Second Chance Cowboy (11 page)

The old man put the tobacco pouch back in his pocket. “Seems to me you two should sit down and talk. You might find out you want the same things in life.”

Sabrina bowed her head. “I know. But now there’s this situation with Matt”

“To hell with Matt,” Buckets growled. “Did your father ever mention Matt’s—?”

“Buckets! Tom’s killed a rabbit for you.”

The old man looked up at the top of the chuck wagon; and swore. “James, there’s a sick man in here.”

James’s excited face fell. “I’m sorry, but I know you’ve been wanting rabbit stew.”

Buckets stood up as much as he could in the cramped quarters of the wagon and walked to the end. Looking back at Sabrina, he admonished, “One of these days we’re gonna have us a sit-down about Matt, but for now let me know if there’s any change. I’ll be outside cooking rabbit.”

Sabrina smiled and waved at the older man. When she returned her attention to the night sky, she missed seeing Patrick’s arm move.

T
he side
of his head pulsated in time with his heart, and it hurt like hell. Voices drifted in and out. Their sounds ricocheting inside his head like a bull against the walls of a canyon. Snatches of conversation made him want to speak up and answer, but his lips wouldn’t move, and his eyelids felt sewn shut. He tried moving his head, and the throbbing increased, sending sickly sweet nausea into his throat.

Quietly he lay there, not moving, but listening. He eavesdropped on Sabrina and Buckets until James called to Buckets. Then, his weak body betrayed him, sending him into the blissful oblivion of sleep.

The next time he woke, his head ached. The pounding had eased to the feel of a soft thud, instead of the sledge hammer he’d felt earlier. His mouth was dry, his body sore, and he needed to relieve himself badly.

The pink streaks of dawn illuminated the inside of the chuck wagon with the soft blush of morning. He moved his head slightly and saw Sabrina’s sleeping form. She sat beside him, her neck tilted forward, her chin resting on her chest. Her arms hugged her knees, bracing her.

Slowly, the brief snatches of conversation he’d overheard the night before flowed back into his consciousness. He’d heard it all. The part about her fear of marrying him, her guilt regarding Matt, her confusion about loving him. Did she really love him or had he misunderstood their conversation? Had the blow to his head caused him to dream the whole discussion?

The question that remained was what was he going to do about it? Did he love Sabrina? A better question would be, had he ever quit loving her?

Why did he always come back to this woman? What was so special about her? She wasn’t a classical beauty, but an earthly one. She was a beauty that was part of the land, gold and sultry on the outside, hot and stormy on the inside.

She was stubborn, willful, irritating, and sometimes selfish. She was also strong, dependable, loving, and passionate. Clearly Sabrina wasn’t the same girl he’d been engaged to years ago. She had changed, matured.

And her maturity had made her stronger. It hadn’t been apparent when she’d first come home, but the younger Sabrina couldn’t have handled her father dying, her brother leaving, and the financial condition of the ranch. The younger Sabrina would have folded under the strain, but not today’s Sabrina. He liked this Sabrina, more than he ever liked the young girl from yesterday. He’d tried not to forgive her for the past. He’d tried to hate her, to avoid her, but she wouldn’t let him. Now it seemed they had come full circle. Again Patrick had feelings for this woman that wouldn’t be denied.

Just looking at her as she slept close by made him want to reach out and kiss the sleep from her eyes. He wanted to kiss her until he had her soft and willing in his arms. He wanted to kiss her until the passion they felt carried them away. Blonde wisps of curls around her ears teased him with their softness. The urge to reach out and brush them back with his fingers was strong.

Pale thick eyelashes lay on her face, hiding eyes bluer than the clearest Texas sky. Eyes were the direct road to the soul, and seldom lied. Patrick needed to look into her soul to see if her words were genuine, to see that she truly cared.

If she were sincere, and he wanted to believe her, he knew it would be impossible to keep his hands off her. Someday soon, he would make love to her. For both their sakes, he hoped it was after the drive was completed, but right now he couldn’t take much more. He couldn’t take much more of seeing her half-dressed, of kissing her, of smelling her, of watching her quietly during the day.

Desire coiled tightly in his loins like a storm before the rain. Was he ready to take that giant leap forward? Making love to Sabrina would mean marriage. Was he ready for that kind of commitment? Once before he’d thought he was ready, and then Matt had interfered, breaking them apart.

The thought made his head ache. Curiously, he reached up and touched the bandage on his head. Before he made any commitment to anyone, he had to get well. Gingerly, his hand ran across his forehead, bringing back the memory of the shooting. He’d been lucky. Damn lucky, considering Sabrina could have been hurt.

He shifted on the soft pallet, trying to get comfortable. The small sound of cloth rustling was enough to make Sabrina jerk upright. Eyes the color of distant mountains opened wide as they met and held his. “You’re awake!”

“Only for you, Sleeping Beauty.” God, she was beautiful in the morning. The last time he’d waked beside her, he’d left so he wouldn’t have the memories to taunt him. Now he had no choice.

“Damn you, Patrick. You had me so worried.” She sighed. “How do you feel?” Her voice was full of anger one moment, and concern the next.

“Like someone took a hammer to my head.”

Sabrina bent over to check the bandage on his head. As she moved the bandage, her breasts rubbed against him in a gentle caress.

Patrick took a deep breath to calm his suddenly thudding pulse. The sweet smell of lavender and woman filled is senses. Like a cloudburst, desire flooded his body.

“The bleeding has stopped and there’s only minor swelling.” Sabrina straightened up, scowling. “God, you scared me.”

Patrick reached up and pulled her down onto the pallet beside him and whispered huskily, “And you, lady, scared the hell out of me.”

Sabrina lay almost on top of him. Her arms were around him; her chest lay on top of his chest. Their eyes were inches apart, their lips even closer. Patrick watched her tongue flick nervously across her bottom lip.

“How did I scare you?” Sabrina inquired innocently.

“You know damn well how you scared me. I was going paddle your bottom before the shooting started.” Unable to resist his hand reached for the soft curls around her ear. He brushed them back and planted his tongue where they had lain. He felt her quiver and ran his tongue along her ear.

“I only wanted to take a bath.” Her voice was a husky whisper.

“Did you tell anyone where you were going before you left?” he asked, continuing his assault on her ear. His tongue raked the inside and he felt her shiver with pleasure, he hoped.

“No. Stop—Patrick. You’re not well.” Her hands were clutching his shirt, holding onto him.

Ignoring the comment on the state of his health, he kissed the spot below her ear and trailed tiny kisses down her neck pushing her shirt aside until he reached her collarbone.

Gently, he turned her face toward him. Passion flowed from her eyes, reaching out, touching him at the very center of his soul. “From now on, you are not going anywhere alone. Do you understand me?” His voice was
serious, all teasing gone, as he stared at the woman he suspected had stolen his heart. Hopefully this time for good.

“Yes.”

“You’re a mean woman, Sabrina.” And with that his mouth covered hers in a demanding kiss that evoked moan deep within her throat. He wanted her, needed her, and was uncertain he wanted these feelings. She had hurt him before; would she do so again?

His tongue searched her mouth, tasting her sweetness, running along the inside of her lips. Desire began to build inside his body, making him crave the feel her naked skin. He gently eased her back onto the pallet. Raising up, he meant to follow her, but dizziness overcame him. He moaned in pain as his head became higher than the rest of his body.

Sabrina quickly pushed him back on the pallet. “Are you crazy? You’ve just been shot in the head and you’re trying to seduce me?”

A smile creased Patrick’s lips, though his face had turned ashen. “A good man is never down for long, honey.”

D
ew glistened
on the morning grass like a shimmering mirror. Sabrina crawled out of her sleeping roll and stretched, easing her aching muscles. The hard ground had been her bedmate for the last three nights, while Patrick slept in the chuck wagon.

He’d been a terrible patient—fussy, irritable. Confined to the chuck wagon, he’d grown more and more difficult, growling like a grizzly bear at everyone, most of all her.

The second day he’d wanted to end his convalescence and go back to leading the drive. Buckets had told Patrick he’d hog-tie him before he let him ride a horse. Then yesterday, she’d ridden up and seen him sitting beside Buckets on the bench seat of the chuck wagon. His warning frown had alerted her to keep her mouth shut For the sake of peace, she had. Lord knows what he would want to do today.

From inside the wagon, the jingle of spurs reached her ears. Sabrina stepped to the front and peered inside. Patrick was dressed, hooking his spurs on the back of his boots.

“What are you doing?” Sabrina asked anxiously, leaning on the wagon.

Patrick attached the spur, refusing to look at Sabrina. “I’m putting my spurs on.”

Exasperated, Sabrina replied, “I can see that. What are you planning to do with them?”

“Well, usually a man wears them when he’s going to be riding a horse, working cattle,” Patrick replied in a sarcastic tone.

“You’re not well enough to be riding.”

Eyes hard as stone in a pale face met and held hers. “I feel fine.” His voice was annoyed. “If you want your cattle to reach Dodge City, then I have a cattle drive to lead.”

“Dan has been leading the drive just fine,” Sabrina reprimanded.

“Then why did we only make ten miles yesterday, and why did several men have to go looking for strays?”

“Who told you?” Sabrina asked hotly. “No one was supposed to have bothered you with that information. I took care of it.”

A sarcastic smile touched his lips. “Lord help us, just what we need, a woman leading a cattle drive. It’s bad enough you had to come along, but I’ll be damned if you’re leading this drive.”

Sabrina’s sharp intake of breath sounded loud in her ears. He was baiting her, and she knew it, but couldn’t help but respond to it. “I don’t know what burr has gotten under your saddle, but the men have picked up any slack left by your illness. Give them credit.”

“Hell, they’ve probably grown soft if you and Dan were leading the drive,” Patrick hissed.

He was deliberately being nasty. Why? Had the blow to his head affected him in some unseen way?

“You’re pushing yourself, Patrick. You’re not ready to be up and riding.”

Patrick looked up from buckling his gun belt. His face was drawn tight, his eyebrows slanted in a frown. “Who made you my keeper? If I want to ride into the next county, that’s my privilege, lady.”

He said lady as if it were an expletive. Hostility emanated from him in brutal waves, and his anger was a sharp sword lancing her soul. Why? She had nursed him these last few days. The first day she’d fed him, shaved him, and tried to keep him company. To speed his recovery, she’d slowed the drive down. In six weeks the loan was due on her property, yet for her, that had come second to Patrick. Everything had come second to Patrick. Why was he acting this way now?

They were at a standoff. Golden brown eyes dared her to make the first move. Her understanding had reached its limit. If he were well enough to ride, then he was well enough to take her wrath.

Choosing her words carefully and deliberately, she met his flashing gold eyes. “You can ride to hell for all I care.”

She turned and marched off, leaving unseen pieces of her heart behind.

Patrick watched her stalk away, her hips swinging in the tight pants that clung to her curves. He swore. The last three days had been nothing but torment. Everywhere he turned, the scent of Sabrina touched him. The inside of the chuck wagon no longer smelled of leather and supplies. Lavender floated in the air like a cool spring breeze. Even the pallet where he slept smelled of lavender and Sabrina.

The first night he’d been too hurt to notice the teasing aroma, but since then, between the presence of Sabrina hovering over him, and the scent she left behind. He’d been in agony.

Torn between his desire for her and the conversation he’d overheard between Sabrina and Buckets, he was in misery. Oh, he was sure he loved her, but she’d hurt him badly before. Should he trust her, believe in the things she’d said to Buckets, or would that only give her the chance to hurt him again?

He would never forget catching Matt and Trey stealing cattle, and the horribly public trial. He’d fought Matt with the town watching; and then, at one of the lowest moments of his life, Sabrina had broken off their engagement.

His life had changed completely that summer. He’d entered the darkest period of his life, leaving Sherwood, quitting his post as a ranger. At first, he had rambled from town to town, looking for a place to settle, but in each town he had found something that reminded him of Sherwood—and Sabrina.

Finally, low on money, he’d become a bounty hunter. He’d made a small fortune catching wanted criminals. Bounty hunters had a bad reputation, a well-deserved reputation for most of them. Yet he’d only brought in one man dead. The others had been persuaded, none too gently with the accurate use of his six-shooter.

The news of his parents’ murder had brought him back home to Sherwood. Back to the town that had wrongfully acquitted two men of stealing and branded him a fool. Then Sabrina had reappeared and turned his world upside down. Was he willing to go through that kind of pain again?