An Agent for Ruby (The Pinkerton Matchmaker Book 50)

  An Agent for Ruby

  The Pinkerton Matchmaker

  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

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  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 Ruby © 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

  April 1873

  Ruby Lockwood had always hated that she was considered the pretty one. Not the smart one, like her sister Savannah, or the talented one, like her sister, Hazel. No. She had to be considered something useless, even dangerous—the pretty one.

  Dangerous?

  Was that too strong a word? Ruby didn’t think so. Not when she was a young child and the boys wouldn’t stop picking on her, pulling her pigtails or even pinching her and running away. Not when she was trying to finish her education at Vassar Women’s College—where she found that men would follow her on the streets of Poughkeepsie, New York, in hopes of gaining her attention. When cat-calls and rough men felt it necessary to greet her when she had shown no interest in them. Dangerous, because upon her rejection, some men responded in a manner unbecoming of a gentleman. Some threatened violence and made her feel uncomfortable. And this had gone on long enough, so that Ruby never felt comfortable with any man alone without a family member or other people about.

  And it had been worse than this as Ruby had grown up. Because she was a bit different, even her own sisters banded together and left her out on many occasions. They often said they had much more in common with each other than with Ruby—more than just the fact that Ruby was fairer and more delicate than them. As the middle sister, Ruby was closer in age to each of them, and yet, they both claimed a kinship with one another that she could never breach. At school, many young women kept their distance from her because their suitors would spurn them because of an attraction to Ruby. She’d gotten quite used to being alone.

  As much as Ruby had been taught not to hate anyone, she didn’t. But she hated the way that everyone treated her, and she’d often daydreamed about what it might be like to blend in with the crowd and go unnoticed. Even for one day.

  “Ruby, please come in here,” her father called from the parlor.

  Wringing her hands, Ruby swallowed hard, forcing her feet to take each measured step. Mr. Elliot Brown had been meeting with her father for the last half an hour. It was the fourth time that he’d come by to either meet with him or to stay for dinner in the two weeks since winter had thawed, and the spring had started. But he’d made his intentions known from the beginning, five months ago. He wanted to make Ruby his wife, even though he was twelve years her senior. Slowly, Ruby entered the room, cultivating a bored expression in the hopes that Mr. Brown would understand her disinterest without her having to express it. Sometimes this worked with men. But with Mr. Brown, it did not.

  “Mr. Brown would like to take you on a short stroll through the park before dinner,” her father said. “I’ve approved it to be unchaperoned since you will be not more than a few yards from our doorstep and the jaunt will be short.”

  Immediately, Ruby’s heart began to race. Unchaperoned. That was one word she dreaded above almost all others. Her hands fisted at her sides as she peered up at the wolfish grin the man wore. As if he’d won. As if she were a prize or an object that he’d finally acquired from her father. She clenched her back teeth at the thought. She was not any of those things but if Mr. Brown wanted to take her for a walk through the park, she’d allow him this once. And in the end, she hoped he’d never want to see her again.

  Overhead, clouds had gathered, and the wind picked up a bit, showing that spring had not yet fully come to Connecticut, even though some of the perennials had already sprouted through the earth. The groundhog might have predicted an early spring, but the wind about them denied that claim.

  “Are you warm enough, Miss Lockwood?” the gentleman asked.

  “I am,” she said as stiffly as she held her spine and then drew her shawl tightly around her shoulders.

  He had attempted to draw nearer to her on the walk, but Ruby kept her distance. She didn’t want him to feel that she accepted a single one of his advances. The man looked at her with greedy eyes that showed designs that she didn’t like and would prefer he didn’t try to act upon. He cleared his throat when they drew near the park bench. “Would you like to sit for a moment, Miss Lockwood?”

  “I’d rather stand,” she said and then continued walking even though he’d hesitated in an attempt to stop.

  When she felt a hand upon her shoulder, she’d nearly screamed. She’d nearly drawn her derringer from the pocket her mother had sewn in her skirts and pulled the trigger. She flinched from his touch and backed away, glaring at him. He held his hands up in a pose of surrender, but his lips drew thin as he narrowed his own gaze upon her. “I’m trying to my best here to be polite and gracious. Could you not be congenial for a moment and comply with my meager request. It’s quite frustrating that you reject my every advance when your father has practically already given me permission to seek your hand in marriage.”

  Ruby blinked hard and stifled a gasp. “My father did not. I refuse to believe that he would do such a thing without at least talking to me first.”

  His wolfish grin returned. “Your father would like for his bank to do business with my company. To do so, he knows that he needs to keep me happy. And nothing would keep me happier than for you to become my wife.”

  Bile rose up Ruby’s throat. This man was no gentleman, just as she’d suspected. He was a wolf who was attempting to use his business connections in order to push her father into accepting his proposal. It made her sick to her stomach to think that a man such as this would be so bold. She couldn’t dare let him. With a hand raising to her forehead, she wavered where she stood, letting a groan escape her lips.

  He caught her. Even though his hands burned where they touched her waist and glove, she didn’t recoil the way she wanted to. “Oh, Mr. Brown. I’m so sorry. I believe I’m a bit under the weather. Please hold my hand and help me return home?”

  He blinked, his eyes going from incredulous to uncertain. Just as she’d planned. She knew that by allowing the man to touch her, he would not
feel the utter rejection that he would if she’d just tried to leave. He wouldn’t have believed her sudden illness was true. But because she was asking him to keep contact with her, it felt like she wasn’t denying him, but accepting him, no matter what words came out of her mouth. That was what she needed to do in order to survive this moment. As much as his touch made her nauseous, she needed to accept it while she considered her next step. She swallowed hard as her home came back into view, and forced herself not to pull from his grip and run. No, that wasn’t what she should do next, but the honest truth was, she didn’t know what her next move should be.

  John Mark Lee ducked just before the glass bottle thrown at him smashed into his face. Instead, it shattered against the saloon wall behind him. He swallowed down a curse and then peered over the bar again, carefully, and ready to duck again if the need arose.

  “If I don’t get what’s coming to me,” the wild-haired saloon girl screamed at the top of her lungs, “then I will tear this place down with my own bear hands!”

  More glasses smashed against walls and the bar. Bottles crashed against the hardwood floor as men scrambled from their seats and either left the building or took cover behind tables and chairs. The woman held a knife in one hand and grabbed hold of anything breakable in the other as she threw things in all directions.

  “Where’s the sheriff when you need him?” the bartender asked as he took cover behind his bar. Then the man spied John Mark’s side arm. “Do something, would you?

  John Mark shook his head. “What do you expect me to do? Shoot her? I can’t do that.”

  The bartender frowned but nodded in understanding. The woman screamed impossibly louder, hitting notes that would make an opera singer jealous. Maybe the bartender was right, John Mark thought as he rested a hand on his weapon. Maybe he could somehow get out of this by brandishing his gun but not actually using it. He took a deep breath and adjusted his palm on the handle of his pistol. Slowly, he stood and pushed his duster to the side so that his Pinkerton badge showed on his chest. Then he pursed his lips together and let out a high-pitched whistle.

  Curly red hair went in all directions from the madwoman’s once pretty face. Black streaks mixed with the red of her cheeks and spoiled her make up. She stopped screaming long enough to fix her gaze upon John Mark.

  “In the name of the law, I’m going to have to ask you to settle down, ma’am,” he finally said in his deep, commanding voice.

  The woman narrowed her eyes at him. “You ain’t the sheriff.”

  Slowly he shook his head. “No, ma’am, but I still represent the law as a Pinkerton Agent. Now, how about we settle whatever this is going on with our words instead of with violence?”

  She held her knife in a tighter grip and then swung it in John Mark’s direction, even though he was halfway across the room. Then her eyes darted between him and the bartender since they were standing on the same side of the bar. “You’re on Tom’s side, ain’t you? You’re standing right next to him. He stole from me, and I refuse to abide that.”

  With his hands raised up, John Mark came out from behind the bar. “No ma’am. I am not on anyone’s side. Like I said, I’m a Pinkerton Agent. I am on the side of justice, alone. You want justice, don’t you?”

  Her shoulder’s fell as confusion flickered across her face. Then she nodded. “Justice?”

  “Tell me what’s happened to you here, and we’ll make sure that the punishment fits the crime, all right? What happened?”

  “I been working at this saloon for three years. Three years! Groveling and scraping by keeping my head down and suffering the scorn and disrespect of regular townsfolk for my line of work. But it was all for my daughter, Susie. I set aside every dime I made that I didn’t absolutely need. The first of every month, I’d pack it away in a small parcel and then send it to my mother-in-law who is caring for my darling Susie. But then... then... I found out that thief right there, Tom Dooley has been keeping the packages for himself for the past four months! Four months!” She sobbed. “What if my daughter has been starving? What if my mother-in-law hasn’t been able to provide for her like she should have. Ten or twelve dollars a month might not seem like much to some folks but it was all the money I had... all the money I could send home. And that fiend has been intercepting it!”

  All eyes turned on the bartender. He lifted a brow and tucked in his chin, cleared his throat and shook his head. “I don’t know what she’s talking about. She’s crazy.”

  Another screech pierced the air as the woman dove in the direction of the bar. With her knife hand out in front of her this time, she presented an easy posture for disarming. And John Mark wouldn’t let the opportunity go to waste. In two long steps he leapt forward and grabbed hold of the woman’s wrist. He squeezed it between his fingers and twisted it just a little. Her tiny wrist felt like a child’s in his, so he purposefully held back his strength, hoping that the pressure he did use would be enough to get the job done.

  It did.

  The woman let out another screech as the knife fell from her hand and then she put her attention back on John Mark. She clawed at the arm that held her wrist, her fingers searching for purchase, for bare flesh to tear at. Then she raised her sights higher, and her free, clawed hand came directly for John Mark’s face. Using his other hand, he crossed it over his arm and grabbed hold of her wrist and then pulled both of her arms down and together. The woman’s eyes went wide and wild as she screamed directly at him, inches from his ear. He winced at the sound and at the smell of whiskey on her breath. She’d been drinking. Of course she had. It was one of the reasons she’d gone this wild, he was sure.

  But he was also just as sure that the story she told had at least some truth in it. With a firm voice, he said, “Now, as I said... Let’s all calm down and see if we can’t settle this and get justice.”

  Chapter 2

  The moment Ruby entered her house, she put a hand upon Mr. Brown’s and squeezed it between her gloved fingers. “Thank you so much for escorting me. Please forgive me for my ailment.”

  Even though his brows knit together in confusion, Ruby knew this was a good thing. It meant he wasn’t angry or feeling rejection. It meant that for now she was safe from his wrath and ungentlemanly behavior. That was all that she wanted. The moment her mother entered the foyer, Ruby pulled from the man’s grasp, letting out a soft sigh of relief.

  Once she’d gotten to her mother, she leaned in toward her. “I’m feeling a bit under the weather, Mother. I’ve had a dizzy spell. I don’t believe I’ll be able to attend dinner. Please give Father my apologies?”

  Her mother raised a brow but nodded and then stepped forward and took Mr. Brown by the hands. “I’m so sorry that my precious Ruby will be unable to attend dinner. You’ll stay, won’t you. We’ve got a fine roast just about ready along with some darling small potatoes. It will be delicious, I assure you...”

  Inwardly, she thanked her mother for reading between the lines. Her mother’s excessive enthusiasm would be a welcome distraction for the man whom Ruby hoped she would somehow never have to meet with again. She held her skirts up high enough that she wouldn’t step on the hem as she rushed up the steps to the second floor of their house. When she entered the bedroom she and her two sisters had shared, she was surprised to find Hazel sitting on her bed. Ruby blinked. “What are you doing there? Why are you on my bed?”

  Hazel looked up and shook her head. “I don’t understand.”

  Tilting her head, Ruby asked, “Understand what?”

  Slowly, Hazel set a parcel upon Ruby’s nightstand. “This. I don’t understand why Savannah would send this to you and not send me anything. She’s been gone for four months. She suddenly got married, and lets the family know through a telegram. Now she sent you a package, but didn’t even give me so much as a letter?”

  A shiver went through Ruby at the icy glare her younger sister leveled upon her. Ruby set her jaw. “I don’t understand why you’re looking at me that way. It’s
not as if this is my fault. Did I tell Savannah to send me a parcel and neglect you? Was I the one who put her up to it? It seems to me that your glare is quite misplaced.”

  Hazel drew in a sharp breath and then blew it out her nostrils just as sharply. Her lips pursed as she stood, blinked and turned away. It may not have been an apology, but it was an acknowledgement of the truth in what Ruby had said, and that was enough for her right now. Tears stung the backs of Ruby’s eyes as she rushed forward and threw herself upon the bed. She pulled her pillow closer to her and stuffed her face in it. A cry had been itching to be let out of the back of her throat for the last hour or more. She let it go, letting her scream get muffled by the soft down that stuffed the cushion. Once she’d let out the cry, she felt her tears wet the case that covered it.

  Slowly she turned over onto her back and found Hazel staring down at her with worry in her eyes. The hatred that was there a moment before had disappeared entirely. “What is wrong?”

  At the thought of just speaking, a lump formed in Ruby’s throat and the tears slipped over her cheeks and stung her eyes. She shook her head because she couldn’t say it. It hurt too much deep in her chest for her to express exactly what she felt. It wasn’t just that she was an object of Mr. Brown’s obsession to possesses. After everything was said and done, she was an object to everyone. An object of hatred for her sister. An object to be traded or bargained for by her father. And she was so tired of being defined by what other people decided for her.

  To her surprise, Hazel sat down on her bed and took her hand in hers. “I didn’t mean to imply that Savannah’s parcel was your fault. I was just frustrated and taking out my anger at my eldest sister upon you. It was unfair of me, and I’m sorry.” She paused and swallowed. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you cry before.”