Something shiny caught her eye. “Are those new boots?” She leaned over for a better look. “Is that a rose?” She couldn’t believe it. “You let Miss Lillian talk you into buying new boots?”
“Three pairs,” he said.
“What!”
He flashed a sheepish grin. “I’m good, honey, but not that good. Five days of listening to Miss Lillian’s sales pitches made hay out of this cowboy’s resistance.”
She threw back her head and laughed. “I’m just surprised she didn’t talk you into singing lessons.”
“Eh.”
“What? Oh no, don’t tell me.”
For answer he opened his mouth and serenaded her all the way to the train station.
Discussion Questions
If every man was as true to his country as he is to his wife—God help the USA.
—Needlepoint in a San Francisco brothel, 1891*
1. Jennifer/Amy didn’t expect to find God in a bordello. Can you think of a time in your life where you found God where you least expected?
2. Posing as a woman of easy virtue was the hardest job Jennifer ever encountered. Not only was she forced to dress in a way that went against her Christian beliefs, she also had to keep quiet about God. How do you think this challenged or strengthened her faith?
3. Jennifer’s disguise made her feel like she was an outsider and not welcome in polite society or even the church. Have you ever felt alone and isolated? How is the best way to reach out to someone who might feel like this?
4. Denial is a powerful coping mechanism. Rather than face the fact that she was a brothel owner, Miss Lillian surrounded herself with various legitimate enterprises and insisted she was in the hospitality business. Denial can help us cope with distressing situations, but it can also keep us from receiving God’s healing grace. What are some of the ways that we can recognize and deal with denial in ourselves and others?
5. Jennifer believed that everyone had a personal north stemming from a childhood trauma or early memory. Her personal north was the night her sister vanished. Buttercup’s personal north was the day she was robbed of her innocence. What are the dangers of letting earthly matters become our compass? What are some of the ways that we can make God our one true north?
6. Who was your favorite character and why?
7. Tom wanted to believe that his brother had changed. Do you believe it’s possible for a person to change? Why or why not?
8. Which character underwent the biggest transformation during the course of the book?
9. Do you think Coral has it in her to change? What do you think it will take?
10. Jennifer spent years searching for her sister. It’s why she became a detective. In what ways do you think this quest kept her from finding true love? How do you think the story would have ended had Jennifer not found Cissy?
11. In what ways did staying at Miss Lillian’s help Jennifer unlock the mystery of her sister’s disappearance?
12. Did you agree with Jennifer’s choice not to tell her sister the truth about the past? Why or why not?
13. In what ways did God work through Jennifer to change Miss Lillian and her girls?
14. Birds hold a valuable key to the mystery, but they are also a metaphor for faith. As one character puts it, God gave birds the gift of flight because they have perfect faith. What are some of the things we can do to perfect our own faith and move closer to the Lord?
15. A writer finds inspiration in the most unexpected places. Upon watching a group of young children of all nationalities hold hands in unity and joy, I wanted to re-create the scene in my book. When the women clasped hands, the walls separating them from God and each other came tumbling down—a “Jericho” moment. Name a Jericho moment in your life.
*The needlepoint quote was published in Pistol-Packin’ Madams by Chris Enss.
Dear readers,
After reading about the first known female detective, Kate Warne, the idea for my Undercover Ladies series popped into my head.
Kate worked for the Pinkerton National Detective Agency from 1856 to her death in 1868. Since women were not allowed to join the police department until 1890, the firm’s founder Allan Pinkerton was well ahead of his time in hiring her. Originally, he thought she was applying for a secretary job, but she convinced him to hire her as a detective.
Quick to see the advantage of female detectives, he put her in charge of the Pinkerton Female Detective Bureau. Formed in 1860, the purpose of the female division was to “worm out secrets” by means unavailable to male detectives. She also managed the Pinkerton Washington department during the war.
Little is known about Kate’s early life. She was supposedly a widow when Allan Pinkerton hired her, which may or may not be true. Her job was often to elicit sympathy and therefore confessions from the criminal element, and widowhood might have been part of her charade.
No known photos exist of her, but Allan described her as a “brown-haired woman, graceful of movement and self-possessed.”
A master of disguise, Kate could change her accent as readily as she could change her appearance, and her “Southern belle” disguise helped save president-elect Abraham Lincoln’s life.
After verifying a plot to assassinate him, Kate wrapped Lincoln in a shawl and passed him off as her invalid brother, thus assuring his safety as he traveled by train to Washington, DC. Kate never slept the whole time Lincoln was in her charge. This may or may not have been the inspiration behind the Pinkerton logo: We never sleep.
Since the Great Chicago Fire of 1871 wiped out Pinkerton records, little is known about those early days. What is known is that Kate caused trouble between Allan and his son Robert. The two argued over Kate’s expenses, which Robert thought were excessive. He didn’t think it right for the company to pay for his father’s “sordid affair.”
There’s no question that Allan cared deeply for Kate, but biographers are split on whether there actually was an affair. What’s not in question is Kate’s reputation as an excellent detective; her trailblazing efforts helped the Pinkerton Detective Agency rise to fame.
I hope you enjoyed reading Jennifer and Tom’s story. The next book in the series, Undercover Bride, is a mail-order bride story with a twist. You can also find me on Facebook, Twitter, Pinterest, and Goodreads.
Until next time,
Margaret
Undercover Bride
Coming Summer 2015!
Enjoy this sneak peek….
Arizona Territory
1882
Maggie Michaels spotted the thief the moment she stepped off the Southern Pacific train and onto the open-air platform.
As a Pinkerton operative she’d dealt with her share of pick pockets through the years, but this one put the profession to shame. He made no attempt at discretion; he simply bumped into a male passenger and walked away with the man’s gold watch.
Normally Maggie wouldn’t hesitate to pursue the culprit, but today she had bigger fish to fry. Chasing after a third-rate thief could jeopardize months of work and careful preparation, and she couldn’t take the chance.
That is, until he appeared to target a young mother with three small children. Maggie changed her mind. He had to be stopped.
Threading her way through the crowd, she reached the woman before the thief and picked up the drawstring handbag she’d carelessly left next to a carpetbag.
“Your purse, ma’am. There are thieves around. Better keep an eye on it.”
The harried mother took the bag from her. She looked no older than nineteen or twenty. “Thank you,” she murmured as if thieves were the least of her problems.
Satisfied that the pickpocket’s latest attempt at larceny had been thwarted, Maggie pushed him from her mind and swung her gaze over the crowd. Never before had a new assignment filled her with such anxiety. But then again, never had she attempted such a daring venture.
Would she recognize the suspect on sight?
According to Pinkerton files, Garrett Thomas
Though he was suspected of committing a daring train robbery, his most notable achievement was evading Pinkerton’s best detectives for nearly two years. We’ll see how long your luck holds out this time, Mr. Thomas. Eventually even a cat runs out of lives.
After checking that her feathered hat was angled just right, she pushed a strand of auburn hair behind her ear and smoothed the bun at her nape. Her wardrobe had been chosen with utmost care, and her demeanor meticulously polished.
The goal was to look fashionable but not ostentatious: to act domesticated without appearing dull. At all times she had to be charming, well-spoken, and industrious. In matters of politics, religion, and finances she must take care not to express a contrary view as she was often inclined to do. In other words, she had to look and act like a woman that any man would be proud, and indeed, anxious to wed.
Given her somewhat opinionated and independent spirit, curtailing her impulsive nature would be her greatest challenge. She couldn’t afford to do or say anything without careful consideration of the consequences. Not this time.
Not only did she have to make a good impression, but one that would throw no suspicion her way. “Dazzle Thomas with your charm and good looks,” Mr. Pinkerton had said, “and he won’t suspect a thing.”
She was hot and she was hungry and, more than anything, travel-weary. In her current state she’d be lucky to dazzle a horsefly.
Despite the desert heat she donned her kid gloves and smoothed the wrinkles from her blue, velvet-trimmed suit. Steam hissed across the platform and passengers sidestepped the misty blast.
A barefoot boy of about nine or ten raised a folded newspaper in the air and yelled something about a fire. “Readallaboutit!”
A man bumped into her and almost knocked her off her feet. Regaining her balance, she pivoted just in time to see the same thief she’d spotted earlier snatch the paperboy’s money bag and dart into the crowd. The nerve! It wasn’t bad enough trying to steal from a young mother, but a child!
The youth’s face turned red. “That man took my pouch!” His eyes brimmed with tears though he tried not to let them fall. “Now I gotta pay the money back.”
Maggie hesitated. If only the boy didn’t look so needy. His tattered shirt was a size too small, and his threadbare trousers fell six inches short of his dirty bare feet. “Stay here!” she said and took off after the robber.
The thief moved at a good clip, but the crowded platform and a limp kept him from altogether running. His long, dark coat was more suitable for cold weather, and it made him stand out among a crowd dressed mainly in gingham dresses and boiled white shirts.
Something was wrong with his left leg and he dragged it along, toes pointing away from his body. She’d almost caught up to him when a dark-skinned porter pushed a cart of baggage in her path, momentarily blocking her way.
By the time the cart moved, the pickpocket had vanished. She ran to the end of the platform and immediately spotted him lumbering along the railroad tracks. Had he been physically able to run, she might have given up the chase, but he looked like an easy mark.
Jumping to the ground, she raised her skirt above her ankles and took off after him. Here I go again. Tossing common sense to the wind. But she couldn’t seem to help herself. Not where children were concerned.
Running on the gravel in high-button shoes and a straight skirt wasn’t easy, but she quickly gained on the man. She just hoped he didn’t force her to pull out her pistol.
No more than a couple of yards separated them when the heel of her boot caught on a wooden railroad tie. All at once her feet flew from beneath her. Arms and legs windmilling, she fell facedown on the ground.
The wind knocked out of her, she fought to gather her wits. Now look what she’d done. Grimacing, she ever so slowly pushed up to her feet and squinted against the hot, blazing sun. On the left side of the tracks a bleak desert stretched for as far as the eye could see. Since the thief was nowhere in sight, he probably ducked through the adobe brickyard that paralleled the tracks on the right.
What kind of town was this anyway, that a man could steal from a young boy in plain sight and get away with it?
Gritting her teeth, she stared down at her stylish blue traveling suit now covered in dust.
She brushed herself off with quick angry swipes and straightened her feather hat. When would she ever learn? One impetuous moment could jeopardize six months of careful planning.
The sound of crunching gravel made her whirl around. A tall, broad-shouldered man stood but a few feet away, staring at her with eyes the color of a deep blue sea.
“Is everything all right, ma’am?”
Her mouth fell open and her hand flew to her parted lips. The red scar slicing down the side of his handsome square face told her he could be no other than the suspect Garrett Thomas. The man she had traveled all this distance to wed.
Bestselling author Margaret Brownley has penned more than thirty novels. Her books have won numerous awards, including Readers’ Choice and Award of Excellence. She’s a former Romance Writers of America RITA finalist and has written for a TV soap. Happily married to her real-life hero, Margaret and her husband have three grown children and live in Southern California.
www.margaret-brownley.com
Also Available from Shiloh Run Press
Petticoat Detective
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