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  An Agent for Pearl

  The Pinkerton Matchmaker #58

  Christine Sterling

  Table of Contents

  License Note

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  An Agent for Pearl

  Acknowledgements

  Author’s Note

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Epilogue

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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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  An Agent for Pearl

  A quiet woman with no desire to become an agent; an agent with no intention of ever having a partner, and the case that cooks up surprises.

  Pearl Bolton has enough on her plate, she doesn’t want to add anything else. She loves her job as a cook for the Pinkerton’s Denver office. At night she rushes home to help take care of her invalid father. The last thing she needs is a husband, no matter how temporary. What she didn't count on was a case that involved her two passions: baking and Pinkerton Agent Zeke Preston.

  Zeke Preston has a crush on the shy cook, and he has the extra ten pounds to prove it! He wishes he could get her to open up to him, but Pearl doesn’t appear to need anyone or anything. Every time Zeke comes around, it’s as though Pearl avoids him. He knows exactly what to do to get her attention. Someone has sabotaged a national baking competition and he needs her to help solve the case. The fact he must marry her is just a bonus!

  Does Pearl assist Zeke in finding the saboteur? When Pearl is the victim of a crime, will Zeke be able to protect her and solve the case? Will their marriage end at the case’s conclusion, or will they bake up something new together?

  Acknowledgements

  Always Jesus.

  My hubby, Dan.

  My three gorgeous daughters, Rebecca, Nora & Elizabeth.

  My editors and dear friends, Carolyn and Amy.

  Thank you, Rose Hale, for providing feedback on a very rough draft.

  All my beta and ARC readers, there are too many to list!

  To the Pinkerton Matchmaker readers whose loyalty to the series makes my heart sing. You are amazing for supporting what was a crazy idea and has become a series with such a huge following.

  Author’s Note

  Pearl Bolton is an incredible character in the Pinkerton Matchmaker world. She is always there – feeding the agents or making a pot of tea for Marianne. When I realized her story was begging to be told, I had to come up with something that needed her unique skill set. Enter the Denver Dinner Challenge of 1872.

  Culinary or baking contests didn’t really come into existence until after 1873. It was a way for local unmarried ladies to showcase their talents and (perhaps) catch a husband.

  So, in true author fashion, I warped time a bit and moved the contest to start in the summer of this story.

  The contest is loosely based on the following article that appeared in a local newspaper announcing the winners of a culinary competition in October 1873. (Image source: Grandma Jam):

  Encouraging the Culinary Art.

  At a recent fair held in Rome, George, a novel feature was introduced in the shape of a cooking contest among the young ladies of that and neighboring towns. The purpose was to decide which of the number could produce the best dinner from a given quantity of meats and vegetables and the gastronomic strife was encouraged by an award of prizes for the best and second best dinners, another for general proficiency, and a fourth for excellence. The test was by taste and appearance, and the judges, after sampling the viands of each particular miss, gave to Miss Hettie J. Johnson the first prize, which was a cooking stove; to Miss Octavia Shropshire, the second prize, another cooking stove; to Miss E.J. Shropshire $10 for general proficiency, and to Miss Alice Camp, of the mature age of 12, $20 for excellence.

  Chapter 1

  June 1872

  Pinkerton Office, Denver, CO

  Finally! She had a moment to herself.

  Granted it wouldn’t last too long, as the Pinkerton Agents that were in town would be arriving for dinner soon.

  Pearl Bolton opened the oven to check on the cake that was baking. She tapped the tops and watched as the cake sprang back into place. She pulled out the tins and placed them on the counter to cool. She would frost them tomorrow to serve after dinner the following night.

  She slid two apple pies into the oven and closed the door. Looking around the kitchen she gave a little smile as she wiped her hands on her apron. The kitchen wasn’t large, but it was large enough for Pearl to cook in.

  There was a huge window overlooking the garden in the back, and a door leading out towards the carriage house which had been converted to the men’s dormitory. Two large plots had been plowed in the ground, where Pearl had her garden.

  She grew much of the fresh food that was used in her cooking, but meat and dairy she purchased from a farmer who made deliveries to the office twice a week. She had asked Mr. Gordon about getting a few goats for the back yard, but he put his foot down that he wasn’t going to have livestock anywhere near the office. Pearl’s garden was concession enough.

  She wondered how the agents in other offices ate. Did they have to fend for themselves or eat in restaurants, which would get very expensive. One item that Pearl couldn’t keep around long enough were eggs. The agents ate them almost every morning, and Pearl needed them to bake her delicious treats.

  She might need to mention something to Marianne about it. Marianne Gordon was her dearest friend and the woman who hired her to work at the agency. She had left to go to the Chicago office right before the great fire. Pearl knew it was to avoid seeing Mr. Gordon. Marianne had been in love with their employer for years. It wasn’t until she left, that Mr. Gordon realized how deep his love ran. Marianne returned when Bronco Wauneka, one of the original agents in the office went to fetch her.

  Unfortunately, she only returned because Mr. Gordon had been shot while trying to find his friend, the judge. Pearl felt responsible, and in a way she was.

  She had witnessed Judge Hotchkiss being attacked and kidnapped, but was too afraid to say anything, as the Boggs gang threatened her family. After Mr. Gordon was shot, she knew she had to say something to escape her emotional prison.

  Fortunately, Mr. Gordon recovered and married Marianne in a private ceremony in the front of the Pinkerton office. Pearl, however, had yet to recover from the trauma. Even though Mr. Gordon had given her a raise and hired a nurse to provide around the clock care for Mr. Bolton, Pearl hated feeling indebted to anyone.

  Shaking her head to dismiss the negative thoughts she gave a glance to the watch pinned to h
er apron. Her chicken stew would be ready in about an hour. The dishes were already done, to make clean up after dinner easier. All she needed to do was set the table, put the rice on to boil, then serve up the supper.

  She grabbed a basket of fresh bread and walked to the dining room, placing the basket next to a butter bell. She moved to the hutch where the dishes were stored. Counting out seven plates she proceeded to set the table.

  The table could seat up to sixteen agents when Pearl used all the leaves to expanded it to its full capacity. Normally, she had the oval table ready for ten people at the most: Most evenings included the Gordons, Jacqueline, and any other agents that might be in the house. Marianne insisted Pearl join them at every meal and eat before she headed home. Today there were three agents: Thomas, Connor and Zeke.

  She put the plates on the table and arranged a smaller plate on top. She hummed to herself as she folded linen napkins and placed one on each plate. On top of the plate and linen tower, she laid a fork, a knife and a soup spoon. Once she had added glasses to the place settings, she returned to the kitchen and looked at her watch once more.

  She had already added the rice and water to a Dutch oven, so she moved it over the heat. It would take about thirty minutes. Since she had a little bit of time, she would make herself a cup of coffee and take a quick break.

  She poured a cup of coffee and walked over to the small bistro table that sat in the corner of the office. She placed her cup down and took a seat, turning her chair to look out the window.

  The trees were filled with blossoms and everything had turned green from the spring rains. Summertime was Pearl’s favorite season. The days were longer, the weather warmer and she relished the bit of time she could spend outdoors.

  She watched as the birds pecked the ground looking for a treat. It would be nice if she could be watching chickens do the same. Pearl longed for a house in the countryside. Where she could have a garden, and animals and where she was only cooking for one man, instead of many.

  She knew it wouldn’t happen. First, there was no one that would be interested enough to court or marry her, plus she had to help with her father in the evenings. James Bolton was injured by a ruthless gang when he worked as a vigilance officer for Judge Hotchkiss. When her father finally came home from the hospital, Pearl’s life changed forever.

  She was the dutiful daughter that made providing for her family a priority. She didn’t have a brother, so the task fell to her. She was blessed when she met Marianne at the grocers and was offered a job, on a trial basis, to cook for a group of rowdy men.

  That was over three years ago.

  She watched as a figure emerged from the dormitory and walked towards the Victorian house. Her breath caught a bit as she recognized Zeke Preston, one of the newer agents. Pearl considered anyone who had been with the Denver agency one of the new agents, no matter how long they had been at one of the other offices.

  She didn’t know exactly how old he was, but she estimated somewhere around thirty.

  He was very handsome. His dark hair was a little too long and she watched as the breeze ruffled it while he was walking. He wore a white shirt, no tie and tan pants. He must not be going anywhere, as most of the agents wore coats and ties, unless they were undercover.

  She hadn’t had much interaction with the lawman. Even though he escorted her from her home to the office every day while the Pinkertons were trying to find Judge Hotchkiss, Pearl didn’t engage in conversation.

  Partially because she was afraid of sharing something that might endanger her father’s life, and partially because she didn’t want Zeke to think she was silly. She didn’t have much book learning and she knew that he was a well-educated man.

  Pearl felt her palms start to perspire when he spied her looking out the window. He gave her a grin as he approached the door to the kitchen.

  She tried to make as though she was going to the cook stove, but her bottom remained firmly planted in the chair. She placed her cup on the marble tabletop before wiping her hands on her apron.

  She couldn’t see him because he disappeared when he opened the door. Pearl bolted from her chair and headed towards the stove. She took two steps and ran into the hard expanse of Zeke’s firm chest.

  He tossed the paper aside and grabbed her by both arms. “Sorry, darlin’,” he said, stopping her from falling. “I thought you saw me.”

  His voice had a twang. Pearl knew he was from Texas and he was on loan to the agency from the Rangers. But that was all she knew of the young investigator. If she didn’t get to know him, then she wouldn’t run the risk of being heartbroken when he left to return to Texas.

  “I – I – I did,” she stammered. “I just thought I had more time to check on dinner before you came in.”

  “Dinner?” he asked. “What are you making?” Pearl didn’t reply. She couldn’t. The words were there, they just weren’t coming out of her mouth. She couldn’t concentrate on anything, but the warmth from Zeke’s fingers as they curled around her arm. “Pearl?” he asked again, releasing the grip on her arms.

  Why did he have to have the most delicious brown eyes that reminded her of a chocolate cake? She shook her head slightly, banishing the cobwebs. “What?”

  Zeke’s cheeks lifted in a saucy grin. “I asked what we were having for dinner?”

  Pearl stepped away and turned her back as she walked over to the cook stove. She lifted the lid allowing the aroma of chicken and curry spices to fill the air. “Country Captain Chicken.” She placed the lid back on to allow the mixture to continue stewing.

  “I can’t wait.”

  Pearl titled her head and looked at him, offering him a slight grin. “I hope you enjoy it. It is Claudette’s recipe.” Claudette was Bronco’s wife and one of the first female agents in the Denver office. She was no longer an agent as she was expecting her first child.

  Zeke moved closer, taking her hand. “I enjoy everything you make,” he said in a low voice.

  Pearl gave a little gasp. She looked down to see his thumb rub the back of her hand. Before she could respond, the sound of footsteps thudded against the wooden floors. Mr. Gordon. She recognized the sound of his stride.

  She quickly pulled her hand back and turned towards the stove, her skirt catching around her legs, causing her to wobble slightly. She felt Zeke’s hands grab her waist.

  “Th-th-thank you,” she whispered and shook her skirt out.”

  “Preston?” Archie Gordon called as he entered the kitchen. He glanced to Zeke, whose hands were still on Pearl’s waist, to Pearl who quickly diverted her attention back to the stove. “Everything alright?” he asked in his Scottish brogue.

  Pearl felt Zeke immediately release her. She felt the loss immensely.

  “Everything’s fine. Pearl just stepped too quickly, and I didn’t want her to fall.”

  Archie stared for another minute and then shook his shoulders. “I came for a cup of coffee, but since you are here, I would like to talk to you about an upcoming case.”

  Zeke gave Pearl a quick wink. She stiffened and turned back to her stewing chicken. “You hear that, Pearl? He wants to talk to me about an upcoming case.”

  Pearl nodded. She knew that the young agent had been trying to work solo on a case. She also knew that if he were assigned to a female detective as a partner, he would need to marry his partner before they traveled anywhere to solve the case.

  The thought of Zeke marrying someone filled her with a dread that she couldn’t explain. It wasn’t as if she was going to marry him… or anyone. Just the thought of him with someone made her emotions bubble to the surface.

  “Let me get you a cup of coffee, Mr. Gordon,” she said, going to the cupboard to get a mug. “Would you like a cup?” she asked Zeke.

  “Thank you, Pearl. I would.”

  Pearl filled two cups and handed them to the agents. Zeke brushed his fingers along hers as he took the cup from her hand. He gave her another wink before following Archie out of the kitchen.
>
  She heard Marianne’s voice in the hallway, greeting the two detectives. Pearl pulled another cup from the cupboard and filled it with the hot brew. She placed it on the table just as Marianne was walking in.

  Her friend was radiant. Since Marianne had married Archie, it was as if a weight had been removed from her shoulders. “How was the market?” Pearl asked, leaning down to check on the pies in the oven.

  “Busy,” Marianne said, placing a basket on the small table. She pulled off her gloves one finger at a time and laid them on the table next to the basket. “I was able to purchase two yards of lace, and that was about all. I couldn’t move with all those people.” Pearl nodded her understanding. It was one of the reasons she didn’t go to the weekday market anymore. Although there were many good deals to find, Pearl didn’t like crowds.

  It wasn’t so much the number of people, but the way they looked at her. Pearl knew she was different. She didn’t have the coloring that many of her friends had. Her skin was pale, and when she blushed it wasn’t with the rosy glow of other women – instead it looked like two apples had been dropped on her cheeks.

  Her hair was the lightest of blondes, not quite white, but the color of pale straw. She wore it in a single braid down her back.

  Everything about Pearl was light. Even her eyelashes were pale. She had no freckles, no skin spots, nothing apart from pale skin that burned when she spent more than a few minutes in the sun. The ghost, some folks called her due to her light coloring. Pearl simply shrugged it off, instead, choosing to pretend how little the words stung.

  “What were you looking for?” Pearl asked, checking the rice. It was done, so she used her apron to pull the iron pot from the burner. She reached above the stove and pulled down the bowl for the rice and a covered bowl for the chicken.

  “Nothing in particular,” Marianne said absently. “Who left the paper?”

  Pearl turned to see Marianne sit at the small table and pick up the cup of coffee. She dropped in a spot of milk before sipping the hot brew.