The Stafford Collection, Historical Western Romances (12 page)

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B
rock was speechless, Will had transformed into a girl in front of his eyes. He watched dumbfounded as the girl grabbed her shirt flaps and held them against her chest. He stepped in front of her, blocking her from the sight of others.

Sabrina’s growing breasts had become more noticeable as she’d grown older.  She kept them lightly bound and usually wore a vest or jacket to conceal them.

Apparently, in shock, Brock was still staring at her chest as she tried to redo the ruined buttons with her hand bleeding all over everything. 

“You okay, Will?” Thomas called out in concern.

“Yup, fine!” Sabrina said, still in panic mode. 

Finally coming to his senses Brock reached out for Sabrina.  “I saw a stream nearby,” he called, “we’ll be right back.”  He quickly moved her deeper into the woods. 

Her arm hurt where he gripped it. She was worried he was just making the stream part up. However, there was a stream nearby, and Brock stopped when he reached it.  He quickly took off his leather vest and undid his shirt. Sabrina’s eyes widened in panic and she took a step backwards.

Brock looked disgusted.  “I’m not going to hurt you.  Your shirt is ruined; you can wear mine and we’ll use yours to bind your hand unless you want to bleed to death.”  He turned around so his back faced her and held out his arm.  His shirt dangled from his hand.

Sabrina stared at his back in surprise. He had several scars on his back she had not noticed before and Sabrina felt an impulse to reach out and trace them with her finger. She felt light headed, maybe from the blood loss. Shaking her head to clear it, she regained focus.

Thoughts swirled through Brock’s head. He was angry. He had been duped all this time. Here he was thinking something was morally wrong with him and feeling guilty, and she was a girl all the time. A part of him was relieved. A second part wondered
why the hell his brain was slower to catch on than his body? Looking back, there were definitely signs; he had missed them all. Yes, he was angry all right but he didn’t know if he was more mad at her or himself.

Practical as ever, Sabrina undid the bindings around her chest and put her blood-stained shirt back on. “We can use my body wrapping to bandage my hand,” Sabrina said. Makes no sense to get blood on it, too.” She held out the binding material to him with her good hand. Brock turned around, nodding; it was  much better material to use as a bandage than her shirt. Sabrina bit her lip. Not wanting to look up at his face, her eyes dropped to his smooth bare chest. If his back was nice his chest was exquisite; she looked down quickly as he moved towards her.

Taking the bandage material from her, he knelt at the edge of the creek and guided her down next to him.  He took her hand and rinsed it well in the cool water using his deft fingers to rub off the dried blood surrounding the wound.  Sabrina hissed but refused to complain.  It hurt like the dickens but she knew it was necessary. 

Removing her hand from the water, he quickly wrapped and bound the wound just tight enough to help stop the bleeding.  Brock refused to look at any other part of her except her hand and she swore his cheeks had a pink tint. Sabrina smiled in spite of herself.  If the situation wasn’t so serious it would have been funny.

Standing up, he pulled her to her feet and again turned his back offering her his shirt.  Sabrina discarded her old one and took his, pulling it on gratefully.  She awkwardly buttoned it with one hand but she’d be damned if she was going to ask him for any help.  She looked up at him as he stood guard with his back to her. She wondered if he was getting impatient but Brock stood like a statue, staring straight ahead not moving at all.  Finally finishing the last button, she cleared her throat nervously. The shirt billowed out around her since it was so large. It hung down to her knees.  She thought about trying to tuck it in but with her bad hand it would be difficult, plus it was too much material to smooth out.

Brock turned and nodded his approval, not meeting her eyes. He picked up his vest and her ruined shirt. He put the vest on wearing nothing underneath.  Sabrina almost swooned at the sight of his muscular arms and bare chest peeking out from the
opening in the vest. She was only feeling faint from blood loss, she told herself, following him back through the woods to the others.

Sabrina was worried by Brock’s silence. She knew he was angry from the clenching of his jaw and dark stare when he did look at her. She felt guilty for lying to him. He had taken her in, given her a home and it was all based on lies. She would have much preferred him to yell at her than to treat her with stony silence. Her heart ached for him.

Brock was pleased to see the other men had done as they were ordered.  They had even managed to retrieve some of the outlaws’ horses and load up the dead and wounded on their backs. The others would have to walk.  Brock nodded his approval.  He whistled for Troy, and the red horse soon came through the woods into the clearing. Sabrina went to the horse automatically.  She held onto its reins to tether it as well as help support herself.  She had eaten nothing since morning and the lack of food, amongst all else, left her feeling out of sorts.  Brock had not said a word to her about her deception and that scared her.  She did not know him well enough to gauge his true feelings.  Sabrina guessed that the silence would only continue while they were with the others.  She thought about her reward poster that he had seen.  Would he turn her in?

Brock sighed. He had Thomas ride ahead back to the train to alert them of the capture.  The Pinkerton detectives should be there by now and he wanted to pass the men off to them.  He did not have an adequate place to keep so many men. He was getting a headache.  Pinching the bridge of his nose, he thought about his other problem.

Will was a girl, no, a woman from the looks of things.  He had always thought of himself as being extra sharp and tuned in to his surroundings; how in the hell could he have missed that?  The boy, err girl lived with him for Pete’s sake! He should have known. Thinking back to the day they were cleaning drapes he remembered her sparkling green eyes and lilting laughter. He never remembered seeing Will’s eyes before that; he always had his hat pulled down low over his face. Groaning as the pieces came together in his mind, he forced himself to pay attention to the work at hand.

He double-checked the bindings of the men who would be walking and he intentionally took the rear to keep an eye on the
troop. Will would ride with him. He wondered about her real name. With her hand injured she would have had trouble controlling a horse even if they did have one to spare.  Plus, he did not want to let her out of his sight until they had a little chat.

As the others headed out, he turned back to Troy and Will. She was talking quietly to his horse.  Troy’s ears were perked up, intent on every word and Brock sighed.  Apparently, Troy had known her secret all along. 

“You’re riding with me,” Brock said in his most authoritative voice.

Sabrina looked
up at him and nodded.  She was relieved when he mounted first and then pulled her up behind him. Well, she was relieved at first.  Brock nudged Troy with his knees and, used to being in front, the horse moved quickly to catch up with the others.  To keep from falling off, her arms automatically encircled Brock’s lean waist.

Brock swallowed as the warm lithe body pressed against his back.  He looked down at the small hands holding onto his waist and frowned as he noticed fresh blood seeping through the bandage. The cut was deep and he was concerned about whether she’d have full use of her hand after it healed.  He needed to get her back home so he could sew the wound closed.

He relived the terror he felt when the man had used Will as a shield.  He was very surprised and impressed by the boy’s, no… the girl’s bold move. He had a hard time accepting the realization that it was not a boy but a woman who, not only pulled off the neat move, but also took out one of the outlaws with a single shot.

He had not had much luck with women. Most of the women in his past had their own agenda to fill.  He learned quickly to not be taken in by a pretty face or simpering smile. In fact he did his best to stay away from them whenever possible. This had not usually  been too difficult, given the scarcity of women in the West. Now he had one right underneath his nose. How could he have been so blind?

Sabrina was not feeling well.  Her hand hurt like the dickens.  She could feel the wetness against her skin and she knew she was still bleeding. She felt lightheaded and the swaying horse did not help matters. To steady herself she laid her head against the coolness of Brock’s leather vest and closed her eyes.

Brock felt her body pressed against his and gritted his teeth as he tried to concentrate on his surroundings. Yes, they had captured eight men and he hoped that was the full count.

In alarm he felt the girl slump against his back and he felt her arms loosen around his waist. He grabbed onto her wrists so that she wouldn’t slide off as he brought Troy to a stop. Pivoting around he grasped her waist pulling her onto his lap sideways.

She was pale and her eyes fluttered open wearily.  He sat her up and pulled out his canteen to force her to drink. Sabrina took a couple of swallows.  Feeling her stomach heave, she pushed it away.  She did not want to get sick on Troy. 

Brock gazed down at her with concern.  “You need to drink,” he insisted.

She shook her head
no, which made her even dizzier. “I haven’t eaten much since yesterday; I’m just a bit dizzy.  I’ll be okay.”

Brock growled at her stupidity and reached into his
saddlebag with his free arm. Pulling out some beef jerky, he held out a small piece to her.  As she opened her mouth to refuse the food, he pushed it between her teeth. 

“You don’t have to swallow; it’s salty which will help with the blood loss. Just chew it.”

Sabrina did as she was told, for once, and was surprised when she did feel a little better.  He gave her another sip of water as she continued to chew on the meat. It did help her churning stomach. Brock situated her in front of him, this time with her legs now straddling the saddle as he set Troy once again in motion.

They caught up to the slow moving caravan a short time later. Sabrina was reclining, using Brock’s strength to support her. Brock heard a commotion from the front; Thomas had returned with the train personnel. He moved Troy forward and, explaining quickly to the detectives, he turned over the prisoners and the payroll that was discovered in two of the saddlebags. He instructed Thomas to wait and collect the reward money and distribute it amongst the posse.  He then left for home to care for the girl.

Chapte
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S
abrina awoke with her hand throbbing even more, if that was possible.  She was surprised to see that it was evening.  The sky was dark outside the window and she wondered how long she had slept.  Her mind was fuzzy.  The last thing she remembered was Brock helping her onto Troy.

Thinking of Brock she looked around, finding him sitting in a chair near the bed. It suddenly dawned on her that she was lying on his bed.  She was glad it was too dark to see her blush. She wondered if she could make it up to her bunk in the loft and attempted to sit up.  The room swam and she collapsed back down on the bed.  Brock was at her side in an instant. 

“Don’t try to get up.”

He sure was bossy, Sabrina thought, as he again made her drink.  Taking a few sips of water with Brock’s help, she used her good hand to hold her head still
since the room seemed to be spinning.  Holding her head that way helped hide her face from Brock. It was awkward to say the least; she had no idea what to say so she stayed quiet.

“I take it Will isn’t your real name?”  Brock said after a while.

“My middle name,” she said wearily. She really didn’t feel well and told him so.

Brock sighed. Women were so difficult. He sat for a while next to her. Soon she was sighing in her sleep. Shaking his head, Brock settled down for a few winks too.

Sabrina was having a good dream; she was on a picnic with her family.  They were sitting on the hill above her house, and she had just taken a big bite out of her slice of watermelon.  She could feel the juice running down her chin.  Her nose twitched as she picked up an unusual scent, and she turned toward her father to ask him what that smell was.  A shadow loomed from above, and, when she looked up, she saw her father hanging from a tree branch, swaying in the breeze.  She looked around to find that her sister and mother were also dead, lying motionless on the ground.  Warren sat across from her, glaring. He handed her his hankie and commanded her to wipe her face off.  When she looked down at the now damp handkerchief, it was covered in blood.

She sat up screaming.

Brock ran into the house as Sabrina became fully awake. The nightmares were one of the reasons why she didn’t want to stay in Mr. Swanson’s home. She didn’t want him to know that she was a freak.  The nightmares stopped for the most part when she’d moved in with Brock.  Perhaps deep down inside she felt she was safe with him or maybe that she could trust him.

He knelt down by the bed and was surprised when she threw her arms around his neck, hugging him tightly. Not knowing what to do, he patted her back awkwardly. She pulled back, an apologetic look on her face. 

“I have bad memories,” she whispered.

Brock nodded understandingly. He went outside and came back a few seconds later with a basket of biscuits.  He set it on the bed next to her and brought her over a cup of water.  Sabrina ate greedily.  She was so hungry. Without asking, she knew that the basket was from Mac. She would know his biscuits anywhere.  He always put butter on top when he baked them.  He had also sent a couple slabs of country ham to go with it.  After eating her fill, she sat back, leaning against the wall.

“Thanks, I guess you’re pretty mad at me, huh?”

Brock barked out a laugh. “Why would you think that? Maybe because you have lied to me all this time. You have lied to the town. You disobeyed me and followed me when I told you not to…”

“What?”  Sabrina yelled, hopping to her feet.  “You have no right to intrude into my life and order me around.  I can take care of myself. In fact, I saved your ass yesterday if I remember correctly. Leading a bunch of untrained men into a battle.  What were you thinking?”  

She was still dizzy and she felt a draft across her legs. Glancing down, she realized she didn’t have any pants on.  She shrieked and grabbed the blanket from the bed and covered herself.

“Where are my pants?” 

Brock tried not to grin.  She was really pissed. Her hair was in disarray and her green eyes were throwing off sparks as she confronted him.

“Forgive me, I thought you would be more comfortable while you slept.”

Sabrina growled as she stomped over to the ladder leading to the loft. Brock was about to object but closed his mouth as she anticipated his rebuke and shot daggers at him with her eyes.

She awkwardly climbed to the top and pulled out a fresh pair of pants.  Struggling into the pants with one hand, she sat down on her pallet, surprised at her exhaustion from those simple tasks.  She still needed to change her shirt since she was wearing Brock’s from yesterday.  She wearily crawled over and looked around in her meager supplies for her extra binding material.  It was gone. She looked down at her injured hand and noticed the fresh clean bandage. Bastard.

Gritting her teeth, she switched shirts anyway, throwing his over the edge and onto the floor below. She couldn’t locate her vest and, sighing, she made her way slowly back down the ladder.  Spotting her vest thrown over a chair, she grabbed it and threw it on. Slapping her hat on her head she headed toward the door.

“Where are you going?”

“Out.”

“You don’t have a horse,” Brock reminded her.

“I’ll walk,” she muttered, opening the door and slamming it shut behind her. Brock wondered about his sanity as he, too, went out the door.  She had taken two steps into the yard when Brock’s voice stopped her.

“We need to talk, Sabrina.”

She stopped, closing her eyes tightly. The reward poster. She had forgotten. Turning slowly, she confronted him.

“What do you want from me? Do you want the stupid reward?” she asked, her eyes narrowing.

Brock could not answer her.  He did not know the answer.  Something about her essence begged for him to protect her, to take care of her. He had felt it even before he knew she was a female. The urge was ten times stronger now. He had sat next to her while she slept and made sure she was comfortable. It was as if life did not exist for him before he met her. It hurt him to no end that, even now, she did not trust him with the truth.

As if all the energy had been drained from her body, she sank to the dirt in despair. She did not know what to do next.  She always had a plan, always had a goal. Uncertainty was new to her and she did not like it.  She was not in control of the situation and she was worried about the outcome.  Brock held all the cards.

Brock came up and stood in front of her.  He held out his hand and she took it reluctantly as he pulled her to her feet. He took it as a slight sign of trust, and he guided her toward the barn.  It was more airy in the barn than the house and she always felt more comfortable there.

Sitting down on a hay bale Sabrina nervously picked at the loose threads on her bandage, not wanting to look at him. Brock sat on the ground in front of her.  “You’re Sabrina Lovett?”

Sabrina glared at him defiantly as she lifted her chin and stared at him head on. “I am Sabrina Willodene Montgomery Lovett. I am of age; Warren has no authority over me. I can do as I wish.”

Brock raised an eyebrow. “And you wish to be here working like an animal in a livery when you have a great deal of money in your name.”

“It’s not my money; it is my parent’s money and they were killed for it. Working in the stables was an honest living. I told Mac I’d help him
today,” she reminded him angrily. “I need to go.”

“You are injured; you need to rest.”

“I have two hands,” she reminded him.

Brock laughed, “You are the most ornery woman I’ve ever met. You just expect to go back and work like nothing has happened.”

“Nothing has happened,” she retorted.  “I’m the same person I was yesterday morning. You’re the one who changed, not me.”

“You lied to me and to the town. You said you were a boy. I don’t think Mr. Swanson would be too pleased to find out he had a girl working for him.”

Sabrina snorted, “I never told anyone I was a boy.  They just assumed and were too dense to notice any difference. Don’t blame me for your own ignorance.”

Brock’s eyes flashed as he grabbed her and pulled her close. “Yes, I was blind but now I see.  And I cannot and will not go back to pretending to be blind. You are an amazingly beautiful
woman.  You deserve so much better than cleaning up horse crap.”

Sabrina laughed aloud and he released her in surprise. “I’m supposed to do what? Dress up in pretty gowns and paste a fake smile on my face and walk down the street like I own it---because I can? No, that is not me; it never was. That’s why I’m still alive,” Sabrina said softly, tears coming to her eyes.

“I survived the attack because I wasn’t there.  I snuck off early that morning and went fishing with my friend, Samuel. By the time we got back it was too late. My mother was lying dead in the yard, my father was hanging from a tree and my sister, Lydia…”  Sabrina stopped as a sob escaped her throat.  “Lydia was shot in the back and then raped by two men till she was cold---while I watched. Samuel saved my life that day.  He saved my life, but a piece of me died. It was as if I wasn’t whole anymore. I don’t know if I’ll ever be whole again.” She looked up at him, her bright green eyes darkened with despair.

Brock pulled her into his arms and held her.  She wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her face in his shoulder. It felt so good being held like that. Yes, she had hugged her family and Samuel lots of times but this was…different. It felt like she was adrift in the sea and he was a rope. A strong rope keeping her tethered to land when all else would be lost.

She pulled away embarrassed, as she wiped her wet face and sniffed. “Thanks,” she said smiling wryly.

Brock sighed. “Well, I guess I’ll see if Widow Hawkins still has a room available. And if so, one of us can move into it.”

She hit him on the arm with her good hand. “I can’t afford a room at the Widow Hawkins and I sure can’t afford the rent on the house. I’m not moving.”

“One of us has to move. If anyone else finds out you’re a girl it would ruin your reputation,” Brock said, aghast.

Sabrina laughed again.  “If you haven’t noticed, I don’t care about my reputation.  It’s not like it can get any worse. ‘Sides I’ve gotten used to the fact that you snore. Now it’s kinda soothing to me. ”

It was Brock’s turn to blanch. “I don’t snore.”

Sabrina rolled her eyes. “Brock, why did you ask me to move in with you in the first place?”

Brock shrugged, “You were down and out and had no place to go. For some reason I felt obligated to care for you.”

“And now that you’ve found out I’m a woman, don’t you think I need more care?” She leaned close to him and looked into his eyes. He reached up, gently grasping her face with his hands, as he drew her closer.

They both heard the carriage at the same time and pulled away guiltily. Brock hopped up and went out to see who had ridden into the yard.