“Pinkertons? No, I haven’t heard that.” Micah reached for his hat.
Jed slapped his knee and waggled his finger. “Have him tell you the one about Sly Sonny Sykes.” He shook his head. “That’s a good one.”
Micah headed for the door. “I’ll do that. See you in the morning, Jed.”
As he tramped down the short trail that led to his cabin, Micah puzzled over Jed’s words. His cousin hadn’t mentioned he was a Pinkerton agent. For that matter, Micah hadn’t even known where Rod was living. They’d simply lost touch.
He pushed the cabin door open and found Rod sitting on the settee with his feet propped on the hearth. His cousin turned when Micah stepped inside.
“Here’s the workingman. I thought only law enforcement officers kept long hours.” Rod swung his feet down to the floor. “I went and found a place to eat. I was starving.” He pushed off the settee and stood, pausing a moment before limping across the room. “I made some coffee. Of course, it’s Pinkerton coffee, so you might have to sift it through your teeth first. Not too many people can drink the stuff.” He took a cup from the shelf and poured some coffee into it. “You want some?”
Micah shook his head and pulled the pot of yesterday’s stew to the front of the stove where the fire burned hotter. “When my relief man, Jed, came in, he told me you’d been telling stories down at the café.” He turned to look at Rod while he stirred the pot. “You didn’t tell me you were a Pinkerton agent.”
Rod took a noisy slurp. “Uh-huh.” He pulled a chair away from the small table, turned it around, and slung his leg over the seat to sit backward. “It can be a grueling job sometimes. In the saddle for weeks at a time, going days without a meal, enduring untold hardships… but we always get our man.”
Micah cast a doubtful glance at his cousin. “I thought that was the Mounties.”
Rod shrugged. “Them, too, I suppose. But nothing stops a Pinkerton from putting his man in handcuffs. We never sleep, you know.”
Micah retrieved a chipped crockery bowl from the shelf and ladled lukewarm stew into it. He took a day-old biscuit from a cloth-wrapped plate and settled down in the chair across from Rod. He bowed his head over the simple meal. When he raised his eyes, Rod studied him.
“So, how have you been, Rod? We didn’t get much of a chance to talk when you arrived.” He broke off a piece of biscuit.
“Well, I’ve been pushing myself pretty hard. But then, I have quite a few arrests to my credit. Some outlaws think they can outsmart me, but they usually learn in the end.” He took another slug of coffee. “They put up a pretty good fight, though. That’s how I got this.” He motioned to his leg. “Doc told me I better take some time off and let it heal. Otherwise, my days of taking down the criminals might be shortened, and we can’t have that.”
Micah shoveled a spoonful of stew into his mouth and glanced down at Rod’s leg. “What happened?”
He could have sworn Rod’s chest swelled. A smirk tweaked his cousin’s lips when he leaned down and rolled up his pant leg, revealing a partially healed gunshot wound. “I was on the trail of Asa and Newell Garfield. I’m sure you’ve heard of them.”
Micah shook his head. “No. Don’t think I have.”
Rod hitched his thumbs under his suspenders. “Well, they’re two of the most bloodthirsty, notorious outlaws between here and Louisville.”
For the next fifteen minutes Rod regaled Micah with details of the dramatic account. Finally, after draining his coffee and refilling his cup, he leveled his stare at Micah. “So, even with a bullet in my leg, I brought those two in.”
Micah polished off his stew with the last few crumbs of biscuit. “Did you tell that story down at the café?”
The corners of Rod’s mouth tipped up. “I might’ve.”
“Well, it sure sounds a lot more exciting than anything that goes on around here.” Micah rose and crossed to the dry sink with his bowl and spoon. “Whitley’s a pretty quiet town.”
Rod yawned and stretched. “It’s a nice change.”
Micah pointed to the door leading to the cabin’s only bedroom. “You take the bed. I’ll bunk out here on the settee. I’m up pretty early. You can sleep late, since the doc wants you to rest and all.”
“Thanks, Cousin. I’m obliged. How about a game of pinochle?”
Micah rooted under the dry sink for his toolbox. “Sorry, I can’t. I have something I need to take care of. In case you’re already in bed by the time I return, I’ll see you… tomorrow sometime.”
The sun was dropping behind the trees to the west as Micah made his way through the gathering twilight. Still enough light by which to see, but he’d have to hurry. When he arrived at the church, he gripped the rickety front stair railing and shook it. It wobbled like a drunken man picking his way through a briar patch. He extracted a handsaw, a hammer, and small bag of nails from his box and glanced back and forth over his shoulders before starting on the quick repair. Since Reverend Lockridge injured his back a few weeks ago, some of the chores around the church had gone undone. Micah knew the pastor worried someone could be hurt if the flimsy railing gave way. He cut two support pieces from a length of scrap lumber and anchored them firmly on either side of the handrail. Then he drove more nails through the supports and into the railing upright.
Gabby lifted the globe from the oil lamp and reached for the matches when banging outside the church door startled her. Who would be knocking on the door of the church? And at this hour? She’d sought peace and quiet at the church to work on Sunday school lesson plans because her two younger brothers made so much noise. She put aside the Sunday school materials and tiptoed to peek through the shutters.
Was that Micah? He wasn’t knocking, he was hammering. And sawing. What was he doing? Then it dawned on her—that wobbly railing Papa had fretted over. Micah went about his task quickly, casting furtive glances from side to side every now and then, as if he didn’t want to be seen.
Why wouldn’t he want anyone to know he’d done a good deed and helped her father with a chore? If she opened the door and let him know she was there, would he be annoyed? Embarrassed? Somebody should thank him. She was grateful Papa had been spared from doing a job that might reinjure his back. But the longer she watched through the slatted shutter, the more convinced she became that he purposed to perform the task under the cloak of dusk so he’d not be seen.
Micah North puzzled her. He didn’t have any trouble talking to anyone else, but he seemed unwilling to have a conversation with her. And now he sneaked around the church to take care of a chore and didn’t appear to want anyone to know. She’d known Micah since they were children. But how much did she really know about him? He’d always been quiet and shy, but she suspected there was far more to Micah North than anyone had taken the time to explore.
His cousin, on the other hand, certainly exuded charm. Every time she pondered Rod Walker, however, that same feeling of unease niggled her. The man was hard to ignore, but she couldn’t dismiss the impression that God wanted her to employ caution where Rod was concerned. Still, it was flattering when such a handsome man paid attention to her.
Like Cullen did?
She shook off the thought. Her Sunday school lesson abandoned, she lingered by the shuttered window and peered through the crack. Micah shook the now-solid railing and appraised his work. He collected his tools, stuffed them into his toolbox, and hurried down the road, a mere silhouette in the gloaming.
Chapter 3
Micah sat under a shade tree in the churchyard while Cousin Rod leaned against the Brown family’s wagon and spun his tales of adventure. Several people, including nearly every unmarried girl in town, gathered around him and listened. Normally the town folk visited for a few minutes after church services before heading off to their Sunday dinner, but instead they hung on Rod’s every word. He injected drama into his tone and described the danger he faced tracking down thieves and killers. Millicent Brown stared, wide-eyed, and released a gasp when Rod illustrated h
is story. All the other girls clasped their hands under their chins or covered their mouths with dainty fingertips as Rod held them spellbound.
Micah chewed his lower lip. His life as the postmaster, telegrapher, and depot agent hardly compared with the dashing feats of a Pinkerton detective. If only he could capture Gabrielle’s attention the way his cousin managed to hook every female in town. Even Sheriff Trask and a few of the local men lingered nearby, mesmerized by Rod’s sagas.
“Oh, Mr. Walker, what a brave man you are.” Daphne Purcell fairly gushed.
“To think you put yourself in danger to protect people like me—uh, us.” Trudy Henderson twisted her fingers together and sashayed her skirts like a little girl.
Sheriff Trask rubbed the whiskers on his chin. “Mr. Walker, you say you were shot while going after the Slater brothers?” He shook his head. “They’re a bad bunch.”
Micah pulled his eyebrows into a frown. Didn’t Rod tell him he’d been shot while apprehending Asa and Newell Garfield? He pressed his lips together. He supposed it wasn’t easy to keep all the details straight when Rod dealt with so many cases.
Rod crossed his arms and puffed out his chest. “If it hadn’t been for the fact that my partner was wounded worse than me, I’d have stayed on the Slater’s trail until I brought them in. Of course, I couldn’t let my partner bleed to death, so I had to dig the bullet out of his side and get him to the closest town. His horse ran off, so I put him on my horse and I walked. Must have been near forty miles.”
Millicent Brown practically swooned. Rod peered at her, rolled his wrist to perform a sleight of hand, and produced a daisy, supposedly from thin air. He handed the bloom to her with a wink. Millicent sighed and cradled the flower in her palm while Daphne shot a menacing glare at her.
All the young ladies tittered over Rod’s charm, but Sheriff Trask hooked his thumbs in his belt. “How long ago were you on the Slaters’ trail, and where exactly was that?”
Rod shifted his weight and rubbed his wounded leg. “Well now, that was about three weeks ago. I dogged them from Lexington to Hopkinsville and then up toward Cape Girardeau. I figure they’re laying low for a while, and then they’ll head north to Canada, unless I can catch them first.”
Trask nodded. “Maybe. Outlaws like the Slaters ain’t stupid. They like to do what’s least expected. Think I’ll send a few wires out, see if any lawmen east of here have caught scent of them.”
Micah watched Rod’s reaction to the sheriff’s words and swallowed back a chuckle. His cousin’s scowl indicated Rod obviously didn’t appreciate the sheriff questioning his opinion in front of the ladies. The ladies, however, didn’t appear to notice.
Trudy sidled up to Rod, with Daphne at her heels. Her fingers intertwined and shoulders lifted in entreaty, Trudy blurted out an invitation to the church picnic. Rod took Trudy’s hand, bowed like a noble dignitary, and kissed her fingers. “Dear lady, I thank you for the kind invitation. If I am still in Whitley, it would be my pleasure….” He swept his glance from right to left. “Perhaps I’ll see all of you there.”
The girls clamored for Rod’s attention, chattering about the special dishes they planned to bring to the picnic. Micah leaned back against the tree. Every year when the annual church picnic rolled around, he imagined a dozen different ways to ask Gabrielle to accompany him. And every year, he ended up volunteering to help out in some way while watching her from afar. Self-incrimination chafed him. This year he’d put aside his stammering and lame excuses. He’d rehearse his speech and plan exactly how to approach her, and—
Gabrielle stepped down from the front steps of the church, spoke briefly with her father, and walked in his direction. Sweat broke out on his upper lip. He swallowed hard and stood, begging God to give him intelligent words to say. But Gabrielle walked past him, offering him a brief smile but nothing more. She went straight to Rod and extended her hand.
Micah gritted his teeth. If he kisses her hand…
“Mr. Walker, my father, Reverend Lockridge, would like me to extend his warmest welcome to you. Please forgive him for not doing so himself, but his back is hurting quite a bit after standing in the pulpit this morning.”
Rod grinned. “The reverend certainly sent a charming substitute.” He lowered his lips to her fingers.
Gabby’s eyes widened as Rod Walker brushed his lips across her knuckles. She hastily withdrew her hand and clasped her fingers at her waist. She’d almost suggested to her father that they invite Micah and his cousin to Sunday dinner. Judging by the way Mr. Walker held his audience captive with his stories, he’d no doubt keep them entertained all afternoon.
Despite his bold kiss, she lingered while Mr. Walker launched into another tale of his escapades. She gasped along with the other girls as he described the danger. One must certainly have to possess a heroic nature to be a Pinkerton agent. Her gaze wandered over the crowd gathered. They oohed and ahhed as Mr. Walker’s dramatic account came to a climax. Where was Micah? Did he not appreciate his cousin’s stories, or had he already heard them?
Beyond the knot of listeners, she spied him, playing Blind Man’s Bluff with two young boys, Bradley and Matthew Newberry. The two lads shrieked with delight as Micah swung his arms in their direction. He playfully peeked from beneath the neckerchief covering his eyes, inciting squeals and giggles from the pair. Gabby couldn’t help herself. Laughter bubbled up and spilled out, earning her a few quizzical looks from those encamped around Micah’s cousin, held transfixed by his adventures.
She slipped away from the group and stepped behind her own family’s modest carriage where she could observe the antics of the two brothers as they romped with Micah. Their father, Robert Newberry, made his way with slow, tentative steps down the front stairs of the church. Gabby cringed, imagining the man’s painful progress, one riser at a time, with the aid of a crutch and his wife.
Gabby’s gaze drifted back to Micah. How many adults would take the time to play with two little boys whose father was incapacitated with a broken leg? She watched Micah bend and whisper to both boys. A moment later, the two raced off into the meadow beside the church and began picking wildflowers. With the youngsters occupied, Micah stepped over to where their mother, Lucille, was helping Robert to the wagon. Despite his broken leg, the man still wanted to attend services this morning. His determination made Gabby smile, but how difficult must it be for the poor man to get around? After his perilous descent of the stairs, she couldn’t imagine how he’d climb in and out of a wagon with a broken leg.
After chatting for a few moments, Micah walked beside Robert as he hobbled with his crutch to the wagon. Then Micah stood as steady as a post while Robert braced himself against Micah’s shoulder and pushed himself up and into the wagon seat. The triumphant expression on Robert’s face nearly brought Gabby to tears as the farmer leaned down and shook Micah’s hand.
At their father’s call, Bradley and Matthew came racing to the wagon with bunches of meadow wildflowers clutched in their hands. They presented the bouquets to their mother, and Micah ruffled their hair before boosting them up into the wagon bed.
Gabby’s throat tightened. What a contrast between Micah and his cousin. Given the choice, she’d far rather watch Micah’s quiet acts of compassion than listen to Mr. Walker’s stories of derring-do.
Chapter 4
Gabby peeked over her shoulder at her father. Reverend Oren Lockridge couldn’t muffle the soft groan that escaped when he tried to pick up a stack of books he’d left by the hearth. The sound didn’t escape her mother’s notice either.
“Oren, you know what the doctor said. If you don’t rest, that sprained back is never going to get better. You even went over and repaired that wobbly railing on the church steps. What am I going to do with you?”
“Now, Miriam, stop fussing over me. I’m not an invalid, and I didn’t fix that railing. I don’t know who did, but I’m a bit embarrassed I couldn’t do such a simple task.”
Gabby wiped her hands on the dis
h towel and refilled her father’s coffee cup. She bit her lip. Should she tell her parents she knew who the secret repairman was?
“Papa, there is no need to be embarrassed. I daresay the person who fixed the railing did so because he has a servant’s heart. Isn’t that what you’ve preached?” She stood on tiptoe and kissed her father’s cheek. “You should be happy someone was listening. If you don’t listen to Mama, maybe you’ll listen to the doctor when I tell him you aren’t following orders.”
Papa’s smile turned into a grimace as he lowered himself to his favorite rocker. “All right. I can’t fight both of you.”
Gabby shot a grin to her mother. “We’ve heard that before, haven’t we?”
“Mm-hmm. The moment our backs are turned, he’ll be up doing something he’s not supposed to do.” She sent her husband a knowing look before turning back to Gabby. “Would you mind running to the mercantile before they close? I need some ribbon to make the prizes for the church picnic games.”
“Miriam, you can run your own errands. I’ll be fine.” Papa’s grousing wouldn’t change Mama’s mind, but Gabby knew he’d try. The best way to relieve his grouchiness was to change the subject.
“How is the book drive coming, Papa? Did the announcement you made last Sunday bring in any donations?”
Her ploy worked. Papa eased back against the chair’s pillow. “Yes. Three more people pledged money. We should have no trouble purchasing enough books for the next school term. However, I’m hoping to bring in enough this year so we can buy extra books to send to the missionaries on the Foxe Indian reservation.”
Mama laid her hand on Papa’s shoulder. “We’ll bring it up at the next ladies’ meeting.”
Gabby fetched her bonnet and reticule. “Mama, if I pick up a spool of ivory thread, can you help me get started on my new dress this evening? I’d like to wear it to the church picnic.”
Mama’s lips tipped into a smile. If she had any idea why Gabby wanted the dress ready in time for the picnic, she didn’t say so. “Of course, dear.”
The Most Eligible Bachelor Romance Collection: Nine Historical Romances Celebrate Marrying for All the Right Reasons Page 34