Sean Donovan (The Californians, Book 3) (10 page)

In a state of physical exhaustion, Sean thought he
would fall right to sleep, but again the day's events began
to play through his mind. One moment he was about to
be hanged, and the next he was married. In quick succession the faces of Father, Rigg, Kaitlin, Marcail, Gretchen,
and Molly all floated through his mind. Someday he
might see them again. The thought was too much for
him.

His hand came to the tender line on his neck where the
rope had rubbed. This time he let the fear and helplessness come fully to mind. Tears flooded his eyes. He had
cried in the jail cell right before the hanging, but these
tears, in the house of a stranger who now happened to
be his wife, made the earlier tears seem minor in comparison.

Sean's entire body shook with sobs, and he was unaware of the hoarse cries that issued from his throat. He
thought he would never gain control, and in fact, didn't
even try. He wept and thanked God he was alive, allowing himself for the first time to really believe it.

Unknown to Sean, Charlie stood in the middle of her
bedroom and listened to his cries. Her face was a mask of
shock and confusion. Before this time she would have
said that the sound of a man's tears would disgust her,
but not now, not this man's.

Charlie's heart was hard, but something was beginning to tear inside of her. She told herself that if he didn't
stop soon, he was going to make her cry. And that was
something she was sure couldn't happen, since she
hadn't cried in years.

She listened until the tears stopped, and wondered
what type of man her husband really was.

"My husband," Charlie said out loud, as if she had
just realized this fact. She whispered, "What have I
done?"

Franklin Witt stood in the sheriff's living room, where
he had tracked down Judge Harrison. The banker was
fraught with frustration, since the judge would not listen to reason.

"Doesn't anyone recognize that we've let a bank robber loose? He has probably murdered Charlie and is
halfway to Hartley's hideout by now."

"I think you've got him all wrong, Witt. For one thing,
Charlie can usually take care of herself, and for another,
Sean is not violent. He's also not really loose, at least, not
the way you're talking about," Duncan assured him.
"I'll be keeping an eye on him, you can count on that."

Witt ran a distracted hand through his hair, and the
judge took pity on him.

"Go home now, Witt. The document was legal, and
there's nothing you can do. Maybe things will look better
in the morning."

Seeing that he had no choice, Franklin bid the men
goodnight. Once outside, he stood for a moment on the
porch and drew the night air into his lungs.

"Things might look better in the morning," he said to
himself as determination overtook him, "but I'm not
through with Sean Donovan. I'm sure he can tell me
more."

Sean found himself wishing for a Bible as he dressed
for the day. It had been a long time coming, but now with
all his heart he'd love to read a few verses in God's Word.
Some verses from Proverbs 3 came to mind, and Sean
repeated these to himself as he dressed.

They were verses about trusting in the Lord for everything, instead of following your own heart. Even as Sean
committed his future to doing just that, he couldn't help
but wonder how different things might be if he'd done it
five years ago. But no matter how he looked at the past,
he was in Visalia now and married, and he'd best determine to follow God no matter what the future might
bring.

He moved to the mirror and frowned at his reflection-he had no brush or comb. Before exiting his
bedroom for breakfast, he finger-combed his hair and
smoothed his beard, knowing it would have to do.

As he had expected, Charlie was already in the kitchen,
and Sean approached slowly.

"Good morning."

"Morning," Charlie greeted him without turning from
the stove. "You can sit down. I've got some pancakes
near ready."

Sean did as he was told and thought the breakfast
smelled wonderful. His mouth began to water.

Charlie came to the table a moment later bearing two
plates. There were two large pancakes with a drop of
applesauce on the side of each plate. The moment Charlie's body hit the chair she began to eat. She didn't rush,
but she didn't take time for social amenities such as
conversation or giving thanks for the food either.

Sean thanked God silently and began to eat. Since
there didn't appear to be any other food, he told himself
to go slowly. But Charlie was a good cook, and the first
bite was too much for him. Within the space of a few
seconds, Sean's plate was clean.

The pancakes did nothing toward appeasing Sean's
hunger; in fact, they had only whet his appetite. He was
reaching for his coffee when his stomach growled so
loudly that he thought it might have been heard on the
street.

"Didn't they feed you in jail?" Charlie asked softly.

"Yes.
"

Sean was careful not to look at his wife as he answered. He could feel the heat in his cheeks and lifted his
cup to his lips hoping she wouldn't notice. He had been
entertaining thoughts of shaving his beard if the opportunity presented itself, but if he was going to blush every
time his wife looked at him, he just might reconsider.

Sean didn't know that neither his beard nor his cup
did anything to hide the heating of his face, and Charlie
watched in fascination as he flushed. She could hardly
believe what she was seeing.

Charlie simply did not know what to think of this
man. He was certainly unlike any bank robber she'd ever
envisioned. He removed his hat when he spoke to her or
entered a room. And he had actually attempted to help her from the wagon. He also blushed like a schoolboy in
a roomful of little girls.

"There's more applesauce over there if you want it."

Charlie didn't know why she offered it to him, except
that it felt funny to still be eating when the plate across
the table was empty and the man behind the plate still
hungry.

"Thank you," Sean spoke softly and carried his plate
to the stove. The jar was almost empty, but Sean scraped
out what he could and returned to the table. He was
almost seated when he noticed that Charlie's coffee cup
was empty, as was his own.

He didn't see the way Charlie was staring at him as he
filled both cups until he'd again taken his seat at the
table.

"I'm sorry," he said, gently contrite. "I saw your cup
was empty and assumed you would want more."

"How'd you get to be a bank robber? You sure don't act
like one."

The question surprised Sean speechless, and then he
realized that everything about him, except possibly his
looks, belied the situation in which they had first met.

"It's a long story," Sean finally answered after a few
awkward moments.

Charlie shrugged. "I don't suppose it's any of my
business anyway. And speaking of business," she stood
abruptly, "we've got to get to work. Are you ready?"

"Sure," Sean answered, trying to ignore the hollow
feeling in his stomach.

Charlie picked up her gun and led the way to the
livery. Once inside she threw both sets of double doors
wide open. Sean stood and watched her, wondering
again when he should mention his experience.

"You ever feed stock?" Charlie asked abruptly.

"Yes, I have," Sean answered with relief, honestly
wanting to help. "I've worked in a livery before."

Charlie's stance changed. "With a smithy?"

Sean nodded, and Charlie wanted to laugh at her good
luck. She had been certain she was going to have to show
this man everything.

"Good," she said simply, looking pleased without
smiling. "There are three horses that need shoes. Head
on into the forge and get started. I'll do the feeding."

Sean stood for a moment inside the forge and let his
eyes caress the familiar tools of the trade. A smithy's job
was long, backbreaking labor, but he had genuinely
enjoyed the work and remembered it fondly as his gaze
took in the anvil, forge, large bellows, drill bits, stocks
and dies, and various hammers.

In the two years he had worked for the livery in Santa
Rosa, he'd worked almost every aspect of the job from
horse shoeing to wagon and halter repair. But never had
the full weight of the job fallen on him before. Strangely
enough, or perhaps not so strangely, he saw it as a
challenge.

Hours later, Sean's shirt was soaked beneath his
leather apron and the sound of pounding metal could be
heard through the building. Charlie had been in to check
on him from time to time, but satisfied with what she
saw, she said nothing.

It was nearing 1:00 when Sean felt he needed food to
finish the day. He went in search of his wife. He found
her talking to a customer, and stood back as she finished.

The breeze was heavenly on his heated skin, and Sean
had leaned back against the building and let his eyes
slide shut. Charlie stabled a beautiful mare, and then
joined Sean by the rear doors. It took him a moment to
realize that she had drawn near and stood watching him.

In a move as automatic as breathing, Sean straightened and removed his cap. "I know there is a lot of work
to be done, Charlotte, but if I'm going to finish the day I
need something more to eat." Sean watched her brow
lower, not understanding it was self-directed.

"You don't have to fix it," he quickly assured her,
thinking she was angry. "I can get my own."

Charlie's last two smithies had never done anything
but complain. When they weren't whining about something, they were talking with the customers and not
getting any work done. Sean had achieved more in one
morning than her last man could do in a week. He was
obviously a hard worker and Charlie felt badly about not
stopping him at lunchtime.

"The hotel delivers lunch and supper. I've told them
to make it two plates from now on. Go on to the house
and eat." None of this was spoken gently because Charlie was attempting to hide her dismay, but Sean didn't try
to understand. He only nodded gratefully and walked
away. Maybe he'd been wrong to ask about food, but his
limbs were trembling so violently that all he cared about
was making the front door and staying on his feet.

That'll be the regular price, Murphy."

"Put it on my bill."

"You don't have a bill, and last time you left without
paying. Now I'll have my money this time, or I'll keep
your horse."

"Is that right?" came the belligerent reply. "Well, I'm
leaving darlin' and you're welcome to try and stop me."

Not about to let this man walk out for the second time
without paying, Charlie jumped forward and tried to
grab the horse's bridle. Murphy shoved her away with
ease. Sean, having finished his lunch, came through the
back door just as she righted herself.

He watched in surprise as his wife moved forward to
kick the tall man in the leg. Unfortunately, Sean was too
far away to stop what happened next. Murphy turned
back, and with one backward sweep of his hand, sent
Charlie to the floor.