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"Send Her Quickly To Her Fate" is a project looking at the lives, crimes, trials and ultimately the deaths of the 27 women who were executed by Britain between and , including the ten former female camp guards who were hung for war crimes following the end of World War II.
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His eyes never left Quinn. The outlaw looked at him with the coldest, deadest eyes Quinn had ever seen, as a low, menacing warning was issued. It was three in the morning but the saloon was busier than ever. The Red Stallion Hotel and Saloon was her pride, the result of hard work and long hours, and now she was reaping the rewards of it.

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At twenty-six she was a self-made woman. She had come to Oregon and the town of Shaniko on her own. The rush of men to the region with hopes of making it rich in gold was what supported her in those early days. She was twenty-years-old with nothing but a few dollars, a small bag of clothes and her cooking utensils. She added to that a dream and tenacity.

She started cooking hot meals for the miners and set up a small outdoor restaurant. She parked the small wagon she had borrowed for the day near the mine. She then set out a table and a few chairs and rang the dinner bell. That first day twenty men came to dine at her makeshift mess hall, each paying a dollar for their meal. It wasn't long before others came to join them. Soon, she had nearly fifty men coming to fill their bellies on a daily basis. A frugal woman, with a mind for business—something she learned from her former employers—it wasn't long before she was able to buy the broken-down restaurant in town and turn it into what it was today.

He was a tall man, sturdily built, who liked his face neatly shaven and his whiskey on the rocks. He was single, had never been married, though he had proposed to her more than once when he was drunk. Most of the men in the saloon had. Zoe was a favorite amongst the men in town mostly, she suspected, because of all the ladies in the small town of Shaniko, she was the one with the most mystery.

Men liked to solve puzzles. She smiled at Lance and the large space between his front teeth as he grinned back at her. Clearly, the whiskey was going to his head, but she allowed him to take her hand. Zoe shook her head and laughed lightly as Liza approached her. It was his one failing.

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He loved his job and his drink a little too much for her tastes. Zoe nodded as she looked at Lance compassionately. Watered down by thirds. Zoe watched her, and made sure Liza did what she was instructed, before taking a stroll around the room. There was a small boarding house down the road, but that was mostly tailored to the mail-order brides that the new marriage board was bringing in by the coach-load.

Zoe couldn't imagine being one of them, coming to a strange place to be dependent on some man they had never met. It just didn't make sense to her and Zoe tried to do what was sensible. The hotel took up the entire top level of the two-story building. The bottom floor was the saloon, fully equipped with a bar on one side of the room and a small platform on the other, where a piano was set up.

Most nights Hank Flanders played to entertain the guests, but on special occasions, Tilly Swan would sing. She was a petite woman with a nightingale's voice. When she was singing there wasn't a seat or an empty glass to be found in the house.

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The main floor was covered with round tables, each with at least four chairs around it. Made it easy for a hand of poker that way, and everyone in town liked poker, except for Reverend Dean. It was the one at the end of the hall on the right, the one with the best view. She was heading in the opposite direction that night. Anxiety knotted her stomach as she did one more turn around the room, though she never looked it. A smile was permanently painted on her delicate features hiding all of her true feelings inside. It had been a while since Zoe had prepared a meal herself in the saloon.

Now she had two cooks who made her recipes to her specifications. He took the pot that was at the ready with hot water and poured some into one of the large basins from under the sink.

Weyland nodded and went back to work. He was the kind of man who minded his own business, even when it was going on right in front of him. She liked that about him. In many ways, he was just like her. Zoe protected her hands with a dishcloth as she took the basin out. She gave the room a cursory glance to make sure no one was watching.

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They weren't. She headed upstairs. Her heart was beating hard in her chest as she turned left at the top of the stair and approached the second last door. She stood outside it for a moment as she took several cleansing breaths to calm herself. Years had passed since she last saw him, but every once in a while, he entered her mind and she wondered what had become of him. Six years was a long time. Still, when he had arrived half an hour before, wounded and demanding her help, she had to oblige. Zoe hoped the storm would pass soon so he would leave.

A second later Zoe heard movement on the other side of the door before it opened a crack, and a large dark eye peered out at her. The door then swung open briefly to allow her in before it was immediately closed behind her. Zoe walked over to the small table in the corner and set the basin down. His shirt was bloody down the left arm, as was the front.


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She looked at him pitifully. How did you do this to yourself? His left arm was hanging limply at his side. Blood was dripping from the tips of his fingers. She sighed as she took his hand in hers. Sit in the chair. Victor did as he was told.


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