The Stafford Collection, Historical Western Romances

by Hubbard, Lynn

  “Don’t leave me,” she whispered, tears gathering in her eyes. Brock fell on his knees next to her chair and pulled her into his arms. “Never. I will never leave you.” Sabrina hugged him tightly, only letting go regretfully to start the day.

  Brock went out back to chop firewood for the coming winter and Sabrina finished cleaning up inside. Her hand was almost back to normal. She still did not have complete movement as she did in her other hand, but Thomas said it would return in time. In fact, he still stopped by occasionally to check on her progress and to make sure she was doing her exercises. She watched as Brock saddled Troy to head into town. He turned and asked her if she wanted to go with him, but she declined, saying she was still tired as she kissed him goodbye.

  Her answer was not a total falsehood. She was tired. She was also very, very sore and could not imagine having to climb on a horse and ride for any amount of time. Of course, she had always heard that it was painful the first time. She had just thought it was an old wives’ tale. That it was something that mothers told their daughters so that they would not do it. She had just not believed that it would be true and how very true it was. She wondered if the second time hurt as well. She smiled to herself hoping she would find out soon.

  Shaking her head, she went back into the house to gather up the laundry. Mrs. McAllister had a washboard and washbasin in the barn and Sabrina started a fire outside in the yard to heat up some water. She went inside to gather all of hers and Brock’s dirty laundry. She didn’t care much for the chore. Not only was it time consuming but also backbreaking. She would rather muck out a stable any day than do laundry. Finally, after several hours, she hung up all of the clean wash on the line, and stood back to admire her handiwork. She frowned, noticing the rusty stain still visible on Brock’s sheets. She had scrubbed it and scrubbed it but it was still there. It was a lot lighter than it had been and she hoped that he would not notice.

  Worn out, she headed inside to lie down for a bit. It was near dusk when she awoke. Cursing herself for sleeping so late she ran outside to bring in the laundry before it got damp from dew. She made the bed first so she could sit on it as she folded the other garments. She knew Brock would be in late since he had the morning off. She set about making supper for them, hoping he would arrive soon. He still had not arrived by the time she was done eating so, to occupy her mind, she took out her notepaper and started to write.

  She pondered for a long while whom she should write. Only one person popped into her mind. Warren. Gathering her thoughts and her courage, she put pen to paper.

  Sabrina read the short note several times before folding it and addressing it to Warren. She left the return address section blank. Not knowing where he was at the time she sent it to their home in Mississippi, figuring it would be delivered to him eventually. She was nervous about mailing it but knew she needed too. She could now put her demons behind her and move on in her new life.

  Brock rode in shortly after she placed the letter in her saddlebag so she could mail it the next day. He had barely dismounted from his horse when she threw her arms around him, hugging him tightly. She told him about her letter, and he told her he was proud of her for being so brave. He jokingly asked if he could collect the reward money for her and she punched him in the arm. Laughing he pulled away to unsaddle Troy.

  He then scooped Sabrina up in his arms and carried her to their bed. She laughed, carefree for the first time in ages as he set her on her feet so he could pull back the covers. Even in the dim light his sharp eyes could make out the stain.

  Seeing his gaze, Sabrina stammered out. “I’m sorry, I washed most of it out.”

  Brock captured her face in his hands. “No, I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to harm you.”

  Sabrina pulled him down to kiss him. “It’s okay. If you want to make it up to me you can do the laundry next time.”

  “I can think of a better way to make it up to you,” he said huskily, pulling her clothes off and setting her down on the bed. He pushed her back down gently so her legs were hanging off the edge as he knelt between them on the floor. She gasped in surprise as his fingers gently parted her folds and his tongue lapped at her entrance. Before she lost all conscious thought, she announced, “You’re still doing the wash.”

  Chapter 17

  Heading to town early the next morning Sabrina was more embarrassed than ever. She blushed every time she looked at Brock’s smirking face. She brought tack cleaner with her, hoping it worked on wood as well as leather. She had found it in the barn along with some other tools. She planned to clean the piano after she dropped off her letter at the post. Since the train had come, it made mail delivery much faster.

  The Swan was almost empty since it was still early in the day and she commandeered a nearby table to hold her tools as she worked. She opened up the top, tsking at the state the piano was in. It was about fifty years old and made by Appleton, Hayt & Babcock. Ironically, they were out of Boston, where Warren wanted to send her. It had warped a bit due to the humidity and it looked as if it had been a home for insects and rodents at some point. She was very glad that none of them lived there now. She borrowed an old paint brush from Mac and started sweeping up the dust and grime.

  “How’s it going, Will?” a deep voice asked and she stood up quickly, hitting her head on the piano lid. Cursing, she stared angrily at Thomas who apologized instantly for scaring her. He tried to look at her head but she swatted him away.

  “I’m fine,” she hissed checking the piano to make sure she did not damage it.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you–at least let me buy you lunch.”

  She hesitated at that. She knew that Mac or Brock would feed her but she did not like being a burden to them all the time. Moreover, it was Thomas’ fault that she had hit her head.

  “Oh, all right,” she assented reluctantly. Smiling brightly at her, he headed to the counter to order.

  He came back and sat down next to her as they waited for their food. Her head still throbbed and she put her hand up to rub it, hoping to ease the pain. Thomas stood up instantly to check out the injury. She sighed and gave in. She was getting a headache and did not feel like arguing with him. His hands thoroughly checked every inch of her head and even her neck before she pulled away.

  “Am I gonna live?” she asked sarcastically.

  “Oh yes,” he assured her as Mac brought their food over.

  She ate quickly so she could get back to work on the piano. The food was very good and seemed to be helping her headache fade. The door opened and a familiar figure filled the doorway. He nodded in her direction before heading to the bar in back to order lunch. He spoke to Mac for a short while and headed over to their table. Thomas motioned for him to join them and received a grateful smile from Sabrina.

  “You okay? Mac said. “You bumped your head pretty hard.”

  “It was my fault,” said Thomas. “I surprised him.”

  “I’m just dandy.”

  Brock looked at her questioningly. “You sure about that?”

  “I’m fine,” Sabrina said. She was getting really annoyed by all of the attention. Brock’s food soon arrived and she was grateful for the distraction. He and Thomas struck up a conversation as she ate her meal. Brock was asking him about a patient. A man had gotten his arm caught up in a machine at the mill. Thomas was explaining in grave detail how they had to remove his limb due to the damage. The conversation was making her lose her appetite.

  Sabrina pushed her plate back and she started packing up her cleaning items. She would have to come back tomorrow and work on it. When she bent over, all the blood rushed to her head, causing it to throb. It was going to take a lot of work to get the piano in playing order. Since it was not working anyway, she stored her items under the lid to clear off Mac’s table. She nodded to the men, waved goodbye to Mac and headed outside to where she had tied Justice.

  Missing the solitude of the river, she headed for her tree and let Justice graze nearby. T
he water was always soothing to her. Settling down on the ground, she sat watching the ripples dance across the surface. That, with the low roar of the distant waterfall, was mesmerizing. She wasn’t sure how long she sat there enjoying the crisp chill in the air. She became aware of a shadow blocking out the afternoon sun and looked up, slightly alarmed.

  Brock sat down next to her.

  “You okay?” he asked in concern, not just referring to her sore head.

  “I just have a lot on my mind is all,” she said, still having to look up at him even though they were both sitting. “I don’t know; it just seems weird is all. I mean everything seemed like normal today until you came in. Then I felt…different.”

  “Different how?” he asked as she lapsed back into silence.

  Finally she said, “It’s hard to explain, I mean you treated me no different than before you found out I was a girl. But, it bothered me. I wanted you to acknowledge me. To treat me like you do when we are alone together. I know that all of this is entirely my fault–that you are just doing what I asked you to do. Still, I guess what I’m saying is that maybe I’ve been wrong. I’m tired of pretending and I’m not sure how to set things right.”

  Brock felt the urge to draw her into his arms so he did. He hugged her close and kissed her forehead. “Why don’t you go home and we’ll work it out together?” She nodded as he stood up, pulling her up with him. She headed off on Justice as he returned to his duties.

  Sabrina was in the house cooking when Brock walked in later that day. She was checking her boiling pot of potatoes to see if they were tender enough to start mashing. She was surprised when Brock walked up behind her and encircled her with his arms. Pulling her back against his chest, he leaned down to kiss her cheek. Sabrina settled back into his arms, seeking his strength, and he turned her around to face him as he pulled her away from the stove.

  He still held her tightly against his body, her every curve melding into his. He whispered into her ear. “I can’t take much more of this pretending either. Every time I see you in town. I just wanna do this…” Brock said. Pulling her head back with one hand and bringing his mouth down to hers, he kissed her deeply. Sabrina gasped into his mouth as she kissed him back; his other hand pulled her tightly against him and she could feel his hardening groin.

  She placed her hands on his firm shoulders for support as her knees weakened. Caught up in the moment she barely realized she had moved as he guided her down to his bed. Whereas before he had always been slow and gentle when they made love, this time he took her hard and fast. Sabrina could do nothing but hold on for the ride as she gasped for breath. He pulled away from her trembling body a short time later kissed her gently, and went to finish supper.

  Too tired to carry on a coherent conversation, she fell asleep soon after eating. She figured it was only fair for Brock to clean up as well as cook since he stole all of her energy.

  Chapter 18

  Next morning Sabrina elected to stay home. She didn’t need any more self-conscious encounters. She hadn’t had time to talk to Brock much and wanted to think on it some more. It made sense for her to wait to talk to Mr. Swanson first. He was always so good and kind to her. She wanted him to know first.

  Another week had passed and the piano was finally finished. Some of the strings were broken but she was able to tune the others. She felt proud of her accomplishment and Mac was astounded. Brock, knowing her background and her love for music, was not surprised. With the piano finished, she decided to stay at the house to see what she could do to make the place more homey.

  Since her hand was now fully healed, she decided to tackle the vegetable garden. She also wanted to talk to Brock about perhaps getting some chickens and maybe a cow. She did not know how he would feel about that. In some ways, he seemed as reluctant as she to conform.

  Dragging herself away from her thoughts, she got busy. The garden was not going to weed itself. Heading to the barn she grabbed a hoe and a small spade. Looking at the ragged patch, she pondered where to start. It seemed a formidable task but she was glad for the distraction.

  Choosing a corner nearest the house she went to work. Although harvest season was over, she wanted to do what she could before winter set in. The more work she did now, the less work would be needed in the spring. She grabbed the spade and began hacking away at the weeds strangling the vegetable vines. It was hard work and after only two hours, her shoulders and arms burned from the effort. She did not know how the fragile Sarah McAllister handled it by herself for all of those years. Apparently, she was a lot tougher than Sabrina gave her credit for.

  She stopped for a quick break to stretch out her back and arms. She took a couple sips from the water bucket and wiped her brow. She looked down at herself covered in dirt and smiled. She was filthy but had made a lot of progress so far. It felt good to work again.

  She heard a horse in the distance and frowned. Brock usually did not stop by in the middle of the day. She really hoped that it was not Thomas. Her hand was fine now.

  Using caution, she snuck around the house so she could see the trail. Peeking around the corner, she could only see one person and it was neither Thomas nor Brock. It was a stranger and, strangers, even if there was only one of them, was one too many. She cursed herself, recalling that the gun that Mr. Swanson had let her keep was still inside, hanging up in the holster on the wall. She watched as he dismounted and let himself inside the house. She snuck back and grabbed the spade as she tiptoed closer so she could peek through the window. There was not much inside the house worth putting up a fight for, so she wondered what he was doing. She held her breath as she leaned forward and peered through the window. She was surprised and angry as she realized that he had lain down on their bed as if he owned the place.

  Her anger outweighing her common sense, she moved quietly over to the door and lifted the latch. The door was thrown open with a bang. Before she could react, she found herself on the ground with an extremely large Indian on top of her. Her hands were held above her head, the spade still clutched tightly in her fist.

  Sabrina couldn’t tell if the man’s smile was lecherous or good-natured . His legs were on either side of hers. Sabrina’s instincts kicked in as she brought her knee up as hard and fast as she could. He let go immediately, doubling over, as she sprang to her feet. Frightened, she held the spade in front of her as if it was a long sword.

  The man cursed in pain as he looked up at her. Pushing himself up he sat back on his haunches with his knees firmly together. Staring at her closely, his whole demeanor changed. He actually chuckled as he spoke. “I’m sorry ma’am, I didn’t realize…”

  She glared down at him, interrupting. “How did you know?” she asked a bit nervously, as she backed up a couple more steps, trying to stall as she ran through the options in her head.

  “No man would do that. It is either an act of a coward or a woman. You are no coward. It also explains why Brock wanted me to wait for him in town instead of coming here to rest after my long journey.”

  “You know Brock?” Sabrina asked, relaxing slightly.

  “He is my brother.”

  She frowned at that, Brock had never mentioned having a brother before. She studied the man in front of her, still sitting patiently. Yes, he definitely looked similar to Brock, though Brock’s lips were more full. The man’s hair was perfectly straight and black and hung down to his shoulders. He appeared younger than Brock–around her age, perhaps.

  Slowly lowering her weapon, she took another step back and gave him room to stand. He jumped to his feet in one lithe movement. She looked up at him, way up. He was taller than Brock, and Brock was a tall man.

  “You should never lower your weapon when you are unsure,” he advised her. “How do you know I’m telling you the truth?”

  Sabrina rolled her eyes. “First of all, if you meant to do me harm you would not have been so careless when you had me down in the first place. Second, you look a lot like Brock. Third, I stepped back so I co
uld grab my gun. A much better weapon than a spade, don’t you think?” she asked, bringing the gun out from behind her back and leveling it at his chest.

  He laughed aloud with mirth. “Pretty and smart. Shame that Brock found you first, but I’m willing to share,” he said as his gaze raked over her.

  They heard a horse in the distance and they both watched out the window as Brock rode up running Troy hard. He hopped off before the horse had even come to a complete stop and swung open the door.

  He stopped short, taking in the scene before him, as he scowled at his brother. “I told you to wait for me. You okay, Will?” he asked stepping towards Sabrina. “I’m fine,” she assured him, lowering her weapon.

  Brock took a deep breath trying to calm down. “Will, this is my brother, Chase. Chase, my friend Will.”

  “Friend, huh?” Chase said smiling even wider as he held his hand out for Will to shake. Sabrina took a reluctant step forward and shook hands. His larger hand engulfed hers completely and she ended up having to jerk it away as he held on longer than was necessary. Watching the exchange, Brock scowled.

  “He knows,” she stated simply.

  Chase laughed again. “Kinda hard not to tell when you’re lying on top of a woman.”

  Brock took a menacing step towards him but was stopped by a small, but firm hand on his chest. “There was a scuffle; I kneed him between the legs.”

  It was Brock’s turn to laugh. He put his arm around her shoulder and pulled her into his side as if to claim his territory.

  “You two talk; I’ll take care of Troy,” Sabrina said kissing his cheek before she left.

  Chase raised an eyebrow. “She takes care of your horse too? Where on earth did you find her?”

  Brock sighed, sitting down on his bed as his brother sat on one of the chairs at the table. “I met her at the livery in town,” he answered honestly, even though he knew that the truth would only raise more questions. He changed the subject. “How is father? Explain what happened.”