by Lydia Olson
In the room, Eloise gazed out the window and down at the road, where cowboys on horses weaved through a large herd of cattle and urged them down the road.
As large as the Hastings ranch was, Eloise had never seen quite so many cattle in one herd before. It was a little bit exciting, for her, to think of Wilson’s place in the town, and that they’d be able to participate in work like this for many years to come.
“What going on out there?” Wilson asked, wrapping his arms around Eloise from behind.
“Oh, you’re back!” Eloise said, leaning into his arms.
“I only went downstairs,” Wilson reminded her, giving her a peck on the cheek. “Was I really gone that long?”
“No, it’s just going to be wonderful to spend every second of the next few days with you,” she said. “I know we’ll have to go back to work soon, and I just want to enjoy every second with you until then.”
Wilson chuckled and brushed his fingertips gently along her arms before wrapping his arms around her again. The two of them watched the hoard of men herd cattle, staring out the window in silence for a while. Eloise leaned her head against Wilson’s chest and breathed gently, basking in the still calm of the moment. Even when neither of them had anything to say, it felt good to be together.
“I forgot the cattle drive was starting up the Santa Fe Trail today,” Eloise said. “It’s interesting to watch it from all the way up here, isn’t it?”
“It is, but I think it would be more interesting down there, in the thick of it,” he said. “I think I’d like to be a part of that in the future.”
“I don’t think anyone would try to stop you,” Eloise told him. “Cayenne has changed so much in such a short time, and it’s all because you had a vision of a better world, and everyone had a place in it. I don’t think this town will ever forget your name and what you’ve done here.”
“Yes, well, some people have been trying to convince me to rename the hotel after myself, but I told them something like that would never happen,” he said. “I don’t want my name to be what’s important here.”
Eloise bit her lip and looked down at her hands.
It had been a while since they’d talked about Wilson’s feelings toward Cayenne, and even after everything he’d done to build it up, he didn’t seem to like the idea of being tied to it in any way. Eloise felt a bit guilty, knowing that he may only be doing all this work to make the town more comfortable because he knew he had to stay to be with her.
“What is it?” Wilson wondered, gently brushing her hair behind her ear.
“What do you mean?”
“You had that look on your face – like you’re bothered by something. Funny how you’ve changed so much since we were kids, but your face still shows exactly what you’re thinking. Just like it always has.”
“Oh, uh, I was just thinking...” she said, sighing. “Are you happy to be in Cayenne?”
“Happy to be in town right now?” he asked.
“No, what I mean is, you said that you didn’t want to stay put when you first came back,” she reminded him. “It kinda sounded like you just came back for me, and now I feel like I sort of demanded it of you with wanting to keep the ranch and all... but are you happy to be here?”
Wilson swept Eloise into his arms, lifting her feet off the ground. As he swung around so that her feet could reach the ground once more, he kissed her passionately. Eloise felt her knees weaken and her face grow hot as the blood rushed to her cheeks. Wilson continued to kiss her until he noticed Eloise was fanning herself and very near falling backward.
“You’re here,” he said. “I don’t know what better place there is to be than with you.”
“Yes, but you’re just talking about what I want, and I want to know that you’ll be happy here – that I haven’t convinced you to be somewhere you’re miserable just because you love me,” she said.
“Oh...?” he said, playfully. “Does that mean you need more proof that I’m happy to be here?”
Eloise felt her cheeks burning, which she knew meant they were likely bright pink. She rarely felt as nervous as she did now, but Wilson’s welcoming smile and physical warmth was inviting. Eloise smiled shyly.
“Yeah, I think I’d like that,” she told him, swinging the bedroom door shut.
THE END?
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Blurb
Every fiber of her being tells her that he is a righteous man ⎯ not the safe guy you’d love, but the dangerous one who makes your pulse race.
When Mia and Carson first laid eyes on each other, their hearts skipped a beat. They never suspected that this would not be the only rush of adrenaline they would feel.
Mia Carter feels finally free. She can unburden her family while at the same time, find a loving home with her brother, Jonas, and his family. Or so she thinks.
Her new town, Tombstone, is in a gang war and Jonas’s poker hall is right in the middle!
Unable to refuse his cry for help, Mia will find herself caught between the Powells, Dodds, and Dooleys’ fight for dominance.
Little did she know, while she gets closer to Carson, that he is the leader of the Powells Gang.
As the truth will be quickly revealed, Mia will be left heartbroken, and Carson shattered by her detachment.
But with the Dooleys’ deadly threat approaching, Mia, Jonas, and Carson will agree in a never before truce, solely intended for fighting the common enemy. But in this case, the road to love is paved with these intentions.
If you like fast-paced, romance and emotion-packed stories in the Old West, read this compulsively addictive Novel by Lydia Olson.
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A Truce for Love
STAND-ALONE NOVEL
A Western Historical Romance Novel
by
Lydia Olson
Chapter One
Mia
The stagecoach from Oatman turned onto the main street of Tombstone, the hooves of the team clopping on the rutted ground. Mia Carter looked out at the dusty, noonday streets, which the Arizona sun beat down upon mercilessly. The stores all appeared to be open, but there were few people out at this hour.
When the stagecoach pulled in at the stop, Mia looked across the street and gasped. Three men were tussling in the dirt. It appeared that the fight was two against one.
Two of the men were dressed all in black—long coats, dark hats, and high black boots. Their opponent was a red-haired man, dressed in a white shirt and brown homespun pants, held up by suspenders. One of the two men in black threw a punch at their opponent’s face, knocking him backwards.
The second man stomped on the man who had fallen. The red-haired man was quick to roll over and out of the way of the man’s boot, which had a glinting spur attached to it.
“Oh!” Mia exclaimed, her hand going to her mouth. She watched, horrified by the wanton display of violence, right before her eyes, and in broad daylight, no less. The red-haired man got to his feet, throwing a punch at one of the men in black, whose hat fell off, rolling away down the road.
The driver of the stagecoach jumped off the box, and tied the horses to a hitchin
g rail. He was a middle-aged man, with a thick beard, and bright blue eyes.
“Stay in here while I break them apart,” he muttered. Mia nodded, staying put. She wondered where the sheriff was, and whether she should run to fetch him. She gripped the edge of the coach window, watching.
The driver ran across the street. He pulled the red-haired man and one of the other men apart, yelling at them. The red-haired man’s lip was split, and bright blood dripped down his chin.
He was good-looking, his five o’clock shadow dusting his face with gold. Mia thought that she might have been interested in him if he wasn’t clearly such a rabble-rouser. He had the beginning of a nasty bruise on his cheek, just below his one of his bright green eyes.
“Get ahold of yourselves!” the driver bellowed, pushing the red-haired man away from the others. “No reason to be fighting like this.”
“Get out of our town, Powell,” one of the men in black snapped.
“It’s as much mine as anyone else’s,” Powell, of the green eyes, sneered.
“Move along,” the driver said, insinuating himself in the middle, with one arm against Powell’s chest, his hand grabbing a fistful of his shirt. One of the dark-clothed men said something vile, Powell strode off, and then the two men in black turned away. The driver stood watching them make their way toward the Bird Cage Theater. Mia could see its sign from where she sat. She knew, without anyone telling her—it was a house of ill-repute. Jonas had met his wife there. Lily had been a dancer. It caused quite the stir with Mia’s mother, back when the marriage took place. Even recently, Mia’s mother still muttered to herself about her son going to Tombstone to get rich on silver, and instead making deals with devils.
“Here, miss,” the driver said, opening the door for her and smiling. He seemed a kindly sort. “I’ll get your bags down from the boot.”
“Thank you, kindly,” she murmured, stepping down out of the stagecoach. The heels of her half-boots crunched on the hard-packed gravel of the road. As she waited, she smoothed out the long cotton skirt of her dress. It had a simple pattern of blue flowers on a brown background. She wore her apron, despite not working that day—for once. Most days held work and more work, ever since she and her mother had opened a boarding house in Oatman. It was just such a part of her daily wardrobe that she’d feel strange without it.
She adjusted her bonnet, a simple straw one, and tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. Her hair, so dark that it was nearly black, was in a single braid that hung all the way down her back. She’d turned twenty years old, just last spring.
She looked down at her hands, which were roughly calloused, from scrubbing floors, and scouring dirty pots and pans with sand and ash. Pulling a pair of soft cotton gloves out of her pockets, she tugged them on. Ordinarily, she’d have gone without them, but she was out and about, and wanted to look reputable.
The driver handed Mia her bags. She suddenly realized that she had no idea where she was going.
“Do you know where Carter’s Gambling Hall is?” she asked the driver, feeling silly for not knowing. He looked surprised for a moment, and Mia realized that he thought that she was going there to gamble. “My brother owns it. I’m to find him there,” she explained, watching as the surprise left his face. He nodded.
“Just down the street aways,” he said, pointing her in the right direction.
“Thank you, sir.”
He tipped his dusty hat. “Have a good day, miss. And good luck.”
“What do I need luck for?” she asked, frowning.
“Tombstone’s the very definition of the Wild West,” he explained, gesturing down the street with his chin. “Lots of dangerous sorts.” Mia looked in the direction that he was pointing, to see that a Black Maria was approaching. The ornate black hearse was pulled by two sleek black horses. Inside the glassed-in wagon lay a pine box. “It goes by at least once every day.”
“Why so many deaths?” Mia asked. After all, Oatman’s own Black Maria was busy itself—the mines were a dangerous place, taking many lives all of the time. But Tombstone didn’t have a mine. It was mostly a waystation for people traveling through.
“Fights, mostly. It may be eighteen ninety-four, but this here ain’t no civilized town. The Black Maria of Tombstone is the busiest hearse in the country for a reason.” Mia watched the hearse turn the corner, on its way to Boothill Cemetery, just outside of the town. No one followed the hearse, indicating that the person inside had no one mourning him.
“Thanks for the advice,” she told the driver. “I’m here to live with my brother. He’ll take care of me.”
He nodded, but looked doubtful. “You might want him to teach you how to use a weapon, miss. You never know when a boot knife might come in handy.”
“I’ll talk to my brother about it,” she said, nodding her thanks.
Mia began to walk toward her brother’s gambling hall, feeling unsettled. The people who were out were all walking quickly—rushing to get back inside.
It was the hottest part of the day, hot even on the shaded the wooden boardwalk, covered by a porch roof, all of the way down the street. No one paid her any mind. She glanced back to see that the driver was watching, to make sure that she got to her brother safely. He raised his hat to her, and she nodded. She began to walk faster.
She breathed a sigh of relief when she noticed her own last name on the sign. Carter’s Gambling Hall. Established 1892. It was a building of dark red brick, with a green door and shutters to match.
She entered to find it crowded, with men sitting around the tables, playing cards and drinking. The bar was crowded, too, with dusty-looking men. It was noisy with many conversations.
She didn’t see a single woman, until she spotted a few, crowded around several of the men who sat at the tables. They were wearing brightly colored gowns, which were low-cut. Her eyes traveled the room, searching for Jonas. She finally spotted him: her brother was leaning against the bar, looking down at his hand, which he was flexing.
“Jonas!” Mia called out, excited to see him again. It had been two years since they were last together. After all, he was a business owner, husband, and a new father. He didn’t have the time to come out to Oatman.
He looked up, his eyes wide, as though expecting someone else. A wide grin spread across his face as he realized that it was his sister.
“Mia!” he said, ambling over to her with his usual easy stride. He was dressed in smart black slacks and a crisp, white shirt, with a black vest. He had a cigarette between his teeth.
“What happened to you?” Mia asked as she noticed the cut across his cheek, and the way that he was cradling his hand. It looked swollen. He took the cigarette out of his mouth with his uninjured hand, throwing it to the floor as he exhaled a cloud of smoke away from his sister.
“This?” he asked, holding up his injured hand. “This is nothing.” He frowned then placed a hand on her shoulder. “You’ve made it! It’s good to see you.”
“You too,” she said. “Thanks for letting me come to stay with you.”
“Of course! Anything for you, Mia, love.” Behind him, a few of the men watched their exchange.
