Stacy Henrie - The Rancher's Temporary Engagement

He read the words through carefully. By the time he reached the end, he was grinning. His father’s contact in the British Cavalry had come through after all. They were, indeed, interested in securing a large quantity of horses from his region.

A rush of satisfaction rose within him as Edward dug heartily into his breakfast once more. All of his hard work would be worth it if he could secure a contract with the British Cavalry. Then his mother and brothers would surely have to acknowledge that, in spite of not being the heir or the spare to his family’s wealth and title, he’d done quite well. Soon the name and ranch of Edward Kent would mean something, far beyond his small corner of the world.

He couldn’t wait to tell McCall the good news. Thoughts of his foreman brought the memory of the trampled fence and escaped horses to mind and doused his excitement like water against hot coals. He couldn’t afford any more mishaps, not if he wanted to supply the Cavalry with needed horses.

No longer hungry, he set aside his fork. He needed to stop whoever wanted him gone. But that meant finding out who was behind the disruptions. Pushing his dishes out of the way, Edward rested his elbows against the tabletop. Who in the area might hold a vendetta against him? He could think of no one. His staff treated him with the same respect he showed them, and the other ranchers he associated with at the Sheridan Inn were uniformly friendly to him.

He climbed to his feet, fresh frustration chewing at him as hunger had earlier. He stacked his dishes on the tray and carried it into the kitchen. “Here you are, Mrs. Harvey,” he said, setting the tray on the center table. “Thank you again.”

She glanced up from the dough she was kneading. “Didn’t know you were done, sir, or I would’ve collected the dishes myself.”

“Not to worry.”

His gaze fell on the dime novel that lay open before her, giving him a sudden idea. Perhaps this might be an answer to his anxious prayers over the last four weeks. “How efficient are these Pinkerton detectives?” He motioned to the novel. “In real life, I mean.”

“Quite, sir.” Her expression conveyed her confusion at his question. “They always get their man.”

Edward clapped his hands. “Excellent. If you need me, Mrs. Harvey, I’ll be in my study.” He had a letter to write.

“Yes, sir.”

He exited the kitchen, feeling a return of his good mood. He would employ the Pinkerton’s finest, most reliable man for his case, and soon life would resume to normal at the Running W once more.

Denver, Colorado, one month later

Maggy Worthing yanked the maid’s cap off her head, causing her straight auburn hair to tumble around her shoulders. “The counterfeiter is sitting behind bars as we speak,” she announced with triumph as she propped her boots on the edge of her supervisor’s desk.

“Well done, Maggy.” James McParland, superintendent of the Pinkerton Agency’s Denver office, leaned back in his chair and peered at her through his round spectacles, his chestnut-colored mustache twitching. “You do make a rather convincing maid in that getup, minus the arrogant look.”

“Ha.” She loosened the top collar button of her borrowed uniform. Once she’d finished talking with James, she could return to her boardinghouse room and change back into her regular, more comfortable clothes—a well-worn button shirt and men’s trousers. “I make a rather convincing detective, maid getup or no.”

James inclined his head. “Touché. And that is why I have some news for one of my best detectives.”

A frisson of excitement, similar to what she felt each time she knew she’d nabbed her man, unfurled inside her. “What news is that?” she asked, dropping her boots to the floor.

“The Pinkerton brothers in Chicago are looking for a woman to head up the training of all their female operatives.” He shot her a knowing smile. “I’ve a mind to recommend you.”

Maggy blinked, hardly daring to believe his words. This was her dream, one born into existence the moment James had hired her as a Pinkerton operative six years earlier. Now it was so close she could nearly grasp it within her fingers. The twenty-one-year-old widow she’d been then had been as scared as she was determined to make a career out of being a detective. And now, she not only had a solid career for herself but the chance to mold and assist with the careers of other female detectives, too.

“Have a mind?” she echoed, erring on the side of caution rather than unbounded hope. “Something I can do to make things more definitive?”

James separated a short stack of papers from the others on his desk. “Complete this mission in Wyoming. The other operative I sent last month wasn’t able to make any headway on it, which hasn’t made the best impression on the rancher who requested a detective. So far all we’ve managed to do is sour his opinion of the agency. I would’ve put you on the case from the beginning, but you were deep in the counterfeiting mission.”

“Why does he need an operative?”

“Someone’s sabotaging his ranch.” He slid the papers toward her. “The man’s initial request is on top, along with the other operative’s report.”

Picking up the letter first, Maggy carefully read through its contents. Edward Kent, a horse rancher in Wyoming, had experienced a rash of threatening notes and acts of vandalism to his ranch, the Running W.

It was apparent from his choice of words that the man was well educated and had likely attended school well beyond the completion of the second grade as Maggy had done. The rest of her education she’d garnered on her own—mostly from secretly reading the newspaper and any books she could get her hands on.

She leafed through the other operative’s notes next. The man, working undercover as a wrangler for Kent, had noted no nefarious behavior or ill feelings among the rancher’s staff—they seemed to be loyal to their employer. He had uncovered no leads as to the identity of the saboteur.

“Appears to be a straightforward job.” She set the papers back on the desk. “Though I’m not sure which sort of role I ought to play. It sounds like pretending to be a wrangler didn’t exactly help.”

“See what Kent suggests, but only after you smooth his ruffled feathers. He’s expressed reluctance at hiring someone new from us. But I trust you to convince him that the Pinkertons can still help him and that you’ll crack this case.”

His confidence in her skills and ability to solve a case where the other operative had failed had Maggy feeling on top of the world. “I can leave for Sheridan tomorrow.”

“Excellent.” James stood, signaling an end to their conversation. “Find this ranch interloper and I’ll send my recommendation to Robert and William Pinkerton to hire you as the head of all female operatives.”

She rose to her feet as well as she excitedly crushed her cap inside her fist. “Thank you, James. I won’t let you down.”

“You never do. That’s why I’m sending Get-Her-Man Maggy to complete the job.”

Chuckling, she maneuvered around her chair. She had garnered the nickname after her first undercover mission, in which she’d pretended to be a hapless female traveling alone and had successfully tracked down a ring of train employees swindling hundreds of dollars from the company every month. Several more triumphant undercover missions over the next couple months had secured her a position as one of James’s top operatives.

“Would you miss Colorado?” he asked, trailing her to the door. His head barely reached her shoulder, though she wasn’t considered overly tall. “If you get the position in Chicago?”

She didn’t hesitate to shake her head. “I’d miss working for the office here. But there’s nothing keeping me from leaving.”