An Agent for Marianne (The Pinkerton Matchmaker Book 49) Read online

  An Agent for Marianne

  The Pinkerton Matchmaker #49

  Christine Sterling

  Story line contribution by

  Cheryl Austin

  An Agent for Marianne

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are all products of the author's imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblances to persons, organizations, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.

  The book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. All rights are reserved with the exceptions of quotes used in reviews. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage system without express written permission from the author.

  Scriptures quoted from the King James Holy Bible.

  All books titled or quoted in this story belong to their respective authors.

  An Agent for Marianne ©2019 Christine Sterling

  Cover Design by Virginia McKevitt

  Editing by Carolyn Leggo

  Proofreading by George Weitemeyer and Amy Petrowich

  Table of Contents

  License Note

  Get Free Books

  Dedication

  Acknowledgements

  Author’s Note

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

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  License Note

  This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This 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 recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  -- Christine Sterling

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  Dedication

  When I put out a contest asking for ideas for upcoming stories, I was blown away by the response. There was one story that stood out from all the others, and that was the idea that Cheryl Austin provided.

  Cheryl, this story is for you based on the brain dump of ideas you and I discussed. I appreciate your friendship and love.

  Acknowledgements

  Always Jesus.

  My hubby, Dan.

  My three gorgeous daughters, Rebecca, Nora & Elizabeth.

  My editors and dear friends, Carolyn and Amy.

  My dear friends George and Margaret who helped me tighten up the story.

  To the readers who keep buying my books and sending me notes saying how much they mean to you; thank you from the bottom of my heart.

  I couldn’t be on this journey without the contribution each one of you make to my life. I love you all.

  Author’s Note

  Before Colorado became a territory in 1861 there were no functioning court systems and justice was carried out by the public.

  However, once the area became a territory, a justice system was set up for the county; but trials and punishment were meted out by a few individuals. There was no police force, or policemen. That didn’t happen until 1874.

  So, between 1861 to 1874, justice was carried out by an organization called the Vigilance Committee, also known as the Law and Order League. These individuals took matters into their own hands.

  You may have seen this in Western television shows where someone is tried on the spot and executed by hanging. Normally these weren’t fair trials, but more based on emotion.

  The committee consisted of a judge; and a group of local men that would arrest and try offenders. Once a decision was made, it was final, and punishment was dealt harshly and swiftly.

  Although archaic, this system managed to keep law and order in the territory until the police chief was appointed in 1874.

  Prologue

  Late September 1871

  Chicago, IL Pinkerton HQ

  Marianne folded the telegram and placed it in her pocket. She wiped her eyes with the back of her hands and took a deep breath. A miracle had surely occurred.

  The youngest of the Chapman siblings, Alice, had been found safe. That didn’t mean she wasn’t unharmed, however. Alice was now recovering at their parent’s home in Great Plains, Nebraska.

  There weren’t many details in the telegram, and Marianne didn’t think that many would be forthcoming. Alice was completely tight-lipped about her experience at the hands of a vicious cult-like church in San Francisco.

  When Marianne received the initial telegram about Alice being kidnapped, she read the printed tape repeatedly, looking for a hidden meaning between the words Archie had sent. She was relieved when she found out that Archie had assigned agent Angus Hightower to the case. The Pinkerton agent had a way of getting information out of people. Normally it involved using his fists.

  Marianne wasn’t a fan of violence, but in this case, she was happy that the fighter was on the trail. Taking another deep breath, she turned her attention to the stack of files on her desk. Taking one of the folders, she started to scan the case reports of recent cases the Pinkertons were involved in.

  Things were different in Chicago.

  She had recently come to the headquarters office under the guise of helping Allan Pinkerton after he had a stroke. Marianne had the skills to keep the office organized and running under the direction of Allan’s son.

  However, it appeared that the younger Mr. Pinkerton was not fond of the Female Detective Bureau and Marianne was concerned what might happen if Allan didn’t recover.

  But coming to Chicago was simply a ruse. She could have trained someone to do the job in a matter of a few days. Instead, she was sitting behind a large oak desk, shuffling papers and trying to forget the reason she left Denver in the first place.

  It was no use.

  She took a deep breath and slid her fingers into her pocket. They wrapped around the small photograph she carried everywhere with her.

  She pulled it out looking at the man staring back at her. He didn't have a smile on his face, but his eyes held some sort of expression, a cross between trying to be serious and laughing at having his photograph taken.

  She hadn’t seen him laugh in a long time. Mostly he just barked. Marianne ran her fingers over the creases in the paper, trying to smooth them out. Normally she would have kept the picture pressed between the pages of a book, but instead she wanted to keep him as close as possible.

  It was a picture her dear friend, Victoria, had given to her right after Victoria had married her agent partner, Mav. Marianne hesitantly took the picture of Victoria’s brother, proclaiming that she shouldn’t take it, but Marianne was secretly thrilled that
her friend trusted her with such a valuable personal item.

  Archibald Gordon, or Archie for short.

  Maybe she should consider pressing it back in the pages of a book. Then she wouldn’t be looking at it, tormenting herself.

  Marianne looked up when she heard footsteps approaching her. It was one of the Chicago agents and he looked at her with a big grin on his face. Marianne slid the photo back in her pocket and patted it before smiling back at the young agent.

  Connor Boyle was certainly handsome enough and was just around her age; but her heart belonged to another.

  “Connor,” Marianne said, lifting a file from the pile in front of her. “I was just about to go through your report.”

  “Good news, Marianne,” he said, placing a hip against the desk and leaning down towards her. “I have a few days free, so I thought I’d take you around the city if you wanted to see all the delights Chicago has to offer.”

  “Uhm-mmm,” Marianne stammered. “I don’t know. I really should stay here and see how I can help with the office.”

  Connor looked around. “It looks better than it ever has been. You’ve organized all the files, and caught up on the case reports.” He looked back to Marianne and smiled. “Is there anything you can’t do?”

  I can’t make someone fall in love with me, Marianne thought. She quickly dismissed Archie from her mind. Perhaps going out on the town with Connor would be a nice diversion. She realized he was still talking, and she missed what he said. “Can you repeat that?”

  “I said, it wouldn’t be just me. There are several of the agents going out for dinner and the theater tonight.” He gave Marianne a wink. “You know, safety in numbers.” Marianne hesitated. “Esme and Janet will be going, so you won’t be the only lady there.” Esme Carter and Janet Trepal were members of the Pinkerton Female Detective Bureau.

  “Really,” Marianne asked. “I thought Esme was leaving for Denver?”

  “She leaves tomorrow, so think of this as us sending her off in style.”

  “Hmmm….,” Marianne responded. She liked the young agent who was being sent on assignment to Denver to follow up on a missing persons case involving one of the agency’s detectives.

  Connor nodded, giving her a sad face, before bursting out laughing. “Really, Miss Chapman. You will be in good company.”

  “Well, if it is a group, how can I resist?” Marianne laughed. “I’ll be the safest girl in all of Chicago. What time were you thinking?”

  Connor pulled out his pocket watch and looked at the time. “How about I come fetch you at six o’clock this evening?” Marianne gave a quick nod and picked up the next report on the pile. Connor gave a wave and Marianne could hear his heavy footsteps head out into the foyer.

  The sound of murmurs reached her ears, but she couldn’t focus on the words being spoken. Sighing, she put her hand back in her pocket and fingered the worn lithograph.

  Marianne shook her head to try to clear the memories. She rolled her shoulders to alleviate some of the tension and started flipping through the papers as she made notes in the margins.

  It would do no good to dwell on the past and her broken heart. How did she ever get herself in this predicament?

  As she closed the folder to pick up the next one, she wondered if Archie would easily forget about her, as she struggled to forget about him?

  Chapter 1

  August 1864, Denver, Co

  Marianne had no intention of staying in Denver alone. She had no intention of returning home either. Therein lay the quandary.

  It had been over a week since Michael had been gunned down in a saloon. It was supposed to be an easy four hundred dollars. More than enough to make repairs on the ranch where Marianne lived with her five brothers and two sisters.

  Now, it was just four brothers. Michael’s body had surely arrived home and been buried by now. It was that blasted Duke Richards’ fault. If he hadn’t been stealing cattle from the neighboring ranches back home in Great Plains, Michael would still be alive.

  The Chapman brothers wouldn’t have split up trying to find the cattle thief. Marianne wouldn’t have been standing outside the saloon waiting for Michael when he tracked down Duke Richards and confronted him.

  Marianne would never forget hearing the gunfire from behind the swinging doors for as long as she lived.

  In the family, there were five brothers. Twins Owen and Oliver were the oldest followed by Caleb, Michael, and Everett. Then came the sisters. Marianne, Penelope and baby Alice.

  As much as she missed her family, she knew that she was called for something bigger. Not that her mother didn’t have a good life as a housewife; it wasn’t for Marianne. She didn’t envision a husband or children in her future.

  Husbands were for other girls… like Penelope. Penny was her twin sister. They may look identical, but they were as different as could be. Penny was more scholarly and learning the skills that would lead to marriage. She had suitors lining up; however, they would quickly run away when they saw how protective their brothers were over her.

  Marianne didn’t have that problem. The brothers weren’t as protective about her. In fact, it was as if she was the sixth brother, instead of a little sister. That suited Marianne just fine.

  Now she wanted a life of adventure!

  She was walking back to the small dormitory where she and Michael had rented a room. Her rent was paid through the end of the month, so she had a week to figure out where to go to next.

  She walked through the park and then turned the corner towards the large Victorian style mansion that had been empty for months. She stopped as she saw several wagons in front of the house, filled with wooden crates.

  When they first arrived in Denver, Marianne noticed the house with its gothic exterior. It reminded Marianne of the old churches she had seen in picture books.

  The house had a steeply pitched roof, gables and a large tower against the side farthest from the door. There were five pillars holding up a large roof that extended well past the edge of the sizeable wrap-around porch. There were large windows in front. One was flat, the other was three windows that projected outwards from the home. Beneath the porch railing the flowers were drooping from neglect.

  Marianne told Michael that she wanted to live in a house like that someday. It was grand and opulent. Marianne imagined that the inside must look like a museum. Michael laughed and ruffled her hair.

  “You can do anything you set your mind to, Marianne,” he said affectionately.

  Even though she knew it was just a dream, she would walk by the house every chance she had. She would stare wistfully at the wooden for sale sign hanging from the lamp at the end of the walk.

  It didn’t look as if a family was moving in, as there were way too many uniform crates about the size of a milk bin, stacked on the porch and wagon bed. There was a large wooden desk in the middle of the yard and paintings leaned up against the porch railings.

  Marianne proceeded closer. Four men were carrying the boxes into the house and then returning to get more.

  Then she saw him.

  He was standing on the porch wearing dark pants with a black vest and white shirt. He had a black tie at his throat. There was a gold chain going from the button on his vest and disappearing into a pocket.

  The sun reflected off his red hair. Marianne had never seen anything that color before. Her hair was red, but it was more of an auburn. This man had hair the color of carrots.

  He had a beard that was shaved very close to his chin and he scratched it until he caught sight of Marianne at the end of the walkway. His mouth curved into a smile, and then promptly disappeared again, a scowl taking its place.

  “We need to get moving if we are going to get all these boxes inside,” he barked to the men returning for the next load.

  “Perhaps if you helped, it would go quicker,” Marianne called to him.

  The man stepped off the porch and walked towards her, stopping just before stepping into the street, where Ma
rianne was standing. She felt her breath hitch. He was at least a good head taller than her. She wasn’t petite, so this man was well over six feet.

  “What did you say?”

  Marianne looked at the wagons still piled high with boxes. “I said, perhaps if you helped these men, then the job would get done that much quicker.”

  “They are getting paid to put all those boxes inside.”

  “Are they being paid by the box or the hour?”

  “What business is that of yours, young lady?”

  Marianne shrugged. “Not any. I just hate seeing anyone being taken advantage of.”

  “What do you mean?” The man glared at the workers.

  “If they are paid by the box, then they want to do it as quickly as possible and get out of here. If they are paid by the hour, then they are going to drag it out as long as they can.”

  The man looked from Marianne back to the workers that were lingering as they shuffled the boxes around in the wagon. His eyes returned to Marianne. Without blinking he yelled, “Angus!”

  Marianne jumped, as another man appeared from inside the house. The man leapt down the porch steps in one jump and ran over to where they were standing.

  The man called Angus had deep red hair as well. He sported a full beard, that was trimmed from the middle, displaying a dimpled chin. He wore a bowler-style hat and was also dressed in a suit. His hands were a mass of cuts and bruises, as if he had been fighting.

  Marianne wondered what the story was with these two.

  “Could you bellow any louder, Archie?” Angus said to him. “They heard you all the way back in Chicago.”

  Archie cleared his throat. “Help out those men bringing in the boxes.” Angus lifted his eyebrows in surprise. “And get more of the men to help.”

  “You might want to get those hands looked at.”

  “Excuse me?”

  Marianne boldly lifted one of his hands and turned it slightly back and forth. “These scrapes are going to get infected if you don’t clean them properly. Even though they are scabbing over, you can see the infection around the edges.” She gently ran her finger over one of the scabs. Angus hissed and tried to pull his hand away from her. “See, the scab is moving slightly. You’ll want to allow the infection underneath to drain.”