A Western Tale of Love and Fate: A Historical Western Romance Book

by Cassidy Hanton

Zoe kept people at a safe distance, yet both of the men she now thought of had penetrated her defenses unexpectedly. Victor had done it in his vulnerability and chivalry, while Quinn had done it with his compassion and determination. However, there was something else, something she had only now come to realize. How much more alike she and Victor really were, living their lives alone, because of the actions of others.

  The thought of living life as emotionally isolated as Victor was terrifying, yet it was the path she had laid for herself all this time. If Quinn never crossed the borders of their town she might not have come to understand that truth. He was the first person she allowed herself to get close to, who she wanted to be close to. She wanted Victor to go away and never return, to live his life in some far off place where no one could ever bother him, and he could perhaps find some kind of humanity. Quinn, she wanted him to come back. She wanted him to stay.

  The thoughts that were running through her mind had never been there before. Thoughts of coming home to someone. Someone who liked to play cards, who would drink cider with her, and talk about anything and everything, someone whose nobility would send them halfway across a nation to see the right thing done.

  “Quinn,” she said in a whisper, as if uttering his name would bring the man to her.

  It seemed she was in Victor’s debt yet again. In bringing Quinn to town in pursuit of him, he had brought so much more to her own life.

  More days passed and Zoe’s thought remained the same, while her disposition darkened. The longer neither of them appeared, the more the likelihood their fates had come to an unpleasant end.

  What if they were dead? What if they had killed each other? What if Quinn had fallen in some field with no one to bury him? What if Victor had put him there? Zoe was not sure she could handle that truth. It was a conflict in her mind and her heart.

  “Miss Zoe,” Wiley interrupted her bleak thoughts.

  “Hmmm?”

  “May I speak with you in private?” the barman asked, as he looked at her with concern.

  “Of course, Wiley. What’s on your mind?” she asked, as she turned her attention to him and plastered on another smile.

  “Not ‘ere, in yer office,” he suggested to Zoe’s surprise. Wiley never wanted to go into her office. There was nothing the man had to hide or anything he considered private enough that could not be discussed right where he was.

  “All right,” she answered. “We can go in my office.”

  Her mind was wandering from thought to thought as they walked to the back of the saloon and closed the door to her office.

  “Now, what’s the matter?” she asked the moment they were alone.

  “Miss Zoe, I never git in people’s business. It’s my job to serve drinks and that’s what I do. What people choose to tell me I don’t solicit. They just talk. Yer different. Yer my boss and my friend and when I sees yah lookin’ this kinda way, then I have to speak,” Wiley said in a rush.

  Surprise took her as Zoe stared at the man who had tended bar under her employ for the past four years. “How do I look?” she asked in dismay. Had she been so consumed by her own thoughts that she had allowed it to become apparent to others?

  “I know somethin’s troublin’ yah. Ever since that bounty hunter left town you’ve been actin’ different.” He looked at her hesitantly. She didn’t respond so he continued. “It’s most definitely not my business, but I worry ‘bout you. I ain’t never seen yah look so melancholy before. Yer always so happy and bright.”

  Zoe sighed and turned her back to Wiley as she walked to her desk. Her suspicions were correct. She dropped down in her seat and looked at him again. “Does everyone know?”

  The moment Wiley’s head shook negatively, a wave of relief washed over her. She didn’t need people in her business.

  “I may not know that much ‘bout yah, but I know yah well enough to tell when yer mood’s off, and it’s been off for a while now. I thought I’d say somethin’ before others notice.”

  “Thank you, Wiley, I appreciate you looking out for me,” she said genuinely as she smiled at him. “I promise I’ll figure things out. I won’t let my feelings show like this anymore. You don’t have to worry. You can get back to work.”

  “I just care, Miss Zoe,” Wiley answered, as he held her gaze for a moment and then turned and left.

  This was no good. She could not allow herself to be so transparent. Zoe had to find something to distract herself. She did what she always did when she needed to clear her mind, she cleaned her desk. She shifted papers from one location to another. Some she tore into pieces and tossed into the trash. She was about to do the same to the previous week’s periodical, when something on the front page caught her eye.

  “Anniversary of Oregon’s statehood,” she read the headline. A smile slowly spread across her face. Perfect!

  Nothing occupied her mind more than planning, and something as grand as a celebration to commemorate Oregon’s statehood would take many hours of careful strategy to achieve. She grabbed a piece of paper from her desk and a pen and began to scribble a letter. When it was finished she tucked it into an envelope, and with the newspaper still in hand she rushed out to the saloon floor.

  “Wiley!” she called excitedly.

  “Yes, Miss Zoe?” the surprised man said, as he almost dropped the glass he was holding.

  “When was the last time Mayor Tipper was in here?” she asked in a rush.

  Wiley shook his head. “Not sure. He ain’t been in ‘ere in a while.”

  “See that this gets to his house,” she instructed. Wiley looked at the plain envelope curiously.

  “Yes, Miss Zoe. What is it?”

  “It’s a proposal,” Zoe answered.

  “Yah wanna marry the Mayor?” he exclaimed.

  A laugh burst from Zoe’s lips. “Heavens, no,” she answered quickly. The mayor was forty-six and bald with a continuous rash.

  “Then what’s this?” Wiley questioned.

  “It’s a proposal to have a grand ball, the first in Shaniko history,” Zoe said enthusiastically.

  “A ball? Fer what?”

  “To celebrate our statehood. It’s about time that we gave this town something to be happy about, and what better reason than the fact that we have a state to belong to in the first place,” Zoe answered.

  “But it ain’t even the fiftieth or anything big like that,” Wiley countered. He was clearly confused.

  “Why should we wait until then to celebrate? I think this year is as good as any to make something of such an important day, and I mean to,” she said emphatically.

  “Okay, Miss Zoe, if yah want. I’ll do my part,” Wiley answered as he put the note in his pocket.

  “Now, go now,” Zoe urged, as she stepped behind the bar and proceed to untie Wiley’s apron. The man was so confused by her actions he did not have the slightest clue what to do.

  “But Miss Zoe...” he tried to protest but there was no denying her. Zoe’s mind was made up and she was going to have her way.

  “Go,” she ordered as she wrapped the apron around her own waist and tied it securely in front.

  “Oh, don’t mess up my bottles. You always mess up my bottles when you git back there,” Wiley complained. She made a face that sent him rushing to the door.

  Zoe watched Wiley’s back as it disappeared. The doors swung behind him and a sense of satisfaction filled her. There would be a ball in Shaniko soon enough. The note to the Mayor was just out of courtesy—she was having this ball whether he approved or not—and she was sure everyone would attend. However, protocols were protocols and she would do things by the book as much as she could. She doubted he would deny her in any case.

  “Now, what should the invitations look like?” she wondered as she leaned over the bar and folded her arms to support herself. “White? Maybe blue?” she wondered aloud. She could not have come up with a better plan for distraction. There were so many things to consider. What would the menu be like? What music should they ha
ve?

  It had to be a fancy, dress-up event, which meant new clothes and shoes and getting her hair done nicely. Mr. Cleaver was going to thank her for years to come when the people started turning up to prepare for the ball. He was going to have business he would hardly be able to accommodate, she bet.

  Everyone would do well with a ball. Who knew who else would come? Maybe some of the folks from the neighboring towns would come? She could let the news accidentally travel in their direction. She smiled to herself. Yes, that was exactly what she was going to do.

  “Now, who should I tell first?” She smirked.

  Chapter Seven

  Two weeks of tracking had yielded nothing, and Quinn was fuming because of it. Every lead ended in frustration. Each time, Victor remained just a little ahead of him. It was as if the man was taunting him, daring him to catch him. It made Quinn’s blood boil. It was why he had delayed in returning to Shaniko. He refused to give up until he was sure every lead was dry. It was beginning to look as if they were.

  The town seemed unusually active as he trudged on horseback into their midst. People were walking the streets with smiles on their faces, and a banner hung across the main street announcing the inaugural Shaniko Oregon State Day Ball.

  “A ball?” Quinn commented as he looked at the bold letters painted in black against a white canvas. Who on earth would throw a ball for the entire town? He shook his head and continued toward The Red Stallion.

  Quinn tied his horse near the trough outside the saloon. There were several other horses there, and he wondered what would bring so many to the establishment so early in the day. What was happening? “I sure hope Miss Zoe kept my room for me,” he commented as he stepped onto the stoop and entered the saloon.

  It was as if someone had released every person in the surrounding five counties into The Red Stallion. There were more people in there now than there was in an evening, which said a lot.

  “Wiley,” Quinn called as he spotted the man rushing across the room with a box of liquor on his shoulder.

  “Mr. Mortensen,” he exclaimed and almost dropped his cargo. “Yer back.”

  “Of course I’m back. Didn’t I tell you to let Miss Zoe know that I’d be returning?” he asked. “You did deliver my message, didn’t you?” He looked at the man sternly. Quinn was already in an unhappy mood, and if he were to find out that he had returned after such a long trip, to find his room occupied, he was going to be less than cordial about it.

  “Yes, Mr. Mortensen. I delivered yer message, and Miss Zoe has kept your room locked up tight until yah got back. She had strict orders on that,” Wiley explained as he stumbled over his words in a rush.

  “Where is Miss Zoe? What is all this?” he asked as a man with a sack of potatoes rushed past him, knocking him in the shoulder as he went.

  “Oh, this?” Wiley mused. “This is Miss Zoe’s doin’. We’re havin’ a ball to celebrate Oregon’s Statehood.”

  “She’s responsible for the sign in the middle of town?” Quinn questioned.

  “Yes, I am,” a sweet, rich voice interrupted. Quinn turned to find Zoe standing there with a radiant smile on her face. She was wearing a sky blue dress that made her hair seem more red than usual. However, it was her eyes that took him in.

  “‘Scuse me,” Wiley interjected and quickly made his exit. Quinn didn’t notice him leave. His eyes were otherwise pleasantly preoccupied.

  “Miss Zoe,” he said as he removed his hat from his head and nodded in her direction. Zoe waltzed toward him, every step like that of some dance that Quinn didn’t know, but longed to learn.

  “Welcome back, Quinn,” she said as she continued to smile at him. “I was wondering when you’d remember us,” she joked. “I was beginning to wonder if I was keeping your room for nothing. It wouldn’t be sound business if that was the case.”

  Quinn could hear the amusement in her voice as she teased him. He decided to oblige. “We both know what a wise businesswoman you are, Miss Zoe, and I doubt you’d do anything that could jeopardize The Red Stallion’s success. Especially not for someone like me.” Quinn smirked as he waited for her response.

  “Someone like you? It’s someones like you that keep my business running,” she answered. “And entertaining,” she added. She sighed. “Did you catch him?”

  His stomach clenched. He hated to have to give the answer he was about to, but he couldn’t lie. “No.”

  Zoe’s face became still at his response. She looked down for a moment, and then her eyes returned to his. “Maybe next time.”

  “Most definitely next time,” Quinn answered gravely. He was so close to ending the case, however, despite his eagerness to see the matter of Victor Norton resolved, Quinn had a reason to want it to continue. She was standing before him.

  “Well, I guess since you’ll be sticking around town, you’ll need an invitation to the ball,” she mused, quickly dismissing his unhappy news. Zoe reached into the pocket of the skirt of her dress. “Fortunate for you, I saved one,” she continued as she waved the small envelope in front of his face.

  Quinn reached for it, but Zoe quickly yanked it away with a chuckle. Quinn made another attempt, this time he was faster and caught her gently by the wrist, as she tried to draw her hand away.

  Zoe didn’t move, and neither did she protest against his action. Instead, she stood very still, her eyes lingering on the place where his hand held hers. Quinn felt his heart beat a little harder as he, too, looked at the way his large hand enveloped her small wrist. He noticed she had delicate hands, for a woman who worked as hard as she did to build her business all on her own.

  “Here,” Zoe offered, as she allowed the envelope to hang loosely from her fingers.

  Quinn plucked it from her fingers with his other hand before releasing her wrist, just in case it was another game. At least that was what he told himself. It wasn’t easy for him to admit that he rather enjoyed the act of holding her like that.

  “Would you join me for a walk?” Zoe asked unexpectedly.

  “Sure,” Quinn replied quickly. He was feeling a little uncomfortable all of a sudden and thought a change of venue might be best.

  Zoe turned to the door, without question, and Quinn followed. They strolled down Main Street in silence. Quinn could feel the tension, and he didn’t know what to make of it.

  “I’m very glad you’re back. I was a little worried,” Zoe admitted.

  Quinn looked at her. “I’ll always come back,” he asserted.

  “How can you be so sure?” she questioned, concerned. “The man you’re chasing, Victor Norton, is a killer. He could easily kill you.”

  “And I could just as easily kill him,” Quinn countered. “I’d say that was the most likely outcome.”

  “Couldn’t there be another?” she asked. “Must death be the only answer?”

  “Unfortunately, yes,” Quinn admitted. “Victor’s life is only ending one way. Death. Either he’ll force me to kill him in an attempt to take him in. Or, he’ll let me take him in, and then he’ll face the hangman. Either way, he’s going to die for his crimes. There’s no question about that.”

  Zoe looked up as if she wanted to say something, then Quinn saw something flash across her expression. It was only a second, but it was enough to make Quinn turn around to see what was behind him. There was nothing, just a busy street of Shaniko residents.

  “What is it?” he asked as he turned back to her. “What did you see?”

  “Nothing,” Zoe answered with a small laugh. “I just thought I saw Timothy running around in his wolf costume,” she answered with a laugh. “That child has a way of getting away from his mother. Shall we continue? I want to show you where we’ll be having the ball.” She continued. “I remember the things I most had to get used to when I moved to Shaniko were the wolves who lingered just outside of town. The howling at night,” she reminisced. “They kept me up. I probably only slept thirty hours that first week in town.”

  Quinn smiled. “Where was
home again? I don’t think I asked.”

  “Boston,” Zoe replied immediately.

  “Are you serious?” he asked in surprise. “What part?”

  “Just off Charles Street, near the prison,” Zoe admitted. She stopped to look at him curiously. “Why?”

  “I was raised on Beacon Hill,” Quinn replied as he chuckled.

  “That’s right, Wiley did mention you were from there. I just forgot,” Zoe replied with a laugh. “It must be all this work on the ball that has me preoccupied.”

  Quinn watched her carefully. “What made you decide to have a ball? I left town for a few days, and you suddenly decided that you wanted to have a party?” he mused.

  “Something like that,” she answered. “I figured with you gone there was a reason to worry about men coming to kill us in our beds, we might as well make the most of it,” she continued as she amused herself at his expense.