Donovan's Bed: The Calhoun Sisters, Book 1 by Debra Mullins Read Free Book Online

prime filly.”
    “Actually I just bought a gelding.” He indicated the bay, whose ears twitched as a wagon rumbled by.
    Mort squinted at the horse, then chuckled. “Well, that’s not what I meant, but that’s a fine piece of horseflesh, Donovan. It surely is.”
    “He’s a beautiful animal,” Donovan agreed, admiring the way the sunlight played over the horse’s coat. “He’s a bit high-strung, though. I’m gonna have to work with him.”
    “That so?” Mort chewed on his toothpick and grinned like he knew some secret.
    Donovan replaced his hat and gave the oldsters a nod. “See ya around.”  
    The two men engrossed in the checker game grunted in response. Mort touched his hat brim, still wearing that all-knowing grin. Donovan shook his head and went into the saloon.
    The squeak of the doors swinging behind him melded with the familiar sounds of cards being shuffled and bottles clinking against glasses. Conversation hummed steadily, like a heartbeat, and cigar smoke tinged the air with wisps of gray fog. For a moment he was fifteen years old again, watching his mama all done up in satin and feathers, singing songs that no one could hear.  
    He closed his eyes against the painful memories. The liquor. The men. The murder. It was a time in his life he preferred to forget, though those incidents had led him to where he was today. His entire identity had been forged from spilled blood and steel-edged lust.
    “Hey there, boss!” Amos called out to him.
    The past dissolved into the present.
    Donovan made his way across the room and edged up to the bar next to Amos. “Everything all right at the ranch?” he asked.
    “Yep.” Amos tossed back a shot of whiskey and reached for the bottle.
    “Must be, if you’re here instead of there.”
    Amos grinned as he poured another shot. “Right as rain, boss. Get yer horse?”
    “I did.” Donovan signaled the bartender. “He’s got a lot of spirit.”
    Amos smiled, a gleam in his eye. “Betcha he does.” He gulped down another mouthful of whiskey.
    Coralee, one of the saloon girls, sidled up to Donovan and smiled with blatant invitation. “What’ll ya have?” she purred, pressing her scantily clad bosom against his arm.
    “Harve’s getting it.” Unlike many of the girls, Coralee was actually pretty, with big brown eyes and bouncing chestnut curls. Any other time, Donovan might have considered taking her up on her unspoken offer. But he was plumb fed up with women for the day. “Another time, maybe.”
    She drew a slender hand across his chest. “I’ll hold ya to that.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “Maybe we can have a tussle in that purty bed of yours. I sure would like that.”
    Before he could respond, Harve brought Donovan’s usual bourbon and shooed Coralee off with an impatient hand. “Get off with ya, Coralee. This one ain’t interested.”
    With a pout, Coralee turned on her heel and stalked off in a flurry of satin and feathers. Despite himself, Donovan enjoyed the view of her retreating rump. Then he turned to Amos. “Something going on around here I don’t know about?”
    “Naw. Word got out ‘bout you lookin’ for a wife is all. Was in the paper.”
    “Is that so? Well, that might explain a few things.” Stifling a grin, Donovan took a sip of the bourbon. So, Sarah had advertised that fact, had she? Good. So far his list of eligible women was a mighty short one. He thought back to the incident with the Turner twins, then shrugged. It was worth a bit of bother if he ended up finding the right wife.
    “Yep,” Amos said. “Folks been talkin’ since the paper come out on Wednesday.”
    Better yet, Donovan thought, finishing off his drink. If the paper got out to some of the surrounding spreads, he might get lucky and marry himself a rancher’s daughter instead of a spinster from town. He placed his empty glass on the table and tossed some money down beside it. “I’d better get Senseless out to the ranch. See ya later,