An Agent for Frances

by Marie Higgins

  “Please, sir,” Vincent said in a voice that was too weak to be his own, “meeting my love halfway between our homes was the only way we could get some private time together.”

  “Yes, I understand.” Mr. Shipp nodded. His hat was pulled low over his forehead, but the scar on his upper lip that his mustache couldn’t hide was the very feature that gave his identity away.

  “But you won’t have much time,” Shipp continued. “The sun will be up soon.”

  “I know, sir. Thank you.”

  The man moved away from them, continuing toward the bank. Relief flooded through her and she sighed, sagging against Vincent. He still held her closely as he watched the other man’s departure.

  Finally, he breathed a heavy sigh of relief and stepped away from her. She leaned back against the tree in order to have some support. The absence of his strong arms and his body heat made a remarkable difference, and she felt... cold and empty.

  He blew out a gush of air between his lips and ran his fingers through his hair. “I must commend you for your quick thinking.”

  She bit her bottom lip to keep from laughing. She could never tell him that she’d been dreaming about kissing him for several months now.

  “I didn’t know what to do.” She shrugged. “That was all I could think of for a man and woman to be together in the dark.”

  He chuckled. “Yes, well... I think it worked. I just hope he didn’t recognize me as the sheriff.”

  “Why?” She reached out and touched his chest. “Isn’t a sheriff supposed to have a lover?”

  He cleared his throat and turned, breaking their contact again. He shifted from one foot to the other. Shadows were still on his face, but she would bet if she could see him clearly, his face would be red right now. She’d remembered hearing from Claudia that Vincent’s father had been a Chaplain during the war. Most likely, Vincent had been raised in a very religious family.

  Unfortunately, Frances couldn’t say the same for her family.

  “So,” she said, breaking the sudden silence, “what should we do about the information we overheard not too long ago?”

  His head snapped toward her and he cocked his head. “We will not do anything about it. However, I will.”

  She bunched her hands. He was going to be difficult about this, but she’d not relent. “Let me point out, Agent Brooks, that we are both involved now.”

  He gasped and stepped back. His eyes widened. “Why did you call me agent?”

  “Because I know you’re a Pinkerton agent.”

  The sun was starting to rise in the horizon, bringing with it more light. He took her hand and pulled her away from the trees. Once they were out of the shadows, his gaze ran over her. Within seconds, his mouth hung open. He was absolutely adorable.

  “You are Claudia’s maid from South Carolina.”

  “Actually,” Frances folded her arms, “I was Claudia’s maid until I heard that my parents were very ill and on their deathbeds. That’s when I came back home to Bonham. After all, someone needs to run the family business.”

  Vincent rubbed his chin. “And what of your brother? Were you honest when you said he was not in his right mind?”

  Her frown deepened. “I told you the truth – in a way. My younger brother has somehow been coerced to join Mr. Shipp’s rebels, which was why I was lurking around the bank. In reality, for my brother to join this gang, he most certainly is not in his right mind.”

  Vincent watched her closely, making her a little uncomfortable. Of course, she’d rather see him in the light than in the dark. He was one very handsome man. He was probably older than her by eight or nine years, but she wasn’t worried about their age span. She itched to run her fingers through his thick black hair, and his green eyes were wonderfully hypnotic, especially when he had looked at her while caring for her in South Carolina.

  “Yes, I believe your brother must not be in his right mind.”

  “Exactly.” She paused briefly. “And so like it or not, Vincent, we are in this together.”

  One side of his mouth lifted higher than the other when he smiled. “Actually, Frances, we are not in this together.”

  She clenched her teeth and folded her arms, breathing through her irritation. “But you’re a Pinkerton agent. Claudia mentioned that the agency is now pairing their agents up with women.” She stood a little taller. “I would make a great agent. I mean, look how well we worked together just a few minutes ago when Mr. Shipp noticed us.”

  Still grinning, Vincent shook his head. “I’m sorry, Frances, but I work alone. The agency isn’t pairing up women with their agents unless the men agree. And I do not agree. I work better by myself.”

  Oh, the infuriating man! Well, she would just have to prove him wrong. They belonged together, and she’d do all she could to make him see that, too.

  VINCE RODE ATOP HIS horse at a slow pace as he moved through town. Compared to Charleston, South Carolina, where he’d been helping his friend, Blake, Bonham was nothing but a piece of dust on the map. There was only one bank, one blacksmith, one livery, and two milliner shops. And thankfully, only one saloon. Being a sheriff in this town meant spending lonely and very boring days on his horse or at the jail. He’d arrested a few people and thrown them in jail, but it was because they were drunk and forgetting how to use their rifles.

  As much as he prayed the town would be appointed a new sheriff soon, Vince was glad for at least one thing – that he was close enough to keep an eye on Walter Shipp. And after what Vince had heard last night, he’d definitely keep a closer eye – and ear – on the crooked bank manager. Of course, it worried him that Frances also knew this information...

  That kiss...

  He groaned and shifted on the saddle. Although he hadn’t thought of a better plan to tell Walter Shipp of why a man and a woman would be alone in the dark, he shouldn’t have kissed Frances. And he really shouldn’t have enjoyed it.

  He remembered her from when she worked with Claudia. Frances had done her best to try and protect his friend’s wife from being brutally attacked by her cousin, and Frances was knocked unconscious by the brute. When Vince arrived on the scene, Blake was taking care of Claudia, and so Vince took care of Frances.

  She was a pretty young woman with auburn hair and big, brown eyes. He recalled her having the sweetest smile. But although he had taken the time to assist her, he hadn’t done it in any romantic way. He wasn’t interested in a relationship with her – or any woman. His heart was still healing from when he came home one day four years ago and found his pregnant wife shot in the head. Vince still hadn’t found his wife’s killer, but he wouldn’t give up until he caught the man – or woman.

  After Vince and Frances parted ways this morning, he waited for the telegraph office to open, and he sent Archie Gordon a message about what Vince had heard. He’d watch the bank carefully – especially the hidden room in the cellar – until more Pinkerton agents arrived.

  Vince had gone home and changed clothes, even put on a hat, in hopes that Shipp wouldn’t recognize him from the man who was passionately kissing a woman near the bank...

  What was I thinking?

  He pulled his horse to a stop and rubbed his moist forehead. Today’s heat would suffocate him, he was sure of it. But he had a job to do. He took an oath to support the community in upholding the law. He wouldn’t allow anyone to lead him differently or distract...

  His gaze stopped on a woman with auburn hair piled loosely into a bun on top of her head. She wore a lovely off-white blouse with ruffled sleeves, and a plain brown skirt. Her bustle bounced in rhythm to her steps as she hurried toward the bank. Hooked on her arm was a basket with a pink and white plaid towel folded over the top.

  He gripped the reins tighter and scowled. What was the confounded woman doing walking toward the bank – with a basket, no less? Although he didn’t need to know everything Frances did in a twenty-four hour period, she was being very suspicious right now, and of course, he had no other choice but
to follow her.

  Vince doubted Walter Shipp would recognize her as being the woman Vince was with when they were caught. Thankfully, she kept her face buried against his chest. Warmth slowly filled him. He could still feel her fast breaths that had passed the barriers of his shirt and had touched his skin.

  Shaking off the pleasantly disturbing feeling, he urged his horse toward the bank. When he reached the building, she had already entered. He dismounted and tied his horse to the post out front. From the corner of his eye, two wagons driven by men but filled with their wives and children, pulled around the back of the bank. Curiosity filled Vince and he strolled around to the back so he could see what was going on.

  Not far from the bank – and before reaching the thicket of trees – five wagons were parked in the open field. Blankets were laid on the ground, and the women folk prepared a luncheon for their men and families who seemed to be having a three-legged race.

  Vince frowned. Odd... since he didn’t think today was any particular special occasion. But since the families appeared not to be doing anything illegal, he moved back around to the front of the bank, walked up the steps, and entered the building.

  Two people stood in line to chat with one of the bank clerks. But Frances’ light laughter coming from the corner of the room, caught his attention. She stood visiting with Walter Shipp... well, flirting fit the description better. She laughed at something Shipp had said, and gently touched the man’s arm.

  Irritation flowed through Vince and he turned away from the scene. What was wrong with that woman? Did she purposely want to cause trouble for him?

  THREE

  VINCENT GRUMBLED UNDER his breath. What was the reason Frances purposely flirted with the man they both knew was in charge of the southern rebels? Not only that, the owner of the bank was older than Frances by at least fifteen years – nearly old enough to be her father, and yet she batted her eyelashes at him like a young girl who was collecting her a line of beaus.

  “Oh, Mr. Shipp. You are such a comical man. My father had mentioned you a few times when he was alive.”

  “Your father was a good patron.” Walter nodded. “We have certainly missed him.”

  “It does my heart good to hear you say such things.” She smiled and then glanced down at her basket. “I hope you don’t mind, but I made some cookies this morning. I thought you and your workers would like some.”

  “Miss Carlton, what a lovely gesture. Thank you.” Walter took the basket from her. “I assume you’re doing well.”

  “I am, thank you, Mr. Shipp.”

  “Then perhaps I will have my wife call on you during the week and invite you to dinner.”

  Frances nodded. “That would be wonderful.”

  Walter’s gaze moved past Frances and stopped on Vince. He hooked his thumbs in the pocket of his jeans and rocked back on his boots, giving the other man a nod.

  Walter looked back at Frances. “It’s been so nice talking to you, but it looks like our sheriff is here to talk to me.”

  Frances’ head whipped toward Vince and her eyes widened. He tipped his hat. “Miss Carlton.”

  She nodded. “Sheriff Brooks. What a pleasure it is to see you.”

  “And you, as well,” he said stiffly.

  “If you’ll excuse me now.”

  She sashayed past Vince, and he didn’t expel a relieved breath until she left the building. He turned back to Walter and moved closer.

  “What do I owe the honor this time, Sheriff?”

  “I was just checking up on things. In my wanderings this morning, I’d overheard that there was some kind of ruckus last night, here at the bank. I came to check to see if everything was all right.”

  Walter arched a thick black eyebrow as a grin touched his mouth. “Why, Sheriff... you were nearby early this morning. If there was a ruckus, wouldn’t you have heard it?”

  Embarrassment washed over Vince, but he tried not to show it. He couldn’t understand how Walter would have known it was him since he and Frances were in the shadow of the tree.

  He stepped closer and lowered his voice. “I would appreciate it if you forgot all about what you saw this morning.”

  Chuckling, Walter patted Vince’s shoulder. “Not to worry, Sheriff. I’m not a man who spreads rumors.”

  “I’m glad for that. But as it was, I didn’t hear anything before – or after – you’d caught us against the tree. That’s why I thought to ask you about it now.”

  “I’m sorry to report, but nothing is out of place at the bank, so I assume what you had overheard this morning was incorrect.”

  Vince tipped his hat to the bank owner. “Then I’m happy to know that nothing is amiss. Have a good day.”

  Walter smiled. “And to you, too, Sheriff.”

  Vince left the bank, hating how fake the man was. He makes everyone around him feel as though he can do no wrong. Thankfully, Vince knew differently.

  He glanced up and down the road, but there was no sign of Frances. He had a few questions to ask the little minx... especially since he’d been in town for almost seven months now, and yet he had not seen Frances until they met in the dark. However, she talked with Walter as if they were old friends. Something didn’t add up.

  As he meandered toward his horse, he scoped the area around him, wondering if she was hiding. An eerie feeling crawled over him, making him feel as though someone was watching him. He was tempted to glance back toward the bank to see if Walter was peeking out the window. Instead, Vince mounted his horse and pulled away from the bank slowly. Since he couldn’t see Frances, he’d have to make it a point to find her address and visit her.

  He urged the horse into a faster trot and rode toward the sheriff’s office. Only getting a few hours of sleep last night was starting to wear on him. He hoped his supervisor, Archie Gordon, would send backup soon... or better yet, that the governor of Texas would appoint another sheriff to this small town – someone trustworthy would be nice.

  He reached his office, dismounted, and tied his horse to the post. Sluggishly, he walked up the boardwalk, removing his hat and swiping his fingers through his hair. Holding back a yawn, he entered the office... and then came to a sudden halt.

  Frances stood in the middle of the room, looking his way. She didn’t appear surprised to see him at all. In fact, across her face was a congenial smile. Well, at least he wouldn’t have to hunt her down.

  “Miss Carlton.” He moved to his desk, hanging his hat on the coat rack on the way. “I’m delighted to see you here.”

  “You are? Why?”

  “Because I have a few questions for you.”

  She stepped toward his desk, holding her folded hands against her middle. “If you want to know why I took some cookies to Walter Shipp, it was because I need to get closer to him in order to really find out what he’s up to.”

  Vince must need to clean his ears out, because he certainly didn’t hear what he thought she’d said. “Pardon me? You want to get closer to him?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Not that way, of course.”

  “Then please tell me, Miss Carlton, because your words leave my imagination completely open.”

  Sighing, she folded her arms. “How else am I going to get more information about his gang of rebels unless I get closer to him and his family?”

  He shook his head and held up his hand, walking closer to her. “No, Miss Carlton. You will not be getting closer to him at all. You will return home like a good girl and wait for the Pinkerton agents to solve this case. I have sent word to my supervisor –”

  “Too much can happen while you’re waiting.” She stepped up to him and put her hand on his arm. “You need me, Vincent. I can get information from Mr. Shipp that you cannot.”

  He should really tell her not to be so personal with his name... and by touching him in such a way. They might have shared an amazing kiss, but it meant nothing. At least to him, anyway. But being upfront with her was pushed to the back of his mind the longer he stared into h
er beautiful eyes.

  Vince removed her hand from his arm, and yet, releasing her had slipped his mind somehow. “No, Miss Carlton. I don’t need you. I can also get information from him.”

  She shook her head. “Vincent, you’re the sheriff and Mr. Shipp is doing illegal activities. He’s not going to tell you anything. However, my parents were his friends. He’ll be open with me more than he’ll be with you.”

  Vince gritted his teeth. He really hated that she was right, and what was worse – he would have to admit it to her. No, he had to find a different way to go about this. He couldn’t allow her to put herself in danger. He was the agent. He was the one responsible for the people in Bonham, Texas, and he wasn’t about to let a woman overstep her boundaries.

  FRANCES HAD ALWAYS had an issue with men who thought women were only good for cooking and cleaning. One of the things she’d enjoyed about being Claudia’s maid was that she listened to Frances, and Claudia let her voice her opinion. It irritated Frances that Vincent was a man like most men she knew, and yet, she’d seemed to have given her heart to him when they met in South Carolina.

  Perhaps God was testing her patience right now. She couldn’t change Vince as well as changing stripes on a tiger... But perhaps she just needed to show him that she would make a great Pinkerton agent, and hopefully – and eventually – his wife.

  Vincent released a ragged breath and frowned. “You’re correct in thinking that Shipp is not going to trust me, especially now that he caught me near his bank kissing a woman...” He cleared his throat. “However, there are other ways I can go about getting information.”

  “And meanwhile,” she said, keeping the smile on her face, “he continues to lead his band of rebels and collects more of who-knows-what that they’re storing in the hidden cellar.” She wanted to let him know that she was firm in her decision, and although she loved it that he still held her hand, she slowly pulled it out of his grasp. “And so, I’m going to continue to do what I’ve planned, while you do whatever it is that you have planned. And maybe between the two of us, we’ll stop Mr. Shipp and his rebels from starting another war.”