Sadie's Secret: 3 (The Secret Lives of Will Tucker) (14 page)

“That depends. What would I wish to do or what would I actually be doing?”

“Don’t make me choose. Answer both questions.”

“Only if you will.”

“Agreed.”

Sadie considered her answer a moment and then smiled. “All right. If I had not become a Pinkerton agent, I would probably be auditioning husbands or, more likely, decorating some grand home and planning a nursery. Apparently, that is what my parents believe I was put on earth for.”

“And if you were able to do what you wished?”

“Probably the same, although on my own timetable and not married to a man chosen for me.”

“Chosen for you because your parents care for your future?”

“They do,” Sadie said with another smile. “Alas, I am cursed with a mother and father who love me.”

He met her gaze. “What would you do first, if given your own timetable?”

“Paint.” The word slipped from her mouth unbidden. She’d never told that secret to anyone. Even at the Institute, she had settled for a course of study in art history instead of the more hands-on arts. “I’m awful at it,” she hurried to say. “My skills run more toward the history of art rather than the creation of it.”

“Perhaps with more practice?”

She laughed. “I would only be poor at it rather than awful. No, I’ll keep to the study of ancient Egyptian and Iraqi artifacts and oils by the Old Masters.”

“Egyptian and Iraqi artifacts?” He gave her a sideways look. “Seriously?”

Shrugging, she brushed off his question. “Any course of study in art
history begins with the Egyptians and their cuneiform tablets, hieroglyphic papyri, and such. And one can hardly make a complete study of the era without including the Iraqis.”

“Yes, of course,” he said thoughtfully.

“And you?” she asked, happy to direct the questions back to him and away from herself. “What would you do if not for the career you left back in England?”

He thought only a moment, or so it seemed. “I would probably become a gentleman farmer. Hopelessly boring, I know, but it gives a man a feeling of accomplishment to know he is tilling soil handed down to him through the generations and in the process leaving something for future offspring.”

“That is noble indeed and not the least bit boring. My father is much like you’ve described, only his legacy consists of sugarcane fields and the processing mill he and my brothers keep innovating.”

Further questions would have to wait as the brakes squealed and the conductor passed through the car.

By habit, Sadie searched the faces of those gathered on the platform outside. Though she half expected to see her brothers waiting, she did not expect to find Kyle Russell there.

Before she could gather her things and exit the train, Kyle had climbed aboard. When he noticed Sadie’s companion, he stopped short, eyes narrowed.

“Agent Russell,” Sadie said as she urged him forward. “I would like to introduce you to William Jefferson Tucker.” She turned to Mr. Tucker. “Jefferson Tucker, please meet Kyle Russell, formerly of the Pinkerton Agency.”

“And your escort to Mobile,” Kyle said as he moved close enough to shake the man’s hand.

“Oh? I thought you retired.”

“I did, but Henry can be persuasive.” He looked past her again to the Tucker twin.

“I’m pleased to meet you, Agent Russell,” he said to Kyle. “Unless I am mistaken, your name appears on my brother’s arrest warrant as a witness against him.”

Kyle barely blinked. “You are correct.”

Jefferson held his gaze for a moment and then offered a curt nod. “I hope you understand that while John and I might resemble one another, that resemblance stops at our appearance. We are quite the opposite when it comes to behavior.”

It was Kyle’s turn to nod. “So I understand. You have an impressive record at London Metropolitan. Or do I call it Scotland Yard now?”

“Scotland Yard, according to their letterhead.”

“About that.” Kyle paused to allow a particularly rowdy pair of boys and their parents to slip past in the aisle. “You do look exactly like the man I arrested. My understanding is there was some consideration given to the fact that the state of Louisiana did not release the wrong man.”

“Consideration that was withdrawn when Mr. Tucker and I testified on his behalf,” Sadie offered.

With another appraising look, Kyle’s expression softened. “A pity that hearing took so long.”

“Indeed.” Jefferson Tucker nodded toward the exit. “Before we board the train for Mobile, I need to see that these letters are mailed.”

“Yes, right.” Kyle reached for Sadie’s valise, only to have her step away.

“Thank you, but I can manage this,” she said. “The trunk that will need to be transferred is another matter entirely.”

Kyle shared a laugh with her and then quickly sobered. “You won’t have to transfer, Sadie. This train’s going to New Orleans, and I promised Henry you would be on it.”

“Did you?” It did not escape Sadie’s notice that Mr. Tucker watched their exchange with great interest. “Did you promise Henry anything else?”

“Two things, actually.”

“Oh? And what would those two things be?”

“That I would deliver an envelope for you to read once you’re alone.” He reached into his jacket pocket and retrieved said envelope. The handwriting was unmistakably Henry Smith’s, as was the seal on the back.

“And the other?” she asked as she tucked it into her valise.

“That I would steer clear of your father until the situation with the
Picayune
is remedied to his satisfaction.”

“Really, Kyle? There was no situation with the
Picayune.
Surely Uncle Penn has been able to talk sense into Daddy by now.”

“He hadn’t two days ago when your father paid me a visit to demand I
do right by you and make a public statement denouncing the claims made in the paper.” He paused as if to allow her to take that in. “It was all very civil, really. Apparently, he and my father have a passing acquaintance that goes back several decades.”

Sadie shook her head. Much as she appreciated the depth of her father’s love and protection, the fact that he tended to do such things wore on her. “I’m terribly sorry. He didn’t harm you, did he?”

“No. He neither harmed me nor made any promise of injury I wouldn’t have suggested had a daughter of mine been caught in a similar situation.”

She lowered her voice and leaned toward Kyle. “But there was no
situation
—”

“Those that’s leaving need to go,” the conductor called from the doorway. “Gonna get underway here soon.”

“Sir,” Kyle called to the railroad man. “The lady’s ticket will be changing. Can you see that her trunk remains on the train as far as New Orleans?”

“Sure can, sir. Miss Callum, is it?”

“Yes, that’s right. Should I settle up with you for the additional charge or go down to the station and purchase a new ticket?”

“That’s been taken care of.” Kyle nodded to her valise. “The new ticket is in the envelope.”

Satisfied, the conductor went off in search of Sadie’s trunk, leaving the three of them in the nearly empty railcar. Sadie took advantage of the moment to turn to Mr. Tucker.

“I suppose this is where we part ways.” She offered her hand to shake his. “I wish you the best in whatever it is that you will be doing.”

“Thank you, Miss Callum.” He lifted her hand to his lips and then released his grip. “And thank you again for all you’ve done to secure my release and get my valuables back.”

“About that.” She held up her index finger. “If you’ll wait just one more minute, I have something else for you. I had hoped to give it to you upon my departure from Mobile, but since Agent Russell will be escorting you for the remainder of your journey…”

Sadie reached into her valise, pulled out a gold pocket watch, and then handed it to him.

“But how? It’s impossible that this is the same one and yet…” He shook his head as he weighed the watch in his palm. “It is my watch.”

“The watch that you sold so that you might have weapons should I have need of being protected. Am I wrong?”

He did not deny her claim. Instead, he said, “How did you manage this?”

She pasted on the smile she used when the need to charm a gentleman arose. “Simple, Mr. Tucker,” she said sweetly. “I am a Pinkerton agent. I’ve been taught to do the impossible. Sometimes the impossible requires that I send Sam Fenton out on an after-hours errand to a Baton Rouge gun shop where an item was taken in trade.”

“I cannot allow this. You will be repaid.”

Sadie shook her head. “Never mind that. I am pleased I could manage it. Now, I believe you two have a train to catch.”

“And you have a father to appease.” Kyle offered a commiserating look. “I wish you the best. I should warn you that he is now aware that I am a Pinkerton agent. Or rather, that I recently retired as such—this errand notwithstanding.”

“What did you tell him about me?”

“That you would explain everything when you returned home.” He shrugged. “I thought it best that I not elaborate, as I felt he did not have any idea that his dear defenseless daughter—his words, I might add—was a Pinkerton agent as well.”

Wonderful.

“If it helps, my wife stepped in at that point to tell your father that she holds you in high regard.”

“So Millie was there too? Funny, but I did not get that impression from her the one time we met.”

Rather, the former Mildred Cope had made it quite apparent that she did not appreciate the fact Kyle was seen in public with Sadie. Of course, at the time he and Sadie were conducting Pinkerton business and carrying on the ruse that the two were romantically linked.

“She has since seen the error of her ways and, in fact, would love to get to know you better should your travels take you to New Orleans for longer than just the time it takes for your father to fetch you home.”

“Yes, I would like that very much,” she said and found it was the truth. In her line of work, she met so few women who understood what it was to be a Pinkerton.

Turning his attention to Mr. Tucker, Kyle once again studied the recently released prisoner. “And you’re certain you’re not the man who ought to be behind bars in Angola? You bear a striking resemblance.”

“And yet our mother could always tell us apart. As can Miss Callum.”

Kyle returned his focus to Sadie. “How so?”

“The eyes, for one. This man’s are gray and yet they can look blue. As I recall, your Mr. Tucker’s eyes were gray but under certain circumstances looked green.”

“Green, yes,” Kyle said as he leaned forward to study the former prisoner’s eyes. “And blue they are.” He returned his attention to her. “For now, if you say this is not our suspect, I will bow to your expertise, Sadie. I will, however, have questions of him.”

“I welcome them, Agent Russell,” Mr. Tucker said. “And as such, I will have questions of my own regarding my brother.”

Kyle seemed to consider the statement. “I will tell you what I can.” He turned to Sadie. “We part ways here, Agent Callum.”

“It’s good to see you back at work, Kyle, even if it’s only for a short while,” she told him as she shook his hand.

“I confess I have grown comfortable enjoying my wife and my work in the scientific arts.”

“About that, I am always interested in hearing about your latest breakthroughs in crime fighting technology. Is there anything new to report?”

“There is always something new, although I am not always willing to report it.”

His expression offered a genial smile but his posture told Sadie he wouldn’t be saying anything more with Jefferson Tucker in their midst.

“Fair enough. Please give my best to your wife.” She looked beyond Kyle to Mr. Tucker. “I wish you both a safe journey.”

Mr. Tucker nodded. He seemed poised to speak and then appeared to have thought better of it. His smile became the goodbye that did not find voice.

With the men’s departure, Sadie found herself well and truly alone. Only as the conductor came back through, several passengers following in his wake, did the car return to a lively hum of voices.

She spied Kyle and Mr. Tucker conversing on the platform. The two
looked cordial enough. And yet Sadie knew Kyle’s suspicions would persist until he no longer had his doubts about the man’s identity.

Moving her attention from Kyle to Mr. Tucker, she studied his features. Had she been told this was the man whose stench filled the carriage on the ride to Baton Rouge, she would have argued that it was impossible. Beneath a year’s dirt and unkempt clothing was an extremely handsome man.

A man who had sold his prized watch to see to her protection. And who was awfully pleasant to kiss, now that she thought on it.

He looked up and caught her watching. Rather than offer an innocuous smile or look away, she held his gaze until the whistle blew and steam obscured the platform.

Even as the train lurched forward and Sadie settled in for the last leg of her journey home, she thought of Jefferson Tucker. A pity she had to meet him now. Here. Because of the criminal Will Tucker. For had she seen him across a New Orleans ballroom or caught sight of him in a drawing room in Manhattan or Paris, she might have given him a second glance. Might even have allowed his attentions.