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The Packards’ and Bryants’ hopes for Ember were dashed when she died in pain. Sarah wept with her mother, and her father wore the longest face she had ever seen. They tried desperately to get Ember’s foal to drink from another mare, Rhoda, but it didn’t seem to be working. To make matters worse, she’d only caught a glimpse of Mark before having to say a brief goodbye. Feelings of intense anger came bubbling up like the lava inside a volcano ready to explode.
Just go, she silently seethed from atop her bed as she stared at the ceiling. See if I care, you fiend, her distraught mind screamed.
She had gotten upset with Mark from time to time, but never like this. She wanted to smack him. How could he just desert all of them this way? Traitor! Her parents needed him now more than ever, especially since her wedding was coming up and she, too, would be leaving them.
It was at that moment she realized that she was extremely weary, and as the tears came again, burning her raw skin, she didn’t stop them. Why had God let Ember die? And what if Ember’s foal died, too? The woman from Pennsylvania was supposed to come back soon, she thought. What would she think of their horse care if they weren’t able to save the foal? Her father was fond of saying that businesses either thrive or sink on reputation.
Her mind circling back to Mark, she held in another litany of words her mother wouldn’t be proud of. He’d been too busy trying to save a mare that couldn’t be saved. At least he had done that one honorable thing before he left. Her father was grateful for that.
By the third day of mourning, Sarah’s hair was matted to her face. Her mother came up to her room and knocked gently on the door. “Sarah?”
She didn’t answer but stared, unseeing, at the wall.
“Sarah? I just received another note from Ms. LaFontaine, asking when you will be in for your next fitting.”
“I don’t want to go,” she said sullenly.
Her mother’s voice became more strident. “I know you don’t, but I’ve already sent a reply. We’re to meet her at her shoppe in two hours. I suggest you get up this minute and bathe and dress. Hurry now. Elyse will help you.”
Sarah let out a lengthy sigh.
Her mother must have heard it because she said, “Sarah, you’ve been moping for too long. Ember’s death was premature, yes, but that is the way of things sometimes. The Good Lord giveth and the Good Lord taketh away.”
He’d taken away, all right. Not only was Ember gone, but Mark was, too. Possibly forever.
Her mother continued, “And as far as Mark goes, I’m sure that he did what he felt he needed to do. Now it’s time for you to do what needs to be done, so rise up and meet the day with a cheerful heart. You’re getting married to a wonderful man, and your father and I are proud of you.”
Sarah let her mother’s words roll over in her mind. She was excited to marry Derrick, and that day was fast approaching. In exactly ten days, she, her parents, and Mr. and Mrs. Bryant, along with their children and Amy, would board the train that would take them to St. Louis, and then on to Denver. She might never see her childhood home again. The thought brought a fresh wave of tears, which she barely managed to ward off.
Sitting up and smoothing her hand over her wrinkled skirt, which didn’t do any good, she told herself, “Enough of this sniveling, Sarah Jane Packard. You are a brave young woman, one who is ready to embark on a new adventure and begin a new chapter in her life. So stand up and face your future.”
With those encouraging words, she did exactly that. She didn’t even bat an eye when Ms. LaFontaine gushed over her trim waist and said, “My, my, if only I could have my figure back. You wait and see, Miss Packard, your tiny waist will grow when you carry the babies you are meant to have. But don’t you fret. An expanded waist is a sign that you are a well-loved woman. No little girlish figure for you anymore.”
“She’ll be lovely no matter what happens to her figure,” Mama replied, “though I don’t imagine she will grow as round as you are intimating. True, she took after her father rather than myself, but I think her figure will remain intact. Especially since she’ll likely only be able to carry one or two babies. Like me.”
Sarah blushed. From the time that she was young and started reading fairytales, she had dreamed of marrying a prince in a castle and having children. But when she envisioned her babies, they didn’t have blond hair. Their tresses were dark like coffee with the slightest bit of wave in them. Strange since neither she nor Derrick were brunettes.
It wasn’t until Sarah laid her head on her pillow that night that she realized something. Neither she nor Derrick had dark hair, but Mark did.
***
Denver, Colorado
mid-May
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Mark stood in front of a mahogany desk, staring at a head of ginger-colored hair that was bent over a piece of paper while scribbling on it. The owner, whose name was Archibald Gordon, reminded Mark of a lion on the prowl with his sharp eyes that seemed to take in every minute detail, right down to the color of buttons on a person’s shirt. The man’s wife, also a redhead, had greeted him with a smile and led him to her husband’s office after offering Mark a cup of coffee and a pastry. Mark clenched his fists while being interviewed by this man and locked his knees in an effort not to fidget. No wonder Chas could look so fearsome at times, or was constantly shifting his gaze at other times. He’d been trained by this man, Archibald—Archie for short—to always know what was happening around him, never to be caught off guard. Mark wanted to learn this skill as well. If he’d been more observant, he might have been able to prevent Derrick Baldwin from stealing his girl.
When Mr. Gordon raised his head, Mark forced himself to meet his direct gaze straight on. “Well, Mr. Wilson, not only was I thrilled to hear from one of my best agents after such a long time, but I also knew when he recommended you that the recommendation didn’t come lightly. Chas Bryant is a man of his word, and if he says you are a hard worker and quick learner, I believe him.”
Mark let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. Praise the Lord! He’d taken a huge risk by coming all this way, even with the letter Chas received back from Mr. Gordon stating that he would very much like to meet “this brave young man who helped you solve the Packards’ case back in ’71”. A feeling of awe that Mr. Gordon remembered Mark’s role in the capture of Joseph O’Neill and Earl Creedy engulfed him. This man really did have a mind that was sharp as a tack. He must have overseen hundreds of cases over the years, and yet he remembered a minor thing like that?
Willing his voice to remain steady, he replied, “Thank you, sir.”
Mr. Gordon cleared his throat, looking at the sheet of paper once again. “Agent Bryant—er, pardon me as he is no longer an agent—Mr. Bryant also claimed that you are ‘scrappy’ and think clearly under pressure. Care to explain?”
Mark gulped. Aside from the one incident when he had saved Sarah from a fiery death, what else had he done? He supposed that Mr. Gordon, already knowing about the incident, wanted to make sure he wasn’t a one-time wonder. And sadly, recalling Mark’s time in Dreviston late didn’t yield any more stellar results, either. In fact, looking back, he realized he’d been behaving rather boorishly. He promised himself he would do better from now on.
“Uh, well, sir . . .” he started to say.
A single brow lifted high on Mr. Gordon’s face. “Yes?”
“Well, I . . .” His mind was a total blank until an image from two years ago appeared. “There was an incident where I was able to help someone out, but it didn’t involve sleuthing, if you will. A man standing behind me in line at the bank suddenly collapsed onto the floor. He was unconscious and his face was turning blue. I’m not sure what came over me, but I had the idea to put my mouth over his and blow air into it, and then some voice told me to push on his chest. It wasn’t a voice that anyone could hear except me. I like to think it was the Holy Spirit guiding my hands to save the man’s life. I’ve never seen any doctor try this method before or since.”
Mr. Gordon gave a short nod. “Good, good. You may not have known what to do, but you were listening to a higher source.”
“Yes.” Chas and Jessica were always teaching him in the ways of spirituality, and encouraging him to listen to the promptings of the Holy Spirit. He shouldn’t have been surprised when Chas asked him to pray about coming west, but honestly, this opportunity seemed like a godsend.
To Mark’s relief and pleasure, Archie Gordon extended his arm for a handshake and said, “Welcome aboard, Mark. If I may call you that?”
“Yes, sir.”
“You may call me Archie.”
“Yes, sir.”
A tiny smile flashed on his face before disappearing again. “Now, let us get down to business, shall we? I actually have a case that needs attention.”
This is it, thought Mark. I’m really doing this. I’m a Pinkerton agent.
Mark’s elation evaporated, however, when Archie went to his door and called out, “Agent Lambert, will you join us, please?”
Expecting to hear a man’s voice in return, Mark was taken aback when a slightly nasal feminine voice responded instead. A moment later, a tall woman, solidly built, with a doll-like face, stepped into the room. Mark stared at her. She was almost as tall as him.
Archie introduced the two of them. “Agent Lambert, this is our new trainee, Mark Wilson. Agent Wilson, Agent Felicia Lambert. She’s a young widow. Spent most of her life running from the law. Not her fault, but her parents’. I’ll let her tell you all about it on your own time.”
Before Mark could process the strange words, Ms. Lambert turned to him and thrust out her hand. “Nice to meet you. Don’t worry. I’ll be gentle with you at first. But, be warned, it’s going to get tougher the further we get into your training. You’ll wish you had never stepped foot in the Pinkerton office.”
Mark’s mouth fell open. What?
Archie tsked, “Now, now. None of that, Felicia. You know those scare tactics aren’t our ways. Maybe I should pair Agent Wilson with a different trainer.”
Ms. Lambert grinned, showing a silver tooth. “Just joshing you, Archie. I can play nice.”
“Glad to hear it.”
“But if he gets outta line, I’m gonna have to whoop him good.”
Facing Mark once again, Archie said, “Don’t believe a word she says. Her bark is worse than her bite.” Walking over to his desk, he shuffled through a stack of papers. “Now, do you want to hear about your first assignment?”
Mark was barely able to get his tongue to work enough to answer, “Yes,” before Ms. Lambert butted in, “Of course, he is. Isn’t that what he’s here for?” Craning her neck so she could address Mark, she added, “You didn’t come here to watch the grass grow, did you?”
Feeling like a wasp was buzzing around him, he shook his head. “Uh, no. That is, yes. I’m ready for my first case as a Pinkerton agent.”
Archie nodded. “Great! Here it is.” With a flourish, he pulled out another single sheet of paper and proclaimed, “I have just the case for you to solve.”
Nervous anticipation filled Mark’s gut, and he asked almost gleefully, “Yes, Archie? What job do you have for us to do?”
A certain gleam entered his superior’s eyes and he grinned. “I need you and Agent Lambert to go to Mrs. Yolanda Fremont’s residence and find her lost cat, Hessy.”
Dumbfounded, Mark could only stare at his superior. Huh?
“Now, Archie,” Felicia cut in, “that’s a ridiculous assignment, and you know it. Mrs. Fremont is forever losing that feline. She shouldn’t keep letting the dad blame thing out of the house.”
Unruffled, Archie said, “It’s true that Yolanda Fremont has more money than she could ever spend, and she’s getting more senile with each passing week, but she still needs our help. She’s willing to pay.”
“That’s all fine and good, but the cat will come back on its own. It always does.”
“Humor her. And in the meantime, train Agent Wilson in the ways of detective work, most notably using deductive skills.”
Huffing, Ms. Lambert said, “Fine. Come along, Agent Wilson. Let’s go see Mrs. Fremont, shall we?”
I came all the way to Denver to find someone’s cat? Heck! What had Mark gotten himself into? Maybe he should have prayed about coming west after all.
