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

Amos.”
    “I’ll come with ya.” Amos left his half empty glass on the bar, hitched up his britches and trailed along behind. It was unusual that Amos would leave a single drop of whiskey untasted, much less half a glassful, but Donovan didn’t comment. He walked out of the saloon, greeted the three men still engaged in their checker game, and headed for Senseless.
    But his horse was gone.
    He stopped and stared at the empty spot on the hitching post where he’d tied the bay. Rage rose, hot and fast. Who had stolen his horse? Six months ago, no one would have dared….
    He turned and stalked back to where Amos was making conversation with Mort, Johnny and Gabriel.
    “Mort, did you see who ran off with my horse?” Donovan demanded.
    “Nope.” Mort chewed on his toothpick. “Saw him loose himself from that hitchin’ post and go off down the road yonder.”
    “Why didn’t you call me?”
    “Well, Johnny here had just kinged Gabriel, and—”
    “Never mind.” Donovan had the suspicious feeling that everyone was laughing at him, and he knew this group well enough to understand that demanding answers would get him nowhere. “Which way did he go?”
    “Thataway.” Johnny pointed down Main Street. “He was walkin’, not runnin’. You could probably still catch him.”
    “Thanks.” Donovan set off after his errant horse.

Chapter Four
    Sarah locked up the back door to the newspaper office and turned toward home. She walked along the back fence that set the Calhouns’ property away from the town by rote, her mind in turmoil.
    The newspaper article had not generated the results she had intended. The gossip mill was grinding away with speculation over the article. No doubt everyone was wondering if Sarah intended to be a contender for the position of Mrs. Jack Donovan. Ever since Saturday night, she had noticed the pointed looks and overheard the urgent whispers as she walked by. And each incident chipped away at the fragile confidence that she had managed to rebuild since Luke Petrie.
    It was as if the last three years had never happened.
    The one redeeming feature of this entire mess should have been Donovan’s annoyance. She had imagined several scenarios, all involving a snarling, irate Donovan bursting into the newspaper office and venting his displeasure with much shouting and pulling of hair. And she would fend off his vituperations with witty, biting comments that would set his teeth on edge until he went mad with frustration.
    But she’d been denied even that small pleasure. Rumor had it that the man was out of town—he didn’t even know about the article.  
    As she strolled toward the back of the Calhoun house, a whinny drew her attention, and she glanced over at the corral.
    “Oh, no!”
    Sarah picked up her skirts and ran over to the huge bay gelding standing outside the fence. Her own bay filly whickered at the other horse from inside the corral.
    “Senseless?” she asked incredulously. Reaching out to grab his reins with one hand, she stroked his neck with the other. “What are you doing here?”
    “That would be my question.”  
    Startled, Sarah saw Donovan approaching from the front of the house.
    “I thought you were out of town,” she blurted.
    “Keeping track of me, sassy girl? I’m flattered.”
    “That’s not what I meant,” she snapped. When he extended a hand for the gelding’s reins, she held them out of his reach. “What do you think you’re doing?”
    “Taking back my horse.” He leaned over her, his broad chest a whisper from her face, and snagged the reins from her hand.
    “Your horse? This horse belongs to Cutter Johnson.”
    Still standing only inches away, he arched a brow at her. “Accusing me of horse stealing now, Sassy?”
    “Of course not. And don’t call me Sassy.”  
    “Sarah, then. I’m thinking that if anyone’s a horse thief around here, it’s you.”
    “ Me ?”
    “You’re the one standing here with my horse. What am I supposed to