Runaway Pinkerton

By Robyn Kaech

When Matty’s high society parents grow tired of her refusal to pick a man and marry, they choose a potential husband for her. Matty has no intention of getting married, especially to the cold, boring man her parents have chosen. Matty wants adventures, to live a life of purpose, to be a Pinkerton agent like her grandfather. So she runs away from New York to St. Louis in a wild gamble for her freedom.
Cliff is leaving the Pinkerton Detective Agency, eager to return to ranching in western Montana. His days as an undercover agent are done. Well, once he completes one last job as a favor to the Chief. So Cliff takes a detour between Chicago and Montana via St. Louis, where he encounters a mysterious woman who disrupts a clandestine meeting with another agent. Something prompts Cliff to abduct the woman and drag her along on his last mission. There is no logical excuse for wanting to hang on to her after they meet, just a tugging at his heart warning him that if he walks away he will never see her again.
Both Cliff and Matty are running away from something. Matty is running away from a forced marriage and Cliff is running away from a terrible event in his past as a Pinkerton agent. Together they find something worth running to.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Halstad House
• Release date: May 7, 2014
• ISBN: 9780989047265

Robyn Kaech

Robyn Kaech lives in Texas with her family. She has written several romances, including Runaway Pinkerton, This Moment, Jewel of Baleria, and Country's Cowboy.

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Runaway Pinkerton

Robyn Kaech

Halstad House

Runaway Pinkerton

By Robyn Kaech

Copyright 2014 Robyn Kaech

Published by Halstad House

Smashwords Edition

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third party websites or their content.

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

Table of Contents

Chapter One--The Alley

Chapter Two--The Farm

Chapter Three--The Greeting

Chapter Four--The Discovery

Chapter Five--The Escape

Chapter Six--Waiting

Chapter Seven--The Return

Chapter Eight--A Fallen Woman

Chapter Nine--Undercover

Chapter Ten--Marriage

Chapter Eleven--Departure

Chapter Twelve--A Cattle Herd

Chapter Thirteen--An Escape

Chapter Fourteen--Resolution

Chapter One

Clifton Deschamps stood four inches over six feet in his stocking feet. Though he was a young man, he had lived enough life in his twenty-eight years to stamp him with a maturity beyond his physical years upon the earth. Tall, blonde, and handsome, his looks actually hindered his undercover career as a Pinkerton agent. Instead of blending in a crowd, Cliff always caught the eye and held it.

Women stared at him in appreciation, from his thick mane of golden hair, to his deep brown eyes framed by lashes too thick and long for a grown man, down along his broad shoulders, and across the his flat stomach. Perhaps the gaze often lingered a moment before continuing along his long, lean legs then back up his long, lean legs. Many a pulse raced by the time the gaze had covered his form.

Men stared at him with an awareness that marked him in their memory. There was an edge to Cliff that caused many a man to shift his weight uncomfortably as they considered what threat, if any, the golden haired man posed. The more testosterone-driven man might be tempted to flex his muscles, driven to male competition, much like male animals driven to defend territory or prove their right as dominant male. The less testosterone-driven man kept a wary eye on Cliff, alert to what threat Cliff might represent.

Cliff approached the alley entrance cautiously, stopping next to the clapboard building bordering the alley. The street behind Cliff was dimly lit by feeble gas lamps burning at a low flame. The gas lamps provided just enough light to keep a person from walking into a building but provided little light to actually see anything with detail. The street was in dark shadow cast by the buildings lining the street yet beyond the last building on the street sunlight bathed the field in a warm, golden light.

A wagon train gathered in that field on the edge of town. The doorknob of the door in the building across the street blended invisibly in the dark rectangle yet two blocks away the metal belts on the harnesses of the horses were visible. Dusk was a fickle creature, wreaking havoc on the eyesight during the transition from day to night.

Cliff peered around the edge of the building. The sputtering, yellow light from the street lamp behind him did not reach more than a few yards into the alley. As his eyes adjusted and the sun sank a bit further, Cliff could eventually make out three shadowy figures standing close to the building on the right side of the alley. Cliff had not planned on the alley being occupied and he was not happy with the delay. He was impatient to meet his contact and be on his way.

The figures moved a few more feet closer to the center of the alley, allowing Cliff to see their silhouettes more clearly. Two men each held the wrist of a boy. The two men argued with the boy held firmly between the two men. The trio moved a few steps again then stood still while they argued, the boy doing most of the talking. Since the boy’s back was to Cliff, he could not distinguish the words being said. A dismal, orange glow coated everything in the alley from the gaslight in the street. Cliff swore under his breath. The boy had probably been caught stealing. There certainly seemed to be a lot of that activity in this town.

Cliff leaned against the wall, trying to patiently wait for the occupants of the alley to conclude their business and move on. There was time yet before his contact was due. Normally patience came naturally. Everything about this assignment was off though and the delay just added to his irritation with the whole ordeal.

Cliff had already been considering ending his five year career as an agent for the Pinkerton Detective Agency when he received the news that his father was ill. The senior Clifton needed his son to return to the family ranch in Montana. The summons home had been the turning point and all doubt left him about what he had to do.

The Agency had excited Cliff when he first joined. Going after criminals appealed to the young man fresh out of university but as the years passed he did not always agree with the direction the Agency was taking. One particular incident had created a bitter taste on his tongue that he could not wash away.

Within an hour of receiving the news about his father Cliff had tracked down Allan Pinkerton to tell him that he must go his own way. Giving notice to the Chief and immediately heading due west from Chicago to the Montana Territory had been his plan. Yet here he was, two weeks later, skulking in a deserted side street in St. Louis, Missouri. One last job, the Chief asked from him. Cliff was impatient to get the job done and be on his way home.

I know St. Louis is slightly out of your way, Allan had said when Cliff gave him the news. But I need a man down there and you could swing by, give it a look.

Cliff cocked one eyebrow and tilted his head. Slightly? he asked.

You are a fine young man, Allan said, nodding in agreement at his own statement. A few more years under your belt and you would have made a top agent. I know that the Kendriff deal got under your skin. We will get him, mark my words. We always get our man.

Cliff shifted his weight on the chair. He did not like being reminded of Kendriff. Cliff was not running from Kendriff. He was returning home. His father needed him. It’s my father, sir. His health is in question and he requested I return.

Allan nodded his head, gaze boring into Cliff’s eyes, seeing deeper than the surface with a clarity born of wisdom and years rooting out criminals made possible by understanding the heart of a man. It wasn’t your fault. I hold no blame on you. Allan broke the gaze and slid two folders across his desk to Cliff. Let’s call it a sabbatical. When you get things in order at your family ranch you will return.

I don’t plan on returning, Cliff said, voice cold. The Chief did not blame him? Why would the man even bring it up if there was no thought of blame?

Today, maybe not. But later, maybe yes, Allan said. He tapped his finger on the folder. I will keep you on the payroll for now, including covering expenses. That should get you more than halfway home. I don’t have the men together yet to cover this situation and since you are heading that way you can do one last job. I need an undercover man, someone to smell out the lay of the situation. Once you have the information needed I will take it from there.

I was planning on leaving this summer, Cliff said. This just pushes up my timeline.

Allan nodded. Yes, yes. Your ranch you bought. But this is important. You do important work.

You know about the ranch? Cliff asked in surprise.

Of course, Allan said Was it supposed to be a secret?

Cliff shook his head. No. But I didn’t tell anyone.

Of course you did. You told the realtor and the bank and the man you bought the land from. I’m sure there are more names on the list of men who knew, Allan said in surprise.

Allan Pinkerton had gotten his way and Cliff now found himself sidetracked in St. Louis, Missouri on his way to Montana peering around the corner of a building at the alley entrance. Dusk covered the alley entrance in deepening shadow. Cliff could hear voices coming from the back of the alley but he did not see the source of the voices until the trio moved into sight.

Cliff had no desire to be noticed. Hopefully the men struggling with the boy would settle the matter and move on without more commotion. They had not noticed Cliff, too intent on their own situation. Alert to danger, he remained in the shadows, watching the scene unfold. Cliff leaned one broad shoulder against the wall of the clapboard building on the corner at the alley entrance, prepared to wait them out. One of the men violently shook the boy by the arm. This man faced Cliff and his words hit Cliff clearly.

How dare you play me for a fool! the man yelled, shaking the boy’s arm with each word. Did you think I would not know? It’s a dangerous game you play.

The boy’s hat slid off his head inch by inch with each shake on his arm until a massive pile of hair slid out of the cap and cascaded down the youth’s shoulders. Cliff’s eyebrows rose and he straightened as he realized what he was seeing. Seemed to be that the boy was not a boy at all. Cliff casually glanced around the street, relieved that the area remained deserted. The last thing he needed was an audience to gather.

The wind picked up speed, sending a touch of cold air down the front of his coat. Behind him the gas lamps hissed as they flickered and wavered, threatening to go out with each wind gust. Cliff pulled his coat collar shut and glanced up at the sky. A storm brewing would just be the icing on the night. Fortunately, though there were clouds they were high and did not look threatening.

Cliff needed the trio to finish their business and move on. Besides not wanting an audience he worried that his contact would shy away if he saw others about when he arrived. His contact already thought that they should have met at the local Pinkerton office instead of hiding in dark alleys.

The girl had remained docile until she lost her hat. Now she suddenly struggled like a puma kit backed into a corner. The taller of the two men received a kick in the shins and released his grip in surprise. The other man was not so easy for her to dislodge. He held his grip despite a few solid kicks finding their mark.

You can’t make me do it! They can’t force me to do it! she yelled.

Cliff sighed. This was taking much too long. He did not know who was at fault for what but it was time to put an end to the commotion. Instead of her being a pickpocket caught in the act maybe she was being forced into something vile. There was also a lot of that going on in this town. Cliff had no intention of learning the full story. Either way, he made up his mind to clear the alley and there was only one way he could do it, the direct way.

Neither man saw Cliff step out of the shadows until it was too late. A simple fist to the chin and the tall man dropped like a sack of potatoes. The other man turned and met Cliff’s fist. He dropped onto the first man’s limp body. The girl stared open mouthed at the two men crumpled on the ground. Slowly her gaze moved up to Cliff.

Friends of yours? he asked, studying her in the dim light.

The girl met his gaze in silence. The gas lamp nearest the alley entrance flared and the sudden boost of orange light gave them each a clear view of the other. Time seemed to shift for a moment. This was no girl. This was a woman.

One minute Cliff was ridding himself of a bothersome commotion when he needed privacy to conduct his own business in the back alley. The next minute he was caught in the open space of the universe, tethered to Earth by the two most glorious eyes, as deep and full of life as the first day of spring, the height of autumn, the sharpness of winter. The woman’s cupid bow lips parted to speak then she blinked and shook her head. She seemed to be holding her breath. Startled, Cliff dropped back to earth with a jolt that knocked the wind out of him. As if she had shared the same experience the woman took a deep, shuddering breath.

Zank you zo much, she said slowly as she regained her composure. "Ez not zo easy zu zlip by dese mens. Very determined zey was.’

The vision’s voice startled him. The accent and garbled language did not suit her. Cliff grimaced inwardly. He was not about to make any judgments. It was just, well, just that he had expected an angel’s voice to match those heavenly eyes. Well, to be sure angels did not wear boy’s clothes and get into brawls with two men in a dark alley late at night either.

"I hope I did not save a pickpocket from lawful men,’ Cliff said, glancing down meaningfully at her assailants. Cliff almost missed her twinge of haughty disdain at the thought before her blank mask slipped back into place. Almost missed. The expression caught his interest. This woman was more than she appeared.

Ach, but it weren’t monies that started ze grabbing, she said, one eyebrow rising and twitching meaningfully.

Odd, Cliff thought, for a moment she had sounded more Scottish than French. Cliff did not hide his deliberate gaze as he studied her from her well booted feet, up pressed linen trousers to a fine silk shirt covered by an oversized, embroidered wool vest and fine wool jacket. There was nothing at all subtle about the way he looked at her. Boy or girl, she was well dressed for a mystery criminal in a dark alley.

The woman bristled with resentment by the time his gaze reached her face, a finely sculpted face free of blemish or imperfection of any type. Her cheekbones were high, accenting her heart shaped face. In the wavering glow of the gas lamps her hair could have been dark brown, red, or dark blonde. Cliff’s attention dropped back to her lips and lingered, lips finely arched with just a pout to the full lower lip. Cliff had the strongest desire to feel those lips on his lips.

The mystery woman licked her lower lip, gaze locked on his mouth. Um, she whispered, distracted as she looked him up and down. She held her lower lip between her teeth.

No one would mistake you for a boy, madam, Cliff said. At least not within a few yards.

In the dark it was difficult to tell if she blushed. She definitely looked uncomfortable. Whatever she had been thinking while assessing him fled right out on the wind blowing through the alley. Her chin rose. Her eyes flashed. Zank you again for zee help. You may go, monsieur.

I’ll take care of these men,’ Cliff said. If you’re smart you’ll take off before they come to."

The mystery woman looked alarmed, eyes briefly flickering toward her assailants. Cliff crossed his arms in front of his chest, impatient for her to depart, curious as to what brought her to this spot, and quite definitely certain that she had no intention of leaving. They stood thus, waiting for the other to back down and leave. She chewed on her lower lip, glancing again at the two men sprawled in the alley. Her eyes gleamed suddenly when she looked up at Cliff again. Cliff swore he could see the wheels turning in her skull.

But why spend zuch a lovely night lonely? she asked, one eyebrow twitching again.

Cliff almost laughed out loud at the eyebrow twitch. She probably thought she was being seductive but instead she looked like a third rate stage actor playing a villain. For some reason he found it strangely endearing. She obviously wanted to take care of these two men herself. It was looking more and more like she was not an innocent victim after all. Maybe she was not a pickpocket but if she was a whore she had her eyes on the wallets these men carried.

We shall dance, you and I. Zen maybe visit ze tables. Zome vine, zome music. It shall be magnificent!

I prefer my women from a class who don’t pick pockets and throw themselves from man to man, Cliff said coldly.

Again her back straightened in disdain but she considered her words before speaking. But vat do you, uh, mean zu do to dese men? she asked, chewing her lower lip again.

Unlike with you, their pockets shall remain intact, Cliff said.

For a moment the mystery woman looked relieved. The change was not obvious but he could sense the tension ease from her. She still decided to keep acting though. The mystery woman picked her hat off the ground and jammed it on her head. Cliff watched her stomp away without another word.

For several minutes she looked like she was marching, arms stiff at her side and knees rising dramatically, pounding the ground with each step. Eventually she walked more naturally, hips swinging in those form fitting pants. Cliff watched those swinging hips until she was out of sight.

The alley suddenly felt empty with her gone. The darkness flowed into every crack and cranny. The gas lamps out on the street flickered and threatened to go out again. Cliff could hear them hissing even from where he stood. He stood immobile for several minutes, staring at the spot where she had stepped out of sight. Cliff took a step after her then stopped.

Cliff shook his head, baffled by the way she had jumped into his head and would not jump back out. The woman dressed as a boy was clearly a thief and quite possibly a whore and if he did not have very pressing business at hand he would have been tempted to see how well she danced, in his room, with his eye on his wallet. She did not walk like a boy either. No, not at all.

Cliff turned at the sound of a step in the alley. A man stepped out of the shadows. Cliff only relaxed slightly when he saw that the man matched the description of his contact. Just under six feet in height and steely gray hair trimmed short, no facial hair except a pencil thin moustache. The description had stated that Henry had a strong military bearing. By strong military bearing they must have meant that the man was as stiff as a board.

Henry glanced down at the two unconscious men. Remind me not to face that fist of yours, he said, even as he bent to make sure the two men were still senseless. He gave a soft whistle. I recognize this one. Name’s Bob Smith. Agent.

The other one? Cliff asked.

Henry shook his head. Don’t know him. The girl seemed familiar but I can’t place her. Did not get a good look.

I don’t like coincidences, Cliff said under his breath. He glanced down the dark street. There was no sign of the little pickpocket whore. I really don’t like coincidences.

Bob’s one of the good guys, his contact said. Retired when his wife took ill.

So what is he doing in this alley, at this time, trying to drag away a girl dressed as a boy? Cliff asked, glancing in the direction the girl had taken out of the alley.

Henry shrugged. Maybe the girl was a pickpocket and chose the wrong mark. You might have picked the wrong chin to tap. Kendriff really has you on edge. That’s what you think this is about, is it not? These men have nothing to do with Kendriff.

It’s like him to use something off the wall, Cliff said, feeling his back go up at the mention of Kendriff. What do you know about it?

I am just here, in this back alley instead of at the office, missing my wife’s pot roast, to give you the list, his contact said.

As long as he’s loose he’s a threat, Cliff said. The one thing he did not like about closing his career as an agent was leaving Kendriff hanging over his head.

Here’s the list, Henry said, handing Cliff an envelope. We’ve already sent out word. As of tonight you’re a wanted man.

Cliff pocketed the envelope. After this I’m retired. I’ll send word when these men have been, uh, taken care of. Then I’m done.

Hard to believe you can walk away from all this, Henry said, waving his arm around the orange lit alley. "I heard though. You want to try your hand at