Donovan's Bed: The Calhoun Sisters, Book 1 (32 page)

Her only worry was that his dislike for her sister might tempt him to do away with Suzie before Sarah could locate them.
 

She closed up the office and quickly walked over to her mother’s corral. Slipping the plates into her saddle bags, she mounted Senseless, a strange calm settling over her like a cloak of confidence. She knew there was every chance her plan would fail, and that she could die tonight. But at the same time, she had faith in the man she had come to know so well. If there was anyone who could help her survive this, it was Jack Donovan.

She took a last look at the house where she had lived for so many years. She had been blessed with loving parents and a nice home. Not all people were that lucky.
 

Jack hadn’t been.

Yet despite her happy childhood, tragedy had found her, just as it had found Jack. Fate didn’t discriminate when it handed out the heartache, and people did what they had to in order to survive.
 

Jack had become Blade. She had turned to the newspaper. And in trying to get through, they had found each other—and love.
 

She was depending on that love now, not just to save her life, but for her sister’s as well.
 

Sarah said a silent farewell to the house she might never see again and swiftly headed toward town.

Main Street was fairly deserted, but at the Four Aces, lights still burned and music and laughter carried out into the night. She spotted the familiar figure of Mort leaning back against the wall outside the saloon. Johnny and Gabriel sat nearby, setting up the checkerboard by lamplight. Sarah reined in before the trio.
 

“Evenin’, Mrs. Donovan,” Mort greeted her. “Awful late for a ride, wouldn’t you say?”

“I need your help,” she replied with no preliminaries. “Luke Petrie kidnapped my sister, and I’m going after them. I need one of you to go fetch Jack right away.”

The legs of Mort’s chair hit the wooden sidewalk with a thud. “The hell you say!”

“Ma’am, wouldn’t it be better to wait for your husband?” Johnny asked hopefully.
 

“There’s no time,” she said urgently. “Will you help me?”

“We’ll rustle up a posse to go fetch your sister back,” Gabriel said.
 

“That’s a very good idea, but I’m still going,” Sarah said. “Tell Jack I’ll be at Stony Ridge.” She kicked her horse into a gallop, leaving the three men in the dust of her departure.

Donovan was already up and dressed when Mort knocked on his door. Despite his best attempts, sleep had eluded him. Maybe it was because Sarah wasn’t beside him for the seventh night in a row. Maybe it was the kiss earlier today that had made him realize that he couldn’t last another night without her. Whatever the reason, after an hour of tossing and turning, he had risen from his bed and pulled on his clothes, determined that he would not spend another night without his wife beside him.
 

Even if it was on that cot in the back room of the
Chronicle
.
 

Yet now Mort stood on his doorstep with news that chilled his blood. Petrie had kidnapped Susannah, and Sarah had gone after them.
 

Alone.
 

“Marshal Brown’s forming a posse,” Mort continued. “But Mrs. Donovan told me to come and fetch you.”

“My wife sent you?” At Mort’s nod, Donovan let out a deep sigh. Finally, Sarah had given him an indication that she had faith in him. But the cost might be her life. “I’ll be there directly. Tell Marshal Brown not to leave without me.”

Mort nodded and hurried down the steps to his horse.
 

Donovan shut the door. Already the change was coming over him. That dark, quiet part of himself that produced the deadly Blade had awakened, pushing aside the frenetic emotions that could tangle a man’s thoughts during the hunt. The only thing that lingered was his love for Sarah. It was so much a part of him that he could not put it aside, even though it could distract him, and cause him to make a mistake at a crucial moment.
 

But he would not let that happen. He would keep his emotions in check and take care of Petrie once and for all.
 

It was time for Blade to ride again.
 

Sarah pulled Senseless to a halt and stared at the rocky precipice known as Stony Ridge. The mountain was riddled with a series of caves, left from the long ago meanderings of a river that no longer existed. A few years before, there had been a brief resurgence of the gold rush that had led Josiah Burr to found the town. The “gold strike” lasted only as long as it took to verify that the gold was pyrite again, and then died down. But one prospector, Horace Plunkett, had stuck it out. Until the day he died three years ago, he had been convinced that he would strike gold on Stony Ridge.
 

When Sarah had seen the words “Property of H. Plunkett” printed on the bag that held the stolen plates, she had known exactly where Luke held her sister hostage.
 

Sarah got off Senseless and tied him to a tree near the base of the mountain. Slowly she unfastened the saddlebags. As she lifted them from the back of the horse, the contents clinked together, making her stomach knot. She knelt in the dirt and opened one of the bags, reaching inside to pull forth the cold metal from within.
 

The derringer gleamed in the moonlight.
 

She reached into the pouch again and pulled out the ammunition for the tiny pocket revolver. With shaking fingers, she loaded the weapon as her father had taught her long ago. Then she slipped it into the pocket of her heavy brown skirt.
 

Sarah knew she might not survive to see the morning. But this might even the odds.

Quickly, she closed up the saddlebags and, slinging them over her shoulder, took the horse’s reins, and headed for the path that led up the mountain. As she wove her way along the rocky track that led to Horace Plunkett’s old cabin, the sky was cloudless, and the stars bright.
 

She hoped the clear weather would help Jack find her in time.
 

The marshal was organizing search parties by the time Donovan got to town.
 

As he rode down Main Street, he saw the faces of his neighbors and friends grow wary as he passed them by. Mothers clutched their children to their skirts. Men took on a challenging stance.
 

Blade had returned.
 

As he brought his horse to a stop near Marshal Brown, he felt as isolated as if he had never lived these past few months as Jack Donovan.
 

Maybe it was the buckskin pants or the long, dark brown duster or the wide-brimmed black hat that sat low on his forehead. Maybe it was the six-inch bowie knife at his waist or the revolver strapped to his thigh or the two rifles fastened to his saddle. Or maybe it was just the look in his eyes. But somehow the people of Burr recognized him for what he was.
 

Dangerous.
 

Jedidiah looked up as Donovan dismounted. “Glad to see you, Donovan,” he said as casually as if the entire town wasn't staring at their neighbor in uncertainty. “I imagine you’ll want to help plan this operation.”
 

“You imagine right.” Even his voice had changed, had taken on that low, emotionless cadence that had served Blade so well. “That’s my family he’s got—my wife, my sister-in-law.”

“We can certainly use your help. You ride with my group, Donovan.”
 

“I was going to.” Donovan glanced at the men who were going to help him get his wife back. “I’m obliged for your help,” he said in an attempt to bridge the chasm he felt forming between them. Never again did he intend to walk that lonely path between decency and vice, cut off from society on both sides of the scale.
 

At this glimpse of the man they knew, some of the stiffness immediately left the expressions of the other men in the posse.
 

“Mort,” said the marshal, “did Mrs. Donovan say where she was headed?”

“Stony Ridge,” Mort answered immediately. “But how do you reckon to find her in the dark? Even in daylight, her trail would be hard to read up there in those rocks.”
 

Donovan turned his head to fix Mort with a steady, certain stare. “I’ll find her.”
 

“I bet you will,” Mort agreed.
 

“Let’s get started,” Marshal Brown said and headed for his horse.
 

Sarah approached the cabin as quietly as she could, but Luke must have been watching for her. The door to the building opened and he leaned against the door frame, the revolver in his hand and a smile on his face.
 

“Glad to see you could make it, Sarah.”

“Where’s my sister?” she demanded, grateful that her voice didn’t tremble. The weight of the derringer was heavy in her pocket.
 

“Sister Sue is right inside. We’ve been having a little visit,” he sneered.
 

“If you hurt her—”
 

He straightened. “Don’t threaten me, Sarah.” The firelight from inside the cabin played over his face. With his fine-boned features, thin mustache, and short black hair, he looked like Satan on a holiday. She fisted her hands to stop their trembling.
 

“You said if I brought you the plates, then Susannah would go free.”
 

“That’s the deal,” he agreed.
 

She reached into the saddlebag hanging over her shoulder and pulled forth a cloth-wrapped bundle. “Here they are.”
 

He arched his brows. “Really, Sarah, how foolish do you think I am?”
 

Shrugging off the saddlebags, she pulled open the leather bag and drew out the plates. The metal gleamed in the moonlight. “There. Satisfied?”
 

“For the moment.” He gestured with the gun. “Bring the plates over here, Sarah.”

She didn’t budge. “No, you bring my sister out here.”

“Sarah…” he warned.
 

She slipped the plates back into the bag, then hefted it in her hand and extended her arm backward, poised to throw. “Bring my sister out here, or I fling these off the mountain.”

“Don’t be stupid,” he snapped impatiently. “I could shoot you before you had the chance to do it.”

“You might miss.” She stretched her arm back a little more. “Would you like to take that chance?”

He hesitated, then said, “You’ll pay for this, Sarah.”
 

“I know I will,” she muttered.
 

“Wait here.” He disappeared inside for a moment, then reappeared with Susannah, who was conscious but unsteady on her feet. Sarah felt a pang of pride as she saw how her sister struggled to maintain her balance, rather than depend on the man who held her captive to support her weight. Luke grabbed a handful of Suzie’s hair and jerked her sister’s head back, pressing the gun to her temple. A whimper of pain escaped Susannah’s lips.
 

“Let’s have those plates, Sarah,” he demanded. “You know it would give me the greatest of pleasure to shut your sister’s mouth permanently.”
 

“All right.” She knew better than anyone what atrocities Luke Petrie was capable of committing. “I have what you want right here; just don’t shoot.”

“Bring the plates, Sarah.”

She came forward hesitantly, holding the neck of the bag with a firm grip. Two steps…then one…and she’d be ready to make her move.
 

She saw the half smile on Luke’s face as he gloated at having her in his grasp. She remembered that he had worn that same expression right after he had taken her virginity. At the time she had thought it was a smile of pleasure, but now she knew it was one of conquest.
 

This time, Luke Petrie would
not
win.
 

She reached them. This close, Sarah could see how pale her sister was even in the moonlight, and how she trembled. Fury rose, but she squelched it. If they were to escape alive, she couldn’t give in to emotion. Still, the very real feelings made her performance all the more authentic as she gasped with alarm and reached out a hand to Susannah. Luke turned his head, a snarl escaping his lips, and swatted her arm away. At the same time, Sarah swung the bag of plates around with her other hand, slamming him solidly on the side of the head.
 

“Run, Suzie!” she screamed. She shoved at Luke with her body, breaking his hold on Susannah. Suzie stumbled forward a step, then swayed on her feet. “Suzie, run! Get help!”

Luke raised his arm, blood trickling from his temple, and pointed his revolver at Susannah. Sarah gave a shriek of rage and brought the bag of plates down hard on his gun arm. The shot fired harmlessly into the dirt at Susannah’s feet.
 

“
Run, Suzie
!”