An Agent for Savannah Read online

  An Agent for Savannah

  The Pinkerton Matchmaker Series

  P. Creeden

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Love Western Romance?

  An Agent for Josie

  An Agent for Opal

  A Bride for James

  A Bride for Henry

  An Agent for Savannah © 2019 P. Creeden

  Cover by Virginia McKevitt

  All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Warning: the unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in prison and a fine of $250,000.

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  Chapter 1

  “I think it’s high time you grew up,” Savannah’s father hissed as he ripped the novel from her hands and threw it into the fireplace.

  Pain stabbed through Savannah’s heart, and her stomach twisted. The cover on her novel curled up and flames licked each page beneath. Tears stung the backs of her eyes. How would she ever know how the story finished? How would she cherish and love each word on the page? What would happen to the friends she’d made in the story? How would the heroine solve her mystery?

  “Normal girls do not waste their time reading novels and daydreaming. You should be learning to sew, taking care of children, helping your mother tend to the house.” Her father narrowed his eyes at her, his thinned lips frowning beneath his short-cropped mustache. “You’re already nineteen and not a single man has asked for your hand. I’m beginning to wonder if you’ll be stuck as a spinster living under my roof until I pass.”

  The tears that burned at the back of her eyes blurred her vision momentarily before she blinked and let them slip down her cheeks.

  “Enough of your sniveling, Savannah,” he said as he turned his back on her in the flickering firelight, and the acrid smell of burning paper wafted into the parlor. “Get to your feet and change your ways. I will not have you married after your two younger sisters, and Ruby already has a gentleman caller.”

  Savannah peered up at her father’s back, her knees aching as they pressed against the hardwood floor. No words could make it past the lump in her throat. Even if they could, what would she say? Could she even argue with him? How could she pacify him? What words would resolve this conflict and allow things to go back to how they had always been—where her father paid little attention to her and she spend every moment she could in the escape of a good book? Those moments were precious to her, albeit tenuous of late.

  Swallowing at the lump in her throat, she peered toward the doorway. Her sisters, Hazel and Ruby, both stood behind her mother’s skirts—all three of them watching what their father was doing. Hazel frowned, deep creases forming in her brow. She looked on the verge of saying something sharp to Father but stopped when she met eyes with Savannah and Savannah shook her head slowly.

  Their mother’s eyes were distraught, reflecting how Savannah felt, and it broke Savannah’s heart. Her mother understood. Her mother taught her some of the “wifely duties,” as her father liked to call them, but understood that Savannah also needed time to read and escape. That if she could go on an adventure, Savannah would. Her mother had even told her once in confidence that she would have loved to go out west on an adventure, if she’d not been married at such a young age. It was the reason her mother also never pushed Savannah to marry. But ever since her sister, Ruby, had acquired a suitor, her father pushed Savannah to do the same. It had been four days of walking upon walnut shells whenever he’d been near. Though it had started with simple words and disapproving looks, it had now culminated into action and something akin to violence. Savannah didn’t know if she’d hurt worse had he struck her.

  “Have you nothing to say for yourself?” he grumbled.

  She swallowed and squeezed the words past her clenched throat, saying, “I’m sorry, Father.”

  He turned toward her once more, shaking his head in disappointment, and then dismissed her with a shooing gesture.

  After taking one, last, longing look at the remnant ashes of the dime novel she’d been reading, she drew to her feet and steeled herself, though her knees threatened to buckle under her. Her hands fisted as she took a deep breath, held her head high and took measured steps toward her sisters. Ruby offered her an embarrassed smile while Hazel continued to frown. Savannah patted her youngest sister on the shoulder as she stepped gingerly past them. Hazel placed her hand upon Savannah’s. The two of them looked and thought much more alike than their middle sister, Ruby, even though a mere ten or eleven months separated each of their births. Ruby’s hair was lighter than the other sisters, her skin more delicate, her countenance much more becoming. It was no wonder that she would be the first to receive a gentleman caller, and no one had told their father, yet, that Ruby was not interested in marrying Mr. Brown.

  Tears came unbidden to her eyes again as she squeezed her sister’s hand and continued out of the parlor and turned to go up the stairs.

  “Wait a moment, Savannah. Please come into the kitchen directly,” her mother said in a firm but quiet tone. That was her mother’s way, firm and quiet at all times, even when her father would get angry or irrational.

  Savannah’s foot stopped mid-step, and swiping at her eyes, she turned back around and headed back down the stairs. If she’d just endured a lecture from her father, how would her mother treat her? Her mother often backed whatever Father said, even if it was unreasonable. Would she support her father now? Savannah followed her mother into the kitchen. Both of her sisters attempted to follow, but Mother gave them both a stern look, and they turned about with frowns on their faces. Mother nodded for Savannah to follow and then pushed open the door to the kitchen. She stood with the door open until Savannah came in and then shut the door behind them both.

  “Sit down,” her mother ordered, gesturing toward the chair at the kitchen table.

  Heat rushed to Savannah’s cheeks. Her mother rarely used that tone. A dressing down was likely in the works. But it was unfair. Savannah had done nothing wrong. Why wasn’t her mother taking her side on this? As Savannah sat, Mother frowned down at her, holding the back of a chair a moment, and then she sighed and opened one of the upper cupboards. She reached up at the top for a crock and pulled it down and then came and sat in the chair across from Savannah. Hugging the crock close to her, she finally said, “I had hoped it wouldn’t come to this. But it seems that it’s time.”

  Then she pushed the crock across the table toward Savannah.

  Crinkling her brow at her mother, she pulled the crock closer and then opened it. Inside were several coins and dollar bills. Confused, she asked, “What is this?”

  “My
savings. I want you to go and do what I never had a chance to. Go and answer that advertisement you have saved under your mattress,” Mother whispered.

  Savannah gasped. “You know about that.”

  She nodded and gave Savannah a soft smile. “Of course.”

  “But how? What are you telling me to do? Run away from home?” Savannah whispered, her voice growing hoarse.

  She shook her head. “Ever since I saw that advertisement you hid last year, I’ve been saving money. And I’ve been preparing your father to accept your leaving. I told him that eventually I’d like you to go and stay with my cousin in Denver, and that perhaps there, you could meet a man worthy of you. He hadn’t yet agreed to all the terms, but I will speak to him about it more forcefully tonight. And tomorrow, hopefully, you’ll be on a train and can leave all this unpleasantness behind you.”

  Savannah’s heart ached in her chest. Mother was on her side—had always been on her side. She reached across the table and took hold of her mother’s hands and squeezed them. “Thank you,” she said past the lump in her throat.

  Her mother squeezed her hands back, and then released her, pulled out her kerchief and dabbed at her eyes while moving to stand. “All that I ask is that you stay safe and write me letters on occasion so that I don’t worry about you. Can you do that much for me?”

  As she stood, still clutching the crock to her chest, Savannah nodded back. Yes. She would do that.

  Lucas McKay stepped off the train in Denver, not sure whether the thunderstorm overhead was an ominous sign or not. Dark clouds filled the sky, making four o’clock feel much more like dusk than it should have been in September. Occasionally, a flash of lightning would streak across the sky, both frightening and awe-inspiringly beautiful at once. His chest tightened in response to the terrible wonder as he ducked his head and hoped the rain wouldn’t start while he remained on the platform. He rushed into the railway office, joining the crowd that had already begun packing together in the small space.

  “Stagecoach has room for two more! Two more heading to downtown in a covered wagon. Cost is only two bits!” a voice called from the front near the door.

  Two bits? That was an outrageous sum for the two mile journey, but anything was worth it to not be caught in the rain. But no one answered; no one stepped forward. It seemed that everyone had the same thoughts on the price and would rather wait out the storm in the crowded office instead of shelling out coin for a short ride to town.

  Finally, a young girl with light brown hair fixed in a braid and green-gray eyes stepped forward. She looked young and likely as timid as a church mouse. “Will you be letting off near the women’s boarding house.”

  The stagecoach man nodded, his hat between his hands and his smile saying he’d netted a sucker. “Yes, Miss. We’ll be stopping right near the boarding house. It wouldn’t be much to make sure we let you off near to the door so that you don’t even get your traveling dress wet.”

  She tilted her head, regarded the man and then lifted her chin. “Two bits is too much, though. I’ve got a dime if you’re willing to take it.”

  The man blinked, the smile slipping off his face. For a moment, he ignored her offer, looking around the crowd over her shoulder, searching for a prospect that might actually take him at his outrageous sum.

  Lucas couldn’t help but smile. The girl wasn’t the sucker the man had taken her for, nor was she as timid as Lucas had thought. He stepped up next to her. “If you’ll take a dime for the lady’s seat, I’ll chip in another and take the second seat on the coach as well.”

  The man’s forehead wrinkled as he scowled. He looked about the crowd again, but it didn’t seem that anyone wanted to crowd into a stagecoach for two bits just to stay out of the rain. He huffed. “Fine. Two dimes for two riders. We’re leaving now. Let’s go.”

  He put out his palm and both the lady and Lucas set their dimes into it half a second before the man balled his hand into a fist. They followed him back outside into the overcast darkness. The thunder rolled, and petrichor filled the air. When they reached the coach, the man didn’t even stop to open the door or help the lady in, so Lucas took it upon himself to do so. Her small gloved hand fit into Lucas’s perfectly, the warmth of her fingers making it past the thin fabric and seeping into his palm. And when her gaze met his, his heart skipped a beat. Smart and pretty. Lucas knew that could be a deadly combination. He swallowed hard as he followed her up into the carriage.

  Unfortunately, and as everyone in the crowd had likely suspected, the coach was overstuffed. Six people already sat across the benches. There weren’t enough seats for either of the two of them who’d mounted the carriage last. Lucas frowned, taking hold of the strap fastened to the top of the door. He nodded to the woman standing, and she did the same to the other side. Without preamble, the coach began to sway and jostle.

  Lucas huffed a laugh. “At least it’s only a short journey to town.”

  The woman nodded and offered him a thin-lipped but polite smile.

  He nodded back. “I’m Lucas, by the way, Lucas McKay.”

  The woman lifted a brow toward him, as if unsure she should tell him her name. He tried to make his expression as soft as he could, inviting her to trust him. She sighed softly and then said, “Savannah Lockwood.”

  Just then fat droplets of rain pelted the carriage, drowning out all sound with its constant roar.

  Chapter 2

  Savannah Lockwood watched the blurred world outside the carriage as the coach traveled through the gray streets of Denver. Her first impression of the city would be one covered in a pale pallor. She abhorred the rain—not all the time. She loved it when it would pour like this while she was in the parlor of her home in Connecticut with a good book and a warm fireplace. Where she could only hear it beat against the windows in a distant, unobtrusive manner. But here, it manifested itself as an obstacle, making it impossible for Savannah to gain an unobstructed view of the city she’d only daydreamed about. Though the ride jostled her frequently, she held the strap and kept her knees flexible so she didn’t fall on any of the passengers in the stagecoach.

  When the stagecoach pulled to a stop in front of a building, each of the passengers looked outside in the dreary rain to figure out what building they stood in front of. Savannah joined them, even though she was unsure what the boarding house her mother had made arrangements to stay at might look like. Outside, the heavy rain had receded to just a drizzle. Still dreary, not the best of conditions, but it wouldn’t be so bad for the people dismounting the carriage.

  The gentleman who’d gotten on the stagecoach at the same time as Savannah, Mr. McKay, leaned back and toward her. “This looks to be your stop. You said you were heading to the ladies’ boarding house?”

  She swallowed and nodded. One of the other women on the carriage leaned forward upon hearing Mr. McKay’s words. “Did you say this is the ladies’ boarding house?”

  Mr. McKay looked toward her as he opened the carriage door and stepped down off the coach. “Yes, miss. I did.”

  Like a true gentleman, Mr. McKay doffed his hat and then held the door open and offered Savannah a hand to dismount the carriage, even though the weather outside was dreary and wet. His shoulders soon darkened from the excess of rain that fell upon them. Swallowing hard, Savannah took the man’s hand and dismounted the carriage. Once she’d stepped down, Mr. McKay released her hand and then offered it to the other female passenger who’d asked if it was the boarding house.

  Savannah thanked the man once he met her eyes again and then headed up the front steps of the boarding house, anxious to get out of the weather. The other passenger followed. Once they’d stepped inside the doorway, Savannah looked back through the window beside the door and watched Mr. McKay mount the carriage once more and disappear within. The stagecoach moved forward through the wet streets. Denver was a large city for the west, she could see it was already bigger than her home town of Meriden, perhaps even bigger than Hartford. The likelihood of
her seeing the gentleman again was low, and for some reason it made her a bit sad.

  She sighed and turned about, nearly running into the dark, curly haired young lady who stood in the doorway with her. Savannah blinked. “Oh! Excuse me. I didn’t know you’d be standing there.”

  The lady smiled brightly. “I was waiting for you. That gentleman is quite fetching, isn’t he?”

  Why did Savannah suddenly feel flustered at the question. She fanned herself. “Oh, was he? I hadn’t noticed.”

  The young lady’s smile widened and she offered her hand like a gentleman would to another man. “Of course not. I’m Adelaide, by the way.”

  “Savannah.” She took Adelaide’s offered hand.

  The two of them shook hands, and Savannah was glad to say that Adelaide’s grip was strong and sure, just like Savannah’s own. Something about the girl reminded Savannah of her youngest sister Hazel. Perhaps it was the spark of strong personality the lady seemed to have bubbling just under the surface of her happy facade.

  “Even though I won’t be staying for long, and I don’t know your plans, do you think we could ask to room together? I’d rather have the stranger I know than the stranger I don’t, if you know what I mean.” Adelaide asked with a tilted head.

  Relief flooded over Savannah. “Yes. That’s would be lovely.”

  “Excellent!” Adelaide cried and immediately looped her arm into Savannah’s. Yes. She was a great deal like her youngest sister, Hazel.

  The two of them stepped up to the desk in the foyer as the older lady behind the counter lifted her head. “I’m afraid we’re full unless you have a reservation.”