Only I could be inspired to write a fanfic while reading a history book. Enjoy. As always, see the historical notes at the bottom.

Category: Gen
Setting: pre-1x22
Characters/Pairings: Kate Warne, Will Pinkerton
Rating/Warnings: K+
Summary: "What do you say, pretty lady? Wanna take this upstairs?" Sometimes Kate questioned why she even came to the Dubois at night. But she had carved a place for herself in this man's world, and tonight would be no different.

Disclaimer: If you recognize it, I don't own it.

A Respectable Woman

"What do you say, pretty lady? Wanna take this upstairs?"

Kate sighed and questioned why she even tried to spend time in the Dubois alone after dark. Plastering on the fakest cheerful smile she could, she turned to face the man vying for her attention this time. Clark, the portion of her mind that was always listening supplied. The man had introduced himself as Clark.

"I'm sorry, are you speaking to me?"

The man just blinked at her, the toothy smile falling into a confused frown. Clearly he had not been expecting her question. While his whiskey clouded mind attempted to come up with a response, Kate took the time to study him. Perhaps a year or two older then her, Clark was clean shaven with short dirty blonde hair and hazel eyes. Not a bad looking man, but Kate had seen his type before.

"Of course I'm talkin' to you, pretty lady." He smiled again and Kate grudgingly had to admit that he did have a nice smile. "So what do you say?"

"I am afraid I'll have to pass." Kate said carefully, never letting her smile fade. "I am quite tired and was getting ready to head home."

The man's smile faded ever so slightly.

"Ah, don't be that way, pretty lady." Clark slurred. Kate jumped as he laid his hand over top of hers. "We've got all the time in the world."

Kate gently pulled her hand away and took a step back.

"I must insist, sir," her smile was completely gone as she pulled her shawl tighter around her shoulders. "My brother is expecting me and I am already late."

"You ain't got no brother." The man followed, closing the few steps she had made. "Least not in Kansas City. Now come on, missy, I've got a room all ready."

He reached out to take her arm, but Kate jerked away and took two steps away.

"Touch me again and you will regret it."

Clark's smile disappeared and he took a step toward her, drawing himself up to his full height. Kate took a quick glance around, carefully noting the empty beer mug on the bar to her right. Pulling her shoulders back and raising her chin, Kate met the drunk man's eyes and refused to take another step back.

"I am a respectable woman, sir," she said coolly, "and a detective with the Pinkertons. If you do not back away and leave me alone, I will have you arrested for harassment."

Clark paused, the last of the smile completely disappearing. She saw anger flash across his features and she moved her hand toward the abandoned beer mug. She held her breath, waiting as the seconds ticked by. When the man finally spoke, his voice was a snarl.

"That's where you're wrong, missy. You might not take men upstairs, but you are far from respectable." Stepping back, he looked her up and down once more before spitting on her shoe. "Stupid Pink."

"Hey!" The familiar voice saved Kate from doing something she knew she would regret. "That is no way to treat a lady."

"This ain't none of your business, Pinkerton." Clark kept his focus on Kate, eying her like he a horse.

"You messing with my partner?" Will scoffed and moved to stand a step in front of Kate. "I think that makes it my business."

"Will." The room was steadily falling silent and Kate was growing uncomfortable under all the eyes. "I can handle this."

Will glanced over his shoulder at her and for a moment she thought he wasn't going to listen. Then he nodded and she breathed a sigh of relief as he started to back away. That relief was cut short at Clark's next words.

"That's right, boy. Run and hide behind your whore's skirts."

The words were barely out of the drunk's mouth when Will's fist connected with Clark's jaw. The man collapsed to the floor, unconscious before he even knew what had happened. Rolling his shoulders, Will stepped back to stand beside Kate.

"You all right?" he asked.

"I'm fine, thank you." Kate replied. Ignoring the unconscious man at her feet, she turned to Will. "I could have handled him, you know."

"I know." Will said with no hesitation. "Whiskey?"

"No, thanks, I think I'm going to go back home." She gave a quick smile. "See you tomorrow, Will."

She turned to leave, but was surprised when Will stayed at her side and followed her out. Neither of them said anything as they left the Dubois and toward the livery where their horses were stabled. It was only when they were riding out of town that she said anything.

"I can take care of myself, you know. You don't have to take me home."

"I know."

The simple reply hit a chord and sudden anger that she didn't know she had bubbled to the surface.

"If you know, then why aren't you back at the Dubois flirting with Annalee?"

"Just because you can take care of yourself," Will replied slowly, his eyes focused on the dark path in front of them. "doesn't mean you should have to. No man should disrespect a woman like he was doing."

Kate felt the anger disappear as suddenly as it had appeared.

"And your reason for escorting me home?"

"It's a good night for a ride." He shrugged. "And my mother keeps chiding me about drinking so much. This way you can attest that I am not drinking every night at least."

Kate laughed and shook her head. Will looked over at her and smirked. The two rode in companionable silence for a few minutes. The night air was chilly, the weather threatening to turn cold, but the perfect night for an easy ride. It wasn't until the farmhouse was in sight that Kate broke the silence.

"He wasn't wrong."

"About what?" Will asked, surprised.

"Me." Kate cleared her throat, hoping that Will hadn't heard the crack in her voice. She wasn't quite sure why she was talking about this, but once she started she couldn't stop. "I'm not a respectable woman. Not anymore at least."

"And why is that?"

"I'm a woman in a man's world." Kate gave a short sardonic laugh, shaking her head at herself. "It's not my place."

"You're right, it's not." Her head snapped to look at him. He just shrugged. "But maybe one day it will be."

Now it was Kate's turn to be surprised.

"What do you mean?"

Will repositioned himself in the saddle. To most it would seem natural, but Kate knew her partner. He was uncomfortable with the conversation, but before she could change the subject he started talking.

"I mean things are changing. Before the war I don't recall seeing a single woman working as anything other than a schoolteacher. But the war changed that. Now women are railroad surveyors and business owners," he looked over at her and smiled. "And Pinkerton agents."

Kate smiled, but it faded as quick as it had come.

"Not for much longer if people like your brother have their say."

"Who says they'll have their say?"

"You did, when we first met."

Will laughed and rubbed his neck slowly.

"Yeah, well, that was then. Things change."

He took a breath and continued before Kate could interrupt.

"Just because you're not a wife at home caring for a couple of kids doesn't mean you're not a respectable woman, Kate. It means you're a person, living your life same as me and that drunk back there. It's not a person's job that makes them respectable, it's how they live their lives."

"Why, Mr. Pinkerton," Kate teased, "that almost sounded wise."

Will grinned over at her. "I have my moments."

Kate smiled back, and this time the smile didn't fade.

Historical Notes

The idea of what was and was not respectable of a woman during the Civil War era was very close to the parameters I set up in this story. The majority of women during this era were typically confined to the home or to the schoolroom. Slightly before and into the Civil War, women began to work in factories, though that was still looked at it in negative light from many. The American Civil War did bring about a change, though perhaps more by necessity then by desire. In the South where one out of every four white men were killed, women had to step up and do things that in previous years would have been considered shocking. In the North, more women were allowed into factories and, though the death toll was not quite one of every four, the sudden loss of men to the war effort opened up possibilities that were not even considered in the years prior.

A paragraph from They Fought Like Demons: Women Soldiers in the Civil War puts the idea of what was and was not respectable for women during this period in simple terms:

"The rise of Victorian social and cultural ideals in antebellum America reinforced the existence of separate spheres for men and women. Men's sphere was in worldly pursuits and providing for home and family, while women were confined to bearing and raising children and overseeing the private world of the home. The cult of true womanhood dictated that women always appear as demure, submissive, pious, and concerned only with home and family. Women who gave any appearance of stepping outside of highly restrictive female roles risked being labeled "not respectable." Although Victorian ideals of womanhood were not as important in the lives of the working and lower classes, yeoman farmers, newly arrived immigrants, or pioneering families, they nevertheless informed cultural norms for American society in general. (3)"

This society would have been the norm for the historical Kate Warne. Yet that did not stop the twenty-three-year-old widow from walking into Allan Pinkerton's office in Chicago and applying for a job as a detective rather than the secretary position most women would have applied for. "Self-possessed in her manner" and with eyes "filled with fire," Allan Pinkerton hired her as the first female detective in the United States of America. Pinkerton would describe Warne in one of his books as being "rather a commanding person, with clear-cut expressive features, and with an ease of manner that was quite captivating at times." Upon her death in 1868, Pinkerton would write that "her whole life had been devoted to the service in which she had entered in her younger years. She was undoubtedly the best female detective in America, if not the world."

Sources:

Deanne Blanton and Lauren M. Cook, They Fought Like Demons: Women Soldiers in the Civil War. (book)

Sara M. Evans, Born for Liberty: A History of Women in America. (book)

Barbra Welter, "The Cult of True Womanhood: 1820-1860." American Quarterly 18, no. 2 (1966): 153-57.

Erin Allen, "Celebrating Women's History: America's First Female P.I." Library of Congress Blog. (March 31, 2015). (online)

Find a Grave, Kate Warne entry. (online)