An Agent for Rilla (The Pinkerton Matchmaker Book 32)

by Sophie Dawson

  CONTENTS

  An Agent for Rilla

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  A Note From Sophie

  AN AGENT FOR RILLA

  An Agent for Rilla

  Pinkerton Matchmaker Book 32

  Sophie Dawson

  A Ryder Legacy Book

  Copyright © 2019 Sophie Dawson

  Kindle Edition

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN: 978-1-63376-046-2

  No part of this publication maybe reproduced or distributed in print or electronic form without prior permission of the author. Please respect the hard work of the author and do not participate in or encourage the piracy of copyrighted materials.

  This is a work of fiction. Most of the places within the story are fictitious but some are real. You will most likely recognize those which are. Those you don’t are probably made up by me. The people, unless it is the name of a real historical person, are not real. They, too, have been created by me or by my friend and author George McVey. This is true of Nugget Nate and Penny Ryder, and Nathan Ryder who may or may not show up in this book. Even if real historical people are mentioned their lives may or may not adhere strictly to documented historical reference. In other words, what they do or say has little bearing in fact and they probably didn’t do or say it. This is a fictional story after all.

  Description

  Rilla doesn’t want a husband, but she wants to be a Pinkerton Agent. Morgan wants to keep his job, so he must marry her. The Pinkerton Matchmaker strikes again.

  Rilla’s experience growing up in a traveling theater troupe, taught her that men considered women property. Now she is going to be married, and she’s not going to let her temporary husband treat her that way. Then she meets Morgan.

  Denver Pinkerton agent, Morgan Weston, reluctantly agrees to marry and take his wife on the case and keep her out of danger. He just hopes an event from his past doesn’t come to light.

  Will they find the stolen gold they are sent to recover? If they find it, can they get it back to Denver safely? Will her beliefs about men and his issue with his past allow them to work successfully together? Will they ever reveal their thoughts about the other or keep their feelings to themselves?

  CHAPTER ONE

  “NO, THANK YOU,” Morgan Weston said as he and Archibald Gordon walked along the street in Denver, Colorado. They were headed to the Denver post office to mail some packages and letters. A newsboy had run beside them all the way along the block, asking them to buy a newspaper. Begging was more like it. He didn’t seem to understand the word no. Seeing the disappointment on the youth’s face, Morgan flipped him a coin.

  Morgan was sympathetic to the boy’s plight. He’d been a newsboy not that many years ago. But that didn’t mean he was going to purchase a paper he didn’t need. He’d read the morning paper at the Pinkerton Office dormitory where the male agents stayed while in Denver.

  Spring had finally come to Denver. The day was sunny but there was still a chill to the air. As they walked on, Morgan said, “Tell me more about this case.”

  Archie cleared his throat. “I was contacted by the warden of the Colorado Penitentiary concerning the personal effects of one of the inmates. The man died of pneumonia recently and the warden found a letter addressed to him written by the inmate. Jacob Owens was his name.

  “Seems the man was in prison for a string of stagecoach robberies. In the letter he confessed to robbing one of a chest of gold coins. The gold was never found. Supposedly, the letter tells where the gold can be found.”

  “What do you mean ‘supposedly’?” Morgan shot a glance at his boss and adjusted the packages he was carrying.

  “The man wrote a list of places that you have to go to in order to figure out where he buried the chest. The clues are in a variety of forms. Some are just a word or two, some drawings, some refer to a place, others describe what to look for when you get to each point. There are numbers that seem to make no sense. At least to the warden, me, or Marianne.”

  “How do you expect me to figure them out if Marianne and you can’t?” Morgan added the reference to his boss as an afterthought. Archie was smart and clever, but Marianne, she was just brilliant.

  “The first clues seem to indicate where to start and where to head. They get more difficult as they progress. I figure each clue will become clearer when you solve the previous one.

  “You were a scout during the war, though I know you were too young to enlist. That experience should help you in the journey.”

  Morgan pushed away thoughts of his time in the army. He didn’t want memories to rattle his thinking. “And you think this woman you plan for me to marry can help with this case?”

  “Miss Sims has an unusual background. She was raised in a theater troupe, so she’s able to disguise herself, and you for that matter. She’s used to traveling. As you go through the various towns along the way, you’ll be able to change who you two are to throw off anyone who may be tracking you.”

  “You think we’ll be followed?” Morgan squinted and adjusted his hat as they turned a corner and faced the sun.

  “I don’t know who the warden may have told about the letter. Maybe he told no one, but we need to be aware that he may have, and that he was hiring Pinkertons to find the gold. If you two vary your appearance, it will be harder to keep track of where you go.”

  Morgan only nodded. He wasn’t thrilled with the idea of a woman, and a wife at that, going along with him. He wouldn’t have minded another man. Having another mind working out the clues would be a help. But a woman? Well, he’d handled tougher assignments over the last few years. He’d manage this one. Besides, the marriage would be over as soon as they found the gold.

  Once their errands at the post office were complete, Morgan and Archie walked back the way they’d come. An old woman, bent over and shuffling along with a cane was stepping off the curb as they reached the intersection. She had a grimy white shawl on her head, tied under her chin. Another shawl, black wool, enveloped her shoulders and most of her short body. Her skirt was mud brown and trailed along the ground picking up dirt and dust as she walked. A loaded cloth bag hung from her arm.

  “Here, let me help you, madame,” Morgan offered, taking a gentle hold on the woman’s arm.

  She jerked from his grasp and swung her branch cane. “I don’t need no help, ya young whippersnapper. I ain’t asked fer it an’ I ain’t a takin’ it. Ya jest leave me alone.” Her voice was gravelly with age. She swung her cane at him again. “Let go o’ me afore I calls the police.”

  Morgan stepped back, shocked that the little old lady would object so ferociously to his offer of aid. “No need, ma’am. You just go on your way. No offense intended.” He looked at Archie who had remained on the sidewalk and was grinning.

  “How about we turn here rather than proceed along this street? It’s no longer to go this way than the way we came.” Archie was fighting back laughter at Morgan’s expense.

  “I think that’s a good idea. I wouldn’t want to upset the lady more than I already have.”


  They watched as the woman nearly tripped over her skirt hem as she stepped up onto the sidewalk from the street. She hadn’t pulled it up high enough for her foot to clear as she placed it on the curb.

  Morgan looked at Archie and they both just shook their heads as they turned the corner.

  ~~~~~

  Rilla Sims turned into the alley and hurried to the doorway where she’d hidden her carpetbag. She whipped the white shawl off her head and folded it into a small square. She did the same with the huge black shawl. Next the brown skirt was unbuttoned and dropped to the ground. She stepped out and scooped it up, folding it tightly. All three items went into the carpetbag on top of the boy’s clothing she’d worn when she’d pretended to be the newsboy earlier. Now she was dressed in her blue serge skirt and bodice.

  So far she wasn’t very impressed with the observational skills of the Pinkerton agents. They hadn’t paid enough attention to her to even suspect the people they’d met weren’t who they appeared to be.

  Well, it was time to go and meet the manager of the Pinkerton Detective Agency, Denver Office and the man she had to marry in order to become an agent. Even though it would only be for a few weeks at most, the idea of marrying some man felt like she was stepping back into the trap she’d just escaped.

  Rilla took the cane, pulled it apart at the hidden joint in the wood and tucked it into the bag. Checking her hair in a small mirror, she pinned her hat at a jaunty angle, picked up her bag, and headed to the address on the letterhead inviting her to come to Denver and become a Pinkerton agent.

  CHAPTER TWO

  “IF WE ARE going to succeed at this, then I have to take these four carpetbags. They have what we need for our disguises. Be thankful they aren’t trunks.” Rilla frowned up at Morgan. What was his problem? Archie had explained the plan to both of them yesterday before the farce of a wedding. Yes, she knew they were legally married, but there was no way she was going to sleep with the man. She was going to get out as soon as she could.

  Morgan Weston had seemed to understand the plan Archie laid out. Why they needed the costumes and makeup. At least that was her impression yesterday. Today, he was balking at everything she was taking. Everything that she thought, or rather knew, was important was packed in those four bags.

  “They won’t fit on the back of your horse with the other things we need to take.” Morgan’s hands were on his hips and he was staring down at her with a frown that started on his lips and went all the way up to his forehead.

  “What do you mean, on my horse? We are taking a buggy, aren’t we?” Dread began to fill Rilla’s stomach.

  “No, we’re going by horseback. The clues will no doubt take us into backcountry. No one is going to hide gold in town or along a road or trail. Too easy for someone to stumble upon it. That no one has in all the years Owens was in prison means he buried it off the beaten path. That means horseback. You can’t take a buggy off the trail.”

  Marianne and Archie came out of the big house that was the Pinkerton office in Denver. Rilla had stayed in one of the bedrooms last night while Morgan stayed in the coach house that comprised the men’s dormitory. At least the single male agents did. Many had stayed married to the female they’d been paired with since last summer when Archie had come up with this cockamamie idea.

  “The horses and donkey will be here shortly,” Marianne said. “I requested they be delivered by 9:30 this morning.”

  “The donkey can carry the bags and other supplies. That will leave you both to only have small packs on your horses. Much better for Mrs. Weston riding sidesaddle.” Archie dropped a saddlebag next to Rilla’s carpetbags.

  “Sidesaddle?” Morgan threw up his hands. “How is she supposed to ride through the back country on a sidesaddle?”

  “Well, I certainly can’t ride astride. It’s not ladylike.” Rilla leaned forward and gave him an irritated look. She didn’t tell him she barely knew how to ride sidesaddle, let alone astride. She’d only been on a horse a few times in her whole life. And not for very long either. Only when the part she was playing called for it. It was mostly ride slowly onstage, say her lines and ride offstage.

  The sound of horses clomping up the street made them all look. A string of two horses and a donkey followed a man riding another horse.

  “Howdy, Mr. Gordon. Here’s your string.” The stableman handed the rope to Archie. “The black is Condor, the paint mare is Biddy, and the donkey is Jack.”

  “Thanks, Oscar.”

  Rilla didn’t notice the man leave, she was looking at the tall black horse with its white mane and tail. It shook its head and bellowed a whinny. She took an involuntary step back. Was she going to have to ride that beast? Then she noticed the saddle and realized it wasn’t a sidesaddle. That horse was for Morgan.

  The other horse was standing still, twitching its ears. It was white with large markings so rich a brown they were almost red. It had a sidesaddle, so she would be riding it. The horse seemed less high-strung than the stallion. At least Rilla hoped that was the case.

  Morgan and Archie began to load the donkey with the equipment and bags they were taking. Marianne came to Rilla and took her hand.

  “You haven’t ridden much, have you?” Marianne whispered.

  “No.”

  “Come and meet Biddy. She’s a good girl. I’ve ridden her. She’s real sweet and gentle. You’ll do fine.” Marianne pulled Rilla to the horse and stroked its nose. “Pet her and let her get used to your smell. Don’t let her know you are unsure of yourself or she’ll act up.”

  Rilla, reluctantly, copied Marianne’s hand with her own. They spent the next few minutes petting Biddy while the men finished loading the donkey, and attached a saddlebag, canteen, and rifle holster to each horse’s saddle.

  By the time she was comfortably acquainted with the horse, Morgan and Archie were finished and it was time to head out of Denver. Marianne and Rilla hugged each other, and Rilla shook hands with Archie. He gave her a leg up and she was able to scramble into the saddle without too much difficulty.

  “I’ll send telegrams as we move so you have a general idea of where this treasure hunt leads us,” Morgan said to the couple seeing them off. “Let’s head out.” He waved and without much of a glance at Rilla, kicked his black stallion into a walk, leading Jack with a rope tied to his saddle, and leaving her to follow.

  Rilla touched the heel of her riding boot to Biddy’s flank and clung to the reins as the horse began moving.

  ~~~~~

  Morgan was thinking over the first clue in the list from Jacob Owens. ‘What you’re Seeken.’ The consensus of the four of them, Morgan, Rilla, Archie, and Marianne, was that, since they were looking for gold, the clue would lead them to Golden, Colorado. It wasn’t very far from Denver, only about twelve miles. The terrain was relatively flat, not like the mountains he was sure they would have to traverse as they went. They could make it in one day, even with the late morning start they were getting.

  The road between the two towns was fairly well traveled. It was rutted from the recent snow melts of March. April was here, and all Morgan could hope was that they wouldn’t have too many rainy days. Or days of snow. Those weren’t infrequent in the mountains. He hoped Rilla knew how cold it could be during the day, let alone at night. Tonight they’d have a hotel room in Golden. Other nights he was sure they would be sleeping along the trail. It all depended on where the clues led them.

  He had an idea of where they would go after Golden. He hadn’t talked about it with Rilla since he didn’t want to spend the ride arguing with her. Why he thought she’d disagree with him, Morgan wasn’t sure, but he wanted to begin this journey on good terms. He’d not made her happy with his objections to what she was bringing along. That they weren’t going by buggy didn’t help either.

  Morgan looked back, checking the donkey and Rilla. The donkey seemed to be getting along better than his wife. What an odd thought. Yes, she was his wife, but only in name and he knew barely anything about
her. He supposed they’d get to know each other as they traveled, but he didn’t really care one way or the other.

  Rilla didn’t look very comfortable. She was perched on her horse with her back straight as a rod. Morgan shook his head. It was clear she wasn’t much of a rider. She’d be sore if she stayed so stiff by the time they arrived in Golden. He gave a puffy snort. She most likely would be anyway if she wasn’t accustomed to riding. That would slow them down until she was confident in the saddle. At least she wasn’t afraid of the horse. Or maybe Biddy was just that docile.

  Morgan stopped to allow Rilla to catch up to him. There was enough room on the road for them to ride abreast. When she didn’t appear beside him, Morgan turned and waved her forward. He smothered a chuckle when she steered her horse wide around the donkey. Seems she was a bit scared after all.

  “I thought we could ride together here and talk about the clues. Where we think they might lead,” Morgan said as she rode up beside him.

  “Um, all right.” Rilla’s hands were tight on the reins but not pulling them too much. Seems she knew something about riding.

  They walked their horses, giving them a break from their canter. Morgan pulled the letter of clues out of his pocket. “This second clue doesn’t make much sense. ‘Viseuod Rowk’ What do you make of that?”

  “It’s not any word I know. Maybe it’s a code.” Rilla’s voice was pleasant to listen to. Low and soft. It made him wonder how she’d been heard when she was on stage.

  “Maybe, but I hope not. We don’t have anything that indicates substituting letters so we can break the code.”

  “Maybe they are just mixed up. The right letters, just rearranged.” Biddy stumbled slightly and Rilla gasped, jerking the reins.