An Agent for Hope

  An Agent for Hope

  The Pinkerton Matchmaker Series

  By Marie Higgins

  Copyright © 2020 by Marie Higgins

  Cover Art by V McKevitt

  Edited by Stacey Haynes, Teresa Pearson, and Veronica Mesia

  Edition License Notes

  This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author's work.

  Table of Contents

  Copyright Page

  An Agent for Hope (The Pinkerton Matchmaker, #72)

  ONE

  TWO

  THREE

  FOUR

  FIVE

  SIX

  SEVEN

  EIGHT

  NINE

  TEN

  ELEVEN

  Pinkerton Matchmaker stories

  Author’s Bio

  Hope’s fiancé is dead, and the only way she can repair her heart is to become a Pinkerton agent and marry her trainer – in name only, of course. But after working so closely with a man for several months as husband and wife, can she continue to guard her heart from someone who is completely different from her dead fiancé?

  But then... different can be good, too.

  ONE

  Today was the day. She felt it in her bones.

  For several years, Hope Larsen’s mother told her that what she felt in her bones was arthritis. Yet, it only took Hope two years to realize it wasn’t. Being an active woman at age twenty-eight, she shouldn’t have arthritis. But she did have a gift, which was why she felt things so strongly. Today was no different. Hope awoke this morning feeling that today was when she’d finally catch the train robber, Frank Hinchee. Her so-called gift left a bubble of excitement in her bosom.

  Leaving her mare tied to a tree, she headed for the small grove, darting from one spot to another as she tried to hide herself from the log cabin down the slope. The sun would be setting soon, and she knew this was when she’d get to spy on her target.

  Hope had been a Pinkerton agent for six months now, and she was confident that she’d learned all she needed. The first five months were extremely straining and she argued with her partner more than they talked civilly. Once she was trained, she high-tailed it out of there, telling her partner they could go their separate ways.

  Working by herself didn’t scare her at all. She’d been on her own since her mother died a few years ago. She was well past the marriageable age, and besides, she was used to doing things her own way.

  Hope found a spot to sit inside the cluster of trees, and pulled out her binoculars. She held them up to her eyes and watched the cabin below. Smoke billowed from the chimney, and on a few occasions, she noticed an over-sized woman with long, ratted gray hair walk by a window. The curtains were thin enough to see what was going on inside.

  For two weeks now, she’d been following leads, and spying on those who were on her suspects’ list. One of the leads was a young boy who was probably fifteen or so who lived in this cabin with his mother. Hope had heard that Robert’s mother had been married to Frank Hinchee, and if that were the case, the boy was probably Frank’s son, even though Frank rarely came to the cabin. She wouldn’t believe that a father would ignore his own son. Hope was certain Frank checked on Robert’s welfare.

  The door to the cabin opened. Hope leaned forward and tightened her fingers around the binoculars as she held her breath. Mrs. Hinchee stepped out, carrying a steamy pot. Carefully, using a towel between her hands and the pot, the round woman waddled toward a flat rock near a campfire, and when reaching the destination, she set the pot down. Still using the towel, she lifted the lid and peeked inside before fitting the lid back on. As she walked back toward the cabin, Hope realized the woman’s steps were slower. Mrs. Hinchee’s gaze jumped around her surroundings more than usual.

  Hope scowled. Had the woman realized there was someone watching her? Hope prayed that wasn’t the case.

  From the thicket near the house, the bushes rattled. Mrs. Hinchee swung toward the sound.

  Hope zoomed her binoculars toward the area as she adjusted the focus on the lens. Shadows were growing thicker, and soon Hope wouldn’t be able to see much of anything but the cabin and the light coming from inside.

  Mrs. Hinchee reached to the waist of her skirt, and slowly pulled out a steel object. Hope sucked in a quick breath. Why was the woman carrying a Derringer? Only women who were guilty of a crime – or hiding an outlaw – packed such a weapon.

  Just as the middle-aged woman neared the bush, a large rodent ran out from underneath, scurrying toward the rundown shed. Hope shivered. There weren’t many things she was afraid of, but she definitely would have screamed and hopped up on something if she had been that woman.

  Mrs. Hinchee slid the Derringer back in the waist of her skirt and continued back to her cabin, moving faster than before. Hope kept the binoculars to her eyes and slowly moved from one side of the yard to the other, searching for anything that was out of place, but the only thing that was odd was the steaming pot sitting on the rock. All Hope could figure out was that the woman placed it there to cool. Perhaps this was supper for Mrs. Hinchee and her son.

  Relaxing, Hope lowered the binoculars and sighed. Something underneath her butt-cheek felt uncomfortable, and she realized she hadn’t quite swept the area before sitting down.

  She rolled to her knees, turning to clear the ground for her to sit easier, when suddenly, a man’s arms reached out and grabbed her, pushing her to the ground on her back. The abrupt movement made her gasp for breath, but when the man laid on top of her, she thought for sure his weight would crush her lungs.

  “What do you think—” she growled, wiggling beneath him in attempt to get free.

  “Shhh...” he placed his hand over her mouth, “or he’ll hear you.”

  Hope didn’t know whether to continue to fight the man whose hard body kept hers on the ground, or do what he said. However, his voice sounded oddly familiar, and for some crazy reason, it comforted her.

  She stopped struggling and the man moved his hand off her mouth. The cluster of trees had created shadows, which made it hard to recognize him. He wore a hat, but then most men did. He wore a duster coat and the material felt crisp and new on her palms. He didn’t smell like he’d been sleeping with the pigs, nor did he have an earthy scent as if he’d slept under the stars. She could only assume he wasn’t a drifter and that he probably had a well-paying job. The shape of his face was oblong, but not overly so. From what she could tell from the outline of his face and the hardness of his chest where her hands were pressed against, the man took good care of his body.

  And... she took in a deep breath, he even smelled clean, and very manly.

  Finally, her ears picked up sounds from around them. The clip-clop of a horse’s hooves moving very close to the trees caught her attention. She swung her head toward the sound, but she couldn’t see anyone. The snort of the horse told her how close the rider was. If the strange man on top of her hadn’t knocked her down, the rider would have most definitely noticed her.

  It couldn’t be possible that this stranger had actually protected her, or heaven forbid, saved her from being caught. No, she wouldn’t think that way. She could take care of herself since she’d done it for several years.

  The horse’s hooves moved by the trees and headed down the hillside toward the cabin. Hope breathed a little easier, but when the stranger on top of her rolled away, she was vastly
relieved.

  The man grabbed the binoculars she’d dropped, and, lying on his belly, he held them to his eyes as he peered down toward the cabin.

  Gritting her teeth to try not to yell at the man – only because it would make noise and alert the rider to them – she scooted on her belly beside the stranger. “If you don’t mind, those are my binoculars.”

  As she reached for them, the man pushed her hand away, keeping his gaze on the scene below.

  “I don’t know who you are,” she said softly but tried to make her voice stern for this man’s purpose, “but you are interrupting my job. If you can’t tell already, this is my investigation, not yours. So, if you’d kindly leave...”

  “Actually,” he said, lowering the binoculars and turning his head toward her, “this is our investigation. After all, we are still married... Mrs. Slade.”

  JESSE SLADE HAD NEVER wanted to throttle his wife until now. They’d had many arguments during the six months they’d been married which frustrated him to no end, but tonight she was just... careless. Hadn’t he taught her better than that? After all, he’d been a Pinkerton Agent for four years, and it had been up to him to train his partner – once they had gotten married, of course.

  Hope’s surprised gasp ripped through the air. It was a good thing the rider had reached the cabin by now or their train robber would have heard her.

  “Jesse Slade?”

  He quickly put his hand over her mouth again, shaking his head to think she’d forgotten most of her training already. They’d been separated for nearly four weeks, so how could she have forgotten so quickly?

  “Would you lower your voice,” Jesse whispered gruffly. “I don’t know how well Frank’s hearing is.”

  “Frank?”

  Her voice rose again, but with his hand over her mouth, he muffled the sound. “Yes, Frank Hinchee, our train robber.”

  She yanked the binoculars out of his hands and held them up to her eyes. The darkness was growing thicker by the second, but the moon was full, so Jesse suspected she could see a pretty good outline of Frank. Her breathing increased as she scooted ahead of him a few inches.

  Jesse grinned. Although she was one stubborn woman, she could also be as cute as a button. On rare occasions, she’d laugh at something – or he’d made her laugh at him. She had the prettiest brown eyes that sparkled whenever she was excited or playful. Those same pair of eyes could also turn dark whenever she was upset. Either time, he recalled how her breathing increased. Was it mean of him to find that trait in her entertaining?

  “Jesse? How did you know? Where did you find him – or me?”

  Chuckling softly, he pulled the binoculars away from her face until she looked at him. “Hope, I’m honestly shocked that you don’t already know those answers.”

  She scowled. “I cannot read your mind, so you’re going to have to explain it to me.”

  He sighed and nodded. By now, he realized how Hope hated to be proven wrong. It was easier for her to realize it first than to have him tell her.

  “Hope, how did you first find out about Frank Hinchee?” he wondered.

  “I asked Archie Gordon for a new case, of course.” She shrugged. “Isn’t that how we are supposed to get new cases?”

  Jesse didn’t approve of her snarky tone of voice, but he’d let it slide this time. “Of course, it is. But tell me how you asked for it.”

  She huffed. “Are you kidding me? Why do you need to know—”

  “Hope,” he said in a warning voice, “just answer the question.”

  “Fine. I told Archie Gordon that we were ready for another...”

  When she stopped talking, Jesse knew she’d figured it out. At least he hoped she had. He waited for a few awkward moments before her sigh of defeat blew from her mouth.

  “Am I to guess that you talked to Archie sometime in the past four weeks?” she asked.

  Slowly, Jesse nodded but didn’t say anything.

  “And am I to assume that you didn’t tell him that I had wanted an annulment?”

  Jesse snorted and rolled his eyes. “Since you had talked to Archie before me, why hadn’t you told him you didn’t want to be my wife any longer?”

  She massaged her forehead. Her lips were pinched tightly. He heard her breathing with great effort in and out of her nostrils.

  “I didn’t say anything,” she replied, “because I knew he wouldn’t give me a case by myself.”

  Jesse kept from grinning in victory, because really, he shouldn’t be in a joyous mood. It didn’t matter that he’d proven her wrong. She still wanted an annulment... an annulment he wasn’t ready to give her.

  Not now.

  Not ever.

  TWO

  Hope gnashed her teeth as she stared toward the cabin. She wasn’t using the binoculars now, and although she could see the cabin clearly enough, her mind wasn’t focused on that, or on Frank Hinchee. The startling realization that Jesse was back in her life left her mind numb, as well as her tongue.

  She didn’t need to ask Jesse how he’d found her. It was obvious. He was a really good agent, and because of that, he’d know where to look. He would remember what disguises she had used when she had to hide her identity while talking to people and picking up leads. He knew she would be hiding somewhere near the cabin where Kate and Robert Hinchee lived, because even if she couldn’t read Jesse’s mind, he seemed to be able to read hers. Especially when it came to their cases.

  “Now you know why I’m here, correct?” he asked in a voice as smooth as silk.

  “Fine,” she snapped, “so, I’ll let you team with me on this case, but—” she moved her face closer to his and stared into his shadowed eyes that she knew were the color of a blue sky on a clear day, “this is the last one. Once we catch Frank Hinchee and arrest him, I want you to tell Archie Gordon how clever I am and how I tracked our train robber all by myself.” She lifted her chin stubbornly. “I want Archie to believe that I’m capable of being an agent without a partner.”

  “My dear wife,” Jesse’s hand moved to her face and his fingers stroked her cheek, “I believe you can tell him that much more eloquently than I.”

  “Are you patronizing me?”

  “Of course not, Hope. I meant every word with all my heart.”

  Growling, she pushed his hand away. She sat up and searched for her pistol that she carried in her saddlebag that was on the ground somewhere around here. “Well, Mr. Slade, let’s catch us a train robber and get this over with.”

  He grasped her arm, stopping her. She scowled, even though she doubted he could see her face. “Are you addled? Why don’t you want me getting my gun?”

  “Let’s give the man time to eat and visit with his family first. Then we can arrest him as he’s leaving.”

  “His wife has a Derringer hiding in the waist of her skirt,” she told him.

  “I noticed that earlier.”

  “I won’t go down there without a weapon.”

  He nodded. “And that’s a smart thing to decide. Remember to always be prepared.”

  Grrrr... How long had Jesse been watching her? Sometimes he made her so mad, she... she... could spit! However, her irritation simmered slightly realizing that Jesse had actually thought of Frank being with his family and needing to eat. It was hard to think of outlaws as people, but Jesse always had. Jesse was also a thinker. He didn’t just act on his impulses. He thought about them first and then acted.

  That was one thing she wished she could do.

  “Fine. We can wait a few minutes.” She sighed heavily and sat back on the ground, stretched her legs in front of her as she crossed one over the other.

  Jesse chuckled and tapped her leg lightly. “I’m glad you decided to wear pants instead of your skirt this time. It’s good to know you learned from your mistakes.”

  The memory popped into her mind and a smile tugged on her lips. It was their first case. They were chasing a horse thief. Jesse had left their hotel room and asked her to meet him behind the
stables. Wanting to impress the Pinkerton agent and show him what she knew, she had dressed in her best skirt and blouse. She even wore a matching bonnet. When he saw her, he didn’t say anything, but he bit his lip and looked as though he was desperately trying not to laugh. At first, she didn’t know why he was acting that way, but as they moved slowly through the muck-filled stable, soil clung to her skirt, weighing it down. It was then when she realized her mistake. The subject hadn’t been brought up for another month, and then when Jesse had mentioned it, they had laughed.

  “Yes, I definitely learned my lesson.” She smiled, but not fully.

  Silence passed between them as she watched the cabin. Jesse had taken control over the binoculars, and she let him this time. Mainly, because she was tired of arguing. But that seemed to be their relationship since the first day they met and they were pronounced husband and wife by Archie Gordon, Allan Pinkerton’s right-hand man.

  Hope didn’t know what it was about Jesse that irritated her so. He was handsome and even quite charming at times. But, she had married him with reservations. She’d wanted to be a Pinkerton agent, and unfortunately, that meant marrying her trainer.

  When she’d first heard about agents marrying women just to train them, she was against it. However, a few months later, she’d learned that her fiancé, Jonathan Sorensen, had been killed in battle. He was a naval officer, and his unit had sailed to Korea to force their hand for trade agreements. After hearing of his death, she mourned for several months before realizing there wasn’t anything stopping her now from marrying a Pinkerton agent just to get training. She liked the fact that it would be in name only. Her heart still belonged to her deceased fiancé, Jonathan.

  “What have you been doing this past month?” Jesse asked softly.

  She jerked out of her thoughts and turned to look at his shadowed face. No longer were the binoculars to his eyes, and he was facing her.

  “Well, after leaving you,” she began, “and after obtaining a new case, I’ve been doing nothing but finding trails and following up on leads.” She paused before asking, “What have you been up to?”