The Stafford Collection, Historical Western Romances
Page 1
The
Stafford
Collection
Historical Western Romances
By
Lynn Hubbard
www.lynnhubbard.com
© Copyrighted 2013 by Lemon Press
All rights reserved.
Printed in the United States of America.
Published by Lemon Press
www.lemonpresspublishing.com
Cover Design by Pixalpod.com
RITW Cover Photo by Nolte Lourens - Fotolia.com
RITW Cover Model: Jeandre Lindeque
www.noltephoto.co.za
Chase the Moon Cover Model: Julian Christian
Introduction By Cindy Smith
I admit like every other woman in the universe, that I was first attracted to the cover, the mysterious man with ripples across his shirtless chest. The book display kind of pulled me in against my will to get a closer look. I then found myself reaching for the novel, “Run into the Wind”, by author Lynn Hubbard.
Page after page, ear marking a few I wanted to read again and again, I found myself entranced by the lives of Sabrina and Brock. Being an avid western reader and a writer myself, I was intrigued with the setting and 1880’s time period, but it was the characters who captured my heart.
Now, I could tell you without a doubt that Lynn Hubbard can write a sizzling romance novel! But this is something you will have to decide for yourself. I suspect you will be like me and from the very first page, you won’t be able to put it down. Aside from the story being well researched historically, Lynn knows how to keep the reader interested, excited and anticipating the next scene. I couldn’t wait to get to the ending!
I was honored when Lynn asked me to write a song about the book! As I placed myself in Sabrina’s shoes to feel her tormented and confused emotions and her need to be wanted and loved, I too, fell in love with Brock. What woman wouldn’t! My intentions were to convey Sabrina’s passion, strength and desires into the lyrics and music I wrote. The song, also titled “Run into The Wind”, was awarded the honor of being the Georgia Country & Gospel Music Association’s 2012 (traditional country) Song of the Year.
“Run into the Wind” is a story of renewal. When situations in our lives come to an abrupt end, we are all fearful of the unknown. This story will grant you a fresh look at a happily-ever-after ‘almost lost’ romance that you will not easily forget. And trust me, you won’t forget the man on the cover either!
Cindy Smith
Author, TIME IN CONTENTION (The Trilogy)
WMA/GCGMA Singer/Songwriter
Run into the Wind, the song, by Cindy Smith
www.cindysmithwesternmusic.com
Still waters lie deep along the shore
Tell me where I’ll go so I won’t hurt no more
Make the memories flows like a river to the sea
I had to run away
He touches me sending shivers to my soul
I never met a man quite like him before
But what if I’m not what he thinks he sees
Will he run away
To save my life I run into the wind
I’ll be all right once I learn to love again.
Nobody knows or cares who I really am
Should I run away ~ or should I run to him
I hold on tight and I run into the wind
I close my eyes and feel his breath upon my skin
He takes me by the hand and I follow him
And we run away ~ we run into the wind.
We run away……. into the wind……
Listen at Amazon
Run into the WInd
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chase the Moon
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Epilogue
Prologue
Mississippi, 1882
She stared intently at the still water, not daring to whisper. A soft breeze blew, spilling several stray strands of her long brown hair into her face. Impatiently she whisked them away as they tickled her nose. She could see shadows through the murky water as she sat on the bank. A flow of bubbles erupted from the depths and she smiled slightly as she saw more, then felt a slight tug on her line. Realizing its mistake the fish flailed around, haplessly trying to get free. Its erratic movements caused the surface of the water to quiver. Patiently she waited just a breath longer, letting the fish tire out a little, as she had been so carefully taught.
“Ha!” she exclaimed into the still morning, as she jubilantly pulled her line out of the water. The large bass dangling from her hook was the biggest one yet.
“Sabrina!” a deep voice growled from nearby, “You’re supposed to be quiet. You just scared away the one near my line.” She looked over at the large ebony-skinned man sprawled next to her in the tall grass at the edge of the river. Although he was only two years older than she was, he was three times her size.
“Oh Samuel, you’re just jealous. Besides we already caught enough fish this morning to practically feed the whole town.”
“Yeah, and you caught most of them,” Samuel grumbled good-naturedly.
“Guess you taught me too well.”
“Guess you’re right. We better be headin’ back before your father starts looking for us. ‘Sides you gotta get ready for the festival,” Samuel said, not bothering to hide his grin.
Sabrina groaned; she hated town functions, mostly because she was forced to dress up, and Samuel, her best friend, was not allowed to go. She looked down at her mud-soaked britches and sighed. The town was having a dance and a fish fry at the town hall. Since her pa was a Marshall, she had to go.
Reluctantly, they clambered to their feet and pulled up their strings of fish from the water. Sabrina was struggling with her heavy load but Samuel knew better than to offer his help. He tossed his pole over his shoulder and the two headed toward Montgomery, their home. Montgomery was her mother’s maiden name, her father built the beautiful manor and named it after her mother out of devotion.
When Samuel was not working on the ranch he spent much of his f
ree time with Sabrina, and loved her like a sister. His own sister had died from yellow fever years ago, and the only true family he had left was his mother. Samuel’s mother worked for Sabrina’s family also. She and Samuel had a small house set back behind Montgomery. Since Sabrina’s whole family was going into town, the help was given the day off to enjoy the festivities.
Sabrina sighed as she slowly picked her way along the well-worn path through the woods. It was no fair; Samuel wanted to go to the festival but his mother would not allow it, and she didn’t want to go but was forced to go anyway.
So bitter was Sabrina’s mood, she paid no attention to her surroundings even though it was a lovely morning. It had been an especially brutal summer, but the light breeze hinted that fall may come sooner than expected. The two traipsing through the woods were an unusual pair to behold but they both had the same passion for life and adventure, and this, especially, made them compatible.
As they neared the edge of the woods, they started to smell an odd scent. It lingered on the air for an instant and then it was gone. However, its effects were not. The brief whiff of smoke stopped them cold. Alma, Samuel’s mother, would have already had the wood stove up and running by this time, but it was not the sweet scent of the chicory wood that they smelled but something more frightening. Dropping the fish and equipment, they did not dare glance at each other as they quickly made their way up to the top of the knoll. At the peak, Sabrina stopped dead at the horrifying sight. Her home was on fire. She started to run but Samuel caught her and pulled her back down behind the tree line.
She started to fight him at first until she saw what he did: two strange men pulling Lydia, her older sister, from around the back of the house. She was kicking and screaming. Lydia kicked one of the men hard enough to gain her freedom. As she headed in Sabrina’s direction, a single shot rang out, dropping her to the ground as the men chasing her caught up.
Sabrina gasped and covered her mouth with her hands to keep from screaming as she watched in horror. Her struggle with Samuel ceased as she sat in silent shock in the bushes. The scene was so surreal. The men seemed to be arguing among themselves. There were five in all, she would later recollect, but right then she did not notice. Her blood had turned to ice as she spotted the other body lying lifeless in the yard. She could make out her mother’s favorite yellow dress, now ruined from the red stain creeping across it; and her heart nearly stopped when she saw her father’s body softly swaying from the grand oak in the front yard. Then her world went black.
Chapter 1
Oklahoma, 1885
Sabrina wiped the sweat from her brow with the back of her sleeve. The heat was unbearable. The horse she was working on neighed in agitation. “I know, boy, I’m hot too,” Sabrina said softly as she set the pail of water she was carrying in front of the thirsty animal.
“When you get done with the stallion you can take a break but be sure you have Miss Reynolds’ carriage ready for her by four o’clock,” Mr. Swanson said gruffly.
Sabrina nodded as she tried to hide a slight smile. Mr. Swanson was like a fond uncle to her; he acted stern but she knew he had a sweet spirit. She had worked for him for over two years. He owned the stables in Tulsey Town and she would never forget how he had found her sleeping in a stall one morning and offered her a job and a place to stay. The stable had a loft and Mr. Swanson said she could stay there as long as she needed.
To look at him in dusty chaps, with face wrinkled from many years in the sun, you would not think he was well to do. He had previously owned a large ranch outside of Tulsey. Not having any children to pass the place down to, he decided to sell and move to town. He purchased a saloon first, figuring people needed a place to relax. He was never good with people, though, so he built a corral with a stable and tended to horses that visitors tethered.
He spent most of his time at the stables. Horses were his true love and he was very knowledgeable. Sabrina had learned a great deal from him. He worked just as hard as she did, even harder some of the time. Sabrina had not decided if it was because of his love of horses or his unwillingness to go home that explained his dedication. He always told her that his wife was a shrew. She seemed nice enough to Sabrina, just very particular about everything her husband did, from where he was supposed to put his hat, to scrubbing his face and hands before dinner.
Along with her space in the loft, Mr. Swanson gave Sabrina a small salary, from which she saved as much as she could–not that she needed money for heaven’s sake; she was an heiress to a fortune. She just wasn’t able to access any of it, at least not without her brother finding out, and she definitely didn’t want that to happen.
Her brother, Warren, had been away at a college in the east studying law when the massacre occurred. She’d always supposed that the men had attacked her family for money. When they did not find much on the property, they must have been infuriated. They had never been caught. Yet. But that would change, Sabrina thought with determination, as she started to brush down the horse.
Her father, being the Marshall, had insisted that all his children learn how to shoot; but Sabrina was his only willing student. She loved riding out to the cliffs and firing off endless rounds. She was a crack shot with a rifle as well as a pistol. How she wished that she had brought her rifle with her that day.
Sometimes it was hard to keep the horrid scenes out of her mind. She was mad at Samuel at first for pulling her back, but she later realized that they would have both been dead if he had not acted so quickly. His mother was safe as well; she had gone into town earlier that day along with many of the hired hands to help set up for the fair.
Since Sabrina was sixteen at the time, the state gave her brother, Warren, guardianship over her. When Warren learned of the tragedy, he set off for home as soon as possible. He had already finished his degree and was working as an apprentice for a law firm in Boston. He was doing very well; he had graduated at the top of his class. After the fire, Sabrina stayed in the small cabin with Samuel and his mother. Luckily, it had withstood the heat from Montgomery, as did the bunkhouse, barn and stables. Although she had lost everything, she was determined to go on. She spent long hours laboring in the frigid temperatures. Part of it was because there was lots of work to do but the other reason was that it blocked out her sister’s screams from her mind.
If she did not think about the tragedy, then it was not real. Right? Therefore, she filled her days with cleaning the stables, training the horses, and helping with the tack. Her dad always loved horses and spent all his free time in choosing and breeding the very best ones. So this is what Sabrina did; this was her world. At least it was until Warren got home.
He showed up out of the blue one crisp winter day, appalled to find his little sister running around in trousers, her hair matted to her head with sweat as she ate dinner among the other ranch hands. He had been furious. “You must begin acting like a lady,” he had shouted. “Now you are not even acting like a proper young girl.” Tears stung her eyes as she recalled one awful fight with him.
“You cannot go running around like a ranch hand anymore. You are above that. Besides, if the town knew you were living out here amongst these men by yourself your name would be disgraced.”
“You think I care? This is my home and these are my friends. I will not leave no matter what any small-minded person thinks. If they don’t like it, they can go to Hell. Hell is not a fun place; trust me, I’ve been there.”
Sighing as she tried to clear her thoughts, she walked over to the water trough and used the sippin’ cup to take a drink of the tepid liquid. At least it’s wet she thought, swallowing gratefully. Although she loved being outside, the heat affected her greatly. “Must have inherited it from mother,” she murmured, as she lifted the cup and let the water run over her head and down her back, wetting her shirt.
Abigail, her mother, had been from Boston. She was very adventurous in her youth and headed west against her parents’ wishes. Sabrina recalled her mother vividly. She
was beautiful, with glorious strawberry-blonde hair and sparkling green eyes. Sabrina exhaled noisily, thinking of her own dark brown locks which were currently cut short to aid her disguise. Though she had her mother’s eyes, out of the three Lovett children, Sabrina looked most like her father. Warren would have traded his red locks with her in an instant, she thought, and smiled wryly.
Sabrina normally would not have taken the chance that someone would see through her masquerade and find out that she was a girl by the wet shirt clinging to her curves. But she was on her break and she was hot. Plus in this heat it would dry quickly, anyway. She went into a shady stall and sat down on the hay with her back resting against the rough wood. She gratefully closed her eyes as she listened to the regular sounds on the street: the trot, trot, trot of riders going about their daily business as they came to and from town lulled her into a deep sleep.
Chapter 2
Brock Stafford reined in his horse outside of the saloon. He had been traveling for days and all he wanted was a good meal and a soft bed, preferably in that order. He took his hat and tried to beat as much dust off of him as possible as he walked up to the bar. At least no one minded the grime. It seemed as if the locals had more dirt on them than he did; and he definitely smelled a heck of a lot better, or at least he hoped so.