Seduced by an Angel (Velvet Lies, Book 3)

by Adrienne deWolfe

  For nearly four months, Cass continued to suffer from intermittent headaches and blurry eyesight. That period was especially harrowing for him, not because he ever lost faith in his ability to draw a straight bead, but because he was easily bored. To entertain him, Collie invented spontaneous contests; Becky showered him with cookies and pies; Sera read to him from Eight Hundred Leagues on the Amazon by Jules Verne; Claudia challenged him to Coon Can; and Jesse rolled him smokes.

  As for Jesse's injuries, he knew he'd been lucky that his neck had suffered little more than a rope burn. Between Doc Jones's medicines and Eden's herbs, the bullet wound in his thigh healed faster than he'd ever thought possible. In fact, he was as good as new before the end of July.

  As the days grew shorter, and the canopy of the maple tree outside Sera's window began to turn yellow, Jesse spent more time on Doc Jones's porch with Cass. The symptoms of Cass's concussion had finally faded away, and Jesse could sense the younger man's restlessness. He feared that Cass would soon lose all patience with small town life. Secretly, Jesse hoped that Cass would become as charmed by Blue Thunder as he was. To sweeten the pot, he determined to ask Ben if the sheriff would consider hiring Cass as his deputy.

  Unfortunately, no secret could be kept in Blue Thunder for long—just as Sera had once predicted. Jesse no sooner made plans to rendezvous with Ben, than Cass was cornering him inside Kavi's stall.

  "What are you doing out of your rocking chair, Fuss Budget?"

  "Coming with you," Cass retorted.

  "I'm not going anywhere interesting. Just to town."

  "Bull crap. You've got plans to turn yourself in."

  "Huh?"

  "Don't think I don't have ears."

  Jesse chuckled, shaking his head. "If you're planning to listen at keyholes, then you should lurk long enough to get your story straight."

  Cass cast him a blistering glare and dug his fists into his hips. "See here, Bleeding Heart. No Kentucky lawman needs to know anything you did in Texas. Or New Mexico. Or Arizona. Or even California! I didn't save your scrawny neck from a noose so you could catch wasting sickness in a penitentiary. If you're so eager to confess your crimes, go tell them to a preacher!"

  Jesse sighed. He knew Cass meant well.

  "I didn't have a choice."

  "Didn't?" Cass practically shrieked.

  "Look. I have to go straight. I don't want Sera worrying that every stranger who comes to town might be a U.S. Marshal sent to arrest her husband. And I don't want to keep looking over my shoulder, worrying that some bounty hunter is tracking a cold trail to scalp me for a reward."

  Cass muttered an oath, stalking for Jelli's saddle. "You're more stubborn than a trainload full of mules with constipation."

  "And just where do you think you're going?"

  "On the lam! With you!"

  "Uh... Bill?" Jesse didn't dare let his misty-eyed gratitude show. "I'm not going on the lam. I've got a lawyer now. Since Sera and Collie are willing to testify about Taggart's confession, Luke said he can clear me of all charges in Polly's death. And the statute of limitations ran out on all those stage coach robberies we did with Bart."

  Cass turned, his eyes narrowing. "What about the rustling and the smuggling?"

  "Luke has a plan for that, too. Fact is, Ben already knows about those warrants. He recognized me from an old Wanted Poster. But after the way you and I comported ourselves—"

  "Comported?" Cass made a face. "I told you to stop yacking my ears off in Cherokee."

  Jesse cleared his throat.

  "After the way we solved Gunther's and Polly's murders," he explained wryly, "Ben offered to smooth things over with the U.S. Marshal's office."

  "What about the loot?"

  "What loot?"

  "The $20,000 payroll."

  Jesse was tempted to box his Coyote pal's ears. "Will you give it up already? Bart buried it when he was roostered. I figure that's why he never spent it. The dumbass probably couldn't find it again. Served him right, too."

  "But aren't you just a wee bit tempted to—"

  "No!"

  "Sheesh." Cass grimaced, making a great show of digging a forefinger in his ear. "Turn a body deaf, why don't ya?"

  Jesse shot him a withering look. "Ben asked me to stay on as his deputy. To keep the peace in this region of the county. And Mayor Frothingale is petitioning the Town Council to change the ordinance, so I can continue to be Blue Thunder's marshal after I'm a married man."

  Understanding dawned on Cass's Coyote face. He folded his arms across his chest. "Deputy sheriff, huh?"

  "That's right."

  "And town marshal?"

  "Yep."

  "I'll be damned."

  "Ben says there's always room for a good man with a quick draw in the Whitley County sheriff's office," Jesse said, careful not to sound too eager and scare Cass off for good. "Don't you think it's high time you got a tin star of your own?"

  "Hmm." Cass slid him a sly look. "Reckon it might be. Is that law wrangler of yours still taking on new clients?"

  A few days later, though, Cass finally confessed that Sera had described a vision of him Rangering. That's when Jesse quietly admitted defeat. He, too, had learned to trust Sera's half-sight. He recognized he'd be selfish to pressure Cass to settle down in Blue Thunder and become a Kentucky tinstar.

  Cass's dream—and his destiny—were in Texas.

  * * *

  "Lawd aw'mighty," Cass drawled, buckling the girth strap on Jelli's saddle. He glanced over his shoulder at Collie, who was packing his gelding three feet behind him. "You're hauling that coon all the way to Texas?"

  "Hell, yeah," Collie retorted, tightening the ropes that lashed Vandy's wicker basket to the rump of his roan—formerly, McCoy's roan.

  "We have plenty of coons in Texas," Cass assured him.

  "Bumpkin coons, maybe. Who don't know the difference between a widdy and a file."

  Cass rolled his eyes. "Or a stick of licorice."

  "Feeling lucky, Snake Bait? Name a flower."

  "You mean like a pansy?"

  Suddenly, Vandy bellowed a war cry. He reared up in his basket, his fangs gnashing, his ears flattening, his claws spreading like little black daggers.

  Cass's face dissolved in a comical mask of terror. Trapped between the two horses, he threw up his hands to fend off Collie's pet. "No pansy! No pansy!"

  "Petunia," Collie ordered the coon.

  In the next heartbeat, Vandy turned mild-mannered again. He slumped back into his basket, snuffling for hiccurs.

  "What the devil was that?" Cass shouted at the boy.

  "Vandy's kill word."

  "Are you insane?"

  Collie smirked, throwing his boot into the stirrup. "You know how many times a fella uses, 'kill,' in a conversation? Kill the lights? Kill the pain? Kill the cockroach? Coons are smart, but you can't confuse them. You have to train 'em to obey words that they aren't likely to hear every day. Like that posy you mentioned."

  Jesse snickered at the bemusement on Cass's face.

  "Just wait 'til you get a case of Cupid Cramps," Cass grumbled, "and some girl asks you to pick her flowers."

  "Ain't gonna happen."

  Sera smothered a giggle at Jesse's side.

  The time had come. The nip of autumn was in the air. The sun was nearly at its zenith. Collie, Cass, and Vandy had eaten a hearty lunch. The horses were packed and waiting. Friends and family had gathered on Doc Jones's porch to say their farewells.

  Cass strolled with his long, swaggering gait across the drive. He shook Michael's hand and kissed Eden's cheek. He winked at Allison and swung Becky around in his arms. He saluted Luke and Ben and let Aunt Claudia pinch his cheek with her impish cackle.

  Then, flashing his wide, Coyote grin, he pressed his hand to his heart and dropped to one knee before Sera. "Marry me and be my queen."

  She laughed, tugging him to his feet. "Alas, Prince of Knaves, I am promised to the King of Hearts."

  "Curses. Foile
d again."

  He chuckled, wrapping her in a bear hug. She sniffled, clinging to his shoulders.

  Jesse stepped aside to allow them their privacy. He didn't know everything that had transpired between Cass and Sera during those three days in the orphanage, but he did know one thing. Cass didn't play the buffoon unless he had feelings for a woman. Strong feelings.

  And Cass isn't the only one who'll miss Sera, Jesse mused, noting Collie's wistful expression.

  At last the moment had come that Jesse had been dreading. Cass stood before him, extending his hand.

  They shook.

  "I'll be back for that June wedding of yours," Cass drawled.

  Jesse couldn't bear it. He clasped Cass to his heart. "I'll hold you to it, brother. And so will Sera—with her army of ghosts."

  Cass chuckled in his ear. "Just make sure your first rug-rat is named after me."

  "Payback, eh?"

  "Damned straight."

  Cass's fingers tightened on Jesse's shoulders.

  "I'm just a wire away," Jesse reminded him thickly.

  "Yep." Cass released him. He was grinning through his tears.

  "Be sure to let me know how your meeting goes with Ben's Ranger friend."

  "Sure thing." Cass winked. He straightened his Stetson on his head.

  Then he was gathering Jelli's reins and swinging himself into the saddle.

  "Aw, geez," Collie groused. "Are your eyes leaking? Just when I started looking up to you?"

  "You look up to me? Really? You're not just saying that?"

  "Of course I'm just saying that, Snake Bait! Are we gonna ride, or ain't we?"

  Cass smirked. "You mean, 'aren't we,'" he corrected the boy loftily.

  "Don't start."

  "Ladies like men who look, act, and speak like gentlemen."

  "I ain't worried."

  "Am not worried."

  Collie spurred his horse after Jelli. "So help me God, I'm gonna plug you before we reach the town marker."

  Jesse couldn't help but laugh at their brotherly feuding. Still, letting Cass mount up without him was one of the hardest things he'd ever done in his life. He was grateful when Sera slid her soft, comforting arm around his waist.

  S'long, Cass. Stay safe.

  * * *

  It was October, Indian Summer, and the start of the Cherokee New Year. The sky was a brilliant, cloudless dome of indigo, arching over a woodland canopy of crimson, topaz, and rust. Splashing musically at the entrance to a cave-turned- sinkhole, Ywahoo Falls sparked with glimmering rainbows that danced like celebrations of the dawn's blooming light.

  Sera had been too excited to sleep. She'd sneaked out of her bedroom early, guided by Venus and a breathtaking, harvest moon, to rendezvous with her lover on sacred ground. Jesse had wanted their Cherokee Wedding to be a private affair, during the Month of New Beginnings, before the Great Spirit that he revered. Sera had understood his request, since his kin had all departed from this world, and her kin would not have considered a Cherokee ritual binding before God.

  Sera had been preparing for weeks. She'd dared to consult with Claudia, and the rapscallion had surprised her. Misty-eyed and grinning, Claudia had profusely thanked her to be included in her secret plans. It had been Claudia who'd sneaked off to Henderson, the heart of Kentucky's Cherokee Nation, to procure the fringed and beaded robe of white buffalo that now served as Sera's wedding dress.

  And it had been Claudia who'd instructed Sera, in painstaking detail, how to dye and weave flax, so that she could create the traditional black and red belt, which she would give to Jesse at the appropriate moment in the ceremony, replacing the Christian ring.

  Now Sera stood on a limestone ledge of mist and rainbows, her sacred buffalo robe cloaked by the humble folds of a sky-blue blanket that symbolized her individuality in the world. In her hands, she held an earthen bowl filled with corn, representing the nourishment that she would bring to her husband and her household. Her long, riotous curls had been tamed, plaited and bound by deerhide strips; her feet nestled snugly in brown moccasins, lined with lamb's fur.

  But other parts of her costume had been her own invention. She had created them to honor the strong-willed women of the Cherokee, a people that honored its females by elevating them to leadership roles.

  For Hiawassee, Sera's head was crowned with a simple circlet, woven from meadowsweet and clover.

  For Talking Raven, Sera sported an iridescent, black feather in her hair.

  For Claudia, Sera had sewn a tiny, leather pouch-pendant—which the Cherokees called a Medicine Bag. Inside that bag was the petrified wolf's fang that Claudia had given her. Sera had taken great care to measure the cord of the pouch, so it would hang over her heart, and she had decorated the leather with the image of a wolf's head, using a red dye extracted from the crushed root of a dandelion.

  Finally, for all the Cherokee innocents who still inhabited Ywahoo Falls, Sera had streaked her cheeks with a paint made from the dye of blue holly—a plant sacred to the Panther Clan, the keepers of healing herbs and children's medicines.

  Now Sera waited, breathing deeply of the mist and the earth, the wind and the pines, and the fragrant scent of burning timber. Claudia had explained that the Sacred Fire must burn from seven woods—hickory, maple, oak, beech, ash, birch and locust—to honor the Seven Clans.

  As Sera watched the smoke from that Sacred Fire spiral toward the last winking star in the sky, she knew that Jesse was near. She could feel his presence, like sunshine in her heart. They had agreed to start walking toward the riverbank when the shadows of night had retreated from the pyre. Sera had chosen to walk from the south, which the Cherokees associated with peace and happiness. Jesse had chosen to arrive from the east, the path of Grandmother Sun, which represented the fire of life.

  The daystar was climbing higher now, chasing away the last of Grandfather Moon's shadows. Sera spied movement to the east. She caught her breath.

  Jesse was emerging from a cave on the cliff. When he turned toward her, his magnificent physique became limned in crimson flares. He'd gathered his blue-black mane into a pony tail that stood straight up from the top of his head. Attached to the sidelock that curled down from his left temple was a gray feather—Owl, her intuition whispered. Attached to the left sidelock was a rust-brown feather. Hawk, the whisper came again.

  His chest appeared to be naked beneath the blue blanket that draped his shoulders, but deer hide leggings hugged his muscular legs, and his feet were covered in moccasins.

  Claudia had warned her that a Cherokee brave was expected to bring venison to his bride as a symbol of his hunting prowess and as a promise that he would be a good provider. Secretly, Sera had worried what she would do with a whole hock of venison, especially while draped in a pristinely white robe!

  But Jesse, ever intuitive, must have sensed the distress of his bride-to-be. Rather than bringing the gift of uncured meat, he'd devised a back-up plan. Demonstrating his mastery of "Varmint Voodoo" (as Cass liked to call it,) Jesse tugged gently on a hemp rope. A live, young doe stepped out of the cave. Affectionately, she nuzzled his hand.

  As he began his descent toward the sacred fire, the deer followed docilely in his shadow. Behind the doe trailed an army of Cherokee spirits—braves, squaws and children, too—all parading solemnly after their Panther Brother.

  Sera drew a bolstering breath.

  She clutched her bowl tighter and began her descent.

  They timed their steps so that they would arrive at the pyre simultaneously. Hiawassee was waiting for them, her Eternal Body glowing a spectacular bluish-white as she stood in the Sacred Fire. Sera sensed that the lovely woman who detached herself from the ghostly procession, and who came to stand at Jesse's side, had been his mother in this life.

  But Sera's side of the fire had its ethereal guests, too. Gabriel was waiting for her, along with the spirit whom Sera hadn't seen since she'd been four-years-old. On that particular Christmas Eve, she'd stood among the tombstones o
f her father's church, admiring the angels that were dancing on a freshly turned grave.

  Mama.

  Sera blinked back ecstatic tears.

  Jesse took her hand, and they knelt before each other, exchanging vows and gifts. Jesse's eyes were as deep as the verdant earth as he fastened a heart-shaped pendant, made of the iridescent blue and green swirls of the abalone shell, around her neck.

  Then he began to chant. Hiawassee joined him in his prayer, speaking the words in Cherokee:

  Great Spirit, hear our prayer.

  Before Father Sky and Mother Earth,

  And all the wonders of the world,

  We offer our deepest gratitude for Your guidance,

  For the day that You helped us find each other,

  For the moment when You reunited our Spirits,

  And for this sacred morning now,

  When we pledge our lives in love.

  We ask that Father Sky embrace us,

  That we may always know his wisdom

  as we walk the Good Red Road.

  We ask that Mother Earth nurture us,

  That our union may always know plentitude and peace.

  We ask that Sacred Fire warm our hearts,

  And keep our love-flame burning bright.

  We ask that Sacred Water purify us,

  That we may always honor each other's Truth.

  We ask that Sacred Wind breeze us through the storms,

  Refreshed and renewed in the commitment to our love.

  Great Spirit, we pray that we may live

  In harmony with your creations:

  With our Cousins who are Feathered, Furred, and Finned,

  With the Stone People and the Green Brothers,

  And with all the Powers, both seen and unseen,

  That orchestrate this world.

  Great Spirit, we ask for Your blessing,

  That we may find happiness with each passing season;

  That our love may deepen with each rising sun and star;