An Agent for Alexina

by Laura Beers

  Unable to stop him, Alexina watched in horror as Charlie turned and walked to the edge of the boxcar.

  “No!” She rushed toward him and grabbed his arm. “You don’t have to do this.”

  He looked back with tears in his eyes. “It’s the only way.”

  “No, it’s not!”

  The train lurched to the side, and she dropped to a kneeling position. Up ahead, she saw a dark tunnel looming further down the track.

  “You need to get down and flatten yourself against the train,” she ordered, her voice panicking.

  “Don’t worry about me, Pink.”

  She screamed, “Charlie! No!”

  Suddenly, she was lying in bed at the cottage and she turned her head toward the window. Charlie Rowe was staring back at her from outside.

  Alexina gasped as her eyes flew open. She was having that same nightmare again, but this time it had evolved to include her current mission. She turned her head toward the window, expecting to see a darkened window, but instead she saw the undeniable shadowed face of a man staring back at her. Her heart hammered inside of her chest, but in a blink of an eye, the man was gone.

  Reaching for the pistol under her pillow, she shoved back her covers, and jumped off her bed. Quickly, she slammed opened her bedroom door and raced toward the front door.

  “What’s wrong?” Dawson shouted as he moved to a sitting position on the floor.

  Barely sparing him a glance, she declared, “I saw a man staring at me through the window.”

  She’d just placed her hand on the door handle when Dawson’s arm slipped around her waist and pulled her back. “Hold on there. You can’t just run outside.”

  She fought against his strong hold. “I can. Our suspect is outside.”

  “Yes, he is,” Dawson exclaimed. “But it’s dark outside. It could very well be a trap to lure you outside.”

  “We can’t just let him get away!” she shouted.

  Tightening his hold on her, he pressed, “We don’t even know if he’s alone, Alex. He could be trying to ambush us. It’s safer to stay inside and keep the door bolted.”

  She stopped fighting his grip. “I hate it that you’re right.”

  “Of course, I am right. It is a cross that I must bear,” Dawson joked as he loosened his hold on her. “Besides, you were prepared to charge outside wearing only a nightgown.”

  “I see your point,” she said, looking down at her bare feet. “Next time, I’ll sleep in my boots.”

  Dawson grinned. “That’s not exactly what I meant, and you know it.” He led her toward the small, worn sofa. “Now start from the beginning and tell me exactly what you saw.”

  She grimaced as she sat down. “I woke up, and I turned toward the window,” she began slowly. “I saw a man staring back at me.”

  “Can you describe him?” he asked, dropping down next to her.

  She bit her lower lip. “He had fair skin and dark hair.”

  “Anything else?”

  She shook her head. “No. It was too dark.”

  “That isn’t very much to go on. You just described almost every man in this town.” Draping his arm along the back of the sofa, he asked, “What were you dreaming about prior to waking up?”

  “Why?”

  “Could you have imagined it?”

  Outraged, she jumped up from her seat. “You don’t believe me!”

  “Hold on there,” he said calmly. “I never said that.”

  “You implied it,” she contended.

  Dawson frowned. “I never did. Just, please, humor me,” he pressed.

  Reluctantly, she lowered herself back down onto the sofa. “My dream was about my last case.” There. She had told him.

  “Can you expand on that?”

  “Why?”

  Dawson studied her for a moment. “I’ve noticed that you don’t like talking about yourself,” he finally said. “Why is that?”

  “And why do you ask so many personal questions?” she challenged. “We’re partners on this case, not friends.”

  He humphed. “To be effective partners, we must be able to anticipate each other’s next move. The only way to accomplish that is by learning as much as we can about each other.”

  “I don’t like to share personal details about my past,” she admitted.

  “Why is that?”

  She averted her gaze away from his, embarrassed. “Honestly, my past is not worth talking about. It was filled with heartache and loneliness, and now that I am older, I am trying to forget it.”

  “You can’t forget your past, or you’re destined to repeat it.” He reached for her hand which was balled into a fist in her lap. “You can trust me, Alex. I won’t ever betray you.”

  His words echoed in her mind ‘I won’t ever betray you’. Why did that provide her with so much comfort and relief? She’d always avoided talking about herself, but with Dawson, she felt a desire to share a part of herself with him. However, that would require her to be vulnerable, and she hated being vulnerable. With anyone.

  For a long moment she was silent, hoping she was strong enough to confess this part of the case. Her words started off tentatively.

  “I followed a suspect onto a train. When I went to arrest him, he decided to run.”

  “Like most criminals,” Dawson teased.

  “Exactly, only this criminal decided to escape onto the top of a boxcar. When I cornered him, he jumped off rather than go back to jail.”

  Dawson stared at her in amazement. “He jumped off a moving train?”

  She nodded.

  “And you witnessed it?”

  She nodded again.

  The next moment, she found herself wrapped up in Dawson’s strong, protective embrace. She didn’t fight it, and she soon found her head resting against his wide chest.

  “What a horrible thing for you to witness,” he murmured.

  “I tried to save him,” she whimpered. “I didn’t want him to die. Not like that. But he wouldn’t get down and there was a tunnel…” Her words stilled as a sob escaped her lips.

  His arms tightened around hers. “It wasn’t your fault. He chose to jump.”

  “I tried… I really tried,” she whispered as the first of many tears started rolling down her cheeks.

  Dawson leaned back and gently wiped the tears with his hands. “I have learned many things about you over these two days, Alexina. You are brave, strong, and kind.” He smiled tenderly. “I have no doubt that you tried to save that man.”

  “I wasn’t strong enough…”

  He cut her off. “Not everyone wants to be saved.”

  “But I should have been stronger…”

  Dawson met her gaze, and she was surprised by the depth of compassion she saw reflecting back at her. “You did your best, and that is all anyone can ever ask of you.”

  “I still see his face in my dreams,” she admitted, wincing.

  “His death is not your fault. He made his choice. It’s time for you to move on and accept that.”

  “It is not that easy,” she replied, blinking back her tears. “I don’t have very many regrets in my life, but that’s one of them.”

  “Regrets can be crippling at times,” he stated softly.

  The way he said the words with such heartache, she was convinced there was more to his statement than he was letting on.

  “You seem to speak from experience,” she prodded.

  Dawson slipped his arm around her shoulder and pulled her close. His words began off hesitantly.

  “A few years ago, I started courting a remarkable young woman. Her name was Lucy. She was pretty, kind, and had the sweetest disposition. I knew from the moment I met her that she would make a wonderful wife and an even better mother.”

  “What happened?”

  “Weeks turned into months, and months turned into years. Yet, I couldn’t seem to find the courage to propose to her,” he admitted. “She never pressured me, but my pa told me it was time to propose or to cut he
r loose.”

  She turned to look up at him. “What did you do?”

  “The next day, I rode up to her farm with the intention of proposing, but I couldn’t. I knew it wasn’t right.” He let out a deep, heartfelt sigh. “I regret hurting her, but I knew I could never love her the way she deserved.”

  “Why was that?”

  “Lucy was a safe bet. I knew exactly what I was getting with her, but my soul craved excitement. I even told her of my desire to become a Pinkerton agent, and she thought it was a passing whim. She said I should be content working as a deputy rather than go gallivanting around the country solving crimes.”

  Alexina found herself relaxing into his arms, and it felt as though she always belonged there. “Being a Pinkerton agent and excitement do go hand in hand, but so does danger.”

  “That’s exactly what I am looking for,” he replied.

  She laughed. “Pinkerton agents also do an enormous amount of paperwork. We have to file a report after every case.”

  “I do hate writing up reports.” He shuddered dramatically.

  “Everyone does, but that goes along with the job.”

  A silence descended over them, but it was a comfortable one. After a moment, Dawson shared, “Did Mr. Gordon tell you that I applied five times before my application was finally accepted.”

  Turning in his arms, she repeated, “Five times?”

  He nodded.

  “No wonder they assigned me to train you.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  She smirked. “Because I am the best trainer.”

  “My, aren’t you the conceited one,” he joked, his smile lighting up his face.

  Alexina’s eyes roamed Dawson’s face, and her eyes landed on the faint stubble that roughened his chin. Feeling bold, she ran her fingers along the length of his jaw. She heard him take a deep breath, and her hand stilled.

  She met his gaze, and his dark blue eyes drew her in their depths as he watched her, watching him. His eyes held desire, but it was mingled with longing. No man had ever looked at her that way. She had seen desire, lust, but not longing. It thrilled and frightened her at the same time.

  A rooster crowed in the distance, alerting them to the earliness of the hour, and effectively breaking the spell over them.

  Suddenly shy, she averted her eyes to his chest.

  “Why don’t you go back to bed before we both do something we might regret?” he suggested in a hoarse voice.

  Shifting her gaze toward her bedroom door, she replied, “I must admit that I don’t want to go back in there tonight.”

  “Would you prefer sleeping with me,” he hesitated, “at least, for tonight.”

  Tentatively, she admitted, “I would, very much.”

  Dawson tugged her closer, and Alexina laid her head on his chest. Very soon, she found herself drifting off into a peaceful slumber.

  Crouching down, Dawson stared at the boot prints outside of Alexina’s bedroom window. The suspect had been within their grasps, but it would have been unwise to have engaged him last night. It was dark, and their suspect had the advantage. He’d made the right call to hold Alexina back… with him. In his arms. For hours.

  He began cursing under his breath. Last night, something had shifted between them, and he was forced to recognize that he was beginning to develop deep feelings for his trainer. Blast it! He had almost kissed her… multiple times. How he’d managed not to kiss her when she was snuggled in his arms was a miracle in itself.

  Dawson had never felt this way about a woman before, not even Lucy. Yet, he couldn’t fall for his partner. His pretend wife. At the end of this case, they would seek an annulment and work separate cases. But he didn’t want to say goodbye to Alexina. In fact, he never wanted to let her go.

  “Did you find anything?” Alexina said, appearing next to him, surprising him.

  He rose. “No.”

  “Did I startle you?” she asked, giving him an odd look.

  “No. I was just deep in thought.”

  She smirked. “You should be more cautious. If I’d had nefarious intentions toward you…”

  He cut her off. “Are you enjoying yourself?”

  “Yes, I am.”

  With a shake of his head, he pointed at the boot tread. “The boot print is well-defined. Our suspect must have stood in the same position for a long time.”

  “I concur.”

  “Good,” he grunted.

  Alexina placed a hand on his sleeve. “What is it, Dawson?” she asked, her voice filled with concern.

  He turned to face her, and his breath hitched at her sheer beauty. She was dressed in a simple, long-sleeved, ivory shirt and a blue prairie skirt. Even in the plainest clothing, she looked radiant.

  “Nothing,” he replied sharply.

  She narrowed her eyes playfully. “You’re lying.”

  “I thought agents don’t analyze each other,” he countered.

  “True,” she answered with a mischievous gleam in her eye, “but you are my partner… and my husband.”

  He went to brush past her. “We aren’t truly married.”

  “I thought you wanted to keep me?” she asked in a pouty voice.

  Make no mistake of that, he thought. He gave her a weak smile. “If you continue to spoil me with your cooking, I will have no choice but to keep you.”

  She laughed as he hoped she would. “Just so you know, not every assignment affords us the luxury of eating so well.”

  “Is that so?”

  She nodded. “There have been many times where I was forced to live on hardtack. Sometimes, I even had to trap my own food while staking out a suspect.”

  “You have eaten hardtack?”

  “Many times, over the years,” she shared. “It was a common staple during the war, and we ate it all the time at the orphanage. It just requires flour and water.”

  Dawson grew solemn at the thought of Alexina living in an orphanage. What a sad way to grow up… without loving parents. No wonder she kept running away.

  “Are you ready to teach?” she asked, looking at him expectantly. “I’ve already started the cornmeal mush for our students.”

  “That was most kind of you.” He offered his arm to Alexina and was pleased when she slipped her hand into the crook of his arm.

  “Do all teachers offer a hot meal to their students?” she asked.

  “Most do,” he revealed. “For some students, it may be their only hot meal for the day.” He glanced over at her. “You seem different today.”

  Alexina tsked. “Agents don’t analyze each other, remember,” she teased.

  “It is more of an observation.”

  With her gaze firmly on the schoolhouse, she shared, “I suppose you bring out a more playful side of me.”

  “I like this side of you.”

  She laughed, and she seemed lighter than she had in days, almost buoyant. “Why am I not surprised?”

  “You were much too stiff and formal when I first met you.”

  Alexina grew silent for a moment, and he feared that he’d offended her. When he opened his mouth to apologize, she spoke first. “Female agents are held to a different standard. We’re never allowed to let our guard down for fear that our male counterparts will judge us and find us lacking.”

  “That can’t possibly be true,” he contended.

  She huffed. “Lady Pinkertons must be able to cry on command, be a master of disguises, and be able to collect information that no man is able to obtain. We must appear demure, but we are trained in multiple weapons. Sometimes it is exhausting to continually prove oneself.”

  Dawson stopped and turned to face her. “You have nothing to prove to me, Agent Wayne. I already know what a remarkable agent you are.”

  Her face was expressionless, but there was a twinkle of mischief in her eyes. “Are you saying that because you want me to make you another batch of fried apples?”

  “No, I am saying that because it is the truth.” He chuckled. “
But I do love your fried apples.”

  The sound of children playing near the schoolhouse drew their attention. “Come,” she said, leading him toward the school. “I can’t wait to show the children my demonstration for the day.”

  “I’m afraid to ask, what it is?”

  She grinned. “Rope tying.”

  “Rope tying?”

  Her grin grew to a wide smile. “Yes, and how to escape being tied up.”

  Turning his head toward the heavens, he pretended to be put out. “Why can’t you teach arithmetic or demonstrate a science project?”

  “Where’s the fun in that?” she asked.

  Before he could respond, the children all swarmed around Alexina and began peppering her with questions. She removed her arm from his and started answering them. When she told them about the rope tying demonstration, a collective cheer went up.

  Yesterday, Alexina was nervous about being in the schoolhouse for the first time, and now she was a natural with the children. How could he not care for this woman?

  9

  Alexina placed the lid back on the Dutch oven and stepped away from the warm hearth. She took a moment to smooth out the wrinkles in her maroon, high-bustled gown, and to collect her thoughts. Mr. Barrow would be by any minute to escort her to supper. The more she thought about it, the more she knew that Barrow wasn’t their suspect. He was too gentle with Timothy to be capable of hurting women.

  “You aren’t nervous to be courted by William, are you?” Dawson teased from behind her.

  “I am not,” she asserted, turning around to face him. “If you must know, I am confident that Barrow is not our suspect.”

  Dawson wiped a hand over his chin thoughtfully. “I agree. He doesn’t fit the profile of someone that would abuse a woman.” He went to retrieve the shotgun leaning against the wall. “It will be my pleasure to inform Barrow that you won’t be dining with him this evening.”

  “No, don’t do that,” she argued. “Barrow might know more than he realizes. I’ll bring up the women over dinner and gauge his reaction.”

  Dawson walked back to the table. “I’ll join you for supper.”

  “You will not,” she declared. “I can handle Barrow on my own.”