The Stafford Collection, Historical Western Romances Read Online Free PDF

more water.
    Brock decided it was safest to start on the outside.  It was a bit humiliating to be seen washing windows as the townsfolk walked by with whispers and grins, but he refused to back down from his promise.  At least he didn’t need a chair, he was tall enough to reach all of the windows without one. He thoroughly soaped and rinsed them twice for good measure. 
    “So you’re the new Sheriff,” a feminine voice stated from behind him.  He turned, noticing the lady who had rented the carriage previously. She was with the same man.
    “Yes, ma’am,” Brock said tilting his hat to her. 
    “I didn’t realize who you were yesterday.  I’m Sally Reynolds and this is my brother, Thomas. Our father is the doctor,” she said with a haughty tone. 
    Brock forced a smile as he sighed inwardly.  Women like her just screamed trouble.  Suddenly a large wet mass flew out of the open doorway and splattered close to the lady’s feet.  Speckles of must splattered her dress. 
    Sabrina grinned as she heard the squeal from Sally.  She really had no idea what had come over her.  She’d dealt with her many times in the past and had never gotten upset with her better than thou attitude, but when she heard her talking to Brock a strange feeling crept over her.  Without thinking, she’d grabbed the sodden curtains and tossed them outside. 
    She heard Brock apologizing profusely, explaining that Will had not seen her standing there. Then Sabrina heard her walking off in a huff, with her underling of a brother following after her, muttering apologies to Brock for her behavior. 
    Sabrina expected another confrontation with Brock when he stepped inside the office and was surprised and disappointed when he came in chuckling.
    “I take it that you don’t like the Reynolds.”
    Sabrina forced a look of surprise on her face.  “The Reynolds stopped by?  I hadn’t realized.”
    She had scraped off the first layer of sodden debris and shoveled it into the door-less cell to be removed later. It would be easier to move when it was dry.  She had then tried to soak up the remaining mud, working backwards from the corner so that it would be not be full of muddy footprints when it dried.
    She stretched out her aching back like a cat and looked over her handiwork. “Well, I guess that’s all we can do until the floor dries.  I’ll take the drapes down to the creek later and see if I can salvage them.” She paused.  “I guess you don’t need pretty curtains for a jail,” Sabrina said sarcastically.
    Brock shook his head “Well, let’s go get some food and then you can show me where the creek is and I’ll lend you a hand since it’s my mess.”
    Sabrina nodded and headed toward the saloon. Brock stopped her.  “We’ll eat at the boarding house.  The last steak I had at the saloon tasted like shoe leather.”
    Sabrina laughed.  “Mac must not like you very much; he’s a great cook. He used to run the chuck wagon back when Mr. Swanson had his ranch.”
    Brock huffed and headed up the steps to his temporary home. Mrs. Hawkins was in the kitchen fixing lunch for herself. Seeing him enter with his guest, she smiled and added two more plates. 
    Sabrina hungrily wolfed down the chicken and dumplings.  They were made the same way Alma made them: rolled out and cut.  They somehow tasted better than the dropped dumplings Mac made, less doughy.  She dipped the still warm hoe cakes in the broth and took a huge bite.  She looked up and found Brock watching her amused.  She glared at him and wiped the crumbs off her face. 
    “What?” she muttered as a spray of dry bread crumbs fell from her mouth. Her mother would have been appalled if she’d seen her eating like that but Sabrina had to keep up appearances. 
    “And to think I imagined you wouldn’t eat that much,” Brock said, as he wiped his mouth with a cloth napkin.
    “Leave him be; he’s a growing boy,” Mrs. Hawkins said, patting Sabrina on her