Zooey Pinkerton- a Daughter's Right Read online

  Zooey Pinkerton: A Daughter’s Right

  Heather McAlendin

  Evolutionary Publishing Presents

  Zooey Pinkerton: A Daughter’s Right

  by Heather McAlendin

  Copyright © 2014 Heather McAlendin

  ISBN: 978-1-927479-74-2

  Smashwords Edition

  One

  Pinkerton Ranch was a sprawling mass of contradictions. The land ranged from lush grassy fields to jagged, rocky outcroppings that would threaten the life of any man or beast that didn't have respect for what the land could do. What had started out as a small, family homestead by immigrant rancher Andrew Pinkerton, was now a thriving cattle and horse ranch that employed up to twenty-five ranch hands and wranglers.

  Through conscientious breeding, the Pinkerton Palomino’s were sought out for stud services all over the settled Western United States.

  A large man, with rugged features; a constant five o'clock shadow and calloused hands, Andrew Pinkerton could often be found riding among his wranglers and helping the ranch hands with any job, big or small. Andrew loved being in the middle of all the action. He was a hands on owner who believed in working hard and working smart. He paid his employees well and was known for being a bit of a tough taskmaster - but in the end, money talked. As a result, staff turnover was kept to a minimum.

  Running the Pinkerton Ranch was no picnic. While Andrew worked hard, he had a penitent for playing harder and loved to drink and gamble. At times his excessive gambling caused him to lose large amounts of money. Money that he would borrow from the loan sharks in town…but he always managed to pay back.

  When his wife died in childbirth, eighteen years earlier, a piece of Andrew's soul died with her. From that moment onward, he had to raise their child on his own. Although he did the best he could, it was not the same for a man in the Wild West to raise a daughter without much female influence. Begrudging the fact that he had no sons, Andrew raised his daughter to be faster, stronger and smarter than any of his male employees. He taught her to shoot a rifle and lasso a calf and how to break and ride horses with the best of them. Andrew raised his daughter, Zooey to be the son he knew he would never have.

  He stood out and stared at the newest lot of foals. He was mesmerized watching them at play, nipping and running as carefree as the wind. He pulled his hat down over his eyes and wiped imaginary dirt off his shirt with a large, calloused hand. “If only we could all be so free. Life is never free. We all have to pay our debts.” He sighed heavily and turned toward the main house.

  “Pops! Hey Pops, wait up!”

  Andrew looked up to see Zooey walking with her favourite Chocolate Palomino, Gypsy. Zooey’s blue eyes were bright, and her pale, freckled cheeks were flushed from a late afternoon ride. Her reddish blonde hair was dishevelled and her jeans and boots were covered in mud.

  “Hey there Sparky. How was the ride?”

  Andrew had given Zooey the nickname Sparky when she was two years old. She had her mother's fire for life…and Sparky had been her nickname from that moment onward.

  “Great! Gyspy and I crossed the creek. Hope it rains soon. Not much but mud and dust out there.”

  “You may get your wish,” Andrew said as he pointed to the sky. “Looks like some storm clouds are brewing.”

  Zooey shielded her eyes from the sun and grinned as she searched the darkening, afternoon sky. “Fantastic! I'll put Gypsy away. Is dinner ready?”

  Andrew sniffed the air and nodded. “Smells like it. Hurry back. It won’t be my fault if the hands eat all the cheese biscuits Marta baked today!”

  “Be right back Pops!”

  Andrew smiled as he watched his daughter walk away. He was proud of how she was turning out and hoped her mother would have been as well. Although he knew that his deceased wife would never have chosen the blue jeans and flannels Zooey wore; she would have preferred a dress with a long skirt and lace bodice. But Zooey was bright, tough, and always had a smile on her face. She went out of her way to learn how the ranch was run and lent a hand whenever she could. Andrew had high hopes that one day she'd be tough enough to take it over.

  “I reckon she will be too,” he whispered. “I hope.”

  Fat, cold drops of rain began falling from the sky as Andrew reached the main house. He turned back to see Zooey running toward him, hollering with joy. He smiled broadly as he held the door open for her.

  “Crazy nut! You are soaked through. Go change for dinner.”

  “Yes Pops! Yes sir!” Zooey answered with a smirk. She always loved to joke and tease her father. “Don't start without me.”

  “Can't guarantee that. A hungry man has to eat!” Andrew shouted as his daughter scurried down the hall to her room. She waved a hand and disappeared into the bedroom with a giggle.

  Andrew walked into the kitchen and let the tiny, dark haired cook Marta, know that he'd be in the dining room waiting for Zooey.

  “Yes sir, Mr. Pinkerton. I made her favourite today; rabbit stew with turnips and potatoes.”

  “Oh, she'll love that Marta. No doubt I'll enjoy it too. It smells fantastic in here!”

  The older woman blushed and smiled. Marta had started out helping Andrew's wife while she was pregnant. She had become invaluable to the care and raising of Zooey after Sarah Pinkerton's passing. Marta had no children of her own and stayed on with the Pinkerton's long after she should have retired. At well over sixty, she loved the energy at the ranch. She also loved taking care of the people she considered to be her family.

  A loud crack of thunder jolted Marta from her happy thoughts. She crossed herself, hoping the storm would only bring the rain. The last time a thunderstorm passed through, a lightening bolt had set fire to one of the feed buildings. It had taken months to rebuild. Marta wanted for the best for her family. She was a Christian woman and prayed nightly for the happiness of Andrew and Zooey.

  “Hurry Zooey or your father will have eaten all of the food I made!” Marta called out, teasing the young woman. She smiled to herself and hummed a tune. Everything was as it should be.

  Two

  Zooey was towelling off her hair when she heard Marta call out to her. “Be right there!” She called back. Quickly peeling off her wet jeans and shirt she stared into the tarnished, oval mirror her father had hung just above the dresser. The mirror had belonged to her mother. It helped Zooey feel connected to her. Now, that mirror and a copy of her parents wedding photo were the only things left that kept Sarah Pinkerton's memory alive. She studied the picture. Zooey could tell from the smiles on their faces that they were madly in love on their wedding day. There was a spray of freckles across her mother nose and the same unruly, red curls that Zooey had. It made her smile.

  “Wish you could see me now Ma. Wish you could be here to help Pops. I worry about him.” A tear trickled down her cheek as Zooey's hand lovingly touched the wedding photo that stood framed on her dresser. She was well aware of her father's peccadilloes and wanted to talk to him about his gambling and drinking. At eighteen she felt she was old enough for them to have an adult conversation. At her age, she was just thankful he wasn't trying to marry her off to the first wealthy rancher or bachelor friend he had.

  After wiping away the tears, Zooey pulled on a fresh pair of jeans, a white undershirt, and a red flannel shirt. “So much for me looking like a girl huh, Ma?” Zooey wiped the mud from her boots and pulled them back over her slender feet and calves.

  A loud crack of thunder startled her - and a loud, blood-curdling scream shot a surge of ice through her belly. Zooey stood very still and listened for any further sound. Loud, male voices echoed through the hallway and into her room. She grabbed the Colt rev
olver from under her pillow and tucked in into the waistband of her jeans.

  Zooey edged her way to the bedroom door and opened it slowly.

  “You've had more than enough time, Pinkerton. You knew about the consequences! My boss has lost all patience with you!”

  “Come on now. I've been good for it in the past, Tom.”

  “It's more money this time around. You signed the agreement and now I'm here to collect. Collection is past due!”

  Zooey carefully looked around the bedroom door. She could see the back of a very large man, dressed in a full-length oilskin and hat. He had a Remington in his right hand. She couldn't see her father but could hear him pleading for more time.

  A shiver went through Zooey's body as she listened to Tom threaten her father. She knew she shouldn’t be rash but it was taking every ounce of self control not to jump out and shoot the man from behind.

  “I was drunk when I signed that paperwork! It won't hold up in any court of law.”

  A low rumbling laugh greeted Andrew's remark. “And why do I care about the law, Pinkerton? The boss has been fair up ‘til now but the stakes are too high. You put up the ranch as collateral. Now you can't pay the debt. I'm here to foreclose on this property…and I’ll kill you to close the deal if I’ve gotta.”

  Pops put up the ranch? The thought of losing the ranch was more than Zooey could bear. She took a deep breath, held the Colt in her hand, and stepped into the hall.

  “What the hell is going on here?” Zooey's knees shook as she spoke. Everything seemed to move in slow motion.

  “Zooey, put down the gun and go back in your room. This doesn't concern you!” A nervous sweat gleamed on Andrew’s brow. He didn’t want her to see there or become involved in his mistakes.

  “If it's about the ranch Pops, it certainly does concern me. Now what is going on?”

  “Well, well. Look at this. Brave little thing aren’t you? I don't think we’ve been formally introduced. And before you think of using that weapon young lady, take a look to the left.” Tom eyed Zooey up and down and licked his lips.

  Zooey looked past the tall stranger and caught a glimpse of another large, dirty looking man training a rifle on Marta and her father. A moan of fear escaped her throat as she clutched her pistol tighter.

  “That's right. You could shoot me but then both your father and this lovely lady will be dead too. Now what would that accomplish?”

  Zooey looked Tom square in the face and nodded. She knew he was right but her gut twisted in defeat. She slowly put the gun down to her side.

  “Now put the pistol on the floor and kick it over to me. I can see you are a smart little thing. Let's get rid of this nasty gun and you and I can talk.”

  “You and I have nothing to talk about. It's my father that I need to talk to.” Zooey hissed as she kicked the weapon down the hall. Once the gun was headed in Tom's direction she stood up and squared her shoulders. She refused to let him think she was afraid – even though her insides were shaking.

  “Good girl. I’m sure your father has a lot to explain but he and I have some business to finish. So head back into your room. When he and I are done, you and I can spend some time chatting.”

  From the way the man looked at her, Zooey knew what he wanted and she had no intention of giving it to him. Just the thought of his large grimy hands on her skin made her flesh crawl. She gulped and took a deep breath before pasting on a smile. “What's your name? If you want to “chat” later I'd like to know who you are.”

  Tom smiled and nodded. “See, I knew you were a bright little thing. My name is Tom, Tom Brennan.” He bowed low at the waist in mock sincerity and winked at Zooey. “I am sure we will become better acquainted later.”

  “Brennan! If you so much as touch a hair on that girl's head...”

  Tom turned away from Zooey to face Andrew. “You have no say in anything anyone does right now, Pinkerton. Your daughter is smarter than you are. At least she knows her place.”

  The slam of Zooey's bedroom door caused Andrew to flinch. Hot tears of disappointment beaded in the corner of his eyes. He had let his daughter down and that hurt more than anything else.

  Tom walked up to Andrew and poked the rifle into his chest. Marta cringed and closed her eyes. “It's obvious you can't pay back the money, Pinkerton. So, the ranch belongs to the boss.” Tom Brennan leaned in low and growled into Andrews’s ear. “And your sweet little daughter belongs to me. I'll take care of her, don't you worry.”

  Andrew spat in Tom's face before he lurched with both hands, trying to grab the larger man's neck. It was a fatal mistake. The rifle pressed to his chest went off. A second later, the other man fired as well, hitting him in the neck. A surprised look crossed Andrew's face as he desperately clutched his neck. A thick, gurgling sound left his lips as he collapsed to the floor in a widening pool of blood. Marta fell along side him, fainting in fear.

  “Idiot! Leave the woman. She’s of no use to us outside the kitchen. Let the men in while I fetch the girl. We have a ranch to hand over to the boss.”

  The dirty accomplice smiled and nodded. He kicked Andrew in the side and walked away.

  Tom drew his shoulders back and smiled. He was looking forward to taming Andrew's feisty little daughter. His boots clicked loudly on the floor as he marched toward Zooey's bedroom door. He imagined her cowering in the corner or crying in a heap of grief on her bed. Well, I'll just have to comfort the poor girl, now won't I?

  As Tom threw open the door, his thoughts quickly changed from lust to rage. The small bedroom window along the back wall was broken and the rain had poured in, leaving a large puddle on the floor. Zooey was gone.

  “Damn you, you little brat!” He thundered as he turned on his heel. “The girl will have to wait,” he muttered. “but God help her when I find her.”

  Three

  Zooey was soaked through by the time she got to Gypsy’s stable. Her heart beat wildly as she saddled the Palomino. The last thing she heard before breaking the window were two gunshots. She didn't need to see the end result to know she had to escape as quickly as possible.

  So far, none of Tom's henchmen had ventured out to the stables. Zooey grabbed an old oilskin jacket from the wall and a hat from the floor, and quickly mounted Gyspy. With a thrust from her heel she guided the horse out into the storm and toward town. I have to get to the sheriff’s office. Zooey's thoughts were scattered as she took the narrow path into town. It was a few hours ride but she had no choice. Zooey didn’t want anyone else to die - and she knew she had to avenge her father's death and try to save the ranch. Pops how could you let this happen? Her thoughts were angry as she finally let her hot tears mix with the rain.

  Zooey allowed herself one last look behind her before charging forward into the night. Anger burned deep in her heart as she tried to make sense of everything that had happened. She knew her father's gambling was trouble but she still couldn’t fathom how he could have been so careless. To lose the ranch to the likes of Tom Brennan and his thugs? And who is this “Boss?” she wondered.

  “You always paid your debts, Pops. I don't understand why it got to this,” Zooey moaned. Any sound she made was lost among the rain, wind, and thunder. In front of her, Gypsy was getting agitated. Zooey moved low and patted her rain slicked side. “Not much longer. Good girl. We just have to get into town okay?”

  The horse made a comforting noise as they trotted ahead. Soon, the rain subsided. The air was cool and fresh, but it did little to buoy Zooey's spirits until she saw the lights at the edge of town. “Finally!”

  She encouraged Gypsy to speed up until they reached the fork that lead to the town centre. The road was quiet with little noise, save for some piano music from Charlie's Saloon. Zooey walked Gypsy past the Saloon and toward the small Sheriff’s office and jail. There was a lantern lit in the window. “Thank goodness Josh is there,” Zooey sighed as she tied Gypsy to the post outside the door. The stairs creaked as she walked to the front door. Zooey didn't
have to knock. Just as she raised her hand to the door, a tall, lean man with dark eyes and hair opened the door. He was dressed in black with a gold star pinned to his leather vest. Most would have considered him handsome but he wore a perpetual scowl on his face. Even though Zooey had known Joshua Duncan for many years, he was just the Sheriff to her.

  “Zooey what the hell are you up too at this late hour? Is your father drunk in the Saloon again?”

  “Pops is dead, Josh.”

  Sheriff Duncan stood there for a moment. “I...what? Andrew's dead? Zooey, you better get inside. I'll get someone to take care of the horse.”

  Zooey nodded dumbly and followed him into the building. He helped her off with her coat and poured a cup of strong, black coffee. Joshua had known Zooey and her father since the day Zooey was born. Back then, he was nothing more than an errand boy at the ranch. Eighteen years later - and ten years after the murder of his mother and the disappearance of his father - he had become Sheriff.

  “Was it an accident?” Joshua was a hard man, but even he could tell he had to tread lightly.

  “It was no accident, Josh. Pops was shot by a man called Tom Brennan.”

  Joshua raised an eyebrow. “Tom Brennan? How did your father get mixed up with that outlaw? There's a bounty on that man's head! Nobody can even seem to track him down long enough to capture him!”

  Zooey's hands shook as she raised the cup to her mouth and sipped the strong coffee. It burned her throat, but she appreciated the warmth after her ride in the rain.

  “Apparently Pops lost the ranch to Brennan’s boss because of a gambling debt. How could Pop's be so stupid Josh? How?” Zooey collapsed in a heap of tears on Joshua's desk. He could do nothing but pat her hand. Every nerve in his body told him to rush out to the ranch and try and capture Tom Brennan on his own. At this hour, though, it was likely he was gone or hiding again.