Chapter 6
The women closed in and Gen felt overcome and stifled. To what degree she’d need to use these women to solve the case remained unknown and she’d rather stay detached than cause anyone grief by her hand. Sensitivity was probably not an asset to a Pinkerton agent. She sucked in her misgivings, and dived into getting to know the ladies. From the corner of her eye, she noticed Trace doing the same thing and gathered strength from him. By the time the wagons pulled out, she was mentally exhausted.
Three flamboyant women had managed to zap her energy, more than any crowd that had gathered at the farm during harvest. But her inner turmoil boiled down to a guilty conscience. Deceit played a major part in obtaining usable evidence. She must somehow learn to plow past that crippling hindrance, for Gen wanted nothing more than to be successful in her new line of work.
Trace steered the team into position behind the last wagon then jumped down to stand beside his wife.
“Our fellow travelers seem a happy lot,” Gen said.
“A little too happy, if you ask me,” said Trace. “All filled with dreams of a better life.”
“You say it like you don’t believe bettering oneself is a worthwhile cause.”
“I do, but a couple of these guys give me the creeps. Not your typical settlers on the way to a new beginning.” Trace stared at the husky fella playing with the ringlets that hung loose from his wife’s hat. He received a swat for his advances.
“Are you afraid they are easy prey for the first scoundrel that passes our way?” asked Gen.
“Perhaps you can teach the ladies a thing or two, when you’re not busy solving our case,” said Trace. “Building new skills, other than their flaunting their obvious physical features, will prove more beneficial when it comes time to nurture the fires on the new frontier.”
“What are you saying?”
“Suspect these fellas have reached to the bottom of the barrel for their choice of women to wed.”
“Trace Stapleton. That’s unkind. They seem nice enough – perhaps a bit painted and flirty, but they’re young and still trying to impress their men.”
“Whatever you say. Just saying they may need to learn some of those homey skills you’re so good at.”
“Why thank you for that off-handed compliment. I shall watch for opportunities. But we are here to work, first and foremost.”
“Correction, my dear.” Trace reached for her hand. “We are here to honeymoon. Anything else will be spotted a mile away.”
Gen leaned over and kissed his cheek. “Just in case someone is watching,” she whispered in his ear.
“Glad they put us at the back of the pack. Good vantage point to see all. We’ll be the first to spot the mischief-makers seeking to make a profit from trusting families.” He reached for her hand. “Let me help you to board this rented wagon.”
“There is a man riding a lone horse a hundred yards back. I believe his position is the official back of the pack.”
Trace roared laughing. “Good spotting. His name is Simon – our prime suspect in the case of the missing Andrea Friskin.”
“At least you were right on his account. Gives me hope that Andrea will also be joining us,” said Gen.
“You sound surprised that I know what I’m doing,” Trace said. “It’s not all that rare, you know? I do possess a good ability to follow leads.” The wagon ahead was a good distance, so Trace released the brake and they lurched forward.
“I’m sure you possess many good qualities, Mr. Stapleton,” Gen teased feeling rather playful now that the journey had begun.
Trace kept his eyes straight ahead. “I just hope Simon can shoot game to feed us. That gives me two good reasons to keep track of the man.”
“Are you hungry?” Gen asked “I forgot all about lunch in our rush to leave.” She twisted backward and reached into a sack she’d placed at the front of the wagon. “I have some dried jerky if you need something to tide you over.”
“Perceptive female. I shall have to be careful.”
“Not at all. I heard your tummy grumbling over the noise of the wheels chattering on this hard ground. I believe you have chosen a very rugged honeymoon for us, husband.”
“I can do better, if we ever reach a real understanding,” said Trace, his eyes penetrating the scant reserve of defenses she had left. The blush immediately betrayed her and she swatted him when he chuckled.
“Did I ever tell you, Trace Stapleton, I adore the melody your laugh sings when you are at ease with me?”
“You did not, but I appreciate hearing it now. I can laugh all the way to Colorado Springs if you like.”
Gen leaned her head against his shoulder and after a few jostles that threw her off, she lifted it again and looked at him. She noted the haze that covered his chestnut eyes when he stared at her. Today, she did not let it offend her.
“You can save the shoulder feast until later. I won’t mind,” said Trace.
Gen cleared her throat, as if that would dismiss the waves of emotion floating between them. They fell silent and she sat rigid to soften the jostling of the wagon ride.
When she could bear the quiet no longer, she spoke. “So, what’s our next move in the case?” she whispered, knowing full well that nothing new had developed. The plan remained the same.
“We’re still watching for Andrea to join up.”
Trace had barely gotten the words out of mouth when he pulled the lines and yelled, “whoa,” to the horses. While stretching his head around the wagon up front, he grinned. “And I believe our
