Waves of disappointment crashed on her. Monday? How could she outwit her father’s guards for that long? Did Marianne know how much work and daring had gone into her getting here to the interview?
“But I wanted to apply for the job before anyone else,” Arielle pouted.
The other woman gave her a sympathetic glance. “I realize that. We’ve had one other applicant arrive early and I told her the same thing. I believe you and Regina Caulfield will get along famously. You both certainly are ambitious enough. Perhaps you will meet at the interviews. Please come back on the day listed in the paper.”
“All right,” Arielle said. “I will be back. I do want to be a Pinkerton detective.”
Marianne escorted her to the door once more.
Going back down the street, Arielle brooded. How would she be able to hold off her father’s guards for that long? Papa had mandated they deliver her straight to Matthias Blackburn. She’d only been able to outwit them under the pretense of illness. Once they had gone, she crawled out the second-floor window and down the tree to make her way to the agency
Was all that effort for nothing now? On the heel of that thought came another. More importantly, how would she be able to hold off her future husband’s arrival at the boarding house tomorrow?
She almost stomped her foot in frustration.
Her original plan had been going so well. Once she’d landed, she’d catch a train to her friend, Elizabeth Billingsby, an Octoroon heiress the same as her who had been sent abroad for her education. When she arrived in Maryland, she fell in love with a humble preacher and made her life with him as his wife. Elizabeth had been willing to have her and Arielle had looked forward to it.
All of that changed when, in an effort to see what news America held for her, she bought a newspaper from the screaming young man.
Her eyes had nearly popped out of their sockets as she read the words:
“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…”
Daring women who seek adventure. This opportunity was made for her.
Arielle had gone to and sat on the top of an abandoned barrel, testing its strength as she read the advertisement again.
…you will earn the rank of private detective.
“Private detective?” she’d said the word out loud. “Arielle Bradford, Private detective of the Pinkerton Agency.” It sounded much better than wife of Matthias Blackburn, politician.
Still lost in her thoughts, she turned the corner and slammed into a brick wall. At least that’s what it felt like until a pair of steely manacles clutched at her arms and lifted her away.
“My apologies. Are you all right?”
Arielle ignored the warmth of those steely manacles and commanded with a touch of bite, “Do let me go, please.”
She was released at once. Arielle knew she was a small woman but surely not invisible!
Taking a step back, she brushed and did a quick inspection of her clothes to ensure they weren’t mussed. The man, whoever he was, could not in any way have been in danger of being bowled over by her five-foot frame. The truth of that became abundantly clear when she looked up, way up, to see the tallest man she’d ever seen standing before her.
A handsome Negro man at that. One of the most handsome she’d ever seen.
Skin the color of a midnight sky covered his towering frame. His shoulders blocked the rays of the sun, so that her whole body was in complete shadow. Dressed in well pressed but obviously second-hand clothes. Arielle didn’t let that bother her. Men of all social statuses had fallen for her. Who was she to allow a man’s material gains, or lack thereof, stop them from admiring the beauty she possessed?
“I’m quite all right,” she murmured, letting her voice become smooth and husky. One admirer’s eyes had once rolled into the back of his head when she purred his name…pity she couldn’t remember his name.
“Thank you for your quick thinking, Mister—”
“If you’ll excuse me, I’m late for an appointment.” The giant took a step back, gave her a slight bow and then hurried away from her, leaving Arielle’s mouth gaping in his wake.
Chapter Three
“Has the briefing already started?” Caleb asked as he closed the door to the office.
Marianne nodded as she took his outer garments. “Yes, he’s just started so go right on in.” She shooed him away.
Caleb hated being late but Cathay had become ill and he stayed with her for two extra days to ensure she was back on the mend. She’d always been sickly but lately, he could tell her health was deteriorating. What a sad end for a woman who had given so much.
Not like that spoiled, colored woman he’d bumped into on his way back, having raced from the train depot. It only took one look to characterize her for some of the freed women he’d come across since his escape.
Though, if only he admitted it to himself, he’d never seen a more beautiful woman. And what a curious, lilting voice she possessed. It reminded him of Sorcha’s strange way of speaking but in a different way. Whereas Sorcha’s voice had a flute-like quality to it, the colored woman’s voice held a deeper tone to it, like a roll of thunder in the distance, warning of a storm.
He shook his head at his odd thoughts. It wasn’t likely he’d ever meet her again so he might as well erase her from his mind.
Caleb knocked on the door and then opened it. The rest of the agents were seated around the desk with Archie. Archie waved him in. “Come in, Caleb. Just getting started.”
“I’m sorry for being late.”
“You aren’t. We’re just going over some particulars of the upcoming cases being assigned to our office.”
He nodded and sat in the empty chair. Made of sturdy oak, it was one of the few that would hold his weight. But most of the men with the agency were of the big, strapping sort. They’d all broken a chair or two at some point.
Archie discussed the particulars of the case load, going over which agents would be traveling to what state, certain details, and the like. Caleb listened attentively but had little to add. There were times it still amazed him that he could be here, equal with the rest of these men, and using his own wits, and strength to fight crime.
All because of Sorcha. His heart lurched. Nearly twelve years later, the wound caused by her passing throbbed anew. Would it always ache?
The meeting came to an end and as they stood up to leave, one of the men said, “Archie, are you sure about us having to marry these women?”
Caleb froze. Marry?
“Yes, I’m sure about that. We have to protect their reputations. This is only for the duration of the case, not for life.”
Married? How had he missed that announcement? It was already hard enough to think of there being female agents traipsing around the dormitory. Although, perhaps he wasn’t being fair. Moses had been a spy for the Union army. Cathay had marched with the Buffalo soldiers. It wasn’t so far-fetched to think a woman could be a Pinkerton agent.
But married…to another agent?
“I don’t want to get married, “another of the men grumbled. “This is a harebrained idea and you know it.”
Archie eyed them all and said, “Anyone who doesn’t want to help train our new recruits under the guidelines I’ve stated are more than welcome to leave.”
They all shifted uneasily and then one by one, left the room.
“Caleb, I need to speak with you privately. Close the door, will you?”
Bronco, one of the last to leave, smiled. “I hope you’re not in trouble for taking too many of Pearl’s peppermint sticks.”
“Get out,” Archie told the man good-naturedly.
Once the door closed, and Caleb was seated next to him again, Archie said, “I have a client waiting in the next room and he’s going to
come and speak with us right now.”
As if on cue, Marianne opened the door and then stepped aside.
Caleb stood as a Negro man entered. He wasn’t too much shorter than Caleb was. But unlike him, he wore clothes that spoke of wealth along with an air of quiet confidence.
“Thank you for seeing me, Mr. Gordon,” the man said with an inclination of his head.
Archie came around the desk. “This is Caleb Smith, one of the agents.”
Caleb reached out and grabbed the other man’s hand and shook it. He expected the man’s hand to be soft and wet. Instead, it was as calloused and hard as his own. “I’m Matthias Blackburn, deputy representative to Governor Lou Wallace of New Mexico.”
A Negro politician. Caleb digested what it meant. Reconstruction had brought a lot of early opportunities for equal representation for Negroes. Yet, from the number of church meetings he’d gone to over the years, everyone recognized the urgency of electing Negros into state and government offices. Getting into politics had to happen and quickly.
Archie said, “Usually, a client would reach out to me for the details of the case with little interaction between the agent and the client. However, this is a unique situation. I’ll let Mr. Blackburn explain. “
They sat down and Archie inclined his head. “Mr. Blackburn?”
“I’ve been sent by Governor Wallace in order to secure the services of the Pinkertons to solve the mysterious disappearances of women for the past month and a half.”
Archie gave a grunt. “You’re not going to be assigned to that case, Caleb. I’ve already an agent for that.”
“However, on my behalf, I am enlisting the help of the Pinkertons because there has been a threat on my life.”
Caleb sat back in his chair. “Tell me about it.”
“Jim Crow laws are tightening up everything. Even those of us who are in office are feeling the restrictions. Governor Wallace has risked his own personal safety in his continued support of me as his deputy representative.” Matthias’s cheek hardened. “It’s a tough stance for him but he refuses to back down.”
“Why would someone threaten you?”
“Because it’s very possible that my name will be placed on the ballet to be elected as a state representative. There are those who’d rather kill me than see any Negro representation happen. As one dissenter told Governor Wallace, ‘One Hiram Revels is enough.’”
Caleb remember the monumental moment last year when Hiram Revels became the first Negro to be elected as Senator. When he and Cathay read the news, they both cried.
“Do you have a list of suspects?”
The man reached into his vest pocket and handed over a folded-up piece of paper. “It pained me to write that list.”
Caleb saw five names written in enviable neat penmanship. Sheriff Keith Morrison, Captain Gerard King, formerly of the Confederacy, Bartender Sam Meredith, Anna Wilder, widower of land owner Octavius Wilder, and Aaron Roberts, businessman, prominent opposer to Governor Wallace.
“Why do you suspect these individuals?”
The next little while was spent listening to Mr. Blackburn’s theories. When he finished, Matthias’s eyes fixed on a point in the distance. “It’s not that I wouldn’t mind dying. Freedom is worth every drop of blood in my body. But… it’s better for me to live in order to stop slavery…all slavery…from resurfacing.”
Sorcha’s words echoed in his mind from long ago and he said, “Mr. Blackburn, a very wise woman once told me that as long as you have people who seek power, and others who turn their heads, there will always be slavery.”
“Perhaps. But not on my watch.”
Caleb knew then this man had his lifetime allegiance.
Matthias took in a deep breath as if to rid himself of his thoughts and then replied. “This may seem unimportant to the case, but it is. I am getting married next week. My bride came into town about a day or so ago but I received word she was ill. Probably from the sea voyage.”
Both he and Archie murmured congratulations.
“We will marry in my hometown in New Mexico, but I will pretend that my wife’s brother—you—is traveling to New Mexico for the wedding. When you arrive, you’ll be able to infiltrate the governor’s mansion and keep an eye out.”
Caleb didn’t need to be told how he would infiltrate. More than likely, he’d be used as a servant of some sort. But he would worry about that when it was time.
“I understand.”
A smile brightened Matthias’s face. “I am looking forward to jumping the broom.”
Archie’s eyebrow arched. “Jumping the broom? What’s that?”
“Getting married,” Caleb answered. “Slaves aren’t…weren’t…allowed to get married by legal means so we jumped the broom.”
“Yes,” Matthias added. “I’ve waited two years for my bride.” A satisfied gleam came to his eyes. “Now she’s here.”
For a few moments, the politician waxed on about his bride to be. About her beauty and intellect. As he listened, Caleb thought of that woman he bumped into again. She seemed like the perfect fit for a man like Matthias Blackburn.
He could tell from her attitude that she was a freed woman of color. Some of the freed women he’d come across had considered his background beneath them. There was a sizeable population of Negroes who had never known slavery, going back even before the American revolution. Thinking of the colored woman from earlier, he was pretty sure she would be like those, unable to see the formerly enslaved as equals.
Caleb brought his thoughts under control as he heard Matthias say, “When she is on the mend, I will contact you with the dates for travel.”
Archie gave a curt nod. “We’ll be ready at a moment’s notice.” A pointed look came from Archie’s eyes which Caleb interpreted correctly. He stood and shook the man’s hand again. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Mr. Blackburn.”
“Likewise.”
He closed the door behind him.
“Did Mr. Blackburn decide to accept your escort, Caleb?” Marianne asked as she came from the kitchen.
“Yes, he did. I’ll be leaving when he’s collected his bride.”
“Oh!” Marianne’s eyes opened. “He’s getting married then? I didn’t know about that.”
Caleb figured that was a first. Every agent knew Marianne was the leader behind the agency despite the fact she carried the title of secretary. He spent a little time giving her the bare details of the case. Although the rules were to not discuss the case, he figured Marianne needed to know.
An odd look came over her face as he told her. “Strange.” She tapped her finger against her mouth. “I wonder…”
“Yes?”
She stared at him for a few seconds and then gave a tiny shrug. “Perhaps it’s nothing.”
Arielle fingered the arabette brooch her father had given her years ago. Four days of planning, stalling, and drinking the vile contents of a broth had gotten her here again.
The door of the Pinkerton agency.
Her father’s guards were probably looking for her, but she knew they’d never think to look for her here. At least not right away. By the time they did consider it, she hoped to be assigned to her first case.
In a way, she had to thank that tall, giant man she bumped into. If it hadn’t been for his rejection of her, she probably wouldn’t have worked so hard to be here. No man, from the moment she knew her smile could render them speechless, had ever not found interest in her.
But he hadn’t.
She continued to toy with the brooch, staring at the painted wood grain of the door. Perhaps her father had been right in some aspects of her life. What had she lived for until now? Though she loved the attention of men, and basked in the way they fawned, adored, and practically worshipped the very ground she walked upon, life had grown rather dull.
Brielle enjoyed her mathematical pursuits. Without fail, she took part in the weekly gatherings of the local mathematical society. From what Arielle had gathered, they sat
around, solving numerical puzzles of sorts or discussing some theory.
But at least her sister had a sense of purpose.
Camille had her interests in horticulture, studying plant life and growing things. The arabette flowers that grew around their plantation blossomed under her ministrations.
Danielle worked the plantation along with the workers, refusing to submit to the tender life that Arielle pursued. The fields, she’d often said, were her true home. She preferred to spend every waking moment outside, basking in communion of God and nature.
All of her sisters had something which fulfilled their lives. Arielle didn’t. She’d learned several languages over the course of her life. Due, not because of a wish to better herself—it was because she wanted to make sure she could woo the current man who sought her favor and understood his words.
She let go of the arabette brooch. Squaring her shoulders, she rang the doorbell and waited for entry.
Marianne Chapman opened the door again. “Welcome back, Miss Bradford.”
Arielle walked in and saw a number of women loitering about.
“I’ve been rather surprised by the number of applicants for the position,” Marianne confided to her. “But I’m glad. It lets my boys know that women are just as interested in pursuing justice as well as they are.” Marianne smiled back at her. “Probably more since their sons and daughters might be affected by the plot of some nefarious criminal.”
Arielle made an appropriate murmur, looking at the women.
“I trust you filled out the questions I gave you?”
She handed the filled-out paper over and with Marianne’s permission, she went to the library to return the book she’d borrowed.
A few women had congregated here. One particular woman for some inexplicable reason caught her eye. Striding over to her, Arielle asked to the woman’s back, “Do you like to read?”
The woman turned around and Arielle found herself duly impressed. She was quite lovely with an understated elegance made all the more evident for its simplicity.
“I do. So many good stories.” The woman had a distinct accent, husky with a French sound to it.
An Agent for Arielle (The Pinkerton Matchmaker Book 12) Page 3
