by P. Creeden
Marianne kissed Archie on the cheek as his eyes became half-moons with the beard on his face barely hid the smile there. Sam lifted a brow. That was an interesting development. Had the two of them finally admitted their feelings for one another? A huffed laugh couldn’t help but make its way past Sam’s lips.
“What are you doing standing here like you’ve got no place to go?” a voice said from behind him. Sam spun around and found himself face to face with Logan Howard, the crooked-nosed pugilist who had his lip turned up in a smile.
After the sudden rush of surprise struck him, relief washed over Sam as he took the man’s outstretched hand and shook it. The two of them leaned in toward each other, and Sam shook his head. “I’m not sure I have a place to go actually.”
Giving his hand a pump and a squeeze, Logan let it go and lifted a brow. “The agency here in Denver is like family. Even though you’ve been gone a little while, you’ll be welcome with open arms. You burned no bridges when you left, and Archie understood you’re reasoning. Oh, and along those lines, did you get married?”
In his chest, Sam’s heart squeezed as he shook his head and lowered his gaze. “No. It wasn’t for lack of trying.”
This time it was Logan’s turn to huff a laugh. “Well, maybe something can be done about that too.”
Then Logan clapped him on the shoulder and started pushing him toward the gate. As the pugilist opened it, he called toward the couple standing on the front porch. “Look what I found just outside our gates.”
Archie and Marianne both looked up at Sam with surprised expressions. No, Sam hadn’t burned a bridge when he’d left, but Archie had shown that he was none too happy about it when Sam had gone. At the time, Archie had expressed how career had to come first, and that many agents went unmarried for a long part of their lives in order to work harder. As Sam stepped toward the Scottish gentleman, Archie’s lips pulled into a wide smile. “Sam Shelby!” he said as he stepped forward and clapped Sam on the shoulder, offering his hand to shake. “It’s good to see you. Have you come to join us once more?”
This was not at all the welcome Sam had been expecting. He blinked twice before answering. “If you’ll have me.”
“Of course! Of course. But I’m late for an appointment, so I must go. Get some food inside if you’ve not eaten. Feel free to take up residence in the bunkhouse once more. And I’m sure Logan and Mrs. Gordon can get you back up to speed.”
“Mrs. Gordon?” Sam asked, lifting a brow toward Marianne whose cheeks flushed a bit.
But Archie’s smile grew wider still. As he clapped Sam’s shoulder again, he laughed. “A lot has happened in your absence, my good man. As I said, Logan and Marianne will catch you up.” Then Archie started toward the gate with a light step. “I’ll be back late this evening, Sam, so we’ll talk in the morning!”
And then Archie made his way out the gate and turned the corner. Sam couldn’t help but watch him leave with his brow furrowed. “He’s changed a bit, hasn’t he?”
“Well, married life can do that to a ma. Right, Logan?” Marianne asked.
Sam’s gaze darted toward Logan Howard whose cheeks were a bit colored now, himself, and he rubbed the back of his neck as he avoided Sam’s gaze. Sam blinked and shook his head, the slightest twang of jealousy striking a chord in his heart. “You’re married, too?”
Logan shrugged and cleared his throat. Then he nodded toward the door. “Let’s get you settled inside and in the bunkhouse if you want and I’ll explain everything. All right?”
Sam nodded and followed the two of them inside. A lot seemed to have happened in the two years of his absence, but what struck him the most was that it seemed everyone in Denver had gotten married and moved on while he’d been the one to quit the agency intending to do exactly what others had succeeded in and he’d failed. This was a story that needed an explanation as far as Sam Shelby was concerned and he couldn’t wait to hear it.
* * *
Mr. Brown’s eyes narrowed at Hazel. “What are you doing here?”
Hazel voice froze in her throat. She’d been caught and though she’d not had a hard time acting and telling a story to Mrs. Lincoln. The gaze Mr. Brown pinned her with kept her immobile for a long moment.
Finally, Mrs. Lincoln stood and offered a nervous laugh. “Whatever do you mean, brother? Hazel is here to help attend to her sister the night before the wedding. Isn’t that the way it should be?”
Another long look was offered toward Hazel, but the atmosphere had changed enough that Hazel was able to pull her gaze from his and then reach for her cup of tea and drink it as though nothing at all were the matter.
“Are you, now?” the man asked, finally, his voice dripping with unspoken harshness.
Hazel blinked, set down her cup of tea, and cultivated a bored expression before returning her gaze to Mr. Brown. “As Mrs. Lincoln said, I’m here to attend to my sister.”
“Who else is coming? Does anyone else know about this,” he hissed through his teeth.
The jig was up. Hazel knew that there was no point in dancing around the issue any longer. She’d need to stall everything for at least ten minutes to give her father time to arrive, but she wasn’t sure if she’d be able to do it. She decided to double down on her current facade. When her gaze returned to Mr. Brown’s she tilted her head. “Whatever do you mean, Mr. Brown? My sister has been so excited to return and become your bride, hasn’t she? So excited that she could barely contain herself. She stated as much in all her letters home. Why else would she have returned so soon?”
Mr. Brown blinked, uncertainty flickering through his eyes. “She... she has?”
“That’s right. This is exactly what she wanted and what she was waiting for. Surely you know above all others how my sister feels about you.” Somewhere deep within Hazel, her stomach soured. This felt different from just acting upon a stage. This felt like outright lying. How did people who practiced graft do it comfortably? Hazel wasn’t sure she’d ever know.
Mr. Brown stepped toward her. Even as she reached into her pocket for her pistol, she stood her ground. Every part of her being wanted to back away from the man as he drew closer to her, but instead she schooled her expression. He eyed her warily, as though assessing what she’d said with what he might think her to believe. Her father had taught her that pistols were best used at several feet from the intended target. At too close a range, anyone with a pistol could be disarmed. Even as she slid her fingers against the cold metal in her pocket for reassurance, she hoped she wouldn’t have to draw her weapon. Her target was too close to her now.
She remained perfectly still while he assessed her. Then he stepped away, blinking and suddenly appearing unsure. Mrs. Lincoln cleared her throat. “Well, now. I guess that we’re all happy with how to spend the afternoon. Miss Hazel, would you like to see your sister now? Perhaps she will rouse with you here.”
Excitement pooled in Hazel’s stomach as she nodded.
“No,” Mr. Brown said firmly. “Ruby has said she needed the rest after a fitful ride on the train. No one is to disturb her.”
The excitement in Hazel’s stomach turned over as her gut twisted. Even if Mr. Brown seemed to be a bit touched, he was sane enough that he didn’t seem to be falling for Hazel’s ploy. She sighed and nodded. “Ruby often has spells of tiredness that come upon her when she’s worn out. It’s completely understandable.”
Confusion tightened Mr. Brown’s features. He couldn’t seem to understand why she might be agreeing with him and it was making it so that his responses were slowed. Good. That was right where Hazel wanted him. All she had to do was continue to stall for just a bit longer.
With a smile, she turned to Mrs. Lincoln in exaggerated excitement. “I wrote a piece of music for the event. It’s my gift to the bride as she’s always loved my music. Do you have a piano or violin so that I can show you.” Then Hazel turned toward Mr. Brown. “I’d like you to hear it is well so that you can give your opinion.”
A
grin spread across Mrs. Lincoln’s face as her eyes sparkled. “I’d love to hear it. I have both a violin and an piano. Which would you prefer?”
“If your piano is tuned well, I’d prefer it, as violins often go out of tune if they just sit for a while unplayed.”
“It’s been quite a while since anyone has played my violin,” Mrs. Lincoln said standing. “I’d heard you were musically inclined, but you write your own music? You can play both the piano and the violin?”
Hazel followed her lead and stood as well. “I can play any musical instrument if given a short while to learn it. My mother said I was gifted music by God so that I can make it sing like the angels.”
“Do you sing as well?” Mrs. Lincoln asked, eyes wide.
Even though he’d not moved a muscle and Hazel hadn’t looked directly his way in quite a while, Hazel continued to watch Mr. Brown in her periphery. She shook her head as she followed Mrs. Lincoln into the next room where an upright piano stood against the wall. “I can carry a tune, but it’s Ruby who is the singer. We both majored in music and theater at Vassar, but Ruby often had lead roles in the musical plays.”
“I believe Elliot had mentioned that before. Didn’t you, dear brother?”
Mr. Brown cleared his throat. “I’m sure I have.”
“Didn’t you say that you first spotted dear Ruby in a musical play? You said she sang like an angel.” Mrs. Lincoln removed the cover over the keys and gestured toward the bench for Hazel to sit.
Hazel sat as she peered up at Mr. Brown. Maybe she could keep him talking a bit before she played it would gain them time. It couldn’t be more than a few more minutes that she needed. But she needed to stall as long as possible. “Is that so, Mr. Brown?” Hazel asked. “Which play?”
Just then there was a loud knock at the front door and all three of them turned toward the sound. The butler shuffled toward the door while the rest of the household held their breath in unison. But then Hazel noticed that Mr. Brown had pulled back his jacket and exposed a pistol at his side, and her heart stuttered in her chest. Slowly Hazel stood from the piano bench as Mr. Brown made his way toward the door. The man walked in a stiff manner and his hand never left the handle of his pistol. His mannerisms made Hazel’s stomach twist. Would he really draw a weapon on her father? Or the police? Surely not.
“Where are you going?” Mrs. Lincoln asked softly.
Hazel had nearly forgotten about Mr. Brown’s sister. “I guess curiosity was getting the better of me. You and Mr. Brown seemed surprised—as though you weren’t expecting company?”
“We weren’t, but then you came, so I suppose that maybe more of your family might arrive?”
Did the woman really not see the way that her brother was handling a pistol in a belligerent manner as he stepped toward the foyer? Hazel swallowed hard as her heart raced in her chest. “I suppose it might be my family,” Hazel said as she quickened her pace to keep up with Mr. Brown. “I guess that I should greet them as well.”
The minute the great oak door in the entry opened, Mr. Lockwood’s voice carried in. Father. He’d arrived before Hazel had even calculated exactly. There was a modicum of relief there, but it was tempered by the great tension that filled Hazel as she kept her gaze fixed on Mr. Brown. Then Mr. Brown began drawing his weapon from its holster, and Hazel couldn’t wait a minute longer. She pulled her pistol from her pocket and stepped forward, pressing it directly against Mr. Brown’s arm so that the barrel of the Derringer poked him just above the elbow. “Stop right there, Mr. Brown. Do not draw your weapon or you may lose an arm.”
His gaze darted toward her and his eyes went wide, but he froze. She stepped back before he’d realize he was able to disarm her. Slowly his hands went up in surrender.
She glared at him even as her father stepped into the foyer and shouted. “Hazel! What are you doing?”
“Father! He has a gun. Disarm him while you have the chance.”
Her father came into her scope of vision and took hold of Mr. Brown’s weapon, then he turned toward her with a look of disapproval. “You can lower your weapon now, Hazel. And we’re going to have to have a long talk about things once this is all over.”
Hazel’s heart sank, even though she felt relieved.
Chapter 5
Sam’s brow furrowed. “Married? You married your agent-in-training?”
The grin on Logan’s face couldn’t go any wider as he leaned back in his chair and laced his fingers behind his head. “I did.”
“And you stayed married. You didn’t get an annulment when you got back from your first mission—even though it was an option?”
“That’s right,” Logan said, his teeth blindingly bright.
Sam could hardly believe it. Logan was about the same age as Sam was but had been hard to get along with, hadn’t had much experience with ladies, and most women would have rejected him on sight due to his crooked nose and scars that marked him as a former fighter. He looked like a dangerous man, and Sam could scarcely believe what he was hearing. “I’d love to meet the woman who puts up with you now. I can hardly believe that she chose to stay with you as well.”
Logan’s brow lifted as he folded one of his ankles over the other. “Really now? Maybe she’s just an angel. She’s certainly sent by God for me, and I believe that in my heart of hearts. Why don’t you come over for supper tonight and meet Adelaide. Then you’ll see that the situation’s not so bad.”
A lump formed in Sam’s throat. He understood the implication. Not only would Sam potentially be assigned an agent to train, but he’d have to marry her. The thought of it sent sweat sliding down his spine. “Are you sure she wouldn’t mind?”
“Never,” Logan said as he set his feet on the ground and leaned forward. “You said you had to get your luggage from the hotel, right? Adelaide and I have a nice little house in town right near the hotel. She’s from the south, so she always cooks too much food. Once I tell her that you’re a friend and fellow agent and wanted to know what it was like for a couple put into this matchmaking situation, she’ll be more than happy to share with you her experience, too.”
Sam swallowed hard against that lump. Even though he had his reservations, he thought that the situation of getting married for a short time to protect any woman’s reputation would still be much harder for her than it was for him. It might be good to see how things turned out for Adelaide Howard and if she truly was happy with everything the way that Logan said. “All right, then. If you’re done with your business here?”
Logan opened a drawer and pulled out a legal log book. “This was all that I needed. I forgot it here when I packed up.” Then he stood. “Are you ready now?”
“Ready as ever,” Sam said as he followed Logan to the door.
The walk to Logan’s house was easy and as he had said, they stopped in to get Sam’s luggage from the hotel and gave the man who ran the lobby a generous tip since his luggage had sat there most of the afternoon without Sam actually staying in as a patron. When they walked up the stone steps to Logan’s small home, the door swung open before he’d even reached for the hand. A beautiful dark-haired woman stood in the door way, eyes sparkling as she met gazes with Logan. “There you are! You said you’d be back in half an hour. It’s been nearly two.”
Logan embraced the young woman as she jumped into his arms and then she looked over her husband’s shoulder and met eyes with Sam who suddenly felt heat rushing to his cheeks. Her eyes went wide.
“Oh my!” she exclaimed as she scrambled out of Logan’s arms and smoothed her apron. “I didn’t realize you’d brought a guest.”
Turning to smile at Sam, Logan gestured toward him. “Adelaide, I’d like you to meet my friend Sam Shelby. He’s a returning Pinkerton Agent who has been spending time in California of late.”
She nodded her head, her hands in front of her demurely. “It’s always a pleasure to meet a friend and agent. I’ve made a pot roast and plenty of biscuits. Would you like to stay for dinner. I do hope y
ou will. I’d love to hear more about goings on in California these days.”
“It would be my pleasure,” Sam said as he removed his hat and followed the pair inside. Sam had to admit that Logan was a changed man. He’d always been a grumpy person at best, a man who stayed to himself and rarely had time for trivialities. But as they sat down together to break bread, Sam couldn’t help but get the feeling that the man that he’d once knew, perhaps he didn’t know at all. Logan had been like a caterpillar who blossomed into something quite a bit more colorful and perhaps beautiful than he’d been before. Maybe there was something to this business of marrying an agent-in-training.
Sam wasn’t sure if he liked the process, but he felt that the results, at least for Logan, were incredible. The whole reason that Sam had left the agency in the first place was to get married and start a family. Perhaps he never should have left. But would this sort of situation arrive for him the way it had for Logan? And would he even really enjoy such a thing. He couldn’t believe it would, but he was willing to give it a chance. Only time would tell.
* * *
A week later, after Ruby had recovered fully from the ordeal, the Lee family as well as Savannah and her husband arrived for the wedding. Ruby had already arranged for them all to come. Hazel’s father still could barely look at her without shaking his head and frowning. Her heart sunk every time. Yes, she understood that what she’d done was dangerous, but wasn’t that exactly why her father had taught the girls to be able to protect themselves in life-threatening situations before they left to go to Vassar College in New York? A sigh escaped Hazel’s lips as she watched her beautiful sister walk up the church aisle during the wedding march, arm-in-arm with their father.
