Sean Donovan Page 7

  “It’s me, Sadie,” Charlie spoke as she found her aunt, down the hall and around the corner, in her tiny sewing room. She had a quilt on her lap and was stitching meticulously, near the window where the remaining sunlight poured through in an orange-red glow.

  “Hi, honey,” Sadie greeted her warmly.

  “I came by for a bath.”

  Sadie immediately laid aside her sewing. “All right, I’ll get it for you right now.”

  “It’s not really for me.”

  Sadie’s brows rose. Sitting back down, she eyed her niece speculatively. “I’d almost forgotten that congratulations are in order.”

  Charlie didn’t look at her aunt. Her gaze was focused on the quilt as though it was the most beautiful piece of work she had ever seen.

  “What were you doing at that hanging, girl?” Sadie spoke softly.

  Charlie shrugged. “I had to pick up supplies so I was in the area, and I’d heard he was young, and I just—”

  “Where is he now?”

  “In the kitchen.”

  Sadie looked stern for a moment and then rose with resignation. “Come on then, introduce me to your husband and I’ll get his—” Sadie stopped suddenly as the light fell at just the right angle on Charlie’s bruised face.

  “That skunk oughta be shot,” the older woman spat with fury and disgust. “Where was your husband when Murphy was plowing his fist into your face?”

  “He came in right after.” Charlie tried to defend him, but Sadie only shook her head and led the way to the kitchen. She didn’t ask how Sadie knew about the incident; Sadie seemed to know most everything.

  Sean stood at the rear door, hat in hand, just where Charlie had left him. The kitchen was spacious, and the odors from supper lingered in the air; he guessed it might have been roast beef and potatoes.

  The feeling of unreality was stealing back over him. Twenty-four hours ago he was about to be hanged. Suddenly he was married, working all day as a smithy, and now waiting for a bath in the home of his wife’s aunt.

  His wife. When was it going to sink in? Sean’s mind went to the mixture of hostile and curious stares at the doors of the livery after he had flattened Murphy. His hand clenched in remembrance, and he knew he would do it again in a moment. No one was going to hurt Charlotte if he was around, and considering the terms of the document that Judge Harrison had explained before he’d married them, Sean was going to be around for at least the next five years.

  Sean heard the voices of the women before they entered the room. He stood still, waiting for what he was sure would be a scene. He could just imagine what his wife’s family must think of her marriage to a condemned man.

  Sean watched as a woman of medium height and narrow frame walked into the room. Her hair was dark, with just a touch of gray, and was pulled into a fat bun on the top of her head.

  “You can introduce me now, Charlie,” Sadie instructed after she’d lit a lantern and inspected Sean from the top of his shaggy head to the tips of his grimy boots.

  Charlie cleared her throat uncomfortably. “Sadie, this is my husband, Patrick Dono—”

  “Sean,” Sean interrupted softly, never taking his eyes from his wife’s face. “I go by my middle name, Sean.”

  Charlie returned his look for the space of a second, and then introduced him as Sean Donovan. Upon the correct introduction, Sean’s gaze swung to Sadie, whose face seemed to have softened from when she had first entered the room.

  “Charlie tells me you want a bath.”

  “Only if it’s no trouble,” Sean said, his voice still soft.

  Sadie couldn’t believe her ears. She looked at Charlie, only to see that she was not the least bit surprised by her husband’s considerate attitude.

  “You don’t act like a bank robber,” Sadie blurted unthinkingly.

  Sean glanced at Charlie. “So I’ve been told.”

  “Well, enough small talk.” All at once Sadie became very brisk. “The big tub is in the pantry. You can drag it out here and I’ll fill it for you.”

  “Do you suppose I could get something of Uncle Harry’s from upstairs?”

  “Sure, look in that trunk at the end of my bed.” Sadie’s gaze traveled over Sean’s back as he hefted the tub in his arms. “There won’t be anything to fit him, but at least he’ll be covered while his clothes get washed.”

  Sean let his body sink as far down into the tub as the sides would allow. The water had been almost too hot to touch when he’d first lowered himself in, but now it was just right, and Sean wished he could lay there all night.

  He’d lathered up already and now his head rested on the rim of the tub. His knees were in the air. He let his eyes slide shut. It was then he heard the voices.

  “I can’t do that.”

  “Sure you can,” came Sadie’s kind voice. “I know things aren’t like that between you, but he is your husband. Now just take these clothes to him and get his dirty ones.”

  “Can’t you do it?”

  Sean didn’t hear the reply, but it must have been negative, for a few seconds later his wife entered the room. Sean had to force himself not to cover up, since he believed it would only make an embarrassing situation worse. Charlie, he noticed, was careful not to look anywhere but the floor, even when she addressed him.

  “Here’s a shirt and some pants that belonged to Sadie’s late husband. I’ll wash your other stuff when we get home.”

  “Thank you.”

  The soft, deep voice was enough to finally raise Charlie’s eyes to her husband’s, and she stared for a moment in fascination at the blush that covered his cheeks.

  “When you’re done, we’ll go.” The words were nearly stuttered in her haste, and Charlie exited the room just as swiftly.

  Sean immediately reached for the length of toweling that Sadie had left, and then forced himself into the pants Charlie had brought him.

  He emptied the tub outside. The opening and closing of the back door must have signaled the two women, for just as soon as Sean had his shoes on, Sadie and Charlie returned.

  They both came to a complete stop just inside the kitchen door and stared at Sean. The borrowed pants were too tight and stopped two inches above his ankles. He hadn’t buttoned the front of the shirt because the fabric wouldn’t meet over his chest. The seams on the arms and shoulders were stretched to capacity. The women could only stare.

  “Thank you for the bath,” Sean finally said, breaking the uncomfortable silence. “And for the loan of the clothes.”

  Again Sadie looked at her niece. Her eyes seemed to be asking if this man was real or merely imagined.

  Sean was relieved when Charlie moved toward the door. “Goodnight, Sadie, and thanks.”

  Sean nodded to the older woman and followed his wife. As soon as they reached the house, Charlie set to work washing her husband’s clothes. He stood for a moment in indecision and Charlie, who read the fatigue in his eyes, sent him to bed.

  “It’ll be a while before you’re accustomed to the work, so you’d better get all the rest you can.”

  “Thank you, Charlotte, and goodnight.”

  Charlie didn’t reply, but she did move away from the wash basin to watch him as he moved down the hall and closed his bedroom door behind him.

  sixteen

  Sean wrapped a sheet around his waist the next morning and went in search of his clothes. The kitchen was empty, and there was no sign of his few belongings.

  He had just headed back down the hall and knocked on Charlie’s bedroom door when he heard her come in from outside. He retraced his steps to the kitchen and saw that she held his clothes in her arms.

  “They dried on the line overnight,” Charlie explained as she handed the clothes to Sean and tried not to look at his bare chest. It wasn’t that she hadn’t seen well-built men without their shirts; after all a livery had to have a blacksmith, but Sean was different.

  Breakfast was plentiful on this morning, and Sean ate his fill. Charlie was cleaning up the
plates when she spoke to Sean without turning toward him.

  “We need to head to the general store first thing this morning so you can buy some clothes.”

  Sean hated to admit it, but wasted no time in doing so. “I have no money.”

  “I understand that,” the redhead continued to talk with her back to him. “When Duncan was here yesterday he pointed out to me that I need to buy you a few things.”

  Sean said nothing; he couldn’t get the words past the lump that suddenly rose in his throat. Duncan was the only person who felt real to him, and knowing that he was still thinking of him and cared enough to see to his needs was almost more than Sean could take.

  Twenty minutes later they walked up the street together. The signs of a town coming to life were all around them. Doors were being opened and awnings raised. Sean had no idea where the store was; he simply followed his wife’s lead. She suddenly stopped in front of the barbershop.

  “Would you like a haircut?”

  Sean’s hand moved self-consciously to the shaggy hair at the back of his head. Before he could answer, Charlie held out a few coins to him.

  “I’ll go ahead to the store and find you some clothes. It’s just three doors down. If you finish first, come down and find me.”

  For some reason Sean was hesitant to let her go, but she turned and moved confidently down the street, so he entered the near-empty shop.

  There was a man in the chair who had been talking calmly until Sean stepped across the threshold. His face registered shock and then fear as soon as Sean took a chair against the wall.

  Sean tried to ignore the man’s stare, but his shame was so great that he didn’t know where to look or if he should say something. It was a relief a few minutes later when the man left.

  Sean stood when the barber swiveled the chair in his direction. For the first time he noticed the man showed none of the apprehension that his customer had displayed.

  “Shave and a haircut?” He inquired solicitously.

  Sean glanced at the coins in his hands. “Just a haircut, thanks.”

  As the sheet was draped around him Sean raised his chin. The chair was swiveled to face the mirror, and the barber began to snip.

  “I think you got a lousy deal.” The softly spoken words were such a surprise to Sean that he didn’t immediately answer. The barber met his eyes in the mirror with such understanding that Sean relaxed.

  “I had no business being in the bank in the middle of the night. It’s a miracle I’m alive.”

  The barber smiled. “You’re just like Duncan said you were. Did you want a shave and can’t afford it, or do you prefer the beard?”

  “I’m usually clean-shaven.”

  “Well then, since my sister, who happens to be married to Duncan, thinks you’ve got wonderful potential, the shave will be on the house.”

  “Your sister?”

  “I believe she brought you a couple of meals while you were still in jail.”

  Sean remembered her then. She reminded him of his Aunt Maureen in San Francisco. She’d brought breakfast the morning after he had been arrested. Sean now saw the family resemblance in his barber. They were both round with graying hair and had full faces that brimmed with good health.

  Sean’s face was covered with lather before he could even say thank you, and within the space of about five minutes he was staring at a face he hadn’t seen in months. He looked 17 again. What would Charlotte say?

  He’d know soon enough since the barber was brushing him off and seeing him to the door. Sean stepped out onto the boardwalk. Replacing his cap, which fit differently without all the hair, Sean headed in the direction of the general store.

  Charlie held a shirt up in front of her and wondered again if it was the right size. She had taken special note of how big his clothes were when she’d washed them, but now she felt uncertain. Preoccupied, it took a moment for her to realize someone had come up to stand behind her.

  Sean watched her glance his way and then turn back to the shirt in her hands. An instant later her head whipped back around, eyes locked on his face. He watched as she took a hasty step backward, and quickly reached to steady her as she would have fallen into a low barrel of peanuts. He noted absently that his fingers met around her upper arm.

  “Are you all right?”

  “Yes.” Charlie hated how breathless she sounded. “You just surprised me.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s all right; in fact, I’m glad you’re here. You need to tell me which of these will fit.”

  “There’s no need to guess. Try it on,” a man’s voice called from behind the counter. “I wouldn’t be able to resell it if people knew you’d taken it and brought it back.”

  The implication was not lost on either of them. Charlie’s temper immediately flared, but Sean simply scooped up several shirts and headed into a small curtained room.

  “How dare you talk to him like that, Pete!”

  “It’s the truth, Charlie, and you know it. He’s a criminal and people are going to be wary.”

  “Well, he’s never stolen a thing from your store, so there’s no call to act like that. And another thing, he’s my husband. I give a lot of business to this store, and if you’re not going to treat Sean fairly, I’ll start going across the street!”

  Pete held his hands up in genuine contrition. “I’m sorry, Charlie. I’m just thinking of my need to make a living, and you know how it is in this town. Guilty or not, in the eyes of the people he’s no good.”

  Because he was right, Charlie softened. “I’m sorry I snapped at you. Today we’re in here to shop with honest coins and just want to be treated fairly.”

  “Fair enough,” Pete nodded in agreement and, although still somewhat agitated, showed Charlie one of his new catalogs.

  Sean had not missed one word of the conversation that had transpired in the next room. How did his wife expect people to react to his walking around town a free man, when most of them believed he should be six feet under ground? He felt sorry for her, since she obviously had more on her hands than she had bargained for. The thought troubled him.

  But then without her, Sean would be dead. The sobering thought was enough to bring the young man back to the task at hand. He stepped back out into the store and waited for Charlie and Pete to notice him.

  “Does it fit?” Pete asked, since Charlie seemed capable of little more than staring at Sean with his new haircut.

  “I think the next size up, if you have it.”

  “Sure enough.”

  Sean disappeared back behind the curtain. Charlie wandered around the store then, and with Pete’s help, picked up various items that she thought Sean might need. A special pleasure rose within her at his surprised look of gratitude when he watched Pete wrap their purchases.

  Fifteen minutes later husband and wife were once again back on the street. Tucked safely under Sean’s arm, in a wrapped parcel, were two pair of pants and three shirts, underclothes, socks, a comb and brush set, a razor, shaving mug and brush, and five handkerchiefs.

  They received their fair share of curious stares, but no one appeared to be malicious. Even so, Sean was relieved to see the livery come into view. Charlie threw open the doors, and Sean headed toward the forge. The small ovenlike room was already comfortably familiar to him. Here there were no hostile or speculative looks.

  The morning slipped away in quiet work. Sean found Charlie more than able as an assistant farrier. She seemed to know what a horse was thinking and second guessed movements on more than one occasion. Some horses tended to rest their weight on the man shoeing them. To call this a heavy burden was a gross understatement. Charlie had a little trick of pushing her small fist into the horse’s flank. Most of the animals got the message, and Sean was able to go on with his work without gasping for air. They were just finishing with a high-spirited two-year-old when a young girl appeared with a tray.

  “That’s our lunch,” Charlie said by way of explanation, and aft
er securing the horse, led the girl to a crate.

  “You can put it here, Lucy. Tell your mom I’ll be in to pay my bill tomorrow.”

  The young girl, with a few covert glances at Visalia’s resident outlaw, exited as silently as she had arrived. Charlie washed and set out their food while Sean had a quick wash himself. The crates were in the stall closest to the rear doors. The high separation wall of the stall shielded them from the people passing on the street, but still allowed the breeze from the back doors to reach them.

  Sean looked eagerly at the food before him. Charlie must have been watching since she spoke up immediately.

  “I’ve told the hotel to double your order for both lunch and supper. It might be more than you want, but then it’ll be here in midafternoon if you’re hungry.”

  “Thank you, Charlotte.” Sean reached for his napkin. “It looks great.”

  And indeed it did. Large slices of ham nearly obscured one plate and the mix of carrots and potatoes was making Sean’s mouth water. A jug of water, although not cold, was more than refreshing.

  Sean, after laying his napkin on his knee, simply bowed his head and silently thanked God for the food. He had already reached for his fork and knife before he looked over to see Charlie watching him, her own fork halfway to her mouth.

  “What were you doing just then?”

  “Praying. Thanking God for the meal.”

  Sean couldn’t hold back a smile as Charlie’s head tipped back and she examined the rafters of the livery.

  “Do you think Someone really heard you?” Her voice was sincere.

  “Yes I do,” Sean answered with surety, and Charlie went on to eat her food. Her face, still framed by her hat, gave nothing away.

  seventeen

  Franklin Witt did not have a personal grudge against Sean Donovan. In the hours following the hanging, however, he could think of little else except that he felt cheated. At first he was angry that Donovan hadn’t swung from a rope, and then he got to wondering if maybe Sean could be of more use alive. The thought nagged him until he decided to see Duncan with an idea.