The Stafford Collection, Historical Western Romances by Lynn Hubbard Page A

come back to the jail with me and you can change.”
    Looking down at her muddy clothes, she agreed.  Brock shut the door and locked it back after they entered. Sabrina took her package to the cell she slept in the other night. It seemed like so much had happened since then. So much bad had happened in her short life that she was weary from it. Making sure Brock was sitting at his desk with his back to her she quickly took off the dirty clothes and put on a clean shirt and the overalls. She was pleased to see that the overalls did much to hide her figure and chest. It seemed silly to dress in clean clothes when the rest of her was filthy but it felt good just the same.
    Retying her bundle of new clothes and wadding the dirty ones up on the floor for now, she went up to Brock.
    “Thank you for my clothes.”
    Brock looked up at her. “You’re welcome.”
    Her eyes widened as she glanced up and took in the new wanted poster behind Brock’s head.
    Brock turned, following her stare. “Ted Roberts. Head of the Roberts gang. Do you know him?”
    Sabrina felt faint; she did know him. He had worked on their ranch.  She had no idea he was a murderer. He was very quiet, he liked to read, and he was very smart. He was very nice to Sabrina but something about his eyes, the way they were always watching her. The way he always gazed at her was frightening; it made her feel sick inside, like she was dirty. He had started following her around, keeping track of her. When her father found out about it, he fired him.
    She flashed back to the day of the murders. She remembered a man on horseback watching the commotion. He was too far away to see his face but he was on a black horse. Ted Roberts had a pure black horse.
    Brock stood, grabbed her by the arm and set her in his chair. She shook her head in denial. Her mind and her heart were locked in combat.  She did not want to admit the possible. “No, I don’t know him,” she whispered, but they both knew she was lying.
    Sabrina felt dizzy and leaned up against a wall. Brock insisted she go back into the cell and lie down, but he could tell by Will’s breathing that he was not sleeping. He wanted to take him home but he had too many reports to write up about the fire. He liked to keep a log of the goings on in the town. He knew he would not be able to help Will unless he talked, and it seemed as if the boy was determined not to, no matter how scared he was.
    This bothered Brock. He wanted to protect him and keep him safe and happy. So far, he was not doing a very good job at either.
    Sabrina stared at the wall feeling a sense of deja’vu. She had tried so hard to forget what happened that day so long ago; to wipe it out of her memory. Now, she wanted to replay it in her mind... to see if it really was Ted Roberts there that day. If he was, her family’s deaths were all her fault; she was the one who rejected him. She was the one who snuck out to go fishing with Samuel without telling anyone.  It was her fault they were all dead…her fault…all her fault.
    She dozed and began to mumble lightly. Suddenly she was shaken awake by Brock as her screams echoed off the metal bars of the cell.
    “Sorry, ” she whispered as people off the street poked their heads in the door to make sure all was well. 
    Brock sighed, “I think we should be getting home.”
    Home.
    What a powerful word and what deep meaning it should hold. Home is where you belong, where you are safe and warm. Where your family is. Where love is. Sabrina refused to cry as she followed Brock out the door, holding her packages tightly to her chest. Yes, she was going home.
     

 
     
    Chapter 9
     
    S till sleepy, Sabrina leaned up against Brock’s back as they rode home. She closed her eyes. She knew she would get no rest tonight. There were too many demons dancing around in her head for her to sleep.
    They soon arrived and Brock lifted the sleepy boy down and made sure he was on his feet before climbing down himself.