Page 23 of Love’s Silver Bullet

“I don’t mind you asking at all, Miss—?”

“Donovan. Mrs. Donovan.” Maggie’s smile was patiently calm, unlike Sheridan’s which was impatiently giddy as Mr. Morgan extended a courteous smile, his perfectly white teeth a striking complement to ebony hair and a well-chiseled jaw.

“Well, you see, Mrs. Donovan and Miss …?” He turned to Sheridan with a faint lift of thick, dark brows, and she could have sworn those brown eyes deepened to dark chocolate—her new favorite—as they settled on her with a slow and easy smile.

“D-Donovan,” she managed with only a gulp, mouth as dry as the desert floor while she scuffed her lip with her teeth, “Miss Donovan.”

“Miss Donovan.” His voice was slow and deliberate with a tinge of husky as he emphasized her single status like she had, the low timbre of his voice doing funny things to her stomach. “I am Bill’s road manager, scout, and trainer, which means I’m not usually in the show unless I’m filling in for one of the Rough Riders.”

Sheridan’s mouth parted in awe.

He smiled, fixed on her face. “I actually oversee the staff for all planning, setup, and teardown for the Wild West show, traveling ahead to procure licenses, rental of ten to fifteen acres required for the show lot, the purchase of supplies like flour, meat, coffee, and other necessities, as well as setting up all publicity and advertisement. Everything from long-term scheduling to arranging for final cleanup before we move on to the next city.”

Dipping his head, he casually scratched the back of his neatly trimmed dark-brown hair with a sheepish smile, the bulge of a powerful arm more than evident beneath his white shirt with a black vest. “Of course, once the show is up and running, my main job is to fill in if needed and audition marksmen for the various acts in Bill’s show.” He slowly tore his gaze away to flash a smile Maggie’s direction before refocusing on Sheridan. “A job I take most seriously since Bill Cody is my uncle.”

Sheridan’s jaw dropped a full inch, gob-smacked not only by this man’s remarkable physique, but his connection to the legendary William “Buffalo Bill” Cody and one of the most popular touring shows in the country.

“Goodness—that’s quite a resume!” Maggie said with an impressed lift of brows, her smile as bright as the sun. She hesitated for the briefest of moments. “Do you mind if I ask how old you are, Mr. Morgan?”

“Not at all, ma’am. I’m twenty-eight and have worked for Uncle Bill for over six years now, ever since I graduated from college. Three years during his Scouts of the Plains show and the last three years in his Wild West show.” A hint of ruddiness crept up his neck, the first dent Sheridan noticed in his otherwise confident demeanor. “Even though Bill is my uncle, I like to think I’ve worked my way up in the organization, ma’am, becoming an integral part of one of the finest shows in the world.”

“I certainly concur with that, Mr. Morgan, so I applaud you on your obvious ambition and success. And auditioning and training as well? Mmm … sounds like you may be around a while, sir.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said with another slight tip of his hat to Maggie. “A solid month, as a matter of fact. Virginia City is centrally located between Nevada, California, Oregon, Idaho, Utah, and Arizona, so Bill chose it as our show hub.” His gaze shifted to Sheridan with a secret smile. “And I don’t mind saying, ladies, that right about now, I’m pretty happy about that.”

Heat swamped Sheridan’s face, making her wish she had more experience flirting with men, but then Uncle Finn and her brothers had certainly taken care of that. And heaven knows that although she’d tried and tried to practice on Jake, the bull-headed man never reciprocated!

“You know, ma’am,” Clay continued, thumbs hitched idly into the belt of a black tooled leather holster, complete with a custom-designed ivory-gripped Colt revolver, “fond as I am of Bill and the crew, I sure would appreciate some company occasionally for a fine dinner at the hotel or a show at your famous opera house here in Virginia City.”

He removed his hat and paused while he fingered the rim, eyes locked on Sheridan with a hopeful look that fluttered her stomach. “I was raised as the only boy in a family of eight girls, so I’d be lying if I didn’t say I miss gentler company from time to time, because it gets a mite lonely traveling with nothing but a troupe of swearin’, swillin’ Rough Riders.”

“But there are women in the show too, right?” Sheridan finally managed, her voice more than a bit breathy. “I read the Wild West show features cowgirls and female sharpshooters as well, not to mention Annie Oakley, of course—my absolute idol!”

Clay grinned, rotating his Stetson in his hands. “Yes, ma’am, there are a few gals in the show, but they tend to step out with their husbands who are also in the show, you know, which makes it pretty lonely for a single man not prone to alcohol or cards.”

He rubbed the back of his neck with a quick flash of teeth. “And as good of friends as we all are, I have no doubt Frank Butler would have my hide if I even thought about stepping out with Annie since she is, after all, his wife.” He offered a teasing grimace. “Nor am I inclined to cozy up to a woman who can shoot the edge of a playing card at thirty paces, snuff out a candle with a bullet, or shoot a lit cigarette from her husband’s lips.”

“Oh my goodness!” Sheridan gaped in awe, hand to her mouth.

Maggie chuckled. “Then it would seem that you are a very wise man, Mr. Morgan.”

He slid Maggie a wink. “Maybe, Mrs. Donovan, but ‘wise’ sure isn’t the cure for ‘lonely,’ ma’am.” He refocused his attention on Sheridan once again. “Unless, of course, this pretty young lady right here agrees to have dinner with me”—his gaze flicked back to Maggie—“chaperoned by you and your husband, of course, if you’d be gracious enough to accept.”

Sheridan caught her breath.

Maggie smiled. “As grateful as I am for the invite, Mr. Morgan, I’m afraid my husband wouldn’t feel the same way.” Her nose scrunched in sympathy as she offered Sheridan a commiserative smile before addressing Clay once more. “You see, when it comes to his sister, I’m afraid he’s rather overprotective …”

A groan lodged in Sheridan’s throat.

Clay raised his hand as if in an oath. “You and your husband have my word, Mrs. Donovan, that my intentions are purely honorable because I assure you my mama would tan my hide if they weren’t.”

A smile squirmed at the edge of Maggie’s lips. “That may be, sir, but … your mama isn’t here, and my husband is.”

Head bowed, he smiled. “No, that’s true, ma’am. My mama isn’t here”—the sparkle in his eyes reappeared as he glanced up—“but her brother—my Uncle Bill—is, and he tends to keep my mother well-informed on her son’s behavior, I assure you. Not to mention I’m pretty sure I could coax Annie and Frank to chaperone.”

What?! Sheridan tried to catch her breath again, but couldn’t—her tongue and throat were completely paralyzed along with the breath in her lungs. Dinner with Annie Oakley and Frank Butler??

Maggie appeared as stunned as Sheridan, eyes wide in surprise.