Second Chance Cowboy (10 page)

Patrick swore quietly. “They’re going to think how smart I was to keep you from becoming that Indian’s squaw. Now move over; I can’t sleep outside.”

“I will not move over. The men all know we’re not married, you can’t sleep in here.”

“Shh, Woman! Do you want Sly Fox to hear you?”

Sabrina bit her lip. What was she going to do? If she let him sleep in the chuck wagon, what would their men think? But if she didn’t, Sly Fox . . . she didn’t have much of a choice.

“Oh, all right, but I get the pallet.”

“Where am I going to sleep?” Patrick asked as he looked around the small cramped quarters.

There was no place. No place to sit except the small space where Sabrina slept. It wasn’t even a bed. She moved boxes each night to clear a space to spread her blankets.

Sighing, Sabrina relented. “Okay, you may sit at the end of the pallet, but you can’t lie down.”

Patrick sank down on the other side of the pallet away from Sabrina. She watched him lean back against the canvas, squirming, trying to get comfortable. He reached down and tried to take his boots off. She watched him tug on the stiff heel.

“Do you need some help?”

In the darkness, she felt his eyes on her, staring. She felt awkward, tense.

“If you don’t mind,” Patrick replied, his voice quiet. Sabrina threw back the covers to help Patrick. The summer heat made it impossible for her to sleep with the pants and shirt she wore all day, yet her modesty kept her from sleeping in a gown. Standing up, she faced him in her pantaloons and chemise. It was dark and he had seen her in less. She reached down and tugged on the snug-fitting boot. After several tries, it finally came off in her hand. Then she began working on the second boot. When both boots were off, she lay back under the covers.

“Thanks,” replied a quiet Patrick.

Sabrina watched him as he tried to get comfortable sitting against the back of the wagon. She knew how hard he worked each day and how tired he must feel, and guilt overcame her.

“All right. You can lie down on the pallet beside me, but not under the covers.”

In the darkness, Sabrina made out a faint glimmer of a smile on Patrick’s face. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, but stay on your side and don’t get close to me.” “You know I would never get that close.”

“Somehow, I don’t believe you,” Sabrina replied.

Patrick moved down beside Sabrina on the hard pallet, stretching out. His body filled the space she had arranged inside the wagon. Sabrina inched away from him and came up against the back of the wagon. There were mere inches between them, and if she rolled over on her back, they would touch. Restless, she shifted and squirmed, trying to get comfortable.

“Go to sleep, Sabrina.” Patrick’s deep voice came through the darkness.

“I’m trying.”

“If you don’t quit bumping up against me, I’m going to think you want something else,” Patrick teased.

Sabrina’s knee came flying up instinctively and kneed him in the butt. “You arrogant—”

The wagon shifted as Patrick rolled, and Sabrina suddenly found herself lying underneath him, his hand covering her mouth. His skin smelled of leather.

“Keep your voice down. Our guests are right outside.”

Sabrina’s heart was pounding and a delicious warmth spread across her body. Her breasts were flattened against Patrick’s chest and she could feel his manhood nestled in the vortex of her thighs. As he lay against her, she felt it swell and harden.

Removing his hand from her mouth, he reached up and stroked the hair away from her face. Her breathing came in quick shallow breaths. Her eyes traveled involuntarily to Patrick’s face and she stared into the dark depths, wishing she could see his eyes. Oh God! What had she done? She watched in fascination as his mouth descended downward toward hers.

His lips touched hers softy. His tongue traced the outline of her mouth before he entered into her suddenly willing mouth. Tingles spread throughout her body as her arms wrapped around him, pulling him, wanting him closer.

A groan escaped from her throat, and she gingerly touched her tongue to his. She felt his hand on her breast and marveled from the sensation his palm evoked. Raising up, he kissed her again, sealing their mouths, pressing his loins into her. With trailing kisses, he moved down her neck, pushing down her camisole until he bared her breast. Kissing it gently at first, he licked the outer areola and then suckled her breast.

Sabrina moaned with pleasure and arched her back, wanting, needing more. She stifled the small voice that kept insisting she stop him. She craved him. She wanted him.

His teeth nipped at the bud of her breast as his hand worked its way down her thigh. She reached down to stop him, until his hand caressed her womanly place and she gasped from the unexpected pleasure. His hand gently kneaded her until she was almost drowning in the sheer bliss of his touch.

Totally absorbed with the pleasure Patrick was bringing her, Sabrina failed to hear the sounds of the men changing shifts. Suddenly, Patrick stopped.

Cursing, he withdrew and rolled away from her. His breathing came in short raspy breaths. “We can’t. Not like this.”

Hot tears stung her eyes. Why hadn’t she stopped him? How could she have let him do this to her? Her pride smarted and tears flowed from her eyes. In a tightly controlled voice, she whispered, “Go to sleep, Patrick.”

She turned her back to him, her heart still pounding, a roaring in her ears from the pleasure and the pain of his kisses. Tears scalded their way down her cheeks. She mustn’t let him see her cry, let him know how badly she hurt. Biting her lip, she cried herself to sleep.

O
h God
, how he wished the morning would come. She had cried herself to sleep. Not loud wrenching sobs, but quiet little sniffles. Then she had gotten her revenge. Asleep, she had rolled over and conformed her body to his. And damn if she didn’t fit all the right places.

It was the night of a thousand hours, a million minutes. He should have stopped before he’d touched her. Before he’d felt her sweet passion on his hand. How much more could he stand?

Only the sound of the men changing guard had stopped him. In a matter of minutes he would have been inside her. It wouldn’t have mattered who was outside the wagon. He wanted her more than his next breath. He wanted to feel her soft breasts, her long legs, and be inside her.

Sabrina murmured something in her sleep and snuggled closer. His arm automatically slid around her, holding her. She felt so good, so right in his arms.

Patrick looked down and watched a moonbeam dance across her sleeping face, so peaceful with slumber. Long lashes lay on her cheekbones. Her skin was brown from the sun and tiny freckles splashed across her nose. How could such an angelic face create such a tangle of emotions within him?

He wanted to kiss her senseless and strangle her all at the same time. Warring emotions filled his soul, none of which he could deal with. Not now. But soon he would have to face what was between him and Sabrina. It was only a matter of time.

T
he eastern sky
was beginning to lighten, promising another day. Patrick eased Sabrina’s sleeping form away from him and slipped out the wagon. Outside, Buckets stirred the fire, bringing the coals to flame.

Walking to the fire, Patrick watched as Black Bear and his braves prepared to leave. Dan was the only other man who had roused beside Buckets.

Patrick motioned for Dan. “Pick out five good cows and give them to Black Bear.”

“Yes, sir.” Dan left to saddle a horse from the remuda.

Black Boar overheard Patrick and nodded in understanding. He strolled over to where Patrick stood around the campfire. “You are as generous to my people as your father.”

“My father is dead.”

Black Bear’s face showed surprise, his voice regret. “I had not heard. I’m sorry. How did it happen?”

The words slammed into Patrick like a charging bull. Black Bear hadn’t known of his family’s murder. When he had recovered from his shock, Patrick said, “They were murdered. The sheriff thinks Indians killed them. He even mentioned your tribe.”

“What do you believe?”

Patrick stared at his friend intently. Their childhood had been spent together. They had pricked their fingers, mixed their blood, making them brothers. “I think white men are trying to frame your tribe.”

Black Bear smiled. “My tribe knows your family and their generosity. My warriors would not harm them.” Black Bear frowned at Patrick, his brow creasing. “I’m curious why did you not mention your family’s deaths last night?”

“It was hard not to, but I wanted last night to be a celebration.” How could he tell his friend, he had wanted to make sure that Black Bear was still the same man he had grown up with?

Patrick ran his hand through his hair. “I also wanted to find out how much you knew. Now I’m certain more than ever that it wasn’t Indians who killed my family.”

“Look at the people around you. Even now, you are being followed by a group of men.”

Patrick’s eyebrows drew together. Black Bear was only confirming his suspicions. “Who?”

“I don’t know, my friend. Six men ride behind you, following you, and one trails them.”

Patrick’s brow wrinkled in thought. “It must be the same ones who attacked us crossing the river.” A sigh escaped his lips. Who could be the lone rider, Trey?

“I worry about the safety of my men and my . . . wife.” Patrick reluctantly admitted.

Black Bear smiled. “She is a strong woman.”

Patrick frowned. “Yeah, you could say that.”

“If she were weak, she wouldn’t be your woman.”

“Yes, but it would be easier. She can sure make my life difficult if she wants to.”

Black Bear laughed and motioned to his braves. “I must go so that I will reach my village by nightfall. My tribe thanks you for the cattle. We will eat well this winter.”

“Take care of yourself, Black Bear.”

“You, too, my brother. Watch your back.”

“I will.”

Black Bear reached out and clasped Patrick in a hug. “Good-bye, friend.”

Patrick watched the braves ride off, a troubled frown upon his face. So, they were being followed.

T
he early light
of dawn crept into the wagon, chasing sleep from Sabrina. Slowly, she opened her swollen eyelids, noting the predawn light. Memories of the night before assailed her, and she rolled over, looking for the man who had caused her wanton behavior. The place beside her was empty, the blankets indented from the weight of his body. She was alone.

Relief flooded her, yet left her oddly disappointed. What would it be like to open her eyes and find Patrick by her side?

Once they had been engaged, but this was different, they were different. They were older, and the youthful stars of hopes and dreams no longer blinded their vision. The stars had changed to sparks of passion, and Sabrina was totally unprepared for the combustion they generated whenever she and Patrick were alone.

She needed time to pull herself together before she encountered Patrick again. Time to sort out the feelings of disappointment and fear—disappointment when Patrick ceased last night and the fear of her desire for a man who had caused so much pain to her family, her life
.

Was this what it was like to be a woman? No one had told her about the passion between a man and a woman. No one had told her about the fire that coursed through your veins. No one had told her of the pleasure. If a kiss evoked this kind of response, what would making love be like?

Wouldn’t a virtuous woman have interrupted Patrick long before he brought their touching to a halt? Yet she had wanted him, wanted what she didn’t know wanted, answers to the yearning she felt whenever he was near.

Did she love him? Fear trickled down her spine like cold water on a winter morning. Their broken engagement had left her bereft. If the same thing happened again, she had no family, no one she could count on no one she could turn to. For the first time in her life she felt totally alone.

She felt betrayed. She had stood by Matt, gone through the trial with him, even given up her engagement because she believed in him. Yet now, when she needed him, he was gone. Even at the time of the trial that inner voice had whispered warnings of betrayal. But she had chosen Matt over Patrick. Why?

There had been a deeper reason for breaking off the engagement, a reason she had been unable to face until this moment. She’d been afraid. Afraid to leave the family behind, to become a wife, possibly a mother. Marriage was a big step. Taking care of her family was safe and secure. The last two years away from Sherwood and her family had given her a new perspective on herself and the world.

They were still miles from Dodge City, and God her, she was falling in love with Patrick all over again.

S
abrina hummed
as she washed soap from her hair. When they had stopped to camp beside the river this evening, she had gathered her things and headed for the water. The sparkling clear water had tempted her with its cool invitation promising cleanliness. The last real bath had been at the Red River almost two weeks ago. Patrick had not ended her nightly basin baths, but it was difficult to get the dust off without a lantern.

Patrick. Where was he? All day, thoughts of his disappearance had gnawed the edge of her mind. The morning sun was over the horizon and climbing in the sky when Sabrina had emerged from the wagon, inquiring about Patrick’s whereabouts. Buckets’ reply had been vague and short “He’s off chasing ghosts.”

Until today she hadn’t realized how comforting she found seeing his faded brown Stetson bobbing amongst the cattle. His presence had been a comfort and she missed his shouted orders, his casual glances, and his raucous laughter. She missed him.

When they reached Dodge City and the cattle were sold, then they would talk, clear up the past and consider the future. Right now, she wanted to look her best at least as well as she could in the middle of the Oklahoma territory.

Humming a happy song, she rinsed her hair until it squeaked with cleanliness, then pulled her wet tresses away from her face. Continuing her bath, she rubbed the bar of soap between her hands, working up the lather, she ran the suds down her arms.

The sound of water splashing behind her sent a sudden trickle of fear sparking down her spine. With the bar of soap suspended in her hand, she glanced around, the late afternoon sun danced on the water, but the river flowed gently onward, undisturbed.

Concluding a fish had jumped upriver, Sabrina proceeded with her bath. She cupped her hands, slowly trickling the water over her body, rinsing the soap off. The water around her suddenly erupted as a body lunged from the river directly behind her. A hand went across her mouth, stifling the scream in her throat. An arm went around her middle, pinning her arms to her sides, pulling her against a hard male body. She couldn’t see him. She couldn’t scream. She could barely breathe.

Her heart pounded in her chest No one knew where she was. No one would miss her until it was too late.

She squirmed, trying to get away from her would-be abductor. He tightened his hold on her until she thought her lungs would explode from the pressure. She breathed in through her nose. The man’s finger grazed her nostril. The smell of leather, salt, and a familiar manly smell tantalized her.

Something about that smell teased her memory. Curses begged to be shrieked from her lips. That smell belonged to one man.

Sabrina twisted and turned, fighting the hold he had on her, using all her strength. She was madder than a wet hen in the month of July.

Patrick put one hand in her wet hair and dunked her underwater. When he brought her up, he whispered angrily, “You little idiot, quit fighting me. I’m ready to haul you out of here and turn you over my knee.”

Patrick turned Sabrina in his arms, his hand still over her mouth. His golden eyes narrowed to glittering slits. His mouth turned down in a tight grimace.

“Lady, you chose a hell of time to take a bath” he whispered in a scorching hiss. “I’m on top of the men I’ve been following all day, and I come across you bathing.”

Sabrina wanted to bite his hand, and probably would have if his words hadn’t frightened her. Their eyes clashed and he turned his golden eyes downward. She watched his gaze slowly appraise her state of undress and felt an unexpected shiver of pleasure. His hold on her tightened as she watched the fury gather in his eyes.

He swore in a short, quick hiss. “You’re only half dressed, and they’re probably watching us right now.” Roughly, he pulled her tight against him. Their wet bodies fit together, kindling a flame in Sabrina. Slowly, he removed his hand from her mouth, motioning with his finger to his lips to keep quiet. Danger compelled her to still her tongue, but she wanted to cry her outrage at him for scaring her. As if he could read her thoughts, a small hint of a mischievous smile touched his face, tantalizing her.

He reached out his hand and gathered her wet hair through his fingers. Abruptly his fist closed around her hair, pulling her head angrily toward his until their lips brushed against each other. Golden brown eyes locked on hers and hypnotized her with their fire.

When she thought she would melt under their heat, he moaned her name and crushed his lips to hers. The anger that had made Sabrina want to retaliate only moments before flamed with passion, like a fire out of control. The danger of the moment added to the intensity. Her hands reached up and pulled him hard against her body. A groan escaped her as his tongue traced her lips, then plunged into her mouth.

Gunshots exploded in the evening air, splashing the water around them. Sabrina felt herself falling. The water closed over her head. She tried to stand up, but something pressed on her, keeping her from rising. Panic filled her, and she flailed her arms, fighting for her life. Her lungs burned from lack of oxygen. The muffled sound of shouts and gunshots carried under the water. When she opened her eyes, the water was lark and murky from the gunshots and Sabrina’s exertions. Her body began to tire and she knew she was running out of strength and air.

As the world was beginning to turn gray, the sound of a gunshot and a dull thud reached Sabrina. The hand that had been holding her down went limp. Sabrina shot up out of the water like a cannon and gasped great gulps of air into her lungs.

Sabrina was dimly aware of the sound of horses riding away. Where was Patrick? Had he held her down in the river? She looked around and saw his half-floating body lying face down in the water.

“Patrick?” she questioned, her nerve endings prickling with fear. In a split second, she realized he wasn’t moving, and her heart skipped a beat.

“Patrick!” she screamed. One long stride took her to him. Lifting his face out of the water, she gasped at the blood gushing from a wound on his forehead.

Pulling him to her breast, she saw his chest rising and falling. Relief flooded her. He was hurt, but he was alive. Quickly she searched for other wounds Sabrina screamed, “Buckets!”

Buckets and the men were already there. Reaching the river’s edge, Buckets plunged in to help Sabrina hold Patrick.

“Damn! Is he alive?” Buckets asked.

“Yes, but he’s hurt” Tears clogged Sabrina’s voice.

“What happened?”

“He followed some men here, and then when he found me in the river, they started shooting at us. He pushed me under the water and held me there.”

“We saw two horsemen riding away.”

“Oh, Buckets. Please don’t let him die,” anguish filled Sabrina’s voice.

Buckets’ eyes shone brightly, swimming with unshed tears. “I’ll do my best, darlin’.” He dispensed men to search the area. The men left behind helped him lift Patrick out of the water and carry him to the campsite. No one spoke of the danger.

Regardless of her state of undress, Sabrina hurried out of the water and followed the men carrying Patrick. One of the men threw her a blanket when they arrived in camp and she hurriedly wrapped it around her. Patrick remained unconscious.

Sabrina watched Buckets carefully clean the flesh wound on Patrick’s left temple. Lady Luck had protected Patrick once more. Half an inch to the left and Patrick would have been singing with the angels. Buckets poured whiskey over the wound. Patrick’s body jumped, but still he remained unconscious.

“Why doesn’t he wake up?”

“I don’t know. I ain’t a doctor.” Buckets’ worried frown creased his face as he wrapped a bandage around the long gash. The bleeding had stopped. He had cleaned the wound, but his patient had not awakened. “That’s all I can do for him. The rest is up to the good Lord.”

Sabrina brushed Patrick’s sandy locks back from his face. She’d lost her father, and she’d lost Matt. She couldn’t lose Patrick, too. “I want him moved inside the chuck wagon.”

Buckets looked at Sabrina as if she’d lost her mind. ‘Miss Sabrina, that ain’t gonna look good.”

“I don’t care. I’m staying with him until he regains consciousness. He will stay in the chuck wagon until he’s well.” Her determined voice stopped everyone in camp.

Buckets shook his head at her. “Okay, I’ll have him moved, but not until you get dressed.”

Sabrina glanced down at herself. She’d forgotten all about the blanket that covered her wet chemise. Blood rushed to her face as she realized her state of undress. “Sorry, I guess I’d forgotten. I’ll go change.”

Sabrina hurried to the chuck wagon and quickly changed into a clean pair of pants, a shirt, and a dry chemise. After running a comb through her wet hair, she tied it back with a string of ribbon, leaving it flowing down her back. Then she laid out her pallet for Patrick. When Patrick was settled in the chuck wagon, Sabrina made everyone leave but Buckets. She and Buckets quietly took up positions to watch over Patrick. His ashen face looked even paler with the white strip of cloth binding his forehead. Blood had seeped through the bandage, leaving its mark on the cloth. The steady rise and fall of his chest gave Sabrina comfort, yet she waited impatiently for him to open his eyes.

“You falling in love with him again?” Buckets asked quietly.

His question shocked Sabrina. Was it that obvious? She had only realized her feelings this morning. How could anyone else know? She wasn’t ready to expose them to anyone just yet.

“I don’t know. I’m afraid.” Sabrina touched her hand to Patrick’s cheek. No fever. Why didn’t he wake up?

“Your father always hoped you two would get back together.”

Sabrina’s head jerked up from her close watch on Patrick, and she turned her startled gaze to scrutinize Buckets. “Why?”

“We talked about it” Buckets pulled out his tobacco pouch and papers to roll himself a smoke. “Your Pa thought Patrick was a fine man, and that the two of you belonged together.”

She gazed at the man lying before her. She brushed a lock of hair away from his face. The feel of his skin was warm to the touch. “We were so young when we were engaged.”

“Yeah, and Matt and Trey’s trial didn’t help none.” Sabrina’s head drooped in remembered shame. “I should have believed Patrick.”

Buckets finished rolling his cigarette. “Should haves can’t be changed. So, what’re you going to do now?”

Puzzled, Sabrina looked at the gray-haired man who had been her friend for many years. “What do you mean?”

“I’m thinking you’re still in love with him, and you know what happened last time. Things have to be different this time.”

“I know. I’ve thought long and hard about what went wrong and why. Was the trial the real reason, or was there more?”

Buckets stopped fiddling with the homemade cigarette, his full attention focused on Sabrina. “And . . .”

Sabrina sighed. “The trial was bad, and the situation with Matt terrible, but most of all, I was afraid. I wasn’t ready.”

“Ready for what?”

“To become a wife. All I’d ever known in this life was my family. I was frightened.”

Buckets pulled his hat off and ran his hand through is hair. The homemade cigarette dangled from his fingers. “You two are the damnedest pair I’ve ever run across. When you love someone, your life changes.”

“I know. I wasn’t ready then. I didn’t know what I wanted in my life.”

“Do you now?”

She paused, a puzzled look on her face. “I want a home, a family, and a good man who’ll love me. A man like Patrick.”