An Agent for Clenna

by P. Creeden

  Chapter 9

  Ben

  After finding nothing of import at the saloon the night before, Ben had returned to the hotel he’d rented with Clenna and lay upon the chaise lounge to sleep. They’d gotten the newlywed suite, since the innkeeper was the same one he’d met on his previous trip with Billy, he congratulated the two of them on their marriage and was happy to show them to the room, even though it was so late in the night. Luckily, the room had the lounge, or Ben would have been stuck on the floor. As gray morning light poured into the room that morning, Ben eyed the lump of blankets on the bed as he sat up and scrubbed at his face. His unshaven chin had a rough stubble upon it, and that bit of knowledge gave him a good idea.

  He stood and donned his boots and vest, preparing to leave the room when a small voice stopped him. “Where are you going?”

  After turning around, he found Clenna sitting up in the bed, still fully clothed, but her hair which was usually pinned up, fell around her shoulders in beautiful gold and crimson curls. His heart leapt into his throat, and for a moment, he couldn’t speak. Then he coughed and said, “I’m heading to the barber’s for a haircut and shave. I’d like to get there first before any other customers arrive.”

  She frowned. “What about breakfast?”

  He shrugged. “Get what you like downstairs in the dining room. The keeper will add it to our bill.”

  “No,” she said, shaking her head. “I mean you. Don’t you need to eat something for breakfast?”

  A smile tugged at his lip. She cared about whether he ate or not? His mother hardly had the time to worry about him in that way with his six brothers and sisters to take care of. He nodded. “I’ll grab a mug of coffee on my way out and see if there’s a biscuit or something. But you make sure you eat well. You’re a bit on the thin side as it is and you need to be strong as a Pinkerton Agent.”

  She blinked at him, her eyes wide as she nodded.

  He couldn’t help but wink at her before heading out the door. Something about being with Clenna made his heart a little lighter and his own worries a little less bothersome. She worried enough for the both of them, and it put a calmness upon him, much like it did when he had a skittish horse he’d work with. It forced calmness on him because he knew that things would only get worse if he began looking for trouble, too.

  Downstairs, in the dining area, he found the innkeeper’s wife, who was just setting mugs next to the pot of coffee she’d made. She peered up at him with a smile. “Good to see you again, Mr. Mercer. My husband tells me that you brought your new wife with you this time?”

  “I did,” he answered. Heat rushed to Ben’s cheeks. He still wasn’t accustomed to thinking of Clenna as his wife and all that entailed, and the fact that she affected him so much already made him a bit too sensitive to the woman’s ribbing. He took hold of one of the mugs and poured a bit of black coffee into it. “I’m sure Clenna will be down shortly to visit with you and you all can have a nice chat over breakfast. If you don’t mind giving her a bit of company while I head over to the barber?”

  Her eyes sparkled. “Not at all! Getting to converse with a blushing bride? I’d love nothing more to make me feel giddy and young all over again myself. It’s just one of those things. I’m sure she’s a darling if she’s married to you.”

  “Feisty,” Ben said with a nod. “She might be a darling, but she’s definitely feisty as well. Fair warning.”

  The woman nodded and laughed, covering her mouth with the back of her hand. Ben drained the last bit of coffee from his mug and then nodded toward the woman before heading for the exit. He nodded a greeting to the innkeeper as well before stepping outside. The May morning still had a bit of chill to it and a brisk breeze. He unrolled his sleeves and buttoned them around his wrists. Cheyenne was nearly as busy a town as Denver, and there were already carts and horses moving about though the morning sun hadn’t yet made it’s way over the buildings and long shadows stretched across the street. The boards on the walkway made a pleasant clatter with each step he made on his way to the barber’s shop a few stores down. Once he got there, he headed inside, happy to see the barber alone with one other client.

  At least, he was happy, until he saw the long pink scar on the client’s face from his ear to his chin.

  Ben swallowed hard, steeled himself and removed his hat before greeting the old man with the razor in his hand. “Hello, Clancy, good to see you’re not too busy this morning.”

  Clancy huffed a laugh, but his smile looked strained. “I’ll be with you in just a moment, Mr. Mercer. Have a seat in any of the chairs across the way.”

  Using the foot rest in front of the chair, Ben stepped up and sat in the cushioned metal contraption. If he hadn’t already seen it the last time he came to Cheyenne, he might have been weary about the way the chair swiveled slightly as he sat. This newfangled apparatus was unheard of in Denver yet, and it amazed Ben still that the small barber shop in Cheyenne was ahead of what he considered his city in getting the latest gadgetry. Once he sat in the seat, he picked up a newspaper that sat on the counter in front of him and pulled it up to his face. His heart raced in his chest. Could the man across the way be the very bandit that Clenna’s brother had described? Just the fact he was here at the barbers before anyone else arrived, seemed suspicious.

  Ben stared blankly at the type on the page in front of him. He couldn’t read a word. Instead he inhaled the soothing scent of ink and paper, and let it calm his heart, slow his breathing. Then he pulled the paper slightly to the side to peer over at the man who Clancy was working on. Unfortunately, the very moment he did, he found the man with the scar glaring in his direction. Ben’s heart leapt again, and he knew he had two options, he could either cover his face with the paper once more and try to pretend he wasn’t looking at the gentleman across the way, or he could do as he did. He began folding the paper and setting it to the side once more, meeting the man’s gaze full on as he leaned forward and smiled. “Not much good news in the paper any more, is there?”

  The man with the scar lifted a brow. “I suppose not,” he said in a gruff, gravelly voice.

  Ben nodded a greeting and offered a hand toward the man. “Ben Mercer. It’s nice to see that someone else likes to get a shave and a cut so early in the morning.”

  The man eyed his hand and then let out a slow breath. “George Manning.”

  George? Not Joe? The two names were a bit similar, so it could be that Declan was mistaken that Joe was the culprit’s name. Or perhaps the outlaw had already assumed an alias? Either way, the man took Ben’s hand and shook it, his cool, clammy skin feeling snake-like, and making Ben suppress a shiver. He glanced up at the barber as he released the man’s hand and noticed the thinnest sheen of sweat on Clancy’s brow. Something about this man had Clancy worried. That made it good enough for Ben to at least be worried that this might be the same guy.

  Clancy pulled off the cape he’d had covering the man’s front and then used a soft-haired brush to dust off the man’s shoulders. “All done. That’ll be two-bits.”

  Sitting up, George nodded and gave the man his quarter before standing and nodding toward Ben once more. “See you around.”

  “Hope so,” Ben said as he watched the man head out the door.

  “Don’t hope too hard. You really don’t want to see that man again,” Clancy said as he approached Ben with a cape. “He’s trouble.”

  Ben lifted a brow. “What kind of trouble?”

  Clancy shook his head and got his stuff together. “Can’t say.”

  “Can’t say?” Ben asked, “Or won’t say?”

  The older man huffed a laugh as he brought a bowl of shaving cream and brush near. “One and the same, Mr. Mercer. One and the same.”

  Ben leaned in the chair as Clancy pushed his foot on a contraption that lowered the back. He swallowed once, feeling his Adam’s apple rise and fall in his throat. Clancy began spreading the cream over his cheeks, chin and throat. Though Ben didn’t much like a sharp-
edged razor near his throat, it helped that he already knew and trusted the old man shaving him. It only took a few minutes as the man scraped the edge of the razor against Ben’s skin and pulling off cream and stubble with it. The man’s practiced hand made it feel as though the shave took nearly no time at all. Ben nodded to Clancy as he cleaned up. “I’m going to go ahead and get my hair trimmed today, too, if you’re up for it? It’s just getting a bit long and tends to curl at the ends when I have it a little long.

  Clancy nodded. “Not a problem. Lean back again.”

  Ben did as he was told. Then he looked up into the man’s blue eyes. “And maybe you don’t have to say, but could just nod or shake your head--if you’re up for it?”

  The man’s jaw tensed, but he nodded.

  “Was that’s man’s name really George Manning?”

  The barber shrugged and then shook his head slowly. Maybe he didn’t know for sure but thought not.

  “Do you know if he’s part of the outlaw gang that has been terrorizing the Denver Pacific?”

  Eyes wide, Clancy studied his face a moment before shrugging once more and then nodding his head. So, again. Unsure, but he thought so. Yes. Ben swallowed and thought while looking out the window toward the sunlight that was beginning to chase the shadows on the street into the corners. Finally, he thought of one last question. “Do you know if the boys in the jailhouse are guilty?”

  Somehow, the barber’s eyes went even wider, and his mouth opened for half a second before he clamped it closed again. He’d stopped cutting with his scissors. Then he shrugged and shook his head. He didn’t think he’d get much more out of the barber than that. It seemed that there were at least some in the town who knew or believed that the Murphy-Kelleher boys in the jail were not guilty of being part of the outlaw gang. What people believed wasn’t hard evidence though. If he was going to make sure those boys didn’t hang for a crime they didn’t commit, he needed better proof.

  Chapter 10

  Clenna

  After a lovely breakfast visiting with the innkeeper’s wife, Barb, Clenna stepped out the front door of the hotel and shaded her eyes from the morning sunlight. Clouds of red dust gathered around the heels of the horses as they traveled to and fro on the main thoroughfare. The boardwalks were busy with patrons walking along them and stopping in among the shops. It was a new day, and sleep was exactly what she’d needed to settle her nerves so that she could start thinking clearly. She was supposed to be undercover, but she’d already shown her badge to the sheriff. Hopefully the sheriff understood the discretion needed when the Pinkerton agents worked with law enforcement, but some did not, from what she’d read in dime novels.

  As if life would be like a novel.

  Gathering her courage and her skirts so that the hem wouldn’t drag as she stepped down the boardwalk, she headed toward the sheriff’s office. Being a normal woman wasn’t a hard act for her. She’d been just Clenna for all twenty-one years of her life. In fact if anything felt like a pretend act, it was being a Pinkerton Agent, and when she stepped up to the doorway of the sheriff’s office and found it open, her heart began to pound harder in her chest. She stepped in slowly and found one of the sheriff’s deputies sitting on the edge of a large wooden desk. He stood and removed his hat when he saw her and nodded toward her. “Ma’am.”

  She offered him a wide smile. “Hello there, Deputy. Is the sheriff around? I have a couple of questions for him.”

  “No, ma’am. He’s out dealing with a potential cattle thief out at the Johnson ranch. Is there something I can help you with?” the man’s eyes sparkled, and Clenna got the feeling that he was a few years younger than her. Potentially the same age as her brother James.

  “Do you happen to know when the judge is coming to town to take care of the two ruffians in the cell back there?” She kept her voice light and batted her eyelashes. She didn’t often use honey instead of vinegar, but this was a situation where the fly definitely looked like the type to prefer sweetness.

  “Yes, ma’am. He should be coming in on the stage around two in the afternoon tomorrow.”

  Clenna’s heart dropped toward her stomach. Her gut clenched, threatening to spill all of the breakfast she’d had that morning. They had little more than twenty-four hours to find evidence of her brother’s innocence before the trial began. “Do they have an appointed attorney?”

  Slowly, the deputy shook his head. “I’m not sure, ma’am. There might be one provided by the railroad company, but if so, I haven’t seen him come by to talk to the prisoners.”

  She nodded. “All right. Thank you for your help.”

  The deputy raised a brow at her, but didn’t ask why she wanted to know those things. She was glad of that, as she certainly wasn’t sure what to tell him. She’d thought about lying in some capacity, maybe telling him she worked for the newspaper? But she didn’t feel good about doing that and as she left the building, she bowed her head and sent up a prayer of thanks that things went smoothly and she didn’t have to lie in order to get the information. Once she raised her head, she knew what she needed to do next.

  As she passed by the inn, she wondered if Ben Mercer might have come back from the barber’s yet. Should she wait for him? She hesitated on the boardwalk outside the hotel, peered around a bit, didn’t see him and then continued toward the train station. On the way into town, she’d taken note of the buildings and landmarks she’d felt were important to her for later. And now she was utilizing that knowledge by finding her way on her own to the offices of the Denver Pacific Railway Company. As she approached, she became uncertain. Exactly what kind of persona should she put on. She needed to create a character and play it--that’s what going under cover was supposed to be all about. It wasn’t about lying to people as much as acting a part. If she remembered that, perhaps she could do it. Her heart still squeezed in her chest. Declan and James were running out of time. She didn’t have any time to waste.

  When she reached the door, she took a deep breath and opened the handle, and stepped inside. She froze as soon as she saw Ben standing there.

  “There you are,” he said with a smile and gestured for her to come over. “We were just talking about you.” Then he turned to the gentleman with small, round spectacles and said, “This is my wife, the one I was telling you about. She is the reason we’re in Cheyenne. We were here just to visit her brother James and found that both he and their cousin Declan have been imprisoned. We need to find out what information we can in order to provide them with a legal defense, otherwise, it is the railroad company’s responsibility to pay for their lawyer, since they were still employees of the company at the time of the alleged incident.”

  The man in the spectacles scratched at the edge of his mustache and narrowed his eyes at Clenna as she stepped up next to Ben. “Your wife, you say?”

  Ben nodded and put an arm around Clenna’s shoulders, but his fingertips barely brushed the hem of her sleeve. Then he looked at her expectantly and lifted a brow. Clenna nodded, as understanding dawned on her. She leaned into Ben, her hands resting upon the front of his shirt and chest. A shiver ran through her at the feeling of his taught muscles under the thin fabric. “Yes, I’m Mrs. Clenna Mercer. My husband and I are here to find an attorney for my relatives, and any information that might help prove their innocence.”

  Pulling the spectacles from his eyes, the man then rubbed the red marks to both sides of his nose. After replacing them again, he shook his head. “I’m sorry to tell you both, then, that you won’t find any evidence of that, since they are guilty as charged.”

  Anger flooded Clenna’s veins as her hands fisted and she lunged forward, ready to sock the man in the jaw. Ben’s hand slipped from her shoulder to her waist as he pulled her back toward him. She growled and narrowed her eyes at him.

  But Ben’s face remained passive, though he offered the man a thin-lipped smile instead of his usual smirk. “Then we’ll be on our way. Would it be too much trouble though, if we head out to the
railway yard and talk to the yard foreman? He would know the boys better than just about anyone else. If they need a character witness, he could be called to testify.”

  “Yes, that would be fine. But I’m warning you again, the boys were caught in the act of fraud. If this incident hadn’t happened, the boys would have been released from their duties, and perhaps arrested for that discretion. I doubt you’ll find the foreman willing to say anything to the contrary.”

  If Ben’s hands weren’t still on Clenna’s waist, she would have lunged for the man again. She couldn’t let anyone talk about her brother in such a way as that. Those were fighting words, as far as she as concerned. But with a hand on the small of her back, Ben guided her out of the office, and she let him, even though she shot a glare in the manager’s direction. Once outside, she pulled out of Ben’s hold. “Can you believe that man? If he had his way, my brother would already be on the end of the hangman’s noose. I thought people in this country were innocent until proven guilty.”

  Ben reached for her shoulder to pat it, but pulled his hand back, fisted it and dropped it to his side. Her shoulder tingled where he should have touched it, as though disappointed that it didn’t get the feeling of his warmth on her skin, even through the fabric of her dress. “Just remain calm. We’ll get through this, and that man seemed a bit suspicious to me, even before you arrived. Though office workers like him are often stand-offish, he seemed to be extra stiff and shifty-eyed.”

  She lifted a brow and peered back toward the office they were leaving. “Somehow I’m not surprised.”

  “Let’s go see the foreman. He might have more information for us than that man thinks. After all, according to Archie, he’s the one who called us in,” Ben said as he started down an alley that lead toward the railroad yard.