The Stafford Collection, Historical Western Romances (31 page)

“
You are, of ’course. Can’t go around riding horses in your condition,” Warren said, smiling down at her. She looked over at Brock who just shrugged innocently. With her child’s safety the foremost in her mind, she climbed up awkwardly with Brock’s help. He kissed her cheek, mindful of the others watching them closely, before he climbed down and hoped up on Troy effortlessly.

Sabrina felt the familiar chill run down her spine as she watched his smooth movements. He was magnificent and soon he would be hers, officially. She was not nervous about the wedding. After all, it was more a legality than
anything else. Warren, who was an attorney, was insistent upon it and Brock was willing. So what was holding back her enthusiasm? It was not the wedding that was making her nervous; it was the coming home part.

The lurch from the wagon wrenched her from her thoughts as she grabbed the seat frantically to keep from toppling into the dirt. She glared over at Warren, who was seated next to her driving the team. He held the reins tightly in his grasp as he guided the horses out of town. Yup, much safer.

Clinging to the rough wooden seat, Sabrina sat trying to keep her teeth from breaking as they clattered together from the bumpy ride. Warren had padded the seat with quilts but the thoughtful gesture did not help much. Her back ached and her butt was numb from the long slow journey. She looked up at Brock riding smoothly in front of her. He was riding Troy and Samuel was riding Justice. She was taken aback by the burst of anger that flowed through her. She has been more aggravated than usual as of late. She was not sure if it was from her body changing from the baby, like Thomas suggested, or if Brock was just more irritating lately.

After hours of travel, Sabrina was fit to be tied. She was used to being in control, whether it was riding a horse or driving a
team; it was too much for her to sit back and do nothing. Perhaps that was why she did not like trains. She was not in charge of her destiny.

After another sudden dip, she turned her bad temper on Thomas. She promised herself to slap him upside the head when she saw him next. She did not consider being jolted on a hard bench safer than riding a horse. It seemed as if Warren
was hitting every aperture in the road. She was tired, nauseous, her back ached, and she felt like crying.

“
Stop! Stop! Stop!”

“
What’s wrong? Are you okay?” Warren asked as Brock returned to check on the commotion.

“
What’s wrong?”

“
I need a break. Just get me down from here,” she said as Brock dismounted and lifted her easily down to the ground. Her stiff limbs complained and she walked a bit before sitting down in a clump of grass next to the side of the road. Brock offered her some water from his canteen and she took a sip even though she was still fuming. The water was surprisingly cool and Sabrina splashed some on her face, making her feel a little better.

“
Are you okay? Are you sick? Do you want something to eat?” Brock asked nervously.

Sabrina looked up at his handsome face and her heart softened seeing the worry in his eyes. He was the only man she ever met that had that effect on her.

“I just need a rest. My back hurts and I think I’ve jarred every tooth out of my head.”

“
I’m sorry, darling; we’ll rest as long as you need to.” She leaned into his arms letting him support her as he smoothed out her hair. Her hair was longer now; she hadn’t cut it since his “discovery.” The dark brown cascades fell past her shoulders in waves of brown. Brock knew she would have preferred the glorious copper-colored hair her mother, brother, and sister had, but he thought she was beautiful just the way she was.

Deciding to eat while they were
resting, Warren laid out the quilts he was using to pad the bench for Sabrina and she watched as the men dug into the picnic lunch heartily. Sabrina timidly picked up a biscuit to nibble on testing her stomach. The flaky layers melted against her tongue and she knew instantly that Alma had baked them.

Alma, Samuel
’s mother, had been their cook before her family’s death and her savior after. Her eyes filled with tears thinking of the no-nonsense woman. The enormity of returning home was starting to sink in. She had left so much behind, had hurt so many people with her choices. Brock reached out and took her hand, making her feel better. She smiled up at him, quickly brushing away the few tears that had escaped. If she had followed Warren’s plans for her, she never would have met Brock. Sometimes things were best left to fate.

After their meal, Sabrina refused to get back into the jostling wagon. Since Brock still refused to let her ride her own horse, she decided to walk. Brock followed her in protest.

“You can’t walk all the way to Montgomery.”

“
Safer than riding in that damn carriage. Almost shook my spine loose. I swear Warren hit every rut in the road. I offered to drive the team but he refused.”

Brock chuckled, he knew that Sabrina could drive the team better than Warren could but in her condition, it was not prudent. Trying to ease her ruffled feathers, he stepped closer and wrapped his arms around her from behind kissing her neck.

She swatted him on the arm as she squirmed loose, agitated. “It’s not funny,” she said, close to tears. All these emotions she was feeling lately were driving her crazy.

“
Tell you what, I’ll drive the team. Warren can ride Troy.”

She snorted as she raised an eyebrow.
“You think Warren can handle Troy?”

A slow crooked smile spread across Brock
’s face. “I don’t know but it’ll be fun to watch him try.”

Sabrina wiped her eyes and hugged him. He took her hand and guided her back to the wagon. She did not even complain when he lifted her up into the seat.

Brock’s skillful hands guided the horses on a much smoother trek. With barely a move of his wrist or strong arms, the horses responded quickly to his subtle commands.

Sabrina amused herself by watching Warren struggle to control Troy. A
little farther down the road he gave up, handing the reins to Samuel and switched to Justice. The remaining trip went smoothly for everyone.

Chapter 4

Sabrina’s small caravan finally made it to the long winding driveway that would lead them to the manor house. They passed under the tall wrought iron arbor proudly proclaiming the name Montgomery. She took a deep breath trying to steady her nerves.

As the house finally came into view Sabrina grasped Brock
’s arm for him to stop. He gently pulled the reins to slow the horses and both of them sat there staring in shock.

Brock was amazed due to the enormity of the house. It was a
three-story yellow Victorian that would perfectly meld into any street up north. It was the largest house he had ever seen.

Sabrina was surprised because it looked exactly as she remembered from her
childhood, even down to the perfect hue of yellow. She had always loved the light sunshiny color of her home. She had always signified yellow with happiness.

He glanced down at his
bride-to-be, who was still clutching his arm, as a tear slipped down her face. Securing the reins, he pulled her up against him holding her close as she turned her head into his neck. He kissed her cheek as the significance of the situation hit him. How could a girl born into wealth and living in a house such as this end up sleeping and working in a stable? Fate had a wry sense of humor.

Warren and Samuel waited nearby letting the couple have their moment. After a while, Sabrina reluctantly pulled away to turn
toward her brother.

“
How? I saw it burned to the ground. It looks just exactly the same as before.”

Warren smiled
wryly. “It wasn’t easy. I had to locate the original architect and he came down from Boston to rebuild it. Wait until you see the inside.”

Sabrina didn
’t know if she could handle any further surprises that day. Taking a deep breath, she nodded to Brock and he set the carriage in motion with a flick of his wrist. The closer they got to their final destination the more unsettled Sabrina felt. Her gaze traveled over the land taking in the great oak tree and rolling hills. Turning to Brock, she grasped his hand tightly, borrowing some of his strength. She was home.

There was a small greeting party as they rode up to the porch. She was happy to see her cousin Riley and then Alma, Samuel
’s mother. The big, sturdy black woman was as tall, if not taller, than the men around her. Sabrina, ignoring Brock’s protest, scampered down as carefully as she could and turned to face Alma, not sure quite what to say after so many years.

“
Don’t just stand there like a bump on a log. Get over here and hug my neck,” Alma stated boldly.

Spent physically and emotionally from the long
journey, Sabrina wept openly in Alma’s arms as she fell into them. Alma held her tightly and patted her back for comfort.

Alma
’s all-knowing eyes looked up at Brock who had moved to be close by. She looked at the concern on his face and smiled at him as she released Sabrina.

“
You must be Brock.”

“
Yes, ma’am,” Brock said, taking off his hat letting his dark wavy hair spring free as he nodded to her. She grinned even wider if that was possible.

“
Sabrina needs to rest. Take her up to her room and see that she gets it. The men will take care of your baggage and horses.”

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 the 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 outgrown. 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
Samuel’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 Troy 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 gray 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.