Chase the Moon: A Historical Romance (3 page)

Sabrina walked up the porch steps stopping to look at the menacing iron doorknob with a key hole. She hesitated, this was different, the previous knob was copper and had no lock. Back when she was innocent and her family ignorantly believed that people were more good than bad, locks were not needed. Brock waited patiently next to her, his arm around her waist to offer comfort. She lifted her trembling hand up to turn the knob. A soft click was felt more than heard as she pushed open the heavy oak. The heavy door swung open fully as it glided on the oiled hinges; still she was hesitant to enter. It was as if she was waiting to hear her mother’s soothing voice welcoming her home.

Brock, sensing her distress took her hand and led her inside. Not trusting herself to speak, Sabrina led Brock over to the winding stairway not having the spirit to explore the house just yet. Coming to first step Brock scooped her up in his arms ignoring her protest. He carried her easily up the flight of stairs. At the top, Sabrina wiggled to be put down but he ignored her and she reluctantly directed him to the duplicate of the room she had as a child.

He laid her down on the double bed and looked around the large room. Spying a water basin in the corner, he brought her a wet cloth so she could wash some of the travel grime from her face and hands. When she was done, Brock used it to cleanse himself. Sabrina was exhausted. It was strange how tired one could get from sitting on their ass for days. Not wanting to dirty the bed with her dusty clothes, she pushed herself to the edge and stood up fighting with the tiny buttons of her traveling dress.

Brock sensing her plight came over to help her remove them. He reluctantly stopped at her chemise and under garments and pulled back the covers. Not having the energy to argue she climbed in and was asleep in seconds.

As Sabrina slept Brock looked around the large room. It was almost as large as the entire home he grew up in. He heard a movement outside in the hallway and moved to open the door. Samuel winked at him as he set their luggage down in the hallway.

“You want a tour?”

“I’d love one.” Brock said smiling up at the darker man.

Samuel showed him all of the bedrooms on the top level as well as the staircase to walk up to the attic. The attic was huge; it ran the whole length of the house. Brock looked around at the mostly empty space. There were a couple of crates here and there but not much else.

As if reading his mind Samuel spoke up. “Used to be full of stuff, boxes, furniture, toys that the children had out grown. It was all lost in the fire.” He said sadly.

Brock nodded feeling the sadness of the place. Even though it was a majestic house. It didn’t feel like a home.

“I don’t understand it. How could Sabrina just give up all of this?” Brock said gesturing to the green fields and landscape outside the window as well as the house.

“Wasn’t her choice, Warren sent her away after the fire. He was planning on selling the land and moving north permanently until she disappeared. He almost went crazy with despair. We all did. He then decided that he would rebuild it, for her, in case she ever came back home.

I don’t know what your plans are for the future but this is your home. You are welcome to stay here. I know my mama would be tickled to chase after a youngin’ again.”

Brock blushed thinking about his child growing inside Sabrina. He didn’t believe that he could love her any more, he was wrong.

“Still lots more to see.”Samuel said breaking the spell as Brock followed him back down the stairs.

It was easy to tell from Samuels’s quick tour of the estate that his favorite part was the land. The two stopped by the large stable to get some horses for the rest of the tour. Brock quickly checked on Thor and Justice and was glad to see that they had been brushed down and fed. Letting them rest from their long journey Samuel suggested he ride Watson, Warren’s dappled grey stallion. Brock nodded and went to work. Quickly and efficiently he saddled the large spirited horse.

“’Tis a shame. Warren does not ride him as he should. All the hands pitch in to keep the stock in shape. Be warned, Watson can be a handful sometimes.”

Brock nodded pulling up the slack in the reins. He learned from experience not to discount anyone’s advice. He watched as Samuel climbed on a large black horse and introduced him as Sassafras.

Brock grinned, “Odd name for a stallion.”

“You’ll have to ask Sabrina about that. She named him.”

At the mention of Sabrina, Brock’s face dropped a bit. He hoped this tour wouldn’t last too long. He didn’t want her waking up in a panic with him gone. He nodded to Samuel and let him lead the way.

H
ours later, back at Montgomery, Sabrina awoke watching the fading light out of the window. She looked around for Brock and not finding him, she climbed out of bed to dress. She didn’t have many clothes that fit her growing body so she reluctantly put on the dusty one from her trip. She made her way down the stairs and outside.

The sunset was spectacular. The pinks, reds, blues and purple stretched across the sky. The only thing blocking the brilliant view was the oak tree. Taking a deep breath for courage, she walked over to it.

Sabrina stood in the yard staring up at the great tree. A cool breeze swept past her whispering in the leaves. The swaying branches mimicked the movement of her father’s body as it hung from one of the massive limbs. She felt wetness on her face and reached up to wipe away a tear that had slipped down her cheek.

“I thought about cutting it down.” A quiet voice spoke from behind her.

Sabrina turned to find Warren standing there holding his hat in his hand as he chose to stare at the ground.

“I have many memories of this tree. I remember momma scolding me for climbing too high in the branches, and papa pushing me on the old wooden swing. Not all of them are bad. I’m glad you didn’t.”

She turned into his arms hugging him for strength as they both cried for their loss. Sabrina sniffed pulling away still holding tightly onto Warren’s hand for support. Her eyes flickered back up and she briefly returned her gauze to the newly budding boughs outlined by the colorful light. Life does go on, even though it’s hard.

Hearing horses in the distance Sabrina and Warren both turned to watch Samuel and Brock ride up to meet them in the yard. Brock dismounted and came up to give her a shy kiss on her cheek. Unabashed she pulled him down to kiss his lips before kissing his neck as well.

“Umm your sweaty.” she whispered mischievously licking the salt off her lips.

“Samuel gave me a tour of the ranch.”

She turned to glare at her friend. “You could have waited for me.” She accused.

“Well.. I just thought.. In your condition…”

The glare got harsher as Samuel started to squirm.

“I’M NOT AN INVALID I’M HAVING A BABY!”

“Sorry ‘rina, Brock said you couldn’t ride.” Samuel said smoothly passing off her anger to Brock.

“I’ll take care of the horses.” Samuel gallantly offered planning his escape.

“Well at least I can give you a tour of the house.” She grumbled as Brock and Samuel glanced at each other daring the other to speak. She glared at them both before grabbing Brock’s hand, squeezing it tighter than need be, leading him to the house leaving Warren to follow with a smile.

The front door opened up into a great room. To the left was a hallway leading to the master and guest bedrooms and the stairs to the upper floor. Taking the time to look around the room for the first time since she arrived, Sabrina became overwhelmed. Her gaze took in the large portrait over the fireplace she walked over slowly as if in a trance.

The painting was of the entire family. Looking up into her parents face for the first time in years brought tears to her eyes. In the picture her parents were young and smiling. The artist had captured every brilliant detail in color from her mother’s brilliant red locks to her father’s olive complexion and almost black hair. Below them were their three children. Warren and Lydia both red like their mother and Sabrina with her waist length dark hair right in the middle of everyone.

Sabrina looked at her three year old self in the portrait. She felt Brock wrap his arm around her waist for comfort and gratefully leaned into his side.

“How?”

“I had a photograph with me in Boston. I commissioned an artist to paint it from that. I described the colors as best I could remember them.”

“It’s perfect.” She said with tears running down her cheek. Brock wiped them away in concern.

“Are you okay love?”

Sabrina nodded sniffing. She had put this off long enough.

“Perhaps, I should take over the tour.” Warren said patting her shoulder. As he moved to show them the grand piano he had imported from France crouching in the corner.

The piano reminded Sabrina of Ted Roberts and a chill stole down her spine as she tried to ignore it. Sabrina loved playing music when she was younger and Ted had become obsessed with her and ended up killing her family to keep them from coming between them.

As if reading her mind Brock hugged her tighter. This was much harder than she thought it would be. Next came the library which Warren used as his office when he was home. He was an attorney and travelled most of the time with the circuit Court Judge.

The kitchen was next. Brock was astonished by the large wooden counter and cabinets. It had two stoves and a built in water pump over the sink.

“I made a bit of a change.” Warren confessed opening up a door at the end of the kitchen. Sabrina was awed by the small room Warren had added on next to it. Inside was a porcelain, claw foot, tub large enough for two. Caught up in her day dreams she barely paid attention as Warren explained to Brock it was set up to drain outside when the stopper was pulled.

He headed back the way they came to show them the other rooms down stairs. The large dining room fascinated Brock. Growing up most of his meals were served sitting on the ground. There were two bedrooms on that level. One was his and the other one he had Alma set up for Brock’s parents. He placed them on the main floor due to Jonathan’s injury. Brock thanked him for being so considerate.

Warren led them upstairs pointing out the other rooms and the attic. Sabrina sadly walked around the almost empty room. The attic ran the entire length of the large home and she remembered her and Lydia playing hide and seek in its depths. Her eyes burned with unshed tears and she took a deep breath to calm herself. Yes, she was home but it was not the same.

Brock sensing her distress took her hand and lead her back downstairs. They could hear Alma in the kitchen getting ready for supper and she went to join her.

“Need any help?”

Alma looked up from lighting the fire in the stove. “I dunno ’bout that. Do you plan on setting the curtains on fire again?”

“No ma’am, actually Brock has been giving me lessons. He says I’m getting pretty good.”

“Hmff, men will say anything to get what they want. But you can help by cleaning those chickens.” She said with a knowing look at Sabrina’s belly.

Sabrina looked over to the side board and frowned at the four dead chickens lying on the table feathers and all. She was thankful Alma had rung their necks she wasn’t sure if she was up to that task. Nodding to her herself for courage, she grasped the first one by the neck and carefully started to pluck out the large tail feathers one by one. A shadow moved next to her and she watched as Alma picked up another one taking large handfuls of feathers from the wings and working her way down. Sabrina switched her method to match Alma’s and was pleased to see her progress as the tender pinkish skin was revealed.

Alma moved away without a sound and returned to the stove to start the water boiling for dumplings.

A young black woman entered thru the back door and nodded somewhat nervously to Sabrina.

“Just in time.” Alma said welcoming the newcomer. “Jasmine, this is Sabrina. Jasmine lives in town, Warren hired her to help me out with all the company coming.”

Sabrina smiled at her. “Nice to meet you Jasmine.”

“Thank you Miss Lovett.”

“Oh no please call me Sabrina. I couldn’t tell you the last time I’ve been called Miss.” She said with a twinkle in her eye as she thought back to all the years she spent pretending to be a boy.

Jasmine joined Sabrina at the table. She held in her hand a long sharp knife with a thin blade. Sabrina watched as she quickly cut off the head and feet and skillfully split the chicken down the middle. Seeing the birds intestines spill out Sabrina’s stomach lurched and she hurried outside to vomit.

She moved to the outside pump to cleanse her mouth and wash her face off.

Once she felt settled she returned back to the kitchen where Alma immediately put her to work at the stove making hoe cakes instead.

Hoe cakes were Sabrina’s favorite. She wondered if Alma knew that or just liked them herself. She remembered the first time she tasted one. Her father had told them stories about the civil war, about the soldiers’ plight and lack of food and equipment. He told them how the soldiers used their trench shovels to cook over the fire. They would mix up a thick cornbread batter and pour it onto blade. Holding it over the open blaze it would bake into a handy pancake like bread they could hold with their hand and eat or save for later.

Encouraged by her children her mother mixed up some up batter and fried it in her iron skillet with a bit of bacon grease. The first bite into the crispy concoction and Sabrina was hooked. She was glad to be making them herself now instead of dealing with the chickens.

In the mean time Warren pulled Brock into his office. Offering him a cigar, Brock declined.

“I’m very grateful that you took up my offer to come to Montgomery.”

“It was Sabrina’s decision. They are her demons and it is up to her to confront them or not.”

“Nevertheless, it is good for her to be home. I would like to request, for proprieties sake, that until the wedding you sleep separately. I would not want to affront any of the guests.”

Brock snorted as his already tense body tightened. “First of all, it saddens me that you would care about other’s opinions over that of your own sister. Secondly, we are wed under Comanche law, which you may not uphold but I do. Third, Sabrina does not sleep well alone, she has night terrors. If you want any of your guests getting rest you may want to reconsider your request. Not to mention the fact that it should be quite obvious to everyone that we have been together since she is carrying my child.