by Lori Wick
Not surprisingly, “Oh” was all she heard. Conversation picked up as Mrs. Meyer replenished the coffee cups, but nothing more was directed at Pup. This was exactly what she’d been hoping for, and she knew a sense of satisfaction that her plan was working so well. Tomorrow she would take some time for herself. She would head to the Wallaces’ home and pamper herself with a long, hot bath.
“I don’t know how I’m supposed to come in the evening, Nick,” Pup said from behind the screen. “I have to eat with these people, and if I disappear two nights a week, I’m going to draw questions.”
“All right,” he conceded, “come when you can. Now what did you see at the bank?”
“Can’t this wait until she’s out of the tub, Nick?” Camille asked pointedly, staring at her husband.
“No.” He stared right back and sat down on the edge of Pup’s bed. “I need to know if other men are needed.”
“She’s not a man—” Camille began, but Pup jumped in to avoid an argument.
“It’s a little early to tell, Nick, but all the books I checked yesterday were spotless.”
“It’s going to take some time for him to trust you.”
“Do you want me to suggest anything or hint around?”
“No, last time one of my men did that, he got the case dismissed. I might have one of the men do a spot check. That would take all suspicion off you. I want you to hold off for right now. If he has another set of books, one that isn’t readily available to the public, he’ll eventually bring them out and pay you to stay quiet about them.”
“And if he doesn’t?”
Nick didn’t reply. All his other undercover agents were men. He would leave any one of them on the job for months, sometimes close to a year, in order to gather the needed information. But Pup was different. He would never do anything to put her into immediate danger.
“Are you out there?” she asked when he remained so quiet.
“Yes, but I don’t have an answer for you.”
Pup wasn’t certain how to reply, so she remained quiet. Camille had no such qualms.
“This girl is going to be water-logged if you don’t get out of here, Nick.”
“I’m going,” he replied as he rose tiredly. “I still want to talk to you, Pup. Come down to the study when you’re ready.”
“All right.”
Nick left the bedroom, and Camille poured another bucket of steaming water into Pup’s tub. Pup sank a little deeper and thanked her hostess with a sigh. Nick wanted her in a hurry, she could tell by his voice, but she wouldn’t know this luxury for at least another week. Pup picked up the soap. It wasn’t as good as bathing in the lake at home, but right now Pup refused to be rushed.
12
McKay left the treasury office building on Monday morning and headed for a spot check at the First National Bank of Denver, but his mind was not on his work; it was on Brita Stuart. Her family had been invited to join his for a special outing on Saturday, and if eyes could be trusted, especially Brita’s eyes, she was interested in him. Seeing interest in a woman’s eyes was not unfamiliar to McKay, but not often did he feel interest in return.
In his mind the problem with getting involved with a woman was his job. He was on the road so much. Although based in Denver, his job took him elsewhere for a good part of every year. And there was always the possibility of danger; his shoulder was a good reminder of that. Could he really ask a woman to sit at home and wait for him, given the chance that he might not come home at all? The bank was looming before him, and he still had no answers. For now, he acknowledged to himself, maybe it was best he didn’t. After all, he had a job to do that could possibly include days of pouring over account books—none of which had anything to do with the sweet and lovely Miss Stuart.
“Spot check!” Duncan Phipps growled in McKay’s direction, but the treasury man only shrugged.
“Just doing my job, Mr. Phipps.”
“I thought we put all this to rest two years ago.”
“If you’re referring to another check, Mr. Phipps, I wasn’t involved in that. I assure you, this is strictly routine.”
Duncan scowled at him, but McKay took little notice. Coming toward them was Callie Jennings. McKay’s mind registered disbelief, but it was all too true. He’d gone up the mountain to find her, and here she was in Denver!
“M-Mr. Ph-Phipps, “ McKay watched as she stopped beside the older man and stuttered painfully. “I c-can’t f-find the b-books that g-go t-to those s-special r-reports. I’ve l-looked, b-but they’re n-not th-there. D-do you w-want-” Pup went on, but McKay had shut down.
Nick had said she most often went out as a man, but nothing could have prepared him for what he saw. There were no curves anywhere. The rather fancy vest she wore in blue and red fell straight down the front of her chest. There was no definition of hips and McKay struggled to remember if she’d been this straight up and down in a dress. As she turned slightly he noticed a slight roundness to her seat, but even that wasn’t feminine with the rest of her covered in men’s clothing.
McKay suddenly caught the direction of his thoughts and dug his nails into the palm of his hand in order to snap his mind back.
Think of her as a man, McKay. She’s a man right now. Wait for an introduction, and pull this off. There’s no room for emotion here. You’re a professional. Now act like one!
“Have you checked with Mr. Conway?”
“Y-yes, s-sir, b-but he w-was b-busy.”
“All right. I’ll look into it. Actually I’m glad you came by my office, Bryan,” Duncan now said with an odd gleam in his eyes. “This is McKay Harrington from the treasury department. He’ll be doing a spot check on our ledgers. Make yourself available to him for any questions he might have. I’ll get back to you on the missing books. By the way, McKay,” he now turned, his smile triumphant, “this is Bryan Daniels. You can ask him anything. He’s new, but he knows all about our records.”
Duncan turned back to Pup.
“Do lots of talking to McKay, here, Bryan. Tell him everything he’ll need to know.”
Duncan turned away, feeling he had scored a victory. He hated those arrogant auditors the treasury sent over. It was getting more and more difficult to gain the upper hand, but this time he’d done it. He thought as he walked away, Spend a few hours with that stuttering Daniels fellow, McKay, and you’ll be begging your boss to close this job fast.
“It’s n-nice t-to m-meet you, M-Mr. McK-Kay.” Pup turned to McKay and held out her hand the moment Duncan moved around her to leave.
“It’s Harrington,” McKay corrected her automatically, his own professional cloak falling over him. “McKay Harrington.”
“H-Harrington,” she repeated, as though needing to memorize it. “I’m s-sorry, M-Mr. H-Harrington.” She stared through the lenses, her gaze a bit vague. “Th-the b-books are th-this way, if you’ll f-follow m-me.”
McKay did as he was asked, his mind still telling him to treat her like a man. To him she was every inch a female, but he realized that none of these people—neither the bank employees nor the customers—had seen her as he had. She was not a woman just dripping with feminine curves and charm, but she was a woman, and he’d watched her work and live in rather familiar surroundings for three weeks. The sudden image of her coming from the water, a tall, black silhouette with slender limbs, flashed into his mind. He began to pray.
Help me, heavenly Father. I can’t think of her that way, Lord, not now and not ever. We’ve got a job to do here. I have to treat her as I would Carlyle or Nick. No special treatment or eye contact.
“W-where d-did you w-want t-to s-start?” he suddenly heard Pup ask him.
“January 1875, I think,” he answered quickly, naming a date over three years back. “I’ll start there and let you know if I need anything else.”
Pup found the account books for him, not hesitating to speak and explain things as she went. McKay had to force his eyes away from her mouth. He couldn’t believe she could p
ull this off so well, and it was fascinating to watch her lips push the words out.
“Thank you,” he spoke briefly, as he sat across the large table from her. They were in a partially secluded area, but Pup never gave him a moment of recognition. She immediately went back to the ledger she was working over, her eyes intent, her fingers moving fast as she checked column after column of figures. McKay did in fact have questions, and she answered them to the best of her ability, but several times she directed him to Duncan or Mr. Conway.
As lunchtime neared she told him she was going to the Brown Palace for lunch and asked if he would like to join her. McKay accepted without hesitation, but if he thought she invited him so they could be themselves, he was wrong. She was Bryan Daniels through the entire carriage ride over and all through the meal.
“Th-the c-coffee is g-good here” was the first thing she said. “M-Mr. Ph-Phipps and M-Mr. C-Conway eat here s-sometimes t-too.”
McKay knew in an instant that he was going to have to go along with her.
“Do you think you’re going to enjoy working at First National?” he asked.
“Y-yes. I l-like a-accounting. It’s m-my b-best w-work.”
McKay smiled a genuine smile, and Bryan Daniels smiled back at him. She was still in character, but McKay was not. She might be good with numbers, but math wasn’t her best work. Never would he believe that after watching her all morning. As their food arrived he thought, as he often had in the cabin, that he’d never met anyone like her.
He was also aware of the fact that her manners were perfect. Not one drop of food went onto the front of her vest. Her water glass remained upright, and she didn’t so much as brush against his feet with her own, although they nearly touched under the table. Nick had said with a great deal of pride that she was the best he had. McKay could see that it was all too true.
From inside his bedroom, McKay heard a man stutter in the hall that morning. Mrs. Meyer had come down after the new boarder arrived and said the man had a terrible stutter, but McKay had not caught on. Callie Jennings was standing behind a chair in Mrs. Meyer’s dining room as if she’d been doing it all her life. McKay thought if he had one more surprise today he would go mad. Did she know that he lived here? When could she have moved in? He’d only been gone over the weekend. Was that enough time?
Of course it was, you fool, McKay castigated himself. Now pay attention or all the work you did today will be destroyed.
“It’s nice to see you back, Mr. Harrington,” Mrs. Meyer said sincerely. “How is your family?”
“Doing well, thank you, Mrs. Meyer.”
“You haven’t met our new boarder, Mr. Harrington—” the landlady began, but McKay cut in.
“Actually we have. My job took me to do a spot check at the First National today. I met Mr. Daniels when I was there.”
McKay and Pup exchanged pleasant nods.
“How nice. Oh, there you are, Mr. Ramsey,” she spoke as the last diner joined them. “Shall we begin?”
They sat down, and the dishes were passed. McKay ate and enjoyed the food, but his mind was clearly elsewhere. He didn’t know when anyone so distracted him. He was aware of every move Pup made. Little conversation was directed toward her, but that was something she’d clearly orchestrated herself. The awful stutter and the shy way she ducked her head did not invite conversation.
The meal passed in something of a haze for McKay. He did join one conversation about a local minister, but for the most part he was content to listen and watch. Normally he went for a walk after dinner or headed up to his room to read or study his Bible. Tonight, however, as he watched Pup move toward the parlor with Mrs. Meyer and the other men, he joined them. Coffee was served and two of the men, Ramsey and Becker, went right to the chessboard that was set up on a table by the window.
Mrs. Meyer and Mr. Carrie began to discuss a book they had both read and enjoyed. McKay had heard about the book and asked a few questions, but he noticed Pup went for the newspaper and began to read. Conversation flowed around her, but she kept her eyes on the print. He saw a few compassionate glances from Mrs. Meyer, but she clearly understood that her newest boarder did not wish to talk.
It was just before nine o’clock when the chess game broke up. Paul Ramsey announced that he was off to bed, and everyone bid him goodnight. Not three minutes passed before Pup laid her paper aside and stood as well.
“Th-thank you f-for a p-pleasant evening, M-Mrs. M-Meyer.”
“You’re welcome, Mr. Daniels. Are you turning in?”
“Yes, m-ma’am. G-goodn-night, everyone.”
“Goodnight,” the room chorused, and McKay made himself sit still for a few more minutes. The temptation to bolt after his coworker was torture. Struggling for a picture of nonchalance, McKay eventually rose and said his own goodnights. He made himself take the stairs slowly, but there was no need. Pup was in the hall having a few words with Paul Ramsey. He forced himself to walk by them without a word and move to his own door. Once there he used the key, entered, and lit a lantern, but he left the door wide open.
He heard Pup tell Mr. Ramsey goodnight, but he was standing far enough back in the room so that Paul could not see him. He watched as Pup came to her door and reached to remove the key from her pocket. She never even looked in his direction. With a swift move he poked his head out and found the hall empty, save for Callie. Before Pup could even get her key to the lock, she was pulled backward into his room, the door was shut, and she found herself up against the wall. McKay Harrington leaned slightly over her, his hand still on her arm.
It occurred to Pup that the large, firm hand holding her no longer belonged to a weak, ill man, but she still looked unflinchingly into his eyes. A moment later the hand dropped, and she watched as he reached up and removed her glasses. She made no protest when he lobbed them carefully onto the bed and then turned back to her, his hand now on the wall near her head.
“Do you have any idea how sorry I was for you?” he asked softly when he was able to really see her dark eyes.
Pup shook her head no, and McKay continued in a hushed tone.
“I thought you were the most pitiful creature I’d ever seen—cut off from society, slow-witted, pathetic, and dreary. My heart ached with sadness for you.”
Pup compressed her lips, but the sparkle in her eyes gave her away.
“Don’t you dare laugh at this,” he warned softly. “I’m angry with you.”
He sounded so unangry that a full smile spread across Pup’s mouth. Her eyes were still on him, and she watched as he took in her hair.
“Who cut your hair?”
“Camille Wallace always does.”
He continued to study her, his eyes moving all over her features and then back to her eyes.
“Did you know I was going to be at the bank today?”
“No.”
“And here, did you know I lived here?”
“Not until I walked through the front door last Thursday night.”
McKay shook his head in amazement. “You were incredible today.”
Pup shrugged, but she was pleased. “It’s all part of the job.”
“Nick says you’re the best he’s got.”
Again she shrugged, but didn’t look shy or deny the compliment.
“Were you really involved in the war?” He had to ask.
Nick had done more talking than Pup thought he ever would, but she still answered.
“Yes, I was very young and saw awful things. I don’t think I would ever do it again.”
“And that’s how you met Nick?”
“I was his aide. It was fascinating, but like I said, not something I want to repeat.”
“Why as a man, Callie?”
“You can’t call me that, McKay. You can’t think of me as a woman.”
“But why as a man?” he persisted.
“You can look at me and ask me that?” she challenged softly.
McKay nodded his head. “Yes, I can. I don’t think you l
ook like a man.”
“But everyone else does, and that’s my job,” she explained simply. “I’ll tell you, McKay, people see what they want to see. Camille has been saying that for years. I don’t look like a man. But people see the clothing and they don’t really look any further. I don’t have any facial hair, but many men don’t have heavy beards.” In a bold move she brushed a finger across the day-long stubble on his jaw. “You could never pass for a woman.”
“Thank you,” he said dryly, “I think.”
Pup smiled cheekily at him, but his eyes were serious.
“I won’t continue to bring this up, Callie, but I have to say it one more time. I’m sorry about your brother.”
“Thank you, McKay. I know it wasn’t malicious. You were doing your job.”
He nodded and continued to study her.
“Speaking of jobs,” he now asked, “how long will this one be?”
“I don’t know. Nick wants Duncan. He wants him badly. I’ll probably be here for a while. How about your end of it?”
“Just a few weeks. I went all the way back up the mountain looking for you,” he said suddenly.
“You did? Why?”
“I had some things to say and some questions to ask. I still do.”
Pup smiled, feeling completely in control of the situation.
“They’ll have to wait,” she said simply. “I’m tired and headed to bed.”
“But you do understand that we’re not done, don’t you, Mr. Daniels?”
Pup ducked under his arm and went for her spectacles on the bed. When they were in place she glanced around the room.
“Did you hear what I said to you?” McKay tried again, but he was ignored. He watched as she grabbed the bar of soap from his washstand. Without warning she opened the door.
“Th-thank you f-for the s-soap, M-Mr. H-Harrington,” she stammered, her voice back to normal level.
“That’s my last bar,” McKay hissed at her.
Pup took a swift peek into the hall. It was empty. She leaned toward him long enough to hiss back, “You should have thought of that before you dragged me in here.”
