An Agent for Diana (The Pinkerton Matchmaker, Book 10)

by Rebecca Connolly

  Hisses and boos, and some very foul curses, began to fill the crowd.

  Wyatt slid a protective arm around Diana’s waist, and she latched onto his hand, ready to bolt with him the moment this got out of hand, which seemed imminent.

  Reverend Hughes surveyed the crowd in satisfaction. “Tomorrow evening, brothers and sisters, those who are called upon will do as we have done before. We will board the train for New Albany and meet with our fellows and exercise the due course of justice and heavenly vengeance upon those vile sinners who so abuse the land of our friends.”

  Cheers were rampant among the group, violent and chilling, nearly shrill in their potency. Tears began to well in Diana’s eyes, all thoughts of her position and plan forgotten as the horror of the moment sank in.

  “Notices will go out tonight,” the reverend went on, superior and proud in his posture and tone. “All chosen will receive directions, and all that is needed will be provided, headwear aside.”

  Nods went up and down the group.

  Reverend Hughes nodded once. “Then let us sing a hymn and pray for deliverance.”

  “Time to go,” Wyatt whispered in her ear, tugging at her waist.

  She moved with him at once, slipping back around the church, ducking to hide their escape from the rest. They turned away from the main road through town and moved around to the back of the buildings instead.

  “I wasn’t about to stay for that ridiculous sham of a spiritual gathering,” Wyatt snapped as they moved, grabbing her arm to pull her away from a puddle before her.

  Diana swallowed the burn in her throat. “How can they really think that God is on their side in this?”

  Wyatt made a rough growling sound. “Delusion can be a powerful bridle, and those in power can sway anyone they can get blinders on.”

  “Nice analogy, Texas boy,” she quipped without any sort of humor. “What do we do?”

  He put his finger to his lips and held out a hand. She clamped down on her lips hard and nodded once, letting him creep forward while she hung back.

  He could only have been gone a moment, but her skin was still crawling and her heart thundered painfully in her ears.

  She’d never experienced anything like that gathering in her life, and her stomach clenched and unclenched in its own distress at the situation.

  Someone was going to be hurt, if not outright killed, and those people thought it was justice.

  Wyatt was back to her side then, his mouth at her ear. “Move quickly and as quietly as you can. We may only have a few minutes. Ready?”

  Diana nodded, releasing a very short exhale.

  Then they were moving, practically flying around the back of the inn, sticking to the shadows, their footsteps barely audible. The front door of the inn was ajar, and she could see Mrs. Pratt walking down the road with a bucket, but took no time to really consider it as they moved into the building.

  The place was dark and vacant, and Diana moved to the stairs as fast as she could while Wyatt moved the door back to where it had been when Mrs. Pratt left.

  Diana was half way up before he started himself, and she whirled on her stair quickly. “Mind the third step!” she hissed. “It creaks!”

  He paused and looked up at her, eyes wide. “Thanks,” he whispered back.

  They crept back to their room before they heard the front door open, and Wyatt very gingerly closed the door to their room, and only then did Diana release a breath.

  Wyatt turned and leaned against the door, his eyes lowered, brow furrowed.

  Diana ran her hands over her hair, then gripped the back of her neck through the mane of her locks. “Wyatt…. We’ve got to get back to New Albany. They’re going to kill someone.”

  “The Walshes.”

  She blinked and stared at him for a long moment. “What? How do you know that?”

  “Put the pieces together, Diana,” he said quietly, his voice taking on a hard edge. “Hughes wasn’t trying to hide it. A criminal with the heritage and background of drinking, lawlessness, and sloth.”

  “I don’t think Mr. Walsh is like that at all,” Diana protested, stung. “Everybody says…”

  “Open your eyes,” Wyatt snapped. “They’re saying it because he’s Irish. Don’t you get it? Cathleen from the boarding house, and Maggie O’Donnell taking the blame for the fire. Everyone is prejudiced, and because Patrick Walsh was arrested and technically a convict, they can claim he’s a criminal and a danger to the community.”

  Diana stared at him for a long moment, gaping. “Because he’s Irish?” she repeated incredulously. “What in the world does someone being Irish have to do with the quality of their character? If you trace the bloodlines of this country, you’d find a huge amount of Irish influence, I have no doubt.”

  “You’re right,” Wyatt agreed, though there was nothing pleasant about it. “And what does the color of someone’s skin have to do with their character, hmm? Or someone’s religion, for that matter? It doesn’t matter if it makes sense to you or I, that is the way it is for these people. Those narrow minded, vindictive, evil people gathering at that church and singing praises while planning to defy all of the laws of this country and hide behind their beliefs as a way to act however they want. They’re getting on a train tomorrow and going down to New Albany, and they will kill Patrick Walsh, if not all of the Walshes. Women, children, and all.”

  She knew that, had known that all along, but hearing it out loud took her breath away and she moved to the window, looking out at the empty streets of Salem. “How do the neighbors here bear living among this?”

  She heard Wyatt shuffle behind her. “Mostly likely they don’t know, or they pretend they don’t.”

  “Why?” Diana heard herself whisper, turning back towards him. “Why is this happening? Why are people like this?”

  “That’s not a question that can be answered,” he told her as he dropped into a chair and rubbed his hands over his face. “And not one we can ask in our profession.”

  She folded her arms and leaned against the wall, rubbing her arms. “So what’s the plan? How do we get back to New Albany without raising anyone’s suspicions and take care of this?”

  Wyatt looked at her then, the furrow still in his brow. “I’ll send a rider for Jesse Crofter. We’ll need him, and he’s due to come for us anyway, if he’s not already on his way back. With his wagon unloaded, we can move faster, and should get there in time to take care of things.”

  “Why not the train?” Diana asked. “Seems the obvious choice.”

  “We cannot guarantee schedules and timing,” he replied with a shake of his head. “And we already know when they are leaving here. If we leave early tomorrow, we will have plenty of time to protect everyone, and make a stand.”

  Make a what? There was no need to make any kind of stand if they could intervene in time, and ensure the safety of the family. What sort of scenario did he see playing out?

  She shook her head almost frantically. “Wyatt, no.”

  “You vowed to obey me as the senior agent,” he insisted harshly. “Trust me when I say that I know exactly how this is going to play out and what to do about it. I have seen this time and again, Diana, and I know what I’m doing.”

  She doubted that, but she could not say so. He was more experienced than she was, and it was clear he had a plan forming. She couldn’t go against it, or offer any alternatives, without knowing what that was.

  For the first time in her partnership, and in her marriage, she would form a strategy separate from Wyatt’s, and act as she saw fit.

  Someone had to think clearly, after all.

  “Very well,” she murmured, inclining her head very slightly. “What do you need me to do?”

  He exhaled roughly, apparently relieved. “Go to bed. You should get a few hours in before we leave. I’ll wake you when it’s time.”

  The Diana she once was would have questioned and prodded, dug in to find out more, and not bothered to show how eager she was to p
lease. The Diana she was now simply nodded and moved to the bed, laying down without a fight.

  The first part of executing a plan is making sure you are situated well enough to bring it about.

  Her husband had taught her that.

  Now she would test it.

  Dawn was still at least an hour away, but he couldn’t wait a moment more. He hadn’t slept a wink, and hadn’t attempted it. There was too much to think through and too much to accomplish.

  He turned from the window and moved to the bed. Diana had slept restlessly, as evidenced by how sprawled she currently was, her hair matted on both sides and arcing in strange curves on top of her head. The sight made him smile, amused in spite of his rising tension and determination. Diana was a stunning woman at any given time, and he knew it all too well, but seeing her like this made her somehow more human.

  More real.

  He reached out, tempted for a moment to stroke her cheek. Then his focus and wisdom kicked in, and he lowered his hand to her shoulder, shaking gently. “Diana. Diana, wake up.”

  She was slow to do so, but didn’t jerk or stir. She only blinked her wide eyes opened and calmly stared up at him, no hint of fear or surprise in her expression. “Wyatt?”

  The sleepy rasp in her tone could have sent a javelin into the pit of his stomach had he not already enforced any and all walls he possessed. He swallowed the sudden dryness in his throat and shook her shoulder once more. “Time to go.”

  Diana blinked, then nodded and sat up, her hand grasping the open collar of her shirt as she slid her stockinged feet into her boots beside the bed.

  He hadn’t noticed that she had neglected to change out of the clothes from the night before. He should have. He should have noticed every moment she tossed or turned, and yet he couldn’t recall a single time she had. But for the evidence of it, he would never have known.

  He’d spent the last few days, and even weeks, noticing so much about her, yet at the moment he couldn’t recall if she had a dimple when she smiled.

  Why that seemed significant, he refused to admit.

  Diana rose and moved to the washbasin near her, splashing her face quickly, then reaching for a brush and quickly going after the snags in her hair.

  Despite his desperation to be gone and his need to act, he watched the brush run against her hair, stroke for stroke. Every tangle, every smooth run, every stray hair that she pulled free from the rest.

  Then, abruptly, she took the whole mane of her hair and twisted it into a tight curl, shoving four or five pins within and fixing the entire thing in place, all without a looking glass. She fastened the top two buttons on her collar, then turned and sat in the chair, bending to tie the laces of her boots. Only then did she look at him, and her expression was entirely unreadable when she did so.

  “Ready,” she whispered, taking her hairbrush and tossing it into the carpet bag beside her.

  He ought to have told her how impressive he found her, not just in that moment, but in so many others. He ought to have thanked her for trusting him, for not complaining at only having a few hours of sleep. He ought to have told her now what he was planning, to get her thoughts and see if she agreed.

  But he did none of those things.

  He nodded and came over to her, took the carpetbag, and gestured for her to lead the way, picking up his own satchel and tossing it over a shoulder.

  The inn was silent, eerily so, especially given the meeting they had endured the night before, but neither Diana nor he paid much attention to it. The anticipation of what lay before them was far more terrifying than anything they had experienced so far.

  He was feeling the intimidation of it, and he had been through battles and dangers and impossible missions.

  There was no telling how Diana was feeling.

  But she strode out of the boarding house and waited for him to join her on the porch before taking his arm.

  He paused, giving her a curious look.

  “You never know who may be up at this time of day,” she whispered. “Wouldn’t want to raise suspicions.”

  Wyatt nodded and led her off the porch and down the main street, eyes constantly darting here and there on the off chance that they were actually in more danger by leaving than by staying.

  Stranger things had happened in his life, particularly as a Pinkerton man.

  And that was before Diana had been his partner.

  Or his wife.

  They walked down the road in silence, and soon they were outside the town limits. The early morning seemed somehow brighter and more peaceful. Wyatt, for one, felt as though he could breathe far easier than he had since they had arrived in Salem.

  Diana released his arm and walked beside him without speaking, her hand brushing against his every now and then. It was strange, but he missed the pressure of her hand on his arm, and the faint grazing of skin against skin were only making him keenly aware that there was a distance between them.

  It would really be all for the best if that distance remained. The plan he had concocted was risky and dangerous, but would work if all of the pieces came together the way they should. And a major part of those pieces was that Diana would not be anywhere near the danger.

  She was an inexperienced agent, though he had trained her in some regard, and therefore could be a hindrance to him, but his more prominent concern was the risk her inexperience would be to herself. He could not, and would not, let her be placed in a situation where her life would be in jeopardy. Anything uncertain, where he could not exactly predict the outcome, was unacceptable as regarding her participation.

  Even if the plan worked, which it should, his life was certainly at risk. As would be those of the few he asked to join them.

  He was willing to take that chance.

  He was not willing to let Diana.

  He’d have to be extremely careful with what he told her, how much he allowed her to know. She was just impulsive and impertinent enough to disobey his orders and throw everything into complete chaos.

  If she were in any way involved, he would not be able to focus on the task at hand.

  And in this particular scenario, his focus might be all he had.

  They reached the main road, complete with a sign pointing towards New Albany, and he set both of their bags down, then shoved his hands into his pockets.

  “Now what?” Diana asked, a lock of hair at her right temple flying free of her pinned coif.

  He shrugged one shoulder. “Jesse should be here soon, so we just wait.”

  She nodded. “Does he know?”

  “Only that it’s an emergency, and that we need to get back to New Albany immediately.” Wyatt turned a little to look down the road. “Wasn’t sure how safe a message would be with details.”

  “Good idea.” Diana sighed and looked towards the horizon, blinking calmly as she waited for the dawn to break. “Do you know, I’ve never actually watched a sunrise? I always sleep far too late for that.”

  He glanced towards the approaching light, his mouth curving to one side. “I’ve seen a few. Mostly back in Texas. It was really something to watch the sun come up over the fields, not a cloud in sight, and feeling as though the morning sky could extend forever. Makes you feel small and insignificant, yet filled with wonder at the same time.”

  Diana made a soft, noncommittal sound, then shivered audibly.

  Before Wyatt knew what he was doing, he shucked off his coat and draped it around her shoulders. “Something else you should know about sunrises,” he murmured. “They are almost always much colder than one expects them to be.”

  “Duly noted. Thank you.” She slid her arms into the sleeves, then folded her arms tightly around her and rocked up to the balls of her feet a few times. “Will you ask Jesse to help us in New Albany?”

  Wyatt nodded, keeping his eyes fixed on the road. “I think it would be helpful, and I think that he would do it.”

  “Do you? Why?” She snorted softly and rocked one more time. “What does he o
we New Albany? Or threats from Salem for that matter?”

  An almost ragged exhale escaped him, and he very carefully maintained his attention where it was. “He owes them nothing, but he will have a desire to see that justice--real justice, not some imagined, inflated sense of it--is done. That the laws of the land are respected. That the sheriff does not stand alone in his efforts when all others seem against him.”

  He could feel Diana’s gaze upon him, could imagine the intensity that filled those incomparable eyes. “How in the world can you know that?”