Western Wishes

By Susan Horsnell

Abigail Miller helps run her mother's diner in the town of Hopeful, Colorado.
How could any man possibly be interested in her when she considers herself too tall, too plain and not curvy enough?
A head of curls which refuse to be tamed also doesn't help.
Working from sun up to sun down, with the exception of Sunday mornings off to attend church, doesn't leave much time for courting, so she is resigned to her fate of being left a spinster.
Will a wish made at the town well during a full moon ever be answered?

Max Long is the eldest son of a well-respected ranching family.
His sister is Abigail's best friend.
Overhearing a conversation, he wonders if his feelings for Abigail could run deeper than mere friendship?
How will Max react when Abigail's life is in danger?
Can the wishing well work its magic and bring her home safely?
Will a wish made at the town well during a full moon ever be answered?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lipstick Publishing
• Release date: Oct 31, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223398141

Susan Horsnell

I’m an Australian author who lives in Queensland when not travelling and I write in a variety of Romantic sub-genres, including Western,  Historical, Gay, Mafia, and Contemporary Romance.  I have published over 60 books and novellas, many of which feature strong, independent heroines and rugged, alpha male heroes. Some of my popular series include the Outback Australia series and The Carter Brothers series. My books are known for their well-researched historical details, vivid descriptions of the Australian landscape and real life experiences. My work has garnered praise from readers and critics alike, and I have been a Finalist in both the Rone Awards and Laramie Awards as well as being a multiple times International Bestselling Author and USA Today Bestselling Author. If you're interested in learning more about my books:  Linktree https://linktr.ee/SusanHorsnell   

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Copyright © 2020 by Susan Horsnell

The right of Susan Horsnell to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her under the Copyright Amendment (Moral Rights) Act 2000

All rights reserved. This publication (or any part of it) may not be reproduced or transmitted, copied, stored, distributed or otherwise made available by any person or entity (including Google, Amazon or similar organisations), in any form (electronic, digital, optical or mechanical) or by any means (photocopying, recording, scanning or otherwise) without prior written permission from the author.

This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

Written by Susan Horsnell

Edited: Redline Editing

Proofread: Leanne Rogers

Published by: Lipstick Publishing

Note to Reader:

This book is purely fictional, a product of the author’s imagination and is written for the reader’s enjoyment. It is not intended to be used for Historical education.

The characters, town and businesses are fictional and should be regarded as such.

Background

Hopeful is a fictional town founded in 1858. My story is set in 1875. Allenville is also a fictional town, 5 miles from Hopeful.

A gold rush, based on historical fact, brought many seeking their fortune into the area and the town of Hopeful was founded.

The Pike's Peak Gold Rush (later known as the Colorado Gold Rush) was the boom in gold prospecting and mining in the Pike's Peak Country of western Kansas Territory and southwestern Nebraska Territory of the United States that began in July 1858 and lasted until roughly the creation of the Colorado Territory on February 28, 1861.

Many people already lived in the area, farming and ranching before gold was discovered. Their nearest town at the time being Allenville, which provided shopping and the children’s schooling.

The Long family had owned their ranch, Mykita, under dubious circumstances, since 1831. It had been won in a card game at the Allenville Saloon by William Long. Although it was said he had cheated, it had never been proven and he had long since passed, leaving his son now in charge.

Chapter One

HOPEFUL

Colorado

1875

ABIGAIL

I busied myself making a fresh pot of coffee to serve the men who had just entered the Fork and Talk Diner.

The building was a two-story wooden structure with three thick wooden posts fixed at the outer edge of the wide boardwalk. A hitching rail enabled customers to tie up their mounts while they dined. The front door had a handsome brass handle and the window was secured by wooden shutters.

On the upper level, three doors opened onto a balcony which was made from floor boards. The railing was constructed from criss-cross patterned wood.

An iron shingle hung from the balcony. The diner name was in shiny yellow paint and surrounded by patterned scrolls.

The door opened onto a large square dining area; the kitchen was through a doorway off to the right. 

The dining area consisted of round tables with scroll backed wooden chairs. Whitewashed walls held charcoal drawings of gold miners, rather apt considering the town had grown from a minor gold rush.

One pictured a man crouched down, he appeared to be studying a pan for gold. Another depicted a man standing, pan hanging at his side. His eyes were fixed on the flowing river before him. The last had a man asleep on the ground, gold pan beside him. There was also a painting of Ulysses S. Grant, the President of the United States.

Floors throughout were scuffed, due to the many boot wearing customers, mama and me.

In the kitchen stood mama’s pride and joy – a large cast iron, coal fired cooker with two ovens. I adored the lion paw legs which added to its character. The top was a single piece of flat metal and the level of heat directed at pots and pans was dependant on where they were placed. The left side emitted the lowest heat - right side the highest.

There was no shortage of counter tops in both wood and metal. Two metal sinks, copper pots and pans hung on hooks from the ceiling. 

The diner was owned by mama and for the past six years, I had been her only employee. The place demanded long hours every day of the week and often left us exhausted, but neither of us would have done anything else.

Mama had inherited the establishment from her Uncle Tobias who had built it the year the town had been founded. We had run it together ever since he’d passed. Ownership was timely, coming shortly after papa was killed by a runaway wagon.

He’d been crossing the street from the saloon when, according to witnesses, he’d turned to see four horses thundering toward him. He’d been imbibing heavily, didn’t have his wits about him and failed to jump out of the way before he was hit. He hadn’t died instantly and the following few days with him clinging to life had caused a great deal of grief for mama.

Although we were now comfortable, thanks to the diner, our family had struggled when papa was alive. Most people in town whispered behind our backs that he’d always been a good for nuthin’ who spent too much time in the saloon and drank far too much. They also muttered; Bess deserved better. Regardless of what was said, mama and I had both loved him dearly.

Papa had sought work only when the inkling took him, it was mama who’d kept clothes on our backs and food on the table by working long hours at the diner for Uncle Tobias. Her uncle had rewarded her for her loyalty to him and willed her the property when he was taken by consumption.

Mama and I had stepped up and became responsible for keeping the diner going while he’d struggled to get well. After three years, doctors had said there was no more to be done and he was taken in the middle of the night. It was two weeks after papa was killed.

It made sense Uncle Tobias had left it to his niece instead of his only daughter who was the same age as mama but had never worked a day in her whole life. She’d married a wealthy businessman and while he was said to work hard, she enjoyed the fruits of his labor by visiting exotic countries overseas – alone!

After mama took ownership, we’d experimented with expanding the menu and now sold baked goods. They sold faster than we could produce them, no matter how many we made. Many a customer would grumble when they came in late afternoon to partake of their favorite slice of peach, apple and blueberry pie, smothered in lashings of freshly churned cream, only to find we’d sold out. Their grumpy demeanor was not improved when I informed them they needed to come into the diner earlier if they expected to be served one of the tasty treats.

Our days were long – we began baking around four in the morning and our door remained open until after supper had been served. We would usually lock up around seven in the evenings, and after partaking of our own supper, drag our weary bodies upstairs to where we resided, wash up and collapse in bed – exhausted.

I would usually read for an hour or so, allowing the words on the pages to carry me too far off exotic lands. There was also a handsome hero and romance involved. I ached for a man to enter my life and sweep me off my feet like the heroines in the books.

Unfortunately, while the heroines were small, petite ladies with impeccably coiffed blonde hair and sparkling blue eyes, I was tall, gangly, had non-descript amber eyes and a head full of wild black curls.

While they wore elegant gowns in the latest fashions and white button up boots on their delicate feet, I wore off the rack plain brown skirts. They barely reached to my ankles, exposing manly black boots on my large feet. The skirts were paired with white shirts – usually men’s because it was difficult to find ladies shirts which would fit my larger size and long arms. Over the top was the seemingly ever-present white apron.

Our routine didn’t change during the week and on Saturdays, so I had no opportunity to be courted by a man. Not that any man was interested in me, preferring instead, smaller more delicate ladies.

On Sundays, the Sabbath, I would don one of the two floral dresses I owned, along with my work boots and attend church. This was where I caught up with my best friend, Rowan who was currently stepping out with the banker’s son – Mark. I say currently because it seemed Rowan had a different beau every month.

Following the sermon, there was never time to partake in an offered cup of tea or chat. We needed to ensure the diner was ready and open in time for the midday meal. There was always a large crowd who would drop in after church.

I jumped when mama came up beside me and spoke.

That coffee has been ready for near on ten minutes, Abigail. Long enough for me to fry up the boy’s steaks, boil potatoes, warm biscuits and prepare the gravy. I swear you disappear into dreamland every time those four boys step through the door. I’m convinced you’re sweet on one of them, I just haven’t figured out which one.

Mama, I hissed, before glancing at the men’s table to see if they’d heard what mama had said.

Mama laughed as she squeezed past me with two plates of food in her hands.

Why don’t you ask him if he’d like to visit with you some time?

When would that time be, mama? I’m here working every waking hour.

Mama’s expression reflected the hurt I’d inflicted on her with my words and I felt remorseful as she stepped away to serve the men their meals.

I set about placing the coffee pot, four mugs, cream, sugar and stirring spoons onto a tray.

When mama returned to collect the remaining two plates, I laid a hand on her arm.

I’m sorry, mama. I didn’t mean to be curt with you.

She patted my hand. I know darlin’. Serve the boys their coffee while I set out the other meals. When you’re done, come through to the kitchen. There’s no one who needs to be served and it’s close to closing, so I doubt there will be anyone else tonight. I want to discuss something with you while we wash up the dishes.

Discuss what?

I’ll tell you when we’re out of hearing range of the customers.

I was puzzled, intrigued, but rather than question her further, I headed to where the men sat. They were deep in conversation.

~*~

I swallowed around the large lump in my throat which always seemed to appear any time Maxwell Long was nearby.

I had known Max for years. He was the eldest of three children at age twenty-seven. He was a good eight inches taller than me and actually made me feel petite when I stood alongside him. He had jet black hair and beautiful ice blue eyes. A huge dimple in his left cheek, which was always visible, became even more prominent when he smiled. The sight sent tingles racing up and down my spine. I liked Max – a lot but he didn’t know I existed. Not like that, anyway.

Rowan was his sister and twenty-two, the same age as me. She was tiny but had the same black hair and ice blue eyes as her brothers.

Edward was the youngest brother at age nineteen and he was almost as tall as his brother. He’d gone off to college and was studying medicine.

Max and his sister lived at their parent’s ranch - Mykita. It was around a mile from town at the base of the mountain which Hopeful was situated on.

The ranch had a rather colorful history and had been worked long before the town of Hopeful had been founded in 1858. It had previously been owned by William Long – Mr. Long’s father. He’d been a notorious gambler who’d won the spread in a card game in 1831. Gossip around town insisted he’d had a secret gold cache because he never did a day’s work in his life. Mr. Long dismissed the rumors saying if the gold did exist, he had no idea where it was. He was more inclined to believe his father was a fortunate gambler and the winnings were the source of his income.

The Long family, with Max as manager, ran hundreds of head of cattle, were very successful, well respected in town, close-knit, happy and wealthy.

Since working at the diner, my friendship with Rowan had endured. She understood the need for me to support mama but being unable to spend any real amount of time with her, I knew it was only a matter of time before we drifted apart. The reality made me sad.

I rested the tray I’d been carrying on the side of the table close to where Max sat digging into his meal. I placed the contents of the tray onto the table before lowering it to the floor beside me. I poured a healthy amount of hot coffee into each mug and set one in front of each man.

Max and his three friends – Cody Bishop, Dalton Carmichael and Wyatt Singer were weekly visitors to the diner. They had supper before crossing to the saloon where they spent their Saturday evenings. They would be entertained by dancing girls, take part in card games and I guessed they would imbibe in the demon alcohol. I hoped none of them succumbed to the lure of the deadly liquid as my papa had.

A twinge of jealousy burned through me when I pictured Max with one of the dancers. I’d heard rumors around town that he was sweet on Mildred Sims and why shouldn’t he be? The woman was his age, stunningly beautiful and had an hourglass figure which I suspected was natural and not the result of a corset.

Is that all? I asked quietly after retrieving the tray and holding it in one hand, coffee pot in the other.

Max turned his gorgeous eyes on me. My heart thumped against my ribs while my belly flip flopped.

Rowan asked me to tell you that she won’t be at church tomorrow. She’ll see you next week.

Why won’t she be there? I was alarmed by the thought something could be wrong.

She dismounted Ranger awkwardly and twisted her ankle. Doc said nothing is broken. He’s bandaged it and told her to stay off it until the swelling goes down.

Oh. Please tell her I’m sorry, I hope she feels better soon and I look forward to seeing her next week.

Max nodded but continued staring at me.

Something else?

"Why don’t you ever take time off to have fun? Start stepping out, I’m sure there are a few men who would love to have you on their arm. Most gals the same age as you and Rowan are married with children. I keep telling her she needs to settle down, get married