by Lori Wick
“Are you about finished, Camie?”
“Almost,” she answered, seeming relieved to get back to normal footing.
“Good. I want to talk things over during dinner.”
“Very well.”
“Am I headed out in the morning?” Pup wanted to know as the curls began to fall again.
“If we can finish your briefing tonight. You can show up any time this week and still have the job.”
“Camille said it was a clerk’s job.”
“Yes, but it’s special. You’ll be in Duncan Phipps’ bank.”
Pup smiled. She knew the name well. Nick had wanted to get a handle on this successful but shady bank owner for a long time.
“Am I gathering information or going for broke?”
“I’m not sending you in there to make an arrest if that’s what you mean, but if it comes to that I’ll welcome it. As you know, the evidence has got to stick.”
Pup didn’t do anything more than nod, but her eyes were still on her boss. There was a gleam in Nick’s eyes that Pup had seen before. It was as Camille had said; he believed he had a live one.
“You’ll be in a boardinghouse this time,” Nick said between bites of food.
An unreadable look came over Pup’s face upon this announcement, and Nick, who was drinking water from a crystal goblet, knew from experience that she was thinking. She had seemed herself through the meal, spilling her own water once and dropping her knife a few times, but now the mask had dropped over her face. It was all too easy to imagine this was the only face McKay Harrington had seen. Pup would not have felt free to be herself with McKay. The fact that she’d lit a towel on fire told Nick that she’d been partially herself, but her silence could unnerve a man. Nick knew this firsthand.
“Talk to me, Pup,” he said at last.
“I’m sure you’re not asking me to share a room, Nick, but when do I let down? If I can’t even eat my meals alone, when do I get to relax?”
Nick knew in that instant that he’d taken her for granted. She was so good at what she did—so good at stepping into a role and never slipping, at looking innocent or even dull-witted when things got hot or she was questioned—that sometimes he forgot that it was all pretense. She did need time on her own. People couldn’t pretend forever. If they could, the treasury department would never catch anyone.
“I’m sorry about this, Pup. I had Paine set it up,” Nick said thoughtfully. “I was busy with something else and just told him we needed a place for a new man. It’s my fault for not handling it and, again, I’m sorry. However, I don’t think it will be too bad. If my memory serves me correctly, you’re boarding with a mature woman who rents five rooms; she stays in the sixth. I think you’re on your own for breakfast and at noon, but you eat dinner together. It’s all men, so you don’t need to worry about anyone proposing to you again.”
Pup’s shoulders shook with silent laughter. It was funny now that it was two years past, but it had been no laughing matter when a woman who was employed next door to the bank where she was working as a male clerk fell for her and proposed. The woman had been heartbroken, and Pup had been ready to give up spying forever.
“What about the proprietress herself?”
“I think everything is aboveboard, but until I find out, you’ll stay put. Are you clear on the job itself ?”
“Yes. Did you say that you’d told Paine it was for a new man?”
“Yes.”
“Good. I don’t want to go in as Peter Crandall this time.”
This got Camille’s attention. As much as she hated to see Pup’s hair cut, she was intrigued by what the younger woman did. She leaned across the table slightly and said, “Whom are you going as?”
Pup thought for a moment. “What do you think of the name Daniels—Bryan Daniels?”
“I like it,” Camille said firmly, looking at her spouse, her eyes almost daring him to disagree.
Nick grinned at her before saying to Pup, “Where did you come up with that one?”
“I don’t know, but if I have to share even partial lodgings with someone else, I can’t go as Peter Crandall.”
“Why not?” Nick was still not catching on.
“Because Peter’s lived in this town before. I need to act differently this time. If I come across someone who recognizes the name Peter Crandall, I’ll fall under scrutiny. Bryan Daniels is new in town, he’s from the East, and no one’s ever heard of him or seen him before.”
“What are you going to do to make yourself look different?” This came from Camille.
“Those thick-rimmed glasses should do it, and I found some flashier vests the last time I was out; Peter always dresses in such dull colors.”
Sitting quietly now, Nick knew this was one of the reasons he took her for granted. It had never been necessary to tell Pup what angle to take. She had been play-acting when he met her, so any advice he might try to give would have been pure foolishness.
“Any problems?” Pup had been watching Nick’s face.
“No,” he said honestly, “I’ll let you go to it. Plan to visit here at least twice a week, preferably in the evening. You know which door to use.”
Pup nodded and smiled at Miranda, the Wallace’s cook and housekeeper, as she set a piece of pie in front of her.
“It’s nice to see you again, Mr. Crandall.”
“Thank you, Miranda, it’s nice to be here.”
There was no way the loyal Miranda couldn’t have known who she was. She’d been cleaning Pup’s room upstairs for years, the room that held her regular dresses along with a dozen costumes, some of which included beards and wigs. But she never greeted her as anyone except who she looked like. And since her hair was already cut, Pup had been forced to dress as Peter Crandall before coming downstairs. It wasn’t a problem for her really, since mentally she was already starting to fall into the role of Bryan Daniels.
Andrea Hackett, alias Peter Crandall, alias Callie Jennings, alias Bryan Daniels, could have probably enjoyed a successful life on the stage. Instead she was an agent for the treasury department of the United States of America. She could honestly say that there was very little about it that she didn’t enjoy. In fact as she was finishing a wonderful meal and contemplating sleeping in a comfortable bed tonight, she couldn’t name a thing.
11
You can talk to McKay had been some of Nick’s last words to her that afternoon. She hadn’t known exactly what he meant and hadn’t taken time to question him, but now it was all too clear. Standing in the foyer area of Mrs. Meyer’s Boarding Home for Gentlemen, Pup could see McKay at the dining table. Hoping he wouldn’t notice her, she turned slightly away and waited for Mrs. Meyer to return with the key.
“Now then, Mr. Daniels,” she said as she suddenly appeared. “We’ve just sat down to dinner. Would you care to join us?”
“N-no th-thank you, ma’am,” Pup stuttered. “I’ll j-just go to m-my r-room.”
“Of course,” she smiled kindly. “You must be tired after your train trip. You can meet the other gentlemen tomorrow night.”
“Th-thank you,” Pup said with a smile, and followed her a short way down the hall and up the stairs. She was careful to keep her face averted as she passed out of view of the dining room. McKay was going to see her—it was only a matter of time—but she wasn’t prepared. There was no way she could hope to go unrecognized—after all, he’d spent three weeks in her home. But this was her first day out as Bryan Daniels, and Pup thought it might be easier for her if it could wait even one day. She started at the bank in the morning; she would be ready by tomorrow night.
“Here we are,” Mrs. Meyer said as they stopped before a door at the far end of the upstairs hall. Pup snapped her mind back to attention as Mrs. Meyer used the key and showed her into a nicely furnished bedroom. Pup took a swift glance back out to the hall and saw a closed door across from hers before turning her attention to her own room. The room had two windows with simple blue curtains, a full bed with
a wooden headboard and a thick quilt, a washstand, a tiny stove that vented out the roof, an oak dresser, and a small writing desk and chair. Pup was pleased with the overall effect.
“Now, Mr. Daniels,” Mrs. Meyer was saying, “this room is 25 cents more a week because of the stove. Did you understand that when you read the advertisement?”
Pup nodded.
“I collect the rent every Monday evening. You can leave it on your dresser if you’re out. I clean this room on Wednesdays. I never go through my boarders’ possessions. Your things are always safe here. Does that meet with your approval, Mr. Daniels?”
“Yes, m-ma’am. Th-thank you.”
“Very well,” she beamed at him. She wasn’t a large woman—on the round side, but not what anyone would call heavy. Her face was unlined and there wasn’t so much as a strand of gray in her hair. Her smile encompassed her whole face, and she seemed genuinely pleased that Bryan Daniels was moving in. “I’ll leave you to settle,” she turned toward the door, “and expect you tomorrow night for dinner.”
“Yes, m-ma’am. Th-thank you, m-ma’am.”
“Good night,” she said cheerfully, going out the door and closing it behind her.
Pup turned in a full circle to see if she’d missed anything on the first look. It was a temptation to remove the glasses and really look around, but she had to get used to seeing through the clear glass in the frames.
The rug she was standing on was an even weave of blues, rust, and gold. It was clean and covered most of the floor. Pup walked toward one of the windows, her footsteps nicely muffled, and was relieved to see shades that could be pulled down on both windows. The windows looked out at another home much like Mrs. Meyer’s. Pup opened the closet door and found it clean and empty, save for a dozen or so hangers. Her chest rose and fell with a satisfied sigh. The room was very nice, and so was Mrs. Meyer. The close proximity of the other rooms in the hall and the community dining table in the evening, however, were going to make for some adjustments. Ah, well—her heart was pragmatic as she began to unpack her bag. Another job had begun.
Mr. David Carrie jumped up the moment Mrs. Meyer came back into the room. The other four men watched as he helped her into her chair at the head of the table. It was plain to see that he was sweet on her, and that Mrs. Meyer enjoyed the attention in return.
“The new boarder’s not joining us?” Mr. Ramsey, who also had a room upstairs, asked.
“Not tonight,” Mrs. Meyer explained. “He wants to get settled in. I’m sure the train ride was tiring.” She paused to take a sip of coffee. “He has the most dreadful stutter, poor dear. And not very old,” she added as if this should make a difference.
Mrs. Meyer did not allow smoking or gossip in her dining room or parlor, but she felt so badly for the poor man upstairs that she had to mention his stutter. The men did not comment on this but continued with their meal. Not all of Mrs. Meyer’s rules were easy to live by, such as no noise after 9 P.M. and no kitchen rights, but the cleanliness and the meal each evening were worth the rent and inconvenience.
“I’ve got chocolate cake,” she announced a moment later. “Anyone interested?”
They all were, of course, and with pride she cut large slices and passed them around. McKay’s was larger than the others.
“You’re still a little thin, Mr. Harrington,” she explained to him.
“Thank you,” he said with a charming smile as he took the offered plate. “Considering the flavor of all your cakes, Mrs. Meyer, I won’t refuse.”
She dimpled at him, wishing not for the first time that he was 20 years older. In her opinion he was the best-looking of her boarders with his dark wavy hair; square, masculine jawline; and broad shoulders. She suspected he had a girl back home in Longmont, but he never spoke of it.
Several weeks back he’d paid her double, explaining that he might be on a trip. When he’d been gone three weeks she began to worry, but someone from his office with the treasury department had come by and explained that he would be returning. The man had even paid Mr. Harrington’s rent for the following two weeks. When he finally returned late last Thursday night, he’d been so thin and weak that she’d broken her rule about kitchen privileges, allowing him to come down on Friday and through the weekend to fix meals as he needed. Now he was filling out fast and had even gone back to work Tuesday. He was one of her quieter, cleaner boarders—religious is what Mr. Ramsey had called him. Mrs. Meyer didn’t care what the reason was; she knew only she had no desire to lose him.
Ten minutes after Pup arrived at the First National Bank of Denver, she thought she had cut her hair for nothing. The head cashier, a Mr. Conway, had heard her stutter and looked at her with something akin to horror, but that was before she stuttered through an explanation of having applied for a job as a book clerk and not a teller. The relief on his face had been comical. By noon, however, he was singing the praises of Bryan Daniels.
With an amazing head for figures, Pup had worked over four different account books in the time it had taken their last clerk to do two. She stuttered painfully and acted rather shy when the big boss, Duncan Phipps, came near, but there was no criticizing the work she did.
She left the bank that evening wanting to give in to her fatigue, but she reminded herself that she had a role to play all the way through dinner. Not only that, she would see McKay—and not just see him but have to face his reaction to her as a man. That had never bothered her in the past, but then she’d never had the roles reversed this way. In the past she had been a man, telling someone she was really a woman. How would McKay react?
Pup remembered something so suddenly that she stopped in the street. How foolish of her! The department had set all of this up. Nick certainly would have told McKay that for a time she was going to be living in the same boardinghouse with him. He might even be assigned to the same bank. Pup’s step was much lighter as she finished the walk to Meyer’s. The other men were not a worry to her. Now McKay was put to rest as well.
Boulder
The cabin looked the same. McKay didn’t know why he thought it wouldn’t, except that everything had changed in his mind—and that also meant the cabin. The second thing he noticed was that things were quiet, and he wondered if she were even around. He tied the horse’s reins to a branch and started toward the steps. He’d gained only the first tier when the door opened.
“Mud!” McKay looked up with surprise. His mind briefly wondered if there might be more between Mud and Callie than it appeared.
“Hello, McKay.”
“Hello.” It was a temptation to ask what he was doing here, but McKay knew it was none of his business. “I’m looking for Callie. Is she around?”
“No. Rode out after I brought her the mail on Monday. She does that sometimes,” he added absently.
McKay’s disappointment knew no bounds. He had some things he wanted to say to Callie Jennings; he also had some questions.
“Will you be here when she gets back?”
“Only if Percy’s still driving me crazy.”
McKay nodded. “When you see her, tell her I stopped by, will you?”
“Sure. Sorry you missed her.”
“Thanks, Mud.”
McKay turned away. There was no reason to stay. He had asked Carlyle for an extra day on the weekend to visit his family, but on the train back to Boulder where he would catch his connection to Longmont, he realized he had to see Pup again. It had all been a waste of time. She wasn’t there, and in his mind nothing was resolved. He realized that he was going to have to put the last month behind him. He couldn’t keep chasing up this mountain, not even mentally, in search of a woman he hardly knew. McKay urged his mount down the mountain as swiftly as he dared. Suddenly he was eager to be home, eager to be with his family and off the job, at least for a couple of days.
Denver
“Welcome, Mr. Daniels,” Mrs. Meyer beamed happily as Pup gained the dining room. “We’re so glad you could join us.”
“T
h-thank you, m-ma’am.” Pup’s head bobbed as she got the words out, standing still in feigned awkwardness while waiting to be directed to a chair. Mrs. Meyer was standing behind her own chair as she began.
“You’ll sit second down on my right, Mr. Daniels, but first I want you to meet the other boarders.”
There had only been one man present, but as if by magic, two other men appeared at the door. They came to their seats as Pup stepped behind her own.
“Good evening, gentlemen,” Mrs. Meyer greeted them warmly. “Now, Mr. Daniels, at the foot of the table is Mr. Paul Ramsey. His room is at the top of the stairs. Next to you is Mr. David Carrie, whose room is also upstairs. Across from you, second on my left is Mr. Claude Becker. His bedroom is on this level. The empty place first on my left is Mr. McKay Harrington. His room is directly across from yours. Mr. Harrington has gone home to see his family this weekend.” The men all had brief nods or words of greeting for her, and Pup nodded to each one in turn.
The amenities out of the way, Mrs. Meyer moved to sit down. Mr. Carrie jumped over to assist her, and the meal was underway. It was a quiet group to start, but that was because everyone now concentrated on his plate. And Pup didn’t blame them. The food was delicious.
Mrs. Meyer served fried chicken, golden and lightly breaded, muffins, and fresh butter. A large bowl of whipped potatoes adorned the table, along with bowls of applesauce, green beans, baby carrots, and sugared beets. Both coffee and water were already poured and waiting at each plate. Not until dessert was set on the table did conversation begin again. Pup had never in her life coaxed a cake to rise so high, but then Mrs. Meyer cut it and she saw that it had three layers. For a moment Pup forgot where she was. Mentally she was going over her own cake recipe in the cabin in the hills. She remembered to take her eyes from the cake and fall back into her role just in time to hear Claude Becker say, “Where’d you say you work, Mr. Daniels?”
“I w-work at th-the b-bank,” Pup got out. “J-just s-started t-today,” she added almost shyly, ducking her head afterward.