Petticoat Detective (38 page)

“I—I don’t know what to say,” she stammered.

“Then I’ll make it easy for you. Say you’ll marry me, Jennifer.”

Her heart squeezed tight and it was all she could do to breathe. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” She pulled her hand away and laid it on her lap. “So much has happened.”

“Your sister?” He sat back and his eyes brimmed with concern.

“It’s not just that.” How could she make him understand what she was having trouble understanding herself?

Arms on the table, he leaned forward. “I’m not saying we have to marry right now, today. We can wait till next week if you like.”

He was joking, of course, but she wasn’t in the mood to laugh. Better to just say it and get it out there. “I can’t marry you,” she whispered hoarsely. “Not today. Not next week. Not anytime.”

Her words hung between them for several painful moments before he spoke. “That’s it? That’s all you have to say?”

She swallowed the lump in her throat. “You said you were a simple man.”

“That’s before I fell in love. Now things are more complicated.”

She sat back.
Love!
He said love. Why did he have to say that? She pressed her hands together on her lap and tried to calm her rampaging emotions.

“Marrying you would mean …”

“Giving up your job, I know.” He held her gaze. “I’ll be honest with you. The ranch is a pretty poor substitute for the Pinkerton National Detective Agency. The only outlaws we have are the four-legged kind. Adventure is delivering a foal in the middle of the night and ‘seeing the world’ is what we call riding into town. The only thing I can give you is love. That’s all this cowboy’s got.”

Her heart lurched madly at the word
love
, and she wanted so much to say yes. Yes, she would marry him. Yes, she would give anything for the privilege of being his wife. But the words stuck in her throat.

He regarded her quizzically. “I thought you might have feelings for me, too.”

“Oh Tom, I do, I do.”

The muscle at his jaw tightened. “But your job means more.”

“It’s not my job,” she said miserably. If only it were that simple. “It’s not that important to me anymore.” Hard to believe but true. After finding Cissy, she no longer felt compelled to keep searching. Or maybe she was just tired of chasing around the country after criminals.

“Is it Davey?” He knitted his brow. “I have no right to ask you to raise another man’s son, but I thought you liked him.”

“I
do
like him. He’s not the problem.” During the short time she’d known him, the boy managed to carve out a place in her heart.

“Then it must be me,” he persisted.

“No, Tom, it’s me.” Her voice broke as she tried to piece together her fractured thoughts. “Staying at Miss Lillian’s taught me some things about myself. I now know how important fidelity is to me. I don’t think I could ever again trust a man, any man, to be faithful.” She lowered her lashes. “I would always wonder if …”

“Go on.”

She lifted her gaze to his. “If you were cheating on me … If our marriage was built on lies and deceit, I don’t know how I could live with that.”

He looked at her long and hard. “What you’re saying is you don’t trust me.”

“Not just you, Tom. Any man. Miss Lillian said you can’t keep a good man good.”

“And you believed her?”

“I saw it with my own eyes.” Everything bad her father and brothers did she blamed on Cissy’s disappearance, and that included her father’s unfaithfulness to her mother. Not only did people try to justify their own bad behavior but also the bad behavior of others.

She was trembling now but forced herself to continue. “Parlor house guests included family men—husbands and fathers. Churchgoers. So-called pillars of the community.”

“I would never cheat on you,” he said, and the sincerity in his voice almost unraveled her resolve.

“You say that now. But what about five or ten years down the road? Will you still be faithful then?”

“If you can’t trust me, then trust my faith in God.” His low, deep voice shimmered with intensity. “I would never do anything to you that would go against God or His commandments.”

She wanted to believe him. If only she hadn’t glanced at the battling couple across the way. The woman had forgiven her man yet again, but the way he looked at the pretty girl at the next table indicated the couple’s troubles were far from over. With this thought came unsettling memories.

A woman slapping her on the face.
“That’s for my Charlie!”

The pain that caused a young boy to toss a brick through the parlor house window.

“You can’t keep a good man good.”

She turned her gaze back to Tom. “I want to trust you, Tom, I do.” Each spoken word felt like a rock that had to be pushed out. “But I don’t think I have it in me to trust any man.” They were the hardest words she’d ever spoken but perhaps the most necessary.

She expected an argument: something, anything. None came, and they ate the rest of the ice cream in tense silence.

“Say something,” she said at last.

“What do you want me to say?” he asked, his voice clipped.

“How about ‘I’ll always be faithful to you no matter what’?”

“Would you believe me?” He tilted his head with a beseeching look. “Would you?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.” Tears sprang to her eyes. “No.”

He grimaced as if suddenly stabbed. “That’s what I thought.” He signaled the waiter for the check. His eyes met hers, and the remoteness in their blue depths nearly broke her heart.

“I’m sorry,” she said, her voice hoarse.

“Not as sorry as I am.”

J
ennifer paced her hotel room. The walls felt like they were closing in. If something didn’t happen soon she would scream. It had been a week—seven long days!—since she sent a telegram to Pinkerton requesting another assignment and still no word.

William Pinkerton wasn’t happy when she turned down her last job to find her sister, and he made no bones about it. Nor did catching the Gunnysack Bandit earn her any favors with him. The agency was officially off the case and received neither money nor credit for the outlaw’s capture.

The uncertainty of her job accounted for only part of her misery. She had to be out of her mind to turn down Tom’s proposal. What was wrong with her? His being unfaithful in the future couldn’t possibly be any more painful than the loneliness she experienced now. The worst part was his acceptance.

He could have tried to change her mind, fought for her, even. But no, he’d simply left town without saying good-bye. He said he loved her, but what kind of love gives up that easily?

She was right to turn him down. If only it didn’t hurt so much …

A tap sounded at the door, and her heart thudded. Tom? She threw the door open and it was all she could do not to let her disappointment well up in tears. It was Scott Cunningham, the boy who had thrown a brick through Miss Lillian’s window, but he obviously didn’t recognize her.

“A telegram for Miss Gardner,” he said.

“I’m Miss Gardner.” The use of her assumed name told her immediately it was from Pinkerton headquarters. She took the telegram from him and reached into her pocket for a coin. “How’s your father?” Miss Lillian had said she hadn’t seen hide or hair of Mr. Cunningham or any of the men since the night Jennifer read their fortunes. For some odd reason, the madam didn’t seem all that upset about the sudden drop in business.

If Scott was surprised by the question, he didn’t show it. “He’s okay. He and Ma are away on a trip. When they come back, me and him are going fishing,” he said with none of his previous anger.

She smiled and handed him the coin. “Hope you catch some big ones.”

She closed the door and ripped open the telegram. She was being dispatched to Boston to shadow a man suspected of committing a series of bank robberies.

Normally, starting a new assignment filled her with excitement, but today she felt nothing, only numbness. She didn’t need a crystal ball to see that the future that once held so much promise now looked bleak.

Relieved at having something to do—a plan, a goal—she lifted her carpetbag onto the bed and began stuffing it with her few belongings. If she hurried she could still catch the late train out of Goodman.

She was halfway through her packing when it hit her: she didn’t want to go to Boston. She didn’t want to track down yet another criminal. The thought of donning another disguise and pretending to be someone she wasn’t sickened her. She wanted to be the woman reflected in Tom’s eyes. That woman was real and honest and true, the woman God meant her to be.

She didn’t know what she would do, but one thing was clear: her searching days were over.

A loud knock startled her. Puzzled, she opened the door a crack. “Miss Lillian!”

The madam pushed her way into the room, glanced at the carpetbag, and reeled about in a cloud of red taffeta. The feathers on her hat shook like the feathers of an indignant hen. “Thank goodness you haven’t left town yet.”

“I was just getting ready to.”

“You can’t go yet. Not until you do something about Mr. Colton.”

A stabbing pain ripped through her at the sound of Tom’s name. “What are you talking about? He’s gone. He left town.”

“Then who is that sitting in my parlor?”

“What?”

“Been sitting there day and night for five days. Said you ran him off and he’s not leaving until you come to your senses.”

Jennifer stared at her, not sure she’d heard right. “I … I don’t know what to say.”

“Well you better figure it out because I’m at my rope’s end. I can’t get anything done with him there. You put a handsome man like that in a house full of hens and feathers are bound to fly.”

Jennifer blinked. “You’re not saying that Coral and the others are—”

“You can’t blame them for trying.” Miss Lillian lifted a knowing eyebrow. “You love him, and don’t go saying you don’t. It’s written all over your face.”

“Guess that’s what I get for not wearing face paint.”

Miss Lillian made a gesture with her hand. “Trust me, there’s not enough paint in the world to hide the look on your face when I mentioned his name. So why are you being so muleheaded?”

Jennifer threw up her hands. “He didn’t even fight for me. He just took off without a word.”

“Didn’t you hear what I just said? He’s been fighting for you for five days with no end in sight.” Miss Lillian regarded her like a wayward schoolgirl. “You’d be a fool to let him go.”

Jennifer ran her hands up and down her arms. “You once said you couldn’t keep a good man good.”

Miss Lillian looked her straight in the eye, and her expression softened. “Is that what this is all about?”

Jennifer nodded. “After living at the parlor house, I don’t know if I have it in me to trust a man. Any man.”

“You can’t trust just
any
man.” Miss Lillian gave her head a vigorous nod. “But you can trust Tom Colton. Mark my words.”

Jennifer walked into the parlor, and it was just as Miss Lillian had described. Tom sat on a settee, arms folded. Not even his wrinkled clothes and whiskered chin robbed him of his good looks. Her heart leaped at the sight of him.

“Tom, what are you doing here? What’s going on?”

He pushed his hat back and leveled her with his gaze. “You said you couldn’t trust me, so I put myself in temptation’s way to prove that either I’m the dumbest person alive or the most faithful. Take your pick.”

“I vote for dumb,” Coral said, glowering at Jennifer.

Buttercup pushed Coral away. “Just because he didn’t fall for your advances doesn’t mean he’s dumb.” Hand on her chest, she gave a wistful smile. “He loves her.”

Coral rolled her eyes and her mouth puckered in disgust. “Like I said, dumb.”

Jennifer gazed at Tom and couldn’t believe what he’d done. “You’ve been here for five days?”

“And nights,” Miss Lillian added.

Tom gave a sheepish look. “I didn’t know how else to prove that you’re the only woman for me. The only woman I’ll ever love and ever hope to be with.”

Jennifer’s eyes filled with tears. “I—I don’t know what to say.”

Miss Lillian threw her hands up. “Well, you better figure it out or I’m going to have to start charging him rent.”

All eyes turned to Jennifer.

And a cry of pure joy broke from her lips. “Yes!”

All gazes swung back to Tom. “Yes? Does that mean—?”

“It means yes! Yes, I want to marry you.” She closed the distance between them. “It means yes, I want to be your wife.” Somehow she ended up on his lap, her arms around his neck. “It means yes, I love you.”

Polly and Buttercup clapped and Miss Lillian held out her hand. “That will be five dollars, please.”

“For what?” Tom asked.

She pointed to the sign on the wall. “Showing affection is not allowed in the parlor.”

Tom reached into his pocket and placed two five-dollar bills in Miss Lillian’s outstretched hand. “Why so much?” she asked, looking pleased.

For answer, Tom pulled Jennifer close and kissed her soundly, firmly, and oh-so-thoroughly on the lips.

T
he sound of hammering greeted Jennifer as she approached the parlor house on foot. A ladder leaned against the porch roof and a new sign hung from the eaves reading M
ISS
L
ILLIAN’S
P
RIVATE
D
ETECTIVE
A
GENCY AND
F
INE
B
OOTS
.