An Agent for Kitty

by Nerys Leigh

  She gave a squeak of surprise as he lifted her, stiffening against his chest.

  “Don’t worry, I’ve got you,” he said softly. “I won’t let you fall.”

  She turned to him and suddenly their faces were only inches apart and his heart was pounding.

  Slowly, she relaxed in his embrace, leaning against his chest and sliding her arms around his neck. “I know you won’t.”

  Summoning a smile, he forced his feet into motion. She may have relaxed, but he was now thrumming like a bow string. He hadn’t anticipated how much having her in his arms would affect him. The faster he got her across the river, the better. Before he embarrassed himself.

  Reaching the river’s edge, he placed one foot into the water. He hissed in a breath as the frigid flow swirled around his ankle. At least the cold might help to distract him from the woman in his arms.

  He picked his way carefully across the river. The deepest point here was less than a foot, but some of the rocks were slick, and he didn’t want to fall with Kitty trusting him to keep her dry. It didn’t help his concentration at all when, about halfway across, she rested her head on his shoulder.

  What was wrong with him? He’d enjoyed many a heated clinch with a beautiful woman in his lifetime, but none of those had affected him the way having Kitty rest her head against him did. Something about her trust in him, when she was so timid and reserved around everyone else. Was this what it meant to be a husband? To have a woman place her confidence in him to care for her and keep her safe?

  He had to admit, he’d always wondered why a man would settle for just one woman when there were so many wonderful ones out there, but he was beginning to understand now. Although for the life of him he couldn’t grasp why he should feel this way, since his marriage to Kitty wasn’t even real.

  He felt a strange mixture of relief and disappointment when they reached the far side of the river and he stepped onto dry land again. On the one hand, he’d made it across without letting on how much her proximity was affecting him. But on the other, he now had to put her down.

  He wondered if she’d mind if he carried her everywhere from now on.

  “Thank you,” she said when he lowered her gently to the ground. She looked down. “You should get dry before your toes fall off.”

  He followed her gaze to the bright red skin of his feet. Now he’d let her go, the cold struck him again. “Good idea. I do like having toes.”

  They made their way to a nearby rock so he could sit. Before he could do anything, Kitty lowered to the ground and began to dry his feet with the hem of her dress.

  It felt so good that it took him a few seconds to get any words out. “You don’t have to do that. You’ll get your dress all dirty.”

  She smiled up at him. “It’s the least I can do for my knight in shining armor who valiantly bore me across the perilous torrent.”

  Chuckling, he removed his boots from around his neck and set about untying the laces. “Reading a book about heroic knights and damsels in distress?”

  “Ivanhoe. You’d make the perfect knight, if you had a sword and a suit of armor.”

  He liked the idea of being her knight. “I don’t think you’d be my damsel in distress, though.”

  Having finished drying his feet, she rose to sit on the rock beside him. “I wouldn’t?”

  “Nope. My Kitten would have her own sword and be fighting dragons at my side. Maybe she’d even be rescuing me.”

  She watched him pull on his socks and boots before replying. “I think I’d like that.”

  He knew he would.

  Standing, he held out his hand. “Let’s get this interview with Ashwood over with, then we can come back and you can carry me across.”

  The musical sound of her laughter made him smile. It may have been his imagination, but it seemed a little louder than usual. And this time, she didn’t even cover her mouth.

  ~ ~ ~

  The camp on the other side of the valley looked almost identical to Louis Webster’s, with smaller tents for sleeping clustered around a larger wall tent for everything else. Ben wondered if there was some master plan somewhere for fossil hunters that everyone had to follow.

  An inquiry of a passing man sent them in the direction of a smaller tent beside the main one. When they reached it, the flap was closed.

  Ben scratched on the canvas and called out, “Mr. Ashwood?”

  “Yes? What?” a voice said from inside.

  Ben pushed back the flap.

  A man looked up from where he stood hunched over a table in the center of the tent. “Who are you?”

  Ben held open the flap for Kitty to enter and followed her in. “Mr. Ashwood, I’m Ben Riley and this is my wife. We’re from the Pinkerton Detective Agency. Our colleagues may have told you about us?”

  Mr. Ashwood frowned at them as he straightened. “You’re from Webster’s camp.”

  “We’ve been hired to investigate there, yes. A dinosaur skull has gone missing.”

  “I heard about that. And I suppose you’re here because they told you I did it. Typical.” He pushed a long strand of graying black hair back into place where it had been combed across in a futile attempt to disguise his balding head. “That charlatan will take any opportunity to try to hide the fact that he doesn’t have any idea what he’s doing.”

  Ben glanced at Kitty standing quietly beside him, her gaze roaming around the tent. She seemed to have a knack for noticing things.

  “Charlatan?” he said, moving his eyes back to Ashwood.

  “Webster!” He waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. “Likes to call himself a paleontologist, as if that uneducated oaf could even spell the word.”

  It seemed the animosity between the camps went both ways.

  “Your two operations don’t seem to like each other very much.” Ben said. “Why is that?”

  “Why is it?” Ashwood thumped a finger onto a map on the table. “This is my valley. I was here first. I found the first fossils. And then Webster barges in and starts digging like he owns the place. It’s pure luck he found that Trachodon before I did. That skeleton should have been mine. I’ll bet Webster won’t even assemble it correctly. Man doesn’t know his dorsal vertebrae from his caudal vertebrae.”

  He snorted as if this was the height of paleontological humor. For all Ben knew, it was.

  “So it would be fair to say that you regard that dinosaur as rightfully belonging to you?”

  “If there was any justice in the world then it would.” Ashwood narrowed his eyes. “But that doesn’t mean I took it. Separating the skull from the rest of such a magnificent beast would be tantamount to blasphemy. I’d sooner admit I couldn’t tell the difference between a Megalosaurus and a Hadrosaurus.”

  Ben assumed that would be a bad thing. “What about the rest of your people? Would any of them commit dinosaur blasphemy?”

  Ashwood lifted his chin. “Certainly not. I only employ the most trustworthy of men. Every one of them is as dedicated to scientific discovery as I am. Unlike that bunch of ruffians Webster consorts with. If you want to know who stole that skull, you should look to your own side.”

  Ben could have said that he and Kitty weren’t on any side and they were just there to investigate, but there really was no point.

  He glanced at her. “Did you want to ask Mr. Ashwood anything?”

  She’d been completely silent throughout the entire questioning, but he knew she’d followed every word.

  “Just one thing. If Mr. Webster is as incompetent as you say, why do you have a copy of his book?” She indicated a bookcase behind Ashwood.

  Ben squinted at the titles. How could she even read them way over there? He didn’t know Webster had even written a book, much less what it looked like.

  Ashwood folded his arms then unfolded them again and rubbed the back of his neck. “I… um… as a scientist I am obligated to read all the material in my field, no matter how inexpert the writing and lacking in knowledge the writer. I simp
ly have it to complete my library, that’s all.”

  Ben didn’t need his years as a Pinkerton agent to tell he was lying.

  “Well, thank you for your time, Mr. Ashwood,” he said. “We’ll leave you to your work.”

  Ashwood’s only response was a grunt.

  “Think he did it?” Ben asked Kitty, once they were back outside and away from the tent.

  “No,” she replied without hesitation. “He’s frustrated that he didn’t find the dinosaur, but everything in that tent suggests he’s dedicated to the fossils. I think he was telling the truth about not separating the skull from the rest of the skeleton. He might steal the whole thing, if he could, but not just one part.”

  “I agree,” he said, pleased that she’d come to the same conclusion he had. “But the other men here, I don’t know about.” He looked around at the small town of tents. “Although it would be difficult to hide the skull here without anyone noticing.”

  “Not to mention getting it over the river unseen,” she said. “Mr. Miles said it weighs around two hundred pounds. That can’t be easy to move.”

  “Speaking from the experience of carrying you across, you’re right.”

  She gave his arm a light slap, grinning at his teasing. “I do not weigh two hundred pounds!” Her smile turned to a small frown. “Do I? I’m not sure what two hundred pounds would be like.”

  He rubbed her shoulder, feeling the bone through her dress. “You don’t even weigh half that. Didn’t you ever eat before you came here?”

  He’d meant it as a joke, but she looked away, all trace of humor gone. “I ate. Just… I didn’t always have the money for much food.”

  His gut fell. It was true that he didn’t know anything about her background, but he’d assumed she’d lived with her parents before she arrived in Denver, like most other unmarried young women did. Evidently, he was wrong.

  He wanted to ask her about her past, but this wasn’t the place and he didn’t want to pry. When she trusted him more, maybe she’d tell him on her own.

  “Well, you can have everything you want to eat now. We’ll get you up to two hundred pounds in no time.”

  To his relief, she smiled. “You’ll regret that if you have to carry me across a river again.”

  He couldn’t imagine ever regretting carrying her, at any weight. “Never. By the way, how did you know Ashwood had a copy of Webster’s book? I couldn’t even see the titles from where we were.”

  “Neither could I, but Mr. Webster had five copies in his bookcase. I saw a book in Mr. Ashwood’s that was the same size and color and made an assumption.”

  Despite her observational skills having nothing to do with him, pride still filled him. “That is very good. You’re going to make a great detective.”

  “Ben!”

  At the sound of his name, he looked round to see Jeff and Hallie emerging from between two tents.

  Hallie rushed up to Kitty and gave her a hug, which seemed to take Kitty by surprise. Tentatively, she hugged her back.

  “Thank goodness, another woman,” Hallie said. “I know it’s only been a day, but I’m drowning in men here. Much longer and I’ll start growing a beard and belching in public.”

  Kitty lifted her fingers to her mouth as she giggled.

  Hallie grasped her hand and tugged her away. “Come on, let’s go and talk where these men can’t hear us.”

  “So what are you doing over here in enemy territory?” Jeff asked.

  Ben moved his eyes from the women where they’d stopped out of earshot and were now deep in conversation. “We came to question Ashwood about the missing skull. Most of the men in our camp seem to think he stole it.”

  Jeff shook his head. “I have to admit, I had no idea digging up dinosaur bones was so competitive. Ashwood’s so possessive he won’t even let the other diggers use his tools.”

  “I seem to recall you not wanting me to use your gun that time in Cheyenne.”

  “That was completely different. Touching a man’s gun is tantamount to touching his wife.” Jeff glanced at Hallie.

  Ben snorted a laugh. “I’m not sure if you think too much of your gun or too little of your wife. So what do you think? Could anyone here have taken the skull?”

  Jeff moved his gaze from the women. “I don’t know. How big is it?”

  “Around three feet long and a couple of feet wide. It was packed in a crate.”

  “In that case, probably not. They have a tent for storing the bones, but there’s nothing that size in there right now. It would be hard to hide something that big in one of the other tents, but I’ll keep an eye out for it.”

  Ben nodded his thanks. “So how’s it going with Hallie?”

  Jeff glanced at the two women again. “Good, I think. We had a bit of a rough start, but things are improving. How about you and Kitty?”

  Ben smiled as he followed Jeff’s gaze to their wives. “I know it’s only been a couple of days, but I like having her around. She’s fun, and smart too. It’s nice to have someone on a case with me.” He gave Jeff a pointed look. “Especially someone who doesn’t snore.”

  “Hey, I do not snore. It was just that one time when I had that horrible cold.” He looked back at the women. “Do you think they’re talking about us?”

  Kitty and Hallie glanced in their direction.

  Ben suddenly felt as if he was being judged. “I think that’s a good bet.”

  “What do you think they’re saying?”

  Still looking at Ben and Jeff, Hallie said something to Kitty and the two women burst into giggles.

  Ben turned his back to them. “It’s probably best we don’t know.”

  Chapter Seven

  There was still more than an hour until lunch by the time they returned to their own camp, so Kitty and Ben headed for the tent where the bones were washed, measured, studied, and finally packed into storage crates before being sent east by train to Mr. Fink and the experts who would study them further.

  A man with a rifle slung from his shoulder stood outside the entrance. Kitty remembered his name as Mr. Dudley.

  He tipped his hat as they approached. “Morning, Mrs. Riley. Mr. Riley.”

  Before being married, Kitty would never have considered how different a name could make her feel. But every time someone called her Mrs. Riley, a little bubble of happiness blossomed in her chest. It was like being a new person.

  “Good morning,” Ben replied. “Is there always a guard here?”

  “Day and night. Mr. Webster doesn’t want anyone making off with his fossils.”

  “And all the guards also work on the excavations?”

  “Yup. We have a roster. Everyone gets guard duty once every two weeks.”

  “Do you know who was on duty the night the skull was taken?”

  “No, but Mr. Hall would have the roster. You should ask him.” He smiled at Kitty. “I hope you’re enjoying your stay here, ma’am.”

  After a lifetime of intentionally fading into the background, she still wasn’t used to people addressing her for no specific reason. As a Pinkerton agent, she supposed she’d have to get used to it. She’d hardly be able to investigate if she never spoke to anyone.

  “I am, thank you,” she replied. “Everyone is being very friendly and helpful.”

  His smile grew. “I’m glad to hear that. If you ever need anything, you just ask. I’ll be happy to help.”

  She opened her mouth to thank him again, but Ben spoke before she could.

  “Mind if we go inside and take a look around?”

  Mr. Dudley stepped aside. “Not at all. Go right on ahead.”

  He tipped his hat to her again as they walked into the tent.

  “Everyone is being friendly and helpful to you,” Ben muttered once they were inside. “Me, they couldn’t care less about.”

  She looked around them. “You’re imagining things.”

  “You’re really going to have to work on your observational skills if you’re going to be a Pin
kerton agent,” he said, his twitching lips clearly stifling a smile.

  She glanced sideways at him. “There’s nothing wrong with my observational skills.”

  He swept a hand around to encompass the tent. “So tell me what you see.”

  What she saw was a pile of sealed and addressed packing crates, and another pile of empty crates waiting to be filled. Two long tables took up some of the space, along with shelves of tools and equipment. Buckets and two large basins sat on one table, obviously where the finds were cleaned. Beside the table sat a tin bathtub, probably for the bigger bones. A plethora of cleaned bones were arranged on a large canvas sheet spread over the packed earth floor, each one sporting a paper label attached with string.

  Kitty suspected, however, that Ben didn’t mean any of those obvious things when he asked what she saw, so she turned in a slow circle and willed herself to concentrate.

  Ever since he’d carried her across the river and back again, she was having trouble focusing on anything other than how it felt to be in his arms. She would have been more than happy for him to carry her everywhere from now on. She’d been trying to think up an excuse to go back there, so he’d have to carry her across the river again.

  Attempting to banish the lingering memory of Ben’s strong arms wrapped around her, she let the details of the tent’s interior ebb and flow in her consciousness, some features sparking ideas, others receding when they didn’t rise above the mundane. This was her skill, and she was good at it. When she wasn’t so distracted, of course.

  “The crate containing the skull was taken by one man, on his own,” she said. “He was careful with it. None of the other boxes were opened and there are no labels to say what’s inside, so he already knew which one he wanted. There’s no damage to the walls, meaning he must have entered and exited through the door.”

  “Very good,” Ben said. “I just have one question – how do you know it was only one man and that he was careful with it?”

  She indicated where a crate had scored the dirt. Plenty of people had trampled over the tracks in the days since the theft, but she could still see enough by the pile of packed crates. “See the marks there? The crate was dragged. If there’d been more than one person, they would have lifted it. And the marks are even and neat, as if he was moving slowly. I think he didn’t want to jostle the skull and risk it being damaged.”