“I thought about cutting it down,” a quiet voice spoke from behind her.
Sabrina turned to find Warren standing there holding his hat in his hand as he chose to stare at the ground.
“I have many memories of this tree. I remember Momma scolding me for climbing too high in the branches, and Papa pushing me on the old wooden swing. Not all of them are bad. I’m glad you didn’t.”
She turned into his arms hugging him for strength as they both cried for their loss. Sabrina sniffed, pulling away yet still holding tightly onto Warren’s hand for support. Her eyes flickered back up and she briefly returned her gaze to the newly budding boughs outlined by the colorful light. Life does go on, even though it’s hard.
Hearing horses in the distance, Sabrina and Warren both turned to watch Samuel and Brock ride up to meet them in the yard. Brock dismounted and came up to give her a shy kiss on her cheek. Unabashed, she pulled him down to kiss his lips before kissing his neck as well.
“Umm, you’re sweaty,” she whispered, mischievously licking the salt off her lips.
“Samuel gave me a tour of the ranch.”
She turned to glare at her friend. “You could have waited for me,” she accused.
“Well… I just thought… In your condition…”
The glare got harsher as Samuel started to squirm.
“I’M NOT AN INVALID! I’M HAVING A BABY!”
“Sorry, ’rina. Brock said you couldn’t ride,” Samuel said, smoothly passing off her anger to Brock.
“I’ll take care of the horses,” Samuel gallantly offered planning his escape.
“Well at least I can give you a tour of the house,” she grumbled as Brock and Samuel glanced at each other, daring the other to speak. She glared at them both before grabbing Brock’s hand, squeezing it tighter than need be, leading him to the house and leaving Warren to follow with a smile.
The front door opened up into a great room. To the left was a hallway leading to the master and guest bedrooms and the stairs to the upper floor. Taking the time to look around the room for the first time since she arrived, Sabrina became overwhelmed. Her gaze took in the large portrait over the fireplace; she walked over slowly as if in a trance.
The painting was of the entire family. Looking up into her parents’ faces for the first time in years brought tears to her eyes. In the picture her parents were young and smiling. The artist had captured every brilliant detail in color, from her mother’s brilliant red locks to her father’s olive complexion and almost black hair. Below them were their three children. Warren and Lydia both redheaded like their mother and Sabrina with her waist-length dark hair right in the middle of everyone.
Sabrina looked at her three-year-old self in the portrait. She felt Brock wrap his arm around her waist for comfort and gratefully leaned into his side.
“How?”
“I had a photograph with me in Boston. I commissioned an artist to paint it from that. I described the colors as best I could remember them.”
“It’s perfect,” she said with tears running down her cheek. Brock wiped them away in concern.
“Are you okay, love?”
Sabrina nodded sniffling. She had put this off long enough.
“Perhaps I should take over the tour,” Warren said, patting her shoulder as he moved to show them the grand piano he had imported from France crouching in the corner.
The piano reminded Sabrina of Ted Roberts and a chill crept down her spine as she tried to ignore it. Sabrina loved playing music when she was younger. Ted, drawn to the music, had become obsessed with her and ended up killing her family to keep them from coming between them.
As if reading her mind, Brock hugged her tighter. This was much harder than she thought it would be. Next came the library which Warren used as his office when he was home. He was an attorney and traveled most of the time with the circuit Court Judge.
The kitchen was next. Brock was astonished by the large wooden counter and cabinets. It had two stoves and a built-in water pump over the sink.
“I made a bit of a change,” Warren confessed, opening up a door at the end of the kitchen. Sabrina was awed by the small room Warren had added on next to it. Inside was a porcelain, claw-foot tub large enough for two. Caught up in her daydreams, she barely paid attention as Warren explained to Brock that it was set up to drain outside when the stopper was pulled.
He headed back the way they came to show them the other rooms downstairs. The large dining room fascinated Brock. Growing up, most of his meals were served sitting on the ground. There were two bedrooms on that level. One was his and the other one he had Alma set up for Brock’s parents. He placed them on the main floor due to Jonathan’s injury. Brock thanked him for being so considerate.
Warren led them upstairs, pointing out the other rooms and the attic. Sabrina sadly walked around the almost empty room. The attic ran the entire length of the large home and she remembered her and Lydia playing hide-and-seek in its depths. Her eyes burned with unshed tears and she took a deep breath to calm herself. Yes, she was home but it was not the same.
Brock, sensing her distress, took her hand and lead her back downstairs. They could hear Alma in the kitchen getting ready for supper and she went to join her.
“Need any help?”
Alma looked up from lighting the fire in the stove. “I dunno ’bout that. Do you plan on setting the curtains on fire again?”
“No, ma’am. Actually, Brock has been giving me lessons. He says I’m getting pretty good.”
“Hmff, men will say anything to get what they want. But you can help by cleaning those chickens,” she said with a knowing look at Sabrina’s belly.
Sabrina looked over to the sideboard and frowned at the four dead chickens lying on the table, feathers and all. She was thankful Alma had rung their necks; she wasn’t sure if she was up to that task. Nodding to herself for courage, she grasped the first one by the neck and carefully started to pluck out the large tail feathers one by one. A shadow moved next to her and she watched as Alma picked up another one, taking large handfuls of feathers from the wings and working her way down. Sabrina switched her method to match Alma’s and was pleased to see her progress as the tender pinkish skin was revealed.
Alma moved away without a sound and returned to the stove to start the water boiling for dumplings.
A young black woman entered through the back door and nodded somewhat nervously to Sabrina.
“Just in time,” Alma said welcoming the newcomer. “Jasmine, this is Sabrina. Jasmine lives in town. Warren hired her to help me out with all the company coming.”
Sabrina smiled at her. “Nice to meet you, Jasmine.”
“Thank you, Miss Lovett.”
“Oh no, please call me Sabrina. I couldn’t tell you the last time I’ve been called Miss,” she said with a twinkle in her eye as she thought back to all the years she spent pretending to be a boy.
Jasmine joined Sabrina at the table. She held in her hand a long sharp knife with a thin blade. Sabrina watched as she quickly cut off the head and feet and skillfully split the chicken down the middle. Seeing the birds’ intestines spill out, Sabrina’s stomach lurched and she hurried outside to vomit.
She moved to the outside pump to cleanse her mouth and wash her face off.
Once she felt settled she returned back to the kitchen where Alma immediately put her to work at the stove making hoe cakes instead.
Hoe cakes were Sabrina’s favorite. She wondered if Alma knew that or just liked them herself. She remembered the first time she tasted one. Her father had told them stories of the Civil War, about the soldiers’ plight, and the lack of food and equipment. He spoke of how the soldiers used their trench shovels to cook over the fire. They would mix up a thick cornbread batter and pour it onto the blade. Holding it over the open blaze it would bake into a handy pancake like bread that they could hold with their hand and eat or save for later.
Encouraged by her children, her mother mixed up some batte
r and fried it in her iron skillet with a bit of bacon grease. The first bite into the crispy concoction and Sabrina was hooked. She was glad to be making them herself now instead of dealing with the chickens.
In the meantime Warren pulled Brock into his office. Offering him a cigar, Brock declined.
“I’m very grateful that you took up my offer to come to Montgomery.”
“It was Sabrina’s decision. They are her demons and it is up to her to confront them or not.”
“Nevertheless, it is good for her to be home. I would like to request, for proprieties’ sake, that until the wedding you sleep separately. I would not want to affront any of the guests.”
Brock snorted as his already tense body tightened. “First of all, it saddens me that you would care about others’ opinions over that of your own sister. Secondly, we are wed under Comanche law, which you may not uphold but I do. Third, Sabrina does not sleep well alone; she has night terrors. If you want any of your guests getting rest, you may want to reconsider your request. Not to mention the fact that it should be quite obvious to everyone that we have been together since she is carrying my child.
On that note it is, nevertheless, your house, and I will respect your wishes. Although, I doubt that your guests are as ignorant as you believe them to be. I think it’s a little late to pass Sabrina off as a virgin.” Brock stood in anger and nodded to Warren before leaving the suddenly cold room.
Brock stepped out on the front porch and took some deep breaths. He hated when people treated him like something they stepped in. That is one reason why he was not up front with his heritage. The reason he chose to follow his father’s path instead of that of his mothers’ ancestors. He had just realized that he had been lying to himself all these years and he was ashamed. To think he had been angry at Sabrina for pretending to be something she was not when he was doing the same damn thing. He let out a sigh.
“Rough day?” a voice asked.
Brock jumped as he turned to face Riley who was seated in a rocking chair nearby.
“Just had a talk with Warren.”
Riley laughed motioning to the chair next to him for Brock to sit. Brock shook his head as he still tried to calm his anger.
“Well, if you were with Warren, it was probably more like a ‘listen’ than a talk. Warren’s a good man, but he does tend to get his priorities messed up though. As I’m sure you know.”
Brock nodded sitting down next to Riley. They sat in a comfortable silence. Brock rocked slowly as the breeze and motion calmed him.
Dinner, however, was an awkward affair. Brock was quiet leaving the others to carry on the conversations. Sabrina was still queasy and was only able to nibble on a hoe cake. She could not even look at the fried chicken. She did not know if she would ever be able to eat chicken again. Excusing herself from the table, Brock followed.
“You okay?” he asked in concern as they entered the family room.
“Just a bit tired.” She told him about the chickens and he smiled.
“You should have called me; I would have helped. “
“I know,” she said, settling into his arms and stretching up to hug him. Their lips met gently in a sweet kiss. “Let’s go to bed.”
Brock pulled away reluctantly. “Maybe we should sleep separately until the wedding.”
Sabrina frowned. “What are you talking about?”
“I just thought it might not look well.”
Sabrina took a step back and crossed her arms in anger. “Where is this coming from? I know this is not coming from you. It’s Warren, isn’t it?”
“Warren is just thinking about your welfare.”
“If Warren was worried about my welfare, he would keep his stupid mouth shut,” she said as she turned to head back into the dining area.
Warren paused with the fork full of blackberry cobbler halfway to his mouth as Sabrina slammed her small fist down on the table.
“I’m not even here one day and you are trying to control my life? This is my house as well as yours and I will do what I damn well please. I am not some youngster you can manipulate to your will. I never was. Brock is my chosen and we will be sharing a room and a bed. If you have a problem with that or anything else I do I suggest you discuss it with ME!”
Warren met her eyes and nodded without speaking. Taking a deep breath to calm herself, she turned to the others at the table watching with interest as they tried to hide their smiles. “Goodnight.”
“Night, sugar.”
“Sweet dreams.”
“Have fun.”
Sabrina turned to glare at Samuel’s reply as she left to head upstairs to bed with Brock.
The next morning after breakfast Sabrina took Brock on her own tour of the grounds. They walked to the river and Sabrina showed him where she had first met Samuel. He had been almost whipped to death and thrown into the river to die. Sabrina found him caught in the branches of a fallen tree overhanging the river and dragged him to shore.
Next stop was the fishing spot. The one she had snuck off to with Samuel the day her family was attacked. She stood looking at the shadows of the fish in the water remembering that day vividly. Almost trance-like, she retraced her path from years ago and stopped on the knoll above her home, remembering the carnage.
Warm hands covered her shoulders and she leaned back into Brock’s solid embrace accepting his strength. Turning into his arms she hugged him back tightly, using him as a tether to reality. Her heart was filled with sadness but she did not cry. Crying would not bring them back.
The rest of the week passed quickly, Sabrina was anxiously awaiting Brock’s family’s arrival. It would be good to have more people on her side. She was in a foul mood and Brock had refused to have sex until Thomas said it was okay. Nobody was immune from her bad temper.
She took solace in the horses. She would visit Justice and Troy daily but Brock refused to let her ride. So instead she would just visit, bring treats to the horses, and brush them down. Brock would still ride them around the ranch occasionally to keep them in shape and Sabrina would busy herself with Alma while he did.
She had missed the older woman so much. She was constantly amazed at the knowledge the woman possessed and was willing to pass on. She had learned so much about gardening, sewing, cooking, and healing. She thought back to her pitiful little overrun garden in Oklahoma and thought about how much she could improve it now with Alma’s coaching.
Her back was achy and sore from picking weeds and planting. Stretching as she stood, she decided to have a bath. She was hot from the midday sun so instead of heating the water she used it straight from the tap to cool down. Climbing in, she lay back against the cold rim to relax. She heard the door creak open slowly and sat up covering her breasts from view.
“Thought you may need some help,” Brock said, locking the door behind him as he knelt by the tub. He greeted her with a kiss. Sabrina kissed him back eagerly. It had been way too long since he had kissed her like that and she moaned out loud.
He shushed her with a chuckle as he moved behind her to lather up her hair.
Sabrina let her head lull back into his capable hands as he massaged her scalp and neck. Moving down to her shoulders, he kneaded softly releasing the stress from the past week. He lathered a cloth and scrubbed down every inch of her.
“Better?” he asked moving back to her side next to the tub.
“Mmmm,” she replied sleepily.
His hand dipped under the water to her thigh and her eyes popped open in surprise.
He trailed his fingers to the juncture of her legs as he bent down to capture her lips again. She moaned into his mouth as his fingers made their way past her soft curls to the silk below. He prodded gently before entering first one, then two into her depths.
His tongue mimicked his rhythm as his thumb rubbed her center.
Her breathing quickened and she had to pull away from his mouth so she could catch her breath. He chuckled as he kissed down her neck to her chest.
&nbs
p; She grabbed his head with both her hands as he locked onto her nipple. Twirling his tongue around first one, then the other all the while keeping up his ministrations below the water.
Sabrina cried out as her body shuddered and he moved back up to muffle her sweet cries with his mouth.
He pulled away with a final kiss as she relaxed back into the water.
“Ready to get out?” he asked with a smirk as she shook her head no. He stood up and she frowned at him reluctantly opening her eyes.
“Where are you going?”
“Outhouse,” he murmured as Sabrina smiled looking at the stretched cloth of his pants.
She settled back into the soothing water as he snuck back out.
Chapter 6
The train rumbled down the tracks taking Amelia farther and farther away from home. Although Amelia loved her family, she had always had an independent spirit and no qualms about traveling alone. She looked around the gilded traveling car and her eyes fastened on a couple across the aisle. The wife was reading with her head tilted forward and her husband’s was thrown back against the seat next to her in a deep slumber. A loud snore rattled its way up his throat and she elbowed him in the ribs as he resettled in a more comfortable position. Amelia tried to hide her smile.
She watched them for a moment pondering if that was how her parents would have been if her mother had lived. If that’s how she will be one day. Sighing, she drew her eyes away and stretched. It was nearly dusk. She figured she had better use the loo before it got any darker. She climbed to her feet and held onto the backs of the chairs to steady herself on the ever-moving floor. She clumsily made her way up the long aisle only to find she had to go into the next forward car. She took a second to fumble with the lock on the door and slide it open. The blast of wind and dust in her face pulled loose most of her hair from its pins. “So much for getting gussied up for travel,” she grumbled. Squinting her eyes, she precariously crossed the moving ground below to enter the next train. Making her way to the front, she was dismayed to find a long line and a horrible stench coming from somewhere up ahead.
The Stafford Collection, Historical Western Romances Page 29