An Agent for Rosalie

by Laura Beers

  Rosalie followed behind but remained far enough away to avoid detection as the boy ran toward the edge of town. Although, it didn’t seem to matter because the young boy didn’t even bother to look behind him to see if he was being followed. Apparently, this boy was not used to a life of crime.

  The boy darted across the main road and ran in the door of a small building that read ‘The Barlow Dispatch & Grizzly’s Peak Express’. A large barn was attached to the staging station, and she could hear laughter coming from within. Retrieving her pistol, she crept closer to the barn and peered through the open door. Two teenage boys were standing on the hayloft, throwing hay at each other, making it abundantly clear that they were not a threat.

  Turning her attention back toward the staging station, Rosalie approached the open window and heard muffled voices inside. She couldn’t make out the boy’s low voice, but she heard a man exclaim, “Pinkerton agents! Are you sure?”

  Hearing enough, she pushed open the door and pointed her revolver at the man. He was no older than she was, but he was a good foot taller than her. His shirt sleeves were rolled up to above his elbows, the top two buttons of his shirt were undone, and his suspenders held his trousers up. Rosalie’s first thought was that he didn’t fit the look of a criminal mastermind.

  “Why was this boy spying on the sheriff?” she asked in a direct tone.

  The man stepped in front of the boy, shielding him from her, telling her everything that she needed to know. This was not their suspect.

  He put his hands in front of him. “You are the Pinkerton agent?” he asked in amazement.

  “I am,” she replied, seeing no reason to deny it.

  The man opened his mouth and closed it. Finally, he spoke, “But you are a woman.”

  “Thank you for noticing,” she remarked dryly, lowering her pistol to her side.

  The man rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. “I apologize. I am going about this all wrong, ma’am. I asked Ryan to listen in on your conversation. It was my fault.”

  “Again, why?” she asked, taking in the small room with a ticket counter and a bench in the corner.

  “My name is James Murray, and I am the station keeper here in Shelbrook,” he said, not wavering from his position. “After the last shipment of gold went missing, I knew it was only a matter of time before the Pinks were called in.” He wiped his hand over his jaw. “I know I must be a suspect, but I swear to you that I would never steal from the company.”

  “Your actions say otherwise,” she pointed out as the young boy stepped out from behind James. “You asked a young boy to spy on us.”

  “He didn’t ask. I offered,” the boy declared.

  James looked at the boy fondly and shook his head. “Either way, I shouldn’t have allowed you to,” he said.

  Rosalie shifted her gaze back to James. “If you are innocent, then why are you worried about Pinkerton agents investigating the crime?”

  Laughter floated through an opening that divided the barn from the staging area, and Mr. Murray shifted his gaze toward the noise while explaining, “There are very few of us who know about the gold. I’m one of them. But, if I lost my position here, then all these boys would be out of a job. I wouldn’t risk that for nothing.”

  She observed James, his eyes flickering uncertainly under her scrutiny, but her instinct already told her that he was telling her the truth. Criminals were inherently selfish, and this man was not.

  “I believe you,” she said in a matter-of-fact tone, holstering her pistol.

  James let out a relieved breath. “That’s great news. Thank you!”

  Ryan took a step closer to her and pointed at her revolver. “Is that the gun that you used to stop the bad guys that tried to rob the stagecoach?”

  Placing her hands on her legs, she leaned closer to the boy. “Not this time. I used a shotgun to stop those road agents.”

  “I want to be a Pinkerton agent when I grow up,” Ryan declared, standing a little taller.

  “I think that is a fine idea.” Rising from her position, Rosalie asked James, “Aside from yourself, who else knows about the gold shipment?” She already knew the answer, but it was always best to start at the beginning.

  “That’s the thing. The gold box gets picked up about fifty miles south of here, along with the mail. The staging coordinator, ticket collectors, drivers, and shotgun messengers all know about the gold shipments. In addition to the lawmen and the banking staff that signs off on the deposit.”

  “Who specifically in Shelbrook knows about the gold?”

  “Mr. Tuttle, Mr. Holmes, Sheriff Walton, and Deputy Charlie,” James listed.

  Rosalie considered his words for a moment. “Do you have any reason to suspect one of those men is working with Bill Garrett?”

  His eyes went wide. “Bill Garrett is behind this?” He groaned. “This is a small town, and there is nothing questionable about the character of those men. Besides, none of them are stupid enough to team up with that murderer.”

  “James has a crush on Emeline Holmes,” Ryan announced, unexpectedly, with a smile.

  Lifting her brow at the abrupt change in subject, she asked Mr. Murray, “Is that true?”

  Running his hands along his suspenders, James wore a look of bashfulness. “I am working up the nerve to ask to court her.”

  Ryan laughed. “He goes into the restaurant and makes lovey-dovey eyes at her.”

  “I wish you luck with that,” Rosalie said, grinning.

  “Can you offer me any advice, seeing as you are married and all?” James asked hesitantly.

  That’s right. She was married. “I am not the best person to seek advice from. It is a recent development, actually.” Rosalie grew serious. “My husband and I are staying at the hotel. It’s best if we are not seen together until this investigation is over. If you need to pass along any information, then send Ryan, and we will coordinate a time to meet.”

  “I wish I had any more information that could help the case.”

  “Don’t worry. The investigation has only just begun, and I have succeeded with far, far less than what you gave me,” she replied confidently.

  “You have?” Ryan asked in awe.

  She nodded, and a smile came to her lips. “Yes, and I always catch the bad guy.”

  “And you just believed him?” Paden asked in an incredulous tone.

  Sitting next to him on the yellow upholstered settee in their hotel room, Rosalie replied, “I did. He’s not our man.” She had changed out of her blouse and trousers and replaced it with a blue striped, high-necked gown with ruffles along the collar.

  They’d gone down to the restaurant in the hotel for a light supper, but it was crowded so they didn’t have an opportunity to converse as freely as he would have liked. It wasn’t until they came back up to their room that she’d started telling him about the conversation with James Murray.

  “How can you be so sure?”

  “Instinct,” she stated firmly.

  He sighed. “All right.”

  “All right?”

  “Yes, all right. I trust you.”

  Rosalie eyed him with suspicion. “What game are you playing?”

  “No game, I promise,” he said, grinning. “After witnessing what you are capable of today, I have no issue with trusting your instinct.”

  A pleased smile came to her lips. “Thank you, Paden. That means a lot.”

  He shifted in his seat, angling toward her. “I was wrong about what I said back in the sheriff’s office,” he started, watching her smile dim. “I am sorry for even asking you that question.”

  “It was a fair question, considering how much I’ve changed over the last few years. But I would never have resorted to that tactic to capture a suspect.”

  “I know that, and again, I am sorry.”

  Rosalie’s gaze darted toward the window at the sound of glass shattering in the distance. It was quickly followed by a drunken melody.

  Paden reached out
and clasped her hand. “How did you learn all your new tricks?”

  “Tricks?”

  “Acrobatics, sharpshooting from the roof of a moving coach… do I need to go on?” He smiled.

  “My father taught me how to shoot. I’m proficient at the shotgun, but I prefer my revolver. A derringer is only accurate at close range, but it’s small enough to hide in my corset.”

  Paden cleared his throat as he fought back the urge to ask to see where the derringer was stashed. Rosalie may be his wife, but in name only. He would have to do a lot more convincing before this marriage would become real.

  “What about the acrobatics?” he teased.

  “I must confess that I have never jumped on top of a moving carriage before. That was a new experience. I didn’t think about it, I just reacted.”

  He hesitated, attempting to formulate his next words carefully. “When did you start just ‘reacting’?” She frowned, so he rushed to add, “I just mean that you always used to analyze both sides of an argument before making a decision. You never used to do anything without planning it first.”

  “I’ve been trying to tell you that I have changed—”

  Paden interrupted her. “You misunderstood me. I am not criticizing. I’m just trying to make sense of the new you.”

  Looking down at their entwined hands, Rosalie started slowly, “After I first left, I wandered from town to town looking for any information about Bill Garrett and his gang. I had learned that they had disbanded after killing my father, but most of them still resided in the Colorado Territory.” She licked her bottom lip as she paused her story. “When I arrived in Hope Springs, I saw Mitch Weston coming out of a saloon.”

  “Mitch Weston? He was crazy.”

  Her eyes twinkled with merriment as she revealed, “I pulled out my revolver and walked right up to him. I pointed my gun at him and told him that he was under arrest for the murder of Sheriff Addis. Then I asked him nicely to proceed to the sheriff’s office.”

  Paden lifted his brow. “That worked?”

  “No,” she replied with a shake of her head. “Mitch just laughed and told me to go home.”

  “What did you do?”

  “I kept my gun pointed at him and watched as he walked off into the night,” she confessed. “I knew I wasn’t going to shoot him in the back, and I couldn’t overpower him. That’s when I realized I had to come up with a different plan to capture him.”

  Paden moved closer to Rosalie and draped his left arm on the back of the settee. “Which was?”

  “I had to outsmart him, which turned out to be very easy. He would show up to play cards in the saloon around five in the evening and would be roaring drunk by ten. One night, I waited outside as the saloon closed and offered to walk him back to his room at the boarding house.” Rosalie giggled. “Instead, I walked him right into a jail cell.”

  “That was ingenious,” he remarked.

  “Most of the time, I would befriend the mother or girlfriend of a suspect and lay in wait for them to make a mistake. It was long, grueling work, but it usually paid off.” Rosalie leaned back against the settee. “There were times that I could plan out the proper course of action, but then there were times that I just had to react. I discovered that I was quite good on my feet.”

  “How many people did you round up?”

  “About thirty,” she answered. “My main focus has always been on Bill Garrett and his gang, but along the way, I arrested other criminals that crossed my path.”

  Taking his left hand, Paden started trailing his finger along the curvature of her neck. “I was proud of you today. Your actions saved our lives.”

  “I doubt that. You held your own as well.”

  His finger moved up to run along her cheek. “For what it’s worth, I know your father would have been proud of your heroic actions.”

  “You think so?” she asked in a timid voice.

  Bringing his face closer to hers, he replied, “I know so.”

  Rosalie’s eyes roamed his face until they landed on his mouth. Needing no further invitation, he pressed an ardent kiss on her lips. He leaned back, hoping he hadn’t misread the situation, and was pleased her eyes were still closed.

  “Rosie,” he whispered just before he claimed her lips again.

  This time, Paden kissed her softly and tenderly before he deepened the kiss. He attempted to remain in control of his emotions, but with every touch, every kiss, he became more undone. Rosalie had always had a hold over him, and he had never minded… not one bit.

  Rosalie pulled him closer, and he came all too willingly. His lips left hers and started trailing kisses down her neck. Paden heard her say his name in a breathless tone, and he knew it was time to stop. Not that he wanted to. But it was the right thing to do. Blast it!

  Leaning back, Paden took a moment to admire how Rosie’s black lashes fanned out on her silken cheeks. She opened her eyes slowly, the look of desire turning into confusion.

  “We should head for bed. It will be a long day for us,” he said, attempting to keep his voice steady.

  Rosalie’s eyes fixed on the bed. “What are the sleeping arrangements?”

  Feeling a need to tease her, he began, “We could share a bed…” He paused when her eyes grew wide, and he suppressed the urge to laugh. “Or I can sleep on the small, hard, dirty settee.” He shuddered for dramatic effect.

  “Why don’t you take the bed? I can sleep on the settee,” she offered.

  Paden leaned in and kissed her cheek. “I am teasing you, darling. I already planned to sleep on a pad near the window.” He rose from his seat and adjusted his vest. “I will wait outside the door until you have readied yourself for bed.”

  “Thank you.” Her words may have been simple, but he could hear the gratitude in her voice.

  Paden excused himself from the room and leaned back against the floral-papered wall in the hallway. He hadn’t planned to kiss her so soon, but he found he couldn’t help himself.

  He was pleased that Rosalie had reacted so favorably. Perhaps convincing her to stay married to him wouldn’t be as hard as he thought.

  Chapter 7

  Rosalie stood outside the mercantile and watched as her father stepped out of his office across the bustling main street, the sun reflecting off the badge pinned to his black jacket. His commanding presence was in stark contrast with the easy smile that he flashed at the young school-aged children running down the boardwalk.

  Sheriff Addis took a step onto the road, bypassing wagons and horses tied to posts, and tipping his hat politely at the townsfolk.

  “Hello, my favorite girl,” he greeted her before kissing her on the cheek. “Did you find everything you needed in town?”

  “There was a large assortment of material today, and I purchased enough to make a new dress.”

  “That sounds like it will keep you busy for the next few days,” he joked, extending his arm toward her. “I wonder what my deputy will think of that.”

  She grinned. “I am hoping he likes it, because I am making the dress for the barn raising next week.”

  Her father chuckled. “I need to speak to the mayor…”

  A gunshot rang through the air. Her father’s shoulder jerked back. “Get out of here, Rosie!” he shouted, shoving her toward the safety of the buildings.

  Another shot rang out, forcing her father to stagger back. Reaching for his gun, a parade of shots came from further down the road. Rosalie stood frozen, unable to move. Then, she felt a searing pain in her left leg which caused her to collapse to the ground. She vaguely saw Mr. Tanner run out of his shop before he placed his hands under her arms and dragged her toward the safety of the alley.

  “Stop!” she shouted, fighting against her rescuer. “I need to go help my father!”

  “It is too late for him,” Mr. Tanner, the mercantile owner, declared, ignoring her feeble attempts to flee. “We’ve got to save you.”

  The fight drained out of her when she saw her father lying moti
onless in the street, his gun never drawn. The children that had been running down the boardwalk just moments before were now dead and two women were lying not far from them, their canned goods littered across the road.

  An eerie silence filled the air as a man approached her father and kicked his lifeless body. He turned toward her, his eyes black and soulless. He tipped his hat at her and gave her a sinister smile.

  Rosalie jolted upright in bed and reached for the pistol under her pillow.

  “It’s all right, Rosie,” Paden’s comforting voice murmured next to her.

  Gripping her pistol reassuringly, she saw that Paden was lying in the bed. “What do you think you are doing?” she asked, seriously considering shooting him.

  “You were having a nightmare earlier. When I woke you up, you asked me to stay with you.” His eyes were filled with concern. “Do you not recall that?”

  A vague memory of her asking him to stay came to her mind. “I do now,” she sighed, placing the pistol on a small table next to the bed. “I am sorry if I kept you up.”

  “You have nothing to apologize for.”

  A rooster crowed in the distance, alerting them to the early hour. Rosalie brought her knees up to her chest and hugged them tightly. She had been having the same nightmare that had plagued her since her father’s death. When would those memories fade?

  Paden turned to his side and propped himself up on his elbow. “Was your dream about your father?”

  “It always is,” she confirmed, resting her chin on her knees.

  “I wish I’d been there,” Paden said through gritted teeth. “If I hadn’t been out at the Olsen farm investigating who stole a chicken, then…”

  Rosalie cut him off. “If you had been there then you would have been killed too.”

  “Thanks for the vote of confidence,” he replied dryly.

  She tilted her head to look at him. “It was ten against one. Those men shot women and children. If you had engaged them, more people would have died, including yourself.”