The Stafford Collection, Historical Western Romances (9 page)

Spotting her at her retreat in the corner, he motioned with his head for her to come. Feeling like she was being led to the gallows, she got up and followed him out the door. Troy was waiting outside, and she went up and hugged him, glad that he was safe and not in her care that night.

“You can ride behind me,” Brock informed her. She watched him mount up and he bent down, offering her a hand as he practically lifted her and swung her behind him. She sat there for a second, unsure of what to do with her hands.  She wondered if she should hold onto the saddle behind her and tried it as Troy turned to head out, but it was awkward.

Brock looked back at her and told her to hang on. Nervously, she placed her hands on his sides.

An electrical current seemed to run along his spine as Will held onto him. Frowning at his reaction, he nudged Troy into a gallop.  The storm was moving in fast and he wanted to get to shelter before the rain hit.

The house was in sight when the sky opened up. A frog choker, her father used to call them. She instinctively grasped onto Brock tighter and hid her face in his back to block off some of the rain. Sabrina was happy to be drenched as long as there was no lightning in sight. Water she could take. Brock rode toward the barn and Sabrina instantly hopped off and ran to open the barn door so Troy could seek shelter.

Guiding him into the barn Brock dismounted and went to light a lantern as Will started releasing Troy’s saddle straps.  Once they were free, Brock lifted the heavy saddle from the horse and placed it over a railing. Will stripped off the soaked blanket and hung it up to dry, before she and Brock used their hands to wick away the water from Troy’s coat so he wouldn’t catch a chill. After securing Troy in his stall and settling him, Sabrina and Brock stood awkwardly, both remembering the last time they were in this barn.

Sabrina couldn’t help but look up at Brock and smile. “Did you get rid of all the spiders?”

“Yup, no spiders,” Brock replied with a grin.

“Beat ya to the house,” Sabrina called out slipping through the door into the rain and leaving Brock to wrestle with the large barn door in the wind. Her lungs burned as she hurried as fast as
she could, which was difficult through the darkness and the muck sucking at her feet.

She breathlessly opened the door to the house and held it for Brock who was surprisingly close behind her.

“I won,” she said, unable to resist as he arrived lantern and all. He was soaked to the skin. And Sabrina almost laughed out loud. She would have if he hadn’t been glaring at her like that. Maybe things would be okay after all.

“You cheated,” Brock retorted, placing the flickering light on the metal
stovetop. He turned around, removing his vest and laying it on a chair. Next, he pulled his shirttails out of his pants and began unbuttoning it. Sabrina stood shivering in the darkness as she watched Brock undress. She watched as he removed his shirt, his damp skin glowed in the dim light like a mythical god.

“What are you doing?”

He looked at her oddly. “I’m trying to get warm. You should undress too ‘fore you catch pneumonia.”

Sabrina was glad for the darkness to hide her pallid skin as she cringed at her stupidity. Of course changing clothes was the best option but she only had one set and told him so. Nodding, he tossed her a clean shirt of his, and she took it, scampering up the ladder and into the loft to change.

“Strange boy,” he muttered to himself as he changed into some long johns. He normally didn’t wear long johns but since he had company now, he sure as heck couldn’t go prancing around in the nude.

Shaking his head he set about fixing supper as he waited for Will to come back down. He decided a stew would be good on a rainy night like tonight. He quickly lit the stove and put some water on to boil. He added some rabbit meat he had dried earlier and cut up some potatoes and carrots. He left the pot to boil and went over to relax on his bed.

Sabrina eyed the pallet in the corner of the loft. Apparently, he had suspected she would accept his invitation. Normally, this would make her angry, but she just had too much on her mind to care right now. She was cold. She quickly removed her wet shirt and wrappings. She then put on Brock’s shirt in case he came up the ladder. She never took her eyes off the top rung while she changed. Dropping her britches, she hung her clothes on the edge of the loft, hoping they would dry quicker that way. She risked a peek downstairs and watched as Brock chopped the vegetables expertly and settled down on his bed.

She was in a quandary. She did not want to come downstairs in just a shirt and it would look odd if she did not come back down. She hesitated; her stomach grumbled as the cooked meat wafted up to her nostrils. Well, that answered her question. She was starving. She had not eaten much today---her stomach so twisted with worry and regret. Making up her mind she wrapped herself in a blanket from her bedding and carefully made her way down the ladder.

Holding the blanket tightly around her she stood uneasily next to the ladder as if ready to scamper up it in an instant if need be. This house did not feel like home to her. She still thought of it as Mr. McAllister’s house and she felt like an intruder. Not sure what to say or do she moved to the stove to stare down into the pot. She did not know too much about cooking but it smelled like heaven.

“Hungry?” Brock asked quietly. The boy was still acting odd; it was as if he was avoiding him. Maybe it was because of his ordeal or just because of the new place. Brock knew how uncomfortable it was to be in a new place, a new town.

“Um, yes, is there enough for both of us?”

“Of course, you don’t eat much, anyway. No wonder you’re not growing.” He stopped smiling as he saw the boy stiffen. “Sorry, didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”

“Runs in the family,” she stated in her defense.  This was not a lie; her sister and mother were about the same size as she was. Thinking of them brought sadness back into her heart; Brock could read it in her stance and cursed himself for upsetting the boy. The kid had enough ghosts to battle without him dredging up new ones.

“Ya know, I changed my mind, I’m not hungry after all.” She turned, climbed back up the ladder and crawled into her bed. Her tears ran as heavily as the rain outside.

A short time later she was awakened when Brock shook her shoulder. Sitting up with the blanket clutched tightly to her chest, she took the cup of stew he offered her.

The warm broth burned her throat a bit but was soothing to her stomach. She quickly finished the cup and thanked him gratefully as he crept down the ladder, leaving her to her thoughts.

Chapte
r
8

S
abrina awoke to the wonderful smell of bacon frying. She thought bacon was the best smell in the whole world. Crawling out of her bed and peeking her head over the loft, she saw Brock standing at the wood stove cooking breakfast. Her stomach rumbled, and she leaned over to check and see if her clothes were dry yet. Giving them a quick squeeze, she found they were still damp.

Regretfully, she made her way down the ladder again wrapped in a blanket.

Brock looked behind him and offered her a grin. “Morning.”

“You really do know how to cook,” she said, coming up behind him to peer around his back at the stove.

“I’m very good at lots of things.” Brock smirked, expertly turning the sizzling bacon. She watched as he checked on the biscuits he had made earlier and shook her head in wonder. He was like the perfect prince in a fairytale. Prince Charming. She imagined a crown on his dark head and giggled.

Brock looked down at her strangely. Noticing, she faked a cough and cleared her throat. “Never learned to cook myself.” She sat at the small table as Brock scooped out the crispy bacon onto the tin plates. He then cracked eggs into the pan, letting the bacon grease season the eggs as they cooked.

“Well, I guess I’ll have to teach you. You have to keep up your end of the chores.”

A memory of Alma chasing her out of the kitchen when she was younger flashed through her mind. She had been trying to boil water for some tea and had somehow caught the drapes on fire.

Alma had put the fire out quickly with her wash water for the dishes. Sabrina’s heart filled with fear as she now realized what a dangerous situation she had been in. Instead of being mad at Alma for scolding her, she should have been grateful for the woman’s swift action. Anyhow, she was not allowed to cook
again, which was fine with her. She would much rather be outside taking care of the livestock anyway.

Finishing the eggs, Brock carried the plates outside for them to eat. It was a beautiful morning and the food was really good. They did not talk while they ate and, for that, Sabrina was grateful. It was nice to sit and enjoy a good meal with Brock; she even relaxed her guard a little. As Sabrina finished eating, Brock stood up, stretching his long, lithe body.

Sabrina knew she was staring again but she could not help it. She was mesmerized as he raised his arms up over his head and stretched like a cat.

“I cooked; you clean,
” Brock said, heading toward the barn to check on Troy. Sabrina sighed, watching him go. She felt a strange churning in her stomach whenever she was near him. She knew what that feeling was; Lydia had taught her all about that kinda stuff. She knew her body was reacting to him like a dog in heat. It really made pretending to be a boy a whole lot harder. Maybe she’d made a mistake by moving in with Brock. She really didn’t know what had possessed her to say “yes” or what had come over him to ask her.

Seeing him in the barn she thought back to the first time they had been there, when she was showing him the place. 
His mouth was so close he could have kissed her. He was reacting to her too. Of course he still thought she was a boy and it was confusing him to no end. Just imagine if he knew she was a girl. She grinned a little as she gathered up the plates to wash.

Brock leaned against Troy’s stall. The boy needed clothing and necessities. He would have to take him into town to get him some. He needed his own horse. Unfortunately, Brock did not have enough resources for that now. He would just have to ride double with him on Troy. If need be, Will could walk to town and back but that was silly since they were both going to the same place. He tried to ignore the nagging voice in the back of his head, which told him that he wanted the boy to depend on him and that he liked it when he rode with Will. Saddling Troy, he headed to the house to inform Will of his plans.

Sabrina had to drop the blanket while she finished the dishes and pans. She stood by the small table in nothing but Brock’s shirt. She was covered almost to her knees but she felt naked. She needed clothes, she needed money, she needed a job. It would take months to rebuild the livery, if or when Mr. Swanson decided to do so. There weren’t that many jobs available for a boy of her age. She shook her head as she thought of herself as a boy; hell, she was even confusing herself now.

She heard the creak of the door opening behind her and froze. She wanted to make a grab for the blanket but knew that would appear suspicious. So she pretended that she didn’t hear him enter and continued with her task.  She felt a large warm hand on her shoulder and electricity shot down her spine as Brock leaned down and told her to get ready to head into town.  Flushed from the contact she turned away and only nodded as she dried the last dish.

Picking up the blanket and wrapping it around her, she scampered up the ladder. Up in the loft she took deep steady breaths. This was driving her crazy. She needed to tell him the truth. Sabrina despised liars more than anything and that is exactly what she had become. Fearing that if she did tell him he would be angry and kick her out, she decided to keep silent. For now, she had no other place to go. Grabbing her slightly damp clothing, she squirmed into it and headed back down the ladder.

She handed Brock his shirt back, careful not to touch him in the process. She thanked him and looked up at him as she did so. He was so tall she only came up to his shoulder. His eyes met hers, and he quickly looked away, taking a step back.

“We need to go into town to get you some things,” Brock stated.

“I don’t have any money right now, I’ll just make do.”

“Since you’re in my charge, I’ll provide for you.”

Sabrina bristled at this. “First of all, you are not in charge of me. I’m kinda down and out right now, and I appreciate you taking me in until I can get back on my feet. If you insist on getting me things, just know that I will repay you as soon as possible. I don’t need charity or anyone feeling sorry for me.”

Brock was surprised by the boy’s strength and courage. He had nothing, and yet he was not broken. He nodded to Will, trying to hide a small smile and received a glare for his effort. He headed outside and mounted Troy, not daring to offer the boy a hand up lest he get another lecture. Will climbed up behind him with no problem.  He felt small hands on his waist and sent Troy into a trot.

They were silent as they rode into town. Passing the burnt out barn, Brock felt Will’s hands clench
into fists as he held onto his shirt.  He guided Troy to his office and tied him at the post outside. Will was off the horse almost before he stopped. He looked at Brock with his arms crossed in front of his chest, daring him to say a word. Sighing, Brock headed toward the mercantile and hoped that Will was following him.

Sabrina stopped outside of the store and hesitated. The same blue dress was still in the window mocking her. She hated it. She hated all dresses. She had much more freedom.  Now she could go and do whatever she wanted to
do; be whoever she wanted to be. So why wasn’t she happy? Frowning, she followed Brock inside.

He led her over to a table of denim overalls and pants. She chose a pair of bib overalls in blue and, at Brock’s insistence, another pair of brown jeans. Next came the shirts. Grabbing two, she added them to her pile along with a pair of long johns that Brock tossed on top, smirking as she glared at him. Ignoring him, Brock added some socks to the pile. He headed over to the boot section and Sabrina put her foot down.

“My boots are just fine; I don’t need another pair,” she hissed in embarrassment.  “It’ll take me a year to pay all of this off as it is.”

Brock let her win the shoe argument but insisted on buying a jacket for winter. It was already fall and, even in Oklahoma, it can get awfully cold. Sabrina was battling with herself. She knew she needed a coat she just didn’t need one right
now
. If she said no she knew he would argue with her and make a scene. It would save her a lot of grief if she just went ahead and let him buy the damn coat now. She reluctantly agreed, but Brock was already searching through the coats. 

Mr. Taylor added up her purchases and wrapped them in a burlap bundle tied with string.

“Here you go,” he said, smiling happily at the large sale.

“How much is everything?” she asked.

“Don’t worry about it, son, I just added it to the Sheriff’s tab.”

She scowled up at him. “How much?” she repeated slowly, as if he was dense. The mercantile looked at Brock nervously. “Um, four dollars.”

Sabrina glared at both of them. “Really?  Cause I added it up to be fifteen dollars.” Brock and Mr. Taylor both looked surprised at that.

“Um, yes, but we’re having a sale.”

“Sure,” Sabrina said, stomping out of the mercantile angrily as Brock grabbed the package, thanked the clerk, and chased after her.

Hearing him hurrying behind her, she stopped and spun around to face him. Not anticipating such a sudden stop, Brock knocked her backwards into a very large puddle of mud. He expected the boy to explode
in anger but was taken by surprise when he sat silently in the puddle.  The look he gave Brock made his heart ache.

Sabrina bit her lip as tears burned her eyes. What a crappy week. Hearing piercing laughter, she looked around and saw Sally and Thomas nearby. Perfect.

Brock watched in contempt as a chuckling Thomas went to Will’s aid, pulling him to his feet. Taking control, Brock stepped forward, thanking Thomas for his assistance and pulling Will down the street and into a narrow alley.

“I don’t appreciate being lied to. I told you I would pay you back. I can take care of myself. I don’t need anyone.”

“Don’t you?” Brock asked softly.

Sabrina could hide the tears no longer. She felt Brock’s arms wrap around her and h
eld her to his chest. She didn’t know how long they were standing there in the alley.  Time had stopped for her.  All she knew was that it felt damn good to be held in Brock’s arms. She reluctantly pulled away, sniffling as she wiped at her face, smearing mud on it.

“You’re getting
muddy,” she told him.

“I don’t care.”

“I’m sorry for being such a cry baby. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“There’s nothing wrong with you.  You have been through too much lately; it’s good to cry on occasion.“

“Do you cry?” she asked, taking Brock off guard.

“I have,” he answered, looking away. “I got paper work to catch up with; why don’t you come back to the jail with me and you can change.”

Looking down at her muddy clothes, she agreed.  Brock shut the door and locked it back after they entered. Sabrina took her package to the cell she slept in the other night. It seemed like so much had happened since then. So much bad had happened in her short life that she was weary from it. Making sure Brock was sitting at his desk with his back to her she quickly took off the dirty clothes and put on a clean shirt and the overalls. She was pleased to see that the overalls did much to hide her figure and chest. It seemed silly to dress in clean clothes when the rest of her was filthy but it felt good just the same.

Retying her bundle of new clothes and wadding the dirty ones up on the floor for now, she went up to Brock.

“Thank you for my clothes.”

Brock looked up at her. “You’re welcome.”

Her eyes widened as she glanced up and took in the new wanted poster behind Brock’s head.

Brock turned, following her stare. “Ted Roberts. Head of the Roberts gang. Do you know him?”

Sabrina felt faint; she did know him. He had worked on their ranch.  She had no idea he was a murderer. He was very quiet, he liked to read, and he was very smart. He was very nice to Sabrina but something about his eyes, the way they were always watching her. The way he always gazed at her was frightening; it made her feel sick inside, like she was dirty. He had started following her around, keeping track of her. When her father found out about it, he fired him.

She flashed back to the day of the murders. She remembered a man on horseback watching the commotion. He was too far away to see his face but he was on a black horse. Ted Roberts had a pure black horse.

Brock stood, grabbed her by the arm and set her in his chair. She shook her head in denial. Her mind and her heart were locked in combat.  She did not want to admit the possible. “No, I don’t know him,” she whispered, but they both knew she was lying.

Sabrina felt dizzy and leaned up against a wall. Brock insisted she go back into the cell and lie down, but he could tell by Will’s breathing that he was not sleeping. He wanted to take him home but he had too many reports to write up about the fire. He liked to keep a log of the goings on in the town. He knew he would not be able to help Will unless he talked, and it seemed as if the boy was determined not to, no matter how scared he was.

This bothered Brock. He wanted to protect him and keep him safe and happy. So far, he was not doing a very good job at either.

Sabrina stared at the wall feeling a sense of deja’vu. She had tried so hard to forget what happened that day so long ago; to wipe it out of her memory. Now, she wanted to replay it in her
mind... to see if it really was Ted Roberts there that day. If he was, her family’s deaths were all her fault; she was the one who rejected him. She was the one who snuck out to go fishing with Samuel without telling anyone.  It was her fault they were all dead…her fault…all her fault.