An Agent For Cecily (The Pinkerton Matchmaker Book 8)

by Marie Higgins

  An Agent for Cecily

  The Pinkerton Matchmaker Series

  By Marie Higgins

  Copyright © 2018 by Marie Higgins

  Cover Art by Virginia McKevitt

  Edition License Notes

  This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author's work.

  There’s only one way to escape Cecily Sheldon’s insane family – take on someone else’s identity. Along with this new identity comes a new job. Of course, to become a Pinkerton Agent, she must marry a male agent who will train her. Now she needs to keep her true identity hidden from Broderick Tanner for fear he’ll arrest her along with her father and brothers. Perhaps living a double life wasn’t a good choice after all.

  PROLOGUE

  Utah, 1871

  Cecily Sheldon grumbled and moved away from the hearth, carrying the bucket full of ashes. The soot coating her skin made her hands itch, and the stench that clung to her clothes made her want to vomit. She didn’t even want to think about what her father and brothers did in the hearth after she’d gone to bed at night, but by the smell, she had a pretty good idea.

  She carried the bucket outside and dumped it in the patch of dead weeds that were frozen from the last frost. Most of the time, January weather in Utah couldn’t decide if it was winter or spring. So far this year, it was a cold winter.

  A light breeze teased the hairs that clung to her moistened brow and cheek. She’d been working nonstop since daylight. Actually, it was before daylight. Their rooster just wouldn’t stop squawking this morning.

  Using the back of her hand, she wiped the sweat off her forehead… realizing too late that the soot coating her hand had probably made her face even dirtier. What did it matter? It wasn’t like she wanted to impress anyone. She was past the age that most women married. At twenty-five, she was considered an old maid.

  Nobody would want her anyway. If they ever discovered what her father and brothers did for a living…

  She hurried back inside the log cabin and to the hearth again. Monday was reserved for cleaning out the fireplace and washing down the sides. Her father and brothers were filthy animals, and when they invited their friends over, the house turned into a pigsty.

  On her knees inside the hearth, she finished shoveling the remaining ashes. She held her breath for as long as possible, but coughed a few times to return the air into her lungs.

  A loud knock shook the front door, breaking the silence in the house. She jumped, bumping her head against the brick. A sting ricocheted through her skull and she quickly rubbed the sore spot as she pulled away. Grumbling under her breath, she moved to the door and opened it.

  At first the glare from the sun blocked the person at the door, and she used her hand to shade the brightness. When the man came into view, she sucked in a quick breath. He wore a dark blue frock coat, a black waistcoat, white shirt and blue necktie. It surprised her to see a gentleman with shiny boots at her house. Usually the people who came to visit were her father’s good-for-nothing friends – the kind that robbed banks and stagecoaches for the fun of it.

  The man in front of her quickly removed his derby hat, displaying a full head of sandy brown hair as he bowed slightly. His gaze moved over her, and his pleasant expression quickly changed. Disgust registered in his dreamy gray eyes. Even his smile appeared forced.

  Inwardly, Cecily groaned. She didn’t need to ask. No doubt she looked a fright. Then again, today was cleaning day. He would just have to understand that she wasn’t prepared for visitors.

  He straightened and cleared his throat. “Good morning. My name is Mr. Broderick Tanner, and I’m looking for Mr. Red Sheldon. I was told he lived here.”

  Fear shook through Cecily, but she tried to keep a straight face. She couldn’t let Mr. Tanner know how frightened she was at this very moment. Most people knew her father as Jack. If someone referred to him as Red, they were either part of her father’s gang of outlaws… or a lawman coming to arrest him.

  She scanned over him again and searched for signs of his true profession. The man’s bold gaze stayed on her, proving he was confident and had nothing to hide. The tone of his voice hadn’t wavered when he spoke, and determination was etched in his expression.

  Mr. Tanner was nothing like her father’s friends. Indeed, this man was a lawman.

  She knew the day would come when her criminal father and brothers were caught, but she’d hoped to have made a life for herself before then. But now… she wasn’t ready to live on her own.

  Since pretending was natural for her, it was easy to look confused. “I’m sorry sir, but nobody lives here by that name.”

  He arched an eyebrow. “This isn’t where Jack Sheldon lives?”

  She shook her head. “No. I reckon they moved out two months past. I’ve lived here for that long, but I never knew who was in this house before us.”

  “Us? So you’re not alone?” His gaze narrowed as it moved past her and swept through the front room.

  He didn’t believe her story. Distrust was evident in his eyes. She must make him believe. “I live with my grandparents. Thelma and LeRoy Masters. I’d have you speak with them, but they are in town at the moment.”

  Frowning, he scratched his strong chin. “That’s very odd. Someone in town just told me this was where I would find Red.”

  “I’m sorry, but they were mistaken. Perhaps it’s the house two miles up-stream.” She pointed in the direction. “I haven’t met our neighbors, but I’m sure my grandparents have.”

  He watched her closely. His scrutiny made her nervous, but she didn’t dare fidget because she’d inadvertently let him know she was lying. Finally, his face relaxed. He nodded and settled the hat on his head again.

  “Forgive me for interrupting your cleaning. It was nice to meet you.”

  She gave him a forced smile. “And you, too.”

  With a shaky hand, she closed the door and expelled an uneven breath. Too close. Her father and brothers had kept their family hidden for years, but once in a while, a lawman came looking. That’s when they packed up and left.

  Cecily had never approved of her outlaw family’s lifestyle. After Ma died when Cecily was ten, her father started robbing stagecoaches, and then when her brothers were old enough, they added banks to their list of targets. They had lived all over the United States – starting out in Tennessee, and ending in Utah. They never lived in one place long enough for her to make friends. Then again, how could she make friends when she had an unlawful family?

  She groaned and massaged the throb in her forehead. This was not the life she wanted. If only she could break away from her family and start over on her own. Unfortunately, the only skill she could claim was knife-throwing. How could she make money doing that?

  Today’s upset was the very thing that pushed her. She would leave. Soon. She didn’t want to be arrested just because she was the daughter of the famous outlaw Red Sheldon.

  Starting tomorrow, she’d look for her a new pathway. She just prayed there was indeed something out there for her.

  ONE

  Nevada, four months later

  Cecily slowed her horse as she rode up a knoll. The dry desert her father had made them live in these past four months had made her throat parched. The sun’s glare on her face would leave a burn, s
he just knew it.

  Why her father picked the hottest place on earth, she’d never know. Unless it was because he figured the lawman wouldn’t look for them here. Nevada had too many tumbleweeds, coyotes, and a lot of dry earth for her taste. The color green was non-existent in the scenery stretching out before her.

  If she was a lawman looking for outlaws, places like this would be the first spot she’d search. Why on earth would any normal person want to live in a place like this, unless they were trying to hide?

  Maybe that was the profession she should pursue. She’d make a great lawman… or law-woman.

  For these past few months, she’d been looking for a way to change her life. Her father and brothers were gone a lot, leaving her to fend for herself, and it was high time she broke away from them. She prayed that the small town a mile up ahead would have something for her. She was desperate. She’d do anything for money. Of course, she’d have to change her name. The name Sheldon made people cautious.

  As Cecily reached the top of the knoll, the horseless stagecoach standing in the middle of the trail caught her attention. The motionless bodies lying beside it and in the driver’s seat, made her heart sink.

  No! Panic pushed her shaking arms as she whipped the reins, urging the horse into a run. She prayed she’d be able to help, or save, someone’s life.

  About a year ago, she had the misfortune of witnessing a scene like this. The stagecoach had been robbed, and sadly, all the passengers had lost their lives.

  Under her breath, she cursed her father. Again. She’d bet good money that her family was responsible for this. Over the years, their crimes had doubled… and had become more violent. She didn’t want to believe they were heartless enough to kill, but she worried that it might have come to that.

  As she reached the scene, she stopped her horse, jumped down, and rushed toward the stagecoach. The door had been ripped off, and two people were inside – unmoving. The trunks from the passengers were lying on the ground, their clothes and other personal items scattered about.

  She stopped at the door and peered inside. One woman with dark brown hair appeared to be the same age as Cecily. Blood smeared across the woman’s pretty face. A gunshot wound stained her lovely blue velvet and white lace traveling gown.

  Cecily reached in and touched the woman’s hand. Still warm. Cecily yanked her hand back and gasped. This stagecoach robbery had recently happened. How awful!

  “Can you hear me?” She touched the young woman’s hand again, this time feeling for a pulse. There was none.

  The middle-aged woman sitting across the seat had streaks of silver in her black hair. But her white face and sightless eyes let Cecily know the woman was dead. Her white blouse and short-waisted pink Spencer jacket were covered with blood from her neck wound.

  No jewelry adorned these women. Their wrist-purses were also missing. The thieves had finished their nefarious work. Thoroughly.

  Tears stung Cecily’s eyes as she stared at the woman who looked to be her age. This lady once had a full life ahead of her, only to be snatched away by greedy ruthless men like her family. Where was the sense in this? Would the thieving murderers ever receive their comeuppance?

  Swallowing the knot of emotion lodged in her throat, Cecily pulled away and scanned the ground again. Women’s clothes were scattered around fancy trunks. The bandits must have searched for anything worth some money.

  Near one of the trunks on the ground, the edge of a white piece of paper moved along with the gentle breeze. A glob of dirt blocked the parchment and kept it from floating away. Immediately, she noticed the large letters across the top of the page – PINKERTON NATIONAL DETECTIVE AGENCY.

  Curious, Cecily picked up the letter and scanned the contents. The letter acknowledged Ruth Livingston’s interest in the agency, and gave instructions about coming to the Denver office to meet Mr. Archibald Gordon.

  Cecily glanced at the stagecoach again. Which woman was Ruth Livingston?

  She returned her attention to the letter and continued to read. Something mentioned in the third paragraph made Cecily gasp with surprise. Mr. Gordon had enclosed a train ticket to Denver.

  Her heartbeat accelerated. Ideas flashed through her head. For several months she’d wanted to leave her family and change her identity. Was this her way out? Dare she become Ruth Livingston and travel to Denver?

  Being a Pinkerton Agent sounded intriguing. She didn’t know the first thing about investigating a crime, but she knew the minds of criminals. Many nights, as she lay on a flimsy cot trying to sleep, she’d heard her father and his friends in the next room planning their upcoming heist. Their voices were loud, and she heard everything. She knew how these lowlife creatures thought. Not to mention, she knew where their hideouts were.

  Indeed, her knowledge would be something the Pinkerton Agency could use.

  Excitement jumped inside her chest, and a grin replaced her frown. Nobody would know she wasn’t Ruth Livingston, and since she’d be in Denver, nobody would recognize her, either.

  She glanced back at the women’s clothes scattered on the dry, desert land. The clothes belonging to the younger woman looked to be the same size as Cecily. Fate was giving her a different pathway to take. She needed to snatch it up immediately before it slipped away.

  She quickly scoped the area and listened for signs of another stagecoach, or perhaps a rescue team. All she heard were squawking vultures.

  What about Ruth Livingston’s family? Had the woman left an uncaring family, just as Cecily planned to? Why else would a young woman want to sign up to be a Pinkerton Agent? Perhaps Miss Livingston was running away from something awful in her life, too.

  Before anything could change her mind, Cecily gathered the fancy clothes that would fit her. When she lifted a shawl, two thick strips of paper floated to the ground. The train ticket! Along with it was a telegram that appeared to be confirmation for a room at Denver’s Grand Hotel.

  Her heartbeat quickened, and hope grew inside her chest. She picked them up and clutched them to her bosom. Fate was definitely smiling on her today. She had a little money – only because she’d taken it from her drunken father before he’d left the house an hour ago – but this would get her to Denver, Colorado, so that she could start a new life.

  A new life as a Pinkerton Agent.

  She placed a hand over her fiercely beating heart. She was determined to make the best female agent Pinkerton – or Mr. Archibald Gordon – had ever seen.

  * * * *

  Broderick Tanner paced Archibald’s office, wringing his hands against his waist. Rick had been called to the Denver office on an urgent request. Archie stated in his telegram that he had some wonderful news to share. Archie also hinted at a promotion.

  Rick had been working as a Pinkerton agent for six years now. He’d been all over the Northwest, catching outlaws and making arrests. His superiors had praised Rick and encouraged him to do more in order to get the attention of Allan Pinkerton himself. And Archie was Allan’s right-hand man; meeting Archie was almost as good as meeting Allan.

  The squeak of the door opening halted Rick’s pacing. A tall, reed-thin man with reddish hair, sauntered into the room, reaching out his hand in greeting.

  “You must be Broderick Tanner, the agent I’ve heard so much about,” he said in a Scottish brogue.

  Smiling, Rick shook the man’s hand. He’d always thought of himself as a tall man, and Archie was only a couple inches shorter. “Please call me Rick.”

  Archie closed the door before walking around behind his desk. He pointed to the empty chair across from him.

  “Take a seat.”

  Rick did as he was asked. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”

  “I’ll say the same.” Archie nodded. “Your name has been passed to me as an authority-figure who not only knows how to take responsibility, but a man who is always in control.”

  Rick straightened his shoulders, loving the compliments. “Thank you, sir. I do enjoy being a
n agent.”

  “I need more men who are willing to do anything to further their careers.”

  Rick paused. Why was there a catch to the man’s voice? And, Rick also wondered about the man’s excessive eye-blinking – obviously a nervous tic. But why was Archie acting nervous right now?

  “Indeed. I’m that man, Mr. Gordon.”

  “Are you married or planning to marry soon?”

  Rick shook his head. “As most Pinkerton Agents, I’m married to my career.”

  Archie’s smile widened. “That’s exactly what I want to hear.” He rubbed his hands together and his green eyes sparkled with mischief. “I have the perfect promotion for you.”

  Holding his breath, Rick waited to hear the good news. This time when Archie looked directly into Rick’s eyes, there was no nervous tic.

  “I’m looking for men,” Archie continued, “who will train some special agents and turn them into the responsible agents who will make Allan Pinkerton proud.”

  “Then you’ve chosen the right man for the job.” Rick puffed out his chest a little more.

  “Splendid.” Archie picked up a piece of paper. “In a few hours, the front office will be filled with these special agents I’ve contacted to work for us. I shall team you with one of them, and you’ll be their trainer. The two of you will work together day and night until you’re satisfied your partner is completely qualified to wear the Pinkerton badge.”

  “I accept the challenge.”

  “There’s just one catch.” Archie paused. His eyes started blinking nervously again. “These special agents are… women.”

  Rick’s breath caught in his throat. Had he heard correctly? Probably not. He shook his head. “Pardon me? Did you say women?”

  Archie steepled his fingers on the desktop and met Rick’s gaze directly. “Mr. Pinkerton wants more female agents.” He chuckled lightly. “Although it sounds highly irregular and almost scandalous, it really makes sense. Nobody will suspect a woman of being a secret agent. These women agents will be able to hear things and talk to people that men aren’t able to speak with. Just imagine all of the things they can do.” His green eyes lit up again. “But Pinkerton isn’t going to pair them with his best male agents, directly. That would ruin the women’s reputations because they’d be with a man, alone, most of the day and evening in training. So, to fix this problem, we’ve decided to have our male agents marry these women—”