sweetheart. Just saying goodnight to your brother.”
No further words passed between the two men and soon she watched as the back flap on the wagon opened. Trace stepped in and stared at Gen; the covers pulled up to her chin.
“Thought you needed rescuing from the verbal attack,” she simply said.
“Appreciate it. Don’t think your brother needs to know my business.” He grabbed a blanket and stretched it out by the door. She tossed him a straw pillow he’d made for her comfort. “Take this.”
“Thanks.”
“Trace, do you consider it none of my business as well? Should I know about the circumstances surrounding the fate of your first two wives?”
“I’ve told you everything you need to know.” His voice was curt and he turned his back to her. “Goodnight, Gen.”
Chapter 8
The next day Gen prepared their breakfast, then washed and packed the supplies back in the wagon. Trace returned just as the trail-master shouted. “Time to move out, folks. Got miles to travel today if you want to make Colorado Springs on schedule.” His laugh held an eerie tone Gen did not like.
“Will we be staying with this group for the duration of the trip?”
“Don’t reckon this bunch will ever reach the final destination.” He helped her onto the boarded seat before climbing in the driver’s side next to her.
When the wheels started to turn, Gen spoke. “Have you learned anything new, Trace?”
“Nothing definitive. Talked in circles. But I did overhear the fellows arguing over the take – whatever that is. Seems some are throwing their greedy weight around with threats.”
“Do the cowboys put up their guard when you’re present?”
“Sure do. Not too friendly to the honeymooners who joined up at the last minute. We are unwanted outsiders.”
“Then why would Mr. Scott let us ride with them? It doesn’t make sense.”
“That remains an interesting question, my dear,” said Trace.
“Maybe we’re the scape goats for whatever is going down here – ever think of that?” asked Gen.
“I’m hoping that is not the case, but we’ll remain on guard just the same.”
“These couples were supposed to fall under the definition of poor and needy,” said Gen. “Even Andrea senses the contradiction and is not comfortable with the bunch of riff-raff that Terrance agreed to support for the trip.”
“These blokes are far from poor and needy, Gen. There’s trouble afoot, and we are smack dab in the middle of it.”
“Where we should be,” grinned Gen, the twinkle of the adventure flashing in her eye.”
He squeezed the limp hand on her lap. “We’ll need to watch our backs. Not sure who to trust,” said Trace.
“Even Nick?”
“Especially Nick.”
Gen had hoped her idea of her brother being stupid in love was the reason he’d agreed to escort the woman to her fiancé. “That would leave only you, me, and possibly a naïve Andrea as the only ones not involved in this – whatever this is.”
Trace squeezed her hand and his fingers lingered there. “Your gun is still in your handbag, right?”
“Yes.”
“Carry it wherever you go, and don’t be afraid to use it. You wanted adventure, my dear. I’m afraid we may see it out here in the wild. No lawman is coming to our rescue.”
“It is what I signed up for. Don’t worry about me.”
“For now, we’ll lay low and watch for things out of the ordinary.”
It didn’t take long. The trail-master yelled out a shout for the wagons to pull up. It was too early for lunch and Gen felt Trace tense in his seat.
“Is Simon Frezner trailing us?” Trace asked.
She looked behind. “Can’t see him.”
“I’m going to stop and you are going to take your bag and disappear into the trees off to the right. Do it quick and don’t let anyone see you. Hide there and let’s see about this little stop before you show yourself again.”
“But we’re a team.”
“Do as I say. You’ll not be dying today, Mrs. Stapleton.”
Gen witnessed the panic in his eyes and nodded. “Fine.” She gathered her skirt so as not to trip, and as soon as the wagon stopped, she slid from the seat and raced toward the trees. A few feet in, she noted a thick bush and snuggled inside. She could hear the commotion and loud voices and she spent the time praying for Trace. That surprised her the most. She felt concern for Nick but terror to think she might lose her husband.
The job she’d signed up for was dangerous – she knew that. Gen drew herself up sharp, forcing her mind to focus. This was her chance
to shine and prove she was a valuable asset to the agency and Trace. First came a scream from Andrea, then a gunshot. The baby exploded into hysterical howling. Gen was at a disadvantage and was about to crawl from her hiding place when she heard a voice growl at Trace.
“Where’s your woman?”
“We had an argument. She stormed off after breakfast. As mad as she was, she’s probably half way home by now.”
“You expect me to believe you let your wife walk back.”
“She’s resourceful. She’ll find a stray horse somewhere along the way.”
“And you just let her go?” the voice asked. “Why does that story just reek with deceit?”
“I don’t care what you think. She’s headstrong. I’m better off without her.”
Even hearing him say the words wounded her soul and lodged in her heart. She knew he was lying to protect her, but what if he meant it somewhere deep inside. It spewed from his lips so freely. If it were her, she’d have invented a different coverup. She’d heard from the pulpit that the mouth speaks from the heart – she’d so hoped his was more in tune with hers. Gen was falling for the man and could do nothing to stop it.
“I don’t believe you.” The man shouted into the morning air, loud and clear, and it reached Gen like a sword to her soul. “I’ve already shot your brother, Mrs. Stapleton. My pistol is aimed at your husband’s head right now. I’m going to count to ten before I pull the trigger. Don’t test me, lady, cause I ain’t got no schooling – ten is the highest I can count.”
“One,” then silence.
“Two.” Gen scrambled from her hiding place and hurried to a split in the trees to peer out.
“Three.” Sure enough, Trace stood in the clearing with the barrel of a gun resting against his temple. A leering rogue she did not recognize from the travelers was next to him, his greasy hair gleamed in the sunlight and the space his two missing front teeth created revealed the darkness of his soul.
“Four.” Trace’s expression was devoid of fear, but provided no signal for her to act upon. Men gathered all around, laughing and throwing down bets. They were gambling on her decision, making death a joke.
An Agent for Genevieve Page 6