by Nerys Leigh
“Ben…” Kitty began.
“Don’t tell me it wasn’t you,” he growled, advancing on Mr. Hall once more.
She tried again. “Ben…”
“You were seen coming back from moving the skull, and now you’re trying to scare us away. Well I don’t scare that easily.” He grasped Mr. Hall’s shirt and raised his fist again.
Kitty grasped his arm. “It wasn’t him.”
He paused. “What?”
“Look at him. He doesn’t have any dirt on him.”
Ben’s eyes flicked down to Mr. Hall’s boots and back up again.
“He had to get down from the plateau to get back here,” she went on. “He could only have been a couple of minutes ahead of us, but he doesn’t have a speck of dirt on him.”
Ben frowned at Mr. Hall. “Was it you who lured us to the gully and pushed the rocks down on us?”
“What? No!” He shook Ben’s grip free from his shirt.
Kitty bent to pick up the ledger he’d dropped and pulled the note they’d found in the gully from her pocket. “It’s not his handwriting. Look.”
She held both out for Ben to see.
“I’ve been here for an hour,” Mr. Hall said. “So whatever happened to you, it wasn’t me.”
“He’s telling the truth,” Mr. Green added. “I’ve been here the whole time. He hasn’t left.”
Clearly frustrated, Ben muttered something under his breath, turned on his heel, and strode from the ten.
“Sorry,” Kitty said to Mr. Hall, throwing him an apologetic smile as she hurried after her husband.
She caught up with Ben in their tent. Her empty carpet bag was open on her cot and he was stuffing her clothes into it.
“What are you doing?”
He didn’t look at her. “You’re going back to Denver.”
She stared at him. “I’m what?”
“I can’t do my job while you’re in danger. I won’t be responsible for you getting hurt.”
“You’re sending me back? Just like that?” When he didn’t answer, she took hold of his arm and pulled him round to face her. “The first sign of danger and you’re sending me back?”
He shook her hand free. “That wasn’t just a ‘first sign of danger’. You could have been killed.”
“So could you!”
“I’m a Pinkerton agent. I’m used to danger.”
“I’m going to be a Pinkerton agent. I need to get used to danger. You can’t just send me away because I see some!”
“You’ll only become an agent if I say you’re up to it.”
She reeled back as if he’d pushed her. “You’re going to stop me from becoming an agent?”
He pressed his lips together, looking away.
“Is that what you think of me?” Tears brimmed in her eyes, her voice trembling. “That I’m too weak to be a Pinkerton agent?”
Shaking his head, he didn’t reply.
She backed away from him, from the one person she’d thought believed in her. From the one person she wanted most of all to believe in her.
“Then I guess there isn’t any more to say. But if you think I’m just going to let you stop me, then you don’t know me very well.”
Turning away, she ran from their tent.
~ ~ ~
Tears of frustration streamed down Kitty’s cheeks as she marched up the track that led to the ridge above the camp.
How could Ben send her back to Denver at the first sign of any danger? Was that really what he thought of her? That she was a timid, fearful little girl who had no courage at all and jumped at every tiny thing?
Yes, she was timid. Her upbringing had made her that way. But it had also given her an inner strength that went beyond her fears. If it hadn’t, she would never have applied to be a Pinkerton agent. She would have stayed where she was in Cincinnati, cowering in her tiny room every night, her fingers sore and calloused from endless hours of sewing.
She may have been many things, but she wasn’t a coward, and it was Ben who had made her realize that.
Well, she wouldn’t let him stop her from becoming an agent. She’d tell Mr. Gordon they couldn’t work together and ask him to give her another training agent, one who didn’t treat her like a china doll.
One she wouldn’t fall in love with.
Not paying attention to the rocky track, her vision blurred by tears, she stumbled and landed on her hands and knees. Pain stabbed into her palm where a sharp rock bit into her flesh, but she paid it no mind.
Pushing to her feet again, she resumed her angry march up the track.
At the top, she turned to the west where the sun was edging towards the horizon, painting the wispy clouds red and orange. The stunning vista helped to calm her raging thoughts a little, and she drew in a deep breath of the clear air.
There was a flat rock a short way from the place where the track exited onto the plateau and she walked over to it to sit, wiping the backs of her hands over her wet cheeks.
She hated it when she cried out of frustration. Crying when she was upset was one thing. That was normal. But crying when she was angry or frustrated was just annoying. It made her appear even weaker than she already did.
She’d been sitting on the rock for a couple of minutes, watching the sky change color, when she heard footsteps plodding up the track. She hastily wiped the remains of her tears from her skin.
Ben crested the plateau and stopped, his eyes on her.
She fixed her gaze on the sky, purposely not looking at him. If she looked at him she might burst into tears again, and that was the very last thing she wanted to do.
He made his way to the rock and sat silently beside her. After a few seconds, he took hold of her hand and turned it over to reveal the congealed blood where the rock had pierced her skin when she fell. He pulled a clean handkerchief from his pocket and began to gently wipe the dirt from the wound.
For over a minute they sat there in silence while he cleaned her palm. Finally, he folded the handkerchief into a pad and pressed a clean spot to the small cut which was now bleeding again.
His eyes on her hand nestled in his, he drew in a deep breath and released it in a sigh. “I’m sorry.”
She glanced at him sideways.
“I had no right to say any of that,” he said. “It was just… seeing you in danger scared me so badly. I wasn’t thinking straight.” He closed his eyes briefly. “You were so brave back there, as brave as any agent I’ve met. You saved my life. But I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to you.”
“You seem to be doing all right,” she said, nodding at her hand where he still held the handkerchief to her palm.
He smiled a little but said nothing.
After a moment’s hesitation, she leaned her head against his shoulder, moving her gaze back to the sunset. How could she stay angry at him when all he wanted was to keep her safe?
His arm moved to wrap around her shoulders and she relaxed into his embrace.
“I grew up in an orphanage,” she said. “The Denton Home for Destitute Children in Cincinnati.”
“Denton? Like your surname?”
“Not my real name. I was a foundling, abandoned as a baby on the doorstep. ‘Kitty’ was embroidered on the blanket I was wrapped in, so that’s what they called me. Not even Katherine, just Kitty. But the truth is that could have been anyone’s blanket. Since I didn’t have a surname, they named me after the orphanage. I’ll never know what my real name is.
“I learned young that being invisible, staying quiet in the background and never asserting myself or making a fuss, was the easiest way to keep people from bothering me. Mostly it worked; sometimes it didn’t. I know I seem like I’m afraid all the time, and I thought I was, but since we met you’ve made me realize that I’m not as weak as I thought I was. I don’t think I’ll ever be very confident, but I think I can be strong. I want to be strong. I know I can be a good Pinkerton agent if you’ll give me the chance.”
His arm tighte
ned around her. “Oh, Kitten, you aren’t weak. I’ve never thought that, and I’m sorry for making you feel like I did. I know how strong you are, and I want you to know it too. But it scares me, because I also want you to be safe.” He was quiet for a few seconds. “But you deserve to do whatever you want to. I won’t make you go back or tell Archie you can’t be an agent. Just promise me you’ll be careful?”
Closing her eyes, she breathed out in relief. “If there’s anything I can do, it’s be careful, believe me.”
He turned his head to kiss her hair and murmured, “Good.”
They watched the color-changing sky in comfortable silence. Kitty absorbed every detail; the feel of his arm wrapped around her, the way his body moved against her as he breathed, the warmth flowing through the layers of clothing between them. In the future, when they were no longer together, she would remember this evening. And she would cherish this as the time when she finally knew what it was to be happy, if only for a short while.
“I’ve never thought about how important having a name is,” Ben said after a while. “I guess it makes you feel like you belong to someone. I have my parents’ name and it marks me as belonging to them. In a good way.”
She’d known that all her life. Having the name Denton marked her as belonging to the orphanage, even after she left it. She’d always hated it.
“Benjamin Riley is a fine name,” she said.
He shifted beside her. “Well, actually, my name isn’t Benjamin.”
She lifted her head from his shoulder. “It isn’t?”
Looking awkward, he darted his gaze away. “Ben is short for Ebenezer. I’ll give you a moment to giggle.”
She did now want to giggle, but only because he seemed so embarrassed. “Ebenezer is a fine name. Lots of men are named Ebenezer.”
“I hate it. Admit it, the first thing you thought when I said it was Mr. Scrooge.”
She clamped her lips together, trying not to laugh. Scrooge was the first thing she’d thought, but only because she loved Charles Dickens’ novels.
“A Christmas Carol is a wonderful book.” Despite her best efforts, a snort of laughter punctuated her sentence.
He heaved an exaggerated sigh. “Go ahead and laugh. I’ll wait.”
She erupted into giggles, pressing her forehead to his shoulder. After a few seconds, his body began to shake as he chuckled with her.
“It’s really not so bad,” she said.
“It is, but it’s all right. I’m used to it.” He dipped his head to look into her eyes. “But if you ever mention this in the presence of any of the other agents, I’ll never speak to you again. If they knew my name was Ebenezer, that’s all they’d ever call me.”
The knowledge that he’d shared something with her that he never shared with anyone else set her heart fluttering. But at least she wasn’t blushing.
She pressed her palm to her chest. “I promise that your secret is safe with me.”
“Thank you,” he said solemnly, and then smiled, which set her heart fluttering even more.
She lowered her eyes to where he still held the handkerchief to her hand. “I’ve liked having a real name, even if it is just for a little while. I like being Kitty Riley.”
He paused before answering. “I think Kitty Riley is a really good name.”
So did she. And with every day she spent with him, she wished more and more that things were different, and that she could keep his name for the rest of her life.
Chapter Thirteen
The next morning when Kitty awoke, Ben was sitting on his cot, watching her. His shirt was buttoned and tucked into his waistband, and his usual playful demeanor missing. He looked tired.
She sat up. “Is something wrong?”
He rubbed his face, his gaze dropping to the floor between them. “I didn’t sleep very well. Nightmares. I can’t stop thinking about what happened yesterday. I’m afraid something will happen to you and you won’t be able to defend yourself.”
“You could teach me how.” Up until now, she’d kept herself safe largely by hiding or running away. While that had mostly worked, she knew she’d need to do more as a Pinkerton agent.
“That’s just what I’ve been thinking,” he said. “I should have done it before.”
He rose, walked across to her, and crouched down to press a kiss to her forehead. Although this time it seemed he lingered longer than usual.
“Let’s forget about the case for today. We’ll start after breakfast.” A smile edged past his melancholy. “I’m going to teach my Kitten how to use her claws.”
~ ~ ~
Leaning to one side, Kitty hooked her right hand under Ben’s wrist, grasped the barrel of the gun with her left, and thrust it backwards.
His grip released and she took a quick step back, passing the unloaded revolver to her right hand to aim at him.
He raised his palms in surrender. “Please don’t shoot me, scary Pinkerton agent lady!”
She laughed at the idea anyone would ever think her scary. But still, she was beginning to feel a little tougher, as if she now had more in her defensive arsenal than hiding or running away. “Did I put enough force into it that time?”
“I let go, didn’t I?”
“But did you let go just to show me what it would be like? Or did you let go because you had to?”
He rubbed at his wrist with a slight grimace. “I let go because I had to, believe me.”
The smile dropped from her face. “Did I hurt you?”
He reached out to tweak her nose. “A little bit, but that’s the whole point. Just imagine me as the big bad villain you’re saving the world from.” He took the revolver from her. “Let’s take a break. All this physical exertion is getting to me.”
He dropped the gun into his holster and they walked to the blanket they’d spread out in the shade of a tree a little way from the camp. He sat down and she joined him, her eyes following the movement as he pulled off his hat and ran one hand through his blond hair.
Tearing her gaze away, she removed her own hat and placed it beside his on the blanket.
She looked at the river where it gently meandered between its rocky banks. “It’s so pretty here. I’ve never spent much time outside the city, but I like the peace and quiet.”
He followed her gaze. “It reminds me a little of my folks’ farm, near Chicago. Not the scenery, that’s a lot different there, but the quiet. It’s a mile from the nearest neighbors and there are places where all you can hear is birdsong and the breeze in the trees. If my brothers aren’t around, that is.”
Other than the revelation that his brother had been in the war, he’d never spoken about his family. She was burning to know more about his life, but she’d been nervous to ask him before, in case he thought it inappropriate. But since he’d brought up the subject, it would be all right now. Wouldn’t it?
“How many brothers do you have?” she asked, before she could talk herself out of it.
“Five.” He laughed when her mouth fell open in surprise. “Our mother is a saint. She’s also the most formidable woman I know. Even when we were young and very, very boisterous, she never had to raise her voice. Just one look could have us all quiet. Not that I’m saying we were perfectly behaved. I’d be lying if I said that.”
Kitty had a sudden desire to know if Mrs. Riley would approve of her as a wife for her son.
Ben leaned back on his elbows and looked up at her. “She’d like you.”
Could he read her mind? She certainly hoped not. “Any sisters?”
“Nope, just us six boys.”
She gave him a speculative look. “Let me guess; you’re the youngest. No, wait.” She thought for a moment. “Second youngest.”
His eyebrows rose as he smiled. “Exactly right. How’d you know?”
“Second youngest is far enough down to be thoughtful and kind like you are, but you also have an air of authority about you sometimes, like you’ve had someone to boss around.”
He
burst into laughter. “My youngest brother would agree with you there.”
“So what took you to Denver?” Now she’d got him talking, she wanted to know as much as possible.
He shifted onto his side to face her, propping his head up on his elbow. “When I first left home, I worked on a cattle ranch, as I told you.”
“But you really don’t like cows,” she said, remembering their first real conversation, in the library back at the Pinkerton headquarters.
“Yes. Although to be fair to the cattle, they also really don’t like me. It’s a mutual dislike. Anyway, I could have gone back home, but I was nineteen and too proud to admit that leaving had been a mistake. So I went to the closest place where I could find work, which was Chicago. Tried a lot of different jobs before I ended up at the Pinkerton office. I figured being an agent would be the most exciting thing I could do, so if I didn’t like that I should just give up and go back to the farm. But it turned out I liked it a lot. That was six years ago. Then a few months ago the Denver office put the word out that they needed new agents, and since I’d never been out of Illinois, I decided to come. And that’s how I ended up under a tree in Utah with you.”
“Any regrets?” She regretted the question as soon as it left her lips. She didn’t really want to know if he regretted being there with her.
He regarded her silently for a few moments before answering. “Not right now.”
Not right now. What did that mean? Did it mean he’d regretted marrying her before but had gotten over it? Did it mean he anticipated regretting it? Did it mean he wanted to be there with her? Did it have anything to do with her at all?
What did it mean?!
He pushed to his feet and held out his hand to her. “Come on. Now that you can take someone’s gun away from them, let’s start work on you actually being able to fire it.”
She took his hand and stood, pressing her lips together to stop herself from asking him to elaborate on his exasperatingly vague answer to her question about regrets. She knew it had been a mistake to ask him in the first place.
Maybe she should just go back to being the Kitty who spoke so quietly no one ever heard her.
