by Laura Beers
The wagon jerked back and forth on the uneven road, and Audrey placed her right hand on the side of the bench for support. “If you have no friends, then whom do you rely on?”
“The only person you can fully trust is yourself,” he replied with resolve.
Turning toward him, Audrey’s eyes roamed his face. “That is a sad way to live, Mr. Rockwell.”
“Warren,” he corrected, sparing her a glance. “You will need to get used to saying my given name, since we are married and all.”
“Warren,” Audrey attempted as she tried to make it sound natural.
The smallest of smiles came to his lips. “That sounded awful.”
She placed the file on her lap again and opened it. “According to our case file, a counterfeiter is plaguing the Wyoming territory with its forged dollar notes. It was reported by a Mr. Charles Douglas, the banker of Hickory Creek.” She looked up from the file. “Per law, he confiscated the bills and sent them to the Secret Service for analysis. Unfortunately, his bank has taken a real hit since he first started discovering them over two years ago.”
“Two years?” Warren asked, glancing over at her. “Why did it take him so long to report it?”
She scanned a document. “He did report the suspicious notes to the Secret Service. However, he didn’t report his suspicions of a counterfeiter in the area until he started seeing a large influx of the forged notes,” she paused, searching the page, “which was four months ago.”
“And what do we know of the local lawman?”
“The report only lists his name, Sheriff Walker.” Surprised, by what she read, she shared, “Apparently, these counterfeit bills have appeared as far off as New York City and Texas.”
“That is quite a reach.”
“Three months ago, the agency assigned a Pinkerton agent to this case, but he is missing, presumed dead,” Audrey read. “A Mr. Meyer sent his last update from Hickory Creek, where he referenced suspicious activity in the town. After that, nothing has been received from Mr. Meyer, and it has been more than two months.”
Warren’s eyes grew dark. “Not only are we looking for a counterfeiter, but we are tracking down the person responsible for a Pinkerton agent’s disappearance.” He turned his piercing gaze to her. “Are you carrying a gun?”
“I am,” she confirmed.
“Good, you may need it,” he stated solemnly. “If someone is killing Pinkerton agents, I don’t believe they would hesitate to shoot a woman.”
She lifted a paper from the file and continued to explain their assignment. “The agency has encouraged us to use caution should we decide to identify ourselves as Pinkerton agents to local law enforcement.”
“Not yet,” Warren declared, adjusting the reins in his hands. “We won’t approach the law until we confirm they are not corrupt.”
“Surely the sheriff would not be involved in a counterfeiting ring…” Her voice trailed off when Warren shot her a look of disapproval.
“Corruption runs rampant in these small western towns,” he informed her. “Just because someone has a badge doesn’t mean you can trust them.”
“I have been fortunate not to experience that in my work with the Cincinnati Police.”
Placing an arm on the back of the carriage, he angled his body toward her. “You worked as a police officer?” he asked skeptically.
“No,” she admitted, shaking her head. “I helped with their caseload.”
“And they hired you to help with their caseload?”
Again, she shook her head. “I volunteered my time.”
Turning his gaze back toward the road, he huffed, “Running errands, filing, and getting coffee is not consulting, Audrey. It is called ‘free labor’.”
“No, it wasn’t like that,” she insisted. “The police chief was a friend of my father’s, and he…”
“Took pity on you?”
She dropped her focus to the file and decided to shift the conversation to something that didn’t make her want to kill her new husband. “We need to come up with aliases and a reason we are visiting Hickory Creek.”
“That will have to wait,” Warren said. “We are pulling into the train station now.”
As they rolled into the bustling Denver train station, a man came up to retrieve their wagon as Warren jumped off and walked to her side. She placed her hands delicately on his shoulders and allowed him to assist her off the wagon. As soon as she was on firm footing, she started walking toward the back of the wagon.
“Would you like some help with all your trunks, sir?” a man asked as he reached in to pull them off the back of the wagon.
Audrey felt like giggling when she saw Warren’s eyes go wide at the sight of her four large trunks sitting in the back. “How many trunks do you need?” he demanded.
Not taking offense, she took a step closer and informed him, “I wasn’t sure how long we would be on assignment, so I came prepared.”
Warren placed his hand on her sleeve and leaned in. “This is too much,” he said in a hushed tone. “I forbid you to take four trunks.”
Audrey felt she’d had just about enough of Mr. Warren Rockwell. “You forbid me?” she repeated, eyes wide, not wanting to believe what she’d just heard. “You have no right to forbid anything.”
He lowered his hand but made the mistake of opening his mouth. Rather than wait to be insulted again, she decided to press her point. “You and I are husband and wife, for better or for worse, and I will bring four trunks,” she said, slowly, giving her husband time to process her words.
After a moment’s hesitation, he replied, “Fine.” He reached into the wagon and grabbed his carpetbag. “But Pinkerton agents take only what they can carry.”
She arched an eyebrow. “Is that so?”
Swinging his bag over his shoulder, Warren walked past her with a triumphant grin on his face. “Good luck!” he shouted as he jogged up the stairs to the train platform.
Turning back toward the men standing by the wagon, she sighed. “We are newlyweds, and my husband hasn’t yet learned basic manners.” Reaching into the reticule around her wrist, she pulled out some coins. “Perhaps you gentlemen would like to assist me?”
Chapter 3
Waiting for the train to board, Warren stood back on the platform with his carpetbag. He couldn’t help but glance over his shoulder. It had only been ten minutes since he stormed off and left Audrey alone with her four trunks. Four trunks? Who would bring four large trunks on an assignment? That was complete insanity.
It was his job to teach Audrey how to become a Pinkerton agent, and she needed to learn that there wouldn’t always be a man to assist her. There were times she might be alone on an assignment, and it would be impossible for her to coordinate that many trunks.
He stifled a sigh. Perhaps he should go and assist her, just this once. It wouldn’t bode well for the assignment if they missed the train, he rationalized. An image of Audrey struggling to move the trunks came to his mind. Blast it! He had to help her!
However, before he even took his first step, he saw the top of a blue lace parasol just before Audrey stepped onto the platform. Besides carrying a reticule around her wrist, and the file in her hand, she had no trunks with her. Not one. Why was he given the most contrary woman to be his wife?
“Where are your trunks?” he asked as she walked closer to him.
When she stood next to him, Audrey closed her parasol before bothering to address him. “I hired those men to load my trunks for me,” she said, waving her hand at the men who were standing near the rear of the platform. When they saw her wave, the men smiled brightly at her.
He snatched her hand and shoved it down. “We are supposed to be married, and I would prefer it if my wife wouldn’t flirt with other men.”
Audrey rolled her eyes at him. “I wasn’t flirting,” she informed him. “I paid them to transport my trunks to the train,” she started to walk past him, “because you wouldn’t help me.”
“Of course, I w
ouldn’t help you,” he insisted. “You have four large trunks.”
She looked puzzled. “You do realize that is not an excessive amount for a woman.”
“It is for a Pinkerton agent,” he declared.
Leaning on the parasol, she asked, “Am I to assume that Mr. Pinkerton wishes the women in his employ to dress in an unappealing fashion? Wouldn’t that make it harder for them to blend in?”
“Fine,” he said, realizing this was a losing battle, “but you are not going to be reimbursed for the cost of loading and unloading your trunks.”
“That is not a problem.”
Just then, the conductor called, “All aboard!”
Warren grabbed her arm and led her toward the train. Once inside, he let her go as he searched for their seats in general boarding. After he located their assigned seats, a uniformed conductor brushed past him, and said over his shoulder, “If you will follow me, sir.”
Not sure why they were being singled out, he followed the train conductor to the Pullman car. After a short distance through the wider and taller car, the conductor pushed open the door to a private passenger room and stated, “I hope this will do.”
As Warren studied his ticket, he noticed that the agency had paid for a general boarding seat, not a private passenger car. “This is not…”
Audrey cut him off as she walked past him. “This is perfect,” she said, handing the conductor a few bills. “Thank you.”
The conductor nodded and disappeared back into the rear part of the train. Audrey walked further into the private room and dropped down onto the plush upholstered bench and looked back at him. “Aren’t you coming in?”
Crumbling the ticket in his hand, Warren grumbled, “What do you think you are doing?”
“Is this a trick question?” she asked, resting her feet on the other bench. “I hope it is, because I could use some entertainment.”
He stepped into the room before closing the door behind him. “Pinkerton agents do not travel first class.”
Audrey looked around the room. “Do you not like the accommodations?” she asked. “If this is about the money, don’t …”
“No, this is not about the money,” he grunted, dropping his bag onto the bench opposite her, causing her feet to bounce up. Frankly, he had never ridden in a private passenger car before. He couldn’t justify the hefty price difference. “Why is it so difficult for you to comprehend that we are attempting to blend in?”
She removed her feet from his bench, before asking, “May I ask you a question then?”
“You may,” he said, taking off his suit coat and laying it across his carpetbag. He took a moment to admire the rich, dark walnut wall coverings, and the chandelier that hung from the ceiling.
“How could we discuss the next step of our plan if we have a hundred prying ears in general boarding?” she asked expectantly.
Drats! She had a point, and that really made him mad. “Since we are here, we might as well make it work,” he said, sitting on the bench.
Opening the file, Audrey handed him a paper.
He took it and began reading aloud, “The town of Hickory Creek is a decent-sized town for the west. The town continues to thrive due to the proximity of cattle ranches, coal mines, and lumber camps. The town has two saloons, two boarding houses, one hotel, its own newspaper, a finishing school, and is a popular place to stop for weary travelers and cowboys on cattle drives.” He stopped reading and looked up. “This would make the ideal spot to smuggle in counterfeit notes to saloons and hotels, because most people who received the forgeries wouldn’t even notice.”
“True,” she agreed. “Do you suppose the counterfeiting is being done in Hickory Creek?”
“I suppose it is possible, but we must be careful not to jump to any conclusions. All we do know is that this was the last place the agent was when he made contact, and where Mr. Douglas confirmed a steady influx of counterfeit bills at his bank.”
Handing the paper back to Audrey, he continued. “We can’t rule out that Agent Meyer may have followed another lead, failing to follow the protocol to send a missive.”
“It is an interesting place to have a finishing school, though,” Audrey mused.
Warren leaned against the wall, supporting his head with his hands. “I have to assume that your parents sent you to a finishing school.”
“They did,” she replied, turning her head toward the window, but not before he caught a wistful expression on her face.
“Where are you from?” he asked, surprising even himself with that question. He was not known to engage in small talk.
“Cincinnati,” came her quick reply.
He continued to eye her carefully. “And how do your parents feel about you working for Pinkerton?”
After a long moment, she turned to face him. “My parents died two years ago, so I’m afraid I can’t speak for them.”
Lowering his hands, he gave her a sympathetic look. “We have something in common,” he expressed. “My parents died when I was young.” Why did he just share that?
“I am sorry for your loss,” she murmured, focusing back on the passing countryside.
Now he was intrigued by her lack of responses. “How did your parents die?”
“They were killed in a botched robbery attempt.” Not only were her words abrupt, but her eyes became guarded. “I would prefer it if we focused on the mission.”
He shrugged. “As you wish.”
“Should we come up with an alias for the mission? Or would you prefer just to use Rockwell?”
“It might be best if we come up with an alias for our last name,” he said, wagging his brow. “I do have a reputation as a gunslinger in the west.”
She reached over and patted his arm. “I’ll bet you do.”
Wait? Was she just patronizing him? “It’s true. Before I worked as a Pinkerton agent, I was a bounty hunter.”
“I believe you,” she said, removing her hand. “We could go by my last name, Hardwick.”
He shook his head. “No, let’s just go by something simple, like Kimball.”
“Perfect.” She smiled.
He found himself smiling back at her. “Did we just agree on something?”
“We did.”
Finding that he rather enjoyed being cordial with Audrey, he wanted to keep their conversation going. “Do you have any thoughts about our reason for showing up in this town?” he asked, despite having no real intention of using her ploy.
As she nibbled her bottom lip, Warren found himself fascinated by how full and red they were.
“What if you were an investor from the East and were looking for a coal mine or a timber company to invest in?” she asked. “After all, now that the Union Pacific Railroad has been established in Wyoming, it will only be a matter of time until the coal and timber production will explode. The railroad will make it possible for a large amount of freight to be transported to the Eastern United States now.”
Warren lifted his brow in surprise. “That’s actually a decent idea.”
Audrey smirked. “I am not just a pretty face, husband.”
Chuckling, he replied, “I can see that.”
“Don’t be too impressed,” she said, removing her gloves and resting them on her lap. “My banker just informed me that investing in coal and timber companies in Wyoming Territory would be a wise decision.”
His curiosity was piqued by what she had just revealed. “Clearly, you do not lack for income, so what motivated you to become a Pinkerton agent?”
“Would it be silly of me to admit that I was looking for adventure?”
“Yes, it would,” he replied with a bob of his head. “Being a Pinkerton agent comes with inherent risks, and you are a fool to treat it as some passing fancy.”
Straightening her spine, Audrey grew defensive. “I never said that becoming a Pinkerton agent was a passing fancy, nor am I treating it as some type of game.” She pursed her lips together. “For years, I worked behind the scene
s looking for clues, solving petty crimes, and I just…” She hesitated, clutching her gloves in her hands. “I suppose I just want to be recognized for my contributions, instead of just working behind the scenes.”
Crossing his arms over his chest, Warren proclaimed, “Well, dear, you picked the wrong profession. Pinkerton agents don’t get praised for solving cases. It is a part of the job description.”
Rather than continue to battle wits with him, she smiled weakly and spoke softly. “But at least Pinkerton agents are a part of something that is bigger than themselves.”
Audrey rested her head on the back of the bench and turned her face toward the window and closed her eyes, signaling the end of the conversation.
With her feet tucked snuggly under her, Audrey closed the file and placed it next to her. After reading through all the papers once, she read through them again to ensure that she hadn’t missed anything. Most of the papers in the file were about the history of the town and other basic details. Still, those facts might prove useful.
She glanced at Warren. His low-crowned black hat lay over his face, and he appeared to be asleep. How lucky for him to be born a man, she thought. He had the freedom to pursue his passions, and no one would judge him for his zest for knowledge.
Taking a moment to admire the hint of stubble along his strong jaw, Audrey had to admit that she had married a ruggedly handsome man… albeit temporarily. They were just partners until this assignment was over. Then, they would get an annulment and go their separate ways.
Why was an actual marriage required for this, anyway? Particularly since they were not even using their real names. A legal marriage for a fake relationship seemed completely unnecessary.
She allowed herself a little sigh. I suppose the Pinkerton Agency has rules for this sort of thing, she thought. Male and female agents working together might create awkward situations if they weren’t married. If only he wasn’t so surly. She’d enjoyed hearing him laugh earlier.