An Agent for Cynthia: Pinkerton Matchmakers, #54

By Amelia C. Adams

Cynthia Baxter has always wanted to be a detective, and she's read enough mystery novels to be sure she's perfect for the task. She applies at the Denver office of the Pinkerton Detective Agency and is told she'll be contacted, but she doesn't hear from Agent Archibald Gordon until she's quite sure they've forgotten all about her.  When she is finally summoned, she's ready to go, willing to do her part.

 

Agent Corbin Rawlings has devoted his life to his job at the Pinkerton agency, and marrying a new female agent so he can protect her on their case seems like just another part of the assignment. Until he meets her, that is, and realizes that she's not only going to be a useful partner, but a very desirable wife. Things become more complex than they first imagined, though, when they learn that their current case ties into a mystery Corbin was never able to solve, and that their lives are in greater danger than they ever supposed.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Barr26 Publishing, LLC
• Release date: Mar 5, 2024
• ISBN: 9798223913900

Book preview

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1873

Denver, Colorado

Cynthia Baxter stood on the platform at the station, looking back and forth anxiously. The train was scheduled to depart in fifteen minutes, but her intended groom was nowhere to be seen. She supposed they could take the next train, but Archibald Gordon, head of the Pinkerton Detective Agency’s Denver office, had been very clear that he wanted them to be on their way immediately. If they missed this one, it would be hours until the next, and that just wouldn’t do. Keeping her promises was very important to her.

Another few minutes went by, and her heart was thumping so rapidly, it hurt. Where was he? What was holding him up? He was going to ruin everything, and Agent Gordon would never assign her to another case. Being a Pinkerton was all she’d ever wanted, and now her chance was going to be spoiled because of this man who didn’t know how to tell time.

This man . . . She didn’t even know his name or what he looked like. She only knew that she was right where she was supposed to be, and he . . . well, he wasn’t.

Miss Baxter?

She turned to see two men approaching, one young and one definitely not young. Yes?

I’m sorry we’re late, the younger one said. He set his bag down on the platform and took a deep breath. I’m Corbin Rawlings, and this is Judge Hotchkiss. He’s agreed to marry us before we board.

I hope you can talk fast, Judge, Cynthia replied, and the man chuckled.

Oh, don’t you worry about that, Miss Baxter. I once married a young woman who was in a delicate way and wanted the ceremony finished before the . . . er . . . blessed event. I’m no stranger to weddings on the run. He chuckled. Cynthia assumed she’d find it amusing later, but at the moment, she did not.

The train whistle blew, and the conductor called out, Five minutes! Five minutes to board!

Cynthia turned back to the judge, hoping to spur things on. Shall we?

Yes, we shall. He rummaged through his pockets and pulled out a small black book. Now, let’s see. Corbin Rawlings and Cynthia Bateman . . .

Baxter, she interrupted.

Hmm?

Baxter. Cynthia Baxter.

He blinked. Oh, yes. That’s right. Corbin Rawlings and Cynthia Baxter.

Cynthia glanced at Mr. Rawlings, wondering why he was doing nothing to hurry this up. Surely he didn’t want to miss this train. If he did, that didn’t speak well for his work ethic, and she didn’t think she could be partnered with someone who didn’t believe as strongly as she did about the importance of staying on top of things.

Thankfully, the judge began the ceremony, flagging down two passersby to be the witnesses. They thought it was a tremendous amount of fun that two lovebirds wanted to tie the knot there on the train platform. Cynthia gave them a tight-lipped smile, not wanting to shatter their illusions.

As soon as the judge pronounced them man and wife, Cynthia and Mr. Rawlings scooped up their bags and ran for the train. Cynthia called Thank you! over her shoulder and hoped she would be heard over the sound of the hissing steam coming from the engine. They clambered on board, the conductor giving them a disapproving look even though he was smiling.

Just couldn’t wait to marry her, eh, son? he said knowingly. Go ahead and take your seats, and I’ll stow your bags.

Thank you, Cynthia told him, handing him her larger satchel, but keeping her reticule. Mr. Rawlings handed over his bag as well, and they moved down the aisle. They had just barely sat down when the train began to move.

Well, now. That was certainly a wedding to remember. Mr. Rawlings gave her a smile, and she looked at him—really looked at him—for the first time. All she’d noticed on the platform was his height, which was around six feet. Now she took note of his smile, which was very pleasant, and his eyes, which were a warm brown and a shade or two lighter than his hair. She wouldn’t have called him handsome, but he was certainly nice-looking. She hadn’t married him for his looks, though—all that was quite immaterial. She was on assignment, her first priority.

Yes, it was. She paused, wondering if she should say anything. She didn’t want to start their relationship off on a sour note. However, he needed to know where she stood on important issues such as punctuality and dependability, and it was best that she be honest right from the start. I was concerned that you might not make it on time.

It’s been a very harrowing morning, he replied, but didn’t elaborate.

What exactly did he mean by that? What was harrowing about packing a bag and coming down to the train station? And I suppose that getting married was the last thing you expected, she went on, hoping to elicit some sort of response.

Archie had told me it might be expected.

Archie? Oh, Agent Gordon? Cynthia nodded. I admit, I was rather surprised when I went in to apply and was told that all female agents needed to be married to their trainers before taking their first case. I’d heard rumors, but I dismissed them as being a bit too far-fetched.

Mr. Rawlings didn’t reply. He just returned her nod.

So, it doesn’t bother you? Marrying me?

I imagine we’ll get along all right, he replied.

And that was the extent of it.

Cynthia looked out the window. There wasn’t much to see as of yet—they were still on the outskirts of Denver. She was looking forward to reaching their destination of Salt Lake City and taking in their new surroundings. That would be an adventure in and of itself, considering that she hadn’t traveled much in her life.

Perhaps we should discuss the case? I only know the basics—

At last that got his attention, but not in the way she’d hoped. He fixed her with a look. Miss Baxter . . . although, I supposed I could call you Mrs. Rawlings now . . . we will discuss this later.

She blinked. I only—

He leaned forward and nearly touched her nose with his. Do you understand that we’re surrounded by people who could overhear us? Undercover agents do not discuss their cases in public. Now please, have a care and let me get some sleep.

He straightened, leaned his head against the back of the seat, and closed his eyes.

Cynthia was ashamed. She should have realized this wasn’t the time or place to talk about sensitive things, especially when the noise of the train made it necessary for them to raise their voices even to be heard. She’d only wanted to initiate a conversation, to get him talking about something—anything. She hadn’t thought about the consequences.

But still, he didn’t have to be so rude, and what did he mean by going to sleep? Wasn’t part of his job to protect her? How could he protect her if he was asleep? She could be kidnapped or she could fall off the back of the train—any number of things could happen to her. And she didn’t even know how to shoot a pistol yet! How was she to defend herself if something went wrong?

She took a deep breath and tried to calm herself. She was perfectly capable of seeing to her own safety. If she wasn’t, she never should have applied to be a Pinkerton. And the fact that Mr. Rawlings was sleeping meant that he trusted her to be independent. Either that, or he was the laziest man she’d ever met. Agent Gordon had indicated that he’d be assigning her to a highly skilled trainer, but perhaps he’d only said that to reassure her. Perhaps she’d been pawned off on a complete wastrel.

Well, this wasn’t going to do at all. When they reached their next stop, perhaps she should buy a return ticket to Denver and go tell Agent Gordon what she thought about this arrangement. It was one thing to promise her a skilled trainer and quite another to assign her to someone who wouldn’t even hold a conversation with her.

But she was married now, and that made resigning from her job extremely difficult. Maybe that was the real reason why female agents were supposed to marry their trainers—so they couldn’t turn tail and run when things got hard. She tried not to seethe as she thought about it.

After a time, the train pulled into another station, and the conductor announced a thirty-minute stop. Mr. Rawlings opened his eyes and looked around, then stood. I see a hotel through the window. We’d best stop and get some real rest.

Stop? But . . . we’re supposed to be in Salt Lake City as soon as possible.

Yes, I know. He walked down the aisle and spoke with the conductor, who returned a moment later with their bags. Cynthia fumed as she watched the exchange. He might be her husband, but that didn’t mean that she owed him her unquestioning loyalty. He was