To all my readers,

Thank you for following me on this new and amazing adventure into the world of western romance. Thank you for reading, your support and kindness! I hope you have a great adventure in these final series books.

Much Love,

Ericka

The silvery bells on the flower shop door tinkled merrily behind her as Audrey stepped out into the St. Louis sunshine. She frowned, pulling the door hard behind her. It shut with a satisfying thud.

All around her, wagons clattered, merchants called, horses snorted at their drivers urging them on. It was a brilliant day in the bustling midwestern metropolis. Audrey hadn’t been to many cities before, never outside her allotted areas to shop, and definitely never unaccompanied. The excitement prickled Audrey’s skin. There was an exhilaration in the air, a whisper of promise and possibility, of freedom—something she’d dreamt of all her life, but never acted upon, not until today.

Her father had kept her secluded either in her mansion or finishing schools. He did not want the pretentiousness of society to hinder her heart. Her father wanted her to believe in goodness. However, twelve years was quite a long time to dream about freedom from the cooped-up comfort of a finishing school, or to see the pretentiousness her father tried so hard to protect her from. And sure as sunshine, Audrey wasn’t about to spend the next eighteen years cooped up in her aunt’s stuffy parlor with her horrendous cousin. Perish the thought, she shivered.

For almost a decade, Audrey lived under the malicious rule of her aunt. Nothing she did was ever good enough; from the way she styled her hair to embroidery. While Audrey, in her youth, craved the attention of Georgiana, the only mother-figure she’d known, it was not to come. Growing older taught her a valuable lesson – for so many people, money spoke louder than a voice. And all Georgiana wanted was her father’s wealth... at whatever cost.

Now that she was of age, she was summoned to her aunt’s estate here in St. Louis to draw up wedding plans to marry her odious cousin Thomas. Audrey’s stomach roiled. Being unattached, wealthy, and a woman made any choices she had complicated. There was always someone to tell her no or dictate her path.

Audrey adjusted her skirts. Not any more, she thought. I will not be a peon any longer. Like Jane Eyre, I shall make my own decisions. My aunt shall not control me.

Aunt Georgiana was comparable to the dastardly characters in old folklore – cold, calculated, and callous. The most atrocious part of Georgiana was her infatuation with Audrey marrying her son, Thomas. Good Lord above, there was no way she would marry him.

A sneaky smile crept across her lips. What was that penny novel about, again, Audrey pondered, wasn’t the girl kidnapped? Audrey’s green eyes brightened. Brilliant!

Audrey stood patiently. A stage coach rumbled by. She weaved her way across the street to her waiting carriage. She fiddled with the ends of her braided brown hair. Her aunt’s gentle carriage driver waited by the door, bowler hat in hand. When he stepped forward, grinning eagerly and eyes alight, she almost regretted her sudden inspiration, but not quite.

“Rafe, I’ve just been to the flower shop and have ordered a delicious arrangement of dahlias for my aunt. Could you please load it in the carriage when it is finished?”

“Yes, Miz Audrey.” The wrinkled older man bowed his head in respect.

“Thank you. You may wait inside the shop, please. It shan’t be long, not more than one hour at most, the lady said.” When Rafe’s face fell, Audrey hurriedly continued, “Plus the shopkeeper has a nice tea set out. It looked delicious. Thank you, Rafe. You are always so dear and kind.”

Rafe grinned, ducking his head. “Aw, thank you, Miz Audrey.”

“I am sorry about the wait. I do hope it’s no trouble.”

He flashed a smile. “No trouble at all. I’ll just enjoy me some of those little cookies Susan is famous for.”

“I shall be in the next store over on the right, Rafe,” she said pointing.

“Yes, Miz Audrey.”

She wandered over to the lead horse, a beautiful chestnut gelding with a white star on his forehead, and patted his neck for a moment. When she peeked back over her shoulder, Rafe disappeared into the flower shop.

The noise of the city intensified around her. She calmly gathered her skirts in one hand and used the other to jump into the driver’s seat. She clambered on, slipping and tripping over her taffeta skirts. With the reins in hand, she threw the brake.

Audrey clucked her tongue the way she’d often done with her horse at school. “Come on now,” she encouraged, mimicking Rafe’s speech, and giving the reins a slap. “Nice and easy like.”

The horses’ ears flicked back and forth, taking a couple of hesitant steps. Audrey grinned triumphantly. With firm hands, she guided the horses into the dusty street, hoping to meld into traffic unnoticed. Audrey pulled her bonnet lower to prevent the sun from blinding her or others recognizing her.

No wonder most wear darker colors. The dust is ridiculous, she thought, peeking over her shoulder. The horses whinnied, picking up the pace with her not paying attention. Audrey smiled. Most would call what she was doing insane. Audrey considered it survival.

Getting away from the fiscal pulls of society and the entrapment of it all weighed heavily on her mind. She didn’t want to be bound to high society, to the balls and galas, or the double toned meanings of statements. Or her aunt’s verbal abuse constantly reminding her how dimwitted and worthless she is.

Audrey cocked her head to the side. “I can make it absolutely dramatic,” she announced to the horses.

The animals snorted a reply.

“I believe it’s a wonderful idea, thank you.” She grinned amused with herself.

Goose pimples prickled her skin. Her stomach churned with equal amounts excitement, and uneasiness. Her plan was bold, even for her.

Goodness, Audrey thought, turn right by the large buildings. All right, here we go.

“Let’s turn,” Audrey whispered to the horses. “Nice and easy, please.”

She navigated her way down the lane following it back going past several other streets. Audrey bit her lip, glancing around her. No one paid her any mind. She let out the breath she was holding. Audrey’s smile grew wider than the streets of Philadelphia. An old wooden warehouse stood abandoned on the corner. Rocks and weeds surrounded the exterior of the building. Audrey made for it, slapping the reins on the backs of the animals. The horses shook their heads, manes tossing. Audrey guided them around the back.

The nervousness that roiled in her body, dissipated. The saccharine appeal of freedom was within her grasp.

“Whoa!” she hollered.

In her hurry, the parasol slipped from her hand and fell beneath the carriage wheel with a crunch. Oh no, Audrey thought a moment. Wait... It’s perfect!

Audrey threw the brake. With a less than graceful leap, Audrey stumbled out of the carriage, landing on her feet. She caught herself with a triumphant gleam in her eye. Shaking out her skirts, she gazed around for a brick, a rock, anything hard.

“Ah, here we are,” she announced to the horses.

Hefting a rock in her delicately gloved hand, she threw it against the carriage window. Cracks spread across the window like a spider web. She tried again, putting her weight against it this time. Krish! The window shattered.

“It’s all right,” she cooed to the startled horses.

The horses snorted, lunging against the carriage ties. She murmured assurances to the spooked creatures. Audrey stealthily pulled out a knife from beneath her skirts. She’d spent the last few hours sharpening it in the solitude of her room. She hefted its weight in her right hand while reaching for the carriage door handle with the other.

The carriage door opened easily. Glass crunched under her boots as she stepped inside. She gripped her knife just as she imagined pirates on the open sea must do, and slashed the seats. She laughed a little imagining herself to be aboard Hawkins’ Hispaniola.

“No more uncomfortable seats,” she panted, slicing the cushions. “No dreary, confining rides to Aunt Coldaire’s! No more Thomas’s foul-smelling breath on my neck!” Audrey grinned, pulled her arm back for one final blow. “And no more anyone telling me how I should be!”

Audrey wrenched the knife out of the cushion, and was rewarded with a most satisfying rip. Stuffing from the seats exploded out, floating in tufts she swatted away from her face. The carriage looked like three cats with their tails on fire had clawed their way out.

It looks marvelous. No one will suspect, Audrey beamed, pulling off a lace glove, considering her pale pink palm and the winking edge of her sharpened knife. Could she do it?

Audrey pursed her lips. Much too over the top. A lock of hair will have to do.

She pulled out a lock from her braid and cut it off, leaving the strands behind for evidence of her certain distress. Now anyone finding her carriage would be forced to believe she’d been taken in some desperate manner, perhaps by some hooligan. Then she’d be free to do as she pleased. She giggled a little. That’s how it worked in the novels she’d read. Why wouldn’t it work for her?

Stepping down from the carriage, Audrey wondered if she could leave any final touches. She did have a ruby bracelet she cared very little for, despite the obvious cost of the jewelry. A small token of my enduring affection, her debonair cousin said in the oily way of his, his cold fingers clasping it around her wrist. She gagged on her own spittle, her skin crawling at the thought.

“All for the cause,” she said aloud. She yanked it off, dropping it onto the cobblestones, and ground it gleefully under her boot. Good riddance!

Turning to the horses, she loosed them both from their traces and gave the brown mare a slap. With a squeal, the horse headed onto the road, presumably toward her stable home. Audrey kept her hand on the chestnut’s halter. Audrey spoke soothingly to him stroking his neck. She cut the reins into something manageable and mounted in an easy leap. Riding bareback was most frowned upon, however, Audrey never cared, enjoying the sense of freedom and the bit of rebellion that came with the act. She arranged her skirts then urged the gelding forward. He began to trot, getting the nervousness of earlier out of his system.

Off in the distance, a train whistle blew, echoing down the street she was leaving behind. Audrey paused. The horse beneath her shuddering with the same excitement. Audrey smiled; her animal’s ears perked in the same direction. The gelding whinnied.

“Splendid!” Audrey exclaimed, galloping toward freedom.

The setting sun painted the countryside in pinked hues, warming the green rolling hills in a golden glow that contrasted with the deep blue sky. The effect was heartwarming and entirely lost on Georgiana Coldaire. Face bathed in the sun’s final rays, she stood in the open doorway of her vast mansion home clutching a handkerchief in her fist while working on her sniffles, not that the man in front of her could tell they were fake. The sheriff walked down the long white gravel drive, passing beneath the shadows of precisely shaped magnolia trees. He untied his waiting horse and turned to give her a final reassuring wave. Georgiana gently dabbed her eyes, raising her handkerchief. The sheriff tipped his hat, and took off down the drive back to St. Louis.

Even before the hoofbeats retreated, Georgiana tossed the lace cloth behind her and entered her parlor, sitting down in a chair with a laugh. It was almost too perfect. Never in her wildest dreams had she thought her niece would simply disappear. Grow ill and die maybe—tuberculosis was still happily common these days among the young people—but to go out one day and never return? For such a stroke of luck, one could thank Providence. If one believed so.

Georgiana smiled, leaning back comfortably in the chair. She rang the bell on the table.

Ruth entered the room. The red-headed maid dipped a curtsey. “Yes, ma’am?”

“Get me Thomas immediately.”

Ruth hesitated. “With all due respect, ma’am, Master Thomas is not here.”

Georgiana spun around. Her eyes narrowed with tight lips. “What part of ‘get me Thomas immediately’ did not penetrate your head, girl? I do not care where my son is, get him to me!”

“Yes, ma’am.” Ruth dipped a curtsey and bolted way.

“Insolent girl!” Georgiana grumbled. In a louder voice, “Able, are you there?”

“Yes, ma’am.” The butler, a balding dark-skinned man, gave a slight bow.

“Get me a pen and paper. I need to send an urgent telegram to my brother’s lawyer.”

Georgiana straightened herself in the chair, awaiting Able’s return. She wondered who took the brat and where she was. Hopefully dead, although it did not matter. The sheriff was a bumbling idiot who could not handle much past the drunken bums in the streets. After being attacked in her own carriage, Audrey was good as dead.

Georgiana seethed under her breath. “Time to take what is rightfully mine.”

That bubbly, ditz of a girl inherited everything after her father died while she was forced to live on the stipends he provided previous to his tragic passing. Everything, every estate he owned, and hotel, should have been hers. Audrey hadn’t the cunning or the smarts for managing so much wealth. Audrey’s romantic putz of a head was much to in the clouds, or in a book. Now, her Thomas. He was another story. When he pulled his own head out of the gambling tables, he was cunning and wily. No matter, she would run it all now, as it should have been long ago.

Georgiana’s eyes narrowed. It was MY idea to begin hotels. It was my idea to rise up from poverty and rise I have. Georgiana hissed under her breath. My brother borrowed money from my husband to start up his business. It is only fitting I get my investment back, tenfold.

The door to the parlor opened. She looked over her shoulder. Able strode forth with her requirements on a silver tray. Georgiana scribbled a telegram to Wilfred Darrow, instructing Able to send straight away. Able left, handing off the telegram to another servant.

I should send a thank you note to whoever disposed of the wretch, Georgiana mused.

On the other side of the parlor, the door burst open. Thomas ran in, his eyes wild, searching for the woman who was no longer here. Georgiana rolled her eyes. Thomas’s love for theatre took a turn for the ludicrous dramatics.

“Mother, I just got back. What seems to be the matter?” Thomas asked trying to catch his breath.

Georgiana motioned for Thomas to sit. “Most grievous news, my dearest son. It seems your marriage is to be postponed. Audrey has gotten herself murdered.”

“Indeed, what grievous news.” Thomas turned his back on his mother and ran his hands through his hair. “I was looking forward to the nuptials,” he said turning around with a malicious upward quirk of his lips.

“Indeed.” Georgiana matched his countenance.

He took a seat and pulled out his pipe. Georgiana’s lip curled. He struck a match and sucked on his pipe until the flame caught. “I suppose arrangements must be made,” he said. “A funeral and all.”

“Quite.”

“And then, what of her fortune?”

“You mean, our family fortune?”

Thomas inclined his head.

“I suppose it must be passed on to the family, all fortunes must when one passes over to the Golden Shore.”

There were times when even poetry and religion spoke to Madame Coldaire’s heart. Tonight, was one of those moments. She was in a good mood. Georgiana leaned back in her cushioned seat. A small smile toyed at the edges of her lips. “Dear Audrey. Such a sweet, kind child she was. I am sure nothing would make her happier than to know her fortune passed on to her loving aunt and most attentive cousin. I have sent a note to summon Wilfred Darrow here. Once the lawyer arrives, he shall get all the proper paperwork in order, and dear Audrey’s fortune shall be ours.”

Thomas clasped his hands together, leaning back in the chair, crossing his legs and exhaling luxuriously, a content grin forming, “Splendid, Mother.”

Eugene strolled down the cobblestone streets of Philadelphia, his hands in his coat pockets. His broad brimmed hat tipped downward, shading his tanned face from the hot late summer sun. He paused to let a lorry rumble by. Glancing down the busy street, he found what he was looking for. A crowd of bystanders gathered about a salesman like curious flies bumbling around a honeypot.

Poor fellows falling for the same scandal I had once, Eugene thought, adjusting the hat on his brown head.

He glanced down at the crumpled paper in his hands while casually glancing over his shoulders, checking to see if anyone matched the rough sketch on the paper. The fellow was a wanted man for conning, robbery and groping a woman. The tip he received from his errand boy was well worth the few hours on foot, tracking him down to get here. Luckily the man hadn’t left Philadelphia, just changed streets, and he was standing in the middle of the gathered crowd.

That’s him, Eugene surmised, tucking the note and sketch away. After this, I need to get back to the station, and finalize the case. He paused for a while, looking on at the scene below. The man was building momentum, gaining curious onlookers and potential cons by the moment. A man strolled by with his lady on his arm. Eugene watched the lady lay her head on the man’s shoulder when they paused to listen. I don’t want to do this forever, Eugene decided. I would like a home with a wife. Someone who will lean on me like that.

Eugene put his hands back in his pockets, internally shaking his head at the thought and turning his focus back to the wanted man. He grumbled at the thought of returning to the station. He wasn’t quite a police officer or a detective. He was a Pinkerton, a free-lance, under respected, underpaid private investigator for officials who deemed themselves too busy to investigate certain cases.

Eugene rolled his eyes. He worked long and hard to get to where he was unlike the upper class with money and mansions being handed to them. To rise from the slums of New York to a free-lance investigator was more than what his family thought capable, God rest their souls. And he thrived in the field he’d chosen, earning money from the aristocrats themselves.

The man on the street corner’s voice boomed off the brick buildings. He hollered at the gathered crowd about his miracle soaps. Allegedly, they could clean all surfaces and cure all manner of ills. The delightful scents, the full lather, the guaranteed efficaciousness of this marvelous soap—the salesman’s handlebar mustache trembled in rapture over his soap as he proclaimed all its wonderful benefits.

Eugene joined the mass near the front, wanting to laugh at the man’s mustache. He rolled his broad shoulders back, taking in the scene. He was within arm’s reach of the man’s open suitcase displaying a neatly stacked pyramid of soap, each bar wrapped in brown paper.

The peddler clapped his hands then spreading them wide, “Now, my fine fellows, for only one dollar, you can buy yourself a genuine miracle. You’ve heard what it has done for me, now try it for yourself—”

“Imagine paying one whole dollar for a single bar of soap,” the stout housewife next to Eugene muttered to her companion. “I could buy three cases of it with the money.”

“But if it can clean all that he says, isn’t it worth the expense?” her friend asked.

“Bollocks to that. To hear him speak of it, his miracle soap cleans stains out of lace, rust off of pots, and leprosy out of skin! Let’s go. We’ve wasted enough time on this foolishness.”

As they turned to leave, the women caught the salesman’s eye. “But that’s not all,” he went on, his excitement tipping him up on his toes like a marionette on strings. “In honor of my dear old mum’s birthday, which happens to be today, I have hidden a ten-dollar bill within one of these five lucky soaps. Here, sir—try one!”

The housewife stopped to watch the salesman toss a bar of soap to a bystander. Catching it, the man ripped open the paper and crowed with delight, holding up the bill. The crowd buzzed with excitement.

“Two twenty-dollar bills are hidden somewhere in this pile,” the peddler said, gesturing to his pyramid. “And, in one lucky, lucky bar of soap, I have hidden… a one-hundred-dollar bill.” His eyes went heavenward. “All for my dear old mum!”

The honey had been set, and the crowd caught. They swarmed the peddler, all reaching for the purses and pockets to fish out coins, each wanting a bar of soap for themselves. They pushed and shoved their way forward to the man’s open suitcase.

To Eugene, the charade went on long enough. “All right, show’s over,” he hollered, stepping forward.

The peddler grinned broadly, placing his hands on his hips in a way that made Eugene wonder if there was a pistol hiding beneath his coat. “Ah, good sir, there is more than enough to go around, I assure you.”

Eugene nodded. “I am certain there is; however, I am afraid I must call out your ploy.”

The man chuckled, taking two dollars from a nearby woman and handed her a couple of bars. “I am afraid, good sir, I do not understand what you mean.”

Eugene’s light cinnamon brown eyes narrowed. “I apologize for the confusion. Your soap selling is a hoax, a con, a ruse. Are any of those terms able to resolve your confusion?”

Two men from the crowd moved toward the front; one, the man who found money in his soap package, the other one of the big men who watched the crowd from the back, Eugene noted. Money-package Man rolled up his sleeves while the other’s hands clenched into fists.

The swindler laughed uncomfortably. “Now, now, ladies and gentlemen, this man is simply angry he has not won any money! I assure you, there is money inside these marvelously crafted bars of soap.”

Eugene spun around and faced the crowd. “Please return to your business. This man is a crook. If you will all check your purchases now, you will find there is no money in the packaging.”

The murmurs in the crowd went from disappointment and confusion to outrage. People opened their packets and found nothing but bars of waxy tallow. Some left, but others started demanding their money back. The con artist turned to Eugene, his mustache twitching in rage. Two more men approached from either side, their expressions matching the darkness of their ring leader’s. The tallest of them stood on his left. Eugene lowered his head, waiting for the fist he knew was seconds away.

The hustler wasn’t done. “I have just two bars left and one must have the hundred-dollar bill,” he announced, holding up the packaged soap. “Who wants it? Let’s start the bidding at ten dollars!”

“Run along, people,” Eugene returned, lifting his head to be heard.

Furious, the crook slammed his suitcase closed, shaking the rickety tripod beneath it. “I’ve had enough of you! Get ‘em, boys!”

The big man, Fist Man, reached Eugene right at that moment, taking a swing at him. Eugene ducked from the heavy-handed throw, coming up with a right hook to the gut. With a whoof, the man doubled over. Eugene finished him with a kick to the face. The man to Eugene’s right grabbed the collar of his shirt and swung. The blow landed on Eugene’s jaw.

Pain radiated through his head. Eugene planted his feet and swung back, hitting the other con man on the right temple, dropping him like a stone. Police whistles sounded from the distance. Eugene spun around and ran ten steps, grabbing the ringleader before he’d a chance to flee. The panicked man took a less than accurate swing with his suitcase and the case slammed feebly against Eugene’s shoulder, popping open and spilling the last two soap bars on the cobblestones. Eugene threw him in a headlock as he awaited the officers rushing toward him.

“Nice work, Turner,” Officer Hudson of the Philadelphia police said with a smile.

Eugene shook his hand. “Thank you, John. The tip I received proved well worth my time. Thank you for arriving quickly.”

John gave a tight smile. “Think nothing of it. Always a pleasure working with you, Eugene.”

“Mr. Turner! Mr. Turner!”

Eugene pivoted to the voice. One of his errand boys rushed toward him waving a yellow paper in his small hands. Eugene strode to him, bending down to his level as the boy approached. The boy stopped, staggering forward, out of breath.

“What’s the matter, Sean?” Eugene asked.

The boy huffed, catching his breath. “A telegram, sir. Just came in from Mr. Darrow.”

Eugene plucked the message from the boy’s hand and read the urgent telegram. He shoved the yellow slip of paper in his coat pocket.

“Good work, Sean,” he praised, handing the boy a packet of black licorice and five cents. “That will be all for the day. Run along.”

Eugene peered behind him at the officers dragging the reluctant con artists to the paddy wagon. His pocket watch declared it was just past two o’clock. Should give me enough time to catch the next train to Saint Louis.

The train shrieked, chugging to a halt at the St. Louis station. Eugene pulled out his pocket watch. He was to meet Darrow at the Coldaire estate at one o’clock. It was already twelve thirty. He grimaced, not liking the possibility of being late.

After disembarking, Eugene hailed a Hansom cab and directed the driver to the Coldaire estate. Settling back into the leather seat, Eugene opened his briefcase, reviewing the report he’d picked up from the local sheriff once again. According to the report, Audrey Whitman died from multiple stab wounds. However, the body of the young woman was yet to be found and there was no blood at the scene. The report went on to detail the destruction of the carriage, the victim’s personal items, and the team of horses being cut loose. Ms. Whitman’s benefactors, Georgiana Coldaire and her son Thomas, desired to close the case, claiming the death, and subsequent scandal too painful for their small family to endure. Evidently, it was enough for this sheriff to call the case closed.

Eugene rolled his eyes. How shoddy can an officer of the law get? No body, no blood, no ransom note. No one disappears, for goodness sakes, especially a wealthy young heiress. More than likely, she ran off with a fellow, or perhaps from someone in particular.

Eugene pulled out the telegram from Wilfred Darrow. He’d the pleasure of working for Darrow previously on a case involving stolen horses. Eugene sighed, raking his fingers through his warm brown hair. Come to St. Louis forthwith. You shall be investigating a disappearance, Eugene read thinking about Darrow’s slight English accent that dissipated with his immigration to America. Clearly, Darrow believed otherwise also.

Seeing the good lawyer would be beneficial. Darrow might have something for him to help the case. Eugene hoped as much. Missing persons cases were not his favorite.

After this, home to Philadelphia, Eugene sighed with anticipation. Buy a home and find a wife. He chuckled to himself. And not necessarily in that order.

He stuffed the papers back in his briefcase, slamming the lid shut. He gazed out the open Hansom cab, to the rows of manicured hedges and trees leading up to the mansion. Wilfred Darrow waited for him outside, underneath the white marble pillars. The old lawyer dabbed his forehead with a kerchief.

In a few quick strides, Eugene mounted the stairs and shook Darrow’s hand.

“Darrow. How goes it with you?” Eugene asked.

Darrow’s eyes narrowed, glancing at the open double doors behind him. “Decent enough. Thank you for coming, Eugene. Let’s handle this now.” His tone and glance at the doors set Eugene on the alert.

Stone-faced, Darrow led the way into the mansion. The butler, a balding man with a benign but keen expression, led them to the parlor, where Mrs. Coldaire sat in a chair looking distraught. She held the posture of a queen in full mourning, her elegantly coiffed coal-black hair streaked with silver, her voluminous black skirts emphasizing one of the smallest waists Eugene had ever seen on an older lady. It couldn’t be comfortable. She clutched a kerchief in her right hand, sniffling intermittently and dabbing occasionally at her clear, calculating, dry green eyes. Thomas, her son, stood smoking a pipe by the window, looking handsome, bored, and listless.

Eugene sighed inwardly. Typical aristocrat.

“Thank you, gentlemen, for coming to my humble abode on such short notice,” Madam Coldaire said. “These are such trying times for the family, and yet we must stir ourselves up to move forward. Much is yet to be done without poor, dear Audrey.”

Darrow’s lips pressed in a thin line. “Indeed,” he said.

“Able,” she snapped at the butler. Eugene perked a brow at her momentarily forgotten grief. Mrs. Coldaire pointed a shaky hand at a mirror, “throw the shawl over the hallway mirror. I can’t stand to see a mirror when there’s been a death in the house.” She collapsed into her chair as if suddenly overwhelmed. Eugene suppressed the smirk and eye roll that wanted to come out at the woman’s dramatics.

“Please, have a seat,” Thomas instructed. “My mother has been sorely vexed. She’s waited these past few days for any word about dearest Audrey. Sadly, no one’s turned up anything.”

“Absolutely nothing, Mrs. Coldaire?” Eugene asked.

Mrs. Coldaire put a hand to her head. “Indeed. The sheriff dropped off the wrecked carriage this morning for you to inspect.”

“Mrs. Coldaire, was there a note for ransom or any letters left behind?”

Georgiana shook her head, sniffling, and patting her dry eyes. Thomas relayed there wasn’t anything unusual or out of place. Georgiana looked away, putting a hand against her mouth, staring blankly out the window. Thomas pulled on his pipe. Soon a stream of smoke billowed up in lazy waves.

Eugene struggled to remain passive. His fingers strummed on the arm of the chair. Overly dramatic aunt and a distant, dandy cousin, Eugene thought. Clearly, they do not miss her at all.

A tight line formed on Eugene’s lips. He’d not seen so distantly shocking reactions to a death of a person deemed ‘beloved by all’. Eugene took a side glance toward Wilfred Darrow whose keen hawk-like gaze hadn’t changed during their entire interaction.

Clearly not buying it either, Eugene surmised.

“With her father’s untimely death when she was naught but twelve, we took her in and cared for her. We developed a fondness for each other,” Thomas sighed, shaking his head. Georgiana patted his hand. Woefully, Thomas continued, “Audrey and I decided to marry this fall. She left her finishing school to come here and plan the event with me and my mother. She,” Thomas sighed again, shaking his head, “never made it here.” Georgiana roused herself up long enough to attest to her delight in seeing her most favorite niece at last.

Eugene consulted his book of notes. Locking eyes with Georgiana, he asked, “she is your only niece, is she not?”

Mrs. Coldaire dabbed her eyes. “Quite right, my only niece and the best in all the world!”

Thomas, shifted from foot to foot, giving his pipe another pull.

“Dear Audrey was very excited for the wedding,” Georgiana continued, sniffling. “Of course, being such a young lady, she left all the arrangements in my hands—the seamstresses, flowers, invitations and all. Such an expense. I suppose it must all be returned now since the dear child is gone. I shall never get over the heartbreak of it all.”

Thomas exhaled smoke through his nostrils in twin streams. “Do not worry, Mother. We will honor her memory forever,” his voice hitching at the end.

Eugene glanced to the floor for a moment. By all that is Holy, I’ve never seen such… a theatre.

Georgiana tapped a black-gloved finger to her lips, momentarily lost in thought. “But what shall become of the estate and all of the holdings? My brother’s hotels won’t run themselves. Shouldn’t it all pass to us to take care of? After all, we are the sole family she had.”

Wilfred Darrow cleared his throat. “Has left, madam. Let us not be hasty. Without a body or any confirmation of her death, we must assume Miss Whitman remains alive. Therefore, there can be no legal change of ownership, and the estate and financial holdings remain in my care. It is why I hired Eugene Turner,” Darrow stated, motioning to Eugene, “a Pinkerton, widely respected in his field. He’s a highly trained professional and shall investigate the murder or disappearance of Audrey forthwith. Meanwhile, I will return to my work, for you are right. The hotels won’t run themselves.” Darrow rose. “And so, Eugene, I leave you to it. Good day, Madam Coldaire. Thomas.”

Eugene walked over to Darrow and shook his hand. “I will find her.”

“See that you do,” Darrow said, and the butler saw him out.

Eugene turned to face the two Coldaire’s. “I should like to see Audrey’s room and the carriage.”

Georgiana nodded. “Thomas, show him the carriage.”

“Yes, Mother. Eugene, if you’d please.”

Eugene followed Thomas out of the room, wondering at the true state of the carriage. Thomas led Eugene on a meandering path through the back of the house. Eugene couldn’t help but note how empty the place was. Aside from Able, he caught sight of two other servants, and the halls seemed oddly bare. Large squares of dark-colored paint marred the walls, wooden stands stood empty without vases, and the kitchen was a wreck of hastily constructed meals with no cook to oversee them. Outside, the grounds certainly did not have enough hands to maintain such a large property.

Thomas grunted, the barn doors creaking open. “Blast this infernal building!” Thomas huffed. “Perspiration will certainly ruin my new suit!”

The corner of Eugene’s lip twitched. As the dandy continued his complaints, Eugene resisted the urge to check the time. He was quickly losing patience with this man and this case. He did not like searching for missing persons. They were either found, well off and hiding, or dead. In the present case, Audrey was wealthier than Spain or England which could leave her in either situation.

She had to have been abducted, Eugene surmised. More than likely taken west where her ties to society would be far and few between.

Thomas’s whining about his suit gave way to boasts about how the ladies flocked to him. However, the man supposedly devoted his soul to his poor cousin, and no woman could ever come close to her in beauty. And now, here he was, left bereft without his beloved.

“I am telling you, Pinkerton, Audrey is dead,” Thomas continued. “You can even ask Rafe.”

Eugene whirled around. “Rafe?”

Thomas sighed irritably. “The carriage driver. The last person to see Audrey.”

Eugene made a mental note to speak to the man soon. Eugene sized up the wrecked carriage. Its slashed leather reins were the first item to catch his attention. Eugene picked up a leather strap, inspecting the cut. The straps were cut with a downward slash at an angle, and evidently the person sawed through the leather a bit.

Eugene scrutinized the leather, either the knife wasn’t sharp or their wrists were weak. Perhaps a bit of both.

He moved around to the right side of the carriage. The glass was smashed out of the windows, but for what purpose? None he could discern seeing the door lock intact and easily unlatched.

“See?” Thomas said, stroking his ridiculous mustache. “It is as the sheriff said. My poor cousin is lost to us forever.”

Eugene ignored his voice like the buzzing of a gnat and turned his interest to the inside of the carriage. His shoes crunched on glass as he stepped inside. Someone had taken a knife to the carriage seat. It was completely destroyed along with the cushion of the backrest. Stuffing from inside littered the carriage floor. The person, or persons, who made these vigorous stabbing and slash marks was in a hurry; the slashes seemed random and for no particular reason.

A great deal of energy went into making a scene like this, Eugene thought.

However, he couldn’t detect any sign of blood. The only damage received was to the carriage itself. There may have been a struggle, although with the randomness of the slash marks, I’d imagine she would’ve been hit by the knife at some point. With the lack of blood on the carriage material and no sign of a body, he could now assume the girl was, most likely, alive. Something more is going on than a simple kidnapping.

“I should like to see her room, if I may,” Eugene announced.

Thomas gave an impatient jerk of his head. “If you must. I don’t quite see what good it will do, seeing it is plain the girl was attacked, quite violently, and now is gone. It’s not like Mother to give up hope, the woman’s a stubborn old bird, but even she can tell the situation’s hopeless. What more do you need to see, to know, dear Audrey, is woefully dead?”

“It is for me to decide in the course of my investigation,” Eugene said pointedly. “I shall find your beloved cousin dead or alive. If dead, I shall return with the body. And, if this is the case, as you assume, in a few days her body shall be quite odorous and the pungency of her remains will, without question, affect the quality of your attire. Observing how enamored you are with Miss. Whitman, it should not be a hindrance though. If anything, having a type of closure will be a relief.”

Thomas blinked. “This way, if you will,” he harrumphed, turning on his heel.

Eugene curbed the smirk twitching on the edges of his lips. Thomas led him back toward the Coldaire Estate. A man approached from a side path, his dusty bowler hat in his caramel hands. Thomas sighed again, seemingly more irritated at the delay.

“‘Evenin’. I’m Rafe the driver,” the man said, sticking out his hand.

Eugene took it. “Pleasure. Eugene Turner, Pinkerton. I hear you can you tell me what happened?”

Rafe nodded. “We stopped in St. Louis. Miz Audrey asked to stop at a flower shop and ordered a passel of flowers for Madam Coldaire.”

Eugene whipped out his notepad and scribbled it down. “Flowers?”

“Yep. Dahlias, Miz Audrey said. Said the arrangement would take an hour to put together. Wanted me to wait for ‘em while they’re being made.”

“What else happened?”

“So’s, I went into the store like she asked me to, while she went next door to shop.”

“What else?”

Rafe sniffed, dabbing at his eyes. “Weren’t but a few minutes I was in the shop waitin’ when I happened to look out the window for the carriage and she was gone. She plum vanished, carriage, horses, and all.”

“You didn’t hear anything from inside the store—no shouts or sounds of a scuffle?”

“No, sir, nuthin’.”

“Can you tell me what she was wearing?”

Rafe nodded. “A blue dress… fluffy like. The color of the sky with white frilly trimmin’.”

“Anything you can tell me about how she seemed to you that day? Anything out of the ordinary about her mannerism?”

“How she seemed to me?” Rafe scratched his head. “Nuthin’ I can reckon. She was right pert like usual, chattin’ up a storm. Happy, I’d say. But she’s always seemed happy to me. She’s one of the sunshiniest ladies I’ve ever met. Sure, hope nuthin’ bad’s happened to her. You’ll find her soon, won’t you?”

Eugene put his notebook away and shook the man’s hand. “With your help, and Lord willing, I will. Thank you for this information, Rafe. This helps me immensely.”

The older man nodded and scooted off. Thomas pulled out an ivory snuff box and gave himself a delicate pinch. “He’s a good servant,” he said as Rafe disappeared into the stables. “I hope he wakes up to reality soon. Otherwise he’ll be crushed at her funeral and useless that day.”

Comments like his reminded Eugene why he preferred to stick with men who knew how to work for a living, and not gentlemen pampered until they were no longer gentle, nor men.

Which is why I stick to middle class, still gentlemen, not swayed by currency, and not so poor off to be desolate and depressed, Eugene thought.

“Shall we?” Eugene asked, trying to keep the annoyance from his voice.

Thomas led him through the oaken doors of the Coldaire Estate. The man turned to the right, going up a circling tower of stairs.

“We gave my dear cousin a room to herself to do whatever her fancy. She would paint, press flowers, that sort of thing. It is as you see.” Thomas stopped at the door and pulled out his pipe. Eugene scowled at the door, seeing the locking mechanism from the outside instead of in. He walked around the other side of the door. No scratch marks or markings. Eugene left the thought alone for the moment, circling about the room. Thomas dumped the sooty tobacco from his pipe out in the porcelain water basin near Audrey’s easel. Then he took to packing the pipe with fresh tobacco.

The Devil’s weed, as Ma would say, Eugene thought, walking over to the painting easel near the window.

A lonely dahlia was in the middle, painted orange in a blue vase. Embroidery sat on the cushioned chair, a needle and thread lying neatly on top. Eugene picked it up, reading the red-stitched words ‘Charity Never Faileth’ in the crisp white cotton.

“Where is her bedroom?” Eugene asked, setting the embroidery down.

“Over there on the left. Said something about wanting to overlook the gardens out in back.” Thomas had his pipe lit and seemed to be trying to make perfect rings of smoke. His face gaped like a gasping fish’s as the cloudy rings looped up toward the ceiling.

Let’s get this over with, Eugene thought. The sooner I’m out of here, the better.

Opening the door, Eugene found the room surprisingly small to be the home of an heiress. The door also locked on the outside.

Spying Eugene examine the lock closer, along with the surprise on his face at the size of the room, Thomas shrugged and said, “Old home you know, but Audrey insisted on this room.”

On the left was a humble bookcase. Two rows on the bottom, both filled with books. Trinkets and porcelain dolls sat on the top two rows. Underneath the white paned window stood the bed, covered in a pink quilt embroidered with flowers. On the bed was her diary.

Eugene went straight for it. He opened it seeing delicately pressed violets on the first several pages. He flipped through several more, seeing sketches of couples strolling down a sidewalk in brick-lined streets.

My Dearest Friend,

How I long to have an adventure of some kind. I feel like little Jane Eyre in Miss Bronte’s book, only before she left her finishing school and met her mysterious Mister Rochester, and then found herself the courage to leave his mansion and go off on her own to see what she could take on in the world. She made her own path. I desire the same and—oh! I find myself rambling. But what else can one do on a bright, golden day with no one to talk to but an empty page?

There was no signature of her on this particular page. Eugene closed the diary and stuck it in his coat pocket for further reading. Perhaps there would be some clue here about what happened to Miss Whitman. He took another look around, his eyes passing over the fanciful dolls and books with flower stems poking out of them. Nothing there of interest. Opening the desk, he found a few letters from friends back East—finishing school acquaintances, most like. All letters in neat, flourishing penmanship, all addressed to girls at a ladies’ school in Massachusetts. So, unless her kidnapper was related to one of these acquaintances, here was another dead end. Still, Eugene made a pile of the papers and addresses, slipping them in his briefcase.

Eugene walked out of the door, closing it softly behind him. Thomas leaned against the hallway wall in a haze of smoke.

“So, you have seen her room and the carriage,” Thomas remarked. “Anything else you care to inspect or are we done here?”

Eugene thanked him for his time and assured the gentleman he’d let himself out. His footsteps echoed hollowly as he left the empty Coldaire Estate. He needed to speak with Darrow.

Audrey glanced out the window, smiling, tucking some unruly hairs behind her ear. Her hands lay neatly in her lap. Her eyes roamed the passing landscape. Acres and acres of green land were set before her. Herds of horses and bison stampeding held her attention. Audrey could not help but smile. This was the adventure she always dreamt of.

She closed her eyes. The sun filtered through the small glass window, striking her face. The smile that brushed her lips could not be removed. Audrey inhaled deeply, relishing the smell of the wild instead of the perfumed rooms she was accustomed to. She loved the freedom she felt seep into her bones. She loved the thrill of watching the wild horses gallop close to the train, how independent they were.

I could positively never tire of such a sight!

Her entire life was routine, schedules and parties. Her life was education, classes, learning many languages to define her as accomplished. But the life she wanted was not the one she lived. Audrey wanted romance. Audrey wanted someone to love her for all she was, not for the money her father accumulated.

Audrey sighed. She wondered what her mother would have said to all she was doing. But she shall never know. Her mother died when she was a child. She wondered if her father would scold her for what she was doing now. But again, she was to never hear his voice again.

I miss them, she thought. I miss what could have been.

Audrey opened her eyes when she heard the car door open. Jack, the conductor, came by, helping a woman move her belongings; suitcases in each hand and under his arms. The woman’s son sat next to the window. His small face immediately pressed against the glass. The woman thanked Jack for the new accommodations and took a seat beside her son.

“Mother!” the boy shouted, “look at the size of that buffalo! Do you think the Indians rode them too?”

“William!” the mother scolded. “Hush your voice. And no, I do not believe the Indians rode bison. Far too ornery.”

Audrey snickered.

The woman turned to her with a smile. Audrey stuck out her hand. “Hello, my dear lady. My name is Audrey. It is a pleasure to meet you.”

The woman grinned, shaking her hand. “My name is Pearl. It is a pleasure to meet you as well. This is my son, William.”

The little boy spun around. “Hello, ma’am.”

“This is such a beautiful day; do you not agree?” Audrey said.

“Yes, I do,” Pearl replied. “We have been on a train for a few days now. I cannot wait until we are done.”

Audrey’s eyes went wide. “You do not like the train? I believe it is rather charming.”

Pearl laughed softly. “Not when you are on it for several days non-stop.”

“Well, it would be rather discomforting, I suppose.”

“Is this your first time on a train?”

Audrey smiled sheepishly. “No, it is not. All the other rides I have taken were a rather quick affair. This is my first trip lasting longer than a few hours.”

“We are headed to Oregon!” William blurted.

Audrey smiled. “How wonderful! What kind of adventure are you going to take first, young sir?”

William clambered over his mother. He licked his lips and smiled, revealing several missing teeth. “I wanna get me a big ol’ black bear and mount him on my bedroom wall.”

Audrey gasped. “Sounds ferocious. However, will you take on such a beast?”

“My Pa is gonna get me a big rifle to take ‘em down.”

“Where are you headed Audrey?”

Audrey fiddled with her hands. “Denver. I am heading to my new job. I got hired as a teacher.”

Audrey was rather surprised with herself. She’d never lied before and grimaced slightly. It came out easier than she expected it to. She glanced out the window momentarily, taking a deep breath.

I can do this, she reminded herself.

William groaned. Pearl pinched her son, calling his actions rude. Audrey smiled at the boy. She too, loathed school at some point in her life. It had to be around the time she was learning Greek after finishing French. Audrey shuddered. She will more than likely never use Greek for the rest of her life but now it was crammed into her head, taking up space.

“Are you cold, Audrey?” Pearl asked.

Audrey laughed softly. “No, I am not. I shuddered at the thought of seeing a bear.”

Pearl chuckled. “I shudder at the thought myself. My husband Bryan went to Oregon to be a fur trapper. Now that he is settled out west, we sold our home in Ohio to join him.”

“That sounds absolutely exciting!” Audrey exclaimed.

The car door opened again. Audrey glanced behind her, seeing Jack return with a cart. He strolled up with a smile.

“Good afternoon, fine ladies and little gentleman, care for some refreshments?” Jack asked.

William whined for some licorice. Pearl scolded him and told Jack no. Audrey took several coins out of her purse and purchased some licorice and other candies. Jack left with a smile. William stared at her with wide eyes.

“Oh goodness,” Audrey exclaimed. “I am sorely afraid I have purchased too many sweets. William, could you be a dear and help me eat these?”

Pearl smirked, giving her a nod. William looked to his mother who nodded.

“You have to be a sweet, well-behaved boy for your mother.”

William raised his right hand. “I do so swear.”

Audrey hid a smile, handing him all the black licorice as it was her least favorite. Just thinking about the awful taste made her shudder.

“Thank you, Miss Audrey. Say, if you are my teacher, instead of letter grades, how about pieces of candy?”

Audrey laughed. “I will consider the request, William.”

“Oh good. I am sure you would get a lot more kids to pay attention that way.”

Audrey made a face and nodded. “Oh yes,” she stated in a firmer voice. “Very astute reasoning there, my dear boy.”

“Where did ya get that necklace?”

Audrey smiled as she touched it. “It was my mothers. Inside is a picture of her and my father on their wedding day. It is all I have left of her.”

Pearl put a hand to her heart. “I am so sorry for you, Dear.”

Audrey smiled wanly, “It is all right. It was a long time ago.”

Pearl spoke of her husband and their family. Most of hers were back in Ohio while his were in Michigan. Pearl spoke of them for quite some time. Audrey had no idea how much family she had. The only people she knew of were Georgiana and Thomas Coldaire, her father’s sister and nephew. After hours of listening to Pearl talk about her family, Audrey wanted a family like Pearl’s someday.

The train whistle blew loudly, garnering their attention. Audrey beamed as Jack announced they were now in Kansas City. Audrey felt her insides tingle with excitement.

“Audrey, you must dine with us tonight,” Pearl insisted.

Audrey reached out and shook Pearl’s hand. “I would be absolutely delighted. Thank you for the invitation.”

“We are headed to the Silver Spoon, a dining hotel.”

“Sounds wonderful. I shall seek accommodations there myself.”

Jack ushered them off the train, standing on the wooden platform to help them down. Audrey’s smile covered her jittery insides.

I made it, she thought. I am Jane Eyre. I can “blaze my own trail” as I have heard some others say. Audrey took a deep breath, taking in the bustling town. First thing, I need a room and to get refreshed. Second, I need to purchase a ticket for Denver. Audrey beamed at a woman and her husband in a wagon. I can do this.

People smiled. Men tipped their hat to her. Audrey followed Pearl as she seemed to know the way.

Today was the beginning of a grand adventure, made more perfect with new friends.

Audrey settled into her room. It was small and quaint, with a metal framed bed under the window. A small dresser was to her left. A wash basin sat on top with a cracked standing mirror. The floor hadn’t been swept in a while; dust bunnies accumulated in the corner.

Audrey inhaled deeply. The room she had was cheap enough, leaving her with a substantial sum left in her coin purse. Audrey glanced at the small wall clock, announcing the time as fifteen to five. Her stomach rumbled. She checked her mouse brown hair in the mirror. Pulling at her skin, she checked her green eyes for bags and pinched her cheeks for some color. After quickly washing her face with cold water, she felt refreshed. The dust and grime from riding the train came off on the towel.

With a smile in the mirror, she turned on her heel and exited. She strode down the long hallway and the stairs, turning to the left where she entered a different world, abruptly departing the rugged pioneer entering into the fanciful taste of the east coast. It stunned her for a moment. She wasn’t expecting such a change. If she were honest with herself, she was a bit disappointed. She was leaving all this opulence behind simply to find it at the hotel she chose to stay at.

She stood back for a moment, pushing aside her disappointment and looking about the room for her newly acquainted friends to dine with. Audrey spied them over to the right. She walked over with a pep in her step. Audrey sat on the outside chair next to the walkway. The little boy sat across from her, drinking his water with a spoon.

“William,” Pearl scolded, “do not slurp.”

“Sorry Mama.”

A waitress came over, bringing Audrey some water. The waitress leaned over Audrey with a quick “excuse me,” handing Pearl a newspaper.

Audrey took a sip of water, slurping it like William, winking at him from above her spoon. The boy laughed.

Audrey whispered, “It is amusing,” she chuckled.

William leaned over, whispering back, “I know.”

The waitress came back taking their order. After she left, Pearl began reading the paper aloud softly, but only the little tidbits Pearl found interesting like scandals - especially the Soapy Smith ones. Audrey added her amusement as she giggled and asked Pearl to have the paper when she was finished. William sat, listening enraptured to his mother. Pearl told him about what the sheriff had been doing according to the stories in the paper. The boy’s eyes lit up, going wide as the sheriff single handedly took out three wanted criminals with a gun firing shoot-out.

“Mama, I want to be a sheriff,” William stated.

Pearl smiled lovingly down at her son. “I thought you wanted to be a trapper like your Pa?”

William shook his head. “Naw, well… sorta. I wanna catch bad guys too. Maybe I can be both.”

“Listen to his speech,” Pearl said with a wink. “You are in the presence of a teacher and you talk like you are uneducated.”

“Oh Mama,” William gave a lopsided grin. “That’s what school is for.”

Audrey laced her fingers, putting them in her lap. She straightened her back, gazing at young William, “Well, in my classroom, you will speak and write correctly. It is not ‘wanna’ it is ‘I would like to’ and it is not ‘sorta’ it is ‘sort of’.”

“Well, my Pa doesn’t care,” William retorted.

“Your father may not care, but being a respectable sheriff will make a difference. Sheriff’s duties include writing papers, talking publicly, attending courts and meetings. There is a lot of etiquette to being a sheriff.”

William looked at her dejectedly, then turned to his mother. “I will speak proper from now on, Mother.”

Pearl winked at her.

Their food was served in a flourish of people. At least four different people came out bringing all the food they’d ordered. Pearl picked up the paper again, reading the front of the paper this time. Pearl gasped. Audrey took a sip of wine.

“Oh Audrey!” Pearl exclaimed. “There is a kidnapped heiress out of St. Louis.”

Audrey spit out her wine barely catching it in her cloth napkin. “Come again?” Audrey asked, coughing and dabbing her lips. William laughed.

“William!” Pearl scolded again. “Eighteen-year-old Audrey Whitman has been kidnapped. A reward offered for any information about her whereabouts. Oh, how awfully tragic. Her poor family. And how incredible, you share the name.”

Audrey peered out the window, sipping her wine. “Indeed,” she commented. “However, my last name is Lucas and not Whitman.” And how fortunate for me they didn’t put a description in the paper.

Pearl folded the paper exasperatedly, “Well, enough of that dreary news. Let’s eat.”

Audrey picked at her food, I am going to have to be more cautious.

Audrey bid Pearl and William a good sleep, promising to be on the next train with them. Little did they know, she had no intentions of being there. Audrey felt horrible for lying.

She stopped by the front desk to inquire about assistance with finding a dress shop. However, the line was long, so Audrey left. Pearl and William passed in front of her, nodding and waving to her as they went to their own chamber. Audrey gave a smile although, she felt it forced.

I cannot even imagine Jane Eyre lying, she is much too forthright for such a devious thing, Audrey thought. And yet… Mine is unfortunately necessary. Audrey tucked her brown hair behind her ear. I do not want to go back to St. Louis. It may be a bit dramatic, but I truly think I may die if I have to marry Thomas.

She stumbled up the stairs to her bedroom. She walked past three closed doors with interesting sounds coming out of the third one. She made a face. Goodness, Audrey thought, I wonder what Ms. Eyre would have to say. Audrey pondered a moment. I suppose something along the lines of ‘I would always rather be happy than dignified’. Audrey pressed the back of her hand to her smiling lips.

She opened her chamber room, shutting it gently behind her. The noises from next door thankfully muffled. She let out a deep breath. A lantern lit the top of the wardrobe. Audrey stopped in front of the mirror, wondering how she could change her look. Carefully, she took the pins out of her hair, letting it fall past her shoulders in ringlets. She looked down at her blue taffeta dress, comparing it to the simple yellow one Pearl wore.

“I need new clothing,” she said to herself.

Audrey braided her hair back off her face, wondering if other people wore their hair like she was. She turned toward the bed, sitting on the edge. Audrey sighed deeply, hanging her head.

I miss the ease of home, my bedroom and the like, Audrey thought. But I do not miss being told what to do, whom I ought to speak with or write letters to. I do not miss my aunt or my cousin who have never uttered a kind word to me and who made me feel like a prisoner. In the Bible – When you go through deep waters, I will be with you. Audrey raised her head, staring defiantly at the door. I love my freedom, my ability to choose. I love this adventure.

Horses whinnied. Audrey glanced outside, seeing a massive herd of cattle being driven through town. Audrey gasped, clambering on the bed to gaze out the window. A smile split her face. She watched men drive the animals through the town. They whistled and yelled, moving swiftly and calculated. The horses jolted from left to right, keeping the cattle in a line. The men rugged, their tattered clothing dusty from travel. Some appeared to have not shaved in weeks. And as quickly as they came through town, they left.

Audrey laid her head in her arms and sighed eyes still on the cloud of dust in the distance. How much freedom these men must have from living a grand life. They could marry whomever they chose. They could live wherever their hearts desired. No galas, gowns and boorish propriety.

Audrey spun away from the window, going back to the mirror. She gawked at herself for a long time, gauging how much she truly changed over the past few days. Her pale skin seemed to have a sun-kissed glow. She learned how to book a train ticket, find accommodations, and pay for meals. Audrey was proud of herself. She learned a lot but there was still so much she did not know.

Audrey tilted her head and scowled, catching her green eyes sparkling from the reflection in the window. “I can learn and have my freedom too like those men do.” She glanced out the window. “I want a life like that.”

Audrey startled at a knock coming from her door along with a muffled, “Good evenin’ ma’am. My name’s Mary, last name Celeste. Do you need anything? I saw you in the line earlier.”

Audrey called out, climbing off the bed, “One moment.” She walked over to the door, opening it a wide crack and peeking through. A blond-haired young woman stared at her with a smile and a small gap between her front teeth. The hems of her dress were worn and slightly tattered, but didn’t take away from the brightness of her smile or the sparkle in her blue eyes.

After a moment of uncomfortable silence, Mary dipped into a curtsy. “Mary ma’am. Can I get you anything?” She held out her hand and looked expectantly at Audrey.

Audrey clasped Mary’s hand and shook it gently. “Audrey. I would like to find a dress shop to purchase a more suitable traveling garment.”

“Well ma’am I can take tomorrow off and take you there myself.”

Audrey smiled. “How wonderfully generous of you. I do not wish to put you out.”

Mary held up her hands. “No problem at all miss. They were overstaffed for tomorrow anyways. I’d be happy to oblige ya.”

“You are too much. Thank you.”

Mary nodded, offering a friendly smile. “See you in the mornin’ Audrey. Good sleep.” She waved, walking off down the hallway.

Audrey smiled back. “Thank you, Mary. Good sleep.”

Audrey locked the door for the night. With a contented sigh, she twirled in her room. Happily, she undressed into her underclothes, hanging up her blue dress on a peg on the back of the door. Taking her coin purse with her, she tucked it under her pillow.

I have made a friend of my own, and not someone from a school, Audrey thought. Today has been a wonderful day.

Audrey glanced outside, the streets slowly emptying of people as the sky darkened. She laid on the bed, hands behind her head with a smile that refused to fade.

“Lord, today was an adventure. Keep Pearl and William safe on their travels to Oregon. And tomorrow, I get to explore with a new friend,” she prayed. “Tomorrow will be even grander. Thank you, Lord, for all my blessings.”

Eugene sat with Wilfred Darrow in the private dining room at a local St. Louis gentlemen's club. He glanced at the older man, contemplating his past with him. He liked Darrow. Not only was the man his employer in this, and other cases, but Darrow was a colleague, one Eugene admired greatly since he too, rose up from nothing, becoming the most elite lawyer on the east coast. And here he handed Eugene a case that could very well launch his career, getting him noticed by the aristocratic society.

The old lawyer twirled his glass of brandy in one hand before not so gently slamming it down. The noise grabbed Eugene’s attention. Looking up from his meal and his thoughts, Eugene noticed the perturbed lines crease the lawyer’s countenance.

Darrow had been silent since they left the Coldaire Estate, aside from ordering his brandy and steak. Eugene chewed his food and went over every scenario imaginable that might have taken place for the young woman Audrey. Nothing jumped out at him to point him in a definite direction in regards to what happened to her. Everything seemed suspicious regarding her disappearance, from the carriage to her family.

Eugene rolled his eyes, Georgiana is about as inviting as small pox and Thomas is a pompous, reeking pig. If Audrey did not runaway, I would be very surprised. Eugene raked his fingers through his hair. Hopefully Darrow has some ideas, he thought perking a brow at Darrow, waiting for him to speak.

Darrow’s face scrunched. “I am not sure what happened to Audrey and this frustrates me to no end,” he said with a slight English accent. “I do not believe she was murdered. She is worth far more alive. Unless one of her idiot relatives did way with her. But they aren’t smart enough to plan her murder,” Darrow scoffed.

Eugene agreed with a nod of his head. “There was no ransom note though.”

This time Darrow nodded.

Eugene pulled out the notes he took on the carriage and speaking with Rafe. With a breath, he scanned the documents while also wracking his memory of what he saw. There was no blood anywhere on the carriage. The rips and tears were made in a rapid hurry while the window was carelessly smashed and nowhere near the handle.

He pursed his lips. This was a peculiar case. Audrey Whitman’s room was immaculately clean. Every doll, trinket, and luxury set just right. She appeared to live the life of a coddled toddler. Everything Audrey could ever desire was at her fingertips for the taking. And nothing was taken in her disappearance. Yet something nagged at him.

However, Eugene thought, the more I think on this, the more I find her disappearance disturbing. This might be the toughest case I ever took.

“Could she have kidnapped herself to escape her family?” Eugene asked, strumming his fingers on the table.

Darrow shrugged. “Possibly, but not likely. I’ve watched Audrey grow up from afar. Her father and I were colleagues, and even with her … interesting relatives, Audrey was always much too obedient for nonsense.”

The old lawyer ran his hands through what was left of his hair. The top of his hair lined receded into his head. Gray and silver hairs peppered themselves around the hair that was left. A woman came in removing their finished plates of supper.

“The meal was delightful. Thank you,” Eugene complimented the fare.

The woman flashed him a bright smile. “I’m pleased you enjoyed it, sir.”

Her light brown hair was tightly coiffed at the nape of her neck, and sparkling blue eyes held his for a moment. Eugene smiled. She was a pretty woman; one he would have liked to come to know. However, with this new case, he would be leaving shortly to investigate. She tucked hair behind her ear, offering a smile in return, while collecting the plates on a tray.

“Fine meal,” Darrow added. “More brandy and another glass when you get a moment.” He said holding his almost empty glass up.

Eugene withheld a groan. He disliked brandy. But knowing Wilfred did love the drink, being polite demanded he take a few sips.

“Yes, of course sir,” she replied, taking the full tray with her.

Eugene moved from the dining table to a cushioned chair by the fire. Darrow joined him, sitting across from him with his glass of brandy in hand.

“What did you find?” Darrow asked.

“The carriage torn to pieces. Too much energy went into making the slash markings for it to be murder. There was no blood either which is unusual if it is being considered a murder. I believe Audrey has been kidnapped.”

“Agreed,” Darrow said, smacking his lips after taking a swig.

The serving woman came back with a silver tray. Another small glass with a decanter of brandy resting on top. She smiled shyly at him, dipping out of the room before he could thank her. Eugene inwardly cringed. Wilfred reached over, filling Eugene’s glass halfway then filling his own to the brim.

“Audrey is a sunny girl, bright, and full of love,” Darrow said after a swig. “This greatly angers, and saddens me. I fear greatly for her safety.”

“I would like a list of all her friends, acquaintances and contacts. And a portrait if you have it please,” Eugene replied, taking out a piece of paper and a pencil.

Darrow leaned forward, handing him a miniature of Audrey. The lawyer began listing names the girls from the finishing schools Audrey attended. Eugene wrote down every new contact that wasn’t on the papers from earlier, annoyed at all the inquiries he would have to make from all the friends this woman accumulated. After the meeting, Eugene decided to head straight to the telegrams office to begin sending queries.

I have eighteen to send to her friends alone, not to mention all the telegrams to the sheriffs from St Louis to San Francisco, Eugene thought.

Eugene scowled. “I will find her.”

Darrow got out of the chair, groaning. “These old bones. I know you will find Audrey. It is why I hired you for this case especially. I admire your tenacity. Those thieving Coldaire’s want what Audrey has. I would rather not give it to them if I can help it.”

Eugene stood, shaking the lawyer’s hand. “I have some work to do, then.”

Darrow shook his head. “Here are some monies to get you on your way,” Darrow said, handing him an envelope of bills. “I have kept an eye on her from afar. And I love the girl like she were my own flesh and blood. Find her for me. Bring my goddaughter home. Night, Eugene.”

“I’ll do my best. Night, Wilfred.”

Eugene looked over the list then glanced at the clock on the wall. Even though it was seven in the evening, he was going to telegram each and every one of these people. Eugene contemplated a missing person’s poster, but decided against it. A poster would welcome unwanted troubles. It was the last thing he needed in case Audrey was not abducted.

He went out into the humid evening air. The clack of his footsteps drowned out the whickering of horses. It was soothing to his racing mind. Voices were buzzing as shopkeepers closing down for the night. A few people milled outside begging the shop-keeps to open up for a few more moments while others closed their doors with a bang. Men walked alongside their women, taking them home after a day of shopping. The train whistle blew for the last time that evening. Its sharp tone rang through the air. Eugene made a mental note to head there next.

Eugene paused by a newspaper stand, flipping the boy a nickel for the paper. The headline read “Missing Billionaire Audrey Whitman’. Eugene folded the paper angrily under his arm, storming off toward the telegram office. He paused in the middle of the walkway, yanking the paper from beneath his arm, his dread not allowing him to wait to read the story.

Thomas Coldaire reported his beloved cousin missing after her carriage was found shredded to pieces behind an abandoned warehouse. The eighteen-year-old billionaire heiress of the late Philip Whitman went missing two days ago after stopping to order an arrangement of flowers for her aunt.

Eugene rolled his eyes. “Of course, the brainless dandy did.”

He stormed into the sheriff’s office.

“Sheriff, I am Pinkerton Eugene Turner, and I am investigating Audrey Whitman,”

The sheriff held up a hand, interrupting, “No need. She’s dead.”

He paused a moment, taking in the pungent aroma of alcohol and vomit. The sheriff’s shirt was unbuttoned at the top, and stained. His face unshaved. The man swayed on his feet, plopping down in the chair behind him that screeched across the wooden floor from the sudden force.

Eugene rolled his shoulders back. “I beg to differ. No body was found and no blood at the scene.”

The man scowled. “I investigated, Pinkerton Eugene. The woman is dead. Please get back on the train to the town in which you came. Case is closed.”

Eugene nodded. “Perfect. I shall be sure to do so and have your job by the end of next week when I find her alive… Sheriff Johnson. Have a great evening.”

He stormed out the office, slamming the door behind him.

“Now just you wait,” Sheriff Johnson called. The high-pitched clatter of the chair bouncing reverberated from the office. Eugene paused outside the door. Sheriff Johnson stumbled, opening the door forcefully. It slammed against the wall on the other side.

“What is it you need, Mr. Turner.” He asked gruffly.

Eugene scowled. The tone and manner of this man repulsed him. “Shut down the missing persons ad Thomas Coldaire has done. I do not need unwanted attention.”

Sheriff Johnson ran a hand over his face. “Will do. Anything else?”

“Find another job,” Eugene stated.

He strolled down the wooden walkway and into the dirt streets. A lantern lit the inside of the telegraph office a few doors away.

Excellent, still open, he thought.

“Good evening,” Eugene called to the man inside.

The wiry looking man glanced up from his stack of papers. “Evening, sir. How can I help you?”

“Evening. I am Pinkerton Eugene Turner. I’m investigating a missing persons case and need some telegrams sent with some confidentiality, if you please. Send this message post haste to Kansas City, Denver, Amarillo, San Francisco, San Antonio and Philly.” Eugene ticked each city off on his fingers as he said them.

The man eyes widened. “Yes, sir. What will the message state? Same for all the major cities, sir?”

“Yes, same for all the major cities. Message is – contact Wilfred Darrow in St. Louis if missing heiress Audrey Whitman arrives, stop. Pinkerton Turner, stop.”

“Excellent. It will be done.”

Eugene nodded. “Thank you.” Eugene pulled out his notes on Audrey’s friends and their locations, sliding it over to the postmaster. “Send a message to these ladies. The message will state – contact Wilfred Darrow in St. Louis with any information regarding Audrey Whitman and her location, stop. Pinkerton Eugene Turner, stop.”

The man squinted his beady eyes, focusing on his handwriting. “Anything else, sir?”

“No thank you. That’s all for the moment,” Eugene stated, shuffling through the bills Darrow left him. He slipped fifteen dollars over to the postmaster. “I don’t need change. Thank you.”

The man nodded his head eagerly, his eyes wide, barely suppressing a grin. “Right away, sir.”

Eugene dipped his head, striding away from the telegraph office heading toward the train station two streets over. The train engineers and conductors were outside the train talking and laughing. Eugene made for them, hoping they would have seen Audrey. He needed some leads. According to the carriage driver Rafe, she was in a blue frilly dress, more than likely taffeta.

“Evening,” Eugene called from a ways away.

The three men by the train scowled.

“Next train leaves tomorrow mornin’,” one hollered back.

“Eugene Turner, Pinkerton,” he announced, drawing near. “I’m looking for Audrey Whitman. Last seen in St. Louis wearing a sky-blue taffeta dress, with brown hair and green eyes. Have you seen her?”

All three men shook their heads.

He walked away. “Thanks,” he called over his shoulder.

Eugene grumbled to himself. Still, it didn’t hurt him to look and ask around. Someone must have seen her. Eugene had yet to encounter someone who simply vanished. If so, Audrey Whitman would be the absolute first.

Audrey woke refreshed. The sun warmed her through the sheer white curtains. The raucous din of the streets below wafted up. The shrill train whistle blew. Horses whinnied, startled at the sudden noise; their owners cursing their frustration as they struggled to control the animals. Audrey rolled over and grabbed her pocket watch from the little table next to the bed.

She sighed with regret. “It cannot be helped. I do not desire to be exposed this short into my journey and I need better traveling garments. No matter how warm the bed is, the day has started.”

With a yawn and a stretch, she threw the sheets off, her bare feet hitting the cold wooden floor. Audrey wriggled her toes and relished the cold. She always fancied the sharp coldness of the floors in the morning. It was better than coffee when waking her up. Turning around, facing the bed, she wondered how she should leave it. She tried to remember what it looked like before she got in, but her memory was foggy. She pulled the blankets over the pillow and tried to smooth out the wrinkles. With a shrug, she went to the wash basin and washed her face.

A knock sounded at the door.

“Just a moment!” Audrey yelled, scrambling to get ready.

“Mornin’,” Mary yelled through the door. “I’ll wait, but you’d better hurry. It’s goin’ to be a mite busy in a bit.”

Audrey looked at her watch, brows furrowed. “It is not even eight o’clock.”

Mary giggled. “The day is startin’, so’s people from outta Kansas City are getting’ here and their shoppin’ done early. Then after the next train, those peoples will be leaving. The shop-keeps have the best deals first thing in the mornin’. If we’re gunna beat the locals, we need to get goin’.”

Audrey left a water splattered mess on the table, drying her face with her slip skirt. Raking her fingers quickly through her thick, long brown hair, she braided and pinned it at the nape of her neck. With a skip in her step, she dressed, realizing now the foolishness of not taking at least one change of clothing. She laced her dress and pulled on her small shoes.

With a bright smile, she threw open the door. Without a single care to aristocratic propriety, she gave the waiting girl a hug.

“Thank you for being such a dear, and taking me shopping. I hope I did not put you out,” Audrey said to a stiff Mary.

Mary pulled back with a tight-lipped smile, patting Audrey’s shoulder while stepping away. “Naw. I took the day off to help you. I traded workin’ days, here at the hotel, with another gal, so it ain’t much trouble at all.”

Audrey stepped forward to hug Mary again, not seeming to notice her back away. “Good Lord, you are such a wonderful dear!”

Mary climbed out of Audrey’s embrace, patting her hand. “Think nothin’ of it. Let’s get goin’ to Doreen’s Dresses. She is about to open up.”

Audrey double checked she had everything. Her rings were on, and her bracelet. She ran back in to grab her coin purse, fastening it to her secret pocket while Mary waited outside the door. Walking back out after one final check, Mary led her down the stairs, out the hotel doors and into the bustling city and bright sunshine.

Immediately, Audrey was struck with the busy-ness of the world around her. Mothers dragged their children down the wooden walkways ignoring the protests of their whining offspring. Men spat tobacco on the ground, avoiding the ladies, while gossiping about the early morning happenings. A man stood outside the barber shop, white shirt neatly pressed with black bands on his arms, waving at all the pretty ladies as they passed.

Oh my, Audrey thought, this is grander than I ever expected. It’s so unlike the novels and penny reads. Those stories do not accurately describe the industriousness and vivaciousness. A smile crept its way across her face. Her green eyes soaked in all the fanciful lives she imagined these people lived. This is wondrous. All the stores, all the people! All the freedom!

Mary held onto her hand, taking her left out of the dining hotel and into the stream of folks. Men trotted their horses through town, tipping their hat to her. Audrey smiled back. She watched Mary, her blue eyes scanning intently the flow of the street.

“How long have you been on your own?” Audrey asked.

“For seven years now. Since I was thirteen.” Mary answered.

Audrey dipped her head toward a group of children. They stood a few yards down the walkway, staring at her. She waved at them with her free hand. A boy in front, no older than twelve, pulled his bowler down over his eyes and quirked a smile.

“Have you always worked at the hotel?” Audrey asked pulling her attention away from the boy.

“Nope. I worked at a mercantile before.”

The children Audrey noticed approached, surrounding them on one side. Audrey’s eyes widened. The kids grabbed at her clothes. Mary swatted away some of the unruly, dirty children that were bouncing around them. “Get, you thievin’ little rats!” Mary yelled.

Audrey put a hand to her chest. Just like Dickens, she thought. She scowled, following Mary. “Why on earth would you call them that?”

Mary spun around to look at her briefly. “Because,” she stated, watching the children scamper away, “they are tryin’ to steal yer things. Yer new. You walk around all wide eyed and gawkin’ they know yer not from around here.”

“Oh,” Audrey said. “So, what should I do?”

Mary smiled. “Act like you know where yer goin’. Come along now. Those little urchins won’t bother us none.”

Audrey walked along with Mary, still holding her hand. She tried to look around out her peripheral but couldn’t see much.

“Watch where yer spittin’ that cud!” Mary yelled at a man sitting a few feet away.

“Cud?”

“Tobacco,” Mary said matter-of-fact. “Have you never been out much?”

Audrey shrugged. “Not until recently.”

Mary snorted.

“Mary,” Audrey began, “what is it like being on your own?”

Mary paused outside the dressmaker’s shop. “What d’ya mean?”

“Like earning money and sleeping all by yourself, putting your own roof over your head. Is it hard?”

Mary scowled, tapping a finger to her chin. “Naw. Long as you work and work hard, give no lip, you have food and a roof. It gets lonely but it ain’t difficult. Now, in you get. We’re here.”

Audrey walked in, immediately loving the plainness of some of the dresses. They were beautiful but not overly so like hers. All sorts of colors attracted her eye. She needed something plain like everyone had, like green. Lots of women wore green including Mary. A larger woman came out from the back, smiling as she came to her.

That was a preview of To Brave A Colorado River: Whitman Western Complete Series 1-9. To read the rest purchase the book.

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