The saloon was quiet save for two patrons who were seated by the bar drinking. It was early in the day, but who was she to dictate the actions of others? She only supplied their needs.
“Follow me,” she instructed Mr. Mortensen. Zoe walked to her office. “Wiley,” she called. The bartender looked up from his work.
“Yes, Miss Zoe?” he asked.
She set the basket on the bar top. Liza and some of the girls from the boarding house had taken it upon themselves to make her a few treats. Zoe would share it with the rest of the staff later, but for the moment she had more pressing matters to consider.
“Take these in the kitchen and see that they’re put away until later,” she instructed. Wiley nodded his understanding and came to retrieve the basket and its contents.
“I smell pecans,” he murmured. He looked in Mr. Mortensen’s direction and then averted his gaze. Clearly, she wasn’t the first person that the man had addressed with his query. Zoe wondered how many others had been likewise questioned. Mr. Mortensen had better beware. Victor didn’t like others meddling in his affairs, not even those he considered friends.
She nodded to Wiley before proceeding to her office. He would know what to do. She would speak to him later.
Zoe unlocked the office door and stood aside to allow Mr. Mortensen inside. She closed the door behind him. “Have a seat.”
“Don’t mind if I do,” he replied, as he removed his hat and set it in front of him.
“Who are you, Mr. Mortensen?” Zoe asked flatly. “And who is this man you’re asking me about?”
“My name’s Quinn Mortensen. I’m a bounty hunter and former lawman,” he explained.
“And this Mr. Norton is the fugitive you’re looking for?”
He nodded. “Yes. I’ve been tracking this man for the past five years,” he said. “He’s wanted for a triple murder.”
Zoe’s stomach knotted. “Murder?” she said quietly.
“Yes, three brothers. One made the mistake of insulting him during a drunken game of cards. He beat the man to death. When his brothers discovered what had happened, they sought him out. He killed them, too, leaving their mother alone to care for their seven sisters.”
“Seven?” Zoe questioned gently. “All alone. That must be hard.”
“It is. Made worse by having the three people helping her killed and the man who did it allowed to roam free these past five years,” Mr. Mortenson explained.
“That’s why you’re hunting him? For her?”
His jaw twitched and his eyes lowered. They lingered there for a moment before returning to her face. “Do you know him?”
Zoe was sorry to hear what Victor had done. She really was, but turning him in wasn’t an option. You didn’t report Victor Norton. You kept your mouth shut and stayed out of his business.
“Why do you think I would know him?” she asked, avoiding the question.
“Because of who you are in this town,” he explained. “I hear you know everyone who’s worth knowing and they know you.”
Zoe chuckled lightly. “Who told you that?”
“I hear things,” he answered calmly.
“You should be careful what you listen to,” she warned playfully. “People like to talk around here. Not all of it is true.”
“What I heard about you seems true enough.”
“Really? Well, do tell,” Zoe answered as she leaned back in her seat and smiled. “What d’you know about me?”
Mortensen sat back and kept his eyes on her. Zoe didn’t blink as he began to speak.
“You’re a self-made woman. You’re determined. You came here on your own and started a business, which means you’re smart and creative. Not every woman who comes to this part of the world thinks of making it as anything other than someone’s wife.”
Zoe smiled internally at the comment. It wasn’t the usual thing she heard from people.
“Should I continue?” Mortensen asked.
“By all means,” she smiled.
“You turned that small business into an even bigger, more lucrative one, which means you’ve got forward sight. You know a good thing when you see it and you know how to get what you want. It tells me you didn’t have much as a girl.”
Zoe bristled.
“Someone who was born with money wasn’t coming this way and they weren’t going to show the determination you did to make it out here on your own,” Mortensen continued. “You don’t trust people.”
“Excuse me?” Zoe interrupted.
“No one knows anything about you but the story of how you came and started your business. They don’t even know where you’re originally from, which says to me you aren’t a woman who lets people in. You hold them just close enough to know what they need, but not close enough for them to know you.”
Zoe’s insides were knotting as she sat listening to this man who didn’t know her, tell her about herself. She remained quiet, listening, and wondering how he knew what he did.
“You were raised by a strong woman or one who took no guff and didn’t wait on anyone to tell her what she needed to do. You have that independent spirit in you,” Mortensen said gently. “She was a woman who taught you how to make it on your own. She taught you to care and to be considerate, but also how to stand up for yourself. But something made you run.”
“Run?” she scoffed. “I don’t run.”
“Away from home. Away from that place which made you who you are, to a place where you could become anyone you wanted to be. You learned something you didn’t like, maybe? Something that changed the way you saw your life? Or were you one of those young women who longed for adventure?” He smirked.
Zoe wanted to take her eyes from him but she couldn’t. Those azure orbs were sucking her in with every word he spoke, and doing things to her insides that she couldn’t explain. It was as if something inside her was turning soft and pliable like dough in his hands.
“Whatever it was, made you distrust people. Made you doubt what you know and who you know. That’s why here you wear a painted smile and are everything that anyone thinks you are, but you’re none of those things, are you?”
She shook her head lightly and laughed. “Well, Mr. Mortensen…”
“Quinn,” he corrected.
Zoe looked at him gently. “All right, Quinn, you have a right fine imagination.”
He smiled but remained silent for the moment. Zoe did, too. Her throat felt thick all of a sudden.
“You tell me a story,” Quinn broke the stillness between them.
“I don’t have any stories to tell,” Zoe answered. “I don’t know the man you’re looking for. I’ve never seen him. If I had, I’d tell you, but I haven’t.”
Quinn looked at her for a long time. “I’m not leaving this place until I catch him.”
“I can see that,” Zoe answered, to the determination in his eyes. He was a man of his word; she could tell that already. If he said he wasn’t leaving until Victor was caught, then he wasn’t. She hoped, for his sake, that something would change that.
“Mr. Mortensen...”
“Quinn,” he repeated.
“Quinn...right. Well, Quinn, I can’t help you with this situation, but I can at least give you a place to stay while you’re in town.”
He smirked. “I think that serves us both, doesn’t it?”
She smiled. “I suppose it does. How long do you plan on staying in Shaniko?”
“Until he’s in custody.”
“That could be a long time,” she said lightly. “That’s a mighty high bill you might be racking up for yourself.”
“That’s not an issue.”
Zoe smiled. “Now I just learned something about you,” she said.
“Really?”
“I think I have a story for you now,” she answered as she leaned back further and smiled. “You’re a man who comes from a loving family. That’s why family means so much to you. Why the death of that woman’s sons bothered you so much.”
&nb
sp; Quinn remained still, like a statue he didn’t move, the only thing that read of life was the glimmer in his eyes.
“You identify with that family. Maybe you were the older brother to a lot of sisters,” she suggested. She looked for some sign of confirmation, but there was none. She continued.
“I don’t know why you became a lawman, but I think I know why you became a bounty hunter,” she said.
“Do you?”
“Yes. Frustration. They gave up on catching him long before you did, and that bothered you because all you could see was that woman and her girls. A woman who reminded you... of your mother maybe?”
Quinn remained silent.
“You have no wife or children. You’re a loner. Your sole identity is the job. That’s why for five years you’ve chased one man.” She smiled. “I bet you haven’t had a friend in that entire time, either. Never even thought of stopping and staying where you were for a second, did you?”
Zoe saw the lump in his throat bob slightly and she knew that something of what she was saying was true.
“You aren’t the only one who can tell things about people,” she said calmly.
“I’m seeing that,” Quinn replied, as his eyes remained on her. “Anything else?”
“Yes. People are secondary to you. Just pieces in a puzzle or the means to an end in finding your man.”
“Why would you say that?” he asked, as he sat back and assumed a more relaxed stance. Zoe felt the subtle tension between them lift.
“Because, you told me a lot about myself, not because you were interested in it, or even me, but because it helped you get your point across.”
“Which was?” he asked with a cocked brow.
“That you aren’t a man easily fooled. You’re smarter than you look and not someone to trifle with.”
He smiled. “We seem to know a lot about each other, Miss Zoe,” he commented.
“You think so? I’d say we know very little about one another,” she said with a smile of her own. “But I have the feeling that that’ll change. She smiled. “I like you, Quinn.”
“Isn’t that what every hotel proprietor says to keep their customers coming?” he mused.
“Yes, but I don’t say things I don’t mean. If I say I like you, then I like you.”
“Then I take that as a compliment, Miss Zoe.”
“Have you eaten?” she asked, as she looked at him. “I usually have lunch about this time. You’re welcome to join me.”
“I’d appreciate that,” he said calmly.
“I’ll have Weyland bring in two plates. We can talk some more while we eat. I think there’s more to tell about this man you’re hunting and I’m interested in hearing it.”
“Why?”
“Because, if I’m going to help you find him, I need to know as much as I can. It’ll help me figure out the type of people he would be around. Then I would know whom to ask.”
She was a master pretender. It wasn’t because she wanted to be, but it was a knack she had and one that served her well in her business. You had to smile and be friendly with people at their best and worst. She had to calm tempers and avert grabbing hands while still maintaining a good relationship with the person on the other side. Sometimes, it meant she had to swallow her feelings or bury them so deep that no one could see. Now was a prime example.
Zoe meant it when she said she liked Quinn. His ethics were something she respected, as well as his determination, but it wasn’t enough to risk her own neck or betray Victor. What he had done was wrong, she knew it, but she owed him a huge debt and this, she hoped, would see it repaid forever.
She left Quinn in her office while she went to the kitchen to order their meals. The saloon front had filled up with the lunchtime crowd. The smell of freshly cooked food filled the atmosphere and made her stomach rumble.
“Hey Weyland, what’re we having today?” she asked, as she pushed open the door and walked inside. He looked up at her and smiled.
“We’ve got meatloaf, with mashed potatoes, baked vegetables in bacon grease, sourdough rolls, and apple tarts for dessert.”
“Sounds delicious,” she said with a smile and a small clap of her hands. “I want two plates in my office right away.”
“Two?” Weyland asked curiously.
“Yes, two,” she replied as she turned on her heels. “Oh,” she said as she looked back. “And don’t be shy with those helpings.”
“Hi, Miss Zoe.”
“Hello, Miss Zoe,” person after person called as she walked back onto the saloon floor.
“How’re you all today?” she asked a table of miners that were sitting nearby.
“Real good. This fixins are the best in all Oregon,” one toothy man replied, as he dipped his roll in the gravy and stuffed it in his mouth.
“Where’d you learn to cook so good?” another asked.
“My mother,” she replied with a smile. “Plus a few ideas of my own,” she mused. The men smiled.
“Where’ver it dun come from, don’t be shy on sharin’,” another joked.
“I’ll be sure to remember that. You all enjoy your meal. The next round of drinks is on me.”
“Thank you, Miss Zoe,” the table chorused as she walked away.
“Make sure they get one round on me,” she instructed Wiley as she passed him at the bar. “Nothing too expensive,” she added.
“I’ve got ‘em,” he replied, as he set up another round of drinks for one of the patrons down the bar. Zoe returned to her office.
“Lunch should be here in a minute,” she informed Quinn as she walked back to her desk.
“Sounds like you’re busy out there,” he stated.
“Yes. We have two types of customers at the saloon; those who come for their midday meals and we hardly see them after, and those who come to spend the money they earn on drink and games at night.”
“Men need to let off steam after a long day.”
“And I give them a safe place to do that,” Zoe added.
“You never have any trouble with people getting outta hand?”
“Never,” Zoe answered with a sigh. “I respect them and they respect me. We don’t have any trouble that way.”
“And what happens if someone who doesn’t respect you comes in those doors looking for trouble?” Quinn asked seriously.
Zoe’s eyes met his. “They find it. The Sheriff and his deputies are real good patrons. I have several of them in here every night. Some working and some just having fun.”
“I thought I smelled a deputy last night,” Quinn mused.
“You can’t really miss ‘em,” Zoe chuckled. “They tend to flash their badges around.”
“I know,” Quinn said with a small, pleasant smile. “I remember.”
“What? Were you like ‘em? Flashing your badge wherever you went?” she questioned, interested.
“Once upon a time,” Quinn answered, with a distant look in his eyes. “When you get that badge you feel invincible. It’s like nothing can touch you and suddenly you’re somebody in a world of nobodies.”
“Is that how you saw others? As nobodies?”
“No. That’s what I used to be,” Quinn answered.
Zoe considered his answer, but she didn’t have a chance to ask more as a knock on her door disrupted the moment. “Come in.”
Weyland walked in, balancing two plates of food on a tray. He looked at her and smiled but it soon lifted when his eyes settled on Quinn. Zoe could see the gears in his mind turning. He was wondering who Quinn was and why he was having lunch with her in her office. Zoe didn’t usually allow people back there, far less shared a meal with anyone. Quinn had forced her to act outside of her norm, but he didn’t know that.
“Where d’ya want ‘em?” Weyland asked.
“Right here,” Zoe answered, as she indicated her desk. “You can serve Mr. Mortensen first.”
Weyland did as she asked. He set the plate before Quinn and then came around to lay hers before her. “Do ya
need anythin’ to drink?”
“I’ll have some of Millie’s apple cider,” Zoe answered. She turned to Quinn. “What’re you feeling for?”
“Apple cider sounds good to me,” he replied coolly. He was watching Weyland with suspicion equal to the man watching him. Zoe smiled to herself. If they’d been dogs, they’d be circling the room now with teeth bared. Why were men so territorial about things, including people? She didn’t need anyone watching over her. She could take care of herself.
“You can go, Weyland,” Zoe said, when she realized the man didn’t seem to be moving.
He nodded his head, but his eyes remained on Quinn. “I’ll be right back.”
“I’m sure you will,” Zoe said with amusement as she watched her cook leave. She turned back to Quinn. “Now, where were we?”
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Thank you very much!
Also by Cassidy Hanton
Thank you for reading For the Love of a Wounded Cowboy!
I really hope you liked reading it, as much as I enjoyed writing it If you did, may I ask you to please write a review HERE? It would mean the world to me. Reviews are very important and allow me to keep writing the books that you love to read! ♥
Some other best sellers of mine:
A Western Tale of Love and Fate!
The Salvation of a Runaway Bride
The Sheriff’s Rebellious Bride
Loving a Forbidden Bride
An Unconventional Bride for the Rancher
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Thank you for being part of my journey!
Cassidy
About the Author
Born overlooking the Jefferson river in Montana, Cassidy Hanton has always been attracted to the nature of the West. As the only girl of six siblings, her mother used to tell her stories that she later on discovered they came from her favorite romance novels.
For the Love of a Wounded Cowboy: A Historical Western Romance Book Page 31