The Stafford Collection, Historical Western Romances

by Hubbard, Lynn

  “Yes, thanks to Will and his help. He is very industrious,” Brock said, shaking his hand.

  “He’s a good boy, a hard worker but a bit stubborn. Thank you for saving his life last night. There is no way he would have left on his own–not without Star,” Mr. Swanson said desolately.

  “I was going to ask about the boy’s well-being, his future. It couldn’t have been good for him to be living in the stables.”

  Mr. Swanson smiled sadly, “No, no it wasn’t but Will is as stubborn as a billy goat. As I’m sure you’ve seen, he can be downright ornery at times. I have plenty of room at my house but he refused to stay with me and the Mrs., ‘didn’t wanna put us out’ he said.”

  “I was thinking about having him stay at my place since it looks like I’m gonna be here a while,” said Brock. “Having Will stay with me would be no problem.”

  “Well, Will is his own man; it’d be up to him.” As he left, he muttered, “Good luck trying to convince him, though.” Brock’s next visitor wasn’t as welcome.

  Sabrina awoke and the events of the night before crashed into her consciousness. Her lungs burned as she drew in a breath, and her throat was parched. She was lying on a cot, facing a stark wooden wall, very disoriented. She could hear male voices behind her. Then suddenly a voice stood out: it was Brock’s deep baritone. The other voice sounded familiar but she could not place it. She shut her eyes and pretended to still be asleep.

  “I came by to check on Will,” Thomas Reynold stated.

  “He’s resting, he shouldn’t be disturbed.”

  “He should still be checked out. Since my father is tied up with patients, I figured I would come by and examine the boy.”

  Sabrina stiffened involuntarily. She did not want anyone examining her, much less Thomas. She hoped Brock would keep him away. The last thing she needed was the man poking and prodding.

  Brock glanced over at Will, a thoughtful look on his face. He had detected the slight movement and change in breathing pattern. He knew that the boy was awake. “Appreciate your concern, Thomas, but what he needs most is rest. I’m not letting you wake him so you can use him for practice.”

  Thomas left in a huff and Brock stepped into the cell. By this time Sabrina had realized that she was at the jail–that it must have been Brock who carried her here last night after saving her from the fire. She was grateful to him for getting rid of Thomas for her, but she could not help but be angry with him for making her abandon Star. Thinking of the gentle mare, tears burned her eyes.

  “So you’re awake,” Brock said, stepping closer. Even though he knew she was conscious, she still kept up the façade, not wanting to face reality.

  She heard Brock sigh. The bed dipped when he sat on the edge of it. His thigh was touching her back and she closed her eyes even tighter.

  “You scared the hell out of me last night. I arrived to find the barn up in flames with you still in there. I know you blame me for losing Star, but I’d feel a hell of a lot worse if I lost you.”

  “Why would you care?” Sabrina spat out, as fresh tears stung her eyes. Her voice came out in a croak. The retort caused her chest to spasm and she ended up in a coughing fit. She turned, lifting herself up on her hands and knees to make breathing a little easier. Brock handed her his handkerchief as she spat up the black gunk coating her lungs.

  “You okay? You want me to go get Thomas?” Brock asked, concerned.

  “No! I’m fine,” She choked out, moving so she was now sitting up next to him on the cot. She sniffed as she wiped her face with a clean part of the hankie. She was surprised and dismayed as it came away black. She looked down at her tattered clothes. Her shirt and pants were darkened by soot and mud. They had small burn marks on them here and there from the burning ash. She needed to change. Fresh tears sprang to her eyes as she realized all her belongings in the world were in the barn. She had nothing. No home, no job, no money, no clothes. Nothing.

  Brock watched, concerned, as tears came and Will turned his face away to gain control of himself. His instincts screamed out to comfort the boy but he did not dare after their last encounter. “I guess I care because you remind me of myself when I was a boy,” he said softly, answering her initial question.

  Sabrina snorted at this. “Really? Your home was burned down in front of your eyes as you were forced to watch your loved ones die?”

  Brock watched with his heart aching as Will lifted his face up to stare at him head on. The only part of the boy’s face not covered in soot was the trail of tears rolling down his cheeks.

  The boy’s defiance as he glared at Brock indicated his spirit wasn’t broken. Brock smiled gently as he replied. “No, I was referring to your skill with horses, your loyalty, and your courage. I knew that you had lost your family somehow. I am sorry it was in such a horrendous way.” Sabrina clamped her mouth shut. She had said way too much already.

  “Ya know, Will, I was talking to Mr. Swanson earlier about you.”

  Sabrina stiffened. He didn’t realize her secret, did he? She thought frantically about what may have given her away. She was usually so careful. But something about him made her not want to be.

  “That ain’t polite to talk about people behind their back,” she chastised.

  “Well, I’m concerned.”

  Sabrina turned to face him, crossing her arms against her chest defensively.

  “You can’t just live in a barn the rest of your life. You need a home and someone to mentor you. It’s awfully tough out here and someone your age shouldn’t be left to fend for himself like a stray dog.”

  Sabrina snorted. “I’ve been doing just fine on my own. I don’t need anyone telling me what to do. Especially not a two-bit lawman who doesn’t have the sense to know that dirt and water make mud.”

  Brock sighed; this was not going as he had planned. For some reason he’d assumed the boy would be grateful to have a home.

  “It’s not safe for you to be on your own. This town is full of outlaws and thieves. What would have happened if the stables had caught on fire while you were sleeping?”

  Sabrina blanched, hearing the word fire pulled up vivid pictures of her home going up in flames, her sister’s screams. The bullet to Lydia’s back had not killed her instantly and the men had satisfied themselves with her until she lay still for good. Lightheaded, Sabrina had to grasp the side of the bed to steady herself. Brock held her other arm.

  “You okay?” She pulled away and stood up swaying, trying desperately to force out the horrid thoughts. She needed to sort things out; ignoring Brock, she walked out of the Jail.

  Brock sighed as Will walked off, suddenly feeling alone. Maybe his offer wasn’t so much for Will’s sake as his own.

  Sabrina wanted nothing more than to go down to the river, it always soothed her; but her rumbling stomach had other ideas. She sat at the bar and Mac put a hearty breakfast and glass of milk in front of her. Handing her a damp cloth she smiled at his sympathetic expression as she washed her face and hands before she nibbled on some fresh corn bread. Her throat felt raw and it was hard to swallow. Ignoring the huge slab of country ham on her plate, she crumbled the corn bread into her milk and ate it with a spoon. Concentrating on swallowing she didn’t notice when Mr. Swanson came into the saloon.

  “Mornin’, Will,” he said, patting him on the shoulder.

  Sabrina nodded, afraid to try speaking. She wanted to apologize for losing Star but she didn’t know how to start. Tears stung her eyes as she looked at Mr. Swanson, “I’m so sorry about your stables and Star. The latch got twisted and I couldn’t free her. If I had more time, if Brock hadn’t of grabbed me…”

  “Shhhh…It’s alright boy; I told Brock to bring you out. Star was a good horse and I know you did everything you could to save her. It was her time.”

  She shook her head. She remembered someone telling her that at her family’s funeral. It was their time; they’re in a better place. It did not help then and it did not help now. She knew he was just tryin
g to make her feel better but it was not working.

  “Brock said you were talking to him about me earlier.” She meant to sound irritated, but she was so tired she did not have any fight left. It took all her energy to breathe.

  “He thinks you should move in with him and, frankly, I agree. Will, would it be that awful sleeping in a warm bed at night and feeling the contentment of belonging? I’ve been talking to the town council and Brock came highly recommended; he has a reputation for being very honorable. I love you like a son but you push everyone away. Will, I know you lost your family but you’re still alive. Live!” He patted Will’s arm and walked away.

  Sabrina turned back to her meal, surprised to find that her face was wet. She slowly wiped away the tears but–to no avail–more just took their place. She never cried after Montgomery burned, not even at the funeral. She was just too numb at first, then she was too busy running the ranch and fighting with Warren. Crying was stupid; it didn’t help anything, just made you feel worse. Unable to stanch the flow, she laid her head on her crossed arms and sobbed. She cried for her mother, father, sister, her home, the friends she left behind, her brother and finally herself.

  Brock made a quick circuit around the boardwalk. He had followed Will to the saloon to make sure he was okay. Returning to his office, he propped his feet up on the desk and pulled his hat over his face to block out sunlight. He had not slept even a wink and was hoping to doze for a bit.

  A short while later he heard a knock on the door. He sat up reluctantly. Will was standing in the doorway. He motioned for the boy to come in and Will stopped at his desk. Brock waited as Will scowled down at him, the bitter words coming with hesitancy. “I guess I could stay… on a trial basis.”

  Brock tried to hide his smile. “I’ll pick you up at the saloon when I leave this evening.” The boy nodded once, turned and hurried out of the stifling office. Brock watched him until he was out of sight. Shaking his head, he reluctantly returned to his paper work. In the ruckus he didn’t notice the new wanted poster that had arrived. The poster read, “Ted Roberts: Dead or Alive.” He twisted to add it to the other ones and frowned, staring at the wall. There was a blank spot. He tried focusing his mind on the posters to figure out which one was missing. It soon dawned on him. The girl. The reward poster was gone. He looked around to see if it had come loose somehow from the nail. He searched the floor and then his desk. It was nowhere to be found. Sighing, he pinned Ted up in her place.

  Sabrina forced herself to walk down to the stables. The smell of burnt hair hung in the air and she felt like retching. The barn was gone. She had hoped that maybe some of her belongings had survived but it was total devastation. The sides had collapsed inwards and a pang struck her heart as she imagined Star’s fear as she abandoned the mare. Tears stung her eyes and she headed down an alley to sit behind a building.

  She blew her nose on Brock’s hankie and made her way down to the river. She climbed down the embankment to the water and rinsed out the handkerchief in its murky depths. Wringing it out, she scrubbed her face and neck and chest as best as she could. She knew she could go to the saloon and have a bath there, but she did not want to have to deal with people right now. A crisp air blew across the river, and she shivered. There was another storm coming.

  Sabrina was waiting inside when Brock arrived at the saloon. Her head was telling her she was crazy to risk revealing herself by moving in with him. But her heart was rebelling and doing little flip flops every time Brock spoke or glanced her way.

  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 w
ant 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.