Sam Kline
Sam escorted the woman across the boarding house common room toward the stairs. He had secured a room for her not far from his, on the second floor.
The night clerk at the front desk called to him as they passed, “Marshal Kline? You received a telegram earlier. A runner for Western Union brought it by.” The clerk held out a brown envelope.
Sam detoured to the desk to pick it up. “Thank you.” He returned to the woman who waited by the foot of the stairs and gestured toward their rooms, envelope in hand. “Shall we go up?”
“Sam, I don't know why you asked me to come with you tonight.” She turned and mounted the stairs. “Watching you gamble is the most tedious thing I can imagine.”
“I couldn't leave you locked in your room, now, could I? I thought you'd enjoy the riverboat. There is more to do than just gamble.” He opened the door to her room and then shrugged. “Although, I didn't expect to run into Hunter tonight.”
“Is he the friend from the boat?” She tossed down her small handbag and rounded on Sam. “You didn't introduce me.
“Cat, you’re my sister. I am not going to introduce you to a man like Hunter.”
“That's ridiculous. You're a man like Hunter.” Cat stomped her foot. “You keep me cloistered like a nun.”
“I am not like Hunter.” Sam tapped the unopened envelope against his hand as he watched her cross the room to the pitcher and glasses. “Hunter claims bounties. The Marshal’s office has hired him, on occasion, because of his impressive tracking skills. That’s how I met him.”
Cat poured a glass of water. “How is hunting men different from what you do?”
Sam chuckled. “I'm a U.S. Marshal. I perform investigations for the government.”
She handed Sam the water glass. “Which sometimes includes bringing in fugitives.”
“True.” He slipped the envelope into his inside pocket and took the glass from his younger sister. He took a sip and decided to change the subject. “A finishing school would be perfect for you.” He unbuttoned his jacket and sat at the small table.
Cat sank into the other chair and regarded him over the rim of her glass. “Boarding school was bad enough.” She took a sip and set the glass on the table. “I'm not a child anymore, Sam, and I have no interest in finishing school.”
“But you've missed so much, Cat. Without a debut, you never had the chance to meet any nice young men your age—from good families.” Guilt weighed heavy on Sam's conscience. After the yellow fever outbreak took their parents in '67, he had been little more than an occasional visitor in his sister's life.
She waved it off. “I never wanted a debut and a nice young man my age. I want to be with you, to get to know you again.”
Sam searched her beautiful blue eyes and saw his mother's eyes. He shook his head, “I'm sorry Cat. I can't take you everywhere I need to go.”
“Maybe not all the time, but sometimes you can. I won't stay in a finishing school. Besides, I have skills you could put to good use.” Her mouth twisted in a suppressed smile.
“Skills?” He looked at her in confusion.
From beneath the fold of her skirt, she withdrew the brown envelope Sam had just put in his coat pocket.
His hand flew to his vest, then his gaze shot to hers in annoyance. “You learned this in boarding school?” He put his hand out for the envelope.
She lowered it into his palm. “Is this an assignment?”
Sam took the envelope and held it in his hand as he considered his sister. A lovely young woman of twenty, almost too old for a coming-out. She also held peculiar notions about what she wanted to do with her life. Perhaps it would be best to keep her under his watchful eye for a time.
Sam tapped the envelope against his palm and tore off the end. A puff of breath opened the pocket, and the telegram slid into his hand. He unfolded it and scanned the type. “This doesn’t seem too bad. I think you'll be able to come with me—this time.”
“What does it say?” Cat bounced forward trying to see the letter.
Sam folded the missive and put it back in the envelope. He began to return it to his pocket, but eyed his sister and changed his mind. Instead, he kept the envelope in his hand. “I have been asked to speak to a gentleman near Denver about some investments he made through a particular brokerage firm the Marshal's office intends to investigate.”
“Denver?” Cat breathed. “I've never been out of New Orleans.”
“I know.” Sam stood to take his leave. “You'll get to see quite a bit of the country. I'll make our travel arrangements in the morning. Get some rest.” He backed out of the room, envelope still in his hand, and closed the door.
“Lock the door, Cat.” Sam called from the hallway. He waited until he heard the bolt slide home before he turned toward his room.
Cat's laughing voice sounded through the door. “I'm going to Denver.”