Happily Ever After in the West Page 9

  If she got Weaver to leave town, Gordon would go with him, but how to do it?

  She thought again about the gun. She might not be able to shoot the cheat, but he wouldn’t know that.

  Leave whenever he wanted? Well, they would see about that.

  She was sick of his threats, sick of seeing him prey on her friends.

  The boiling molten fury she’d felt earlier changed to a cold determination. Her gaze went back to her brother, who seemed unaware of any trouble, thank goodness. Her attention shifted to Gordon, who gave her a mocking smile as he tapped the butt of the pistol in his holster.

  Zoe spun on her heel and headed for home.

  She was putting an end to this today.

  Zoe hurried away. She didn’t have a gun, but she knew where to get one. Thank goodness, Quentin was gone.

  Stepping inside the house, she hurried into his office. She remained composed, but she felt as if one more run-in with anyone might make her shatter. In the shallow top drawer of her husband’s desk, she found what she had come for. She grabbed the pistol and checked it for bullets, finding the chambers full.

  She thought only a second about unloading it. She had no idea how dangerous Weaver could be. Sliding the gun into her skirt pocket, she rushed into the front room.

  And stopped cold.

  Quentin sat in his wheelchair between her and the door, arms folded, clearly waiting for her.

  He couldn’t know what she had planned. Had something happened to him or Zeke? Dread knotted her stomach, but she gave him a bright smile. “Hi. I thought you were working today.”

  “I plan to, but first I stopped to talk to Davis Lee.”

  She frowned. Why had he been with the sheriff?

  Quentin gave her a steady look. “I thought you were working today.”

  “I am.” She moved toward the door, praying he wouldn’t try to stop her. “And I have to get back.”

  He wheeled his chair to face her. “Why are you here? Did you forget something?”

  She wanted to tell him the truth, but she couldn’t. Not yet anyway. “I’ve got to go.”

  “You’re not leaving until we talk, Zoe.” He clenched his jaw so hard she wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d snapped off a tooth. There was a flush of anger beneath his bronzed skin. “I want to know what’s going on. Are you in trouble? Is Zeke? Has he been stealing again?”

  “No! He only did that because he thought he was helping me keep Dinah in school.” Last year, her brother had stolen all manner of things from their friends, including corsets, and he’d been discovered by Emma Ross.

  The mention of her brother stretched Zoe’s nerves to the breaking point. Dallying here, talking to Quentin wasn’t helping the situation. The only way to help her brother and husband was to get Weaver out of town.

  Urgency pounded at her. Until she got rid of the crook, she couldn’t tell her husband anything. “I really have to go.”

  “Tell me what’s going on.”

  “I…can’t.” Why couldn’t he just let her leave? It was almost over. “Not yet.”

  “Then when?”

  “Later, when I get back.”

  “Later when? Today? This week? This year?”

  “Today.” She hoped she could keep her word.

  “Now.” Quentin rolled his wheelchair over to her, his handsome face unyielding, his eyes blade-sharp. “Zoe, you’re my wife. You can’t keep pushing me away.”

  She didn’t want to. She choked back a sob.

  “I’ve been more than patient.”

  “I know that and I appreciate it. But I really have to go.”

  “Then I’ll go with you.”

  Her heart nearly stopped. “No!”

  “Why not? If you’re going back to work, there’s no reason I can’t tag along.”

  There was absolutely no way she was letting Quentin get anywhere near possible gunfire.

  Fury burned in his eyes as well as hurt. Zoe hated this, but she couldn’t take the chance that Gordon might see him and assume Quentin was helping her.

  Fear and anger merged until she couldn’t tell them apart. Desperate to leave, she pleaded, “I trust you, Quentin. Why can’t you do the same for me? Let me tell you in my own time.”

  “Because you won’t,” he ground out in a steely voice.

  He deserved to know, but fear for her brother wasn’t the only reason she refused to confide in Quentin. Just the possibility that he might get wounded had memories of the past flying at her like arrows.

  She remembered how he had looked seven years ago after being shot by Jake. Blood everywhere, the complete loss of his spirit for months afterward, bitter resentment, begrudging acceptance of his paralysis. She’d seen the man she loved wither away and become someone she didn’t want to know.

  Tears stung her eyes. “Please, Quentin, can’t you just trust me?”

  “We’re past that.”

  That was true, but if there was any chance she might have to use the gun in her pocket, she didn’t want Quentin anywhere near her.

  Her already frayed nerves snapped. “I can’t stay any longer, Quentin.”

  “If you walk out that door, we’re going to have a bigger problem than we do right now.”

  Heart aching, she paused. But she felt she had no choice. She hurried outside and down the ramp. Hearing the creak of leather behind her, she glanced back. Quentin reached the top of the ramp, looking intent on following her.

  Hating this, hating herself, she yelled, “Stay away from me, Quentin! Stay away!”

  He rocked to a stop and stared at her. She would never forget the devastation on his face, the hollowness in his eyes as she walked off.

  “Please,” she whispered. “Just stay away.”

  If he didn’t, she could lose him, lose everything they had. She choked back a sob. She might already have.

  Chapter Seven

  There was no chance in hell that Quentin was going to stay away from Zoe. He didn’t know what was going on, but he was fixin’ to find out.

  As he started to wheel down the ramp, he wondered if he might need a weapon. He had no idea where his wife was going, but if it was somewhere in town, he could do without a gun.

  Just as he dismissed the thought, he saw Zoe ride a black horse out of the livery and cross to the other side of Main Street. She disappeared behind the smithy, urging the horse into a run as she traveled behind the businesses on that side of the street, including the jail.

  He caught a glimpse of red hair and blue calico skirts as she took off across the prairie, riding southeast. He sure as hell wasn’t going without a weapon now.

  He went back into the house and into his office, intending to get his six-shooter. Zoe had been coming out of there when he had arrived home. He hadn’t thought much about it at the time, but now…. Dread flickered as he yanked open the top right drawer and stared. His Peacemaker was gone.

  What the hell was going on? If his wife had his gun, she believed there was danger nearby. But where and from whom?

  Quentin spun his chair around, grabbed his Winchester rifle and his hat from beside the front door and went out, slamming the door behind him. He went straight for the livery, ignoring the voice in his head that cautioned him against riding a horse. It was something he hadn’t attempted or even considered since his surgery, but riding was quicker than a buggy and Quentin needed quick.

  Inside the stable, he found Pete Carter, who owned the place as well as the saloon next door. Quentin chose a mount and sent Pete to the jail with a message for Davis Lee, asking the lawman to follow Quentin’s trail southeast of town.

  He didn’t wait for Pete’s return. The bay mare he’d chosen stood patiently as he managed to get his foot in the stirrup.

  He braced himself for a searing pain. Instead, there was only a sense of pressure.

  He managed to drag one leg over the saddle and sit up. This might put him back in the wheelchair for life, but Quentin didn’t care. Zoe was more important.


  He guided the horse out of the livery and settled his hat more securely on his head. Urging the mare on, he bit back a curse as the animal lunged into motion. He clenched his teeth at the painful jarring and gave the horse its head, finding there was less jouncing at full speed. The pain decreased slightly if he leaned forward and relieved pressure on his lower back.

  He rode into the morning sun, sweating, the glare forcing him to slow down at times to check broken grass and make sure he was still on Zoe’s trail. A wave of agony rolled up his spine, but he didn’t stop.

  Because the drought had left everything so dry, the sheriff wouldn’t be able to track him using horse hoofprints, but there would be plenty of sign in the scorched boot-high grass. Davis Lee was a damn good tracker.

  As Quentin rode, anger vied with pain and concern. He couldn’t imagine what was going on with Zoe. Until he had discovered his gun was missing, he had been only angry. Now he was also worried.

  After a few minutes, he realized that Zoe was headed toward Little Bitter Creek—the spot near where Egan Weaver had said the water well would be drilled.

  Was that where she was going? He remembered how she had tensed up last night when he’d mentioned Weaver and the bonds—which was why Quentin had discussed the man with Davis Lee earlier. Quentin had sent inquiries to newspapers in Kansas and Oklahoma Territory asking for information about Weaver or the bonds. Davis Lee had agreed to wire the law in the towns where Weaver claimed to have sold bonds and drilled a successful water well.

  Several minutes later, Quentin topped a rise and at the bottom of the slope, he saw his wife. Holding a gun on Egan Weaver!

  Quentin nearly fell out of the saddle. What the devil! He blinked to be sure he was seeing what he thought he was.

  Yes, his wife had the business end of Quentin’s six-shooter aimed at Weaver’s chest, dead center. The man was on his knees, barefoot. A pair of dusty black shoes and grimy socks were several yards away.

  Zoe was facing Quentin and her eyes widened when she saw him. The weapon jerked in her hand.

  He slowly guided his horse closer. “What’s going on, Zoe?”

  “Mr. Prescott!” Weaver started to turn.

  With a visibly shaking hand, Zoe jabbed the gun toward him. “You don’t move!”

  The man stilled, his mouth flattening.

  The last thing they needed was for that weapon to discharge. Quentin dismounted, determined not to let Weaver see any weakness.

  Pulling his rifle from its scabbard, he remained beside the horse for support in case his legs gave out.

  “Well, I’ll be,” Weaver said. “That surgery worked.”

  “Yes.” Quentin’s voice was tight.

  Zoe flicked him a concerned look. “Quentin, I told you to stay away.”

  Her words lacked the bite they’d had earlier. “There’s no way I was going to do that. Tell me what’s happening here.”

  “She’s crazy, that’s what!” Weaver burst out.

  Zoe leveled the gun on the man, her hand now as steady as a rock. “Let Quentin see what you’ve got.”

  The man turned a wooden sign toward Quentin.

  Water Bonds Still Available. Quentin’s gaze returned to his wife.

  “There are no bonds,” she said flatly. “There never have been.”

  Frowning, he looked at Weaver as Zoe continued, “And there’s no water well either.”

  “He and Cyrus Gordon have been conning the whole town,” Quentin deduced. “How did you know?”

  And why hadn’t he guessed? He’d been uneasy enough with the bond undertaking to discourage Zeke.

  “On Weaver’s second day in town, I was cleaning his bathing room in the hotel when I overheard him and Gordon discussing the plan to scam everyone in Whirlwind. He caught me and threatened to hurt you and Zeke if I told anyone about it.”

  Her actions were starting to make sense now to Quentin.

  “I wanted to tell you when it first happened, but I was afraid.” Her voice thickened and for the first time, her features showed an emotion besides fury. “He made it clear that he or Gordon could get to you and Zeke anytime they wanted.”

  Quentin’s eyes narrowed. He wanted to protest that neither he nor Zoe’s brother would’ve been easy targets, but they would have been. Zeke was too trusting with strangers. And Quentin had been in that damn chair, then in bed for almost two weeks after the surgery. It had taken another six days to get on his feet for longer than a few minutes.

  He understood why Zoe believed she had better stay quiet, but he still wished she had confided in him or asked for his help with this. As with everything, she had handled it alone.

  “Why did you meet Weaver here?” he asked.

  “I followed him. I’m not going to let him steal from anyone else. I want him gone.”

  Concern streaked through him. “Gone? As in dead?”

  “Out of town, out of our lives.”

  Quentin breathed a little easier until Zoe wagged the pistol at the con man. “You’re going to return every penny you’ve stolen.”

  “There’s nothing left,” he smirked.

  Her mouth tightened. When Quentin heard her thumb down the hammer, his gaze sliced to her. “You’re not going to shoot him, are you?”

  “He deserves it. Look at everyone he’s stolen from. He took money from the Eishens, their last dime! He would’ve happily taken Zeke’s money, too, if you hadn’t stepped in.”

  Quentin didn’t think Zoe would really pull the trigger, but the disdain and righteous anger on her face had him wondering.

  She glared at Weaver. “You’re going to mount up right now and ride out.”

  “You can’t run me out of town, lady.”

  She took a threatening step closer. “No?”

  The man paled.

  “Zoe?” Quentin eased next to her.

  “He should pay for what he’s done.”

  “Not like this. Don’t do it, sweetheart,” he urged, dismissing a twinge in his lower back. “You couldn’t live with yourself if you shot an unarmed man.”

  “I think I could.” Her gaze stayed steady on Weaver. “This lowdown critter anyway.”

  Clearly unsure of her, the con man threw a nervous look at Quentin. “Stop her.”

  Ignoring him, Quentin spoke quietly to Zoe. “Listen to me. When my sister died, I blamed Jake and I thought he should pay, but shooting him was a mistake. Alienating my brother-in-law, who was my only remaining family member, and pushing you away was worse than losing the use of my legs.”

  “Jake isn’t like this lowlifer.”

  “I know, and thank goodness I didn’t kill him, but I could have. I tried to. The regret I’ve had over that has eaten at me for years.”

  “It’s not the same thing, Quentin.”

  “Maybe their wrongs aren’t the same, but my desire for revenge and yours are the same. Trust me, this is not the way to handle it. This no-account dog will get what’s coming to him.”

  She hesitated and Quentin shifted his weight, relieved that the slight twinge he’d experienced was dulling.

  Her mouth set in a mutinous line. “He’s going to get away with stealing from our friends.”

  “Maybe so, but he won’t cheat anyone else. He’s going to jail. Davis Lee isn’t too far behind me.”

  Zoe glanced at him. “Is Weaver why you went to see Davis Lee this morning?”

  “Yes.”

  Admiration glowed in her eyes as she gestured to the swindler. “So, what do we do with him?”

  Quentin patted his rifle. “We keep him here until the sheriff arrives.”

  Weaver cursed, sending a longing look toward his boots.

  Zoe turned to Quentin. “I can’t believe you rode that horse out here. What if you just ruined your surgery?”

  “If I did, it was worth it.”

  “How sweet,” Weaver spat.

  “Shut up,” Zoe and Quentin said at the same time.

  The sound of thundering hooves had all of
them looking toward the rise. Davis Lee appeared and, once his mount joined theirs, he dismounted.

  His features grew stony as Zoe explained the situation.

  “I’ll get him to the jail,” he said when she finished. He nodded at Quentin. “I have a feeling we’ll both be hearing plenty about this fraud from the people we contacted earlier today.”

  “I imagine so.”

  After tying Weaver’s hands behind him, Davis Lee hauled the man to his feet and led him over to a boulder so he could mount. The sheriff tossed the man’s boots into his saddlebag.

  “Davis Lee?” Zoe stepped toward him. “Weaver’s partner, Cyrus Gordon, was hovering over Zeke when I left town. Threatening him.”

  “I’ll take care of it.” The sheriff swung into the saddle, gripping the reins of the con man’s horse. He looked over at Quentin and Zoe. “You two going back to Whirlwind with me?”

  “We’ll follow,” Quentin answered before Zoe could.

  Flipping his rifle barrel-down against his leg, he watched as Davis Lee and his prisoner rode out of sight. Sharp relief ached in his chest. Thank goodness Zoe was safe. He looked over to find her eyeing him with dread, pale and trembling.

  “Are you really mad at me?”

  “Pretty mad.” Without another word, he hauled her to him with one arm and held her close, burying his face in her neck.

  Zoe held on tight, not wanting to let go. Her husband had stopped her from shooting Weaver, but she still might have lost her marriage.

  For a long minute, they stood like that. Zoe’s pulse slowed and against her chest, she could feel Quentin’s settle into a steady, comforting beat.

  He brushed a kiss across her hair. “You scared the devil out of me when I saw you holding a gun on Weaver. I’m so glad you’re all right.”

  She drew away slightly to look up at him. “Are you all right? When you came riding up, my heart nearly stopped. That was so dangerous.”

  He barked out a laugh. “Look who’s talking.”

  If anything had happened to Quentin… Zoe wiped away a tear.

  “Hey.” Quentin nudged her chin up. “What’s this?”

  “If you’ve undone your progress from the surgery, I’ll never forgive myself. I’m sorry you had to come after me.”