Donnell: Cowboy Scrutiny: The Kavanagh Brothers Book 5 Read online

  Donnell: Cowboy Scrutiny

  The Kavanagh Brothers Book 5

  Kathleen Ball

  Copyright © 2020 by Kathleen Ball

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

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  Contents

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  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Epilogue

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  Book 6 Murphy: Cowboy Deceived

  Romance on the Oregon Trail

  Cora’s Courage chapter one

  About the Author

  Other Books by Kathleen

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  Chapter One

  The trunk sat directly in Donnell Kavanagh’s path on the planked walkway. He frowned as he sidestepped it to avoid running into it. Muttering under his breath, he shook his head. Why didn’t people just put things where they belonged? Against the front of the general store would have worked. Anywhere but right where people walked.

  He pushed the door open, jingling the bells above it. The housekeeper on the Kavanagh ranch had sent him to town with a list of items. He had nine brothers, but she had asked him. He had plenty of work, enough to keep him busy for months. No one said no to Dolly, though. He wasn’t even sure what made her choose him. Maybe she figured the importance of his work didn’t exist.

  “Good to see you, John,” he greeted the store owner, who nodded at him when he walked inside.

  A woman stood at the counter, which meant he’d have to wait his turn, so he wandered around the store, checking out the shelves. After he looked around, he walked closer to the back of the store hoping to find out what was taking John so long with the other customer.

  He tried to get a look at the woman, but her calico bonnet hid many of her features. Wisps of her blond hair had escaped but that was all he could make out. He observed the collection of dust on her clothes and surmised she’d taken the coach.

  “I’m sorry, really I am, but no one by the name Joe Kingsley lives in these here parts,” John O’Rourke said, the impatience in his voice was very clear.

  Her shoulders slumped. “Thank you anyway. I should have known this would happen.” She turned and walked out of the store without so much as a glance at Donnell.

  “Poor woman,” John said, shaking his head. “She’s a mail-order bride, but there isn’t a groom. Well, what brings you here, Donnell? Did Dolly send you with a list?”

  Donnell handed the piece of paper to the shopkeeper.

  After glancing at the items listed, John smiled. “I’ll have this order ready for you in about ten minutes.”

  “Thanks, I’ll be back.” Donnell strode back outside to the wooden plank walk. The woman from the store was sitting on her trunk and when she gazed up at him, she had all kinds of hurt in her eyes.

  “Anything I can do to help?” As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he wanted them back. What was he doing? He didn’t need other people’s problems.

  “No but thank you for asking.” A heavy sigh slipped out. “Is there a boarding house near here? I saw a hotel, but I can’t afford that. I thought maybe I could do some work in exchange for a room.”

  “It’s all full up!” John called from inside.

  Her forehead wrinkled. “He heard us from all the way in there?”

  Before Donnell could answer, John yelled, “Yes!”

  Donnell’s lips twitched. John knew all the latest happenings around town. He offered his arm to the woman. “Let’s walk and let John have some peace.”

  She hesitated, and he thought for sure she’d say no, but she finally stood and put her arm on his.

  “I’m Donnell Kavanagh, and you are?”

  “I’m Clarissa Plunkett. We must make this a brief walk; I need to find a place to spend the night.”

  “Tell me what happened,” he suggested.

  “I had been corresponding with Mr. Kingsley for three months. I know that’s not very long, seeing it takes a while to get a letter delivered, but we both believed we suited. He sent me a ticket and a proposal. Well, no one met me when I got off the stagecoach, I got an unpleasant feeling. Honestly, I don’t know what to make of my situation. He seemed sincere, and I’m not the most trusting woman.”

  “It’s perplexing, all right. I’ve never heard of a Joe Kingsley either. Are you sure you’re in the right town? Maybe you got on the wrong stagecoach. Or got off at the wrong stop?”

  “Thank you for the walk, Mr. Kavanagh. I think I’ll stop in at the hotel after all.” She slipped her hand from his arm and went into the hotel.

  Donnell waited a few minutes, but she didn’t come back out. He shrugged; she’d be just fine. He hurried back to the store and was glad to see that John had everything ready to be loaded into the wagon.

  “So, did you get any information on that pretty gal?”

  Donnell shook his head. “She looks too young to be on her own. I’m sure she’ll get it figured out.” As soon as everything was in the wagon, Donnell headed for home. He tried to think about all the work he had to do, but Clarissa’s troubled face distracted him.

  * * *

  Clarissa pulled her wrap around her. The sun would set in about an hour. She’d waited until the pleasant man, Donnell, had left town to come out of the hotel lobby. He was sympathetic, but he didn’t have any answers. All the businesses were closing up, all except for the saloon. They probably had a cheap room, but she’d counted on making a fresh start. She wanted to be known as a respectable woman.

  She hurried across the street and went through the saloon’s swinging doors. It was like walking into a cloud of smoke.

  “If you ain’t drinkin’ you ain’t stayin’!” the bartender shouted at her.

  Heat scorched her face as every man in the place turned to stare at her. If she wanted to sleep inside, she’d have to go to the bar. Pretending she wasn’t being watched, that was just what she did. The bartender wore such an amused expression, she felt all kinds of humiliated.

  “Would you like whiskey or whiskey?” He leaned his arm onto the bar as he continued to stare at her.

  “How much is a whiskey?” she asked, trying to sound confident.

  “If you need to ask, you can’t afford one. Whatcha doing here? This is no place for you.”

  “I need a room for the night. I got off at the wrong stop.” She met his gaze. “I don’t want a job here, just a room.”

  “Honey, if you can’t afford a whiskey you can’t afford a room. There’s a boarding house on the other side of the street.”

  “It’s filled.” She nodded in his direction. “Thank you anyway. It won’t be the first time I’ve slept outside.” She turned and walked to the doors.

  “Wait, you can stay free for one night. Is that your trunk that’s been sitting in front of the general store all day?”

  She nodded.

  “I’ll have one of the fellas get it for you.” He handed her a key. “Room five and make sure y
ou keep the door locked. I can’t help it if the men knock, just don’t open the door.”

  Shocked, she tried to cover her shaking as she took the key. “Thank you. It’s the kindest thing anyone has done for me in a very long time.”

  He gave her a sad smile and pointed to the stairs. She walked as primly and properly as she could while men whistled and made crude remarks. Slowly, she climbed the steps. This was not the beginning of her fresh start.

  * * *

  If Donnell had to hear about that poor girl one more time he was going to eat in the bunkhouse. How did news travel so fast? It was all too suspicious as far as he was concerned. She was just a woman.

  It wasn’t his problem. Really it was not his problem. Nope, not his. He sighed. If he hoped for any peace, he’d best see Miss. Plunkett. He’d be firm. An offer of money would be the only thing to do no matter what Dolly wanted. He’d get Miss. Plunkett onto a stagecoach going somewhere else.

  He went to the barn and his other brothers snickered as he saddled Rascal, his roan gelding. He didn’t glance at his brothers or utter a word. The leather saddle creaked as he jumped on. He lowered the brim of his tan hat and urged his horse into a leisurely walk as he rode toward town.

  It wasn’t a lengthy ride and the day was pleasant enough. He stopped Rascal in front of the hotel, slid off and then tied the horse at the hitching post. He nodded in greeting to a few folks out walking and went into the hotel.

  The owner of the hotel, Glen Pickford, was a good man and an excellent friend. Donnell shook his hand. “Has Miss. Plunkett come down yet?”

  But Glen just shook his head and shrugged. “She never checked in. She came in and sat on the bench for a few minutes and then left. Of course, her being alone and all, I watched to see where she went. I have to say the saloon was the last place I figured she’d end up.”

  “The saloon?” Panic washed over Donnell. Dolly would have his head if she heard that. He headed out the door and took off running. What had that woman been thinking, going into a saloon and spending the night?

  He pushed at the swinging doors and entered. Clarissa was just coming down the stairs. She sure was graceful.

  “Mr. Kavanagh, I didn’t expect to see you here so early in the day,” she said. She looked tired.

  “I guess I didn’t expect to see you in here at all. Did you…? I mean…” Heat flooded his face.

  “Yes, I was given a room to stay in all by myself,” she said in a cool voice. “I appreciate the hospitality I’ve found here. The bartender was generous enough to offer me a place to sleep. I’m grateful I didn’t have to sleep outside. I do thank you for your concern, though. If you’ll excuse me?” With that, she swept by him and left the bar.

  Donnell followed her outside. “Wait, Miss. Plunkett. I’d like to speak with you for a moment.”

  She stopped and turned to face him.

  “I’d like to pay for a ticket for you to go home. Seeing how there isn’t a groom waitin’ for you here.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “You think I’m lying.”

  He opened his mouth to deny it, but she waved one hand at him. “I can tell when someone thinks I’m lying. Mr. Kavanagh, let me tell you something. I did indeed exchange letters with a Mr. Joe Kingsley, and he sent me a ticket. I have no other reason for being here. I thought about it all night, but I can’t figure out what went wrong. How can I be betrothed to a man who doesn’t live where he said he lived? That’s the lie you need to think about.” She turned and walked away. Her hips swayed in the slightest way, but he noticed.

  “Miss Plunkett, wait.” He hurried and caught up to her. “I’ll investigate it all for you. I’ll find out what happened.” He sighed, thinking of Dolly. “You might as well come home with me.”

  Her mouth opened wide, and then she snapped it closed. “Isn’t that convenient? Tell me, Mr. Kavanagh, does your wife know you’re here making me offers?”

  “I assure you she does not,” he blustered. “I mean— look, there isn’t a missus. I’m not married. I live on a nice spread with my brothers. A few are married, and there are children about, and Dolly our dear housekeeper will be at the house at all times.” He spoke so fast he had to take a deep breath when he finished.

  Her brow furrowed as she worried her lip. “I just don’t know. Truthfully, I never thought that Joe Kingsley wouldn’t be here. I had hopes and dreams that relied on his promise of marriage. I suppose I could use a place to regroup. I know the saloon wasn’t a moral decision, but I didn’t know what else to do. It was that or sleep outside.”

  Donnell rubbed the back of his neck. “Do you have the letters with you? Perhaps we could look at them and see if there are any clues.”

  “Mr. Kavanagh, usually letters are of a personal nature. What would you be looking for?”

  “Any clue that can tell us where he’s from. Certain words or a mention of a town. It might help.”

  Her lips flattened into a tense line, but then she released a long breath and relaxed her shoulders a bit. “You’re welcome to scrutinize the letters. I’m more embarrassed than angry that Mr. Kingsley wasn’t here to meet me. I’ll admit it was a total leap of faith, but why lure me out here and not meet me?”

  They strolled along the plank walkway as they talked. “The livery is just up ahead.” Donnell gestured toward the stables. “I can rent a carriage and take you and your things out to the ranch. It’ll all be entirely proper, I assure you.”

  “Would you mind making the arrangements while I speak again to Mr. O’Rourke at the general store? My letters were sent here.”

  “You solve that mystery, and I’ll get everything arranged. I’ll meet you at the store.”

  * * *

  John O’Rourke turned his gaze to the door when Clarissa pushed it open.

  She gave him a polite nod. “Good morning, Mr. O’Rourke. I was hoping to ask you a few questions.”

  “Good morning to you, Miss. Plunkett. I’d be happy to help.” His smile didn’t seem genuine to her.

  “I was wondering if the letters I sent to Mr. Kingsley were here at the post office?”

  “No. But if a person knew the mail stops, they could alert the driver and postmaster that the letters needed to be forwarded to a different place.”

  She frowned. “Does this happen to small towns or is it a Western thing? I’ve never heard of such a practice.”

  “It’s the way we do it in the West,” he acknowledged. “People move, especially cowboys. Some letters are just addressed to the post office or a town with a name on it. The train takes the mail to Fort Worth. After that it goes by way of stagecoaches. My best guess is either someone in Fort Worth knew to look for the letters or the stagecoach driver knew to drop the letters somewhere else. Could be the recipient of the letter met the stage somewhere. It could have been a place the stage stopped every time they came through to change horses and drivers.” He offered a shrug that said he didn’t much care. “I wish I had a better answer for you. Sometimes the mail official will ask if a person still lives here, and if not they take the letter with them back to Fort Worth unless someone alerts them along the way that a person’s mail is to be delivered to a different place. I’m telling you it can be one colossal headache.”

  “I’m sorry to put you to such a bother,” she apologized. “I had no idea how it all worked. It’s easy enough to see why letters seem to take so long to get to the rightful person. I will be at the Kavanagh ranch if anyone should inquire.”

  “I’m sorry as can be about your groom, Miss Plunkett. It seems downright rude.” This time his smile seemed a bit more genuine. “You take care, now.”

  “Thank you, Mr. O’Rourke.” She stepped outside. There wasn’t a way to find Joe. Had something happened to him? He must have intended to live in these parts. That was where the ticket had brought her. His letters had been sweet, and she’d trusted him. When would she ever learn that trust had to be earned and not given so lightly? It was too hard to accept that he had no intention to
marry her or even meet her. Maybe he had seen her and walked away. That scenario sounded the most logical.

  This entire journey had been a bust. Going to stay at a ranch was crazy. She didn’t know the Kavanaghs. But she didn’t see where she had any alternative at the moment. She hadn’t had much choice but to leave Philadelphia, either. Her mother had never wanted her. Therefore, she had been raised by teachers at boarding schools. When she’d graduated, there was no one in the audience. Always a saver, she’d saved every bit of money her mother sent. Clarissa didn’t need much. After graduation, she’d traveled back to be with her mother.

  She had possessed one envelope from her mama with a return address on it. The rest of them were blank in that spot. It had been nerve racking taking a train to Bent, Texas. She’d stopped at a hotel, gotten a room and freshened up before she went to her mother’s address. Her thoughts drifted back.

  Music could be heard before she’d reached the building. Thatcher Saloon was written on the sign that was nailed above the door. Her heart fell. She didn’t understand. Her mother had always written they’d be together once Clarissa graduated. Well, she had finished school, and now here she was. But this couldn’t be the correct address. She started to turn when a tall, unshaven man ran out of the building.

  “You’re the very image of Irene,” he exclaimed excitedly. “What an expert money maker. No one could compete.”

  “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean, sir.”

  He laughed. “Sir, that’s a good one. For all I know I could be your father. Of course, there’s no way to know for sure. Looking to step into her shoes, are you?”