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An Agent for Lydia: Pinkerton Matchmakers, #43
An Agent for Lydia: Pinkerton Matchmakers, #43
An Agent for Lydia: Pinkerton Matchmakers, #43
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An Agent for Lydia: Pinkerton Matchmakers, #43

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When Lydia Wood is left at the altar, she believes something beyond her groom's control has happened. Two years with no word have hardened her heart. She has to get away from her parents' constant urging her to choose an acceptable husband and wed. Becoming a Pinkerton agent suits her plans.

 

Pinkerton Agent Jake Hunter has recovered from injuries that put him in a coma and a long convalescence. He realizes Lydia would have been injured had she been with him. He vows to distance himself from the one person who means the world to him to protect her. 

 

When they are paired for an investigation of bank robbers they must follow the trail to a dangerous hang out of men on the run. Can the two successfully pull off their charade and capture the robbers or will this trip confirm Jake's worst fears?

LanguageEnglish
Release dateFeb 1, 2024
ISBN9798223075301
An Agent for Lydia: Pinkerton Matchmakers, #43

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    Book preview

    An Agent for Lydia - Caroline Clemmons

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    Topeka, Kansas, 1870

    Standing in the foyer of his fiancée’s home, Jake Hunter embraced Lydia Wood. I owe your cousin a debt I can never repay. If he hadn’t introduced us, I’d never have found the perfect woman.

    Nestling her head against his chest, she sighed. Kit told me you resisted meeting me. I’ll admit I was against him meddling in my life. I only agreed because he’s been like a dear brother and has never steered me wrong.

    She leaned back to meet his gaze and grinned at him. That doesn’t mean he didn’t get me in trouble with my parents. They were certain I was going to be branded a hoyden and unsuitable for polite society. They viewed my shooting and knife throwing abilities as scandalous.

    He tucked a strand of golden hair behind her ear. I’m afraid they fear my influence has caused the same problem.

    Her expression softened. You mustn’t worry about what they think or say. They’d prefer I be a puppet to some wealthy man. Trust me—that wouldn’t have happened even if I’d never met you. Oh, Jake, that’s too terrible to contemplate.

    He gazed at her beautiful face and hazel eyes. His admiration was not just for her appearance, but her intellect, the feisty attitude she showed. Face it, he admired everything about her.

    He pulled her near, wishing he could keep her beside him forever. Yes, it is. I can’t imagine life without you.

    Thank goodness, tomorrow we’ll be together forever no matter what anyone says or does.

    He kissed her tenderly. I’m counting the minutes, my love. His mouth close to her ear, he admitted, I long to hold you close all night.

    She clutched his lapels. I hate the thought of your leaving. Hold me longer now, Jake.

    He took her hands in his and held her a foot from him. I don’t dare or I’ll lose all self control. You have no idea how beautiful and desirable a woman you are. I’d better leave or your father will be striding in here demanding it.

    She followed him to the door. Until tomorrow at two. Then, only your blasted Pinkerton Agency can part us.

    And, only temporarily and for limited times, my love. He pressed his signet ring into her hand. I leave you with this, my only family treasure. Next to you, this ring is the most cherished thing in my life.

    She gazed at the ring then up at him with a tiny frown. But, we’ll be wed tomorrow.

    He couldn’t explain why this urge had come over him, but he sensed it was important. I know it’s strange but please humor me. This is something I want you to have until our first son is grown. Then, you can pass it to him.

    A smile lit her face. What a lovely thought.

    One final kiss to her soft lips left him dreaming of his future. He strode from her home to his lodgings with a spring in his step. Tomorrow at this time he’d be married to the woman of his dreams.

    He contemplated the life they’d share. They’d live in Denver in a home large enough for the children he hoped they’d have. With three weeks of his leave from Pinkerton’s still remaining, he and Lydia had time to reach Denver and find a home before his next case. He was one lucky man.

    When he was near the doorway of his hotel, two men stepped from the shadows, each carrying a round club of wood at least an inch in diameter and two feet long. The Upton brothers.

    Of all times to be waylaid by these two, this was the worst. Jake had left his gun in his room. Lydia’s father had forbidden him from bringing it into their home.

    Even in the dim light from a store window, hate practically shot from Virgil’s narrowed eyes. Remember us, Hunter?

    Willis grinned. We’re gonna pay you back for arrestin’ our brother. He’s rottin’ in jail because of you.

    Virgil balanced the wooden bar in his hands. Too bad your little golden-haired lady friend isn’t with you.

    A cold chill cloaked Jake’s heart. How did these men know about Lydia? Were they going to accost her?

    He tried to evade the men and slip around them but they forced him into an alley. All I did was my job and uphold the law. Surely you can see that Otto was the cause of his arrest, not me.

    Willis braced the baton and shifted his weight. Don’t give me that self-righteous act. You coulda let him go. You got no cause to stick your nose in our family’s business.

    When your business is stealing, I do have because it’s my job. He tried a bold bluff. You two are under arrest as well.

    Let’s see you make that arrest stick. Virgil swung his truncheon.

    Jake blocked the blow with his arm. A loud crack preceded his gasp and pain radiated from his forearm. He didn’t need a doctor to tell him the arm was broken.

    He recovered enough to rush Virgil but a blow from the back reminded him Willis was eager to get in his share of hits. Jake dropped to his knees and tried to stand. Repeated strikes left him at their mercy—or lack of it. He was aware of each of the kicks, bashes, and thumps they dealt before merciful oblivion claimed him.

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    Lydia waited in the bride’s room of the large church her family attended. Two hundred guests sat in the pews. Her maid of honor, three bridesmaids, and two flower girls fluttered around her. The organist played a medley of appropriate songs.

    Her father entered. Well, where is he? Where is this wonderful man you insisted on marrying?

    Lydia fought tears. I don’t know. He wouldn’t be late without a very good reason. Have you asked the best man? Surely the cousin who’d introduced them would know.

    I have but Kit has no idea either. Your groom-to-be didn’t return to his lodgings last night.

    Lydia battled against her building fear. Oh, no. Something bad has happened. Find one of the Pinkerton agents and ask them.

    The timbre of her father’s voice indicated barely-controlled anger, I can’t locate any of them. Perhaps they’ve all gone to the same place. I know where I wish to send one of them.

    Papa, I know Jake wouldn’t desert me. He’s a man of honor in spite of your opinion of him.

    Kit came into the room. I can’t figure what’s happened to him, Lydia. He wouldn’t be late if he could move a muscle. He’s so in love with you he talked about nothing but spending the rest of his life making you happy.

    Lips trembling, she looked at her cousin. Something terrible has happened.

    Kit said, I have to agree but don’t panic. I’ll go check the hospitals and alert the police.

    Kit departed but she and her father paced for another half hour. Rumblings of conversation grew from the sanctuary. Her flower girls lost interest and their mothers reclaimed them.

    Her father gripped her shoulders. Face it, Lydia, the cad isn’t coming. I’ll make an announcement. Who knows how long it will take for this disaster to die down. Meanwhile, the guests might as well attend the dinner since we’ve paid for a fortune for all that food you ordered from the caterer.

    Of course, her father was more concerned with the cost and social opinion of the guests than with what tragedy had happened to Jake. She pulled herself as straight as possible and raised her chin. I’ll make the explanation.

    Facing the crowd was the most difficult thing she’d ever done. She stood at the back of the church where she was scheduled to enter to the bridal music. Signaling to the organist, silence reigned.

    With as much grace as she could muster, she said, Ladies and gentlemen, dear friends, thank you for coming. I’m afraid the groom has been unavoidably detained. There will be no wedding today. Please accept my family’s invitation to the dinner as scheduled.

    Somehow she managed a smile before she retreated to the bride’s room and dissolved into tears. Soon her mother was there, leading her to the carriage and home.

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    After alerting the police, Kit began his search of hospitals in the city for someone matching Jake’s description. At the first one, he was told of a man who’d been found stripped of his outer clothes and left in an alley.

    A nurse led him to the man’s bed. Could this be the person you seek? He’s in a coma, which is probably best for now. We’d like to know who he is so his family can be notified.

    Kit studied the person lying still as death. Bandages covered the man’s head and most of his face. Not even the color of his hair was visible. A splint held the man’s right arm in place. Poor fellow.

    Well, I guess he’s the about the right height, but I can’t tell anything about his features. My friend has dark hair and blue eyes. Women think he’s handsome. How long will this person be bound like this?

    We’re not sure. He was so badly beaten I doubt you’d be able to tell anything about him even without the bandages. We don’t know when or if he’ll come out of the coma—so many blows to his head, you see. Do you know of any identifying marks or tattoos your friend has?

    He has a scar about here. He touched his face beside his ear.

    She shook her head. I can’t tell because of the bandages and swelling. I’ve never seen anyone as badly beaten as this poor fellow. How he’s clung to life is a miracle.

    Any laundry marks in whatever clothes he wore?

    They’d been cut out. Whoever beat him didn’t want anyone to know his identity. Such a vicious thing to do.

    I’ll check back if I don’t find my friend. How long will it be before the bandages come off?

    Another week and most will be removed. We hope he’ll wake before then and tell us his name and who’s responsible for his condition.

    Thank you for talking with me. Kit left to inquire at the next hospital. He prayed his friend was alive and not lying dead in some alley. Jake was an accomplished Pinkerton agent and must be a good fighter and a good shot with his pistol. With a sense of dread, Kit recalled that Uncle Frank had forbidden Jake to bring a gun into his home. Poor Jake had been unarmed when he met whatever fate had dealt him.

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    A week later. . .

    Jake woke slowly. Pounding in his head made concentration difficult. Where was he? He opened one eye then the other. Fighting to focus, he realized he was in a hospital.

    His right arm was splinted. With his left hand he touched where a bandage bound his head. Every inch of his body ached like a sonofagun. His mouth was like a mix of dust and cotton.

    Slowly the confrontation with the Upton brothers returned.

    Lydia! What day was this? How long had he been here?

    Before he yelled for attention, a gray-haired doctor appeared. Well, young man. I’m certainly glad to see you awake. You had us worried. He poured a glass of water and held it for Jake.

    Gratefully, he drank. How long have I been here?

    Whoa, not too much water at first. The doctor set the glass on the bedside table. You’ve been with us a week. Please tell me your name so we can contact your family.

    Jake pushed aside the cover. A week? I have to get out of here.

    When he tried to sit up, nothing happened. Panic rose to clog his throat. His legs refused to move. Fear locked his chest in a vise. Breath came in labored gasps.

    What’s wrong with me?

    You were beaten so badly we weren’t certain you’d come out of the coma, son. Clothes stripped and all identification taken. We haven’t known who you are or who to contact.

    He’d already heard that. Why couldn’t the

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