Saturday, September 9, 1893
On the second Saturday in September I stood in the train station in Lockport, saying good-bye to my father once again. He was allowing me to return to Chicago with his blessing, as he’d promised. Maude and her imps were at the station too. Her wedding to my father had been simple and brief, and she had moved into our house on the same day. I no longer resented her for coming between my father and me now that I had my own life to look forward to.
I settled comfortably in the seat as the train began to move, excited to be on my way back to the city. I would have two more months to revisit the World’s Fair before it closed, to see all of the sights I had missed. I was especially eager to attend the festivities on Chicago Day, October 9—the anniversary of the Great Fire. It still amazed me to realize how quickly the city had risen from the ashes after that tragedy twenty-two years ago. It was a good lesson for my own life. Tragedies can mean a new beginning as well as an ending.
Within minutes the train was moving fast, chugging past the boring Illinois terrain. Some of the leaves had begun to change colors, but not enough of them to make the view a scenic one. I had a book to read in my satchel, but my thoughts were racing much too quickly to be able to concentrate as I anticipated all of the new discoveries that lay ahead for me. I would visit my mother again—of that much I was certain. And I would try to discover what God wanted me to do with my life.
Some time later, I felt the locomotive slowing down as it prepared to stop at the station in Lemont. Silas had boarded the train here the last time I had traveled to Chicago, wearing his garish plaid suit and hauling his satchel full of elixir. I closed my eyes to erase that image of him, preferring to remember Silas the way I last had seen him, wearing a tuxedo and bow tie and white satin vest.
“Is this seat taken, Miss Hayes?”
I opened my eyes, and there he was! Silas McClure! I blinked, wondering if I was dreaming.
His grin was as brilliant as the electric lights at the White City. My heart began thumping. I stared up at Silas in surprise, then quickly looked away, remembering the kisses we had shared. He was a rogue, stalking me, hoping to seduce me into kissing him again. I never would have asked him to kiss me in the first place if I had known we would meet this way. I had been certain that our paths would never cross again.
He stood beside my seat, waiting for me to answer his question. But first I had one of my own.
“What are you doing here?”
“I’m going to accompany you to Chicago.”
“I’m sorry, Mr. McClure, but my father would never allow you to do that.”
His brow furrowed in confusion. “Violet, your father is the one who hired me.”
“Hired you… ?”
“Yes, just like he hired me the first time. Well, not me specifically—either time—but since I ended up with the assignment last June, I was able to arrange things so I could accompany you again.”
“What are you talking about?” The train lurched as it pulled out of the station. Silas gripped the back of the seat to keep from losing his balance.
“May I sit down?” he asked again, gesturing to the seat beside mine. I nodded. My heart raced much faster than the train. “Violet, you said you knew the truth about me.”
“Yes, that you’re a thief.”
“A what?”
“You know … the robbery at the fair, your trial at the courthouse, all your underworld connections to find my mother—I know that you’re a thief.”
“Violet, I work for Pinkerton’s.”
His words seemed to hang suspended in the air between us. I couldn’t comprehend them.
“The … the detective agency?”
“Yeah. You said that you knew.”
“You mean … you don’t commit crimes? You … you solve them?”
“Well, we do a lot more than solve crimes. And some of our work is pretty routine. A law firm might hire us to conduct an investigation or serve a subpoena. And I’ve also been hired to guard payrolls or to travel by train undercover to watch for thieves. That’s what my salesman garb was for. It was pure chance that I got picked to accompany you that first day… . And I have to say that I never expected you to be so beautiful. I figured I’d be accompanying an ugly old spinster— not you. That’s why I couldn’t stop staring at you that day. And why I was horrified to be seen wearing that corny getup and—”
“Wait a minute. Back up… .My father hired you to spy on me?”
“Well, I wouldn’t want to call it that. Our company has done security work for your father in the past and—”
“That’s outrageous!”
“Hey, don’t get mad at me,” he said after I punched his arm. “He cares about you. He wanted to make certain you arrived safely. He was afraid you’d meet up with someone unsavory or unscrupulous.”
“Like a sleazy elixir salesman?”
“Exactly.”
“And now my father hired you to keep track of me again?”
“If not me, then it would have been someone else,” Silas said with a shrug.
“Were you being paid to follow me all around Chicago too? Is that why I kept running into you and—?”
“Hey, no! Not at all! Just to the train station. After that, it was my own idea to keep track of you.”
“Then the robbery at the fair … Your two friends must have been the guards, not the thieves!”
“Right. Joe decided to pose as a woman to try to catch the thieves who were snatching purses at the Woman’s Pavilion. Robert caught one of them and had to testify in court the day I met you downtown.”
“So that’s how you were able to find my mother. You’re a detective!”
“A pretty good one, eh?” He couldn’t help grinning.
“What about the night at the casino, with Nelson? Were you working then?”
“The fair administrators knew about the gambling and suspected a scam, but the room was rented privately. Admission was by invitation only, so they couldn’t gather any proof. Thanks to your friend, we were able to get inside and check it out for them.”
“I understand the dealers were all arrested. I read about it in the paper.” When I saw his look of surprise, I added, “I read the newspaper every day now. My aunt Matt is right. You can learn a lot about the world that way.”
“Well, thanks to you and your gambling friend, I got a nice bonus from the fair’s administrators for my night’s work.”
“Does that mean you won’t have to sell Dr. Dean’s Blood Builder anymore?”
“That’s right—and it’s a shame too, because our specially patented formula is made from the highest quality beef extract, fortified with iron and celery root. If you’re suffering from extreme exhaustion, brain fatigue, debility of any kind, blood disorders, or anemia, our blood builder will enrich your blood and help your body throw off accumulated humors of all kinds. You should try it, Miss Hayes. It’s guaranteed to stimulate digestion and improve your blood flow or we’ll give you your money back.”
I laughed and laughed—so hard that I could no longer sit up straight. Silas laughed with me. It was a wonderful sound.
“May I ask you a question?” I said when we finally paused for breath. “When you comforted my Aunt Birdie and you talked about heaven and Jesus … do you … are you… ?”
“I’m a believer, Violet. My saintly mother made sure of that.”
“I see.” I couldn’t stop smiling. “Me too. And one more question? What does the A on your monogrammed handkerchief stand for?”
“It’s an A for agent. It’s so we can recognize each other when we’re working undercover. It’s less obvious than P for Pinkerton’s.”
“But suppose there’s an innocent bystander whose name just happens to begin with an A and he—?”
“You’ve asked enough questions,” he said, putting his fingers over my lips. “Now it’s my turn. Tell me, if you loved someone, and you had never fallen in love before, and you couldn’t stop thinking about her day and night, would you let her walk out of your life or would you follow her to the ends of the earth and fight to win her hand?”
I didn’t think my heart could pound any harder or faster but it did. “I-I’d fight to win her hand.”
“I was hoping you would say that.” He grinned and took my hand in his, twining our fingers together. “Okay, now it’s your turn to ask me one. I love your questions, you know.”
I was so rattled I couldn’t think. I asked the first one that came to mind. “If you could choose, would you rather be a butterfly or a firefly?”
“I’d rather be a moth.”
“Ugh!” I shuddered. “I hate moths.”
He leaned his head back and smiled. “Now that’s a mystery I’ll never understand. A moth is just a butterfly without the fancy clothes, isn’t it? But if a moth flutters around your head, you women scream and shoo it away like it was some kind of monster. If a butterfly does the same thing, you’re entranced. You say, ‘Oh, how lovely!’ and you stick out your finger and try to get it to land there. It’s the same insect, isn’t it? Except for the color?”
“Yes, I suppose it is,” I said with a smile. “So why would you choose to be a moth?”
“Because I’d like to make my way in life without all the fancy colors and be judged by who I am, not by what I look like from the outside.”
“You’re right,” I said, grinning as broadly as he did. “One should never judge someone by outward appearances. I’ll remember that the next time an elixir salesman in a baggy plaid suit boards my train.”
And that, dear reader, was how I solved my first True Crime and found True Romance in …
The End
