Donovan's Bed: The Calhoun Sisters, Book 1 (20 page)

She hadn’t dared let her disquiet show to Donovan, lest he take more measures than he already had to handle the situation. She couldn’t let him do that, not when she hadn’t made up her mind about marrying him yet. But terror clutched her with icy talons, making her want to rage and scream. Instead, she worked.

But even as her hands laid out the first page for Wednesday’s edition of the
Burr Chronicle
, her thoughts whirled in an emotional tornado. Luke Petrie. Dear God.

Her father’s murderer.

Her ex-lover.

What did Luke want? What was he doing here? She knew Luke had never loved her, though he had certainly wanted her. She had the feeling that his return to the area could only mean trouble. And even though she knew Donovan would protect her, even though he had men watching her house, she was still afraid. Luke Petrie was ruthless and would stop at nothing until he got what he wanted.

How had she ever believed herself in love with the man?

She laid down the type and folded her arms across her middle. Donovan was coming by the house at ten o’clock tomorrow morning to escort her to the Founder’s Day Festival. As long as she was with him and in a crowd, she would be safe. She had to believe that.

Yet Donovan was another reason to be nervous.

Her feelings for the man were strange and unpredictable, and unusually strong. She wanted to believe he was sincere in his desire to make her his wife, but she was wary of trusting him, of giving up something of herself that she might not be able to get back. Jack Donovan had the power to hurt her in ways Luke Petrie never had.

Could it possibly work? He had said he accepted her keeping the newspaper, but what if he changed his mind? What if she let herself love him, and he decided he preferred someone else, someone more suited to his original plans? Someone willing to make being Mrs. Jack Donovan the center of her existence? 
There was every chance she was already halfway in love with the man. She didn’t think she could handle one more turnabout from him.

The door to the office clicked open, and Sarah jumped. As if Luke Petrie would come strolling into the office in the middle of the day, she thought with a twist of her lips. Still, relief washed over her as a tall, statuesque woman turned to close the door. The stunning female was dressed in a fabulous cherry red gown with black trim that showed off her incredible figure to perfection, complete with bows and ruffles. Her silver blonde hair was upswept into fashionable curls, and a natty red hat with a long, curving, red feather completed the ensemble. Sarah stared, wondering what such a creature was doing in Burr.

“Hello? Is anyone here?” The woman turned to face her, and Sarah gasped. She knew those exotically slanted blue eyes, the slashing cheekbones, that bee-stung mouth, as well as she knew her own face.

“Susannah!”

“Sarah!” Her sister swept over to embrace Sarah in an exuberant hug. “Goodness, you’re covered with ink!”

“Part of the job.” Sarah stepped back and picked up a rag to wipe her hands, the scent of Susannah’s expensive perfume overwhelming the familiar odors of ink and paper. “What are you doing here? I thought you were breaking hearts in San Francisco.”

“I got bored.” Susannah gave her the sunny smile that had bedazzled males throughout the territory and took both Sarah’s hands in hers. “Besides, I missed this place. You and Mama. After Daddy died, I just couldn’t stay here.”

“I understand.”

“But Mama’s been sending me the newspaper every week,” Susannah continued. “And it just made me homesick, I guess. So here I am.”

“We’ve missed you. Have you seen Mama yet?”

“Heavens, no! I just got off the stage and came right here.” She glanced around the office. “It looks the same as when Daddy was alive. But different.” She smiled at Sarah again. “You’ve made the place your own, Sarah. I’m proud of you.”

Sarah swallowed back sudden tears. “Oh, Susannah, you don’t know how much that means to me. I’m so glad you’re here. And Mama’s going to be beside herself.”

“I can’t wait to see her.”

“Let’s go right now—I want to see her face.” Sarah went to the desk to fetch her reticule. “How long can you visit with us?”

“Visit?” Susannah laughed. “Little sister, I’m home to stay.”

“Really?” Sarah was surprised. “What about your singing career in California?”

“I’m done with all that,” Susannah announced with a wave of her hand. “I’ve discovered my true destiny, and I have you to thank for it.”

“Me?” Sarah opened the door and stood aside to let her sister pass. “I don’t understand.”

“Thanks to you and your newspaper, I know what I’m going to do with the rest of my life.” Susannah paused dramatically in the doorway and smiled down at Sarah. “I intend to become Mrs. Jack Donovan.”

She swept through the door, leaving Sarah gaping in her wake.

Susannah had come all the way from California to marry Jack? For a moment, Sarah battled a feeling of panic. Men acted like lovestruck fools when they met Suzie, and her sister had always gotten any man she wanted. Now she wanted Jack.

Many women dismissed Susannah as a pretty face without much substance, but Sarah knew her sister was warmhearted and capable of great love. And Mama had taught both of them how to cook, sew and run a house efficiently. The fact that Suzie bought her clothes from dressmakers and ate at restaurants had nothing to do with her wifely skills. A man would be lucky to have Susannah Calhoun as his wife.

“Sarah!” Suzie called impatiently. “ What are you waiting for?”

“I’m coming!” Sarah locked the office door, then hurried to catch up with her sister. Maybe she was being silly. After all, he had already proposed to
her
and Jack Donovan was a man who knew what he wanted. She just wished she knew what
she
wanted.

Heads turned as the two women walked down the street, but Sarah expected nothing less. Wherever Susannah went, she always attracted attention.

“You seem to be doing well for yourself,” Suzie said, smiling and nodding at two ranch hands who passed by.

“The paper is doing well,” Sarah corrected. “And you look gorgeous as always.”

A crash sounded behind them, and Sarah glanced back to see that the two men had erupted into a fistfight. Shouts of, “She smiled at me!” and “No, she was looking at me!” got lost in the clamor of fists hitting flesh and pain-induced grunts. Shaking her head, she hurried to keep step with Susannah, who hadn’t even noticed.

“How’s Mama?” Susannah asked as they passed the barbershop.

“She’s fine. She’s been busy with a lot of work since so many women have moved into the area.”

“I always found it convenient to have a mother who was a dressmaker,” Susannah said with a laugh.

“You would,” Sarah returned with a grin, unable to resist her sister’s charm.

As they walked by the clinic, a trapper paused in mounting his horse to stare goggle-eyed at Susannah. With his eyes on her, the buckskin-clad man lifted a leg and missed the stirrup, falling forward to whack his face against his horse. Sarah giggled and followed her sister around the corner toward home.

“It all looks the same,” Susannah said as they approached the Calhoun house. “Everything. I didn’t realize how much I had missed it until I came home.”

“We missed you,” Sarah said. “Especially Mama.”

“The house is the same…but the curtains are different. And there’s only one horse in the corral.”

“We had to sell one.”

“So many changes,” Susannah said with a sigh. She and Sarah had barely reached the porch stairs before the door flew open and June rushed out.

“Susannah!” Their mother ran down the steps and threw her arms wide to embrace her daughter.

“Mama.” Susannah closed her eyes and accepted her mother’s hug. “I’m home,” she whispered.

The sun hung low over the mountains, streaking brilliant shades of orange and pink across the sky. Donovan stood for a moment on the wraparound porch of his house and looked over the Triple D. His ranch. His outfit. Finally, his home.

The men had just come in from the range, and he could hear their laughter coming from the bunkhouse as they washed off the day’s grime at the outside pump. In about a half hour or so, Jasper Riggs, the cook, would have supper on the table.

Donovan had already eaten a plate of Jasper’s stew, though normally he ate at the bunkhouse with the men. It had taken a while, but the hands had finally become accustomed to the boss sitting at the table with them. But this evening he had something else do to.

He walked behind the house to a yard bare of anything but hard-packed dirt. He had always hoped that his wife would brighten up the house a bit—maybe plant a garden or set out some furniture. Watch the children as they chased butterflies. Hang the wash on the line. He couldn’t figure out why, but the idea of sheets drying in the sunshine when he came home from the range just made him feel warm all over.

Maybe Sarah would do some of that. And maybe he would have to hire a housekeeper. It didn’t matter, as long as he had his sassy girl lying beside him at night in that great big bed.

Sarah’s safety was constantly on his mind since the threat of Luke Petrie had arisen. The town council had sent out a posse or two to see if they could round up the escaped convict, but no one had seen hide nor hair of him. Donovan had thought about offering his services, but his priority was Sarah, and he felt better staying close to her in case Petrie tried something. And he
would
try something—Donovan could feel it.

He moved toward a corner of the yard and pulled his blade from the sheath in his arm. Picking a knot in the fence as his target, he hefted the knife, balanced it and threw, all in one smooth movement. The weapon sank into the fence—directly on target—with a solid thunk. A satisfied smile on his lips, he went over and pulled the knife from the wood, wiping the blade clean with his thumb. He had survived by his instincts for too many years to dismiss them now. Petrie would try to get Sarah.

And when he did, he would find that he had to get through Jack Donovan first.

Chapter Thirteen

The first Saturday in June was Founder’s Day, the anniversary of the day Josiah Burr had come down off the mountain looking for his lost cow and discovered gold instead. Of course, it had turned out to be fool’s gold, but by the time anyone had figured that out, the town had already started to build up. Burr might have been abandoned after that, but since it was so close to the Western trail used by the cattle drovers, the founding fathers decided to stay put.

Old Josiah had died years ago, but the citizens of Burr had taken up the tradition of throwing a Founder’s Day Festival every year to commemorate the establishment of their fair town. There were pie-eating contests, sack races, turtle races, more food than anyone could eat, competitions for who baked the tastiest pie and who raised the finest hog. There would be a parade in the morning, followed by a speech by the mayor, and later that night there would be dancing and fireworks.

Saturday dawned cloudless and sunny, promising a flawless afternoon. The citizens of Burr busied themselves with preparations for the festival, certain the day would be one to remember.

Cheered by the fine weather, Sarah gave in to uncharacteristic impulse and dressed in her pink and white Sunday finest. This would be her first foray into society on the arm of Jack Donovan, and she wanted to look her best. So she pulled out her new pink gingham and put up her hair and ignored her mother’s pleased smile. By ten o’clock, she was gowned and coiffed and ready for her suitor to arrive.

By eleven o’clock, she was still waiting.

Her mother and sister left for the festival, after trying without success to persuade Sarah to accompany them. Uncertain of her feelings for Donovan, and unwilling to get her mother’s hopes up, Sarah had said nothing about Donovan escorting her. Instead, she convinced them she had something to do at the newspaper office and that she would catch up with them. They reluctantly left without her.

By noontime, Donovan still had not arrived.

Jack Donovan was not a man who broke promises, so something must have happened to delay him. Maybe it was for the best, Sarah thought as she changed back into her plain brown skirt and white blouse. Perhaps this was a sign their relationship was not meant to be. Maybe she
was
the wrong woman after all.

Determined to ignore the pain that twisted her heart, she brushed and plaited her hair into a practical braid. She would go finish up some things at the newspaper before heading over to the festival. After all, she hadn’t gotten a lick of work done since Susannah had come home yesterday afternoon.

Her resolve lasted all the way down the stairs and out the front door. Then she saw Donovan coming up the walk.

Her heart clenched. He looked so handsome, all dressed up in his black suit with the silver waistcoat, his long legs making it easy for him to take the porch steps two at a time. He grinned as he saw her, his dimple flashing. Before she could say a word, he bent forward and stole a quick kiss. “Hello, sweet Sarah.”

“Jack.” Fighting to regain emotional equilibrium, Sarah took a step back. “I didn’t think you were coming.”