An Agent for Clementine
The Pinkerton Matchmaker Series
Ginny Sterling
Contents
Foreword
Preface
Introduction
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Epilogue
Also by Ginny Sterling
Wanted: Hired Gun
Lawfully Gifted
Afterword
About the Author
Clementine Fenton was betrothed for years to a man she’d never met, pushing off the nuptials for as long as possible. When her family goes behind her back and she discovers that her marriage is impending – she makes a break for it! Running away to join the Pinkerton Agency, she’d longed for a life of adventure and independence.
Jericho Buchannan knew this day was coming and dreaded it with every fiber in his being – he was going to be shackled into a loveless marriage with a woman he’d never seen before. He was at the precipice of his new career as an agent, something his father couldn’t understand. Jericho knew his duty was to take over the family business, but yearned for a last hurrah before settling down.
Hidden identities, an infamous robbery, and a sudden marriage make for one sweet & tender adventure!
Foreword
A Note to Our Readers
Even though this book is a work of fiction, the Pinkerton Agents and their exploits are very real.
Allan Pinkerton, a Scottish immigrant, and Edward Rucker, a Chicago attorney, started the North-Western Police Agency in the early 1850s. It later became the Pinkerton Detective Agency.
Established in the U.S. by Allan Pinkerton in 1855, the Pinkerton National Detective Agency was a private security guard and detective agency. Pinkerton agents were hired as both bodyguards and detectives by corporations and individuals. They were active in stopping strikes, illegal operations, guarding train shipments, and searching for Western outlaws such as the James and Younger gangs.
Pinkerton agents were known to be tough yet honest. For the most part, they followed local and state laws. However, as with most situations, a few were known to be ruthless. Local law didn’t always approve of having an agent in town since they could investigate more fully than the sheriff. Going undercover gave the agents greater leeway for investigations but could also lead to corruption and violence.
As the West became more settled, crime increased, and local authorities were at times overwhelmed. It was not uncommon for Pinkerton agents to be hired to track down the worst of these criminals. Not encumbered by state or local boundaries, the agents followed and pursued their quarry where the clues led them.
The Pinkerton Agency was also one of the first companies to hire women. Kate Warne led the way for the women agents that followed her.
As the case load grew, new offices were established around the country, with the main office in Chicago, Illinois.
We created this series with these heroic men and women in mind. These are works of our imagination and no way reflect the true cases or activities that the Pinkerton Agency may have engaged in.
These are our stories of the men and women that braved danger and love to bring their own brand of justice.
Preface
The Pinkerton Code
Allan Pinkerton's agents were required to comply with a specific code of conduct while working for the Pinkerton Detective Agency.
According to the agency's records, agents were to have no addiction to "drinking, smoking, card playing, low dives or slang".
Additionally, a Pinkerton agent …
Could not accept bribes
May never compromise with criminals
Should willingly partner with local law enforcement
Must refuse divorce cases or those initiating scandal
Would be expected to turn down reward money
Cannot raise fees without client’s prior knowledge
Should keep clients appraised on an on-going basis
Introduction
The Denver Tribune Editorials
Sat. April 22, 1871
Female Agents to join National Detective Agency.
Help Wanted: female agents to join the National Pinkerton Detective Agency
Seven years ago, the National Pinkerton Detective Agency moved into the new office location at 427 Chain Bridge Road, Denver, Colorado Territory. Since then stories have swirled of brave men solving crimes and fighting for justice.
But a new time has evolved, and the agency is now seeking able-bodied women to join the ranks of private investigations.
We need daring women who seek adventure and are of sound mind and body. You will help the criminal elements answer for their crimes and secure safety for their victims.
You will train with an existing agent, and after your first case, you will earn the rank of private detective. Paid training, transportation, uniforms, and accommodations will be provided. You will become a part of a noble profession and pave the way into the future.
This editorial has been placed in newspapers throughout the nation, so the quickest responses are appreciated.
Please send inquiries and a list of skills to Mr. A. Gordon at the above noted address. Interviews will occur on the premises the week of May 16, 1871.
Ed.
1
1873
“You must prepare yourself for this, daughter.”
Clementine turned her back on her mother and rolled her eyes silently. She’d been trying desperately to avoid the conversation and feigned illness anytime it came up in the last month or two. It was shocking that in this modern era that her parents would hold her to an old-fashioned betrothal contract drawn up when she was just a child. That was something people did years ago – something her own parents encountered. Betrothals were so… so… ancient, she thought.
Her father, and some other man she’d never met, had agreed upon a contract to join their two families. The Buchannans and the Fentons were two prestigious families from the Old World – when they once actually lived there!
This was America now.
Her family had not lived in Europe for nearly two centuries, yet their ancient customs still haunted her. Somewhere along her family tree the Fentons were once glassblowers and artisans – but that tree had forked, split, woven itself along the generations, and that skill had been lost on their end. So why in Heaven’s name would she be expected to continue on with the same traditions that were long since gone?
“The Fentons have always known their place – and your place is at the side of Jericho Buchannan. He will be an excellent match for you, daughter.”
“Mother, this is a sham and you know it.”
“Silence, young lady. Your father arranged this knowing that you would be set for life marrying into their family. You would do well to remember it.”
“I didn’t ask to be engaged to someone. I want to travel and see the world.”
“Then you should have been a boy,” her mother snapped, causing Clementine to flinch. This was not the first time that something like that had slipped past her mother’s lips. She knew that her father had wanted a son to carry on the name. Her mother had nearly died at Clementine’s birth and was unable to have any more children. This had been a point of contention between her parents for years, trying to hide their arguments behind closed doors. Her mother smoothed her shaking hands along the front of her skirts and waist i
n an effort to calm her temper. A slight smile was plastered on her face as she looked at Clementine.
“Women do not have the same freedoms as men – even if the world is changing,” her mother began and took a deep breath. “I was betrothed to your father and we’ve had a wonderful match. Buchannans and Fentons have always worked together or married. In fact, my own cousin took a Buchannan for her husband. Just because you are scared – that doesn’t mean that it will be a terrible union. He will be good to you and comes from a long line of decent, hardworking, honest men. You will come to care for him over time.”
“Mother,” she began and was immediately silenced with an upraised hand. There would be no argument to be had today. The betrothal was something her father would not even discuss with her. He would simply look at her mother to handle it – and apparently ‘handling it’ meant keeping Clementine quiet about it.
“We will not have this discussion after every meal, child. You’ll come to understand your place in this world soon enough. I’ve already taken the liberty of drawing up the announcements for the wedding. At this point, with as much resistance as you’ve given – I’ve contacted Jasper Buchannan to move up the date. Your father and I wanted to wait until you’d reached twenty-one… in order to accommodate your need for ‘freedom’, as you say,” her mother explained firmly, without hesitation.
“But seeing the turmoil that this extended waiting period is putting you through is tearing us apart as a family. The sooner you are married and settled in your own home – the better we will all be. Once you’ve got a babe of your own, you will understand how having a prosperous betrothal can be advantageous.”
“What? You moved up the date?” Clementine asked in shock and dismay. She felt like her world was crumbling around her. She wasn’t ready to be married to some stuffy aristocrat her father picked out. She knew that the two families were well respected and the names were easily recognized in polite society- but she barely remembered meeting the illustrious Mrs. Buchannan. Clementine had been a young girl – barely five- when a blonde-haired woman had knelt down in front of her, pinching her cheeks and checking her teeth. That was her only memory of meeting anyone at all from the Buchannan line.
“Of course,” her mother said calmly, clicking her tongue against the roof of her mouth. “The dressmakers will be here tomorrow for your final measurements. Even now, Jasper and Julia Buchannan are making their way here. They will be meeting up with their son just before the event.”
“When is this wondrous event,” Clementine said bitterly. Disappointment and outrage were coursing through her veins at the idea of marrying a stranger. She’d been kept completely in the dark until she was fifteen years old and suddenly her whole life had been planned for her. The last five years, knowing this dreaded event was in the making… simply made her miserable. It was ‘Jericho this’ or ‘The Buchannans’ every time her mother spoke. Five years of trying to find a way out of this and failing miserably.
“Why daughter,” her mother said sweetly. “You’ll be so relieved to know that the marriage is to take place in a month.”
Shocked, Clementine stared at the walls of her father’s library in utter dismay. She was trapped and there was no other way to put it. Her dress collar suddenly felt like it had a stranglehold on her and she longed to run from everything she knew. She wanted her freedom – a choice. Having everything arranged or constructed for her was horrifying. Her clothing was laid out for her each morning, picked by her mother. Her daily routine was set by her mother – everything was what her mother had planned for her. Her meals, her social life, and now her marriage.
She craved independence.
Wide open air and wild, open places. Being a Chicago socialite didn’t sit well anymore. Sure, the parties were fun and it was wonderful to have modern conveniences surrounding her but there was something so liberating in being able to do what you wanted.
Her parents would be horrified if they saw or realized that the tree on the back of the gardens was where she practiced throwing knives. She wanted to relive the tales from the Old West. Adventure, action, and no betrothals! Her father had always wanted a son, but when it came down to teaching her the tomboyish things she yearned to learn – he very nearly had an apoplexy.
“No daughter of mine will shoot a pistol!” he’d roared in outrage – insisting that she learn to knit baby booties instead. If he wouldn’t teach her to shoot, she’d find her own path – taking a set of knives from his office. She’d left the box in place so no one would know and slipped the small knives into a roll that was knotted. She’d almost gotten caught with them but claimed they were paint brushes that she planned to dabble with.
The knives fit her hands perfectly. She hid the nicks on her skin with gloves or claimed it was her lack of skills at cross-stitching causing the tiny scabs. She would escape to the gardens every moment she got and head back to her tree. The first time she flung a knife, it missed the tree and ended up in a shallow creek at the back of the property. Retrieving it had been quite the ordeal- one she wasn’t keen on repeating. After a few misses, Clementine got the feel for the knives and began to hit the tree trunk.
That had been a year ago.
Clementine could now hit a tiny mark on the tree if she concentrated. It wasn’t that she was perfect- rather, she had found her imperfections and used them to her advantage. She had a bump on her nose that she used to stare down for a line of sight. It was a tiny ridge, but if she aimed just to the left of it – the knife hit dead center and usually stuck firm. When she discovered this, part of her wanted to celebrate and shout it to the world. Instead, she clapped her hands giddily and walked a bit taller, feeling like she’d accomplished something special.
Now, her small bit of freedom was going to be taken from her with a new husband – this meant moving away. In the gardens, she knew where she could hide… in a new home, she could only hope for the same. She would not have the amount of privacy she was given now, and what if he found her diminutive knives? Men like her father were controlling.
Sighing heavily, she plopped down in her father’s leather chair and stared out the window in despair. Her parents would only leave her alone for so long before checking on her. They knew she was upset and yet – she was still engaged to this unknown stranger.
Looking down at the desk, an article caught her eye and made her gasp in disbelief. It was an ad for female Pinkerton agents in Denver! She’d heard of the outlandish office out west that hired women. The Chicago office had released a statement that they would not be doing so. She could earn a living, be trained in the field, and become independent – instead of becoming another man’s dependent! The idea of continuing on like she was now simply didn’t set well at all with her. She wanted to explore and tackle new adventures…and becoming a Pinkerton agent seemed just the thing!
As the library door opened, Clementine jumped to her feet guiltily. She wanted to snatch the newspaper article up and read it again to make sure she wasn’t dreaming. It sounded too good to be true – now it was a matter of how to get to Denver… without her parents or fiancé.
2
“Have you lost your ever-loving minds?”
Jericho yelped in disbelief at the announcement his father had just made at the dinner table. They had been sitting there quietly, chatting easily between them while awaiting Cook’s fantastic apple pie. He’d smelled the aroma of cinnamon and nutmeg all afternoon knowing there was a treat in store tonight! His father had squelched that little bit of happiness in a split-second.
“I am leaving in two days to accept a new position out west. We had this discussion before, father – don’t tell me that you’ve suddenly forgotten?” The single bite of apple pie sat like a lump in the back of his throat, unwilling to move. The bile in his stomach might have other ideas if they didn’t get things straight!
“Of course, I haven’t. I simply thought you might have come to your senses by now,” his father harrumphed, making his great belly jiggl
e under his vest. It always amazed Jericho at how much he looked like his mother instead of his father. His father was on the short, hefty side with an extremely ruddy complexion and his mother the exact opposite. The two of them made quite a comedic couple, as she stood nearly five inches taller than him.
Lean, strong, and tall – Jericho knew he was good looking at an early age. The girls in town tended to bat their eyes at him and the boys he played baseball with in the field on the outskirts of town all wanted him on their team. He could catch a fly-ball like no other due to his height. He was spoiled, indulged, and hard-headed… part of the reason Jericho was so shocked that his father was sticking to his guns on this whole fiasco.
Jericho had always known that his parents had betrothed him to some simpleton on the outskirts of Chicago. The letters from her parents describing her had not been anything remarkable. Her name was Clementine – a common enough name and nothing outlandish. Apparently his intended was quite ugly as well. He’d asked for a daguerreotype or a portrait so he could see who he was going to be marrying… and her parents had declined. He’d asked for a description and was sent a letter with no more information than before.
Clementine is a fair young lady with long hair and dark eyes. She will be malleable to her husband and knows how to maintain a proper home. She is an only child and will inherit a small fortune.
An Agent for Clementine Page 1
