A Truce For Love (Western Historical Romance) Read online

  A Truce for Love

  STAND-ALONE NOVEL

  A Western Historical Romance Novel

  by

  Lydia Olson

  Copyright© 2019 by Lydia Olson

  All Rights Reserved.

  This book may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form without the written permission of the publisher.

  In no way is it legal to reproduce, duplicate, or transmit any part of this document in either electronic means or in printed format. Recording of this publication is strictly prohibited and any storage of this document is not allowed unless with written permission from the publisher

  Table of Contents

  * * *

  A Truce for Love

  Table of Contents

  Let’s connect!

  Letter from Lydia Olson

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-One

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  Chapter Fifty

  Chapter Fifty-One

  Chapter Fifty-Two

  Chapter Fifty-Three

  Chapter Fifty-Four

  Chapter Fifty-Five

  Chapter Fifty-Six

  Chapter Fifty-Seven

  Chapter Fifty-Eight

  Chapter Fifty-Nine

  Chapter Sixty

  Chapter Sixty-One

  Chapter Sixty-Two

  Chapter Sixty-Three

  Chapter Sixty-Four

  Chapter Sixty-Five

  Chapter Sixty-Six

  Chapter Sixty-Seven

  Chapter Sixty-Eight

  Chapter Sixty-Nine

  Chapter Seventy

  Chapter Seventy-One

  Chapter Seventy-Two

  Chapter Seventy-Three

  Epilogue

  A Sheriff’s Haven for the Rebellious Bride

  A Western Historical Romance Novel

  Lydia Olson

  Chapter 3 – Bree

  Your Honest Review

  * * *

  Let’s connect!

  * * *

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  Letter from Lydia Olson

  * * *

  “There is no better place to heal a broken heart than on the back of a horse”

  This is my moto, this is how I grew up.

  My name is Lydia and when I am not baking cookies with my daughter or riding the bike with my son, I am a Western Historical Romance writer. It is my passion, my hobby and my career.

  After I received my BA in Psychology I realised that this would help me create believable characters. Characters that are based on real people. I want my readers to feel as if they have lived themselves in the West.

  Growing up myself in a ranch I have a lot of tales to share. Stories that will help you not escape reality, but rather navigate you through reality. You will feel what it would feel to go through situations that make your heart pound and your palms sweat. You will access the depths of someone else’s mind, you will open your selves to new experiences and different point of views.

  What do you say? Wanna take a vacation with me?

  Lots of hugs,

  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 hitching 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.

  “Hey! Jonas!” one of them called. He was a heavy-set man, with a face that was pink from drinking and walking around out in the sun. Jonas whirled to face him. “Who’s this, then?” The man gestured towards Mia curiously.

  “This is my sister, Nash,” Jonas replied. “And she’s a good girl. Which means that she’s off-limits, for all of you thugs.” Mia heard the dangerous tone come into Jonas’s voice—the one that he used when he meant business. She wondered what kind of a look was on his face—he was clearly frightening Nash.

  The man held up his hands. “I meant no offense,” he claimed.

  “So you say,” Jonas replied coolly. He turned back to Mia, reaching out with his uninjured hand. “Let me take your bags. I’ll get you home so you can get settled in.”

  “Thank you,” she said, handing him one of her bags. “I can manage the other.” Jonas tugged it away from her, nonetheless. She followed him out the door and back into the heat. He traveled along the roofed boardwalk, and down the street. Mia felt like she was spinning, but she walked quickly to match his pace. Already, Tombstone was proving to be a force of its own, one which had changed her brother—made him hard. She wondered if it would have the same effect on her.

  “So, this here’s Tombstone,” Jonas said grandly. “City of kings. Speck of dust. Blink of an eye.” He was talking quickly, filling up the silence with a barrage of words. “How was your journey?”

  “Not bad. Mama sends her love.”

  “And the boys?” he asked, referring to their younger brothers—the twins, John and Elias, who were twelve.

  “Rambunctious as ever.” They were walking past small houses, just off the main street. Jonas laughed as he turned into the yard of a neat white clapboard house with a tiny porch on the front. Jonas opened the door, calling out for his wife as he held it open for Mia.

  Inside, the little house was darkened. The shades were all drawn, to keep out the heat of mid-May. Everything in there was really nice and new. The house was clean. Clearly, Jonas was doing pretty well for himself.

>   Lily came down the hallway, emerging from the darkness. She was a beautiful woman, with blonde hair and large blue eyes, dressed in a rich gown of dark blue shiny material. Mia immediately felt ordinary beside her.