An Agent for Adelaide: Pinkerton Matchmakers, #37

By P. Creeden

Adelaide is running from trouble, but runs right into the Pinkerton Agency. When she gets matched with a rough-looking former pugilist, will she run again?

 

Adelaide is running from the bad luck she'd lived with her whole life as a miner's daughter, and the debt that her father has put upon her head. She's been given a life of slavery, but a former slave helps her out of a horrid situation. Once freed, Adelaide must choose what life she'll make for herself and when she runs into a Pinkerton agent, she wonders if that might be the best life for her.

 

Logan Wade is a mangled and messed up boxer who worked his way through law school, but found nothing as gratifying and rewarding than life as a Pinkerton agent. But when he finds out that his new partner is not only a woman but he will be forced to marry her, he starts to wonder if it's time to give up his calling. 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Barr26 Publishing, LLC
• Release date: Jan 14, 2024
• ISBN: 9798223586463

Book preview

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August 1872

Adelaide Walsh hated that she wished for her father’s death. It was a terrible thing to feel, but on the nights when he’d come home drunk and lost every penny he’d made in the mines, some part of her had begun to feel that she might have been better off if he wasn’t around. She loved him—of course, she did. But he was a shackle for her. A few months back was the first time she’d consciously wished for it, when her father had started coughing blood. It had never even crossed her mind before. As it became obvious that her father was nearing the end, she began wishing it would come sooner, and she hated herself for it.

On Saturday mornings, that’s when she wished it the hardest.

Addie! her father yelled from his bed, right before he leaned over the side of it and vomited.

She prayed that he’d made it to the pail she’d kept beside his bed and didn’t leave a mess for her to clean up.

I’m coming, Papa, she called back as she wiped her hands on her apron and rushed toward the sound of her father’s voice. He’d slept most of the morning away, which wasn’t much of a surprise since he’d stayed out until the wee hours of the night before, gambling and drinking in the saloon. Why did he have to do that every Friday night after getting his pay from the mining company?

He burned through every last cent before she could even get a hold of it and pay for food or other necessities. It had gotten to the point where she canned what she could and sold it to the general store after hiking all day in search of berries and other edible things that grew wild along the hills. And when she spotted baneberries, as she often did, she half considered mixing them into a jar of preserves specifically for her Papa. But no, she’d never do that. She couldn’t.

Addie, he said as he sat up in his bed with his head in his hands. Must you bang the side of the pot with your ladle? A man can’t get any sleep around here.

It’s nearly noontime, Papa. Don’t you think you should get up anyway?

He cracked one eye open and narrowed it at her. What kind of daughter tells her Pa what to do? You’re not so big that I can’t put you over my knee.

She set her hands on her hips and narrowed her eyes back at him. I’d like to see you try.

He shook his head and huffed a laugh. Fine. Fine. I’ll save that for another day. What do you have cooking? Anything for me to eat?

Baneberries, she said, lifting a brow.

He sighed. If that’s all you’ve got, I guess I’ll take ’em. But make sure you put it on toast, all right?

Adelaide thanked her lucky stars that her father had made it to the pail as she stepped over and took the offensive utensil and headed for the door. The last thing she needed was for the contents of the pail to continue to stink up the house. With a sigh, she went off to the side of the house where the hole was for her to place natural waste, and then she dumped the bucket. Using the rainwater barrel, she ladled out a bit into the bucket to rinse it out a few times, at least until she couldn’t smell anything more.

With a sigh, she headed back around the front of the house, but froze in her tracks when she found two strange men tying their horses to the porch. One of them was tall and thin, with longer hair, wearing a tanned leather vest. The other wore a the innards of a three-piece suit, without the jacket. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, he wore a bowler hat, and he smoked a cigar. They didn’t seem to be coming for a friendly chat. No. Her father rarely had company of any kind, and certainly none he didn’t tell her about.

When they knocked on the front door, Adelaide flinched as she held the pail tight in her grip. She wanted to round the corner and ask the men what they wanted, but somehow she got a bad feeling about them. Maybe it would be better if she decided to head off into the woods and go berry collecting. She frowned and looked down at her hands. First of all, she had the wrong pail for that, and secondly, she still had water boiling on the stove. She’d been in the middle of canning.

After a half minute had passed, they knocked again. The tall, thin man called in, George! We know you’re in there. We come to collect on that debt you owe. You signed a contract. There’s no use in hiding her now.

Her? Adelaide’s brow furrowed. There was no way that her father had signed over their milking cow again, was there? She shook her head. He’d promised her he’d never do that again. She had to trust him. But still, she cast a worried glance over toward the field on the other side of the house. If they made a move to collect the cow, Adelaide would do what she could to stop them. But what could she really do? She began chewing her lower lip in frustration.

Last chance to open up now, George, or we’re coming in anyway.

She’d left the door unlocked, and to that regard, she felt blessed. At least they wouldn’t be kicking in the door. Even though it was the end of the summer, winter wasn’t so far off that she didn’t need to worry about getting the door fixed. Then she watched as they opened the door and headed inside. Clenching the bucket in her hands harder, she peered around, looking for a weapon, and spied the ax that sat next to their wood pile. Slowly, she backed up toward it, set the pail down as quietly as she could and lifted the ax. Her heart beat wildly in her chest, and her ears rang. She breathed in slowly and pushed the exhale out of her mouth. Keeping her back against the house, she snuck to the corner and peered around it again.

The two men had her father by the back of the collar and threw him off the front porch and into the yard. The taller, thin man yelled, Where is she?

Without thinking any further, Adelaide rushed around the side of the house, brandishing her ax. What are you doing? Leave my father alone! If you want the stinking cow, just take her! She’s on the other side of the house!

No, Addie! Don’t! her father yelled.

At the same time, the gazes of both ruffians fell upon Adelaide and a smile quirked up their lips. The man in the bowler whistled. She’s even prettier than George had said.

The tall, thin man smiled wide and smacked the other man on the shoulder with the back of his hand. She sure is. Get her.

Realization, like a cold bucket of water, fell around Adelaide’s shoulders. It wasn’t the cow they wanted—it was her. Her eyes went wide as the man in the bowler came toward her. She swung the ax wildly at him. Don’t you take one more step toward me. I’m not afraid to cut you down like a tree.

The bowler man sneered at her as he jumped back, just out of reach. Scottie! What do you want me to do?

Scottie, the tall thin man with longer hair, frowned, stepped forward and grabbed her father by the back of the collar again. He pulled a pistol from the holster on his side and pressed the barrel of the gun to the back of her father’s head. "Put down the ax and come with us peaceably, or your father will have to pay