to Colorado.
Despite the agency’s insistence about sending another agent to the ranch—likely in an attempt to restore their good name with him—Edward had decided just that morning that he would find some other way to solve his case.
The woman consulted the watch pinned to her jacket. “Yes, you were to meet me more than an hour ago. But I got tired of waiting. It was easy enough to get directions and this horse and buggy. I may be able to count the livery as expenditures. Then again, the rental was necessary because you were late, so you might need to reimburse the expense.”
Frustration rippled through him, its waves growing more pronounced the longer he sat here glaring at her. The last detective had incurred an expense from him as well, and Edward had not been satisfied with the results.
“I regret I was not at the station on time,” he conceded. He shifted on the wagon seat, his fingers tightening their grip on the horses’ reins. What was the most polite way to share with her that he no longer required a new detective, male or female? “I was attending to business related to the case that the last detective found too difficult to—”
To his astonishment, she clucked to the old nag pulling the buggy and headed up the drive as if Edward hadn’t spoken. “You’ll find that I don’t back down from a challenge as easily,” she called over her shoulder.
Giving a low growl, he hurried to turn the team and wagon around to catch up with her, but she made it to the house before him.
“If you’ll pardon me, Miss...” He waited for her to supply him with a last name.
“It’s better for both of us if you simply call me Maggy.”
Edward could think of several other things to call her at the moment—none of which his proper English mother would approve of. “Maggy,” he bit out. He prided himself on sounding marginally calm. “I can’t afford any more interruptions to my ranch.” Not when the British Cavalry was interested in his horses. “However, I no longer wish to shoulder the expense of another agent, only to be disappointed with the results once again.”
She climbed from her vehicle, her head held high. Apparently she was as stubborn as she was striking. “I promise you won’t be disappointed with my results.” She proceeded to untie the rope that secured a trunk to the back of the buggy. “If you need credentials, I can supply those. But you should know...” She paused to throw him a penetrating look. “I’m known in the Denver office as Get-Her-Man Maggy. And that is why Mr. James McParland himself sent me.”
He recognized the name McParland. After Edward had sent his letter to the agency, Mrs. Harvey had illuminated the more renowned cases of the Pinkertons, including McParland’s own role in infiltrating a gang of assassins in Pennsylvania in the ’70s. The man might know what he was about in sending Maggy.
Still, Edward wasn’t sold on the plan. It seemed a waste of time and money to employ yet another detective from the same agency. Their methods of investigation would likely prove similarly unfruitful.
“That last gentleman pretended to be a new hire,” he said, climbing down from the wagon, “but that won’t be as easy to explain if you were to assume such a role, would it?”
He’d hoped to deter her, but he was disappointed. Instead, she manhandled her trunk onto the porch and threw him a satisfied grin. “I’m sure we can think of a different, more effective role. This trunk of disguises will help.” She slapped the top of the luggage as if it were an old friend.
“Disguises?” he repeated with a shake of his head. “This isn’t a circus, Miss Maggy. This is a prosperous ranch. And I need someone to find out who’s sabotaging it. Not entertain the populace with some masquerade.”
His neck heated with greater anger as memories intruded, memories he typically kept locked away. It had been at a masquerade ball, several months after his father’s death, when he’d discovered the woman he’d loved in intimate conversation with his oldest brother. He’d confronted them, only to learn Beatrice had thrown him over.
A mutual friend confided to Edward later on that Beatrice had cared for him, but a sudden and tragic misfortune with her family’s finances had made her anxious to marry someone with the money to rescue her relations from ruin. Edward still felt the sting of rejection, though. Especially when his brother and Beatrice were married six months later. Two weeks following the wedding, he’d climbed aboard a ship bound for America.
“Are you always this obstinate, Mr. Kent?” Maggy asked, jerking his thoughts back to the unpleasant scene unfolding on his porch.
She was accusing him of obstinacy? He climbed the steps in an effort to keep her from barging her way inside. An action he wouldn’t put past her. “Are you always this persistent?”
Her eyes brightened with amusement. “I wouldn’t be one of McParland’s best detectives if I weren’t.”
Running a hand over his face, Edward blew out an exasperated sigh. Clearly he wasn’t going to convince this woman that he was done employing Pinkerton detectives. But if she were to prove her own inabilities...
“I will make a deal with you. You find some clue your predecessor did not, and I will hire you as my new detective.”
Instead of looking defeated, a thrum of energy seemed to radiate from her. “How long do I have?”
“Until this evening.” Then he’d kindly provide her with supper and a room for the night before sending her back to Colorado.
Undeterred, she stuck out her hand. “Agreed.”
Edward eyed her hand, feeling a bit foolish at the idea of shaking it as if she were a gentleman. Then again, she’d been insisting since he stumbled onto her in the drive that he take her seriously. He wondered what had caused her to appear so upset earlier. Her expression no longer held any of the vulnerability it had upon first glance. In contrast, she raised her eyebrows again, challenging him.
“Very well. Welcome to the Running W,” he said, shaking her hand. He even managed a polite smile. After all, he felt quite confident she wouldn’t be unpacking. This would be her first and final day on the ranch.
* * *
“Should I bring my trunk inside?” Maggy gestured to her luggage. The sooner she started on her investigation, the better. She could tell by the determined gleam in Edward’s gray eyes that he thought he’d given her a test she couldn’t pass. And she couldn’t wait to prove him wrong.
He frowned but moved to heft her luggage anyway. “I suppose we shouldn’t leave it out here unattended.”
Maggy opened the door for him, then followed him inside. The marble-inlaid hall tree where he hung his cowboy hat didn’t surprise her in its tasteful opulence, nor did the polished wood paneling of the entryway where he set her trunk. The ranch wouldn’t be the target of sabotage if it weren’t doing well.
“May I ask you some questions about the ranch?” Or would he see that as a violation of the conditions of his test? Was she supposed to figure everything out unaided? She wouldn’t interview the staff or hired hands yet, since she wasn’t sure which role she’d be playing for the duration of her stay here.
And she would be staying.
Stepping to the open doorway on the right, which appeared to
