Recruited

By Fran Shaff

Recruited, Book 4, Tender Mysteries Series

Liza’s accused of stealing fifteen hundred dollars from her employer.

Antonio seems to be the only person who can help her out of the mess she’s in.

June, 1896: Liza’s not sure she can trust the handsome private investigator she needs to help her, but she decides to work with Antonio anyway.

Antonio believes Liza is as guilty as the prosecutor says she is, but, having been instantly smitten with the beautiful woman, he wants more than anything to find a way to get her acquitted of the charges against her.

He devises a plan to prove Liza’s innocence by trying to connect the missing money to a ring of pickpockets who have been operating in eastern Nebraska. Despite the fact that he has every intention of running his investigation on his own, Liza, trusting her life to no one but herself, doggedly stays at his side.

Caught up in the adventure of dealing with pickpockets, train robbers and desperados, Liza is swept into romance as well, and, before long, she realizes she’s found something special with Antonio she hadn’t even known she’d been seeking.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Fran Shaff
• Release date: Jun 6, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301914937

Fran Shaff

Just about all of us want to get away from the demands of everyday life from time to time. Unfortunately, most of us don’t have the luxury of being able to take off to some new, exciting place whenever we feel the urge--unless we like to read.A book can take us anywhere we’d like to go. For readers who enjoy living vicariously in pastimes or in modern times Fran Shaff provides a great escape in the more than twenty novels she’s published over the years. Fran’s fictional books have won awards from readers, reviewers and fellow authors, and her non-fiction has been acknowledged in this way too.Love is the main focus of all of Fran’s books, whether they’re contemporary or historical, serious or humorous, written for adults or teens. Love between men and women and among friends and families is featured in her books because there is nothing most of us want more than to love and be loved. Happy endings abound, but the journey to reaching that joyful final moment is always a rocky struggle, just the way we want our fiction (even though we could do without the drama in our real lives).Look for new, full-length historical romance novels from Fran Shaff in the ten-book “Tender Mysteries Series,” available now and debuting throughout 2013 and 2014. The first novel in the series “Resurrected” is available as a free download at most Internet bookstores. The series is available in single e-book and two-pack paperback formats.Reviewers say:“Ms. Shaff is a gifted writer that always delivers in her stories.” (The Romance Studio)“I have discovered a great new author in Fran Shaff. She writes with depth and understanding and digs deep into the emotional lives of her characters bringing the reader with her all the way.” (A Romance Review)“Fran Shaff is a wonderful writer whose prose speak with passion from her heart.” (Fallen Angel Reviews)“Ms. Shaff writes about characters that warm your heart and give you a good chuckle as well.” (Coffee Time Romance)

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RECRUITED

Book Four of the Tender Mysteries Series

By Fran Shaff

Inspirational Historical Romance

For Everyone Who Loves a Little Mystery in their Love Stories

Recruited: Book Four of the Tender Mysteries Series By Fran Shaff

All Rights Reserved

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2013 by Fran Shaff

Characters, names and incidents used in this story are products of the imagination of the author and are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

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 and retrieval system without permission in writing from the author.

Discover Fran Shaff books and short stories available in e-format, paperback and hardcover by visiting her website at: http://sites.google.com/site/fshaff

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Dedication

For the unsung heroic women who, over the last several hundred years, helped build the United States of America into a strong, caring country. Thank you for your dedication and sacrifice.

RECRUITED

MOLLY’S PROLOGUE

The Longfellow Wagon Train Encampment on the Wishek River in Nebraska

The dawn of May 6, 1888 was shrouded in darkness. Black thunder clouds frightened early rays of light from the sky. Rain pelted trees, horses, and the Conestoga rigs in our encampment.

I, Molly McKee Longfellow, a red-headed, fair-skinned Irish woman, thirty-four years of age on that day, was in the Green family wagon which had been placed on high ground fifty yards from the Wishek River. Because Elizabeth and Liza Green, twelve and eleven-year-old angels, ailed with severe colds, their kind father Mitchell had parked the wagon away from the travelers camped near the river to avoid spreading their infections.

On that dreadful May morning, while I was soothing Liza’s forehead with a cool cloth, I heard screams filling the air. The deafening shrieks mingled with the roar of thunder and the stabbing strikes of the ominous rain against the stretched canvas above and around us. I moved deftly to the rear of the wagon and peered through an opening. When lightning flashed I saw figures of all sizes, some moving quickly, some paralyzed on their feet, almost all of them looking up river.

As I followed their gazes, a roar filled my ears, growing, growing, until it overtook the sickening sounds of the screams. Seconds later, lightning flashed, and I saw a flush of water descending down the Wishek. I estimated the giant wave to be twelve to fifteen feet high, though I learned much later others farther upstream believed it was only half that.

Whatever the height and breadth of the deadly liquid wall, the evil murderer took what it willed, its power seeming to equal the potency of the Almighty Himself.

Fathers, mothers, siblings struggled to fight the wrath of the river. I watched helplessly as some gave their lives to save others.

I wanted desperately to spring from my perch and find my three precious daughters, but my duties forbade me from doing so. I had two cherished charges who were too sick to help themselves if the water rose to the height of the wagon we occupied. I owed my allegiance to these girls and my trust to my husband who, I prayed, would take our daughters to safety.

Twice I threw up the coffee and biscuits I’d swallowed an hour earlier. The sight and sounds of all that transpired during my confinement in the wagon made me terribly sick.

An hour after I’d first peered into the storm from the back of the wagon, the rain softened and the sky brightened. It was then I realized the results of the river’s rampage.

We’d been a train of nine Conestoga wagons and six families, eleven parenting adults and eighteen children, some of age and some not. When we took an audit of survivors, as soon as the conditions allowed us to do so, I learned I was the only remaining adult, alone on the deluged prairie of eastern Nebraska with nine little girls ranging in age from eleven to fifteen years.

My dear husband James Robert Longfellow, a forty-five-year-old dark-haired, fair-skinned, handsome Englishman, who’d been with me since our wedding day on December 31, 1871 and all three of my baby girls, Mary Elizabeth, aged thirteen, Joanna, aged nine, and my beloved daughter Annie, aged eight, had been eaten alive by the furious flood.

A sadder, more horrifying day I had never known.

After the flood, we quickly located and buried as many bodies as we could find. Unfortunately, we didn’t find all of our loved ones. We did, however, encounter another child, a parentless, brown-skinned little Indian girl. We took her in and unanimously adopted her as one of our own. We called her Angie as we believed God sent the little angel to soothe us during our time of sorrow. I gave her my surname and my birthday, December 25. We estimated Angie’s age to be eight years at the time we found her, and we have kept her chronology of years according to that estimate ever since.

The nine child survivors whom I also adopted included the Willet girls, Deborah, aged fifteen, Susan, aged fourteen, and the twins Bonnie and Becky, aged eleven. Mary Phillips, who was fourteen at the time of the flood, and Amy McKittrick, who was fifteen, joined the Green sisters, Liza and Elizabeth, and Flossie Marquez, aged thirteen, as part of my new family.

Throughout the years since the flood, my ten espoused daughters have been a great blessing to me. They’ve given me the courage I’ve needed to provide them with home and hearth, with love and patience, with food and encouragement.

All of them have reached womanhood as I write this in the year 1900. I have earnestly beseeched God for one favor besides granting good health to all of my girls--I have asked often that each and every one of them find men who will cherish them and give them bountiful family lives. I have believed my girls would be able to find relief from the horrible suffering they’ve endured due to their familial losses only by creating progeny with dearly beloved husbands.

I’ve always had faith that nothing is impossible with God, but I have often wondered, would He hear me and answer my prayers according to my will, or did He have plans of His own which countered mine?

About the time May came to an end in 1896 my beloved girls and I were just beginning to recover from the horror of Bonnie’s kidnapping, which we’d had to endure that spring.

In order to lift my spirits, which had been dreadfully low, I decided to focus on the good things happening in the lives of those I loved.

I eagerly reminded myself my hopes for my girls were well on their way to coming to fruition. Two of them were already blissfully married and expecting their first children and one more was planning a wedding to a wonderful man.

Susan, Bonnie and Elizabeth, who’d been dealing with health troubles, were finally showing signs of recovery.

Though I had every reason to be hopeful about the future, we all had a long way to go to recover completely from the ordeal of Bonnie’s kidnapping.

As part of my strategy to focus on happier things, I began to plan the January wedding for my precious Susan who’d promised herself to Sam Feist. While considering the upcoming nuptials of one daughter I began to dream of planning the ceremonies of more of my girls, particularly Liza.

She’d dated about a dozen men over the past two and a half years, but none of them seemed to be able to hold her interest for more than a week or two, though I’d found three of them to be particularly good prospects for her.

I tamped down my eagerness to see her betrothed each time I thought she may have found the right man because, though she was definitely of marriageable age since she’d turned sixteen in ninety-three, she was younger than several of the other girls. Since I didn’t want to somehow offend my elder girls, I never tried to push Liza into an engagement.

However, I was most definitely growing impatient with my hard-to-please little Liza. Surely, out of a dozen beaus she should have found at least one of them deserving of her love.

If I remember right, I was making a list of all of the out-of-the-county friends we would want to invite to Susan’s wedding when I noticed my list contained two of Liza’s former gentleman callers. I recall vividly that I began to grin as I wondered if, perhaps, there was still a spark of affection for one of them in Liza’s heart. I was tempted to interfere with fate by finding a way to place Liza directly into the path of my favorite of the two men and pray that she might rekindle a relationship which could turn into something lasting and fulfilling for her.

Before I had time to admonish myself for thinking of injecting my will into Liza’s life, Sam Feist, dressed in a dark blue shirt and dark denim pants, walked into my parlor.

As I sat at my new desk near the big window flanked by thick green draperies, I stared up at him, concern filling my heretofore happy constitution when I saw the dubious look on his face.

What’s wrong, I asked the tall sheriff, who would soon become Susan’s husband.

Sam removed his gray horseman’s hat, stirred his dark blond hair with his thick fingers and gazed at me with sorrowful blue eyes.

Miss Molly, he said dejectedly, I’ve got some distressing news. His Adam’s apple quivered as he squeezed the hat he held over his abdomen. "Albert Hoffman…Miss Liza’s boss at Hoffman’s All Goods store…he claims he gave Miss Liza…over a thousand dollars to deposit in the bank…and he feels-- He rammed his hat back on his head. Miss Molly, he’s downright certain Miss Liza has stolen the money he gave her to deposit. I’ve seen his evidence, and it’s rock solid."

I bolted to my feet. You can’t be serious! I shouted.

Ma’am, I…I… He gazed out the window next to my desk. I’m sorry, but I’ve had to arrest Miss Liza, he said, looking at me again. She’s in my jail right now, and she’s going to need a heap of help to get her out of the trouble she’s in.

My legs went out from under me, and I fell into my chair. I apparently passed out at the thought of Liza being incarcerated in the same jail as the men who’d kidnapped Bonnie because the next thing I remember, after hearing Mr. Feist’s distressing news, was waking to find my daughters surrounding me, as concerned for my wellbeing as I was for Liza’s.

Chapter One

Hope, Nebraska, June 1, 1896

I’ve done everything I can to get you out of here, Liza, Susan said mournfully. Sam won’t budge an inch. He says he had no choice but to lock you up in this dreadful jail, and he’s determined to do his job as he sees fit. Susan’s usually rosy cheeks remained pale, due to her unfortunate injuries connected with her blood sister Bonnie’s kidnapping. Her auburn hair was askew instead of being neatly arranged as it usually was, and the typical determination glowing in her brown eyes had been replaced by pain and concern.

Liza pushed a handful of black hair which had escaped its assigned place on top of her head away from her face. Don’t blame the sheriff for keeping me in here, she told her espoused sister Susan. It’s his duty to put suspected thieves in jail.

But you’re not a thief! Susan shouted.

You uppity wench! The pejorative name came from the lips of a fellow prisoner in a nearby cell. The man in his fifties with cold green eyes and a scraggly grayish beard wearing blue denim bibbed dungarees had been a party to Bonnie Willet’s kidnapping a few weeks before.

The entire Longfellow family had been miserably upset by the abduction and all of the damage done to the loved ones involved in it. Their anxiety had been so great, Molly, their matriarch, had forbid them from mentioning the names of the guilty parties who’d heaped misery on everyone. They don’t merit an ounce of respect, she’d said in her Irish brogue. We’ll under no circumstances speak their names heretofore. If the subject of these men should arise, we’ll refer to them as the vermin or the varmints, snakes or serpents who damaged our loved ones.

Since Molly was an exceedingly loving and forgiving woman, it had surprised Liza that she should make such a statement, but, having seen the horrible injuries these men had caused to three of her sisters, Liza tended to agree with Molly’s assessment and proclamation.

These men were not worthy of being acknowledged by names.

Susan sent a scathing look to the older of the two vermin in the nearby cell. Don’t speak to us, you son-of-a-snake!

I’ll speak to anyone I’ve a mind to speak to! the varmint yelled. I wish I’d have killed you and your simple-minded sister too!

She isn’t simple minded! Liza retorted. Until she fell into your hands Elizabeth was as bright as any ten professors. Even now, she’s a bright girl, she just has trouble with her memory.

The evil man sneered at her. Serves the bitch right.

Liza glanced at her blood sister Elizabeth who was standing next to Susan on the other side of the bars. She seemed terribly upset by the violent exchange going on.

I wish I’d have--

Before the old man could utter another word Susan was at his cell, grabbing his arm, pulling it through the bars. If only I had a hungry muskrat! she said through gritted teeth. I’d happily let him gnaw off each of your fingers, you horrible serpent. She twisted his arm until, with one easy flick, he tossed her backwards, causing her to fall on her behind.

She was rising to her feet, appearing to be ready to attack the prisoner again, when Sheriff Sam Feist entered the stone cell area of the jailhouse.

What the hell is going on in here? the tall, blond-haired, blue-eyed lawman in the dark denim pants and blue shirt asked.

Miss Susan launched an attack, said the handsome, tall younger varmint with the sharp green eyes and long curly brown hair. He pointed at the man beside him. She grabbed his arm and yanked it through the bars, intending to break it, I think.

Susan was fully on her feet now, and Sam took hold of her shoulder. Are you alright, honey?

She pulled away from him. I’m fine, she said, dusting off her dark green dress with a brush of her fingers, but I’d be a lot finer if you’d let Liza out of jail. You know she does not belong in the presence of nasty dogs like these two men.

Sam pressed his hand into her back and urged her toward the door leading to the office of the jailhouse. We’ve discussed this before, Susan. I cannot let Miss Liza out of jail until she’s been arraigned and bail is set and paid.

Susan stopped moving and turned to look up at him. You let her out of here right now!

Sam gazed at Liza. I’m sorry, missy. You know I can’t stand to see you locked up, but I sincerely have no choice. The remorse in his eyes made it clear he was sincere in what he was saying. I’m sure you’ll be freed on bail in a few hours so you can return to Miss Molly and your sisters.

Liza hoped Sam was right, but she was beginning to wonder if, perhaps, she’d never be freed. The evidence against her was pretty strong.

I hope you’re right, Sam, Liza said, lifting her nose in the air. I can’t stand the stench of snakes, she said viciously as she sent the men in the nearby cell the nastiest look she could muster.

It seems this wench is as mouthy as her sisters, the old man said.

Sam took two steps toward the horrible man and lifted his clenched hand. You shut your mouth, or I’ll swell it up so big with the slam of my fist you’ll never be able to open it again, the sheriff said through a hardened jaw.

The young snake took hold of the older one’s arm. Calm down, he said gently. There’s no need to antagonize the women or the law. Nothin’ you’re saying is going to do us any good. We done what we done, and we done it to people the sheriff’s powerfully fond of. I believe him when he says he’ll hurt us if we don’t do as he asks. He might even disallow the little one to come visit us. You wouldn’t want that, would you?

The old man’s eight-year-old son had been visiting the two varmints every day. Liza twice witnessed the boy’s visitation in the two days she’d been behind bars. It had been practically unbelievable that a man as vile as the old one was could show such great tenderness to his sweet little blond-haired, blue eyed boy.

I’ve got to see my boy, the old man said thoughtfully. He turned and went back to his cot. He plopped down and covered his face with his hands.

The younger kidnapper returned to his cot too.

I think they’ll behave now, Sheriff, Liza said.

He nodded in the direction of the abductors. Likely they will. The old man sets great store by being able to see his little boy. He took Susan’s arm and gazed at her sweetly. You’re looking peaked my dear. I’m taking you home to rest.

Susan shook her head. No! Liza needs me.

I’ll take care of Liza, Elizabeth said. She’s been terribly kind to me since I returned home. Please, let me be the one to see her through these difficult circumstances, she pleaded. I’d feel so much better if you’d go home and lie down for a few hours before you have to go to the hospital laundry to work your evening shift.

I’d feel better too if you rested a while, Sue, Liza said. Elizabeth’s kindness is all I need for now.

Susan, who remained unusually silent, glanced at Sam.

Come along, honey, he said, I’m sure Elizabeth will send word if Liza needs you, won’t you, Miss Elizabeth? He turned his gaze toward the dark haired, navy-eyed sister who looked so much like Liza they could be twins, if it weren’t for the nearly two-year difference in their ages.

If Liza wants you, Sue, she said, taking her adopted sister’s hand, I’ll come fetch you right away.

Susan hesitated a moment before she let go of Elizabeth’s hand and grasped Liza’s. I love you, darling. I’ll be back to see you before I go to work. Maybe, she said, letting go of Liza’s hand as she gave Sam a stern glance, I can, in the meantime, convince this stubborn man of mine to do the right thing and let you out of your cell.

Sam wrapped his arm around Susan and moved with her toward the door to the office. I’ll be back in a few minutes, Miss Liza, Miss Elizabeth.

She watched the betrothed couple leave the stone-walled, iron-barred room before Liza commented to Elizabeth in a voice low enough to be unheard by the men nearby, I don’t know which of the two of them will rule the roost once they’re married. They’re both as strong willed as any people I’ve ever known. She looked at her sister most directly and continued in her hushed tone. Was Sam able to handle Susan when you and they and Deputy Iverson were working together to find Bonnie’s kidnappers?

A tear formed in Lizzy’s eye, and Liza was immediately ashamed of asking her question because she already knew the wretched answer to it.

I…I don’t remember, Elizabeth said.

Blast it all! When was she going to understand without taking time to think about it that the Elizabeth standing on the other side of the bars was not the older sister she’d known for all of her nineteen years? She was still her full-blooded sister, but she barely remembered anything about their life together--thanks to the men in the cell a few feet away.

How she hated them for what they’d done to Elizabeth and Susan and Bonnie!

When was she going to be able to leave this horrible place and these despicable men?

The last two days had been worse than the most frightening nightmare she’d ever had.

Never mind my question, Elizabeth, Liza said, feeling guilty about making her sister unhappy by asking it. Now that Susan is no longer here to overpower the conversation, you can finally tell me if Mr. Faustino has set a time for my arraignment.

Elizabeth’s face brightened. "I saw him right before I came here, just as you’d asked me to do, and he said he’ll come by to get you for your court appearance about three