by Laura Beers
He shrugged. “I suppose I wanted to be closer to you.”
She huffed. “You are a horrible liar, Lincoln.”
“Fine,” he admitted. “I just find it disconcerting how much attention we are attracting because of you.”
“Let them look,” she replied. “I’ve always used it to my advantage.”
“In what way?”
A smug smile came to her lips. “Men always underestimate me because of my looks. They assume I’m a weak woman who needs protecting.”
Lincoln winced slightly, knowing he had thought something similar.
They stopped in front of a whitewashed building with a sign that read ‘Hotel’. He waited as Amey tied her horse to a post out front. After she was done, she stared up at the building for a long moment with a frown on her face.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, concerned.
She turned to face him and lowered her voice. “I just realized that we’re going to have to get one hotel room.”
“Is that a problem?”
“Of course, it’s a problem!” she declared. “We aren’t truly married.”
“But we are married.” He tapped his vest pocket, feeling a need to tease her. “I have the document proving it right here.”
“You know what I mean.”
He took a step closer to her. “Your virtue is safe with me, Mrs. Hoyt,” he joked.
She gave him an exasperated look. “Are you sure we can’t get two rooms?”
“A married couple shares a bedroom, including a bed.”
Her face paled. “You can’t be serious.”
Taking pity on her, he gently placed a hand on her shoulder and said, “I’m only teasing. I’ll sleep on the floor.”
Lincoln felt her relax under his touch.
“Thank you,” she murmured.
He wanted to remain close to her, but he knew it wasn’t his right. He lowered his hand and stepped back. “Shall we?” he asked as he offered his arm.
As they entered the hotel, he saw an older woman with silver hair behind a counter in the entry hall. She smiled at them. “What a lovely couple you two make.”
Lincoln felt Amey tense for a brief moment before she murmured, “Thank you.”
“Can I get you a room for the evening?” the woman asked, opening a book in front of her.
“Yes, but we’ll most likely be here for a few days,” Lincoln said.
The woman picked up a pen. “That’s wonderful news,” she replied kindly. “May I get your names?”
“Mr. and Mrs. Lincoln Hoyt.”
The woman wrote down their names in the book as she introduced herself. “My name is Mrs. Willow. I own the hotel.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Willow,” Lincoln responded.
Mrs. Willow glanced between them. “How long have you two been married?”
“We were married just a few hours ago,” he informed her.
Mrs. Willow gasped. “You’re newlyweds!” she exclaimed. “How delightful.”
“That we are.” Lincoln wrapped his arm around his wife’s waist and pulled her closer to him. “I must admit that I feel like the luckiest man alive since my sweet Amey agreed to marry me.”
Amey smiled up at him. “I feel the same way,” she replied with an undercurrent of terseness in her tone.
Unable to resist, he leaned in and kissed her on the cheek, his lips lingering. “That’s kind of you to say, darling,” he murmured as he leaned back.
Mrs. Willow watched their interaction with a broad smile on her face. “I’ve decided that I’m going to give you the suite on the second floor,” she said. “It’s slightly larger than the other rooms and even has a sofa to relax on.”
Lincoln smiled at the proprietress. “We appreciate that, ma’am.”
Mrs. Willow closed the book. “If you’ll follow me, I’ll show you to your room.” She came out from behind the counter and pointed toward a door off the main entry hall. “This is the dining room. We’ll begin serving dinner any moment now.”
She continued walking toward a narrow flight of stairs. “Your room is tucked away in the corner, which will grant you some much needed privacy.”
Lincoln hadn’t removed his arm from around Amey’s waist as he followed behind the proprietress. She shot him annoyed looks, but he kept his gaze straight ahead. He knew they needed to appear smitten with one another for their cover’s sake.
Mrs. Willow stopped outside of a closed door and removed a key from the apron of her dress. She unlocked the door, opened it, and stepped into the room.
“This is the honeymoon suite,” she announced, her gesture encompassing the entire room.
Lincoln stepped into the room with Amey and immediately noticed the spaciousness of it. A bed was pressed up against the wall, and a sofa was next to a large window. There was a changing partition in the corner and a nightstand next to the bed.
“This will do nicely,” he said, dropping his wife’s carpetbag on the ground.
Mrs. Willow smiled approvingly. “I thought so,” she said, extending him the key. “I hope to see you two at dinner.”
Amey returned the woman’s smile. “We’ll be there.”
Once Mrs. Willow had stepped out of the room, closing the door behind her, Amey stepped out of his arms and opened her mouth to no doubt start yelling at him.
He immediately put his finger up to his lips. “Don’t say anything yet,” he urged.
Crossing her arms over her chest, Amey started tapping her foot on the carpet.
Lincoln walked over to the door and opened it, confirming that no one was in the hallway. He closed it and walked over to sit on the bed.
“Do you need to change dresses before dinner?” he asked.
Amey narrowed her eyes. “How dare you kiss me on my cheek!”
“We were acting the part of newlyweds,” he replied. “Newlyweds are affectionate around each other.”
“I believe holding me so tightly against you was sufficient!” she declared.
He shrugged nonchalantly. “I decided to improvise.”
“The next time you try to kiss me, I will shoot you,” she warned in a tone that implied she meant it.
He tsked. “You would kill your own husband?”
“Yes, gladly.”
Lincoln grinned. “Duly noted,” he replied. “Are you ready for dinner? I’m famished.”
Later that evening, Amey sat on the bed with the case file in front of her, but her thoughts were on anything but the case. She’d gone over the papers in the files so many times that she practically had them memorized. Instead, she was thinking of her partner… er… her husband.
She snuck a peek at him as he sat on the sofa cleaning his revolver. He was so ridiculously handsome that she found herself staring at him at the most inopportune times. It was not good for her to pine after her partner, especially given the circumstances.
Once this case was over, they would seek an annulment and go their separate ways. And that is exactly what she wanted. She didn’t want a husband. Even if she did, she didn’t want someone like Lincoln Hoyt. He may be handsome enough, but he was rude, cocky, and went out of his way to tease her.
Lincoln’s voice broke her out of her musings. “Why are you reviewing the case file again?”
She closed the file. “I just wanted to ensure that we’re prepared for the meeting with Mr. Tiner tomorrow.”
Lincoln reached behind him and tucked his pistol into the back of his trousers. “There isn’t much in the case files. We won’t know more until we meet with Tiner.”
“I agree.”
Lincoln rose from the sofa and walked over to the bed.
As he sat down, she asked, “What do you think you’re doing?”
He smirked. “I thought it was fairly obvious. I’m sitting on the bed.”
“Why?”
“I thought we could talk,” he said, leaning his back against the wall and stretching his legs out on the mattress.
“
I’d prefer it if you return to the sofa.”
He shook his head. “The sofa is lumpy and uncomfortable,” he shared. “I’d much rather sit on the bed with you.”
“Why?”
Lincoln huffed. “You ask too many questions.”
“I do not,” she defended. “I just think it’s improper for both of us to be on a bed together.”
“It isn’t improper. We’re married,” he reminded her, smiling.
Realizing she was fighting a losing battle, she placed the case file onto the nightstand next to the oil lamp before she leaned her back up against the wall.
“What do you want to talk about?” she asked.
He glanced over at her. “Why are you obsessed with Billy Joe Campbell?”
“I have my reasons,” she said, adverting her gaze.
“Can you name them?”
She pursed her lips. “I think it would be best if we kept a professional distance between us.”
“Weren’t you the one who wanted to learn more about one another?”
“True, but there are some things I’m not comfortable discussing with you.”
“I agree, wholeheartedly. However, as the lead agent on the case, I need to know all the facts.”
“Why?” she asked, glancing over at him.
He grew solemn. “I need to know if I can trust you.”
“You can.”
“Can I?”
“I assure you that you can.”
Lincoln studied her for a moment before saying, “You should know that Archie asked me to determine whether or not your obsession has consumed you.”
“He asked you to spy on me?”
He nodded. “He did.”
Fingering the fringe on her sleeve, she replied, “If you must know, Billy Joe Campbell killed my brother as he robbed the bank in Tucson.”
“I’m sorry for your…”
She held up her hand. “Don’t finish that sentence,” she said. “I hate it when people offer me condolences.”
“May I ask why?”
“Because until I have brought his killer to justice, I feel as if I’ve failed him.”
Lincoln shifted on the bed to face her. “Why don’t you start from the beginning?”
She took a deep breath to gather her courage. This was the first time she had shared her story with anyone. “Two years ago, Billy Joe Campbell robbed my parents’ bank where my older brother, Mark, was working as a clerk.”
“It was your parents’ bank?”
“It was,” she replied. “Does that matter?”
He shook his head. “No, I was just curious.”
“It was the end of the day, and my brother was about to lock up, when Billy Joe Campbell ran into the bank,” she shared. “He demanded the money, but the bank only had a few hundred dollars in cash.”
She paused for a moment before continuing with her story. “Billy became irate and shot my brother in the chest. The sheriff heard the pistol discharging from his office, but by the time he arrived, Mark was bleeding out on the floor. There was no sign of Billy.”
Compassion was in Lincoln’s voice as he said, “I’m so sorry.”
Tears came to her eyes, and she swiped at them with her hand. “My brother was able to describe the man before he died, and the sheriff immediately organized a posse to search for him.”
“I assume they didn’t catch him.”
“Oh, they did,” she replied. “They caught him and arrested him, but somehow he managed to escape from his prison cell.”
“How awful,” Lincoln murmured.
“When I heard the news, I asked Mr. Pinkerton to assign me to the case, and he granted me permission. But I couldn’t catch Billy Joe, and the case grew cold. After that, I was ordered to come back to Chicago and was assigned other cases.”
“But you never stopped looking for your brother’s killer.”
“No, and I never will,” she said in a determined voice.
“Good,” he stated. “I wouldn’t either, if I was in your shoes.”
“Thank you for understanding,” she replied. “Most people think I have an unhealthy obsession with bringing Billy Joe Campbell to justice.”
“Do you?”
“I don’t think I do,” she said. “But I can’t just walk around pretending that everything is all right when my whole world was shattered two years ago.”
“I understand completely. After my brothers were killed, I had to learn to face life without them, and it was hard.”
“I can only imagine,” she murmured.
A comfortable silence descended over them as they each retreated to their own thoughts. It was only after a long moment that Lincoln broke the silence.
“Did your parents truly disown you for becoming a Pinkerton agent, or is there more to the story?”
“There’s more, but it’s a rather long story,” she replied, hoping to dissuade him.
He held up his hands. “We have all night,” he said, smiling.
Amey shifted her gaze toward the open window as music drifted up into their room from the saloon down the street. “I was always the ‘good girl’ growing up,” she admitted. “I knew what was expected of me, and I acted accordingly. But that wasn’t who I was.”
“Then who is the real Amey Barney?”
A smile came to her lips. “I prefer to wear trousers and a shirtwaist.”
“You do?”
She nodded. “I even own a gun belt.”
Lincoln looked amused. “I take it that your parents didn’t approve?”
“Not at all,” she said. “My parents wanted me to continue to be the prim and proper daughter of the mayor.”
“Your father was the mayor?”
“He still is,” she admitted, growing serious. “When I turned eighteen, my father arranged a marriage for me. He wanted me to marry his business partner’s son.”
“I take it that you weren’t pleased with this match,” he replied knowingly.
She shook her head. “Heavens, no!” she exclaimed. “Timothy was a vain, shallow man, and I wanted nothing to do with him.”
“What did you do?”
“I realized that I needed to stop pretending to be someone that I wasn’t,” she shared. “The first thing I did was inform my parents that I would never, ever marry Timothy. Then, I started wearing split skirts, riding astride, and even began carrying a pistol on my person.”
“How did your parents react?”
Amey frowned. “They were mortified, and we fought constantly,” she said. “That’s when I saw the advertisement in the newspaper about how the Female Detective Bureau was looking to hire women to expand the bureau. I sent off a letter that day to Mr. Hopkins, and he responded by sending me a train ticket.”
“He hired you based on your letter?” Lincoln asked incredulously.
“No, I had to first prove myself on a case,” she informed him. “My assignment was to befriend the mother of a known bank robber, in hopes of learning his location.”
“I assumed you completed the assignment.”
“I did,” she answered proudly. “The mother mentioned her son was coming to visit shortly, and we were waiting for him.”
“Well done.”
She grew silent. “My parents didn’t think so,” she revealed. “They threatened to disown me if I left for Chicago, but I didn’t think they would go through with it. After I solved my first case, I sent them a note to inform them that I’d been hired by the Pinkerton Detective Agency. They never responded.”
“Never?”
She sighed. “Never,” she admitted. “My brother and I continued to write each other, but he told me that I broke my mother’s heart by leaving.”
Lincoln winced. “I can only imagine how hard that was for you to hear.”
“It was,” she said. “When I went to Tucson to investigate my brother’s death, my parents refused to meet with me.”
Lincoln’s brow lifted. “That seems rather harsh.”
&n
bsp; “It was, but it made me realize that I was truly alone in the world,” she stated. “I had no one to rely on but myself.”
“That’s a sad way to live,” Lincoln acknowledged.
She offered him a weak smile. “No, it’s a sensible view on life.”
Lincoln watched her for a long moment before saying, “We should get some sleep. Most likely, we’ll have a long day ahead of us.”
“I agree.”
He rose from the bed. “Do you require help changing out of your clothes?” he asked with a flirtatious smile.
She huffed. “I most assuredly do not, agent.”
“Pity,” he teased.
Rising from the bed, Amey walked over to her trunk and retrieved her nightgown. Then, she went behind the changing partition.
After she changed, she hurried over to the bed, slid under the covers and blew out the lamp. She heard Lincoln chuckle as he laid on the floor near the sofa.
She laid her head on the pillow and stared up at the ceiling. She wondered what she’d been thinking when she confided in Lincoln. That had been a colossal mistake on her part. Lincoln couldn’t possibly understand what she’d gone through, and she wasn’t entirely sure that she could trust him yet.
She would be mindful never to make that mistake again.
5
Dressed in a brown suit with a matching vest, Lincoln rested his shoulder against the wall in the hallway as he waited for his wife to finish dressing for the day. What was taking her so long? It had been almost an hour since he’d left the room. Women couldn’t possibly take that long to change. Could they?
He was about to knock on the door when it opened, revealing his partner. She was dressed in a dark blue, fitted gown that highlighted her small waist, and he had an almost overwhelming desire to wrap his arms around her.
Where had that feeling come from?
He cleared his throat as he watched her close the door. “It’s about time you were ready,” he said gruffly.
She smiled sweetly at him. “It takes a decent amount of time to dress like a lady.”
“I thought you were going to wear trousers today.”
“And draw unwanted attention?” she asked. “I think not.”
He straightened from the wall and said, “That’s a good point.”
