A Changed Agent (8 page)

“I think Harry is doing a fine job of adjusting to the school.” Pulling the lantern closer to her, she set about getting ready to do her schoolwork. His silence seemed to take up all the space in the room. Not to be deterred, she continued her one-sided conversation.

“I’m quite sure Minnie will come along. I just wish she would speak.” She took a sip of tea. Gently, she sat the cup back in its place on the delicate saucer.

“In case I’ve forgotten, I’d like to thank you for moving my belongings into my quarters and, of course, for bringing in the firewood and lighting my stove.”

“Miss Mitchell! Do you always prattle on like this?”

The question exploded from him, causing her to jump. “There’s no need to raise your voice, Mr. Benton. I’m sitting right here. I can hear you perfectly well.”

“I apologize. But I told you, I don’t wish to engage in this . . .” At a loss for a phrase, he waved his hand in front of his face.

“Conversation.” She filled in. “We’re two adults carrying on a conversation, Mr. Benton. Have you really spent so much time by yourself that you’ve forgotten how to carry on one?”

Casting a stern look in her direction, he replied, “I have not. I’m not used to having so many people around me, that’s all, Miss Mitchell.” Coming to the table, he leaned on one of the chairs. “There is one thing you could do for me.”

Sitting up a bit taller, she brightened. “What is that, Mr. Benton?”

“You can stop calling me Mr. Benton. My name is Will.”

Calling a man by his given name was something she’d done only once before. That man had been Virgil Jensen, and he’d led her astray with his sweet talk. The bruise on her heart was still fresh. “I’m not sure how I feel about your request, Mr. Benton.”

“Tell you what, let’s give this calling each other by our given names a try right now.”

She stared up at him with her mouth agape. “I can’t just call you by your first name. It isn’t proper.”

“Elsie.”

Her heartbeat picked up. The way her name sounded coming from his deep, rich voice. Elsie squirmed in her chair. “Mr. Benton—”

“Will.” He interrupted her. “Call me Will, Elsie.” His mouth quirked up into a grin.

“Will.” She spoke his name and then quickly added, “We will only do this here, when we are in this house. In public I will call you Mr. Benton and you will address me as Miss Mitchell.”

His smile broadened. “Fair enough.” And then he turned and left the room.

Elsie sat there alone, the shadows cast from the lamplight dancing around her the only thing left in the room to keep her company. The papers beneath her fingertips reminded her that she’d more work to do before this day was finished. Yet she couldn’t concentrate.

He’d asked her to call him Will, like they were close companions. She knew that was far from the truth. Tonight one more barrier had come down. Sighing, she bent forward and focused on the task before her.

Chapter Eight

Will lay awake in his bed long before the sun rose, thinking about how smoothly the remainder of the week had gone. Elsie seemed to have a firm grip on the needs of the children, which gave him the time he needed to settle into this assignment. Miss Elsie Mitchell was an interesting woman. She was educated and gentle with the children, yet he sensed her reluctance to fully let her guard down. She was a smart woman with boundless energy. Yesterday, Saturday, he’d returned to the house after working all day at the lumberyard to find all the sheets and blankets hung up on lines stretched between just about every tree in the backyard.

True to her word, Elsie had laundered the bed linens. Together they’d brought them into the house. Elsie had shooed him outside to play with the children while she made up all the beds.

Will lay in his bed, which to him smelled like sunshine, feeling as if he were being swallowed whole. Most of his adult life he’d spent alone. Now every day he awoke to find Elsie there to greet him in the kitchen with a morning meal and fresh-brewed coffee. Since he was gone before Harry and Minnie arose, they were always waiting for him on the front porch after he finished his day.

Unaccustomed to being needed, Will didn’t know what to make of this turn in his life. He didn’t want to be encumbered by a family. That’s why he had agreed to hire Elsie in the first place. But he should have known that the children, with loss so fresh in their lives, in their hearts would be looking for affection from him. He was the only family they had now. Getting out of bed, he dressed and then stopped by the open door across the hall to check on Harry and Minnie.

The sight that greeted him almost brought him to his knees. Minnie lay with her back against Harry’s, her doll Hazel safely nestled inside her arms. Her golden hair had come loose from the ribbon Elsie tied it with every night. Tendrils of curls lay across her delicate cheek. Harry lay with his chin resting on his hands. Their faces looked so innocent and serene.

Will knew he had to bring the bond thief to justice so they could all get on with their lives . . . wherever the road ahead would take them. He’d never imagined himself a family man. His only worry had been for himself and taking on the next assignment.

Though now, seeing these children and realizing the part they played in his life, and looking forward to seeing them at the end of each day, Will thought that perhaps his future could be different from what he’d intended.

Today was Sunday, and that meant only one thing. Elsie was going to expect him to accompany her to church. Will hoped he’d made himself clear when he told her he wouldn’t be promising anything. Today was the busiest day for the saloon. He fully intended to be there to learn more about the whereabouts of the bond thief. Elsie and the children could go to the service without him.

Turning away from the children’s bedroom, he walked down the stairs into the kitchen. Soft sunlight spilled in through the windows, covering the day with hope. He noticed right away that Elsie hadn’t been to the kitchen yet.

He stoked the cook stove and then lit a match under the front burner. Taking the coffee percolator to the sink, he filled it with water and then added a few scoops of coffee grounds to the hopper. Replacing the lid, he set the pot on the burner. While he waited for the water to percolate, Will decided he could start the porridge. He measured the oats and water into a pot on the back of the stove. Then he took down four bowls and added them to the table setting along with spoons.

He looked up at the sound of Elsie’s apartment door creaking open. The sunlight slanted across the room, landing on her. Her long dark hair hung down her back in a single braid. Still in her nightclothes, she looked startled to see him. Tightening the sash around her waist, she smoothed down the front of her dark-colored wrapper.

“I didn’t expect to find you here,” she said in a sleepy voice, her gaze darting to the stove where the porridge had just started to bubble over.

Without thinking, he grabbed the pot handle, then yelped as pain shot through his hand. He dropped the pot into the sink. The hot, thick liquid spilled down the side toward the drain.

Elsie flew across the room.

“Oh dear! Are you injured, Will?”

Her soft, curvy body brushed against his as she reached around him to grab a towel off the rack above the sink. Giving the water handle a few swift pumps, she ran the towel under the cold water.

Then, pressing the cold cloth against his hand, she scolded, “You shouldn’t have troubled yourself with preparing the morning meal. That’s part of my job.”

Pulling his hand out of hers, he said, “I wanted to help you out.”

Her gaze softened.

“I didn’t mean to yell at you. You scared me. I thought you’d been seriously injured.”

Peeling the cold compress away, he assessed the damage. His palm was the color of a beet. Thankfully, it didn’t look as if his fingers had gotten burned. He didn’t think there would be any blisters, but he gave Elsie the towel to drench in the icy-cold well water once more. Taking the wrung-out cloth from her, he used his free hand to tighten it around the wound. How would she have reacted if she’d known about all the serious injuries he’d suffered because of his job?

He flexed his fingers, testing out the severity of the burn. Feeling nothing more than a stinging, he said, “Let me clean up this mess and start the porridge again.”

Folding her arms, she stared at him. “Absolutely not! You sit yourself down at the table. I’ll get your coffee, which I see is also bubbling onto the stove. And then I’ll take care of breakfast. Dear me, Mr. Benton . . .”

“Will,” he said, reminding her of their agreement. Turning around as the coffee hissed and steamed onto the stovetop, he saw another mess of his doing.

“Will. You really need to leave these chores to me.”

Sinking into the chair at the head of the table, he couldn’t agree with her more. He watched as she moved confidently around the kitchen, preparing another batch of porridge, to which she added dried apples and a pinch of cinnamon. Now, why hadn’t he thought of that? She sat a cup of hot coffee in front of him. He took a sip and thanked her.

Taking his coffeepot from the burner, she set her kettle of tea water in its place. He could get used to this. But he knew better than to think past today. No one knew what the future held. He could end up closing out the current case he was working on in a few weeks’ time. When that happened, he would need to decide what he was going to do. This was the first time Will had ever doubted his dedication to the Pinkertons.

Then again, this case could take months to settle out. The children would have made a home here. It wasn’t going to be long before Harry brought some of his schoolmates home to play. And Minnie . . . Will didn’t think the child could take much more upheaval in her life.

It wasn’t easy for him to admit, but for the first time in his entire life he finally had a place he considered a home. Elsie and the children were working their way into his carefully orchestrated life.

“Penny for your thoughts.” Elsie spoke with her back to him as she stirred the porridge.

“Not for sale.” Will hadn’t meant the words to come out sounding gruff, but apparently they did because Elsie turned to look over her shoulder at him. He didn’t quite meet her eyes. Instead, he turned to stare out the window, where another seemingly peaceful Adirondack day continued to unfold.

“I wonder what the reverend will preach about today. I’ve missed his Sunday services. While I was visiting my aunt and uncle, they took me to one of the big cathedrals in Albany. I must say I like our little church much better.”

Will didn’t know how to respond to her conversation, so he remained silent.

“You do have church clothes, don’t you?” she asked.

“Elsie.” He used a warning tone. “I know you’ve got your sights set on my attending services with you.”

She fisted her hands at her hips. “You agreed to my terms of employment, Mr. Benton.”

“You agreed to call me Will,” he countered.

“Not when I’m angry with you.” Her cheeks pinkened.

He worked at ignoring how pretty she looked when she got angry. “I told you if time allowed, I would go. I’ve a busy day ahead of me. John needs me to look into an altercation that took place at one of the lumber camps up in the north woods. As a matter of fact, I should be leaving soon if I’m going to be back home before dark.”

Her toe started tapping and Will knew trouble was brewing.

“You won’t be setting a good example for the children.”

“I’ll be teaching them responsibility.”

“Not the right kind of responsibility.”

“My providing for them is setting a good example, Elsie. I don’t need you to tell me that I’m wrong to do so.”

Silence descended. Elsie turned the heat down on the porridge and then left the room. She closed her apartment door behind her with such force that the pans hanging along the wall rattled. He heard something fall to the floor and then the sound of Elsie’s voice. Though he couldn’t make out what she said, he could only guess her anger was directed at him. Will didn’t know what to make of her actions.

Rising from the chair, he went to her door and knocked. “Elsie?”

She didn’t answer, although he thought he heard the sound of a drawer being closed. Trying again, he called out a bit louder. “Elsie, please open your door.”

“Is there something wrong with Miss Mitchell, Uncle Will?”

The sound of Harry’s voice startled him. He said to Harry, “She’s fine. Just upset with something I said is all.” He was surprised to see them dressed in their Sunday best. Even Minnie’s doll Hazel wore a different outfit. And now that he took a closer look, he saw that the pretty blue-flowered dress was a perfect match to the one Minnie wore.

“It’s church day, Uncle Will. Miss Mitchell laid our clothes out for us last night before we went to bed. You aren’t wearing that, are you?” Harry pointed at Will’s worn work pants and flannel shirt.

“What’s wrong with what I’ve got on?”

“Ma always said you should put your best self forward when going to church. And you’re wearing your work clothes.”

He hadn’t thought about his sister in a long time. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d shared a meal with her. Maybe it had been that time at Christmas when he’d been passing through between assignments. That would make it at least five years ago. The twins had been toddlers. Will doubted they would remember.

“You’re right, Harry.” Pain filled his heart as he thought about the loss of his sister. “Your mama would scold me if she could see me now.”

“She said you always squirmed during church services.”

He frowned at the memory. He had indeed squirmed his way through many a church service, mainly because he’d thought it was cruel and inhuman to expect a child to sit through an hour and a half of listening to Preacher Bailey go on about the Good Book.
That man could quote chapter and verse. Seemed like he never found much of the good in the Good Book to preach about, though.
Perhaps that was another reason Will had strayed from the church.

He ladled the hot porridge into the bowls and set one in front of each of the twins. Then he added a splash of milk from the pitcher and a drizzle of honey out of the small pot Elsie kept on the window sill.

Harry stuck the spoon into his bowl and slurped a big mouthful of the oatmeal. He said, “You better get dressed, Uncle Will, or you’ll make us late.”

“What have I told you about talking with your mouth full, Harry?” Elsie said, walking into the kitchen wearing her Sunday dress. The fabric was the color of springtime buttercups. She’d taken her hair out of the braid and wore it lose. The curls spilled softly over her shoulders, down to the middle of her back.

His own breakfast forgotten, Will stared at her, thinking how lovely she looked. She avoided looking at him, busying herself by wiping Minnie’s mouth. Then she sat down at the opposite side of the table. Taking the cloth napkin from the place setting, she took great pains to smooth the fabric just so over her lap.

“Harry and Minnie, you did a fine job of getting ready for church. I’m very proud of you.” Still avoiding Will’s gaze, she asked, “Did you remember to say grace?”

Harry looked toward him for guidance. Will sighed, rolling his shoulders. It seemed he couldn’t do anything right today. “We didn’t get that far,” he answered for Harry.

“Are you going to be joining us, Mr. Benton?”

Pulling out his chair, he sat back down and folded his hands in front of his bowl while Elsie recited grace. Afterward, he listened while Harry chattered with Elsie about the approaching church service. She promised him they could stay for lemonade and cookies if he and Minnie behaved themselves during the service. This news made his nephew very happy.

Swinging his attention back to him, Harry urged, “Uncle Will, you best be hurrying to get ready!”

He lifted his gaze to look across the table at Elsie. Slowly, the reason she’d been upset with his earlier choice not to attend church began to sink in. He needed to set a good example for these children. He needed to do right by his sister. Certainly, he could give them an hour of his time. Besides which, the informant he wanted to meet with would be at the appointed place all day.

Clearing his throat, he replied, “Just give me a minute to change into something more appropriate.”