Donovan's Bed: The Calhoun Sisters, Book 1 (9 page)

She felt her throat close up and willed away the painful memories. Donovan was in danger. There were three of them, and though Donovan himself was a tall man, the Beaumont brothers all topped him by at least three or four inches and outweighed him by fifty pounds. She had no doubt that one-on-one, he could handle himself. But three-to-one odds stretched the limits of any man’s ability.

She had to help him.

Her mind whirled as she hurried to the wall and lifted down the rifle. She hated guns. Hated the coldness of the metal that felt like death in her hands.

But angry as she was at Donovan for his arrogance, and at herself for responding to his kiss, she couldn’t let the man die.

She walked to the door and opened it. The Beaumonts had made it as far as Doc Mercer’s, and they were obviously bringing Donovan to the church.

Her hands were steady as she checked to be sure the weapon was still loaded. But her mind screamed in protest. She
hated
guns. A gun had killed her father. And she had sworn that day, bent over her father’s body with his blood staining her hands, that she would never again love a man who lived by the gun. The thrill of danger that lured such a man exacted too great a cost on those around him.

She raised the rifle and sighted down the barrel, aiming at one of the Beaumont’s gun hands. She would not kill a man, but she would darned well slow him down.
 

“Boss!” Waving, Amos hurried past.

Sarah lowered the rifle.

“Boss, wait!” Matt was hot on Amos’s heels.

“Bessie!” A wiry young man with a prominent Adam’s apple hurried after both of them.

Sarah blinked in surprise. What was Homer Beasty doing here?

Bessie stopped and whirled, staring at the young man. “Homer?”

“Bessie.” Homer stopped and took her hands in his. “Bessie, say it isn’t so. Tell me you’re not going to marry this…this…”

“Am so.” Bessie sniffed and gave Homer a look. “A girl’s got to get a husband any way she can.”

“Well, I won’t have it!” Homer stood straight as a fence post and glared at Donovan. “I love you, Bessie, and I’ll fight for you if I have to.”

“Oh, Homer.” Bessie sighed, obviously undone by his declaration.

“You.” Homer pointed a thin finger at Donovan. “Defend yourself!”

He rushed his rival. Sarah waited, expecting Donovan to win the skirmish with little effort. Instead, Homer got him on the chin with a left hook that sent Donovan sprawling.

“Homer!” Eyes wide with admiration, Bessie hurried to the young man’s side and attached herself to his elbow. “My goodness, I never realized how strong you are!”

“A man’s got to protect what’s his. And I’ve loved you so long that I think of you as my girl.” Homer glanced at the fallen Donovan, then turned his earnest expression on his lady love. “Bessie, my darling, will you marry me?”

“Oh, yes!” Bessie all but smothered the young man as she flung her arms around him. “Yes, I’ll marry you, Homer Beasty!”

“Then let’s do it right now. I’m not taking any chances of losing you.” Homer led Bessie toward the church, her brothers trailing along behind with confused looks on their faces.

Donovan sat up and rubbed his jaw. Locating his hat, he grabbed it and got to his feet.

“Why’d you let him deck you?” Matt asked. “Why, you coulda laid him flat without breakin’ a sweat.”

Donovan grinned. “But then I’d be on the way to the church with Bessie Beaumont.”

Amos chuckled. “Pretty smart fella, ain’t ya?”

Matt shook his head and chuckled as he finally got the joke. “Better than a shootout, anyway.”

“My thinking exactly, Matt. I’m lucky he showed up when he did.”

“Pshaw, that weren’t no luck,” Amos snorted. “I knew Homer was sweet on Bessie. Fact was, everyone expected them to marry up afore now, but Homer never got up the gumption to ask.”

“Amos and I rode out to get him,” Matt said with a grin. “We figured you could use the help.”

“I’m obliged to you both.” Donovan looked past the two men to the
Chronicle
building. The rifle seemed suddenly heavy in Sarah’s hands as their eyes met and held. Then he placed his hat on his head and looked at his companions. “Whiskey all around, I’d say. And Amos, I figure I owe you another four bits.”

“Yeeehaw!” Amos did a little jig as the three men turned toward the saloon.

Sarah watched them go. He knew, blast him. He knew that she would have helped him. She closed the door and went to hang the rifle back on the wall.

It made her crazy, the way that man could see right into her soul.

With a little sigh, she turned to her only trustworthy companion these days. Her printing press.

Chapter Six

“Mama, I wish you would stop this.”

“But that blue dimity would look
lovely
on you, Sarah.”

“Mama, we’ve talked about this before.”

June Calhoun sighed. “I don’t know why you do this. You’ll never catch a husband dressing like a spinster.”

Having heard this particular lecture many a time, Sarah pressed her lips together and increased her pace. The church was coming into view, and the crowd milling around outside indicated that the town meeting had yet to begin.
 

“Sarah Ann Calhoun, don’t you dare ignore me,” June said sternly, quickening her pace as well. “I just want to see you happy.”

“I am happy, Mama.” She tossed a quick smile at her mother, despite her annoyance. “I have you, and I have the paper. I don’t need anything else.”

“The newspaper was your father’s dream, not yours.” June shook her head. “I remember how you used to daydream about getting married. You would even make up names for your children. You wanted a dozen, I believe.”

“Things change.”

Her mother continued as if she hadn’t heard, her voice soft with nostalgia. “Remember that wedding ring quilt? You worked so hard on it. I think it’s still in your hope chest in the closet. You swore you were going to lay it over your marriage bed on the night of your wedding.”

As her mother kept talking, Sarah’s mind wandered to that quilt. She had worked on it with all the enthusiasm of the young girl she had been, bedazzled by dreams of happily-ever-after. She remembered laying it in her hope chest, imagining the night when she would present it to her new husband as a wedding gift.

That night would never come now.

“Sarah, are you listening to me?”

“Yes, Mama. Look, we’re here.” She said a silent prayer of thanks as Honoria Westerly, the reverend’s wife, called out to them.

“June! Sarah! Over here!”

“Good evening, Honoria.” Sarah’s mother smiled as she greeted her closest friend.

“Evening, Mrs. Westerly,” Sarah said politely.

“Marianne is over there with Lorinda Baines, Sarah,” Honoria said. “I’d appreciate it if you could keep her distracted while I talk to your mother about making her a new dress for her birthday.”

“Certainly, Mrs. Westerly.” Sarah had barely turned away before Honoria launched into the details of the gown she wanted her mother to create.

Sarah wandered toward the group of young women gathered near a buckboard wagon. Pieces of conversations drifted to her as she made her way through the crowd. Ellie Pearson, heavy with child, deep in conversation with Doc Mercer and his wife. The rumble of male laughter and good-natured ribbing coming from the cattlemen who lingered on the stairs of the church. The widow O’Brien calling after her young son Kevin as he chased the Tillis boys through the crowd. As she approached her destination, giggles and girlish voices rose above all else. Marianne Westerly spotted her and waved her over.

As Sarah moved beside Marianne, she heard Lorinda Baines expounding on the secrets of married life. Only two weeks ago, Lorinda had married Ethan Baines, a local horse rancher. Now the unmarried ladies, including Emmaline and Juliana Tremont, listened with rapt fascination as Lorinda revealed things only hinted at by their mothers.

“Well, Ethan is the most wonderful man,” Lorinda said. “He’s very gentle and he treats me like a china doll.”

“I hope my husband is like that.” Marianne sighed.

“I should hope that he’s gentle!” Emmaline sniffed. “A man should act the gentleman with his wife at all times.”

“Well, not at
all
times,” Lorinda responded with a sly smile.

A burst of giggles followed her statement. Sarah looked down at her folded hands. Out of all the women there, she alone knew exactly what Lorinda Baines meant. While a woman wanted a husband to treat her with care and respect, there were times, such as the marriage bed, where a rogue was more desirable than a gentleman. A tendril of longing twined around her heart, and she suppressed it, refusing to submit to the shameless hunger that plagued her almost constantly now.

“I can’t
wait
to get married,” Marianne whispered with excitement. “I do so want to know what
it
is all about. Mama refuses to discuss the matter.”

“I should hope not,” Emmaline said. “Such things are inappropriate for a young girl’s ears.”

“You just say that because you don’t know yourself, Emmaline,” Lorinda teased. More giggles erupted as Emmaline flushed a bright red.

“The marriage bed is sacred and should not be whispered about in such a manner,” Emmaline snapped.

“Speaking of beds,” Juliana said with a glance at Sarah, “I wonder if Jack Donovan will be coming to the meeting tonight.”

“Oh, isn’t he the handsomest man!” Marianne exclaimed. “And he actually
wants
to get married. Not like some men around here.”

“I hear he’s the richest man in town. Gold mines,” Lorinda added sagely.

“I heard he used to be an outlaw,” Marianne contributed with excitement. “But he seems like such a nice man.”

“And that bed.” Juliana fanned herself. “Goodness, just the thought of it makes me all trembly.”

“Juliana!” Emmaline chided. “A lady does not speak of such things.”

“Oh, Emmaline.” Juliana dismissed her sister and looked at Sarah. “What do you think, Sarah? After all, you’ve seen more of that bed than anyone.”

The insinuation was unmistakable. Marianne and Lorinda gaped, and Emmaline placed a hand to her bosom. Juliana just watched Sarah, a malicious glitter in her eyes.

Sarah felt the heat creep into her cheeks. “In the course of business, yes, I did get a good look at it. And it’s beautiful. I can’t wait to see who he marries.”

“Neither can I.” Juliana stared at Sarah.

Sarah met her gaze, then looked at the other women. “If you ladies will excuse me, I believe the meeting is starting.” She walked away with her head held high.

“Well, we know who Jack Donovan
isn’t
going to be marrying,” Juliana said, loud enough for Sarah to hear. Furious whispers followed her words.

“Sarah.” Marianne hurried up to her and fell into pace when she didn’t slow. “Don’t let Juliana get to you. She never has a kind word for anyone.” She smiled.

The preacher’s daughter was a beautiful brunette with soft gray eyes and a roses and cream complexion. She was sweet and compassionate, and purity shone from her gentle smile like a light from heaven.

Sarah had once known such innocence. Now, after all that had happened, she felt tarnished next to Marianne’s sterling virtue.

“Don’t worry about it,” she said. “I’m going to fetch Mama so we can get a good seat.”

“If you’re sure you’re all right.” Marianne’s flawless brow crinkled with concern.

“I’m positive.” Sarah squeezed Marianne’s arm in reassurance. Marianne Westerly was the one woman in town that Sarah could honestly call a friend.
 

“All right then. I’ll stop by sometime this week, and we can have a nice long visit.”

“You do that.”

The other woman smiled and hurried back to her group. Sarah sighed as she watched her go, feeling old beyond her years. Marianne Westerly was everything she herself had once been. Marianne loved to cook and sew and longed for the day when she would bear children. She would make some man a wonderful wife.

Donovan should probably propose to
her
.

Sarah's mouth trembled as tears threatened unexpectedly, and she pressed her lips together. Ruthlessly, she repressed the long-forgotten dreams of husband and family. That would never happen for her. She would be alone until she died. And that was the way things were.

“Yoohoo! Sarah, over here!”
 

She spotted her mother standing near the church steps with one of the ranchers and waving for Sarah to join them. June’s never-ending campaign to match make for her daughter was born out of love, if futile. Resigned, she slowly made her way over.

June took her arm as soon as she was within reach and tugged her closer. “Look who stopped to say hello, Sarah.”

Sarah smiled politely. “Hello, Mr. Turner.”

Ross Turner took off his hat, revealing light brown hair threaded with silver. His dark eyes were warm as he said, “Good evening, Sarah. I was hoping to see you tonight.”