An Agent for Frances Page 5

  Vincent ambled to the gun wall and brought down a rifle. “What do you think happened to Walter Shipp? Mrs. Shumway makes it sound worse than it is, I’m sure.”

  Frances’ mind quickly returned to what had happened to her earlier today. “He’s not missing. I know exactly where he’s hiding.”

  “Hiding?” Vincent turned toward her, arching an eyebrow. “You believe he’s hiding?”

  “I’m quite sure that’s what he’s doing because my foolish brother has Walter hiding at my house.”

  Vincent took long strides until he stood in front of her. Once again, she had to tilt her head back to look into his handsome face.

  “Shipp has been at your house all this time?”

  She shrugged. “Well, if you mean since the blast, I’d have to say yes. He has cuts and burns on his body, and I overheard him talking to my brother about something going wrong. Apparently, the explosion was planned, but it went off too early.”

  Vincent rubbed his stubbled chin. “Interesting.”

  “And those wagons in the back were some kind of diversion, and I’m sure they helped transport something away from the bank.”

  He blew out an exasperated sigh and raked his fingers through his hair. “This definitely keeps getting more complicated as the days go by. But one thing is for sure, Shipp and his men want another civil war, and I’ll make sure they won’t get one, even if I have to do it singlehandedly.”

  She hesitated for a second before touching his arm. “But Vincent. You won’t have to do it singlehandedly. Not anymore. I’m your partner now, and I’ll help you.”

  Cupping the side of her face, he smiled. “Indeed, you are. So, what do you say about going riding with me bright and early tomorrow morning?”

  Excitement pumped through her. “How early?”

  “Just before sunrise.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “We are going to track down some lost wagons.”

  She wasn’t sure which made her happier – tracking down the wagons or being with Vincent. Hopefully, he’d see how he hadn’t made a mistake in taking her on as a partner. She’d do anything to bring back the spark that had been inside of him while they kissed. As long as she could keep him thinking about it, he might actually look forward to their wedding.

  She could only hope.

  SEVEN

  VINCENT WAS READY TO send Frances back home to change. He was appalled at the woman wearing men’s jeans and a man’s shirt and vest. He supposed the clothes belonged to her brother, but that wasn’t the point. She was too alluring wearing clothes that snugged up against her womanly curves – bringing more attention to her than he wanted right now. She was a hindrance to his job while wearing these clothes, and now he wondered if he would be able to focus at all.

  Probably not.

  Although she wore a cowboy hat, she had braided her long auburn hair and it brushed her back as she rode. Her cheeks were red due to the excitement shining in her eyes. She rode her horse astride, and he grumbled under his breath that she wasn’t acting more like a woman. And yet, he liked seeing her ride in rhythm with her steed. He also liked that she kept up with him.

  They’d met an hour before sunrise, and blast it all if he couldn’t stop thinking about the last time they were up before sunrise. Had it really only been yesterday morning since he’d experienced her passionate kiss for the first time? And then like a fool, he had allowed his emotions to overrule his mind and kiss her again last night in his office... and enjoyed every second of it. Except, of course, when they were interrupted.

  He’d spent most of the night trying to figure out how to stop their wedding. He didn’t want to get married again – not until he could find the outlaw who’d killed his lovely Jessica and their unborn child. But it had been four years ago and his chances for finding the murderer were very slim.

  The sun’s light had barely peeked in the horizon, making it easier to follow the wagon trails in the dirt. He couldn’t stop looking her way, and she glanced back at him quite often, as well.

  “Frances? Have you had a chance to eavesdrop on Shipp and your brother?”

  She met his gaze from over her shoulder. “I did when I realized they were in my house yesterday, but when I took dinner to Walter last night, Jeremy wasn’t there, and of course, Walter isn’t going to say anything to me about what he’s doing.”

  “What did you overhear last night?”

  “Walter was irate because something had gone wrong. He told Jeremy to find a man named Jenkins. The only man in town that I know with that name is Tom Jenkins.”

  Vince nodded. “I know Tom Jenkins, but why did Shipp want him?”

  “Because he was in charge of the detonator for the explosives.”

  “And Shipp wanted to see him to find out what really happened.”

  “That’s what I thought, too.” She smiled.

  “Was there anything else you’d overheard?”

  “Walter was upset because he didn’t think his men were following his orders. Walter mentioned something about having only one leader.” She shrugged. “Because apparently, something happened four years ago when one of his men had an itchy trigger finger and they were nearly caught and hanged for their crimes.”

  Vince frowned. “What happened four years ago?”

  “I couldn’t hear everything Walter said, but apparently one of his men went to the wrong house and killed the wrong woman.”

  Vince’s thoughts screeched to a halt. Four years... Killed the wrong woman... A pain in his forehead began to throb, and his gut twisted. “Did Shipp say where this had happened?”

  “No.”

  His mind tried to piece everything together. “Frances? Has Walter Shipp always lived in Bonham?”

  She was quiet for a few moments before she shook her head. “If I remember correctly, Ma had mentioned that he lived in Colorado before coming to Texas.”

  His lungs stopped working and he couldn’t breathe. A pain had gripped his throat, too. His mind grew blank, and he couldn’t think of anything except the day he’d come home from tracking down a gunslinger, only to find Jessica lying on the floor with her head resting in a pool of her own blood. All it took was one bullet... The doctor figured she’d been dead for several hours.

  Vince had been stunned, not believing his wife was dead, and when it finally sank in his heart, he’d cried like no man should have to cry. He physically hurt for days, even months afterwards. Wanting revenge and justice hadn’t healed his heart. But now... he finally had a lead, and yet all he wanted to do was strangle the bank owner, or torture him, or make him suffer the way Vince had suffered for four years.

  “Vincent, talk to me. You’re scaring me.”

  As his mind finally returned to the present, he realized he had dismounted and was walking around. Frances held his hands, looking at him with a panicked expression. He stopped and breathed, trying not to let his anger guide him directly to Walter Shipp.

  “Forgive me,” he said. “My mind had wandered.”

  Frances shook her head. “It was more than that, Vincent. You had a faraway look in your eyes. You had dismounted before your horse had even stopped completely.”

  “I’m sorry that I worried you, but I’m fine now.”

  He tried to move past her, but she stepped in front of him, blocking him, giving him a stern look.

  “You’re not going anywhere until you explain to me what just happened.”

  For a moment, it was rather nice to have a woman wanting to take care of him and to comfort him. Since Jessica’s death, he’d tried to convince himself that he would never allow another woman into his heart. For four long years, he’d went through life living by his own rules and not caring about anyone but himself.

  He sighed. “Frances, I have reason to believe the lady Walter Shipp’s man with the itchy trigger finger had killed... was my dead wife.”

  Frances gasped and dropped her hands to her sides. Her face paled slightly. “You really think so?
”

  Vince nodded. “I was living in Colorado when I was married to Jessica, and when she was shot in the head. That was four years ago. I’ve been searching for her killer all this time.”

  She slapped a hand to her mouth. Her eyes widened. “Oh, Vincent.” She stepped closer and placed her hand on his chest. “That’s just too coincidental to ignore. You must look into this further.”

  He placed his hand over hers on his chest. “I intend too, but right now, I must focus on the case we’re working on now.”

  “Then we’ll pray that catching one outlaw will lead us to the other. And I’ll help you any way you require my assistance.”

  Vince didn’t know if it was the sun coming up over the rise that made Frances’ face so lovely, but he’d never seen her as pretty as right now. Of course, different emotions were twisting his heart into a knot, which wasn’t helping matters. But her brown eyes sparkled, and he became entrapped within their beauty.

  He lifted her hand and brought it to his mouth to brush a tender kiss across her knuckles. “My dear Frances, I appreciate your thoughtfulness. You don’t know what that does to my heart.”

  Her dreamy gaze darkened as it dropped to his mouth. She leaned against him and smiled.

  “Vincent,” she whispered huskily. “I’ll do anything for you.”

  His heart jumped inside his chest. His first urge was to take her in his arms and kiss her with all the desire building up inside him, but he resisted the urge. Now was not the time. They had a case to solve.

  He kissed her knuckles one last time before pulling back and releasing her hand. “Then let’s follow these wagon tracks. I’m in the mood to catch me a killer.”

  Disappointment shone on her face as she nodded. “Yes, let’s do that.”

  He helped her mount her horse before climbing on his horse. Thankfully, there had been no wind or rain since yesterday’s explosion, which made the wagon tracks easier to follow.

  They rode in silence for a good ten minutes as they followed the tracks leading them out of town. He tried to pull his thoughts away from the revenge consuming him. After all, he’d been after Jessica’s killer for four years. Vincent had gone on with his life, living from day to day, making the best out of what God had given him. He must continue to do this. He didn’t want to chase Frances away – or any of his friends, for that matter.

  “Frances?”

  Her head whipped around as she looked his way. “Yes?”

  “You never told me why you want to be a Pinkerton agent so badly. Has something happened in your life to make you want to spy on people?” He grinned.

  Her eyes widened and her face paled. Her throat jumped in what appeared to be a hard swallow.

  “Well... actually, yes.”

  He slowed his horse a little until they were riding side-by-side. “Go on,” he encouraged.

  “I’ll tell you, but please don’t judge me.”

  Now he was even more curious. “I won’t.”

  Her gaze moved to the trail ahead of them. “My father had been severely injured, which left him with a permanent limp. He’d been the town’s barber; haircuts, shaving – that sort of thing. Ma had made cookies or cakes and sold them to the men who were their patrons. But when he couldn’t stand on his feet for very long without being in so much pain, we began to lose money.”

  Vince nodded, but didn’t interrupt her.

  “When I was twelve, I’d been helping Ma in the kitchen and she’d sent me outside to fetch some water. Two men who were waiting to get a haircut, stood near our barn talking. I overheard them talking about a kidnapping. Apparently, one of them was in love with a girl, but she would have nothing to do with him, and so the man had planned to kidnap her so that she’d have to marry him.” She glanced at Vince before looking back at the road. “I was appalled, and hurried back inside and told my mother. She told me to hurry to the sheriff’s office and let him know.”

  She shrugged and sighed before looking at him again, this time, keeping her gaze on him. “Long story short, the sheriff liked that I was being a spy and informing him of crimes before they happened. He told me that he’d pay me money if I’d be his ears and eyes around town.” She cleared her throat. “I did that until I was seventeen years old, which helped to keep food on the table and a roof over our heads since Pa wasn’t making much money. It wasn’t until I’d been caught, and the bandit threatened to shoot me when my parents realized I shouldn’t be doing that for the sheriff. Not much longer after that was when I was hired on as Claudia’s maid, which was where I worked when we met.”

  Vince had been so engrossed in her story that he wasn’t watching the road. Thankfully, his horse didn’t veer off the road too far. Vince pulled the reins, leading the horse back on the trail they were following.

  “What an amazing life you had.” He shook his head.

  “There were times that I sneaked into people’s houses to look around while they were gone, and many other times when I had to pick a lock of a door that had been barred against intruders. It was just all part of the job.”

  “Did you learn how to shoot a rifle or pistol?”

  “No, but...” She bit her bottom lip as her cheeks turned red.

  “But what?”

  “I’m pretty good with a knife.”

  The more he learned about this petite woman, the more she amazed him. “You don’t say...” He grinned. “Well, I’m sure that will come in handy one day.”

  “I’d love it if you taught me how to shoot.”

  He nodded. “That sounds good. Let’s see what we can find out about where these tracks lead first, and then I’ll show you.”

  “Or...” She pulled her horse to a stop. “What if you take some time now to show me? If we stumble upon the wagons and try to talk to those who were involved, what if they are hostile? I’d think you would need someone else to hold a gun, right?”

  It was hard to admit aloud, but Frances was definitely one who thought ahead and had good ideas. That was another thing he liked about her.

  “You’re right.” He scanned the field and found a place to do some target practicing. “Let’s go over there.”

  As he led the way, he couldn’t believe how enthusiastic he was with this undertaking. But he knew she’d be an eager student... just as she’d been when they’d kissed.

  Silently, he growled. While he taught her how to shoot, he must not think about that steamy kiss!

  EIGHT

  FRANCES LISTENED INTENTLY to everything Vincent told her about handling a gun. He’d given her the revolver to learn on since a rifle had more kick when shot and the force would probably throw her to the ground. He had set up a target using sticks and leaves, and he showed her how to take aim toward the target. It didn’t matter what he had said – he could be telling her how to clean out an outhouse and she’d still think it was the most amazing thing she’d ever learned. His voice was as smooth as silk, and the baritone sound made her quiver. When she did something wrong and they laughed about it, his green eyes twinkled, making her heart pitter-patter faster.

  He motioned toward the target. “All right. Give it a try now, and let’s see what you can do.”

  She held the gun the way he’d shown her with her left hand bracketing her right hand that held the revolver. She nibbled on her lower lip, concentrating on the target through a narrowed gaze.

  “Wait,” he said, touching her arm. “You’re standing wrong.”

  She lowered the gun and looked at him.

  “Make sure your legs are apart like this.” He demonstrated.

  She shifted her feet, getting in the stance. “Like this?”

  “Yes.”

  She gave him a nod before lifting her arms and aiming at the target.

  “Wait.” He shook his head. “It’s still not right.”

  He moved behind her, practically pressing his frame against hers. Immediately, warmth filled her, making her more comfortable. He ran the palms of his hands along her arms until he h
eld her hands in the position that she needed to shoot. He rested the side of his head against hers, and as he spoke, she could smell the berries he’d eaten for breakfast.

  His voice seemed deeper this time when he explained how to hold the gun and how to stand. Although she heard him, she wasn’t paying attention to his words as much as she was the way he made her body come alive.

  With his cheek next to hers, it was tempting to lean against him... or turn her head toward his since his mouth was that close. But she resisted. She must learn what he had to teach. But kissing him would be even better.

  “Do you understand?” he asked softly.

  “Uh-huh,” she answered, not really knowing what he’d just said. Instead, it was his uneven breaths that she concentrated on, and the way his body seemed to move closer against hers. The heat from his body seemed hotter as the seconds passed by. In return, her breaths increased as anticipation pumped through her. Her arms felt like jelly, and her legs weakened, and yet she knew he’d keep her from melting to the ground.

  Her mind finally realized there was silence between them. Was he waiting for her to shoot now? And yet, he was rubbing his cheek against her in an oh, so subtle way. The rhythm of her heartbeat sped faster. His arms still holding her up weren’t as stiff as before.

  Her mouth grew dry, and a knot formed in her throat. She prayed he felt the same sensations as she was experiencing right now.

  She heard nothing around her, not their horses or the trickling of the nearby spring splashing against the rocks. No sounds came from the birds in the trees. She heard nothing – but his heavy breaths and his rapidly beating heart.

  How many seconds passed without exchanging words, she didn’t know. Closing her eyes, she enjoyed the emotions melting her heart, and sharing this tender moment with him. Temptation grew stronger and she wanted to kiss him. She wouldn’t break this spell that had somehow enclosed around them both until there was a kiss involved.