Read Online The Stafford Collection, Historical Western Romances by Lynn Hubbard - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Lynn Hubbard
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diminished.
“It’s almost dark; you aren’t worried about him?”
“I’m sure he’s fine. He probably saw Mac at supper if you’re worried. I gotta get home before my wife skins me alive. If you wanna worry about someone, worry about me.” Mr. Swanson chuckled at his little joke as he headed down the street to his home.
Gritting his teeth, Brock rode Troy over to the saloon, tying him up outside. Taking a deep breath, he headed inside. The saloon was loud but not rowdy. He nodded to a couple of cowboys playing cards and spotted Mac headed towards him.
“Drink?” Mac asked.
“I’m looking for Will; he hasn’t come back and Jack was worried about him.” Brock was trying to act casual but Mac eyed him warily.
“Boy takes off from time to time. He’ll be back by morning.”
“Did you see him earlier? Did he say where he was going?” Brock asked, the questions pouring out faster than he wanted them to.
“He came by earlier today. I didn’t interrogate him, though. He was troubled about something, said he was gonna walk down to river. I bet ya two bits he fell asleep,” Mac said matter of factly.
Nodding his thanks, he left the saloon. A curious Mac watched him go.
He searched the boardwalk and alleyways as he rode towards the river. The fading light stretched out in long shadows making it difficult to see. He heard the water and nudged Troy toward the riverbank. Ground tying him, he eyed the earth, trampled down by dozens of feet. There were too many footprints to discern Will’s small boot print. Looking across the landscape, he saw the large oak tree and headed toward it. Spying the curled up bundle beneath the boughs, he stopped, not sure how to approach him.
He felt nervous; he took a deep breath before ducking under the branches and nudging the boy’s boot. He almost jumped as Will shot up into a sitting position, looking alarmed.
Sabrina felt a jolt of terror when she glimpsed the hulking figure towering over her. It was dark, the sun had almost completely disappeared, and she had not meant to sleep for so long. As her eyes adjusted, she recognized the tall, thin shape and frowned.
“What are you doing here?”
“Jack was worried so he sent me to find you,” Brock lied again.
Will snorted. “Well, looks like ya found me.”
“You shouldn’t be out by yourself after dark; it’s not safe.”
“Ya know, I really wish people would stop treating me like I’m a child. I’m fine.”
“Are you?” Brock asked, concerned. “Mac said you were worried about something.”
“You wouldn’t understand,” Sabrina said, walking out of the trees and heading toward the stables.
Brock hung back and followed the boy slowly, just in case a sloppy drunk tried to molest him. But it was as if no one noticed him at all. How sad.
Brock stopped by the jail to pick up the rest of his belongings. Hopping on Troy, he headed home to unpack, rest and think; not necessarily in that order.
Time seemed to drag by for Sabrina. She moved through her routine in a daze. Her thoughts kept wandering back to Brock. He had been busy as of late: As the cattlemen moved into town, greed seemed to follow. There seemed to be more fights and general unrest as fall settled in. Sabrina marked time by watching the old oak tree turn from green to yellow and she sat for hours watching the squirrels frolic in its boughs and stuffing their cheeks with acorns.
She tried thinking of ways to drop by his office just to see him. However, she could not come up with a plausible excuse. Therefore, she saw him rarely. She did catch him staring at her a time or two. On the other hand, maybe she was just hoping he was looking at her. Fine. Forget Brock. She would go visit Troy.
Smiling for the first time in weeks she climbed to her feet, dusted off her bottom, and headed to her quarry. Seeing Brock through the window hunched over a stack of papers, she headed to the horse tied up
“It’s almost dark; you aren’t worried about him?”
“I’m sure he’s fine. He probably saw Mac at supper if you’re worried. I gotta get home before my wife skins me alive. If you wanna worry about someone, worry about me.” Mr. Swanson chuckled at his little joke as he headed down the street to his home.
Gritting his teeth, Brock rode Troy over to the saloon, tying him up outside. Taking a deep breath, he headed inside. The saloon was loud but not rowdy. He nodded to a couple of cowboys playing cards and spotted Mac headed towards him.
“Drink?” Mac asked.
“I’m looking for Will; he hasn’t come back and Jack was worried about him.” Brock was trying to act casual but Mac eyed him warily.
“Boy takes off from time to time. He’ll be back by morning.”
“Did you see him earlier? Did he say where he was going?” Brock asked, the questions pouring out faster than he wanted them to.
“He came by earlier today. I didn’t interrogate him, though. He was troubled about something, said he was gonna walk down to river. I bet ya two bits he fell asleep,” Mac said matter of factly.
Nodding his thanks, he left the saloon. A curious Mac watched him go.
He searched the boardwalk and alleyways as he rode towards the river. The fading light stretched out in long shadows making it difficult to see. He heard the water and nudged Troy toward the riverbank. Ground tying him, he eyed the earth, trampled down by dozens of feet. There were too many footprints to discern Will’s small boot print. Looking across the landscape, he saw the large oak tree and headed toward it. Spying the curled up bundle beneath the boughs, he stopped, not sure how to approach him.
He felt nervous; he took a deep breath before ducking under the branches and nudging the boy’s boot. He almost jumped as Will shot up into a sitting position, looking alarmed.
Sabrina felt a jolt of terror when she glimpsed the hulking figure towering over her. It was dark, the sun had almost completely disappeared, and she had not meant to sleep for so long. As her eyes adjusted, she recognized the tall, thin shape and frowned.
“What are you doing here?”
“Jack was worried so he sent me to find you,” Brock lied again.
Will snorted. “Well, looks like ya found me.”
“You shouldn’t be out by yourself after dark; it’s not safe.”
“Ya know, I really wish people would stop treating me like I’m a child. I’m fine.”
“Are you?” Brock asked, concerned. “Mac said you were worried about something.”
“You wouldn’t understand,” Sabrina said, walking out of the trees and heading toward the stables.
Brock hung back and followed the boy slowly, just in case a sloppy drunk tried to molest him. But it was as if no one noticed him at all. How sad.
Brock stopped by the jail to pick up the rest of his belongings. Hopping on Troy, he headed home to unpack, rest and think; not necessarily in that order.
Time seemed to drag by for Sabrina. She moved through her routine in a daze. Her thoughts kept wandering back to Brock. He had been busy as of late: As the cattlemen moved into town, greed seemed to follow. There seemed to be more fights and general unrest as fall settled in. Sabrina marked time by watching the old oak tree turn from green to yellow and she sat for hours watching the squirrels frolic in its boughs and stuffing their cheeks with acorns.
She tried thinking of ways to drop by his office just to see him. However, she could not come up with a plausible excuse. Therefore, she saw him rarely. She did catch him staring at her a time or two. On the other hand, maybe she was just hoping he was looking at her. Fine. Forget Brock. She would go visit Troy.
Smiling for the first time in weeks she climbed to her feet, dusted off her bottom, and headed to her quarry. Seeing Brock through the window hunched over a stack of papers, she headed to the horse tied up
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