An Agent
for
Genevieve
Pinkerton Matchmaker Series #62
Marlene Bierworth
Copyright © 2020 Marlene Bierworth
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without written permission of the author, Marlene Bierworth, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
Disclaimer
This book is a work of fiction. Names, places, character and events are the product of the author’s imagination. While the author has tried to be historically correct, her goals in this book are great characters and storytelling. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locals, is purely coincidental.
About the Series
Although this is a work of fiction, Lady Pinkerton Detectives historically played a strong role alongside their tough male agents to keep the peace in the wild west. This series is wrought with lots of excitement and danger, the partnerships birthing many wonderful romances. Each book is a standalone story and can be read in any order.
From the Author
Genevieve Trafton is the dreaded spinster and refuses to share the family farm with her brother’s new bride. When Nick, the oldest leaves home unexpectedly, she decides it is time for her to move on as well. The promise of a job filled with adventure and travel entices her to join the ranks of the Pinkerton Agency.
In one day, her status goes from a bored work at home spinster to an excited, detective trainee and wife. They are given a routine missing person case to get her feet wet, which brings them to uncovering plots of kidnapping and murder.
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 1
Genevieve pounded the dough on the counter, digging palms into the gooey mass with a rhythm that matched the fury of a mother bear protecting her cub. Being the eldest daughter of the Trafton family came with a price – responsibility and spinsterhood. Since her father’s death five years ago, she’d put her life on hold - and for what? Nicolas, or Nick, which he preferred to be called, had slipped away in the middle of the night, leaving only a note stating he was off to find real work in a man’s world. What did that mean anyway? He’d passed off the farm to his younger brothers without explanation or a clue as to his destination. Truth was, the two he left behind loved working the land that Nick had always considered the lowest drudgery given to mankind. Sounded to her like he planned on sowing his own wild oats. Good riddance to him.
Genevieve struck the pliable blob one final time, and hearing no squeaks of air, ripped off a portion and pressed the dough into a bread pan. A crude form of jealousy crept into her heart. If Nick could run from home, what stopped her from doing the same? Tears swam in the corners of her sea-blue eyes, her sole claim to beauty that in the beginning had drawn men like flies to honey. But now, even they’d lost their charm in the everyday grind of life.
She’d prefer to lay blame for her situation on a more noble obligation - her siblings – but deep down, she knew better. The excuse of never finding time to explore the possibilities that life offered had become a crutch, and now the fear of leaving her lifelong home resided in its place. No suitors bothered to call anymore. They’d found more willing brides amongst the women of Denver, Colorado. These days, the fellas that found their way to the Trafton farm called on her sister Grace, an eighteen-year-old exquisite rose that would not stay single for long.
Genevieve was the ripe-old-age of twenty-three. Not ancient to her way of thinking, but nonetheless, labeled a spinster. The title society dictated smothered the fading embers within her spirit, and each day the dream of leaving home became a fog too dense to penetrate. Despite her slim features, she was sturdy and capable of handling duties both inside the house or out on the land. Her aim with a gun was spot on, and she could out-shoot her brothers any day of the week. Surely there existed a job in Denver that would support a new life for her. Whatever that may entail, it would be better than dying an old maid here.
She mused about what she’d like to do. Cook or waitressing at the Diner, maybe, but she definitely disliked the idea of a seamstress. Genevieve hated sewing or making the delicate embroideries that her sisters enjoyed fussing over. No occupation survived the final cut. If she were to be totally honest with herself, she’d prefer to work on the land with the horses or walking behind a plow. As Genevieve scrubbed the dirty dishes, her imagination continued to drift to bolder career choices open to women. She chuckled to herself when the picture of a lawman popped into her head. Even the name of the position mocked her. Law-woman? She’d never heard of a female sheriff and stroked that off the shortlist forming in her mind. Strange how Genevieve felt something physically wither inside when she realized that option to be a pipe dream. She chided herself for wasting time thinking of such nonsense. Life had dealt her a bad hand and without a miracle, she’d remain stuck at the table, dealing cards to the more enterprising gamblers passing through her life.
A plate slipped from Genevieve’s hand and smashed to smithereens on the floor. The anger rose again as she silently cursed her brother Nick, and
