An Agent for Annie Read online

  Copyright

  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.

  The Pinkerton Matchmaker

  ©2019 Lynn Donovan

  Cover Design by Virginia McKevitt

  Editing by Cyndi Rule

  Table of Contents

  Copyright

  Appreciation

  Dedication

  Newsletter and Free Gift

  Preface

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  About the Author

  Personal Note from the Author

  Please Review

  Appreciation

  Thank you to everybody in my life who has contributed in one way or another to the writing of this book. My husband, my children, my children-in-law, and my grandchildren. You all are my unconditional fans. Thank you to my BETA readers and grammar guru who make me look gooder than I am. [Bad grammar intended.]

  To my fellow author friends who chat with me daily to exchange ideas, encourage, maintain sanity, you keep me from being a total recluse/hermit.

  Mostly I thank God for the talent he has given me. I hope to hear you say, “Well done, my good and faithful servant,” when I cross the Jordan and run into your arms—Many, many years from now. :).

  Dedication

  To George H. McVey, without whom I would not have what I have or know what I know. Thank you, dear friend.

  Newsletter and Free Gift

  I’d like you to be the first to know about a new book release by me or other authors that I can recommend. E-mail me at [email protected] and tell me you’d like to subscribe to my Newsletter. I promise, I’ll NEVER spam you or give your information out for any reason!

  As a reward, I will send you a free book called “Stories for the Porch.” A collection of short stories written by me just for you and will be published NO WHERE else.

  

  Preface

  Annie Kate Hinkley has always dreamed of being a Pinkerton Agent. Only problem is, growing up with her grandma, she never learned to shoot, ride a horse, or fight. But she did learn to read. And she read everything she could get her hands on about Kate Warne, the first female Pinkerton Agent.

  Bruno Thomas has been a Pinkerton Agent for over a year. He’s the youngest detective in the company, but the biggest, strongest man in the state of Colorado. Built like a solid brick house, he left a life of bare-fisted boxing to join Archie Gordon’s extension office in Denver, Colorado, and doesn’t ever want to go back.

  In order to solve a murder, he must accept an undercover assignment that puts him back in the boxing ring. He’s also required to marry a spitfire, overzealous recruit who idolizes Kate Warne. Can these two find a common ground in their differences in order to discover true love? Or will Annie Kate and Bruno run headlong to the judge for an annulment as soon as they solve this murder mystery?

  CHAPTER ONE

  “Oh, Mr. President, there’s no need to thank me for saving your life.” Annie Kate backed into a thick oak branch and ducked under it, her hand trailing coyly along the time-smoothed bark. This forbidden suitor was so brash, so forward. She could not let him too close, imaginary though he might be. She touched her mother’s mother-of-pearl comb and lowered her eyes. “I was just doing my job as a Pinkerton Agent—“

  She snapped her gaze back to her imaginary admirer. “What?” She clasped her hands against the yoke ruffle of her dress grandma had sewn just for her.

  “Why, yes, today is my birthday.” Her eyelashes fluttered the way she had seen Emma Sue Gates do toward Cletus James in the schoolyard. “Noooo. I can’t call you Abe, sir. You’ll always be President Lincoln to me.”

  “Annie Kate!” Her grandmother bellowed across the Nebraska prairie. “Time fer suppah!”

  “Coming, Grandma!” She called out even though she knew Grandma Hinkley couldn’t hear her from this far away. Gathering handfuls of her skirt she ran— high stepped, actually— through the knee-high grasses and around large oak trees. Grandma Hinkley always fixed something special for supper on her birthday. She couldn’t wait to taste what she’d made today.

  Raymond had ridden into town earlier, so maybe he bought some lemon drops from the mercantile, or a new dime novel, and if it were about Kate Warne, the first female Pinkerton detective, even better! Seconded only by Momma, Kate Warne was the woman Annie would most like to emulate someday. That thought made her knees rise higher and her feet run faster. This was a special birthday. The most special. Today was Annie’s first day as a spinster old maid.

  Yesterday she was still seventeen.

  Tomorrow— she dodged a low-hanging hornet’s nest— she needed to go into town and find a job that would support her as a single adult woman. Contrary to Grandma Hinkley’s big plans, Annie had no intention of ever marrying. Being a Pinkerton Agent was not the sort of thing a married woman could do.

  Leaping onto the porch, she slid to a halt and pulled off her boots. If Annie dirtied up Grandma’s painstakingly scrubbed hardwood floors, she’d be forced to re-scrub them herself before she was allowed to go to bed— birthday or not. She hurried into the house in her cotton socks.

  “Wash up!” Grandma Hinkley called from her bedroom. Annie glanced toward her voice. The older woman rose to her feet. She had been on her knees in front of a small traveling trunk in which she kept her treasures. Annie resisted rolling her eyes. That blue-ribbon quilt Grandma had been saving for Annie’s wedding laid neatly folded on top of the trunk. She’d heard about it half her life.

  Now that Annie was officially the age of a spinster, maybe Grandma Hinkley would give up on that idea and give the quilt to her as a birthday present. It was a lovely quilt. Annie could appreciate why it won first place at the County Fair ten years ago.

  A delightful aroma wafted into Annie’s awareness. She inhaled. “Mmm!” Dinner rolls, fried honey glazed ham, and sweet taters.

  “Something sure smells good, Grandma Hinkley!” She had to holler even though they were only one room apart, otherwise Grandma Hinkley wouldn’t hear a word said.

  “Made it special for our birthday girl!” Grandma’s sweet, albeit loud voice made Annie smile. She poured water into the wash bowl near the front door and dipped her fingertips in to splash the cool water on her face, then scrubbed the dirt from her hands with a washcloth grandma had crocheted out of soft wool. She turned just as Grandma crossed the living room on her way to the kitchen without the bundle. Annie sighed. Perhaps she was moving the quilt to the cedar lined chest so moths wouldn’t ruin it. Grandma Hinkley entered the kitchen.

  Suddenly, the front screen slammed behind Raymond. Annie jerked with the loud bang and turned to greet the old farm hand. He backed out onto the porch, eased into a rocker to pull off his boots and lined them up with Annie’s on the porch. He didn’t want to have to scrub the floor before bed either.
Birthday or not.

  Even though the man had worked for the Hinkley’s as long as Annie could remember, he slept in the tack room in the barn. Nearly every year, he saved his first-prize winnings from the fair for raising the largest and heaviest hog in the county and put the money toward building a small cabin down by the creek. Annie wondered if he would ever actually live there or just be buried next to it.

  Even when Grandpa was alive, Raymond ate with the family, just like he was kin. Grandma let him eat with her and Annie even now, and expected him to respect her house by leaving his dirty boots on the porch. He grimaced as he pushed himself up from the wooden chair and came in. His smile added a twinkle in his dark gray eyes when he spotted Annie. He yanked his hat from his head as if he’d forgotten to do so. “Happy Birthday, Miss Annie Kate.”

  “Thank you, Raymond." She rocked up on her toes with anticipation. "You get me anything from town?”

  “Can’t say I did, Miss Annie Kate.” He dipped a red rag into the water and washed the sweat from his neck and face. “All I got from town was a Walnut Valley Times Newspaper.” He reached into a large pocket on the side of his overalls and pulled out the folded paper. A book lay in the fold. He looked at it with feigned surprise and confusion. “Now, how’d that get in there?” He slid the small book away from the newspaper. “I don’t suppose you’d be interested in this silly dime novel, now would you?”

  Annie squealed. “Oh! Let me see!”

  He held out the book.

  She looked at the title. “True Tales of Kate Warne and other Pinkerton Detective stories, By M. P. Porter.”

  “Thank you, thank you, Raymond!” She snatched the book and slid it into her waistband behind her back. Grandma Hinkley didn’t allow reading during supper, birthday or not.

  “Ya’ll better get in yer, ‘fore this birthday suppah gets cold!” Grandma fussed.

  “We’re coming!” Annie and Raymond said with a mutual smile.

  Raymond stopped abruptly. “Oh.” He spoke softly as he dug into another pocket and pulled out a white paper bag. “You wouldn’t be interested in these sour candies neither, would you?”

  “Lemon drops!” She squealed quietly. “Thank you!” She snatched the bag from his meaty hand and rose on tiptoes to kiss his rough, unshaven cheek. “You’re too good to me.”

  He smiled and rubbed his cheek as she dashed into the kitchen.

  “I believe it’s your turn, Raymond.” Grandma Hinkley said as he eased into a chair.

  “Yes’m.” Raymond reached out in both directions and took Annie and Grandma Hinkley’s hands. They bowed their heads. “Dear Lord, we thank ye this day for our daily bread…”

  Annie listened patiently, but had to swallow three times. The smell of Grandma’s fried honey-smothered ham slices with dark gravy from the drippings, and golden yeasty rolls made her mouth water so. She smiled when he thanked the Lord for another year on earth for Miss Annie Kate and said, “Amen.”

  Annie and Grandma repeated with a mumbled, “Ah-men.”

  Grandma Hinkley pursed her lips. “Very nice, Raymond. Could you pass the sweet taters?”

  The dishes rotated around the small table until everyone’s plate was heaping. Napkins were properly placed in laps, and they each ate slowly to savor every morsel. Annie moaned over the tasty bites. Thanking her grandma for the delicious meal. Birthdays were the best when Grandma Hinkley cooked.

  A small two-egg cake followed the meal. Each piece smothered with fresh sliced peaches that Grandma had soaked in sugar all day for a delightful syrupy desert topped with fresh whipped cream.

  Annie and Raymond sat back from the table, pleased as pie and full as a tick. Grandma Hinkley smiled as she lifted her plate, then Annie’s. Raymond leapt to his feet. “I’ll help ya, Mrs. Hinkley.”

  “You most certainly will not!” She stacked his plate on Annie’s and took all three to the washboard. “You sit back and enjoy your pipe. Annie, read us the news, while I wersh these dishes.”

  “Yes ma’am.” Snickering at Raymond, she opened the paper. Her eyes swept the headlines, then she read each cover-page story and moved on into the Society News. Grandma carefully washed and stacked the dishes, then she dried each one and put them back in the cupboard.

  Finally, Annie ran her eyes down the Editorial Page and quieted. She couldn’t believe what she had read. She read it again and gasped, leaping backward in her chair.

  Grandma started. “Lordy, child, you scared me half ta— what do you see?”

  Annie stared at the advert. “Grandma, you’re not gonna believe this!” She folded the paper to make it less cumbersome and read the ad.

  “Help Wanted: female agents to join the National Pinkerton Detective Agency.

  “Seven years ago, the National Pinkerton Detective Agency moved into the new office location at 427 Chain Bridge Road, Denver, Colorado Territory. Since then stories have circulated of brave men solving crimes and fighting for justice. But a new time has evolved, and the agency is now seeking able-bodied WOMEN—”

  Annie emphasized the word, then looked up to see if they understood what she had said. She continued in a louder voice, exaggerating certain points in what she was reading,

  “to join the ranks of private investigators. We need daring women who seek adventure and are of sound mind and body. You will help the criminal elements answer for their crimes and secure safety for their victims. You will train with an existing agent, and after your first case, you will earn the rank of private detective.”

  Annie lowered her voice, but of course continued at a level she knew Grandma could hear,

  “Paid training, transportation, uniforms, and accommodations will be provided. You will become a part of a noble profession and pave the way into the future. This editorial has been placed in newspapers throughout the nation, so the quickest responses are appreciated. Please send inquiries and a list of skills to Mr. A. Gordon at the above noted address. Interviews will occur on the premises in the Denver office.”

  Annie, looked up from the paper, her jaw completely limp, her eyes wide with disbelief. She pulled her mouth closed and swallowed hard. “Grandma! ... I’ve gotta go to Denver!”

  CHAPTER TWO

  “Welp… I… we—” Katheryn Hinkley stammered. Her eyes darted from her granddaughter to Raymond and back to Annie. “We’ll just have to talk about it, Annie Kate. I-I don’t know.” She touched a wild wisp of grey hair that always tickled her eyebrow and shoved it back in with the rest. “You go on to your room now. Um, happy birthday, hon. I know you want to read that new dime novel Raymond bought you.” Again, she shoved the relentless wisp of hair into the rest. “I-I’ll have to pray about this.”

  Annie stared at her, motionless. Katheryn felt the heat from her granddaughter’s glare. “Yes ma’am. Thank you for my birthday dinner.”

  Slowly Annie stood, glanced at Raymond, who mercifully kept his opinion and eyes down, and walked out of the kitchen. Katheryn’s heart ached. She’d give anything to make her granddaughter’s dreams come true.

  “You’re welcome, Honey.” Katheryn turned back to the washboard and stared out the window facing the chicken pen. She couldn’t see anything with the dark new moon but that wasn’t why she stared so hard. She was searching for an answer. Annie Kate had never minced words about what she wanted out of life. Somehow Katheryn had to do this— for her granddaughter, for her son. Katheryn had promised Ronny she’d take good care of his carefree daughter when he died of pneumonia not more than six months after his wife died from consumption. She always suspected it was more his broken heart that took him to be with the Lord, rather than the wet lungs.

  That child shouldn’t have to face another disappointment. She was too smart, too full of life, to not get a chance to fulfill her one life’s dream. But how to get her to Denver?

  And what if they didn’t accept her? What if Annie really wasn’t cut out to be a Pinkerton Agent?

  Katheryn turned to find Raymond still sitting at the table,
encircled in a wreath of smoke from his pipe. She had nearly forgotten he was there. “What do I do?”

  Raymond jerked his face up to meet hers. He had been deep in thought, too. “I’m not sure. Ain’t no guarantee—”

  “—she’ll get accepted.” Katheryn finished his thought. “I know. But how can I not—” tears choked the rest of her words.

  “I suppose… I could, uh, sell that… pig I been fattening up for the fair.” Raymond rubbed the back of his neck.

  “Oh, Raymond, that blue ribbon prize is for you to finish that cabin. I know how much Sylvie dreamed of having a home and a passel of children running around. You’ve worked on that cabin nigh on twenty years. I know it’s more of a memorial to her than for you to live in… but—” Katheryn smiled a sad smile toward Raymond.

  He stood slowly and stretched his back, long and thoughtful. “Well, it’s really just something to keep me outta trouble. You know, ‘idle hands are the devil’s tool.’ ’Sides, Sylvie’s got her own mansion with Jesus. She’s probably fixin’ it up real nice for when I join her. She don’t need nothin’ from me down yer on earth.”

  He turned back to Katheryn with a shrug. “That pig’ll bring enough to get Annie most of the way to Denver. He’s still small, but he ought to fetch enough. She’s gonna need spending money, food, and lodging. What if she needs to come back home? I’d hate for her to get stuck in a big city with nothin’—” He pushed out his bottom lip, it was a common gesture for him when he was thinking something over. Katheryn couldn’t help but smile a little.

  “Maybe I’ll go in ta town tomorrow and check on train prices. Maybe they gots sumthin’ we don’t know ‘bout.”

  Katheryn wiped a tear with the hem of her apron and pressed it down against her skirt. She crossed her hands in front of the apron. “You’re a good man, Raymond Sallee.”