PART 1: THE MOST CONFUSED SPY IN TEXAS

The first rule of being a secret spy is simple: Never let anyone know you’re spying.

Unfortunately, twenty-four-year-old Billy Jenkins broke that rule before breakfast.

It all began when wealthy Texas rancher Walter McAllister summoned Billy into his office one Tuesday morning.

Walter was fifty-two, stubborn as a mule, and convinced that nobody in Texas could fool him.

Especially his wife.

“Billy,” Walter whispered, locking the office door, “I need you to watch Margaret.”

Billy blinked.

“Watch her do what, sir?”

“Everything.”

“Even when she’s cooking?”

“Especially when she’s cooking!”

Billy scratched his head. “Sir, I don’t believe Mrs. McAllister is planning to poison you.”

“Who said anything about poison?” Walter snapped. “I think she’s hiding money!”

For thirty years, Margaret McAllister had managed the household accounts. She was clever, independent, and possessed a frightening ability to discover exactly where Walter had hidden his whiskey.

Recently, Walter had noticed something suspicious.

Margaret had visited the bank three times in one week.

She had received two mysterious packages.

And yesterday, Walter had caught her hiding a folded piece of paper inside her sewing basket.

When he asked about it, she smiled.

That smile frightened him more than a rattlesnake.

“I’ll pay you five dollars a day,” Walter said. “Follow her discreetly. Write down everything she does. And whatever happens, don’t let her know.”

Billy considered the offer.

Five dollars a day was more than he earned repairing fences.

“You got yourself a spy, Mr. McAllister.”

Walter shook his hand.

“Remember, Billy. Absolute secrecy.”

Ten minutes later, Billy was hiding behind a chicken coop, holding a notebook upside down.

Margaret noticed him immediately.

She was standing on the porch, drinking coffee, when she spotted a familiar pair of cowboy boots sticking out from behind the coop.

“Billy Jenkins!” she called.

The boots disappeared.

“Yes, ma’am?” came a nervous voice.

“Why are you hiding behind my chickens?”

“I’m not hiding, ma’am.”

“Then what are you doing?”

“Counting eggs.”

Margaret looked toward the coop.

“Billy, those chickens haven’t laid eggs in three days.”

A long silence followed.

“Well,” Billy answered, “that explains why my counting ain’t going very well.”

Margaret nearly spilled her coffee laughing.

But then she noticed the notebook sticking out of his pocket.

And suddenly, everything made sense.

Her husband had been asking strange questions about her shopping trips all week.

Now he had apparently hired the least discreet cowboy in Texas to investigate her.

Margaret smiled.

Not her ordinary smile.

The dangerous one.

“Billy, come inside. I have a little proposition for you.”

Five minutes later, Billy sat at the kitchen table with a slice of apple pie in front of him.

Margaret folded her hands.

“My husband hired you to watch me, didn’t he?”

Billy nearly choked.

“No, ma’am!”

“Billy.”

“Yes, ma’am?”

“You’re a terrible liar.”

He sighed.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“How much is he paying you?”

Billy hesitated.

“Five dollars a day.”

Margaret reached into her purse.

“I’ll pay you seven.”

Billy stared at the money.

“Seven dollars to do what?”

“Watch my husband.”

Billy’s mouth dropped open.

“But I’m already watching you!”

“Then you’ll have plenty of practice.”

“Mrs. McAllister, I don’t think a man can spy on two people who live in the same house.”

Margaret pushed the money closer.

“Billy, for twelve dollars a day, I believe you can figure something out.”

Billy looked at the money.

Then at the pie.

Then at Margaret.

“Does this job include lunch?”

“Every day.”

“Well, ma’am, I reckon I’m the most professional spy in the county.”

And just like that, Billy Jenkins became the first cowboy in Texas history to be secretly employed by both sides of the same marriage.

By Wednesday, things had become complicated.

Walter demanded a written report every evening.

Margaret demanded one every morning.

Billy had to invent an elaborate system involving two notebooks, three hiding places, and a very confused horse named Biscuit.

His first report to Walter read:

“Mrs. McAllister visited the general store at 10:15 a.m. Purchased blue ribbon, two yards of cloth, and a mysterious wooden box. Appeared unusually cheerful.”

Walter frowned.

“Blue ribbon? Wooden box? What kind of financial scheme requires ribbon?”

“A complicated one, sir,” Billy answered solemnly.

His report to Margaret read:

“Mr. McAllister visited the blacksmith at 11:30 a.m. Spoke privately with Mr. Thompson. Purchased something wrapped in brown paper. Refused to explain what it was.”

Margaret narrowed her eyes.

“Brown paper? That man hasn’t bought me a decent present in years.”

“Maybe he bought himself something, ma’am.”

“That’s exactly what worries me.”

By Thursday, both Walter and Margaret were convinced they had uncovered an enormous secret.

Walter believed Margaret was preparing to withdraw their savings and disappear.

Margaret believed Walter was planning some foolish business investment without consulting her.

And Billy?

Billy was making twelve dollars a day, eating three enormous meals, and developing a nervous twitch whenever someone said the word “secret.”

Then Friday morning arrived.

Walter called Billy into the barn.

“I need you to follow Margaret into town today. She’s meeting someone at the hotel.”

Billy nodded nervously.

“Yes, sir.”

“Find out who it is.”

Ten minutes later, Margaret cornered Billy beside the water trough.

“Billy, Walter is going into town this afternoon. He’s meeting someone at the hotel.”

Billy swallowed.

“The hotel, ma’am?”

“Yes. I want to know everything.”

Billy’s stomach dropped.

Because he had already learned something neither of them knew.

Walter had reserved the hotel’s private dining room for Saturday evening.

Margaret had secretly ordered flowers delivered to that exact same room.

And Saturday was their thirtieth wedding anniversary.

Billy began to suspect that his employers weren’t hiding money or planning bad investments.

They might actually be planning surprises for each other.

For the first time all week, he felt relieved.

Until he arrived at the hotel that afternoon.

The manager pulled him aside.

“Billy, I’m glad you’re here. We’ve got a problem.”

“What problem?”

The manager opened his reservation book.

“Mr. McAllister booked the private dining room under a false name.”

“All right…”

“Mrs. McAllister booked the same room under a different false name.”

Billy closed his eyes.

“Please tell me you didn’t confirm both reservations.”

The manager looked embarrassed.

“I confirmed both.”

“Well, that ain’t so terrible. They’re married.”

“Billy, there’s something else.”

The manager turned the book around.

“Both of them hired me to arrange a surprise dinner. Both insisted their spouse must never find out.”

Billy stared at the page.

“So what’s the problem?”

The manager pointed to two handwritten instructions.

Walter had requested that his wife be brought to the hotel blindfolded.

Margaret had requested exactly the same thing for her husband.

And both had named Billy Jenkins as the man responsible for bringing their unsuspecting spouse.

Billy slowly removed his hat.

“Lord have mercy.”

Then the manager handed him one final note.

It was from Margaret.

“Billy, there’s one more thing you should know. I’ve known Walter hired you since Tuesday. And tonight, I intend to find out exactly what you’ve been telling him.”

Billy read it twice.

Then a familiar voice sounded behind him.

“That’s funny,” Walter said quietly. “Because I came here to ask you exactly the same question.”

Billy turned around.

Walter stood in the doorway.

Margaret stood right beside him.

Both were smiling.

Neither smile looked friendly.

And for the first time in his young life, Billy Jenkins realized that earning twelve dollars a day might cost him his entire future.