An Agent for Amey

by Laura Beers

  “No, it is not nice,” he replied dryly. “We are colleagues, not friends, and we are looking for clues to help us find a murderer.”

  Amey opened her mouth to respond when the sound of a shotgun discharging in the distance could be heard.

  “Get down!” Lincoln shouted as he grabbed her and tossed her to the ground. Then, he fell on top of her, using his body as a shield to protect her.

  Another shot was fired, and it splintered off the side of a tree near them.

  Someone was shooting at them!

  9

  Before the second shot was even fired, Lincoln had already drawn his weapon, his alert eyes scanning the trees. He couldn’t see the shooter, but he knew he wasn’t far off.

  He could feel Amey squirm underneath him as she reached for her revolver. “You can get off me now, Lincoln,” she urged in a hushed tone.

  Without saying a word, he moved to get off her, but stayed in a crouched position. “We need to get out of the open,” he remarked.

  Amey nodded as she rose and hurried to reposition herself behind a tree. “Can you see the shooter?”

  He shook his head.

  Another shot went off, but the round wasn’t being directed at them. It sounded as if the shooter was traveling in the opposite direction.

  “Follow me,” he ordered.

  With quick steps, he started weaving between the trees, being mindful to remain low. He stopped by a large pine tree and turned back toward Amey.

  “Stay here,” he directed, his tone brooked no argument.

  “No,” she replied.

  He gave her a baffled look. “Why not?”

  “Because I refuse to stay back while you rush into danger alone.”

  “I am not rushing into danger,” he replied, frowning. “I need to find a way to sneak up on the shooter.”

  “I’m fully capable of doing that, as well,” she said, tilting her chin defiantly.

  Realizing he was fighting a losing battle and time was of the essence, he drawled, “Fine. Follow me.”

  Lincoln darted out from behind the safety of the tree and headed deeper into the woods, not bothering to wait for Amey. He was sure that the vexing woman would remain close behind.

  Treading swiftly but lightly, he continued his advance until he saw a lone figure up ahead. The man was holding a shotgun in his hand, and his attention seemed to be directed toward something in the distance.

  Lincoln tightened his hold on his revolver as he approached the shooter. He was about to make his presence known when he saw Amey walk out from the cover of the trees. Her revolver was aimed at the man as she ordered, “Put your gun down!”

  What in the blazes was she doing?

  The dark-haired shooter looked at her in surprise. “Where did you come from?”

  “We’ll have this conversation after you put your shotgun down,” she said in a firm tone.

  The man slowly crouched down, put his shotgun onto the ground, and kept his hands in front of him as he rose.

  Amey kept her gun trained on him and asked, “Why were you shooting at us?”

  “Us?”

  Lincoln stepped out from behind the tree. “Yes, us.” He walked over and picked up the man’s shotgun. “You nearly killed me and my partner.”

  The man glanced between them. “I wasn’t shooting at you,” he declared. “I was shooting at that buck.”

  “What buck?” Amey asked.

  The man pointed in the opposite direction. “The buck that would have fed my family for a month,” he said. “I can’t believe I missed. I hardly ever miss.”

  Amey glanced over at Lincoln before she holstered her revolver. “You ought to be more careful when you’re hunting in these woods.”

  The man nodded. “I’m truly sorry,” he said. “I have never encountered anyone in these woods before, especially since I own a large chunk of this property.”

  “You must be Jonathon Croft,” Amey remarked knowingly.

  Jonathon eyed her suspiciously. “And how would you know that?”

  “Jacob Tiner told us that you lived on the opposite side of these woods,” Lincoln replied.

  “How do you know Jacob?” Jonathon asked.

  “We recently met him in town, and he invited us to go shooting here,” Amey explained.

  “That was a foolhardy thing to do,” Jonathon said. “The last thing I expect in these woods are people.”

  Lincoln extended the shotgun to Jonathon. “We’ll be more careful in the future.”

  Jonathon’s brow lifted. “Future?”

  “We still intend to go shooting,” Lincoln stated. “My wife is adamant that I teach her how to shoot.”

  Amey pursed her lips for a moment before saying, “My husband is a crack shot, and he has offered to teach me.”

  “It doesn’t appear to me that you need any help with a gun, ma’am,” Jonathon commented, his eyes perusing the length of her.

  “That’s kind of you to say, sir,” Amey replied, flashing him a smile.

  Jonathon’s eyes stopped on her arm. “You’re hurt.”

  Lincoln noticed for the first time that Amey’s shirt was ripped and had dried blood caked on it. He must have injured her when he knocked her to the ground. “Are you all right?” he asked.

  She nodded. “It’s merely a flesh wound,” she said. “I’ll be fine.”

  “Why don’t we go to my cabin and have my wife clean that wound for you?” Jonathon suggested.

  “That isn’t necessary,” Amey replied.

  “Nonsense,” Jonathon stated. “It’s the least I can do after I accidently shot at you earlier.”

  Amey tugged at the ends of her ripped shirt. “Don’t worry—”

  Lincoln cut her off. “I think that’s a brilliant idea,” he remarked.

  “You do?” she asked.

  “We wouldn’t want it to get infected, now would we, dear?” Lincoln pressed.

  Amey shook her head. “No, we wouldn’t.”

  Jonathon smiled. “Excellent. My cabin is on the other side of these woods.”

  As they started walking toward Jonathon’s cabin, Lincoln said, “Jacob mentioned you’re a farmer.”

  “Yes, sir, a corn farmer to be more exact,” Jonathon replied. “As was my father, and his father.” He glanced over at them. “What brings you to Longworth?”

  “We’re here on our honeymoon,” Amey answered.

  Jonathon bobbed his head in approval. “You two are a fine-looking couple, if you don’t mind me saying.”

  “Not at all,” Lincoln replied.

  “I’m glad to hear that Jacob has been riding into town,” Jonathon said. “He’s been vilified by some of the townsfolk.”

  “We’ve heard about his wife,” Amey remarked, keeping pace with them.

  Jonathon glanced over at her. “It’s just awful that anyone thinks that Jacob could have anything to do with her death.”

  “You don’t?” Lincoln questioned.

  Jonathon shook his head. “Jacob is a good man, and he loved his wife dearly. They may have had their problems, but what married couple doesn’t?”

  “Good point,” Lincoln agreed.

  “Besides, Jacob has an alibi at the time of his wife’s death,” Jonathon stated. “Someone killed Doris, but it wasn’t Jacob. I’m sure of it.”

  “Jacob is lucky to have a friend like you,” Amey said.

  They broke through the trees, and a small cabin sat in the middle of a clearing. Smoke billowed out of the chimney, and a black dog laid on the porch.

  “That is my home,” Jonathon announced proudly. “We’ll get you cleaned up and on your way.”

  “I sure do appreciate this,” Amey remarked.

  Jonathon waved his hand dismissively. “It’s the least I can do for a friend of Jacob’s.” He stepped up onto the porch and leaned down to pet the dog.

  The door opened, revealing a thin boy no older than ten years old. “You’re back already, Pa?” he asked in surprise.

&nb
sp; “I had a slight mishap,” Jonathon said, ruffling the boy’s brown hair. “But I’ll head back out shortly, Will.”

  As they followed Jonathon into the cabin, Lincoln saw that it was roomier than it appeared from the outside. A fire crackled in the hearth and a bubbling pot hung over it. On the opposite side, a ladder led up to a loft upstairs.

  Jonathon pointed toward the rounded kitchen table with four chairs. “Why don’t you have a seat, Mrs…” His words trailed off. “I’m afraid I didn’t catch your name.”

  “It’s Hoyt,” she replied. “Amey Hoyt.”

  “Well, Mrs. Hoyt,” Jonathon said, “why don’t you have a seat?”

  The door opened, and a woman with fading blonde hair entered. Her steps faltered at the sight of the unexpected guests.

  Jonathon spoke up. “There you are, my dear,” he began, “let me introduce you to Mr. and Mrs. Hoyt. They’re friends of Jacob Tiner’s.”

  The woman smiled warmly at them. “It’s nice to meet you. My name is Lois.”

  “Would you mind tending to Mrs. Hoyt’s wounds?” Jacob asked.

  “Wounds? Oh dear!” Lois walked over to Amey and asked, “May I see?”

  Amey placed her right arm on the table. “It’s nothing, really. Lincoln knocked me to the ground, and I unfortunately scraped my arm.”

  Lois leaned closer and examined her wound. “First thing we need to do is to clean the wound. We wouldn’t want an infection to set in. But I do agree with you. I think it’s just a bad scrape.”

  “You have a lovely home,” Amey remarked as her eyes roamed the cabin.

  “Thank you,” Lois replied as she grabbed a bucket and filled it with water from the pump at the sink. “It suits our needs nicely.”

  Jonathon walked over to the door and said, “I believe this is a good time to go get some wood from the woodpile.” His eyes landed on his son. “You coming, Will?”

  “Yes, sir,” he replied.

  “I’d be happy to help, as well,” Lincoln offered.

  “I’ll gladly accept your help,” Jonathon replied, opening the door. “Bringing in wood is a tedious job, but an important one.”

  They’d just walked around the cabin to collect the wood when a lanky young man broke through the trees. He put his hand up in greeting as he approached. “Hello, Pa.”

  “Where’ve you been, John?” Jonathon asked in a frustrated tone.

  “I have been setting traps,” John replied.

  Jonathon frowned. “You’ve been gone all morning.”

  John just smiled. “It takes a long time to set traps.”

  “Now that you’re back, it’s time for you to start your other chores,” Jonathon ordered.

  His smile dimmed. “Yes, Pa.”

  When John started walking away, Jonathon shook his head. “I don’t know what I’m going to do with that boy,” he said. “He just turned seventeen, and it’s a struggle with him every day.”

  “Perhaps he’ll grow out of it,” Lincoln suggested, picking up several pieces of wood and cradling them in his free arm.

  “Perhaps,” Jacob replied, but he didn’t sound convinced.

  With wood piled high in their arms, they entered the cabin and placed it near the fireplace.

  “Good timing,” Lois remarked, putting the cloth back into the water. “I just finished cleaning the wound, and I don’t believe it requires any stitching.”

  “Thank you,” Amey acknowledged. “That was most kind of you.”

  Lois smiled. “You’re welcome.”

  “Thank you for your hospitality, ma’am,” Lincoln said, tipping his hat.

  “Any friend of Jacob’s is a friend of ours,” Lois replied graciously, rising from her chair.

  Amey rose and said, “We’d best be off.”

  After saying their goodbyes, Lincoln escorted Amey out the door and back toward the woods. “Do you need to go back to the hotel to rest?”

  Amey gave him a baffled look. “Why would I need to do that?”

  “Because you’re injured,” he said, pointing at her right arm.

  Holding it up in front of her, she replied, “I would hardly call this an injury.”

  “Then are you up for searching the woods?”

  Amey smiled playfully. “Lead the way, Mr. Lead Agent.”

  Amey was exhausted. They’d spent the past few hours searching the woods but had found no sign of the fabric. They’d seen plenty of chipmunks, deer, and birds, though. As they continued further and further into the woods, they had come across a few streams and even a beaver in the process of building a dam.

  Perhaps they had it wrong.

  What if Doris never made it to the woods?

  “I need a break,” she announced as she sat down on a log near a small stream.

  Lincoln nodded and came to sit down next to her. “Is this too taxing because of your inj—”

  She cut him off. “Do not finish that sentence,” she said firmly. “This has nothing to do with the scrapes on my arm.”

  Putting his hands up in front of him, Lincoln replied, “I’m sorry for bringing it up.”

  “What if we got it wrong?” she asked.

  “Got what wrong?”

  She shifted on the log to face him. “What if Doris never made it into the woods?”

  “You think she was killed right as she left town?”

  She shrugged. “Possibly, but we still can’t rule out the fact that she could have been abducted and killed somewhere else.”

  “I suppose so, but don’t you think someone would have heard her screams?”

  “What if she got into a wagon with someone she trusted?”

  Lincoln shifted his gaze away from hers. “Like Jonathon Croft?”

  “Like Jonathon Croft or someone else from town,” she remarked. “Didn’t the sheriff say that Longworth was a caring town?”

  “If that’s the case then everyone in town is a suspect,” Lincoln stated.

  She let out a sigh. “It seems logical that she was killed in these woods, but we’ve found no sign of the fabric.”

  “What if the person who killed her took the fabric with them?” Lincoln questioned. “Maybe that’s why we haven’t found it.”

  “If that’s the case, then how will we ever discover where she was killed?” Amey asked. “After all, any evidence will likely have disappeared after three weeks.”

  “What if she had a favorite spot where she liked to sit?” he asked, pointing toward the stream. “This is a serene spot.”

  “But it’s so deep in the woods,” she argued. “What if she encountered a bear or mountain lion?”

  “She could have carried a gun on her person.”

  “If that was the case, why didn’t she use it to save herself?” Amey questioned.

  Lincoln lifted his brow. “How do you know she didn’t?”

  “Good point,” she replied. “We need to ask Jacob if Doris was known to carry a gun.”

  “We’re missing something here.”

  “I agree,” she said, rising. “We need to find that fabric, and I think it might be best if we split up.”

  Lincoln rose and dusted off his trousers. “No, we need to stay together.”

  Placing a hand on her hip, she asked, “When are you going to start trusting me?”

  “This has less to do with trust and more about safety.”

  “I have two guns on my person,” she challenged. “I’ll be fine.”

  “I am responsible for you as the lead—”

  “Lead agent,” she said, finishing his sentence. “I get it. You are the lead agent. But I’m not an inexperienced agent. I don’t need a protector.”

  “Your actions prove otherwise.”

  She pursed her lips together. “You need to trust that I know what I’m doing.”

  Lincoln watched her closely for a moment before tossing up his hands. “Fine, but you’d better not get yourself killed.”

  “I can agree to those terms,” she said, smiling.

&nb
sp; “Why are you smiling?”

  “Because we’re finally starting to see eye to eye.”

  Lincoln took a step closer to her. “Has anyone told you that you’re an infuriating woman?”

  “I’ve been called worse,” she replied cheekily as she tilted her head to look up at him.

  “Have you?” he asked, his eyes darting toward her lips.

  Her breath hitched a little, but she managed to say, “I would argue that you are equally infuriating, if not more.”

  “Am I?” he asked in a hoarse voice.

  She nodded, unable to formulate a response with him looking at her like that.

  “Amey,” Lincoln murmured as he started to lean into her.

  As much as she wanted to kiss him, she knew that it would be the wrong thing to do. They were Pinkerton agents on an assignment, and a kiss would just complicate their already confusing situation.

  Amey brought her hand up and placed it on his chest, stilling him. “I think this would be a bad idea.”

  “I don’t,” Lincoln replied, flashing her a flirtatious smile. “I think it’s a brilliant idea.”

  “As you pointed out earlier, we’re colleagues,” she said. “You don’t even consider me a friend.”

  He placed his hands on her shoulders. “You can’t deny that there’s something between us.”

  “Perhaps, but we can’t get distracted from our assignment.”

  Lincoln frowned before he lowered his hands. “You’re right,” he replied. “I apologize. I’m afraid I wasn’t thinking clearly.”

  “No harm done,” she said, taking a step back. “Why don’t we both start heading back toward Jacob’s ranch, but take different paths?”

  “I agree,” he replied.

  “Good.”

  He stood there, his eyes roaming her face. “Good.”

  “What?”

  Lincoln cleared his throat. “I meant that it’s good that we finally agree on something.”

  “Yes, that is good,” she said, feeling awkward. “I find I prefer it when we agree on things.”

  “As do I.”

  She took another step back, creating more distance between them. “If either of us runs into danger, or finds something important, then just shoot your gun into the air.”