An Agent for Claudette (The Pinkerton Matchmaker Book 4)

by Christine Sterling

  It was as though someone had stabbed him with a knife.

  Wait.

  Claudette carried a knife.

  A momentary relief washed over him, and he felt the tightening in his chest loosen.

  Claudette had her knife on her, strapped in the sheath on her leg. Thank goodness she wasn’t wearing a dress with those ridiculous hoops. He didn’t know if she had her gun in her boot, but just knowing she had some type of weapon gave him hope.

  She was one of the smartest women he had ever met. She was kind, generous and had a kind of beauty that made poets weep. She made him laugh; and when she laughed it was spellbinding. She was his other half. His wife. His love.

  If… no when, he found her he was going to leave no doubt about how he felt for her. He would shout it from the rafters and tell the world he was in love with his wife.

  The short walk to the Governor’s mansion seemed to take an eternity. Caleb and Bronco didn’t speak at all on the way over. When they arrived, Keith Morrison was leaning against one of the columns on the grand stairs leading to the house.

  The sheriff was smoking a cheroot and blowing smoke towards the sky. His clothes were crumpled, like they hadn’t been ironed. His skin looked pale and when he looked up to blow additional smoke, Bronco noticed scratch marks on his neck.

  “Where did you get those marks?” Bronco asked.

  The Sherriff lifted his hand to his neck and felt the tears. “I had an altercation with my wife. She has a temper something fierce. I should probably get them tended to.”

  Bronco narrowed his eyes, almost squinting as he watched the Sherriff ramble down the steps towards the jail.

  “There is something about him I just do not like.”

  “I agree, but we have to find Arielle and Claudette right now.”

  The Governor wasn’t much help. He wouldn’t have known how someone could kidnap not one, but two Pinkerton agents.

  “Is there any way that they could have gotten out of the house without being seen?” Bronco pressed him.

  “Not that I’m aware of. The cottages are small.”

  Bronco was getting frustrated. He pinched his lips together, so he didn’t say something he would regret. Given that his daughter and now two Pinkertons were missing he expected more … emotion out of the governor.

  “If I have to tear every single cottage apart by hand, so help me I will,” Caleb growled.

  “I don’t think that is necessary, Caleb,” Bronco reassured him. “There is something we are missing.”

  “What’s the end game, Bronco?”

  “End game?” the governor asked.

  “We work backwards,” Bronco explained. “If I had to move a large group of women, whether together or alone, how would I do it?”

  “You’d need to be able to get them away without being seen.”

  “But how would I do that?”

  Caleb thought for a moment. “It would have to be closed in. You couldn’t just parade them out on horseback.”

  “So, you’d have to move them either in the dark or via another means. Still working backwards, they are taken somewhere where they can be transported without being seen.” Bronco got up and started pacing the room. “Without being seen… without being seen.” He felt for the sheath on his leg and pulled his knife out, twirling it between his fingers.

  “Is he safe with that?” the governor asked Caleb.

  “Perfectly safe. He is thinking. Let him think.”

  “A train car. They would have to be in a train car. Where do the trains go from here?”

  “To Denver, San Antonio, Kansas City.”

  “That’s it. Kansas City! They must be moving the women to Kansas City.”

  “But if they used the regular station someone might see them.”

  “Are there any freight trains?”

  “They ship livestock and horses from the freight yard. It is about three-quarters of a mile outside of town.”

  “How would they get them there?” Caleb asked.

  “Mistah Wallace, I couldn’t help but overhear you gentlemen a’talkin’.” An elderly black gentleman entered the room. “They might take them via the tunnels.”

  “Tunnels?” Bronco asked.

  “Yes, suh. After the troops left in 1861 we was open for the Apache to attack us. Many women and children were murdered in those attacks.”

  “Get to the tunnels part.” Bronco’s impatience was growing. He started to fidget with the knife. He wanted to throw it in the wall but knew his employer would frown upon him marking the governor’s house.

  “Well the menfolk decided they didn’t want to have to worry none if those Indians came back again. So, the town wanted to dig tunnels. Brought in a whole bunch of slaves to do it too. All the houses are connected, the saloon, the jail, the store, practically everywhere but the bank.”

  “Where do the tunnels go?” Caleb broke in.

  “They go to all different places. They could go from one building, a house for example and that tunnel might lead to another house. Then there would be a second tunnel somewhere in that house that would go to somewhere else.”

  “What happened to the tunnels?”

  “As far as I know some of them are still there. Slaves were using them to escape once they was all dug, so those I know were filled back in.”

  “Like the underground railroad. Moving bodies from one place to the next without being seen. Or to escape without being caught. There would have to be a place to wait until you moved to the next location.”

  “There was. I don’t know where in the tunnels they were, but I know big rooms were built to hide the townsfolks when the Apaches came in.”

  “Do you know where in the buildings these tunnels would be? I looked all over the cottage and didn’t see anything.”

  “Normally they’d be in a closet or in a piece of furniture that could be opened easily. Sometimes they are in plain sight, but if you don’t know what you are looking for you might miss it.”

  “Caleb, you head to the freight yard and see what you can find out. I’m going to see if I can find these tunnels.”

  “Take Johnsey with you,” the governor said, motioning to the man in the doorway. Caleb nodded and headed towards the kitchen.

  “Wait,” Bronco said. “Johnsey, I need you to take this to the telegraph office on your way out. Just have the operator send it.” He scribbled a note on a piece of paper and handed it to Johnsey. He then turned to the governor. “I saw the sheriff on your porch. He had scratches on his neck. Said he had a fight with his wife.”

  “That’s impossible,” Lew said. “His wife was the second woman that disappeared.”

  “I think I need to go see Sheriff Keith Morrison.”

  Chapter 10

  The light was blinding. After being in darkness, Claudette wasn’t prepared for the light when the door finally opened. She lifted her hand to shield her eyes and saw the silhouettes of two men come down the steps.

  When they finally stepped into the light, she recognized them: the barkeep and the sheriff. The sheriff’s neck was still red and bruised from where she had dug her fingernails into his skin.

  The women huddled together under the stairs. As soon as the door opened, they scattered like mice and reunited under the wooden stairs. Claudette could see Arielle with her arms around the women trying to provide some comfort.

  “You won’t get away with this. My husband will find you.

  “You mean your partner, Mrs. Wauneka? We get the editorials here, too, you know. It didn’t take long to piece together that you must be one of those new-fangled lady detectives. It is a shame that your first case is your last.”

  “Harm one hair on my head, or any of the ladies, for that matter and you will have all of the Pinkertons raining down on you for the rest of your life. You don’t want that, do you?”

  The sheriff paused for a moment before throwing his head back and laughing. “You really think that is going to happen?” He walked over to Cla
udette and grabbed her arms, leaning forward with a lecherous leer. His teeth were tobacco stained and his breath smelled like day old coffee. Claudette tried not to recoil. She needed to appear firm that she wasn’t afraid of him. Honestly, she was terrified all the way down to her boots.

  Her boots!

  “Leave her alone,” Arielle called out. The sheriff immediately released Claudette and turned his attention to the voice from under the stairs. He dragged Arielle out into the light.

  “My, my. What do we have here? I didn’t get a good look at you earlier today.”

  “Leave. Me. Alone,” Arielle said through clenched teeth.

  “I tell you what, Miss Pretty. I’ll leave you alone. And when they are done with you, you’ll wish it was just you and me.”

  “You disgust me.”

  Claudette grabbed Arielle’s arm and pulled her to her. She wrapped her arms around the younger woman. “You disgust both of us.”

  The sheriff laughed again, and the barkeep sneered. He pushed Claudette and Arielle towards the door. “The rest of you, get out here before someone is sorry. My buyers don’t pay premium dollar if the merchandise is bruised.”

  The barkeep opened the door and lit a torch heading down the long dark walkway. He pulled the first women through the door and started herding them down the tunnel, with the sheriff bringing up the rear. Claudette and Arielle were in the back of the group.

  He placed his hand on Claudette’s back to push her through the door when suddenly Claudette turned around and slapped him across the face. “Don’t you dare touch me,” she screamed at him.

  “Then get moving. You too, missy,” he said, pointing to Arielle.

  Claudette linked her arm with Arielle’s and started down the tunnel. She just prayed the sheriff didn’t see the earring she had tossed on the dirt.

  Bronco ran to the sheriff’s office. When he got there the office was empty. Frustrated, he jabbed his hand through his hair. There had to be a clue or something.

  He looked around the room. Wanted posters were tacked up on the wall. There was a desk in the corner. A small table with mugs was along the far wall. The two jail cells were along the back wall. Each contained an unmade bed and a chair. A wooden chair sat outside one of the cells.

  Nothing was speaking to him.

  He thought about what Claudette would say in this moment if she saw him losing his mind.

  “Mrs. Hawthorne said you are the best tracker. That you are the one she would want to be on the case to find her.”

  He sat down on the chair next to the jail cell. The door to the cell was open.

  He continued to look around. What was he missing? The beds in each cell were wooden cots with mattresses on them. A little old fashioned, but they served a purpose. The beds were bolted to the floor, but the chair wasn’t. Why would the beds be bolted down? It wasn’t as if a prisoner would use it as a weapon.

  Bronco went into the cell and kneeled at the side of the bed.

  Well, I’ll be, he thought as he ran his finger across a seam in the wood. It went all the way around the bed. He got up and stood at the foot of the bed. The footboard was curved with two ovals cut into the wood.

  Handles.

  Placing his fingers in the carvings he gave the bed a tug and it moved the floor beneath it. Pulling harder, the bed and the floor lifted revealing an opening beneath the floor boards. It was just as Johnsey had said. A ladder was up against the wall and Bronco quickly stepped down. He took the knife out of its sheath and descended the rest of the stairs.

  There was a bucket of torches at the base of the ladder. They were nothing more than a tree branches wrapped in linen. There was a torch already lit on the wall. Taking it out of the holder he grabbed a second torch from the bucket and started to head down the tunnel.

  The space was cramped, and he had to hunch over a bit. About 300 yards down there was a wooden door. He listened carefully, not hearing any sounds from the other side. He gave the door a push and it swung open revealing a large room with a low ceiling.

  There was no one in the room but someone had been there recently as the dirt had been disturbed. Gently closing the door behind him he made a quick glance of the earthen room. There was a set of stairs leading up to second door and there was a third door along the far wall.

  Bronco was about to go up the stairs when he heard the door at the top creak open. He ran underneath the steps and quickly extinguished his torch before the man could see it.

  “Nothing down here,” the man called up.

  “I told you, you are hearing things,” another voice called down to him. Sam. He would recognize that voice anywhere.

  He must be under the Saloon. He listened for the sound of boots headed back up the stairs and didn’t release his breathe until the door closed again. Pitch black greeted him.

  He wondered if Claudette had been held in this room. His heart broke at the thought of her being scared and alone in this dark place. Speaking of dark…

  Bronco felt along the dirt floor until his hand hit the torch. Lifting it up, he put it under his arm while he felt along the seam of his jacket. He learned a trick from Mr. Pinkerton himself, and that was to carry supplies in the lining of his jacket. He felt the matches underneath the lining and started to pick at the seam.

  In a few moments the matches fell out into his hand. He maneuvered one with his fingers and then struck it along the sole of his boot, the hiss of the sulfur igniting broke the silence. Lighting the linen wraps again, he shook the match to extinguish it.

  Definitely not going up the stairs. I’ll try the next door, he thought. As he headed towards the door his eye caught on a flash of light across the floor. He walked over and knelt down, his finger scratching the dirt. It was an earring.

  The same earring Claudette was wearing that day.

  He pocketed the earring, opened the door and prayed he wasn’t too late.

  “Nos hommes vont venir. Si tu peux lassier tomber des morceaux par terre, pour créer un chergin, fais-le.” Claudette was murmuring in French to Arielle. She nodded, understanding that Claudette wanted her to start dropping items to make a trail for Bronco or Caleb to follow. Arielle pretended to lose her balance and leaned against the wall. As the sheriff took her arm to push her back into the group, Claudette saw her drop her bracelet.

  Good job Arielle, Claudette thought. She reached up to grab her other earring, palming it until they were a bit further down the tunnel.

  Claudette was impressed that Arielle kept it together. Most of the other girls were starting to cry or sniffle. Arielle stood tall as if she was royalty. She kept her chin up and her eyes forward.

  They were approaching an interconnecting tunnel when the Sheriff went running past them to say something to the barkeep. Claudette thought about running back from where they came, but he returned too quickly.

  “Miss me?” he sniggered at her.

  “Not yet,” she replied hauntingly. She stuck her nose in the air and dropped the second earring. “Why don’t you go away again so I can try.” She turned to Arielle, “J'ai un pistolet et un couteau.” I have a pistol and a knife.

  “Où sont-ils?” Where do you have them?

  “Stop it, you two. I don’t want you saying anything more until we get to where we are going. Understand?”

  “Dans ma jupe. Nous avons besoin d'une distraction. Of course, Sheriff. Whatever you say.” In my skirt. We need a distraction.

  Bronco moved a few yards down the tunnel. It was wider than the tunnel that brought him to the dirt room. He could stand up in this one and it was at least three times as wide. Probably for smuggling prohibited goods.

  There were ruts in the ground like a wagon had been pulled along the tunnel. His eyes caught another shiny object. It was a bracelet. He didn’t recognize it as Claudette’s, so it must be Arielle’s. He pocketed the jewelry and continued walking along.

  A few more yards and he came across another tunnel heading left and right. He waved his torch down ea
ch direction and didn’t hear anything. He looked at the area ahead and there was Claudette’s second earring. He needed to go straight.

  She was leaving him a trail. Good girl, he thought.

  A few more yards and he recognized a bit of lace from the cuffs on her dress.

  A bit further, another piece of lace.

  Then a piece of gray fabric.

  Then a hair pin.

  Suddenly the earth above him started shaking and he became covered in dirt. They must be close to the freight yard. He heard the cries of the women in front of them as they too were covered by soil and rocks.