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

by Cassidy Hanton

  There was something about the way she laughed that made him want to listen to it, over and over again. She was the worst thing for him, and Quinn knew it. Zoe was a distraction, and he never allowed himself to have distractions, but with her, he couldn’t help it. She got under his skin, and he liked it.

  “Have things been good here?” Quinn asked. A lot could happen in the time he was gone, as the plans for the ball was evidence of, still, there was a lot more to the town than just its entertainment.

  “Everything’s been good, peaceful,” Zoe answered. “Some of the girls at the boarding house found themselves husbands. Noelle, one of the girls who worked mornings, got married. She moved to a small farm out near the border of the town. We haven’t seen her since.”

  “She was the blonde,” Quinn stated for clarification. “The lighter of the two?”

  Zoe nodded. “We were all happy to see her go.”

  The comment struck Quinn as odd. “You were happy to see her go?”

  “Of course. Noelle wanted to be married since she was a girl. She finally found a man who was her match. How could we be upset about that?” she asked casually. “Sure we miss her, but we would never be so selfish as to want her with us more than with the man she loves.”

  “You believe in that?”

  “In what?” Zoe asked.

  “In love,” Quinn elaborated. In all the time they’d spent together, it wasn’t a topic that came up. Quinn found he was interested in her views on the subject. Not that it meant anything. It was just bounty hunter curiosity, so he told himself, again.

  She looked at him confused. “Of course. Why would I not?”

  “I don’t know. I never heard you talk about it,” Quinn admitted. “I thought perhaps it wasn’t something that interested you.”

  “I think love interests everyone. Doesn’t it interest you? Or are you too busy catching wanted men to have time for something so simple?”

  Quinn scoffed. “You think love is simple?”

  “In a sense,” she explained. “You’re either in it or not. Everything else is in-between.”

  “And you? Are you in love with someone?”

  Zoe’s eyes widened and Quinn began to wish he could retract his words, but they were already out, and there was no reeling them in again.

  “Why?” Zoe asked with a mischievous grin. “Is my love life interesting to you?”

  “Your love life is your business, Miss Zoe. I was just wondering if there was somebody. Call it an occupational hazard. I tend to ask a lot of questions.”

  “I thought you were worried if my beau was going to come over and knock you out for walking with me,” she answered with a smile.

  “Why, should I be concerned about such an event?” he countered. He grinned back at her, and for several seconds it felt as if there was no one else on the street but them.

  “No,” she answered when she finally pulled her eyes away from him.

  Something inside wanted to say something to draw the beautiful hazel orbs back to him, but it was probably for the best the way things were. The strange uncomfortable feeling was returning.

  “Was there ever someone?” Zoe asked. The question took Quinn by surprise, and he had to think about the answer. It was so long since he last considered anything but his job. However, even before he became a bounty hunter, his job was his entire world. Once upon a time, there was someone, her name was Elizabeth, and she was a school teacher. It didn’t end well. She wanted marriage. Quinn wanted to become a sergeant. Quinn stayed a corporal, while she married a doctor and moved to a more affluent part of town. They never spoke again.

  He shook his head. “Not in a long time. You?”

  She laughed as if his question were a joke. “You would think so, wouldn’t you?” she mused. “Sadly, I’ve probably been proposed to more times than all the women in this town put together, but there’s never been anyone I’ve fancied like that.”

  “Not even in Boston?” Quinn continued to question.

  Again, she shook her head. “No. Like you, I was always working. It was just me and my parents, and I wanted to help, so I worked. I did sewing for a few of the ladies on the nicer side of town,” Zoe admitted. “It wasn’t fancy, but it paid well, and helped us to buy a better house, and help those who were worse off than we were.”

  “Have you ever thought about getting married?” Quinn asked. The question surprised even him as he uttered it, but he found he wanted to know the answer.

  Zoe’s hazel eyes met his and remained there for a long time before she answered. “If the right man found me,” she said. “Someone who saw me for who I am and didn’t think of me as just a cook and a washerwoman. Definitely not someone who would want me to give up my business, and stay home to have babies all the time,” she added. “Maybe then I’d consider it. Would you?”

  “As you said,” Quinn began. “If the right person came along, someone who understood that I wasn’t a man to sit idly by and watch wrong going unpunished. Someone who would make me want to stay in one place and not rush off behind a fugitive, maybe take a job in the sheriff’s office or something like that. If I found such a woman, I’d marry her.”

  Zoe smiled. “I hope you find her someday.”

  “I was just about to say the same thing to you,” Quinn answered, as their eyes lingered on one another before they continued their stroll. Quinn didn’t need a reason to speak after that. He enjoyed the comfortable silence between them, and Zoe seemed to be enjoying it, too. He wasn’t sure what had just happened between them, but he was sure something had. Had they crossed the line into a real connection with each other? Did anything they asked have real meaning, or was it all conjecture? Quinn wasn’t sure. Then the hair on the back of his neck stood on end. Someone was watching him.

  Chapter Eight

  Why was she so nervous? Zoe was just about going out of her mind with anxiety over the ball. She wanted everything to be perfect. People from all around were coming to join them for the event. It was turning out to be much larger, and grander than she had ever expected it to be.

  The Mayor was beside himself with joy. In the past few days, he had placed three orders for new suits imported from Richmond. He wasn’t the only one who wanted to look their best. The haberdashery had new stock and women and men alike could be found searching for the perfect accessories for their new outfit. The town was benefitting, as predicted, so why did Zoe feel so uneasy? Victor.

  Quinn returned, a little disappointed and angry, but no worse for wear. However, it seemed he wasn’t alone in coming back to Shaniko. The day Quinn arrived in town, she saw Victor watching them on the street. It was just a glance, a momentary meeting of their eyes across the busy intersection, but it was him, she was sure of it. She didn’t want to think what his return meant for Quinn, her, and the entire town.

  Since that day, she had expected Victor to reach out to her, but he never did. Zoe wasn’t sure if that made her more uneasy or relieved. She didn’t want to be in his mess. However, as long as he was in Shaniko, she was sure that it would find her in one way or another.

  Maybe he was gone? Perhaps it was a good lead Quinn was following. Maybe Victor really was headed for Nevada? If so, she could breathe easier, but Zoe doubted that. She wasn’t going to feel better about this situation until Quinn came back and told her he was giving up his pursuit of Victor; that his journey was at an end. Who knew what could happen between them if he did?

  “Take those new wicks over there,” Zoe commanded, as she looked at the team of workers the Mayor had given her. The entire great room of the boarding house was being transformed into a ballroom. It was the only place in town large enough to accommodate everyone who was expected. It did, however, convince the Mayor that a new building was needed in town, a social hall for events such as the ball. The idea was immediately accepted by the residents, and next spring, work was to begin on the building. It would be built just down from the boarding house.

  “You need to put those
boxes in the next room, and those rugs need to be brought to Mrs. Taylor, she’s the one seeing to their cleaning,” Zoe said with a huff. She was exhausted. Work began at six that morning and it was almost noon and she hadn’t had a break.

  “All right everyone,” she called. “I think it’s time we took a break for lunch, don’t you think?” she said with a smile. Her suggestion was greeted by agreeing grunts and a few nods.

  “We’ll meet back here at four. Great work,” she said aloud before she closed her notebook and walked toward the exit. She needed to go home and rest for a while. She wasn’t hungry anyway, but an hour or so of sleep sounded pretty good to her at that point.

  Sleep was something that Zoe was getting little of, not since Quinn left town a few days before. She kept having nightmares about a funeral where she was dressed in red and Quinn was blaming her for what happened to him. He said if she’d told him the truth he’d be alive. It was horrible, and Zoe woke in a sweat every time she had it. There was no going back to sleep after. Perhaps a nap in the day would make the prospect of closing her eyes less daunting?

  She trod slowly home and climbed the stairs to her room and closed the door. She sat on the edge to the bed, next to her bedside table. She looked out the window. Zoe could remember doing something similar a lifetime ago, or at least that was what it felt like. It was her fourteenth birthday and they were having a party for her. It was her first. Zoe’s family never had a lot of money, but as the years passed since her birth, things improved and they were able to do things they never were able to before.

  Zoe could remember it clearly. The Kings had been invited, a family of fourteen that her parents took her to visit regularly. They were from their old neighborhood, and with twelve children under one roof, rising up in life was difficult. Zoe’s mother, Rosalyn, never forgot them, however. She would take Zoe to visit them often and have Mrs. King’s girls over for games from time-to-time.

  She was sitting on her bed when her mother came in with a box in her hands. She sat beside her and told her it was a gift that had been in their family for years. It once belonged to her great-great-grandmother, and now she wanted to pass it on to Zoe.

  Zoe’s gaze shifted from the window to the desk beside her. She pulled open the drawer, and there, nestled in the back, was a small jewelry box tucked amidst the papers. She lifted it from where it rested and placed it on her lap. There was no sound when she opened the lid. The device that played the song had long stopped working, but what was inside was most precious.

  Zoe carefully unfolded the delicate fabric that surrounded the ornate brooch. It was a solid silver peacock encrusted with diamonds and sapphires. It was worth a fortune, but the money she could gain from its sale could never eclipse the sentiment attached to it. She never took it out. She was afraid someone might steal it if they knew it existed. It was her secret, the thing that tied her to home—her treasure.

  “Maybe this once,” she said to herself, as she closed her hand around the heirloom. The brooch would go perfectly for an event such as the ball. She could tell anyone who asked that it was a fake she had made on her last trip to Richmond. No one in town knew about gems, there wasn’t even a jewelry store. She could get away with it. Couldn’t she?

  Zoe found she didn’t care what anyone thought. She was going to wear her mother’s brooch to the ball. She just needed a dress that would best complement it. Zoe had several dresses in her closet. She was a woman, after all, and looking nice was something she prided herself on. However, there was nothing that suited an event of this magnitude. She needed to get something new. Thoughts of sleep left her immediately. She was going shopping.

  Mr. Pritcher, not to be outdone by anyone else, had brought in some readymade dresses for the occasion. The price made them impossible for most women in town to afford, but there were a few, like Zoe, who could manage the expense.

  Zoe inspected the dresses that Mr. Pritcher had as he hovered close by. “Anything you need help with Miss Zoe, you just let me know,” he said gleefully. Zoe smiled back at him but continued her perusing. Several minutes passed as she found herself torn between choices.

  However, the moment she lifted them before her frame in the mirror, the choice was made. It was a scarlet silk faille gown. Black lace was sewn around the collar and arms and around the hem of the dress. The color made her eyes and hair stand out, and would do the same to the brooch.

  Zoe didn’t want it to be lost against her dress, but to make a statement. It was silly, but it was like having her mother right there with her, and she needed that now, more than ever. Things were getting out of control and Zoe was starting to lose her focus, and she knew why—Quinn.

  The man was turning her world upside down. He was making her feel things she didn’t expect and want things she had never considered before, and it was all pointless. He was never going to stop chasing Victor and the other man would never give himself up. It was a chase that would go on forever, or until one of them died, and Zoe did not relish the thought of either death.

  “I’ll take this one, Mr. Pritcher,” she said, as she turned her mind from morbid thoughts.

  The sun was warm as she strolled back to the saloon with her parcel in hand. She was very happy with her purchase, and Mr. Pritcher informed her it was the nicest of all the dresses he had brought in for the occasion. He assured her she would be the belle of the ball, which made Zoe smile, but only at his salesmanship. Pritcher could sell apple pie to a baker.

  The thought of food was quickly becoming of greater interest to her as she neared the saloon, and the smell of the lunchtime meal began to waft in her direction. They were having roasted chicken soup with fresh bread, corn on the cob, and raspberry tart for dessert. Maybe I will eat something.

  The thought had barely entered her mind when a distressed Wiley came rushing out the saloon doors, almost knocking her over. “Wiley! What on earth are you doing?” she exclaimed, as she recovered her footing. Another step and she would have fallen off the stoop and flat into the street.

  “Miss Zoe! I was just comin’ to find yah,” Wiley said breathlessly. “There’s a man ‘ere to see yah. He says he’s got news ‘bout Mr. Mortensen.”

  It was as if a noose had been tightened around Zoe’s heart as Wiley uttered Quinn’s name. A man to see her? What did he want?

  Her feet took her before her mouth could open to question Wiley about the visitor. She shoved her parcel into his hands wordlessly as she strode into the saloon in search of the man who was looking for her.

  “O’ there,” Wiley said as he pointed to a short man in a large Stetson. Zoe crossed the room to him immediately.

  “I’m Zoe Ferguson. You were looking for me?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” the man answered. “I have a message for yah from a Quinn Mortensen. It’s real important, he said.”

  “Tell me,” Zoe demanded without cordiality.

  “First I need my payment,” the man said flatly.

  “Excuse me?” Zoe questioned in shock. He told her he had an important message and then demanded payment before his job was completed?

  “I need my payment. It’s a long ride here from Richmond, and I need to be sure I get my pay before I give yah any message. I’ve had too many people run out on me without payin’.”

  Zoe huffed and reached for her purse. “How much?”

  “Three dollars,” the man stated.

  Zoe rummaged until she found the coins and then placed them in the man’s hand, however, she didn’t release them. “Now tell me, or this doesn’t leave my hand.”

  The man eyed her coolly. “Fine. Five days ago Quinn Mortensen made his way to Richmond. He’d been shot. He’s holed up at the doctor’s office there and he’s waiting for yah. He says to hurry.”

  Zoe’s head became light and her hands cold. The coins dropped from her hand into the messenger’s before she stumbled back. Wiley caught her before she fell.

  “Wiley,” she said as she clung to the barman.

  �
��I heard, Miss Zoe. I heard,” he confirmed.

  She looked up at him through a fog. Quinn had been shot. Victor had shot him. How was he? Five days ago? How bad was it? Was he even alive now?

  Terrible thoughts raced through her mind and she remembered her dream. She clapped her hand over her mouth to stop herself from screaming. Was he dead? Was that what the dream meant? Was Quinn dead because she refused to tell him about Victor?

  “Please God, no,” she said to herself. Not that.

  Zoe forced herself to her feet with Wiley’s aid and some of the others who were there to witness her spell. She assured the onlookers that she was fine and to carry on with their business, but Wiley refused to leave her.