Wrapping his arms around Michael, he pulled him close and kissed him with the passion they had come to know between them. Joined from shoulder to knee, they lay quietly. Michael felt Stiles love radiating between them.

  “But if he touches you or even comes close to you, while we are on this assignment—I will cut his cock off! Now go to sleep.”

  Michael couldn’t help the smile spreading across his face. That was his lover, the one who made life worth living.

  A woman’s voice was raised in a high pitch as they entered the Pinkerton office the next morning. Lawrence sat behind his desk shaking his head back and forth as they entered.

  “She’s not happy about the arrangements,” he said.

  Stiles opened James’ office door and they entered to see a clearly upset Rochelle yelling at Reginald and James.

  “I am more than capable of working this assignment. It’s no different than any other I’ve worked on. Because six agents have been killed tracking these culprits down, doesn’t mean the same will happen to us,” she argued.

  “Welcome gentlemen,” James said. “Please join us.”

  “Miss Warrant, the agency knows you are quite capable, or they wouldn’t have sent you with Reginald. The fact we want you to pose as a widow in mourning has nothing to do with your ability. It’s an excellent cover which keeps you from direct contact with the gentlemen. It will allow you access to overhear discussions and get to know possible suspects,” James explained patiently.

  “Our other partner posed as several different characters during our tenure together,” Stiles offered. “No one would suspect you of listening to other people’s conversations. Maybe we could have you carrying an urn with your husband’s ashes to make it seem more real.”

  Rochelle tipped her head at Stiles suggestion.

  “I could talk to him,” she said. “People would think me touched in the head because of my grief.”

  “Exactly!” Stiles said. “Except, I was teasing. I really don’t think it would be appropriate for you to carry an urn.”

  Rochelle scowled at Stiles.

  “You’ll be taking the train to La Junita where you will switch to a train headed for Los Angeles. A connection there will take you to Santa Barbara, where you’ll report to the Pinkerton office. We have reason to believe that the center of the counterfeiters is there. The Secret Service were on that same train route,” James said.

  “How were they killed,” Michael asked. “It might give us an idea what to watch for.”

  “Each one was different. One stabbed, one shot, one strangled, and the last one was seen falling from the train as it crossed a trestle bridge. Since no one survived, we don’t know if the same killer or killers were on all the trains,” Reginald answered. “The agent who was stabbed lived long enough to tell a doctor who happened to be riding the train, that it was a man in a black hat. Of course, there are many men who wear black hats.”

  Rochelle asked, “When do we leave?”

  “Tomorrow morning at eight,” James answered.

  “Well, I need to get my mourning outfit put together. A grieving widow needs a proper outfit.”

  As they were all leaving the office, Stiles turned to Rochelle and asked, “Did you have a good visit with your friends?”

  For a moment she looked confused, then she said, “Oh, yes. Yes, it was nice to catch up. A woman in a strange city needs to be with friends.”

  Stiles motioned for Michael to walk down the sidewalk.

  “You thought it was strange, too,” Michael said as they left the others behind.

  “She’s a very peculiar woman. One we should keep our eyes on,” Stiles answered.

  Chapter Three

  Michael cherished the ache in his body this morning. There was nothing like the feeling after a night of being claimed by Stiles Long. No doubt, the man loved him. No doubt, that he loved the man. No doubt, no one could come between them. Reggie’s sarcastic smile darted across his vision. No doubt, he would never let that man come between them, and he planned on telling him so.

  “What crazy thoughts are you lost in this morning?”

  Stiles could read him like a book.

  “Just how much I love you… and how hard it is to walk this morning,” he said.

  Stiles chuckled and kept walking. They were headed to the train station to board a west bound train for Kansas City, Missouri. There were several smaller stations along the way to Dodge City Kansas. It seemed impossible that it was only a three-day trip. There were major stops in Albuquerque and Flag Staff. A train change in La Junta, Colorado, then on to Los Angeles and another change for Santa Barbara. In total, they’ll reach their final destination in seven days. Somewhere along that route their little group of four hoped to come across the killers. Not knowing who or where they were coming from would mean one of them had to be awake at all times to be sure they were safe.

  McCullough had made Stiles lead on the assignment, which gave Michael a sense of calm. He knew Stiles was a fair man and dedicated to his job. Their two other new partners worried Michael. Rochelle was a mystery to both of them. In their dealings so far with the woman, they had learned she was an uncertain joker in the hand of cards they had been dealt. Reginald McCullough was another suspicious card in that deck. The two were waiting for them at the train station.

  Rochelle wore her widows garb with a veil which hid her face from view. That made Michael uncomfortable. You could tell a lot about a person in their facial movements and quirks. A lie was easier told behind a curtain.

  “Rochelle…Reginald, good morning,” Stiles said as he tipped his hat.

  “Good morning, Stiles” Reginald said ignoring Michael. “I’ve arranged for our berths to be side by side. I think Rochelle should be between Stiles and myself. Michael has the one to Stiles right.”

  “There’s no need to treat me like I can’t take care of myself,” she said as she patted the black handbag hanging from her wrist. “I have all the protection I need.”

  “We all know you do.” Reginald said.

  “Our tickets allow us to sit anywhere in the First-class car, as well as the Lounge in both First and Second-class. There will be a selection of tables in the dining car to choose from,” Reginald said before Michael interrupted him.

  “I believe Stiles is the lead on this assignment,” Michael said. He was agitated by Reggie’s assumption to take control of their assignment.

  “I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to overstep there,” he answered.

  “No problem, Reginald. The only thing is I would feel better if Michael and I flanked each side of Rochelle. We have worked together on many assignments and are in tune with each other. You can take the berth to the right of me.”

  A smirk crossed Reginald’s lips as he said, “I’m sure you are.”

  They took their seats moments before the train pulled out of the station. Michael was relieved to see that he was in the same car as Rochelle. He sat in the second to last seat. Rochelle was closer to the front of the train on the opposite side of Michael. First-class was filled with gentlemen in fine suits and ladies dressed in their finest frocks and coats. He looked out the window he sat beside, as passengers in Second-class and Coach boarded the train. Women with small children, cowboys, poorly dressed individuals, and a hodge podge of people entered the train. He did spot several men, seemingly alone, board Second-class wearing black hats. His mind wandered to Stiles briefly then he let it go, concentrating on the people in his compartment.

  In the dining car the four met up at dinner time. They appeared to be four strangers sharing a table for their meal.

  “I saw one man in our car that caused me some worry when he moved to sit behind Stiles,” Reginald said. “But nothing came from it.”

  “I heard him snoring,” Stiles said.

  “No one in our car caused me any concern,” Michael said.

  Rochelle cut in, “You didn’t see that couple two rows behind me. They argued the entire time. Funny thing was I never could tell what they were bickering about. Seemed odd to me. Of course, maybe the sex is bad.”

  Michael choked on his coffee and stared at Stiles, whose face was lit up with a grin he tried unsuccessfully to hide.

  “Rochelle, you always think everything is related to sex,” Reginald mumbled and glared at her.

  “In my experience, it usually is,” she answered hotly.

  “It’s possible they were putting on a show, or just a very unhappy couple,” Stiles said, changing the subject. “I didn’t notice anyone in our car, but let’s all keep our eyes open. “I’ll take the first watch tonight, and I’ll wake Michael at five and we’ll meet back here for breakfast at seven thirty.”

  A man screamed and plates crashed to the floor. A waiter in the dining room ran to a table close to the front. The man appeared to be choking on his food. As Stiles, Michael, and Reginald reached the table, white foam started flowing from the man’s mouth and his eyes rolled back into his head.

  “Poison?” Reggie asked.

  Voices in the dining room were reaching a fever pitch. Wanting to know what was going on, they shouted over each other. Stiles raised his voice and quieted the crowd. Michael knelt down beside the man and felt for a pulse. Nothing on his wrist or neck. He was dead. Reginald reached inside the man’s pocket to retrieve his wallet.

  Opening it, he said, “Walter Peck. He’s from St. Louis. A salesman for the Cotton Industry.”

  Rochelle had joined them and said, “That isn’t a very good cover, if you ask me.”

  The waiter spoke up, “Mr. Peck is a regular on this route. He’s a nice man.”

  Michael stood and looked at the waiter, “He’s been poisoned. Do you know if anyone who was traveling with Mr. Peck.”

  “No sir.”

  The waiter called for the stewards. They removed Mr. Peck’s body to another train car. One of them said they would contact the authorities as soon as they arrived in Kansas City. Before he left the room with the body, he mumbled something Michael could barely make out.

  “What did he say,” Stiles asked.

  “It sounded like ‘I can’t believe this is happening again’,” Michael answered.

  Reggie said, “I’m going to go talk to that steward. He may be able to point out other riders who frequent this particular train route.”

  “What was the man eating,” Rochelle asked.

  “He had the pork and stuffing plate,” the waiter answered.

  “Did anyone at our table have the same,” Rochelle asked.

  “I did,” Michael answered.

  “He does have the same build and coloring that you have. Maybe his meal was meant for you,” Rochelle answered. She shrugged her shoulders as she turned to leave the dining car. “I’ve lost my appetite.”

  “I repeat, she is a strange bird,” Stiles said.

  Chapter Four

  If Reginald didn’t stop his wandering gaze over Michael every time, he looked at the man, Stiles was sure to black one of his eyes sooner than later. He wasn’t prone to violence, but when push came to shove, no one messed with his man.

  He had the first watch, so he decided to walk the train cars instead of just sitting and waiting for something to happen. After all, something had already happened. They couldn’t be sure, but it seemed likely that the poor man who had died received poison meant for Michael. Stiles wasn’t going to let anything happen to his lover.

  The train car closest to the dining room had a handful of people, all sleeping. One man sat in the very back of the compartment reading a newspaper. His hat pulled down low over his face kept Stiles from getting a good look at him. He was a large man with wide shoulders. Certainly, big enough to do damage to any man he faced.

  Moving on to the next car, he could see two gentlemen near the front with their heads together talking through the glass in the door. They abruptly stopped when they heard the door open, and Stiles walked through. It was three o’clock in the morning. One of the men moved across the aisle to another seat. Stiles sat down close to the car door as it opened, and another gentleman entered. He didn’t notice Stiles but moved on to sit in a vacant seat behind the man who had moved.

  Stiles tipped his hat down over his eyes and stretched out. Waiting for thirty minutes, he slowly slumped into his seat letting his head loll to one side. He could peek from under his hat and see the two men in front of him.

  The new man looked back at Stiles, and then across the aisle to where the second man sat. The second man joined the other two and they continued their conversation in whispered voices. Sadly, too low for Stiles to make anything out this far away from them and with the man three seats ahead of him snoring loudly. The first man was shaking his head vigorously, as if the other two were scolding him. He rose and left the car in a hurry. The other two men separated and stayed quiet.

  Stiles continued to watch both men but neither spoke another word to anyone in the car. He didn’t realize he’d dozed off until a woman’s scream vibrated through the train car door. It startled him awake. He looked up to find both of the men he had been watching were gone.

  It was early morning. Sunrise was just happening outside the windows of the moving train. Screaming was coming from the car Stiles had walked through first, the First-class Lounge. Inside, everyone was awake staring at a woman standing in the aisle. Moving forward he saw Rochelle standing over a body. He tapped her shoulder and she turned and slapped him.

  “Oh, Mr. Long! I’m sorry!”

  She was clearly startled but Stiles saw no tears in her eyes.

  Frantically she said, “I’m afraid he’s dead.”

  With a knife blade protruding from the middle of his back, it was pretty clear he was. Though Stiles couldn’t see why Rochelle was acting as if she had never seen a dead body before. Afterall, she was posing as a widow, and the woman herself was an agent. Surely, this wasn’t the first dead body she’d seen.

  The head steward came from the dining room car and kneeled down when Stiles did. Carefully, they turned the man on his side. It was the first man Stiles had seen in the second forward train car.

  “Do you know who he is,” Stiles asked the steward.

  “No sir.”

  “Did he have a traveling companion?”

  “Not that I know of sir.”

  The steward rose and turned to open the door for two other junior stewards to bring in a gurney. They lifted the man laying him on his stomach and carried him out of the car.

  “I don’t understand what is happening,” the steward said. “Two deaths in the last twenty-four hours. This has never happened before.”

  He offered Stiles his hand and said, “My name is Calvin. I’m the Lead Steward.”

  “It’s nice to meet you Calvin, but not under these circumstances,” Stiles said as he shook the man’s hand.

  “I’m afraid we’ll have a lot of explaining to do when we reach Kansas City. It could delay our departure time and I hate running behind.”

  Quietly, he shook his head and followed behind the two men carrying the gurney. Stiles tried to straighten the puzzle pieces forming in his mind. He had a few questions for Rochelle, as well. When he turned, he found that she was gone.

  Stiles headed for the dining car; he needed coffee. As he sat at the group’s dinner table from the previous night, a waiter brought him a note. While the man filled the coffee cup in front of Stiles. He opened the note and read.

  “I didn’t sleep well. And due to the recent occurrence, I’m going to head back to my berth to try to nap. Rochelle”

  He didn’t know what the woman was up to but his suspicions of her were growing with each passing moment. Finishing his cup of coffee, he decided to go find Michael. They could have breakfast before he headed to bed. When they stopped in Kansas City, the authorities would be notified of the two dead men on the train. Michael and Reginald could watch the new people joining the train. He especially wanted them to watch for the two other men he had seen last night. If they left the train, they could probably remove them from the suspect list.

  Just as he reached Michael’s door, Reginald was backing out. Michael was shouting from inside.

  “Get the hell out of here! Don’t you ever come in here uninvited again!”

  Reginald pushed the door shut behind him resting his back there with his eyes closed. When he opened them, he found Stiles staring at him.

  “Don’t say a word. Just get out of my way,” Stiles said.

  Stiles knocked on the door, watched as the door opened and Michael was standing there in his robe with his gun in his hand.

  “I told you…,” Michael said dropping the gun to his side. “Stiles, I’m so sorry.”

  “It’s all right. He’s gone.”

  Stiles closed the door behind him and wrapped his arms around Michael. The man was breathless with frustration. He would be sure the other man would never bother Michael again.

  “I’ll take care of it,” Stiles whispered to his lover.

  Michael pushed out of Stiles arms, and said, “No. I can handle it. There’s no need for you to do anything rash.”

  “You know me so well, don’t you,” Stiles answered.

  “I do. He’s a frustrating idiot, but we need to work together on this assignment. So…the sooner we solve this the quicker he will be out of our lives,” Michael said.

  Stiles allowed him to catch his breath, then kissed him softly.

  “Thank you for understanding,” Michael said.

  “Let’s go to breakfast, I’ve got a lot to tell you,”

  Stiles returned to the dining car to see Reginald already sitting at their table.

  He took a seat across from Reginald but didn’t speak.

  “I’m sure you have a lot to say to me,” Reginald offered.

  “I do have a report from last night, but we’ll wait for the others. I’m sure Rochelle will have some input as well,” Stiles said. He noted the surprise in Reginald’s eyes.

  He shuttered them before he spoke, “Rochelle?”

 

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