An Agent for Phoebe

by Nerys Leigh

  She sighed and looked down at him. And then the twinkle appeared in her eyes, the one that surfaced whenever her lighthearted side broke through. “Be sure that you do, because if so much as a finger strays an inch across this line,” she drew her hand down the center of the bed, “I’ll snap it off.”

  He gave her a somber nod. “Understood.”

  After a few seconds of hesitation, she shuffled down in the bed and lay her head on the pillow, her back to him. “Goodnight, Mr. Hays.”

  Hair. All he could see was hair. Dark, luscious, shining hair, so close he could smell it. So close he could touch it, if he wanted to.

  Swallowing, he turned over and reached out to extinguish the lamp. He was almost sure she’d been joking about breaking his fingers, but he wasn’t about to test that theory.

  “Goodnight, Mrs. Hays.”

  Chapter Five

  Phoebe drifted blissfully in the warm, dream-like state between waking and sleeping, her semi-conscious brain unwilling to surrender to the day just yet. Just a few more minutes wouldn’t matter.

  And then the bed shifted.

  Someone was in her bed.

  Startled, she yelped, thrusting her hands out before fully aware of what she was doing.

  The body in front of her grunted and her eyes snapped open in time to see it topple off the edge of the bed.

  There was a thud as it hit the floor, followed by an, “Ouch.”

  It was only then that she remembered where she was.

  She scrambled to the edge of the bed to look down.

  Jonah lay on his back, staring up at her. “Is this how you’re going to wake me every morning? Because if it is, I’m going to need to put some pillows down here.”

  “I’m so sorry. I wasn’t properly awake. You startled me. Are you sure you weren’t on my side of the bed?” She pressed her lips together against the laughter bubbling up in her chest.

  “If anything, you were on mine. And are you laughing?”

  She shook her head. “Are you hurt?” The final word ended on a squeak. She clapped one hand over her mouth.

  “Do you care?”

  Not trusting herself to speak, she nodded.

  “I don’t believe you.”

  Unable to hold it in any longer, she flopped onto her back and burst into laughter.

  How long was it since she’d laughed like this? She couldn’t even remember.

  It felt good.

  Jonah pushed from the floor and sat on the edge of the bed, expression stern but eyes sparkling with amusement as he watched her. “How funny you find my misfortune is disturbing, especially since you’re the cause of it.”

  It took her a few seconds to gasp in enough air to speak. “You’re not hurt. If there’s one thing twelve years of marriage taught me, it’s that men tell their wives when they’re hurt, usually at great length.”

  He flexed his right arm and pointed at it. “I hit my elbow. It hurts a bit.”

  “Aww, does my big brave manly Pinkerton agent have a sore elbow?”

  Did she just call him her big brave manly agent?

  His stern expression transformed into a smile as he gazed down at her, and her heart was suddenly thudding in her chest. She was abruptly aware that she was lying on her back in bed with a man smiling down at her. A very handsome man who she happened to be married to.

  This was why she’d been so reluctant to share a bed with him. She didn’t want to start getting these feelings. Not again.

  Rolling away, she sat on the other side of the bed and leaned down to pull her shoes from underneath. “Would you like to get dressed first, or shall I?”

  There was a pause before he responded. “I’ll get dressed quickly, then I’ll give you your privacy.”

  She nodded, not daring to look back at him when the bed shifted as he stood.

  She was in control. It wasn’t like when she was younger.

  She was not going to fall for another man.

  ~ ~ ~

  Jonah headed down to the kitchen for breakfast while Phoebe got ready.

  He was glad of the opportunity to get out of the room and collect his wits. Seeing her laugh and having her joke with him had just about done him in. He needed time to pull himself together.

  Most of the other guests were already gone by the time he got there. He usually woke earlier, but it had taken him a long time to fall asleep. He’d been far too aware of his wife sleeping just a foot away.

  Two men were still sitting at the table when he arrived. They looked up as he walked in and nodded.

  “Morning,” he said.

  A women with graying hair swept into a tight bun glanced back at him where she stood at the range. “Good morning, Mr. Hays. I’m Mrs. Bowen. Take a seat and I’ll have breakfast ready for you in a flash.”

  “Thank you.” He chose a seat opposite the two men and sat.

  “Will Mrs. Hays be joining you?” Mrs. Bowen asked.

  “Yes, ma’am. She’ll be down shortly.”

  He struck up a conversation with the two men, in case they were potential sources of information, but they were there to look for work and had only arrived two days before. They took their leave a few minutes later and Phoebe arrived a few minutes after that.

  She’d pinned her hair up, but he couldn’t get out of his mind how it looked the night before, splayed over her shoulders and down her back, or that morning, enticingly messy from sleep.

  He looked down at his coffee. The very last thing he wanted was to be attracted to his wife.

  She and Mrs. Bowen greeted each other and Phoebe took a seat opposite Jonah.

  As she sat, Mr. Bowen walked in. “Ah, you’re here. I have a message for you, came ’bout an hour ago.” He handed a sealed envelope to Jonah.

  Wondering who would be sending them a message, he tore open the envelope and pulled out a piece of paper. Phoebe rose and moved around the table to the chair beside him, leaning her shoulder against his to read.

  Her hair smelled of roses.

  Giving himself a mental slap, he unfolded the missive.

  MR. BAKER’S DISAPPEARANCE WAS NO ACCIDENT.

  BREWER KNOWS WHAT HAPPENED TO HIM.

  He turned the piece of paper over, but that was all there was.

  “Who delivered this note?” he asked Mr. Bowen.

  “One of the local lads who do odd jobs around the town. They often carry messages.”

  “Do you know his name?”

  Mr. Bowen frowned, looking at the ceiling for a moment. “James, I think. Don’t know his last name though. If you want to speak to him, they gather near the train depot so folks know where to go if they want something done.”

  Jonah folded the note and pushed it into his pocket. Looked like they would be paying a visit to the train depot.

  ~ ~ ~

  Following breakfast, Phoebe and Jonah set out to find the boy who’d delivered the note.

  As they left the boarding house Jonah held out his elbow to her, as he had the previous day. She chose to ignore it. There was no need to get any nearer to him than she had to. She’d already spent the night far too close.

  “I’ll bet you a dollar it was the man watching us at the mine,” she said.

  He lowered his elbow. “I don’t make bets I’ll likely lose.”

  They found the group of boys where Mr. Bowen said they’d be, close to the train depot. Phoebe hadn’t noticed them the day before when she and Jonah arrived, but then she hadn’t been looking for them.

  Several wooden boxes had been set in a circle and six older boys lounged around these, either sitting on the boxes or on the ground or, in one case, lying stretched across two boxes pushed together. They all looked up hopefully as Phoebe and Jonah approached.

  “We’re looking for James,” Jonah said as they walked up to the little group.

  A red-headed boy aged fourteen or so rose to his feet. “Why?”

  “Are you James?”

  “No,” he replied, a little too forcefully. “
What do you want with him?”

  Jonah took a step in his direction. The boy backed away and he came to a halt, raising his hands. “You’re not in any trouble. We just want to ask you about a note you delivered this morning.”

  “I told you, grandpa, I ain’t him.”

  Phoebe slapped her hand over her snort of laughter.

  Jonah stared at the boy. “‘Grandpa’?”

  He shrugged, looking Jonah up and down. “Yeah. You’re what? Sixty?”

  “Sixty?!”

  Phoebe stepped in front of her husband, before he ruined any chance they had of finding out who sent the note. “We just want to know who hired you, if you are James. We’ll pay for the information.”

  “Grandpa,” Jonah muttered behind her.

  At the mention of payment, James grinned. “Well, why didn’t you say so? Is it that letter I delivered to the Bowen place?”

  “That’s the one.”

  “Sixty,” Jonah grumbled.

  “Do you know the name of the person who hired you to deliver it?”

  A shrewd expression sidled onto James’ young face. “I might. How much for the information?”

  “Twenty cents.”

  “Thirty.”

  “Done.” She dug into her bag for the money and handed him three dimes.

  He frowned at the coins in his hand. “Should’ve asked for fifty.”

  “Yes,” she said, “you should have. So who was it?”

  The thirty cents disappeared into James’ pocket. “I don’t know his name, but I’ve seen him around. Pretty sure he works up at the Deep Rift mine. He’s shorter than him,” he nodded at Jonah, “but taller than you. He’s got light brown hair, cut short above his ears, and a mustache and beard, but not a bushy one. I’d say he was about forty.”

  “Like you’d know,” Jonah muttered.

  “Please excuse my husband,” she said. “He’s a little sensitive about his age.”

  James nodded soberly. “Reckon I would be too, if I was sixty.”

  “I’m not sixty!”

  “Thank you for your help.” Smiling at James, she took Jonah’s arm and steered him away.

  “My pleasure,” James called after them. “You need anything else, just come see me.”

  “Told you that man at the mine had something to tell us,” she said as they walked away. “James’ description matches him exactly. Although I would have put him in his mid-twenties.”

  “Can you believe that kid?” Jonah said. “Sixty!”

  “He’s a child. Everyone older than twenty looks the same age to him.” She couldn’t help it. She dissolved into giggles.

  “Says the person who didn’t just get called sixty. Maybe we should go back and ask how old he thinks you are.”

  Chapter Six

  They returned to the livery they’d hired the buggy from the day before for transport back to the mine.

  This time, Jonah suggested they leave the buggy and just take two horses. Well, first he asked Phoebe if she could ride, which had earned him a withering stare and a, “Better than most men.”

  She hadn’t specifically said better than him, but they both knew that was what she’d meant. It made him want to smile.

  “Let’s stop here.”

  Phoebe brought her horse to a halt and swiveled in her saddle to look back at him. “Why?”

  He nudged his horse up to hers. “I should go in alone.” He held up his hand when she opened her mouth to object. “We’re here to talk to that man. Given how skittish he was yesterday, we don’t want to attract any attention. I can blend in. You stick out like a sore thumb.”

  She closed her mouth, her lips pressing together. He could tell she knew he was right but didn’t want to admit it.

  “You stick out too,” she finally said.

  He looked down at himself. “How so?”

  “You’re too clean. You should roll in the dirt, to really make the disguise work.”

  “I’m not rolling in the dirt.”

  A smile tugged at her lips. “I’m just saying you’d blend in better if you did.”

  “I am not rolling in the dirt,” he repeated, more firmly this time. He dismounted and handed her the reins to his horse. “Stay here. If anyone comes, hide behind there.” He indicated a huge boulder ten feet from the road, the reason he’d stopped where he had. “I’ll be back soon.”

  “Don’t look for him in the mine,” she said. “He’s not a miner. He also doesn’t work in the stamp mill.”

  “How do you know?”

  She smiled. “Too clean.”

  Of course.

  He jogged the remaining couple of hundred yards to the mine then slowed to a stroll as he entered the complex, pulling his hat low and looking around without looking as if he was looking around.

  The first place he headed for was the saloon, where they’d seen the man the day before, but a quick scan of the interior told Jonah he wasn’t there. He returned to the central yard and looked at the mine, but he discarded any idea of going in there. Phoebe was right; the man had been too clean to be one of the miners.

  He settled on simply strolling around the place, trying to appear as if he belonged and hoping he happened to see the man. There wasn’t much else he could do.

  Halfway around the yard he came to Brewer’s office. It wouldn’t be a good idea to get close to there, in case Brewer happened to look out his window and recognize him. Tugging his hat even lower, he moved to detour away from the building.

  The door opened and a man stepped out. The man Jonah was searching for.

  Their gazes locked.

  Seeing the recognition in Jonah’s eyes, he whirled away and took off at a fast walk in the opposite direction, disappearing around the end of the building.

  Jonah hurried to catch up, breaking into a run when he rounded the corner and saw how far ahead the man had got.

  The man disappeared around another corner. Seconds later, Jonah reached the same corner and came to a halt. His quarry had vanished.

  “Why are you chasing me?”

  Jonah spun round at the voice to see him standing several yards away. “Why are you running?”

  He didn’t answer.

  Jonah decided to go for the truth. “I know you sent us that note. My wife noticed you yesterday in the saloon. She said you looked like you wanted to tell us something.”

  The man dropped his gaze. “She was wrong.”

  “No one will know the information came from you, you have my word as a Pinkerton agent.”

  He shook his head. “It’s too dangerous. I shouldn’t even have sent you that note.”

  “Did Brewer kill Ralph Baker?”

  He snorted a humorless laugh. “Brewer would never do his own dirty work.”

  “So he ordered others to kill him? Is that what you’re saying? It is Brewer?”

  The man swallowed and glanced around them. “I’m not saying anything. Leave me alone, and don’t try to talk to me again.”

  He strode past, heading back the way they’d come.

  Then he stopped. Without turning back, he said, “Find the ledgers.”

  And then he was gone.

  ~ ~ ~

  “Find the ledgers?” Phoebe said as she handed the reins of Jonah’s horse to him. “What ledgers?”

  He pulled himself into the saddle. “Baker was auditing the mine, so he must have been working with its ledgers. I assume he meant them.”

  “Think he had them at the boarding house? Or did he leave them at the mine?”

  “Let’s hope it’s the boarding house, because if he left them at the mine and it is Brewer who’s behind all this, those ledgers are long gone. He may have made notes of his own, though.” He directed his horse back onto the road and they started back to town.

  “We’d probably know more if I’d been the one questioning him,” she said.

  “And how do you figure that?”

  She glanced at him. “Have you forgotten our visit to the marshal yester
day?”

  “We’ve established there’s no proof he wouldn’t have been just as helpful to me.”

  “I don’t remember establishing any such thing.”

  “You can’t prove it. The truth is…”

  They argued all the way back to town.

  And Jonah loved every minute of it.

  Chapter Seven

  The door opened and Phoebe walked in.

  She placed a blanket and two folded pillowcases onto the end of the bed where Jonah sat.

  He lowered his book. “Were you cold last night?”

  “No.” She shook out the blanket and folded it in half.

  “What are you doing?”

  Taking one of the pillowcases, she pushed one end of the folded blanket inside. “I’m making a bolster to go between us, so you don’t end up on my side of the bed again.”

  “I wasn’t on your side of the bed.”

  “So you claim.”

  “I wasn’t. And if you hadn’t pushed me out of bed, you’d have known that.” He actually wasn’t sure if he’d been on her side of the bed, but she didn’t need to know that.

  She stuffed the other end of the blanket into the second pillowcase, slapped the sides to plump it up, and inspected her handiwork.

  Apparently satisfied, she placed it beside him in the center of the bed and patted the top. “This should work.”

  He picked up his book. “I wasn’t on your side of the bed, but if it makes you feel better.”

  “It does.”

  After trying to read for half a minute, he lowered the book again. “Why are you so afraid of sleeping in the same bed as me? Do you not trust me?”

  She walked to the mirror above the washstand and began removing the pins from her hair. “I trust you.”

  At least she hadn’t hesitated. The last thing he wanted was for her to be afraid of him. “Then why are you so nervous?”

  “Why is it so strange that I would be uncomfortable sleeping in the same bed as a man I barely know?” She slid free the last of the pins and shook her hair out down her back.

  It was a few moments before his brain pulled itself together enough to reply. “I’m not saying it’s strange; I’m just wondering why. I’m not uncomfortable sharing a bed with you.”