“It’s go-time.”
“How are you liking Santa Fe, Mr. Wauneka?”
Bronco and Claudette decided to keep their names for the initial case as it would be easier for her to complete the training without a new moniker to memorize.
“Very much, Miss Wallace.” Edith Wallace was the governor’s sister. She was approximately 30 years of age and never married, and Bronco had been entertaining her for the past five minutes. He looked around frantically for Claudette to rescue him. “It is a beautiful state. We have found a few artifacts and I’m hoping that we will find more this week.”
“And what do you do exactly?”
“My wife and I are museum curators in Louisiana. We are looking for artifacts to take back with us when we return home.”
“You don’t have a southern accent, Mr. Wauneka.”
“I’m not from Louisiana. Claudette is. I’m from New York.”
“Ah, that explains it then.”
“Explains what?”
“Ah, Claudette, I was just telling Miss Wallace here that I wasn’t from Louisiana. Apparently, I do not possess the southern charm that you have.”
Miss Wallace giggled. “You are quite charming, Mr. Wauneka. It was your accent.”
“You must forgive my husband, Miss Wallace. He doesn’t realize just how charming he actually is.” She placed her hand possessively on Bronco’s arm. “Cher, I think that they were going to be calling for dinner soon. I requested we sit next to Mr. Blackburn. I know you wanted to talk to him about his knowledge on southern artifacts.”
Bronco nodded, offering his other arm to Miss Wallace and escorting both ladies to the dining area. How Claudette ever managed to get through the door was a mystery to him. All the other ladies were in dresses with bustles in the back and Claudette was happily oblivious in her garden dress.
She leaned up to Bronco’s ear. “I need you to hold my chair out for me. It is the only way I’ll be able to sit down in all this fabric.”
“I thought you weren’t planning on sitting down,” he whispered back to her.
“I didn’t know that they were having dinner,” she hissed. “Just please help me.”
Part of him enjoyed watching her struggle. Her pert nose would turn up and a rosy hue would grace her cheeks signaling her frustration. He held the chair out, but it wasn’t far enough. “A little further.” He complied and saw her lift her skirt, collapsing the hoops in the back so she could be seated. He pushed the seat underneath her. Once seated she arranged the fabric around her so that it didn’t take up more room than necessary.
Bronco took the chair to her right and Mr. Blackburn sat on her left.
“Mr. Blackburn, it is such a pleasure to meet you. I’ve heard so much about you from Mr. Wallace.” Claudette had a soft French lilt to her voice. Bronco felt as though he were melting.
“My pleasure, Miss Wauneka.”
“Mrs. It is Mrs. Wauneka. This is my husband, Bronson. Please, call me Claudette.”
“Bronson. Claudette. Then you must call me Matthias. How long have you been married?”
“Less than a month.”
“It is very apparent. You have that look of truly being in love.”
Bronco took a sip of his drink. What was this man thinking?
“I understand you are a politician, Matthias.”
“One of the best,” Governor Wallace interjected.
“You are most kind, Lew. I just want to do my best for my constituents.”
“It must be exciting to be a politician in these times.” Claudette said.
“It is. But it is also scary. Most folk don’t look too kindly on a negro politician.”
“But the war is over.”
A snort sounded from across the table. There sat the sheriff, Keith Morrison, his eyes rimmed red. Bronco noticed his hand trembling as he tightly held the glass filled with dark liquid. He lifted his hand to Matthias, and then again to Lew. “Yes, the war is over,” he slurred and downed the rest of his drink in one gulp before signaling one of the servers for another.
“Let me ask you, Claudette. Did your family own slaves? I see you wearing that beautiful gown, but it is most decidedly southern.”
“When my family purchased the plantation in Louisiana, the first thing my Daddy did was free all the slaves. He said there is nothing worse than raising crops on the backs of slave labor.”
“Your Daddy was the exception. But most people don’t feel that way.”
“What do you mean?”
“Slavery still exists, Claudette.” Another snort sounded from across the table.
Claudette sent the sheriff a look that would have him shaking in his boots if he wasn’t so imbibed. “But it was overturned. Lincoln made it illegal.”
“But slavery takes many forms. It isn’t just colored people that can be enslaved.”
“I’m not following,” said Bronco.
“It is alive and well here in the west. You have soiled doves that work for pennies. They will never be able to start another life. The Chinese that work at jobs no one else wants to do and they are treated worse than prison labor. The mother that can’t leave an abusive husband because she is afraid he will kill her or the children. Indentured servants that will never be able to purchase their freedom.”
“Those are pretty dark topics.”
Matthias looked at Bronco. “There is nothing light about this. All people have a right to be free.”
Suddenly their dinner was placed in front of them and all conversation ceased.
“Let’s say grace,” Lew offered.
Bronco bowed his head and thought about the words the politician spoke.
“I think we’ve been looking at this all wrong.”
“What do you mean?” Claudette pulled her wrap closer around her and shivered.
“Are you cold?”
“I’ll be fine. We’ll be back to the cottage soon.” They were staying in one of the guest cottages at the far end of the governor’s property. Arielle and Caleb were staying in one of the other cottages. Bronco saw them during dinner. They were serving guests.
He didn’t talk to them as he didn’t want to interfere with their case. He knew it had to do with the politician but that was about it. Caleb was very tight-lipped about a lot of things.
Bronco wrapped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer to him. When Claudette pulled back a bit, he said, “I’m only trying to keep you warm. The nights are still chilly.” Claudette relaxed into his embrace, as far as her skirt would allow.
“So, what were you thinking before? You said we had been looking at this all wrong.”
“Sometimes, when Archie is helping us with a case, he says to look at the end. The end result. There has to be something that whomever took these women is after, and we are going to stay with the thought that they were taken. They didn’t run away. They didn’t just go visiting and not tell anyone.”
“So, what is the end here?”
“Think about it. What type of person would go to all this trouble to take nearly two dozen women over a period of a few months. It isn’t like they wouldn’t be noticed. Unless they are expecting the women not to be found. Short of some untimely demise, what would they do with the women?”
“Mr. Blackburn mentioned that slavery is still alive and well. He specifically mentioned prostitution.” Claudette said.
“Exactly. So tomorrow I’m going to go see what I can find out at the saloon. I need you to send a telegram to Archie letting him know what we found out. I’ll write it down this evening.”
“Did we get the telegraph hooked up?”
Archie sent every agent out with a telegraph machine in their ditty bag. It was easy enough to tap into a line and send a telegram without having to go through official channels. It also enabled them to listen to telegrams that might be sent related to their cases.
Much of what they received when eavesdropping was nonsense, but every once in a while, a gem would appear from the n
oise.
“We’ll be doing that as soon as we get back inside.
The walk to the cottage was short, so as soon as they arrived, Bronco went to pull out the telegraph machine. It only took a few minutes to set it up, but much longer to drape the wire out the window and onto a nearby line.
Bronco specifically selected this cottage when they were offered their choice on the property. Along the back with a high fence dividing the cottages from the town areas, this one happened to be close to the telegraph office.
The fence was made of big blocks and using a ladder he pulled himself up on the top. He was able to walk on top of the wall and reach the telegraph pole with relative ease. Once the line was in place he dropped the wire and went to cover it from the wall to the cottage. No point in anyone noticing it, although he doubted that anyone would. Once he felt the line was secure he returned to the cottage and went looking for Claudette.
She was in the bedroom stepping out of her dress. She still wore her corset and pantaloons, and of course her boots. A knife was strapped to her hip in a sheath that looked very similar to his. His blood grew warm looking at her.
"Didn't I tell you about that?"
"About what?"
"Wearing something not so revealing?"
She looked at him and placed her hands on her hips. "First, I'm not showing anything. Second, we are married. Even if we get an annulment, it wouldn't be like you hadn't seen me in my unmentionables before.”
“And where did you get that knife?” He pointed to the sheath tied to her leg.
“Marianne gave it to me as a wedding gift. It looked like yours and I figure since you can’t carry your sheath with you everywhere, I wanted to be able to get you a knife if you needed one.”
He didn’t know whether to be annoyed, amused or aroused. He knew he was the last one. Definitely. She went to all that trouble for him. It didn’t look comfortable around her leg and he would have no idea how she could have even reached it under all those layers of fabric. But still, he was touched.
He went over and gave her a kiss on the forehead. “Thank you. Now put something on and meet me in the sitting area. I’m going to show you how to use a telegraph.”
Chapter 8
The next day they had a pretty full schedule. Bronco and Claudette were going to go back over to the saloon and see what they could find out from the bartender. After which there was another party at the Governor’s house. This time for his sister’s birthday.
“I don’t understand. How can they still have parties when all these women have gone missing? The governor’s daughter is missing, too. Doesn’t it seem odd to you, Bronco?”
“These parties are extravagant affairs. It isn’t like they can just cancel them, there is quite a cost involved. I honestly think the governor would rather be anywhere than at a party right now.”
“I suppose.” She started rummaging through the wardrobe again.
“Please tell me you are not wearing a hoop skirt.”
Claudette laughed. “You are in luck. Today is just a skirt with a bustle. You don’t have to help me maneuver in it at all.” She pulled out a pretty light blue dress, forgoing the jacket that came with it. It was extremely warm outside for a spring day in New Mexico.
She disappeared behind the screen and quickly threw the dress she was wearing over the top of the screen. It landed on a chair next to the bed. “Did I make it?”
“Yes,” he said, laughing.
She came out from behind the curtain. Her hair fell in ringlets around her face and her eyes were bright as she looked to him for approval. He stood there looking at her with a devilish grin on his face. “I must say Mrs. Wauneka, you look absolutely stunning.”
She beamed under his praise, swaying slightly allowing the fabric to swish around her ankles. She was still wearing the same brown leather boots, but the hem of the dress should cover them. She didn’t want to wear slippers as her boots were the only shoes that could hold the small revolver she kept on her person.
It was a gift from her husband and one of the last mementos she had from him before he died. He said to use it if any soldiers decided to use the house as a headquarters. She was fortunate they didn’t. Other families were not so lucky.
The sound of the telegraph clicking sent them running to the front room. The paper was being fed through the machine and appearing as a long ribbon after being punched with the Morse code.
“What does it say?”
“dash dash pause dot pause dot dot dot pause dot dot dot pause dash pause dash dash break”
“In English.”
The machine stopped clicking and Bronco tore the paper from the machine. “It is a message from Archie. It reads: message received looking into similar cases AG.”
“I wonder if that means there are other missing women around the country.”
“I’m sure there are but finding the connection to this case is what is going to be difficult. I’m positive he sent communications to Chicago, St. Louis and San Francisco.”
Claudette took the paper out of his hand and looked at it. “I guess I’ll need to learn how to read this.”
“Only if you are staying with the agency.”
“Well, of course I am.”
“Then perhaps your next partner can teach you.”
“My next partner?”
“I’ve been thinking about retiring.”
“What?” she shrieked in surprise. Suddenly a trail of French came out of her mouth so quickly that Bronco had a hard time keeping up.
“Woah,” he said putting his hands on her arms. “I wouldn’t have expected you to be that upset.”
“But we just got assigned to each other. I was thinking that this might go longer, you know. I was just getting used to you.”
“You did? You do?”
“Yes. I don’t want to work with someone else.”
“Claudette, I’ve been with the agency for ten years. I need a break.”
Her eyes started filling with tears that threatened to spill over her dark lashes. “Is that because you had to get married? It’s because of me, isn’t it?”
He wrapped his arms around her and patted her hair. “No, it’s not. I just need to try something new. I thought about becoming a bounty hunter. This was in my mind before you ever arrived in Denver.”
He pulled out his handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to her. When she had wiped her nose she looked up at him. Claudette didn’t want to think about working with someone else. And she certainly didn’t want to get an annulment. Two marriages were quite enough. She was hoping that they would grow to love each other in time, but now that time was running out.
She looked at his eyes – dark with passion; gold flecks dotted his irises. He certainly was attracted to her. Why was her mouth so dry? She swallowed and parted her lips. That was all the invitation he needed to slant his mouth across hers.
She held onto his arms, the kiss threatening to buckle her knees. He broke it too quickly, hard breaths hitting her cheeks. He placed his forehead against hers. “I’m sorry, Claudette. We can’t do that again.”
She nodded. “I understand.” But she didn’t. She wanted a real marriage. It seemed he did too. But just not with her. She shouldn’t have been so foolish as to think he could love her after only a few days. She would have to be more guarded with her heart.
The meeting with Sam, the bartender, proved fruitless. Bronco would have thought he’d at least know something given that people tended to have loose tongues when drinking.
“You haven’t seen anyone suspicious?”
“The only new folks in town are you and that colored couple. Sounds suspicious to me. Why are a bunch of folks who are interested in artifacts asking questions about missing women?”
“My wife knew one of them, Charlotte Wallace.” The bartender’s eyes went wide. He did know something. “We were trying to see if we could help find her. No harm meant, friend.”
Sam picked up his cloth and starte
d wiping imaginary spots from the glasses. He would do one, put it down and grab another. “As I told you before, friend, I don’t know nothing.”
“Hey, Sam.” A man said, sitting down next to Bronco. It was Keith Morrison, the sheriff. “Grab me a beer, would you? It is going to be a hot one.” Sam nodded and drew the sheriff a long draught of beer, knocking the foam off with an object that looked like a small ruler. He handed the beer to the sheriff who knocked back a third in one large gulp. He handed the mug back to Sam. “Top me off and get one for my friend, Mr. Wauneka, here.”
An Agent for Claudette (The Pinkerton Matchmaker Book 4) Page 8
