An Agent for Frances: Pinkerton Matchmakers, #34

By Marie Higgins

Pinkerton Agent Vincent Brooks wants only one thing–to stop the southern rebels from uprising and creating another war. His assignment is to be the temporary sheriff of Bonham, Texas, which seems easy enough, until he runs across a woman he'd met eight months earlier, Francis Carlton, sneaking around in the dark, spying on the bank. Not only is the confounded woman following him around and prying into his Pinkerton business, but she has a strange way of filling his mind with desirous thoughts that shouldn't be there. He can't be distracted, and yet, she seems to accomplish being his greatest diversion quite well. 

 

Frances Carlton is determined to show Agent Brooks that she would make an excellent Pinkerton agent. Eventually, she'd make him a wonderful wife, too. However, the stubborn man refuses her help, and he reminds her of that every time she gets in his way. It's difficult to focus on catching the outlaws when Vincent is around, since he seeks out her kisses almost on a daily basis. Now, it is up to her to change his mind–and his heart.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Barr26 Publishing, LLC
• Release date: Jan 5, 2024
• ISBN: 9798223260561

Book preview

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Texas, 1873

Pinkerton Agent Vincent Brooks stood behind the livery stable, peeking around the corner toward Bonham, Texas’ one and only bank. As temporarily appointed sheriff, Vince had caught wind of something going on down here tonight. He took his job seriously, especially if lives were involved. And they were. Someone could get hurt – or die.

Walter Shipp, manager of the bank, was one of the men the Pinkerton agents suspected of being part of this whole south uprising mess. It had only been eight months since Vince’s good friend, Agent Blake Bentley stumbled across a gang of men scattered across the southern states who were trying to overturn the Civil War’s decision – that the north and President Lincoln had won. Allan Pinkerton sent some of his agents out to put a stop to the secret society before any further damage could be done.

Vince glanced toward the horizon. The sun would make its debut within the hour. Once the sun peaked in the sky, he doubted Walter would do anything of a suspicious nature. The man would be foolish not to keep up appearances within the town. But as much as Walter wanted everyone in Bonham to think he walked on water… Vince knew differently. He’d read the telegrams sent between the bank manager and Phillip Matthews from South Carolina. Both men had been up to no good. At least Pinkerton Agent Blake Bentley and his wife, Claudia, had put Phillip Matthews in jail for his crimes.

A shadow moved near the bank’s front door. Vince hovered his hand above his pistol, ready for anything. His gut told him something would happen soon… and his gut was rarely wrong. One of his skills as a Pinkerton agent was being a sharpshooter. He’d get his outlaw – or die trying.

The shadow moved again, but this time it headed along the front wall to turn around the back. Vince darted from one tree to the next, trying to keep from being noticed. Of course, because the clouds continued to pass over the moon, there was very little light – or none at all.

When he neared the bank, he hurried his steps until he was flat against the outside wall. He listened intently for any sounds. Crickets still created their annoying chirping, but so far, that’s all he heard.

Slowly, he peeked around the corner and peered down the long, back wall of the bank. It seemed even darker than in front, so he used his other senses to try and detect if someone was out there.

Nearby came the crunching of leaves, and seconds later, a twig snapped. It sounded as though the person sneaking around the bank was coming his way.

In the night’s light breeze, he smelled something… almost like flowers. But he couldn’t tell if there were any flower bushes nearby. And then suddenly, someone ran right into him. The startled umph that came from the other person was a much higher tone than he figured a man would make.

Vince grasped the woman by her arms just as she swayed. She struggled to get out of his clutches and kicked him hard in the shin. He grimaced, biting back the stinging pain. He was as determined not to release her as she was fixed on getting away.

Let me go! she whispered roughly.

Calm down, he said in low tones, or you’ll cause a commotion.

She sucked in a quick breath. A commotion? Outside in the dark with nobody else around?

Shhh… he placed his hand over her mouth. You’re too loud.

She was a petite woman; the top of her head barely reached his chin, and from what he had felt of her arms when he stopped her from falling, she was slender. As he held his hand over her mouth, he could tell she had soft skin, too.

She yanked his hand away. Will you stop touching me?

His thoughts shifted, and he wondered what a woman was doing at the bank this time of the morning. Immediately, he concluded that she must be part of Walter Shipp’s gang – because there were both men and women who were trying to reorganize the southern states to rebel and start a new civil war.

Suspicion rose inside of him and he clamped his hand on her upper arms again. Who are you and what are you doing out at this time… and in the dark… and near the bank?

She growled and tried pulling out of his hold, but he wouldn’t budge.

Who I am and what I’m doing is none of your concern.

I beg to differ.

You can beg all you like, but that doesn’t mean I have to tell you.

Listen, little missy, he said sternly but still kept his voice lowered, if you don’t tell me right now, I’m going to haul you off to jail and lock you up until you start talking.

She gasped and her hand moved to his chest. At first, he wondered why she slid her palm over his shirt, but when her hand touched his sheriff’s badge, she stopped and sucked in a breath.

You’re the sheriff?

Temporarily, yes.

Wh-what’s your name? Her voice shook slightly.

Listen, missy, if anyone is going to give out names right now, it’ll be you. Now start talking.

Her intake of breath was quite noticeable because it shook, even when she exhaled. Her body didn’t seem as stiff, either.

My name is Miss Frances Carlton.

The name nudged Vince’s memory and he knew he’d heard it before. Why are you at the bank, Miss Carlton?

I’m… I’m… looking for my brother.

Vince rolled his eyes. Another skill he had that helped as a Pinkerton agent was detecting when people were lying. Even though he couldn’t see her face, her tone of voice told him she was lying. Had he questioned this woman before in regards to another crime? Perhaps that was how he recognized her name.

Do you care to try again, Miss Carlton? I know you’re lying.

A low growl came from her and she stomped her foot. "I’m not lying. I’m looking for my brother. He’s not… um, right in his mind, and so he sometimes sneaks out of the house. When I realized he wasn’t in his bed, I came out to look for him."

"Why did you not wake your parents? Your father should have been the one looking for him… not his sister. A woman wandering alone in the middle of the night isn’t proper at all."

Her shoulders straightened. Considering my parents’ residence for the past six months has been the Bonham cemetery, I’m certain neither of them would have been able to look for my brother unless they were ghosts.

His gut twisted, knowing the pain of losing parents quite well. But he couldn’t let that sway his mind. He still found her very suspicious. Now for the third question I’d asked. Why are you at the bank?

Because… this is where I’ve found him a few times.

As he pondered the situation, and especially what he should do, the clouds moved away from the moon. He could finally see the outline of her face and that her hair hung over her shoulders and down her back. However, he still couldn’t remember where he’d heard her name before… or exactly how old she was. He believed her to be at least in her twentieth year, but he doubted she was much older.

Suddenly, she gasped loudly and her head swung around as she looked back. That’s when he faintly noticed some light coming from within the thicket of trees. He must have relaxed his hold on her because she yanked free, but then she took hold of his arm and tugged.

We need to get out of here. Now!

If the people coming toward them had anything to do with Walter Shipp and the southern group of rebels he was with… then yes, Vince and Miss Carlton needed to hide.

As he moved his feet with hers, he realized she was in the lead. He couldn’t allow that. Not when he was the sheriff, even if it was temporary.

Come this way, he whispered, taking her hand and pulling her a different way.

No. She yanked her hand out of his grasp. This way. We’ll be able to hear better.

His curiosity grew. Miss Carlton was certainly not out here to find her brother. He opened his mouth to argue, but then realized it would be better to hear the men who were getting closer by the second.

Vince followed her until they reached what looked to be… a privy? Inwardly, he groaned. She wanted to hide behind a place where people took care of their body releases.

She crouched down, peeking around the corner. Vince had no other choice but to stand behind her and peer around the edge of the outhouse. Thankfully, the breeze helped to remove the stench that would be inside the structure. At least for now, anyway.

Six men neared the bank, three of them carrying lanterns with dimming lights. All of them