The Stafford Collection, Historical Western Romances (5 page)

Sabrina’s arms were tired; the water put more force on the cloth than she had predicted and her muscles were starting to burn.  Not wanting to show her fatigue, she grabbed the next panel and headed back across the creek.

They repeated the procedure until Brock pulled a little too hard when they were rinsing it and Sabrina cried out as she lost her footing.  The water grabbed her and carried her downstream at a surprisingly fast pace.  Brock jumped back onto land and ran down, trying to catch up to Will.  The creek had a sharp bend up ahead and Sabrina was washed up onto  the bank.

Brock leaped over the creek to the other side. He ran up and rolled her over onto her back with worry spread across his face.  Sabrina broke out into laughter

“That was so much fun!  You’ll have to try it!”  she said to Brock, her green eyes sparkling as she looked up at him with water dripping down her face.

Brock’s whole
I told you so
speech went right out of his head when he looked into Sabrina’s eyes. 

He stared captivated at her green eyes.  “I never noticed your eyes are green.”  Sabrina’s eyes turned sad and she got slowly to her feet.  She normally kept her hat pulled low to cover her unusual eye color. Looking around, she spotted her hat caught on a branch nearby at the edge of the creek and plopped it on her head. 

She felt a shadow pass over her and looked around to find Brock near.

“Didn’t mean to upset you,
” he said softly.

Sabrina sighed. She was not acting like a boy right now. Shrugging, she finally replied. “My mom had green eyes; she and my family were murdered.  That’s how I ended up alone.”

“Indians?” 

Sabrina snorted, “No, Indians would have been more merciful.”  Turning she made her way back down to their horses to finish the last curtain.

They sat in the shade of the afternoon sun, letting the wind and heat dry the curtains.  It was so peaceful listening to the running water Sabrina’s eyes soon started to droop and before she knew it, she was out. 

Brock sat staring at the boy while he slept.  He could not explain it but he felt somehow responsible for Will’s
well-being. He was much older than the boy when he set out on his own and it was a long hard road.  Maybe he could get a place and take him in.  Sleeping in a stable was no way to live.  He’d talk to Mr. Swanson about it later. 

Sabrina woke up and stretched; she could not remember the last time she had slept so well.  She looked over at her companion and was amused to see he was asleep.  She took her time looking him over, from the small scar above his left eyebrow to his finely chiseled lips, nose and chin;  down his broad shoulders to his belted waist and finally to his rather large boots.  For the first time in
a while she was sad.  Before he came to town she felt her life was whole.  Between her job with the horses and her easygoing friendship with Mac and Mr. Swanson, she didn’t really have time to think or be sad. But now, at nineteen she was maturing in ways beyond her control.  When Brock came to town, she realized she wasn’t complete.  She wanted more. She wanted him.

A battle was raging inside of her; keep up her safety net or give in to her urges and let the devil be damned.  She wanted so much just to reach out and touch his black curls. Suddenly his eyes opened and he stretched.

“We’d better get headed back,” said Sabrina.  “They can finish drying while they hang.”  She jumped to her feet and went over to Star who was grazing nearby. 

Brock sat up raising an eyebrow. More instructions.  Sighing, he, too, climbed to his feet and ambled over to fold curtains.  He didn’t believe that folding curtains was in his job description.  Maybe he should begin thinking about a wife. 

The ride back to town was peaceful.  The sun was dropping in the sky and casting long shadows before them.  They stopped at the stables and Sabrina was surprised when Brock led Troy inside himself. 

“Don’t trust me with your horse?”
she questioned, as she brushed down Star for the night. 

“I think you’ve done enough work on your day off,” Brock reminded her, holding out payment for her help.  She hesitated just a second before taking it.  It would look very odd if she refused the money.

“Night, Will,” he said, ruffling her hair as he left.

Chapte
r
4

B
rock sat at his desk, going over the papers that had not been destroyed by the rodents.  He had carefully cleaned the inside of the windows and hung the curtains back up this morning.

He was busy making two piles; one to discard and one to keep.  Mostly it was old statements from incidents and wanted posters.  While he was cleaning out a drawer, he came across a folded piece of paper he had missed before.  Unfolding it, he sat staring into the eyes of a beautiful young woman.  At the top, bold letters spelled out “Reward.”  Reading further, it detailed the reward would be paid if the girl was returned unharmed. The claim would be paid by Attorney, Warren Lovett. A knock on his door disturbed him, and he added it to the keep pile. 

Looking up, he was dismayed to see Miss Reynold, complete with picnic basket. “Good afternoon!  I figured you’d be too busy to sneak out and eat so I brought you some food.”  She pushed a pile of papers onto the floor to make room for her basket as she sat it on the desk. Brock gritted his teeth.

“I had our cook whip up some fried chicken for you.  Having you here is such a relief!  Why, our last
sheriff was just a joke!  Spent most of his time in the saloon.  Even died there---heart gave out is what I heard.”  She glanced around for another chair.  Not finding one, she just stood awkwardly as she realized he had not spoken a word to her.

Brock took a deep breath before replying. “Thank you, ma’am. I’ll be sure to return the basket when I’m done.” He bent his head back down to his work in silent dismissal. She humphed and spun out in a flurry of blue gingham. 

Sabrina could not concentrate on her work.  She put the wrong-sized shoe on a horse and had to correct it.  After completing that
duty she headed inside to soap down the leather in the tack room.  The rich smell of the leather soap was soothing to her and she was finally able to focus on the task at hand. As she worked, the warm woodsy fragrance seeped into her brain and dragged her thoughts back to the good Sheriff. He had a natural inviting musk about him. Perhaps he used the same leather soap, Sabrina imagined, he did, after all, wear a leather vest.  Needing a break to clear her thoughts, she saddled up Star and rode down to the river.

The Arkansas River was a flurry of activity.  She dismounted and sat on the bank, giving her a good view of the ferry crossing. From her vantage point she could also take in the newly constructed railroad bridge. The bridge took years to build and now the iron horse can chug across the river on its way to California. Sabrina was not fond of trains, perhaps it was due to the train taking her away from her home by force or perhaps the fact that the blare of the horn at all hours of the day and night spooked the horses. Being stepped on by a frightened horse was not fun. Progress: it was useful but still kinda sad seeing an end to the olden days.

She yawned, leaning back against a maple tree. She took a sandwich out of her saddlebag and began her lunch.  The river was a great place to fish.  It was full of catfish and big striped bass.  Samuel would like it here. Thinking of Samuel, she took another bite of her sandwich.  She wondered what he was doing right now.  Was he still at Montgomery or did he, like her, strike out on his, own. She knew that, no matter where he went, he would take Alma with him. Remembering Alma’s savory homemade cooking, Sabrina crammed the last bit of dry sandwich in her mouth and rode back to town.

Brock was leaning against the
sheriff’s office and waved her over as she passed. Hesitating just a second, she reined in Star and hopped off.

“I wanted to show you I got everything finished.”

Sabrina looked at him oddly.  Why did he care what she thought?  She stepped inside, noticing the neat desk with all of the posters pinned up next to it. Frowning she took a step closer to them. Her eyes landed on the reward poster closest to his desk. It stood out among the most up-to-date wanted posters. Her likeness stared back at her and she slowly looked away, frowning. Quickly looking around, she noticed the still broken cell door and commented on it to distract both of them.

“Yup, the hinge is warped. I have to find a blacksmith. I don’t think there’s a shop in town and the dang thing is too heavy to move easily.”

“Actually Ed Johnson has an anvil and some tools.  He hangs out in the saloon sometimes. I know he’s done some work for the railroad here and there.”

Brock nodded his approval. “I’ll look him up, thanks.”

She excused herself and beat it back to the stables, her heart racing as she tried to think. Obviously, he saw the stupid reward poster. All he had to do was add two plus two together; she was surprised he hadn’t recognized that the facial features were very familiar. Men could be so dim sometimes. In fact, she had half a mind to sneak into his office and rip down the blasted poster but it would be too conspicuous if it was missing.  The longer that poster was up, the more likely it was that someone might eventually recognize that she was not a boy.  Plus, she knew Brock had a very sharp eye and took his job seriously.

The next couple of days she didn’t see him at all.  Not that she was looking for him. Troy was left in the stables during that time and he was getting restless.  Concerned for the horse’s welfare she considered saddling him and riding him herself. It was against Mr. Swanson’s rules but a horse like Troy needed to get out and stretch his legs.  She moved over to offer him a carrot and was patting his nose when she heard the door creak behind her.  She turned around to find Brock standing there, observing her.

She glared up at him as her stomach tightened involuntarily. “You shouldn’t neglect your horse.  I was just about to go down to your office and drag you up here. He’s getting antsy; he needs a good run.”

Brock was angry not only at the audacity that Will had to talk to him like that but also because he was guilty.  He had been neglecting Troy. He had been walking the town
, meeting the shopkeepers, and such trying to pick up on any important gossip about any unlawful elements in town. He had met with the board members and smiled and behaved as he was expected to. Now all he wanted to do was go for a long hard ride and this boy was talking down to him.

“I’ve been taking care of horses before you were born.  You need to mind your mouth before someone does it for you,” Brock said. 

Will snorted at the idle threat. Sabrina was very good at reading people.  She knew that Brock didn’t mean his words; he was just pissed because she was right.  She turned and was on her way down to grab Troy’s saddle when Brock stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. 

“I’ll take care of it,” he said, still agitated.  Apparently, the boy wasn’t taught to use the good sense God gave him. Someone needed to teach him that, if he acted like that towards the wrong person, he wouldn’t fare too well out here in the West. Brock could snap him in two if he wanted, yet the boy was not afraid of him.  He even seemed to be mocking him at times.

He quickly saddled Troy and rode off to explore the outskirts of the growing town. He glanced back once, surprised to find Will watching him ride away from the doorway.  He had a guilty feeling in the pit of his stomach, as if he had done something wrong.  Shaking his head, he gave Troy a nudge with his knee and let the horse open up and run to clear both of their minds.

Sabrina took a deep breath watching him go. She loved her job and “home” with Mr. Swanson, at least most of the time, but she missed her freedom---the freedom to do whatever she wanted, when she wanted to do it.  Samuel had always said that she was spoiled. She had always told him that he was full of crap but maybe he was right. She was spoiled or at least she had been, she thought, looking into the horse trough and grimacing at her reflection in the water. “Mirror, Mirror,” she murmured to herself, thinking of an old story her mother used to tell her to get her to go to sleep at night.  Sighing, she dunked in her bucket and hauled it back to the horses.  She had half a mind to sneak into his office and rip down the blasted poster, but it would be too conspicuous if it was missing.  Maybe it wouldn’t be quite so obvious later?

She didn’t know why she had been so melancholy lately. Maybe ‘cause she didn’t  feel well, her back was hurting her and her stomach was cramping.  Realization dawned on her, and she closed her eyes.  Her curse was coming on. Yes, that must be why she had been so out of sorts lately. Going to her small trunk of belongings, she grabbed the rags buried at the bottom and snuck off to the outhouse for privacy.

She then headed over to the saloon to grab a bite to eat. Mac grinned one of his rare grins as he saw her sit down.  Setting down her Sarsparilla, he squinted at her.

“You’re looking kinda peaked. I’ll fix ya a nice steak. That’ll perk you up some,” Mac said, nodding, and Sabrina smiled her thanks.

She did not realize how hungry she was until he put the sizzling strip of steak in front of her, baked potato and all. She dug in hungrily.

“What do you think of the new Sheriff?”  Mac asked, watching her closely.

She shrugged, hoping he couldn’t see her warm face. She thought of Brock riding off on Troy with his muscular thighs gripping the wild horse tightly to control him.

“He has a good horse.”  She swallowed a juicy bit of steak and heard Mac’s hearty laughter. 

“I like him,” a voice said next to her, as Thomas Reynold took the stool beside her.

“Seems like your whole family likes him,” Sabrina mumbled a little too loud.

Thomas just laughed. “There are not many men that Sally doesn’t like. Why do you think I’m ordered to chaperone her everywhere?”

Sabrina took her first real look at Thomas.  He had light blonde hair that was thick, clean and healthy and rested comfortably on the collar of his crisp white shirt.

She wondered how the heck he could keep his shirt so white with all this dust and asked him. 

He grinned ruefully.  “I have to change it several times a day.”

She looked down at her own worn, once beige, shirt. It was now a dirty brown color and she frowned. Her thoughts wandered back to the dress she had seen in the window when she first met Brock and her abdomen clenched again. Shrugging it off, she quickly finished her steak, excused herself and she headed back to the livery. Troy was still out so she headed to his stall to clean it while he was gone. After putting in fresh hay, she stretched her sore muscles and sat down on a hay bale.  She did not typically sleep well at night--- too many bad dreams. She was so tired that if she closed her eyes to rest for a few seconds she was quite likely to doze off. 

Brock rode into the livery feeling refreshed.  They had ridden down to Keystone and back.  Brock hated being stuck inside and much preferred being out in the fresh air. He was surprised and a bit disappointed that Will was not there to greet him. He was hard on the boy this morning and he regretted it for reasons he could not explain.  Frowning, he dismounted and guided Troy inside.  He opened the door to the stall that Troy normally used and was brought up short by the sight of Will sleeping in the hay. 

His hat had fallen off and his face was very smooth, like baby skin.  He had a strange urge to reach out and touch it to see if it was just as soft. He took in the now closed eyes remembering their vivid greenness as Will laughed in delight when Brock pulled him out of the stream. Again, something ticked at the back of his brain and he shook his head to clear it. He nudged the boy’s leg with his foot.

Sabrina awoke instantly, her heart pounding in her chest.  She looked up at the man above her and relaxed a little, recognizing Brock.

“Sorry, sir,
” she mumbled, quickly scampering to her feet and plopping her hat down low on her head.  She reached out for Troy’s reins but Brock did not release them.

“Must be hard sleeping in the stable,” Brock commented.

Sabrina averted his prying gaze.  “Not too bad.  I’ve slept in worse places. Pretty quiet at night, until the train comes by,” she said, grinning wryly.

Brock smiled down at the boy. He was tough, he reminded him of himself when he was younger. “I’ll take care of Troy; go get some rest,
” he ordered.

Sabrina bristled but she bit her lip to keep from talking and headed to the stall next door.  It had a knothole in one of the boards so she could keep watch. Peeking through the opening she watched him closely. His biceps contracted and relaxed beneath his taut shirtsleeves as he methodically and expertly brushed down the large horse. Her eyelids felt heavy again as the soothing rhythm soon entranced her. Taking Brock’s advice she climbed up into the loft and fell asleep.

She awoke early the next morning at the break of dawn. The pink and orange light was dancing in through the windows. Feeling an unusual heaviness on her, she looked down and realized that someone had covered her up while she slept. Recognizing Troy’s thick horse blanket she blushed, knowing who it was.  She hoped she didn’t snore. She got up and headed to the outhouse to start her day.

Brock awoke at about the same time.  Since it looked like he would be here a while, he decided to get his own place. He had
never had his own place before; moving from town to town he never had any urge to settle down. He was unsure why he felt the need to settle down here, now, but he trusted his gut. His gut told him that this was home.

Widow Hawking had been so kind to him, he felt bad about leaving, but he finally approached her and inquired if she knew any acceptable places to rent or buy.