An Agent for Esme Page 8

  She felt around until she located a likely spot, then began sawing with her knife. Despite the fact that her blade was sharp, this was going to take a while.

  “How long have you been here?” she whispered as she worked.

  “About a month, I guess,” he replied. “Bleaker had to put someone on the case so it would look like he was doing his job, so he put me to work on it. I guess I wasn’t as stupid as he thought I was because I did figure it out—he and Garcia have been working together this whole time. I couldn’t go to the police because they’ve been paid off, and I suspected that at least four of the Pinkerton agents were also on the payroll, possibly more. The only thing I could do was confront Bleaker and hope for the best. Well, this is where I ended up, and this certainly wasn’t the best.”

  Esmerelda could feel the rope fibers giving way under her fingers, but it wasn’t going fast enough for her liking. “Why did Bleaker contact us when you went missing?” she asked. “Why not just sweep your disappearance under the rug?” She paused. “For that matter, why are you still alive?”

  “I have no idea why I’m alive. I’ve asked myself that every day, especially since I’m of no real use to them. As far as contacting you, I’m sure that was all for the sake of appearances too. He has to look like he’s doing his job or it will seem suspicious.”

  “And he must have thought we’d be easy to fool too.” She thought back to what she’d overheard, how Bleaker was going to send them on a wild goose chase. Would they have fallen for it? She’d like to think not, but then again, it’s not every day that a fellow agent lies to you.

  “All right, listen,” she whispered. “When this rope comes loose, we’re going to slip out of the tent the way I came in. We’re going to tiptoe around the camp and meet my partner on the other side. Do you have the strength to do that?”

  “Yes. I’ve been able to walk around a bit—my rope is long, and I’ve been able to stay mobile.”

  “Good. Now, you said there’s more rope stored in this tent. Do you remember where?”

  “Yes—it’s over against the wall there.”

  “Excellent. Your job will be to find as much as you can and bring it out of the tent with you, all right? We might need it. Is there anything else in here that could be useful?”

  “I don’t think so—just a couple of tents.”

  “All right. And here we go.” With a final slice of the knife, the rope had been severed. “You’re a free man, Agent White. Grab that extra rope and follow me.”

  Esmerelda found her way back to the slit in the tent, stepped through, and held it wide while Agent White climbed out, his arms laden. She took one of the coils and led the way as they crept farther back into the woods, then crept around the circumference of the camp to where Matthew was waiting for them. Without a word, he guided them to the rock outcropping, where they all three collapsed.

  “I’m Agent Harrison,” Matthew whispered after a long minute, reaching over to shake Agent White’s hand. “But I’m going to call you Robert. It’s easier. I’m Matthew, this is Esme, and it’s nice to meet you.”

  “Likewise.” It was hard to make out Robert’s features in the moonlight, but at least now that they were no longer in the tent, Esme could see him at all. “I can’t thank you enough for coming.”

  Matthew gave him a nod. “All right, we need to decide what we’re going to do. Esme, did you hear what Bleaker was saying about tomorrow’s shipment?”

  “Yes, I did. As I see it, we have two choices. We ambush that shipment and make a bigger arrest, or we wait until everyone’s asleep and tie them up. We brought rope.”

  Matthew smiled. “Rope, you say?”

  “We’re just working with what we have. Our biggest problem is manpower. There are only three of us, and that’s not going to change.”

  Matthew turned to Robert. “Are there any agents or police officers left that you trust?”

  “I don’t trust anyone anymore. Except . . .”

  “Except what?” Esmerelda asked, finding it hard to keep her voice to a whisper.

  “There’s a small army fort five miles from here. They’ve been apprised of the rumors of a possible uprising, but they haven’t gotten involved in the investigation because they believed we were handling it. Everyone thought we were handling it.” White shook his head and cleared his throat. “At any rate, if we could get word to them, they could be the backup we need.”

  “And of course, Bleaker never mentioned the presence of the Army in this area.” Esmerelda shook her head. “Gracious, that man is annoying.”

  Matthew chuckled, then grew serious again immediately. “We need to act quickly. It won’t be long before they discover that Robert’s escaped, and they’ll start searching for him. Esme, can you ride to the fort and get help?”

  “Of course,” she replied.

  “Good. Robert, you and I will go back to the camp and wait until everyone’s gone to bed. Then we’ll go in their tents, tie them up with this spare rope, and guard them until Esme returns. With any luck, the shipment will carry on as planned, but the Army will be here to stop it.”

  Robert nodded. “What about Mrs. Ridges and the children? They’ve done their best by me, as much as they were able.”

  “We’ll see to it that they’re treated as fairly as possible.”

  “Thank you. I appreciate that.”

  Matthew reached into his jacket, pulled out a second pistol, and handed it to Robert. Then he turned to Esme. “Ride fast,” he said. “We’ll be watching the camp, so ride fast and hard—don’t worry about making noise because we’ll shoot anyone who tries to follow you.” He didn’t say it, but she knew what he wanted to say—their fate rested in her hands. She felt the responsibility of that very keenly.

  “I’ll be back as soon as I can,” she replied. She turned to go, but his voice stopped her.

  “Esme?”

  She turned back, expecting him to speak, but instead, he took her face between his hands and kissed her. It was entirely unexpected, but not at all unwelcome, and her heart gave an extra thump or two before he finally let her go. “Be careful,” he whispered, and she gave a nod before heading out into the darkness.

  It wasn’t easy finding her way back to the horses. Clouds kept drifting across the moon, and it was only a quarter moon without much light anyway. But she did keep from spraining her ankle, and once she found the horses and had mounted hers, she breathed just a little easier. Her horse seemed to understand her urgency and took off at a gallop as soon as she flicked the reins, heading in the direction Robert had told her to go.

  She wanted to daydream about that kiss, but that would have to wait until later. It was likely just a spontaneous thing anyway, a reaction to a moment of stress. When she saw Matthew again, he’d probably act as though nothing had happened, and she’d be all right with that. She knew that people did regrettable things when they were afraid for their lives.

  Oh, but she hoped he wasn’t regretting it.

  Ahem. Pushing the thought from her mind, she crouched low over the horse’s neck and encouraged it to go even faster, her skirts fluttering every which way. They weren’t riding skirts, but what did that matter? It was dark, and she had lives to save. She’d worry about propriety some other time.

  ***

  Matthew and Robert waited until the camp was still. Neither Bleaker nor Ridges had gone into Robert’s tent to check on him—they likely figured that was Mrs. Ridges’ job anyway and somewhat beneath them. Bleaker had gone to bed in the third tent and Ridges stayed by the fire, supposedly to stand guard, but his head kept drooping down to his chest, making this task seem almost ridiculously easy.

  Matthew formed a loop out of one end of rope, crept up behind Ridges and lassoed him with it, bringing his arms tight against his body before the man even had a chance to react. He did call out, though, before Robert was able to force a gag into his mouth, and it was only a couple of seconds before Bleaker came back out of his tent, his pistol at the
ready.

  Matthew left Robert to finish tying up Ridges, pulling his own gun and training it on Bleaker. “Drop your weapon.”

  “That’s funny. I was just about to say that to you.” Bleaker glanced over at Ridges, now trussed up like a holiday turkey ready for the oven. “I told you that wife of yours was going to cause some trouble.”

  Ridges couldn’t reply, but he strained against his bonds.

  “Don’t blame Mrs. Ridges. We already knew something was wrong before we ever encountered her,” Matthew replied. “Why don’t you hand over the gun, Bleaker? You’re already in a world of trouble—at least do one thing right in this whole mess.”

  “I am already in a world of trouble—what’s a little more?” Bleaker chuckled. “You don’t understand how things work down here, Harrison. Law enforcement is a joke. There’s no such thing as doing what’s right—right doesn’t exist. It’s every man for himself, and if you can find a way to get ahead, you should take it. I’d offer you a cut of the deal, but I have a feeling you’re too righteous to take it.”

  “Just how many ways are you trying cut that pie, Bleaker? You keep bringing people in on the deal, and soon there will only be crumbs to go around.” Matthew shook his head. “I don’t know about being righteous, but I’m definitely not interested. The kind of life you’re leading holds no interest for me.”

  “Well, that’s a shame.” Bleaker almost seemed sorry, but it didn’t last long. “I hate to see it end this way, but I’ve come too far to give up now.” He raised his pistol, but before he could bring it fully into position, Matthew saw a flash of movement from the corner of his eye, and Robert tackled Bleaker to the ground.

  Only startled momentarily, Matthew leaped forward and disarmed Bleaker, then dodged out of the way to avoid a flying fist. Robert was not lucky enough to escape that fist, however, and it caught him in the temple, sending him staggering backwards.

  Matthew took advantage of the moment to land a punch of his own, connecting with Bleaker’s jaw. The man lost his balance and fell, and within seconds, Matthew had his arms bound up behind him.

  “Let’s put these men in my tent,” Robert suggested. He grabbed a lantern off a nearby tree stump and led the way, pushing back the flap and showing Matthew where he’d been tied up for the last month. Matthew was glad the rope they’d used on Bleaker and Ridges wasn’t as thick as the rope used on Robert—sure made it easier to tie them up. They pushed their captives into the tent and made sure they were secure, tethering them to the center pole in a clear case of turnabout is fair play, then took up guard positions outside, waiting for Esme to return.

  Mrs. Ridges slowly peered out of her tent, her hair coming loose from her braid. “Am . . . Am I in trouble?” she asked fearfully. “Please remember my little ones—don’t take me away from my little ones.”

  “Whatever happens, we’ll make sure your children are safe and cared for,” Matthew promised her. Until he knew the level of her involvement, he couldn’t promise more than that, but he would do everything that was in his power.

  Chapter Eight

  “Colonel Lowe, I simply don’t have time for your questions and your protocols. Either dispatch some of your men to come to my aid or I’ll leave and take care of matters myself. I’ve told you everything I can about the case, I refuse to be asked all the same questions over again, and I’m starting to regret coming here in the first place!”

  Colonel Lowe looked like a man who had been dragged from his bed late at night by an overexcited woman telling stories of gun sales and captives in tents and rogue Pinkerton agents. He had every right to look that way, but his responsibility now was to hear her out, which he was not doing.

  “I would love to be of assistance, young lady, but I’ve never even heard of a female Pinkerton agent before, and there are some elements of your story that just don’t make sense to me.”

  “Isn’t it your job to protect the citizens of the United States of America?”

  “Well, certainly.”

  “I’m a citizen. My partner and my fellow agent are citizens. Other citizens will be in danger if you don’t take action now.” This was the most exasperating conversation she’d ever had in her life. How could she make him understand? She glanced around, and her eye fell on a deck of playing cards on the edge of the colonel’s desk. “Are you a gambling man, Colonel?”

  He seemed a bit embarrassed. “I have to admit, I do indulge in the game from time to time. Don’t tell Mrs. Lowe, though—she thinks I kicked the habit years ago.”

  “How would you feel about a small wager?”

  He sat up a little straighter. “Are you proposing a bet, young lady?”

  “Yes, I am.”

  “Well now, I’m intrigued. What sort of bet?”

  “I . . .” Now she had to come up with something. Think . . . think . . . “I bet you that I can shoot a bottle off a tree stump at a hundred yards on the first bullet.”

  “That would be impressive. What’s your wager?”

  “If I can do it, you’ll send ten men with me, no more questions asked. And if I can’t, I’ll leave immediately and you’ll never hear another word from me again.” She paused. “But there’s one more thing.”

  “Oh? What’s that?”

  “I’m sure you’ve noticed it’s dark outside.”

  “That’s right. It won’t be dawn for a little while yet.”

  “Have you ever seen someone shoot a bottle in the dark?”

  The colonel threw his head back and laughed. “You don’t intend to try, do you? That’s just plain silliness! Wait until morning—humiliate yourself then.”

  She smiled. “Let’s do it now. Right now, before the sun has even begun to touch the sky. That’s how confident I am, Colonel, and that’s how badly I need your help. If you won’t send it willingly, I’ll risk my humiliation, but you should know, I won’t be the one losing this bet.”

  “We’ll see.” He stood up, chuckling. “I have to hand it to you—you’ve got a lot of spunk.”

  “Yes, sir, I do.”

  They walked outside, and the colonel sent his aide—also woken up from a deep sleep—to fetch a bottle. They located a fence post that would hold the bottle at a good height, and then they counted off a hundred yards.

  “It’s pretty dark, miss,” the aide said. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

  “I’m more sure than I’ve been of anything in a long while,” she replied. “Now, one more thing.”

  “I’m getting a little tired of your one more things,” the colonel said. “When will you actually shoot the bottle?”

  “In a minute. I just need your aide to walk over there, stand directly behind the bottle, and say something. Then he should run like his heels are on fire.”

  “You . . . you want me to go stand by the bottle?” The young man looked as though he might be sick.

  “Yes, but I promise not to shoot immediately.”

  He looked at the colonel, who gave him a nod, and then he trotted off. A moment later, Esmerelda heard his voice. “What do you want me to say?”

  “Are you directly behind the bottle?”

  “Yes, ma’am. Now, what am I supposed to say?”

  “That was perfect. Now get out of there.”

  She waited until she heard his footsteps scurrying off, then she raised her pistol and shot. The sound of shattering glass reached her ears, and she turned to the colonel with a smile. “How many men will you be sending with me, sir? Shall I plan on ten or fifteen?”

  “Fifteen,” he said, spluttering.

  “Perfect. Please have them out front ready to ride in ten minutes.”

  ***

  Archibald Gordon sat at his desk in the Denver Pinkerton office, his desk covered in telegrams, his face grim. “What the two of you have discovered sent ripples of shock through the entire agency,” he said. “Never before have we experienced this level of corruption. The Santa Fe office has been closed, as I’m sure you can imagine, and will not be
opened again until everything is sorted out. Each and every agent is being investigated, no exceptions. All the cases that were currently on their roster have been turned over to other agencies. The police are also under investigation by other law enforcement agencies. All this was put in place as you traveled back from New Mexico—we’ve been very busy over the last couple of days.”

  He leaned forward and studied them across his desk. “The most important thing for you to know is how proud we are of you. Your service to this agency and to your country has been superlative, and the way you sacrificed your own lives to uncover this corruption—I honestly couldn’t have asked for any more from my operatives.”

  Matthew felt his chest grow warm at the praise. “Thank you, sir. That means a lot.”

  Esmerelda nodded. “Yes, it certainly does, Agent Gordon. Thank you.”

  Archie leaned back in his chair. “You’ll be glad to hear that the Army was able to intercept that shipment, and Pedro Garcia has been arrested. Colonel Lowe was disappointed that you didn’t stay around for that part, Agent Carter, and asked that you be given a message.”

  “Oh? What sort of message?”

  Archie checked the telegram sitting right in front of him. “It seems that if you’re ever in need of work, you’re to contact him immediately. He was rather impressed by you. Is it true that you shot a bottle at a hundred yards in the dark?”

  She blushed prettily. “It’s just a little trick I learned some years back, sir. Nothing all that special.”

  “I should think it was plenty special,” Matthew said. “I’m sorry to have missed it.”

  “Perhaps we’ll prevail upon her for a demonstration later,” Archie interjected.

  “Sir,” Esme said before any such plans could be made, “do we know who hired the Santa Fe Pinkertons? That question has been burning in the back of my mind for days now.”

  “Actually, yes.” Archie looked at the two of them. “You’re sworn to secrecy, mind you.”

  “Of course,” Matthew replied, and Esme nodded.

  “It was the wife of the Santa Fe police chief. She’d suspected for some time that her husband was doing something illegal, but she was afraid to dig too deeply on her own. She’s gone to live with her mother back east and she doesn’t want her name connected with this case in any way.”