The Stafford Collection, Historical Western Romances Read Online Free Page A

and fried eggs. He ate until he was full and pushed back his chair, thanking Ms. Hawkins for the wonderful breakfast.
    He stepped outside into the morning heat and made his way down the boardwalk towards the Sheriff's office. The town was alive with the usual hustle and bustle. Some of the merchants noticed him and nodded or waved.
    His office was on the same street as the livery stable and the bank.  He unlocked the door with his key and stepped inside.  A very sparse office with two cells greeted him. The cells were against the back wall and they each had a small mattress in one corner.  One of the cell doors had fallen off its hinges and was propped up against the wall.  It seemed as if the entire room was covered with a year’s worth of dust and grime, though the late Sheriff McAllister had only passed away two months earlier.  He pulled back the once beige curtains and let some of the early morning light filter in through the dirty windows. He sighed. This was going to take a lot of elbow grease.
    " Sheriff McAllister wasn't much into housekeepin',"  a soft voice said from behind.
    Brock spun around, searching out the owner of the voice and silently cursing himself for letting his guard down.  He instantly recognized the young boy from the stables leaning against the open door frame. Brock raised an eyebrow as he noticed he had a bucket and a broom in his hand.
    Sabrina said, "Mr. Swanson sent me; he thought you might need some help straightening the place up."  She stepped into the dark room avoiding Brock's gaze as she looked around, taking in the enormity of the task in front of them.
    The place had been shut up for months but that did not stop the mice and rats from moving in. There was an abundance of once important papers scattered throughout the room. The rats had shredded them for bedding. The roof apparently had several leaks; water had seeped in and molded the rest of the papers and mattresses. Sabrina scrunched her nose at the smell.
    Brock made a sweeping motion with his arm indicating the entire place.  "As you can see, I can sure use the help.  I'm not really sure where to begin."
    Sabrina sat down for a moment in a chair by the desk.  A plume of dust lifted up from the moth eaten cushion she was sitting on.  She tried to talk and ended up choking on the dust.  Brock chuckled as he slapped Sabrina on the back a little too hard almost sending her sprawling onto the floor.
    "Thanks,"  Sabrina muttered after she finally caught her breath.  "Well, to start off, we need to get some light in here.  You take down the curtains, and I'll start washing the windows." 
    Brock smirked as the little runt started ordering him about as if he owned the place.  He shook his head. Well, the kid is helping me; guess I can follow a few orders.  He walked over to take down the filthy curtains. 
    Brock reached up and unhooked the curtains , laying them in a heap by the front door. Sabrina walked outside and filled the bucket in the horse trough. Returning, she soaped up a rag and, standing on a chair, started soaping down the grimy windows one pane at a time.
    Not sure what to do next, Brock picked up the broom and started to vigorously sweep up the dirt and paper on the floor. Before long, a huge dust cloud filled the room.  The dust burned his eyes and filled his nostrils and he tried not to cough. He heard the boy coughing; then suddenly he was in Brock’s face.
    "What are you doing?" Sabrina demanded, grabbing the broom away from the shocked man.  "Don't you even know how to sweep?"
    Brock felt his face turning red with anger; first, he was ordered around; then he was yelled at for no reason.  Someone needed to teach the boy some manners.
    "Listen, I'm the Sheriff here! I’m in charge! This is my office and I say what gets done and by whom, do you hear me?"  The boy eyed him angrily for a second, then smirked.
    "Fine, ” Sabrina said, dropping her rag in the bucket and walking out the door.
    Brock's