Second Chance Cowboy (18 page)

“I thought you might enjoy seeing a face from home. I had some business to take care of, so I decided to surprise you.”

Sabrina frowned, and disappointment filled her voice, “You certainly did that”

Trey scanned the small room, his eyes coming to rest on the open door between Sabrina’s and Patrick’s rooms. He frowned, and his eyes turned a dark menacing green.

“I don’t understand why you’re here, but I could use your help.” Sabrina felt confused, disoriented by her worry.

“What can I do to help you?” Trey inquired.

“Take me to where the men are camped. Patrick has been gone since early this morning and he should have been back by now.”

“If you’ll promise to have dinner with me, I’ll take you wherever you want to go.” Trey countered.

Sabrina frowned. “As long as Patrick is invited, I’ll have dinner with you.”

“Of course, Patrick is invited.” Trey responded.

She fairly ran across the room and grabbed her shawl. “Let’s go before it gets any later.”

She hurried out of the room, shutting the door behind her.

Trey hired a buggy at the livery stable and drove them out to where the men were camped. When they drove up, Buckets came running forward. He halted when he saw Trey sitting beside Sabrina.

“Where’s Patrick?” he demanded.

Sabrina climbed down from the buggy, not waiting for Trey’s help. She felt her heart leap to her throat. “I don’t know. I was hoping he was with you.”

“We haven’t seen him since this morning when him and that cattle broker fellah came out and looked at the cattle.” Buckets ran his hand through his hair. “That feller’s men have already come and taken the cattle to their pens.”

“He sold the cattle?” Sabrina questioned.

“Yeah, and the men are just sittin’ around waitin’ on their pay,” Buckets replied.

“Oh, God! I don’t feel good about this,” Sabrina replied.

“No one’s seen him since this morning?” Buckets inquired.

“No. I kept waiting at the hotel. I was afraid to leave until Trey knocked on the door. I asked him to bring me out here, hoping Patrick would be with you.”

Sabrina watched Buckets send Trey a look that would melt frozen tundra. “When did you get into town?”

“This afternoon,” Trey replied, smiling at the old man.

“I’m goin’ to round up the men and we’ll go lookin for Patrick. This ain’t like him to be missing and no one know where he is.”

Trey took hold of Sabrina’s arm, leading her back to the carriage. “I’m taking Sabrina to supper. We’ll be at Delmonico’s when you find him.”

She jerked her arm away from Trey. “No. I don’t want to go there. We’ll be at the hotel, Buckets. Please find him. I won’t go to bed tonight until I hear from you.”

Buckets patted Sabrina’s arm. “We’ll find him, honey.”

S
abrina stared
at the death certificate. “Patrick Shand,” it read, “dead from a gunshot wound.” It couldn’t be true. She swayed and Buckets caught her, keeping her from hitting the ground.

“Get some smelling salts,” the old man cried.

“I’m okay. Just let me sit down.” Sabrina felt Buckets ease her into a chair. This was a nightmare, and she would wake up any moment and reach out and touch Patrick. He would hold her, comfort her, and reassure her of his love.

“When did they bury him?” Buckets asked the undertaker, his voice gruff with unshed tears.

“Two days ago,” the man in the dark suit replied.

Sabrina glanced up from the document. “Two days ago. That was the day he turned up missing.” Puzzled, she asked, “Why so quick?”

The undertaker cleared his throat. “We didn’t know who he was, so we buried him.”

Patrick wasn’t dead. He couldn’t be. She would know if he were dead. She would feel a part of herself missing, and right now all she felt was numb. The last few days had been a blur. She hadn’t been able to sleep. The bed seemed empty without his presence, and the door between their rooms stood open, waiting.

The men had searched the town. Buckets had talked to the sheriff, and they’d had no luck locating Patrick until today. She looked down at the piece of paper in her hand. “Show me where he’s buried. He’s not dead. I just know it”

“Are you sure you want to go out there, ma’am? We buried him on Boot Hill.”

Sabrina glared at the slimy man. He repulsed her, and she shivered at his dark suit and beady eyes. The smell of cloves failed at covering up the sickly sweet smell of death.

Her voice was cold. “I want to see where you buried him.”

Buckets asked, “Did you find any money on his body?”

The undertaker looked puzzled. “Nothing was found of any value on him. He looked like a drifter.”

Sabrina came up out of her chair. She glared at the man. “He was not a drifter, and if you’d bothered to check before you buried him, you would have known that.”

Cold, unfeeling eyes bored into her. “I was doing my job, disposing of unclaimed bodies.”

“He’s not an unclaimed body.” Sabrina turned and walked out of the funeral parlor; tears streamed down her face. Buckets stayed behind. Through the open door, she heard the undertaker say, “My assistant seems to have up and quit me in the last few days. I’ll have to take you to the grave myself.”

Buckets replied woodenly, “Let’s get this over with.” Sabrina sat in the wagon next to Buckets. The men from the Big C followed behind them on horseback. No one spoke on the short ride out to the cemetery where men who had been passing through Dodge and met an untimely death were buried. It was a lonesome spot up on a hill away from town. It was a bare, desolate place, riddled with crosses.

The man led them to a freshly dug grave where the dirt was still moist. A cross had been haphazardly stuck in the ground, already leaning drunkenly in the loose soil.

She climbed out of the wagon. Buckets was at her side as they slowly made their way to the grave. As they came upon the cross, Sabrina cried out, “No! Oh, God, no!” She stared at the name
Patrick Shand
etched into the wood.

P
atrick surveyed
the town of Fort Griffin. Riding hard for the last eight days, their horses were exhausted— and Matt and Patrick hadn’t fared much better. Both men needed a bath and a shave and looked more like outlaws than avengers.

For the first week there had been no sign of either Trey or Redd. Patrick was ready to give up and head to Sherwood when they had stopped at Doan’s Crossing and gotten a lucky break. A man who fit Redd’s description had come in the day before and bought supplies. He’d been alone.

Trey might have been waiting outside, but the man in the store was insistent that Redd had been alone. They had followed what appeared to be his tracks to Fort Griffin.

Patrick couldn’t help but remember the last time he’d been to this small town. Sabrina had been with him; and though they had been at odds, even then she’d been constantly in his thoughts. Now it was worse.

He missed her with a passion and worried insistently about her safety. In some ways, it would have been better to have had her along. At least then she would have been safe at his side.

Matt had been an amiable companion. Patrick was surprised the two men had gotten along. Though they were not great pals, they had learned at least to respect each other, and Patrick was grateful to Matt for rescuing him from that coffin.

While here, Patrick intended to see his friend the colonel. His distrust of Sheriff Sims at Sherwood had led him to conclude that an outside force was needed to clean up the town. A force that couldn’t be bought and sold.

Patrick couldn’t help but think of his friend Captain Sparks, who was head of Company C of the Texas Rangers. If Sparks were in the area, he could be the help Patrick needed in Sherwood. His biggest fear was that no one would believe him if they returned alone. He feared that once again Trey would get away with stealing.

Scanning the streets of the small cattle town, Patrick watched the townspeople hurry along the crowded boardwalks. He caught a glimpse of a tall, dark-headed man strolling down the street. The man’s walk was a slow, rolling gait; his guns were strapped low on his hips the way a professional gunslinger wore them. From the back, he looked familiar.

Patrick spurred his horse to a quick trot and hurried after the man. The closer he came, the more certain Patrick felt it was Redd. At the sound of Patrick’s horse, Redd turned his beady dark eyes upon Patrick and glared. His mouth dropped in shock.

Each man halted. Patrick leaned over his horse and asked, “How’s it going, Redd? Surprised to see me?” His voice was cold enough for a summer frost

Redd’s hand moved slowly toward the holster slung low on his hips. He shrugged his shoulders. “Some people have a knack for staying alive.”

The gunslinger glanced at Matt, who had ridden up beside Patrick. His voice became insulting. “This
is
a surprise. The two of you together.”

“Miracles do happen,” Patrick replied.

“Where’s the money, Redd?” Matt demanded.

Patrick watched Redd assess Matt with a blank look. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Swinging his leg over his horse, Patrick eased himself to the ground. His hand moved in close to his gun. “Where’s Trey?”

“I left him in Dodge City. He planned on staying to comfort Sabrina over your death.” The man smiled. “I imagine by now they’re probably having a hell of a honeymoon.”

Knowing instinctively Redd was trying to provoke him to draw his gun, Patrick just smiled. “Sabrina knows I’m not dead and should be almost home.”

Redd shrugged. “Trey is probably having his way with your woman now. She is a pretty piece.”

Patrick drew in a deep breath, steadying himself. He couldn’t lose control. If he killed Redd, it wouldn’t help clean up Sherwood. Redd would go to his grave carrying any information he might have that would convict Carson. Patrick would be damned if he’d let that happen.

Redd’s black eyes gleamed and shone with a brilliant iridescence. He spoke slowly, his words like a cutting knife. “You always have pretty women in your life, Shand. It just ain’t fair.” He paused. “Your mother, she was one of the prettiest women in town. Damn, I hated to kill that woman, but she was a fighter. I ain’t ever seen a woman fight so hard in all my life. I wanted to savor her, but she gave me no choice.”

Patrick felt as if the air were sucked out of his lungs as Redd’s words penetrated his fog-filled brain. “You killed my mother?”

Redd shrugged. “Didn’t have any choice. Carson said

they had to go. Me and the boys planned on having some fun with your mama; but after we killed your father, she went crazy. I promised her a good time, but she set fire to the house, keeping us from our fun.” Redd paused. “I would have sent her out of this world with the best time she’d ever had.”

The blood pounded in Patrick’s ears from the fury that invaded his soul. His dear mother. This creep had murdered his family. Redd’s words echoed through his brain, and Patrick heard what sounded like his voice, screaming in the afternoon air. Like spontaneous combustion, his hand exploded into action and he reached for his pistol. His mind recoiled at the firing of his Smith and Wesson even as his hand absorbed the kick of the gun.

Patrick stared at the rapidly growing blood stain on Redd’s chest. “No!” he demanded in a loud angry voice. Patrick sank to the ground beside Redd. “Get a doctor!”

Matt knelt down beside Patrick and stared at him as if he’d lost his mind. “Let the son of a bitch die.”

Patrick grabbed Matt’s shirt “No. Get a doctor. I’m not going to give the bastard the satisfaction of dying this easily. He deserves the hangman’s noose.”

Patrick shoved Matt, forcing him into action. Patrick knew people surrounded them and were staring as he held his hand over the bullet wound in Redd’s chest.

“Don’t you die, damn you,” Patrick all but screamed at Redd.

A smile fluttered at the corner of Redd’s mouth. “And stay and have to stand trial?”

“You’re going to live and testify against Carson Jarvis ... if I have to pump the breath of life back into you myself,” Patrick vowed.

“I don’t think so, ranger.” Redd coughed and a stream of red blood came from his mouth. He closed his eyes and went limp.

“No! Damn you, no!” Patrick cried.

S
abrina was almost home
. The sweltering Texas sun blazed in the August sky. She couldn’t help but think about her last trip home. Spring had been blooming, and Patrick had given her a ride from town out to the ranch. They had wasted so much time and now she felt as if that trip had happened in another lifetime.

Maria would be anxious. Now it would only be the two of them. Her father was dead, Patrick was dead, and Matt had disappeared to God knows where.

Home was the only place she wanted to go, but she feared it would be the cruelest reminder of her losses. That big house would seem empty with just the two of them rambling around inside, minus the sound of voices filtering through the rooms.

Sabrina wiped at the sweat that trickled down her face. She had been in the saddle forever. The men looked as tired and haggard as she felt. They’d each tried in some small way to comfort her, yet she felt so guilty.

She had nothing to pay them with, no hopes of obtaining the money, and each one deserved twice their pay for the hard work they had endured. There must be something she could do. Sam, the banker, sprang instantly into her mind, and she shivered with repulsion. Sam and her father had been friends for years. Many times he had helped her father with some aspect of money. Why was he so insistent the loan be paid off by September first?

Was the bank in trouble? Could that be the reason Sam was being so uncompromising? He’d mentioned a buyer for the Big C. Who? It was the nicest spread in west Texas with its abundant water supply, but there was other land in the area available.

Sabrina frowned. One side of her property was Patrick’s land; the other side was bordered by Carson Jarvis’ ranch, the Cactus Spread. But who owned the property to the east of them? No one lived there and years ago it had been for sale. Was the property still not owned, or had someone purchased it?

Why hadn’t she thought about this before she’d left town? Tomorrow would be a good time to visit Mr. Sam Bradley and ask why he was so insistent on foreclosure if this loan wasn’t paid on time. Certainly, it would be better to get paid than be left holding a ranch that wasn’t earning any money. Unless someone wanted to buy the Big C, and they knew her father wouldn’t have sold under any circumstances, except financial loss, which could explain his insistence.

Sabrina gazed at the dry countryside. The summer sun had turned most of the area brown with its scorching rays. Soon the cold north winds would touch the few trees that rose out of the plains and change the leaves to brilliant gold and brown.

The long, weathered ranch house came into view, and Sabrina almost cried with delight. Home. Nothing looked sweeter, nothing could be better
except if Patrick had been with her.
The men’s excited murmurs filled the air.

Buckets rode up beside her. “Looks mighty good right now, don’t it?”

The trip had been hard on Buckets. He looked tired, older. His jolliness had disappeared, and in its place reigned exhaustion. She’d been so wrapped up in her mourning, she’d failed to notice the changes in Buckets.

“Only one thing would make it look better.” Sabrina paused. “If Patrick were riding with us.”

Buckets bent his head. “Yeah, I know. Just don’t seem fair somehow.”

Sabrina sighed a wistful sound. “Buckets, I never told him how sorry I was. You always think you have all the time you’re ever going to need, but we ran out. We didn’t even talk about Matt that last night. All we did was. . .”

The old man frowned. “He knew how you felt. The two of you have been wide-eyed about one another, since you were both wearing short britches.”

“If only I hadn’t let Matt come between us.”

“Now ain’t the time for regrets, Miss Sabrina.” Buckets spit a stream of tobacco. “Patrick will always be in your heart”

The scenery could have been the Sahara desert and she wouldn’t have noticed. Her mind was focused on Patrick and the past.

They rode into the yard a tired and haggard-looking bunch. At the sound of horses and people, Maria came flying out the front door. Several men came running from the back of the house. God, it felt good to be home. Sabrina felt her blood slowly drain away.

Words echoed through her head. No cattle, no money, no Matt, and no Patrick. A slight humming noise seemed to fill her mind as Maria’s happy shouts greeted them. Woodenly, Sabrina climbed down off her horse and climbed the steps to greet Maria.

She hugged the older woman in a ritual of greeting without feeling. An unfeeling lump settled in over her chest. Maria glanced at her oddly and Sabrina knew she must look awful.

“Where is Senor Patrick?” Maria questioned.

A dead silence stilled the small group. She dropped her head and fought the tears that threatened to spill from her eyes and from her heart.

Buckets cleared his throat. “Somethin’ happened to him.”

Sabrina spoke up. “He didn’t make it.” Sabrina took a deep breath. “He was killed in Dodge City.”

Maria gasped and put her arm around Sabrina. “Oh, no! It cannot be true.”

Sabrina felt Maria’s arm around her like a vise, closing her lungs, forcing the air from her body. A fog seemed to cloud her vision. Maria released her, and Sabrina felt the haziness retreat.

Maria dabbed at her eyes with her apron. “What else can happen to this family?”

The words wrenched at her heart. She was right. What else could happen? Plenty. They were going to lose the ranch. “It’s going to get worse before it gets better.”

“The cattle? You did sell the cattle?” Maria questioned.

Sabrina sighed. “Patrick was murdered for the money.”

“Madre de Dios,
no!” Maria exclaimed. She wrung her hands.

Sympathy was in each man’s expression, and Sabrina couldn’t help but feel she owed them so much. Somehow she needed to tell them her feelings. “This has been the hardest trip of my life.”

Sabrina bent her head, trying to hold onto her composure. She took several deep breaths and then raised her head, looking out at the men. “Not only because I lost Patrick, but also because the money is gone and I can’t pay you. Your hard work is what made this trip possible and the reason we reached our goal. I never realized before how tough your jobs were until I became one of you.”

She paused as the fog seemed to increase. Her legs felt wobbly. “Someday I will pay you the money you earned.” Sabrina felt a tear escape from her eye. “Money is replaceable; lives are not. I don’t know if there will be a future for the Big C. Somehow, at this moment, that doesn’t seem important.”

A haze clouded her vision, and a buzzing noise filled her brain. She turned to speak with Maria, but her legs folded underneath her. With a cry, she felt herself falling. She landed on the wooden porch with a thud, and everything went black.

T
rey watched
in disbelief as Sabrina fell in a faint on the porch. He jumped off his horse and ran up the steps. Maria was rambling in Spanish and rocking Sabrina back and forth in her arms.

“Dan, get the doc,” Trey commanded.

Trey shoved Maria out of his way and carefully picked Sabrina up. Her eyes fluttered open and she questioned, “Patrick?”

Trey’s blood turned cold. Soon she would be whispering his name. He pushed his feelings aside and calmly carried her into the house, up the stairs to her room. He laid her gently down on the bed. Her eyes were closed again as if in sleep.

Maria hurried into the room, and produced a vial of smelling salts. She waved them under Sabrina’s nose. Sabrina coughed and sputtered. Her eyes opened and she gazed up at Trey and Maria.

“Get that awful stuff away from me,” she stuttered.

Trey ran his hand through his hair. His patience was at an end. This woman was going to be his wife, and it was time she started to learn her place.