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

by Cassidy Hanton

  “It doesn’t make us the same,” Quinn finally answered.

  “It doesn’t make you that much different,” Zoe answered. “Maybe I’m foolish, but I don’t think people are born the people they become. They’re made that way. If it weren’t for my parents, I don’t know where I’d be today. They loved me despite everything. Victor never had that chance. The only person he loved was taken from him by the person who was left to care for him. I doubt he ever knew a day of true love after that day.”

  Zoe’s words gave Quinn a reason to think. Men were raised to be strong, and yes, Victor had more than that to carve his way, but did it really make him into the person he became? Quinn wasn’t sure. What he did know was that it was a pitiful thing to leave the world with no one to care that you were gone. Victor might not have had anyone who was truly for him in life, but in death, Zoe was there to mourn him. It made Quinn think of himself.

  Who will think of me when I’m gone? It was an unpleasant thought and Quinn quickly pushed it aside.

  “Everything?” Quinn questioned. He’d much rather hear about Zoe and her upbringing than think of Victor a moment longer. He might not have sought the opportunity, but he would surely take the one presented to him.

  Zoe’s gaze left him. “Nothing,” she answered. “I need to get these things downstairs so I can bring up fresh linens to dress your wound.”

  “My wound is fine,” Quinn protested. He hid the grimace from his face as he attempted to get more comfortable.

  “Sure it is,” Zoe replied, clearly unconvinced. Her eyes lingered on him for several seconds before she once again attempted to leave. “I’ll get fresh water and bring it right back,” she stated, as she once again gathered everything together.

  Quinn wanted to find another reason to make her stay, but there was no way he could think of that wouldn’t seem suspicious. Zoe was closed off about her family, even the slip just now told him there was something more to it all. What was she hiding? Did it have something to do with the mystery of the brooch? With him?

  He groaned in frustration once Zoe was gone. The questions were threatening to drive him insane.

  Are we related? Could she be my sister?

  Quinn reviewed Zoe’s appearance in his mind. They didn’t look alike, but Quinn had no idea what his real mother and father looked like. What if he looked like their father and Zoe like their mother, or the other way around?

  No, she can’t be. She just can’t.

  Quinn’s hands tightened into fists. Should he tell her? Should he be open and admit to her what he suspected?

  No. I can’t. If it’s true, then…

  The thought trailed away in his mind. He knew what it would mean if Zoe was his sister, and what would happen if she knew it. There would be no more long looks, or moments when his heart would run in his chest at the sight of her. All of that would end. Quinn wasn’t sure he was ready for that.

  She won’t be.

  Zoe had no idea about him. She never mentioned a brother before, and even when she spoke of the brooch, no one else was mentioned. What if she had no idea that there was a child before her? What if he revealed something her family wanted to keep secret? She did say that there was a mystery around the brooch. He couldn’t risk revealing the truth until he was completely sure that it was the truth. What if he was wrong? He could destroy Zoe with his mistake. He needed more proof.

  “There has to be some way of knowing for sure whether we’re related or not. But how?” Quinn questioned aloud. There had to be something and if there was, he was going to find it.

  His mind was still considering options when Zoe returned. She knocked as before and he welcomed her in. Perhaps if they talked more, if he was able to get her to be comfortable with him again, then he could find out the truth. Maybe she would open up again and he could discover more of this mystery?

  You know that’s not the only reason.

  Shut up.

  He rebuked himself. He had to put Zoe out of his mind until he knew the truth. It made no sense…

  Falling more in love with her?

  “What?” Zoe asked as she looked at him.

  “What?” Quinn replied.

  “You’re staring at me. Is something the matter?” Zoe asked.

  He shook his head. “No, of course not. I was just thinking,” he answered.

  “More about Victor?” Zoe asked, as she set the basin of water on the table beside him. She sat on the edge of the bed as she worked the cloth in her hands. He could see tiny wisps of steam as they rose from it.

  “Isn’t that hot?” he asked, as he changed the subject.

  “Nothing I regard,” Zoe answered as she twisted the cloth in her hands. The water poured out of it back into the bowl. “Pull back the sheet,” she instructed him. Quinn did as he was told.

  He remained silent as Zoe wiped the around the bandage. She always did the same thing. First, she cleaned around the bandage before she removed it. Then she changed the water and cleaned the wound itself. She said it increased the chances of preventing infection. He didn’t care. He liked it. He liked watching her take care of him.

  “Zoe,” he said softly.

  “Yes?” she answered, not looking up.

  “Do you think it’s possible to start over?”

  Her hand stopped its actions. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, do you think it’s possible for two people to start anew? To wipe the slate clean and make a fresh start for themselves?” Quinn continued. “That we could?”

  Zoe turned to him, her hazel eyes searching his face. “Do you mean that?”

  Quinn’s hand reached out to take her hand as he nodded. “Yes.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Zoe’s time was torn between work and Quinn. During the day she balanced the obligations and expectations of her business and his needs, and by night she was left to wonder what would become of them. She hadn’t slept much since her return home.

  Zoe took the opportunity offered by Doctor Martin to care for Quinn. She knew he wasn’t happy with her, it was evident in everything he did. He gave her strange looks and asked her even stranger questions. Their days of just smiling at each other seemed over, and Zoe was almost positive that now he had his bounty, when he was healed, he’d leave Shaniko for good. There was nothing to keep him. She’d be a fool to think she alone could make him want to stay. She was trying her best to ease the pain of his eventual departure.

  Some days she couldn’t bear to be near him and feel the awful tension between them. The comfort they once had was gone, and despite her attempts, there seemed to be no way to restore it. Her tears at Victor’s death hadn’t helped the situation, either. That bit of information had gotten around town after their return, and more than one person had come to ask her about it.

  Zoe’s answer was the same. She felt for Victor Norton. She felt for the man who had no one and no one cared to claim him. The boy who went hurt and unloved to become a man everyone thought unlovable. She didn’t think he was right for what he did, never that, but she did see how he became who he was and it hurt her to think there were more people out there like him—the unloved.

  “Wiley, where’s the box of Scotch I brought out here yesterday?” Zoe asked, as she ducked under the bar to look for it. She was sure she’d left it there. Where was it?

  “I already put that out, Miss Zoe,” Wiley replied. “See? Right ‘ere,” he continued as he pointed to the unopened bottles on the shelf.

  She popped up from under the bar, and sure enough, there were the bottles in a neat row. How had she missed them?

  You were thinking about Quinn.

  Zoe took a deep breath. “Thanks, Wiley.”

  “Sure thing, Miss Zoe,” the bartender stated as he continued his work. He was setting out the glasses when something got his attention. “Looks like we’ve got a visitor,” he commented. Zoe turned to see who he was talking about.

  There, standing just inside the door, was a man Zoe had seen before
. He was tall, with hair that was more salt than pepper and an unkempt beard. His nose was long and his skin slightly tanned. He had a satchel strapped across his body and he was propped up on a crutch. Zoe rushed out to meet him.

  “Welcome to The Red Stallion,” she greeted him, as she crossed the room to meet him. “How may I help you?”

  He looked her over. “I’ve seen you. In Richmond,” he commented.

  “Yes, you were at the Doc’s office,” she stated.

  “You came to see the one who got shot in the gut,” the man replied coolly. There was something about him that reminded her distinctly of Quinn. He had that cool aloofness and those questioning eyes. Not to mention the fact that he remembered who she was, and what she’d been doing when he’d seen her. It reminded Zoe of Quinn’s keen sense of his surroundings. Who was this man?

  “Now that we recognize each other, why don’t you tell me your name and how I can help you?” Zoe asked.

  “I came about a room,” the man answered.

  “I can help you there. I’m the owner of this hotel,” Zoe stated. “If you just follow me I think we can set you right up.” She turned from the man and walked back to the bar where the keys were hanging. “I have a room in the middle or one near the end. What’s your poison?”

  “Which is the shortest to the stairs?” the man asked. Zoe found the question curious but didn’t voice her thoughts.

  “The middle,” she answered.

  “I’ll take that one,” the man said. “What’s the cost?”

  “A dollar a night. Pay up front and you get one day free of charge,” Zoe stated as she watched the man reach into his satchel. He was perched so carefully on his crutch, yet it didn’t even falter. It stood completely still as if it were one with the man it was holding up. “I didn’t get your name.”

  “Jim Pope,” the man replied, as he put six dollars on the bar. “I’ll be stayin’ seven nights.”

  “Welcome to Shaniko, Mr. Pope,” Zoe said with a smile, as she handed him the key and then slid the money into her apron pocket. “Your room is right up the stairs. Second on your right. Do you need any help?”

  “I got it,” Pope answered gruffly. “I can work this thing like my leg,” he stated absently. “Whatever happened to the fella you came to see?”

  “He’s upstairs,” Zoe stated.

  Pope looked up. “He ever catch his man?”

  Zoe swallowed hard. “Yes,” she said sadly.

  Pope’s eyes met hers. “I see. Did he kill ‘im?”

  Wiley stopped working beside her as Zoe hesitated in her answer. “Yes.”

  The older man nodded as he slid himself onto the bar stool. “I figured he would,” he stated.

  Zoe frowned. “You expected him to kill him? Why?”

  “When you chase a man that long, and he’s put enough bullets in you, all you want is for it to end. Some men don’t go down easy. A bullet is the only way, and I heard ‘bout the man he was chasing. He wasn’t one that was gonna sit in no cell. He’d either kill or be killed. There wasn’t gonna be no middle with him.” He looked at Wiley, who stood stunned. “Whiskey.”

  Zoe grabbed the bottle of alcohol before Wiley could. Who was Jim Pope and how did he know so much about Quinn? “You know Quinn?” she asked as she poured him a shot. He downed it in one go and put the glass back for another.

  “Never met ‘im before the Doc’s place,” he answered. “But I can smell a bounty hunter from a mile. I used to reek of the same stench.”

  “You’re a bounty hunter?” Zoe continued to question. She poured another shot and pushed the glass across the bar to Pope. She couldn’t believe a man with one leg could track criminals across the country.

  “I was,” Pope replied, as he took the glass and once again swallowed down the liquid in one go. He patted his leg. “This finally ended that.”

  Zoe’s mind drifted to Pope’s missing leg and immediately she thought of Quinn and his leg. What if Victor’s bullet had been worse? What if he’d ended up like this man?

  “Quinn was lucky, then,” she said to herself. Her words caught Pope’s attention.

  “Got himself shot again, eh?”

  Zoe met his dark gaze. She nodded. “Same leg as you.”

  Pope scoffed. “He’s in for a lot more of that.”

  A sick feeling crept into Zoe’s stomach at Pope’s casual response. “Why do you say that?”

  “Because it comes with the life, Lil’ Lady,” he answered. “You get shot and you shoot. Sometimes people die, but as long as it ain’t you, or nearly you, there ain’t nothin’ gonna change.”

  Zoe’s brow knitted. “What do you mean?” She knew it seemed as if she only knew one question, but her mind was trying to process what this man was telling her.

  “I hunted men for years. I caught some of the biggest names around. Made a name for myself in the process,” Pope stated. “What did it get me? A missing leg and more holes in me than a honeycomb.”

  “Why didn’t you stop before?” she wondered aloud.

  “Because of the hunt. There ain’t nothin’ like it,” Pope stated as his eyes drifted off into some distant memory. “Catchin’ a man and bringin’ him to justice is somethin’ that can’t be explained. You feel like you could do anythin’, so you catch one and then another, and another, until your entire life is catchin’ men and there ain’t nothin’ else. That boy has that itch, and when he gets a taste of that first big bounty, there ain’t gonna be no goin’ back.”

  “You can’t be sure of that,” she replied with a nervous laugh, as she thought of the bounty Quinn had just received. Pope’s eyes remained on her.

  “I know his type. I was his type,” he answered. “The work becomes your whole world. You don’t keep company. You have no friends or loved ones, at least none you have contact with. The road becomes your home and every person in it is just a clue to where your quarry is hidin’. When you finally catch ‘em, you need to find another or else you won’t know what to do with yourself. You go sorta stir crazy.”

  Zoe didn’t realize when Wiley poured Pope another drink. One minute the bottle was beside her and the next it wasn’t. She was transfixed by what the man before her was telling her. He sounded so much like Quinn, but an older, more cynical version of him.

  Pope emptied the glass. “If you can, you better talk to him, try to save him from himself.”

  Zoe could hardly breathe. “Why?”

  “There are only two ends for him. He’ll either end up like me or the bounty will put him six feet down.” Pope tossed his head back and swallowed another shot as if it was water.

  “Thank you, Mr. Pope,” Zoe said absently. “I’ll do that.”

  “Just, Pope,” the man answered. He slid from the stool and set himself solidly upon his crutch. “I’ll be gettin’ to my room now, Miss…”

  “Zoe. Zoe Ferguson,” she answered. She hadn’t even realized she’d failed to introduce herself.

  “Nice to meet you, Ma’am,” Pope said with a solemn nod. He placed his hand on the bar in front of her. Zoe’s eyes drifted to his calloused and spotted fingers. “I’m sorry. I could tell right off that you cared for the man, but I’m sayin’ this to you so you can be on your guard. I once knew a lady, who looked after me the way you did him. She waited for me for years. In the end, I broke her heart. I’d hate to see that happen to you.”

  Zoe watched as Pope hobbled his way up the stairs and disappeared behind the door to his room. He was gone for a long time before she could take her eyes away from that door, but the words said didn’t leave her.

  Is that who Quinn might become? Is that how he’ll end up? Or worse?

  She sucked in a ragged breath as she tried to keep her tears at bay. Was Pope right? Were her feelings for Quinn only going to end in heartbreak?

  “Miss Zoe?” Wiley called from beside her. She felt his hand on her shoulder a moment later. He squeezed her shoulder gently. “He might not be right, Miss Zoe. That Pope don’t know everythin
’.”

  “Maybe he knows too much,” she replied, as she turned tear-filled eyes to her friend.

  “Maybe,” Wiley answered somberly. “What will yah do?”

  Usually, she’d force a smile on her face and dismiss the question, but today, she wasn’t able to. Her eyes drifted once more to Pope’s room. She didn’t want Quinn to end up like that. She didn’t want him to be alone and bitter. She didn’t want to be the woman he left behind.

  “Take care of things here, will you, Wiley?” she asked. Her head hurt all of a sudden. She needed to lay down.