Second Chance Cowboy

by Sylvia McDaniel

  Gunshots exploded in the evening air, splashing the water around them. Sabrina felt herself falling. The water closed over her head. She tried to stand up, but something pressed on her, keeping her from rising. Panic filled her, and she flailed her arms, fighting for her life. Her lungs burned from lack of oxygen. The muffled sound of shouts and gunshots carried under the water. When she opened her eyes, the water was lark and murky from the gunshots and Sabrina’s exertions. Her body began to tire and she knew she was running out of strength and air.

  As the world was beginning to turn gray, the sound of a gunshot and a dull thud reached Sabrina. The hand that had been holding her down went limp. Sabrina shot up out of the water like a cannon and gasped great gulps of air into her lungs.

  Sabrina was dimly aware of the sound of horses riding away. Where was Patrick? Had he held her down in the river? She looked around and saw his half-floating body lying face down in the water.

  “Patrick?” she questioned, her nerve endings prickling with fear. In a split second, she realized he wasn’t moving, and her heart skipped a beat.

  “Patrick!” she screamed. One long stride took her to him. Lifting his face out of the water, she gasped at the blood gushing from a wound on his forehead.

  Pulling him to her breast, she saw his chest rising and falling. Relief flooded her. He was hurt, but he was alive. Quickly she searched for other wounds Sabrina screamed, “Buckets!”

  Buckets and the men were already there. Reaching the river’s edge, Buckets plunged in to help Sabrina hold Patrick.

  “Damn! Is he alive?” Buckets asked.

  “Yes, but he’s hurt” Tears clogged Sabrina’s voice.

  “What happened?”

  “He followed some men here, and then when he found me in the river, they started shooting at us. He pushed me under the water and held me there.”

  “We saw two horsemen riding away.”

  “Oh, Buckets. Please don’t let him die,” anguish filled Sabrina’s voice.

  Buckets’ eyes shone brightly, swimming with unshed tears. “I’ll do my best, darlin’.” He dispensed men to search the area. The men left behind helped him lift Patrick out of the water and carry him to the campsite. No one spoke of the danger.

  Regardless of her state of undress, Sabrina hurried out of the water and followed the men carrying Patrick. One of the men threw her a blanket when they arrived in camp and she hurriedly wrapped it around her. Patrick remained unconscious.

  Sabrina watched Buckets carefully clean the flesh wound on Patrick’s left temple. Lady Luck had protected Patrick once more. Half an inch to the left and Patrick would have been singing with the angels. Buckets poured whiskey over the wound. Patrick’s body jumped, but still he remained unconscious.

  “Why doesn’t he wake up?”

  “I don’t know. I ain’t a doctor.” Buckets’ worried frown creased his face as he wrapped a bandage around the long gash. The bleeding had stopped. He had cleaned the wound, but his patient had not awakened. “That’s all I can do for him. The rest is up to the good Lord.”

  Sabrina brushed Patrick’s sandy locks back from his face. She’d lost her father, and she’d lost Matt. She couldn’t lose Patrick, too. “I want him moved inside the chuck wagon.”

  Buckets looked at Sabrina as if she’d lost her mind. ‘Miss Sabrina, that ain’t gonna look good.”

  “I don’t care. I’m staying with him until he regains consciousness. He will stay in the chuck wagon until he’s well.” Her determined voice stopped everyone in camp.

  Buckets shook his head at her. “Okay, I’ll have him moved, but not until you get dressed.”

  Sabrina glanced down at herself. She’d forgotten all about the blanket that covered her wet chemise. Blood rushed to her face as she realized her state of undress. “Sorry, I guess I’d forgotten. I’ll go change.”

  Sabrina hurried to the chuck wagon and quickly changed into a clean pair of pants, a shirt, and a dry chemise. After running a comb through her wet hair, she tied it back with a string of ribbon, leaving it flowing down her back. Then she laid out her pallet for Patrick. When Patrick was settled in the chuck wagon, Sabrina made everyone leave but Buckets. She and Buckets quietly took up positions to watch over Patrick. His ashen face looked even paler with the white strip of cloth binding his forehead. Blood had seeped through the bandage, leaving its mark on the cloth. The steady rise and fall of his chest gave Sabrina comfort, yet she waited impatiently for him to open his eyes.

  “You falling in love with him again?” Buckets asked quietly.

  His question shocked Sabrina. Was it that obvious? She had only realized her feelings this morning. How could anyone else know? She wasn’t ready to expose them to anyone just yet.

  “I don’t know. I’m afraid.” Sabrina touched her hand to Patrick’s cheek. No fever. Why didn’t he wake up?

  “Your father always hoped you two would get back together.”

  Sabrina’s head jerked up from her close watch on Patrick, and she turned her startled gaze to scrutinize Buckets. “Why?”

  “We talked about it” Buckets pulled out his tobacco pouch and papers to roll himself a smoke. “Your Pa thought Patrick was a fine man, and that the two of you belonged together.”

  She gazed at the man lying before her. She brushed a lock of hair away from his face. The feel of his skin was warm to the touch. “We were so young when we were engaged.”

  “Yeah, and Matt and Trey’s trial didn’t help none.” Sabrina’s head drooped in remembered shame. “I should have believed Patrick.”

  Buckets finished rolling his cigarette. “Should haves can’t be changed. So, what’re you going to do now?”

  Puzzled, Sabrina looked at the gray-haired man who had been her friend for many years. “What do you mean?”

  “I’m thinking you’re still in love with him, and you know what happened last time. Things have to be different this time.”

  “I know. I’ve thought long and hard about what went wrong and why. Was the trial the real reason, or was there more?”

  Buckets stopped fiddling with the homemade cigarette, his full attention focused on Sabrina. “And . . .”

  Sabrina sighed. “The trial was bad, and the situation with Matt terrible, but most of all, I was afraid. I wasn’t ready.”

  “Ready for what?”

  “To become a wife. All I’d ever known in this life was my family. I was frightened.”

  Buckets pulled his hat off and ran his hand through is hair. The homemade cigarette dangled from his fingers. “You two are the damnedest pair I’ve ever run across. When you love someone, your life changes.”

  “I know. I wasn’t ready then. I didn’t know what I wanted in my life.”

  “Do you now?”

  She paused, a puzzled look on her face. “I want a home, a family, and a good man who’ll love me. A man like Patrick.”

  The old man put the tobacco pouch back in his pocket. “Seems to me you two should sit down and talk. You might find out you want the same things in life.”

  Sabrina bowed her head. “I know. But now there’s this situation with Matt”

  “To hell with Matt,” Buckets growled. “Did your father ever mention Matt’s—?”

  “Buckets! Tom’s killed a rabbit for you.”

  The old man looked up at the top of the chuck wagon; and swore. “James, there’s a sick man in here.”

  James’s excited face fell. “I’m sorry, but I know you’ve been wanting rabbit stew.”

  Buckets stood up as much as he could in the cramped quarters of the wagon and walked to the end. Looking back at Sabrina, he admonished, “One of these days we’re gonna have us a sit-down about Matt, but for now let me know if there’s any change. I’ll be outside cooking rabbit.”

  Sabrina smiled and waved at the older man. When she returned her attention to the night sky, she missed seeing Patrick’s arm move.

  * * *

  The side of his head pulsated in time with his
heart, and it hurt like hell. Voices drifted in and out. Their sounds ricocheting inside his head like a bull against the walls of a canyon. Snatches of conversation made him want to speak up and answer, but his lips wouldn’t move, and his eyelids felt sewn shut. He tried moving his head, and the throbbing increased, sending sickly sweet nausea into his throat.

  Quietly he lay there, not moving, but listening. He eavesdropped on Sabrina and Buckets until James called to Buckets. Then, his weak body betrayed him, sending him into the blissful oblivion of sleep.

  The next time he woke, his head ached. The pounding had eased to the feel of a soft thud, instead of the sledge hammer he’d felt earlier. His mouth was dry, his body sore, and he needed to relieve himself badly.

  The pink streaks of dawn illuminated the inside of the chuck wagon with the soft blush of morning. He moved his head slightly and saw Sabrina’s sleeping form. She sat beside him, her neck tilted forward, her chin resting on her chest. Her arms hugged her knees, bracing her.

  Slowly, the brief snatches of conversation he’d overheard the night before flowed back into his consciousness. He’d heard it all. The part about her fear of marrying him, her guilt regarding Matt, her confusion about loving him. Did she really love him or had he misunderstood their conversation? Had the blow to his head caused him to dream the whole discussion?

  The question that remained was what was he going to do about it? Did he love Sabrina? A better question would be, had he ever quit loving her?

  Why did he always come back to this woman? What was so special about her? She wasn’t a classical beauty, but an earthly one. She was a beauty that was part of the land, gold and sultry on the outside, hot and stormy on the inside.

  She was stubborn, willful, irritating, and sometimes selfish. She was also strong, dependable, loving, and passionate. Clearly Sabrina wasn’t the same girl he’d been engaged to years ago. She had changed, matured.

  And her maturity had made her stronger. It hadn’t been apparent when she’d first come home, but the younger Sabrina couldn’t have handled her father dying, her brother leaving, and the financial condition of the ranch. The younger Sabrina would have folded under the strain, but not today’s Sabrina. He liked this Sabrina, more than he ever liked the young girl from yesterday. He’d tried not to forgive her for the past. He’d tried to hate her, to avoid her, but she wouldn’t let him. Now it seemed they had come full circle. Again Patrick had feelings for this woman that wouldn’t be denied.

  Just looking at her as she slept close by made him want to reach out and kiss the sleep from her eyes. He wanted to kiss her until he had her soft and willing in his arms. He wanted to kiss her until the passion they felt carried them away. Blonde wisps of curls around her ears teased him with their softness. The urge to reach out and brush them back with his fingers was strong.

  Pale thick eyelashes lay on her face, hiding eyes bluer than the clearest Texas sky. Eyes were the direct road to the soul, and seldom lied. Patrick needed to look into her soul to see if her words were genuine, to see that she truly cared.

  If she were sincere, and he wanted to believe her, he knew it would be impossible to keep his hands off her. Someday soon, he would make love to her. For both their sakes, he hoped it was after the drive was completed, but right now he couldn’t take much more. He couldn’t take much more of seeing her half-dressed, of kissing her, of smelling her, of watching her quietly during the day.

  Desire coiled tightly in his loins like a storm before the rain. Was he ready to take that giant leap forward? Making love to Sabrina would mean marriage. Was he ready for that kind of commitment? Once before he’d thought he was ready, and then Matt had interfered, breaking them apart.

  The thought made his head ache. Curiously, he reached up and touched the bandage on his head. Before he made any commitment to anyone, he had to get well. Gingerly, his hand ran across his forehead, bringing back the memory of the shooting. He’d been lucky. Damn lucky, considering Sabrina could have been hurt.

  He shifted on the soft pallet, trying to get comfortable. The small sound of cloth rustling was enough to make Sabrina jerk upright. Eyes the color of distant mountains opened wide as they met and held his. “You’re awake!”

  “Only for you, Sleeping Beauty.” God, she was beautiful in the morning. The last time he’d waked beside her, he’d left so he wouldn’t have the memories to taunt him. Now he had no choice.

  “Damn you, Patrick. You had me so worried.” She sighed. “How do you feel?” Her voice was full of anger one moment, and concern the next.

  “Like someone took a hammer to my head.”

  Sabrina bent over to check the bandage on his head. As she moved the bandage, her breasts rubbed against him in a gentle caress.

  Patrick took a deep breath to calm his suddenly thudding pulse. The sweet smell of lavender and woman filled is senses. Like a cloudburst, desire flooded his body.

  “The bleeding has stopped and there’s only minor swelling.” Sabrina straightened up, scowling. “God, you scared me.”

  Patrick reached up and pulled her down onto the pallet beside him and whispered huskily, “And you, lady, scared the hell out of me.”

  Sabrina lay almost on top of him. Her arms were around him; her chest lay on top of his chest. Their eyes were inches apart, their lips even closer. Patrick watched her tongue flick nervously across her bottom lip.

  “How did I scare you?” Sabrina inquired innocently.

  “You know damn well how you scared me. I was going paddle your bottom before the shooting started.” Unable to resist his hand reached for the soft curls around her ear. He brushed them back and planted his tongue where they had lain. He felt her quiver and ran his tongue along her ear.

  “I only wanted to take a bath.” Her voice was a husky whisper.

  “Did you tell anyone where you were going before you left?” he asked, continuing his assault on her ear. His tongue raked the inside and he felt her shiver with pleasure, he hoped.

  “No. Stop—Patrick. You’re not well.” Her hands were clutching his shirt, holding onto him.

  Ignoring the comment on the state of his health, he kissed the spot below her ear and trailed tiny kisses down her neck pushing her shirt aside until he reached her collarbone.

  Gently, he turned her face toward him. Passion flowed from her eyes, reaching out, touching him at the very center of his soul. “From now on, you are not going anywhere alone. Do you understand me?” His voice was serious, all teasing gone, as he stared at the woman he suspected had stolen his heart. Hopefully this time for good.

  “Yes.”

  “You’re a mean woman, Sabrina.” And with that his mouth covered hers in a demanding kiss that evoked moan deep within her throat. He wanted her, needed her, and was uncertain he wanted these feelings. She had hurt him before; would she do so again?

  His tongue searched her mouth, tasting her sweetness, running along the inside of her lips. Desire began to build inside his body, making him crave the feel her naked skin. He gently eased her back onto the pallet. Raising up, he meant to follow her, but dizziness overcame him. He moaned in pain as his head became higher than the rest of his body.

  Sabrina quickly pushed him back on the pallet. “Are you crazy? You’ve just been shot in the head and you’re trying to seduce me?”

  A smile creased Patrick’s lips, though his face had turned ashen. “A good man is never down for long, honey.”

  * * *

  Dew glistened on the morning grass like a shimmering mirror. Sabrina crawled out of her sleeping roll and stretched, easing her aching muscles. The hard ground had been her bedmate for the last three nights, while Patrick slept in the chuck wagon.

  He’d been a terrible patient—fussy, irritable. Confined to the chuck wagon, he’d grown more and more difficult, growling like a grizzly bear at everyone, most of all her.

  The second day he’d wanted to end his convalescence and go back to leading the drive. Buckets had told Patrick he’d hog-tie
him before he let him ride a horse. Then yesterday, she’d ridden up and seen him sitting beside Buckets on the bench seat of the chuck wagon. His warning frown had alerted her to keep her mouth shut For the sake of peace, she had. Lord knows what he would want to do today.

  From inside the wagon, the jingle of spurs reached her ears. Sabrina stepped to the front and peered inside. Patrick was dressed, hooking his spurs on the back of his boots.

  “What are you doing?” Sabrina asked anxiously, leaning on the wagon.

  Patrick attached the spur, refusing to look at Sabrina. “I’m putting my spurs on.”

  Exasperated, Sabrina replied, “I can see that. What are you planning to do with them?”

  “Well, usually a man wears them when he’s going to be riding a horse, working cattle,” Patrick replied in a sarcastic tone.

  “You’re not well enough to be riding.”

  Eyes hard as stone in a pale face met and held hers. “I feel fine.” His voice was annoyed. “If you want your cattle to reach Dodge City, then I have a cattle drive to lead.”

  “Dan has been leading the drive just fine,” Sabrina reprimanded.

  “Then why did we only make ten miles yesterday, and why did several men have to go looking for strays?”

  “Who told you?” Sabrina asked hotly. “No one was supposed to have bothered you with that information. I took care of it.”

  A sarcastic smile touched his lips. “Lord help us, just what we need, a woman leading a cattle drive. It’s bad enough you had to come along, but I’ll be damned if you’re leading this drive.”

  Sabrina’s sharp intake of breath sounded loud in her ears. He was baiting her, and she knew it, but couldn’t help but respond to it. “I don’t know what burr has gotten under your saddle, but the men have picked up any slack left by your illness. Give them credit.”

  “Hell, they’ve probably grown soft if you and Dan were leading the drive,” Patrick hissed.

  He was deliberately being nasty. Why? Had the blow to his head affected him in some unseen way?