by Robin Deeter
Walt smiled. “Thanks.”
He knew that would change as soon as she left the room. It always did with criminals. True to form, she’d no sooner gotten out the door before the crook leaned forward and whispered that he didn’t do it. Walt nodded, pretended to take notes, and made sympathetic noises, but he’d made up his mind about the client’s guilt after the first few sentences out of the man’s mouth.
Walt was happy to let the man go on about his poor family and bad upbringing, things that would have no bearing on the case. After twenty minutes, Walt informed the thief that he had all of the information he needed and that he’d see him on the day of the trial, which was set for the next week. They shook hands and Walt tapped on the door for Ellie to come get the prisoner.
Usually Walt would have stuck around a little to invite Ellie to dinner, but he was somewhat distracted that day. As she came out of the cell area down the hall, Walt gave her a friendly wave and headed for the door.
Ellie was tempted to just let him go so she didn’t have to deal with him, but a deal was a deal and she’d rather get her part of it over with.
“Walt, wait!” she called.
Surprised, Walt turned around quickly, almost dropping his briefcase. “Did ya need somethin’ then?”
Ellie was normally very good around men, but not when it came to Walt. She ran her eyes over his tall form and up to his bright hazel eyes. His dark brown hair was always tussled, giving him a slightly harried look and he rarely looked like he’d shaven. It was hard to get a fix on his build because his clothes were rumpled and loose on him.
“Well, I was thinking about your last dinner invitation and thought, what the heck? What could it hurt?” she responded, cringing inwardly at the brusque statement. “That didn’t come out right. What I meant was that I’d very much like to dine with you.”
Walt smiled. “Well, this is a pleasant surprise. A very pleasant one. When does it suit ya?” It was hard to contain his excitement, but he managed it.
“How about tomorrow tonight? Is that too short notice?” she asked.
“Not at all. Will seven be all right?”
“That’ll be fine,” she said.
Walt nodded. “Good. I’ll come for ya then. I know where ya live.”
Ellie blinked a couple of times. “You do?”
“Aye. I know where all of the law enforcement staff live. I never know when I might need one of ya,” Walt said. “Well, have a good day. I’m lookin’ forward to our evenin’.”
Ellie forced herself to say, “Me, too. See ya then.”
Walt waited until he was well away from the sheriff’s office before allowing himself to grin like an idiot.
*****
When Brock got back to the sheriff’s office, he was dismayed to find that Ellie had already made good on her promise to let Walt take her out.
“Your turn,” she said, smiling overly-sweetly at him as he sat down at his desk.
He frowned. “Shut up. I’m working on it. I can’t help it that I didn’t see Daphne yet. So how is old Gainsey?”
Ellie said, “He’s not old. Huh. Come to think of it, I don’t know how old he is. I’m guessing about thirty or thereabouts. Do you know how old he is?”
Brock laughed. “No, but I’m not surprised. No one knows a whole lot about him. I guess he’s lived around here about five years or so.”
“How’d he become a lawyer?” Ellie asked.
“You’ll have to ask him yourself because I have no idea,” Brock said. “I’ll be interested to hear about how things went. Where’s Cy?”
“In his office,” Ellie said. “He’s brooding about the Clifford case. Best to let him be. You know how he gets when he’s like that.”
Brock let out a short hum of understanding and took out a small notepad. He quickly wrote something on it, ripped it off, and pulled out an envelope from a desk drawer. Tucking the paper inside it, he sealed it shut, and wrote on it. Ellie was a very curious person and tried to see what he was writing, but her desk was too far away from his.
Looking up, Brock caught her watching him. “I’ll be right back, Miss Busybody,” he said.
“Just a little hint?” Ellie coaxed.
“Nope,” Brock said, grinning before he went through the kitchen and out the back door.
*****
Pudge sat on Cy’s desk, looking out the window, his big, dark eyes taking in the scene outside it. Cy smiled at the intense look on the pug’s face as he sketched him. Drawing often helped Cy work through tough cases and Pudge was always a willing model.
Suddenly Pudge yipped and jumped off the desk, scattering papers and knocking Cy’s cup of coffee over in his haste to get to the door. Pudge barked and pranced while Cy swore and rushed to mop up the mess before the coffee destroyed too many papers.
The door to the old shed that Cy had confiscated opened and Brock came inside, shutting the door quickly against the brisk wind. A scratch at the door made Brock back up and reopen the door. Slink and Burt crowded into what Brock had dubbed the Dog House.
Cy looked at Brock. “What?”
This was how he normally greeted Brock.
Brock looked at Slink. “I see that Rob’s wife made Slink another sweater.”
Slink nudged Brock’s hand, wanting to be petted. Cy grunted as his gaze traveled disapprovingly over the gray and white garment.
“I keep telling her that he’s fine without it, but she has it in her head that he’s too skinny to be able to keep warm,” Cy said.
“Well, to be fair, the poor dog doesn’t have very thick fur,” Brock said. “What’s the harm in him wearing a sweater?”
“The problem is that it makes it easier for someone to get a hold of him and hurt him,” Cy said. “And it also increases the risk of him getting caught on something. I don’t want him to get used to wearing one because he’s gonna want to do it all the time. If we’re out in the field and he has one on, I’m not gonna have time to stop and take it off.”
Brock accepted a kiss on his cheek from Slink. “Oh. I never thought about that.”
Cy said, “The first rule to working with dogs is always minimizing the danger to them. That’s why I’m the only one who feeds them. If they get used to accepting food from other people, it makes it easy for them to be poisoned.”
“Ok, ok,” Brock said. “I didn’t come out here for a dog training lesson. Give this to Daphne.”
Cy took the envelope, read his sister’s name on it, and narrowed his eyes at Brock. “What is it?”
“It’s a note. Don’t read it,” Brock said. “Any breakthroughs on the Clifford case?”
Cy sat down in his chair and motioned to the other one. “Might as well walk through it together and see what we come up with.”
Putting on the professional persona he used around Cy, Brock sat and prepared for a round of the back and forth brainstorming that he and Cy had developed. They might not like each other much personally, but they worked well professionally. By the time a half an hour had passed, they’d come up with another couple of leads to check into.
When Brock got up to leave, Cy tapped the envelope Brock had given him. “Am I gonna like this?”
Brock’s face relaxed into a devilish grin. “Nope.”
Cy wanted to throw a knife at Brock’s back as he quickly left his office.
*****
Daphne washed the supper dishes while her cousin, Johnny, dried. He usually offered and she was glad because he provided a good diversion from her sometimes depressing thoughts.
“I can’t believe we had two calves born on the same day,” he said as she handed him another dish to dry. “One Hereford and one Longhorn. And our Holstein pair will be here next week, too. Things are moving along. Leigh’s a genius.”
Daphne laughed. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you had a crush on her the way you go on about her.”
Johnny’s blue eyes sparkled even as he blushed. “Naw, but she is a beautiful woman. Cy’s a lucky man
. I just appreciate her smarts, that’s all. Plus, she’s so nice.”
“Yes, Leigh is a good woman and the smartest thing Cy ever did was marrying her,” Daphne said, ignoring the pinprick of jealously to her heart.
“Yep,” Johnny said.
Daphne said, “When we’re done here, I want you to try on those shirts I made for you.”
“Ok. I’ll give you money for the material,” Johnny said.
“That’s not necessary,” Daphne said.
Johnny said, “Yeah, it is. I got some money now since I’ve been making some stuff for folks and material ain’t cheap. I don’t want you and Cy to keep buying stuff for me. It ain’t right.”
“Johnny, you know that we haven’t minded. You’ve had a hard time of it. Besides, you built that beautiful arch for the driveway and you’ve been making all kinds of repairs around here. The porch looks great, by the way,” Daphne said.
He shrugged. “It’s the least I could do since you and Cy have been so good to me. But it’s time for me to start making my own way. A man has to be able to stand on his own two feet, Daphne.”
Daphne smiled. She’d never tell him since men didn’t like to be called adorable, but he was. With his messy blond hair, bright blue eyes, and dimples, Johnny was the sort of man that many girls went for. He was always respectful of women and did anything he was asked.
Over the year that he’d been with her and Cy, he’d filled out more and lost some of his boyishness. His face was a little more chiseled and his shoulders broader. But he’d kept his sweet, affable personality.
“I’m very proud of you for working so hard,” Daphne said.
“Thanks.”
The rapid pitter-patter of dog paws sounded on the stairs and their collie pup, Queenie came barreling into the kitchen, barking up a storm. She went to the door, pawing at it.
Johnny said, “Cy must be home. She only goes crazy like that when him and the rest come along.”
Daphne dried her hands and opened the kitchen door. Queenie ran outside, making a beeline for the barn. It wasn’t too long before her brother strode in the door.
“Hi,” he said. “How are you guys?”
“We’re fine,” Daphne said. “You look tired.”
“No more than usual,” he said. “Here. This is for you.”
Daphne took the envelope he handed her. She read annoyance and curiosity in his expression before reading her name on the front of it.
“Who is it from?” she asked.
Cy’s expression darkened. “Brock.”
Hope flashed in Daphne’s heart, but she kept calm as she opened the envelope and took out the note.
Daphne,
I can’t get you out of my mind. Will you join me for dinner tomorrow night? Let Cy know your answer. If it’s yes, I’ll pick you up tomorrow night at seven unless an emergency comes up. I’ll pray real hard that it doesn’t.
Brock
Daphne couldn’t stop the big smile that lit up her face. “He wants to have dinner tomorrow night.” She put a hand to her forehead. “I don’t believe it. After all this time.”
Cy grunted and hung up his coat and hat.
Daphne said, “I don’t care if you like it or not, Cy. Don’t begrudge me happiness.”
Cy faced her again. “I’m not. I just don’t want you to get hurt. I don’t understand why he wants to see you since you’re part Comanche. He’s always hated us because of our heritage.”
“Maybe he’s coming around,” Daphne said. “I’m a grown woman, Cy. I’m willing to take a chance.”
Cy arched a brow, conveying his doubt. “I just don’t understand what you see in him. Can you answer me that?”
Daphne met his gaze. “I think there’s a lot more to Brock than what you see.”
“I see too much of him,” Cy said. “Now I have to see him outside of work, too.”
Johnny frowned. “This isn’t about you, Cy. This is about something that makes Daphne happy. Besides, it’s her business if she wants to be courted by Brock.”
Cy’s eyes widened. Johnny didn’t normally take sides when he and Daphne argued. “Do you like Brock?”
Johnny shrugged. “I don’t know him well enough to know if I do or not. Just because you don’t get along with him doesn’t mean that other people don’t.”
Cy knew he wasn’t going to change Daphne’s mind about seeing Brock, so he dropped the subject in favor of a much more pleasant one. “Where’s my wife?”
“At Cotton’s,” Daphne said.
“It’s dark out,” Cy responded, stepping over to the sink to wash up.
Daphne chuckled. “Your wife will be fine. She can handle herself just fine. Now sit down and eat your supper.”
Cy opened the door and let out a sharp whistle. The dogs soon ran in the door, greeting Daphne and Johnny. Cy got out their food bowls and divvied out the scraps that Daphne had put into a larger bowl for them.
He snapped his fingers. “Sit!”
All four canines dropped their haunches to the floor.
“Stay.”
Cy lined the bowls up by the far wall and walked away. However, he didn’t give them permission to eat just yet. He waited until he’d washed his hands again.
“Go ahead,” he said.
The dogs leaped for their bowls, downing half their meal before Cy had barely begun his own. Queenie finished hers and then stared at Pudge, who stood next to her. The Pug glanced at her and she whined. Cy watched with a smile as Pudge took out a piece of chicken from his bowl, put it on the floor, and nudged it over to her. Queenie gobbled it up and gave Pudge’s ear a couple licks of thanks.
Johnny laughed. “Pudge is a ladies’ man. One of these days we’ll have little Pollies or Cugs. What would you call them?”
“Ugly,” Cy said.
Daphne hit his shoulder. “That’s not nice.”
“But it’s true,” Cy said. “Can you imagine a long-haired Pudge or a short Collie?”
Daphne laughed as she imagined that. “I’m not sure what you’d use a dog like that for, but knowing you, you’d find something.”
Cy grinned. “Well, we’re not gonna find out. I’ll find a suitable stud Collie when the time is right.”
Johnny said, “You’d better make sure Pudge isn’t around when that other dog is. He’ll fight for his lady.”
Though Pudge was small, he was solid muscle and fearless around other animals. He’d chased horses, dogs, cats, and once had even gone after a coyote. His size didn’t deter him from fighting any perceived enemy.
Johnny said, “Well, I’ll see you in the morning. I’m gonna go work on that sign I’m making for Mr. Skyler. I told him I’d have it for him by the end of the week.”
Daphne said, “Don’t be up too late.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Johnny said. “Goodnight.”
Cy lifted his hand in response as his cousin went out the door. Daphne said, “Goodnight. I’m going to bed a little early. Tell Brock that I said yes.”
Knowing it was useless to try to change her mind, Cy said, “Ok. Goodnight.”
Daphne took the note Brock had sent and went upstairs, her happiness too strong to be dimmed by Cy’s disapproval.
Chapter Three
Leigh put her horse, Cutter, away and gave him a little bit of sweet feed as a treat before going into the house. It was dark downstairs and she figured that Daphne had already gone to bed. Cy’s horse was in the barn, so she knew that he was home. She hung up her coat and hat and took off her boots before mounting the stairs.
Just as she passed the washroom, someone grabbed her from behind, clamping a hand over her mouth and pulling her roughly against them.
“Do I need to be jealous of you and Cotton?” Cy growled into her ear.
His warm breath grazed her skin and her pulse jumped in response. She shook her head, smiling against his palm. Then his free hand traveled up over her midriff to cup her breast and she gasped. Heat pooled inside and she swallowed a moan.
&nb
sp; Cy laughed softly, kissed her cheek, and released her. “I’m glad to hear that.”
He practically dragged her into their room, quickly shutting the door. Leigh saw that he’d been reading one of his law journals. He was always reading up on new investigative and forensic techniques. She also noted that he was shirtless, revealing his muscular torso and arms.
She looped her arms around his neck, pressing a kiss to his lips. “Hello, Detective.”
His short beard and mustache were pleasantly scratchy. She hadn’t been sure at first that she would like him with a beard, but she had to admit that he looked good with one. Cy had told her that he usually grew one for the winter. Unlike his cousins, who seemed to have inherited more Comanche traits than he had, Cy was able to grow a beard and his chest was covered in a fine matting of short, dark hair.
“Hello, honey. Did you have a good day?” he asked.
“Two calves were born and they’re healthy, so I’d call that a good day.”
Cy leaned forward, buried his face against her neck, and inhaled her scent. She smelled of horses, hay, and Leigh; a combination that drove him crazy. “Good. We need healthy calves. Which kinds?”
“Hereford and Longhorn.”
When Cy’s teeth scored the sensitive skin near her ear, Leigh couldn’t hold back a moan. His hands traveled down her back to her rear end, giving it a playful squeeze.
She squealed a little and he laughed.
“I keep telling you that that tickles,” she said smiling into his dark eyes.
“And I keep telling you that I like hearing you make that sound, so that’s why I do it,” he said.
The heat in his gaze made her body temperature rise. “Shut up,” she said, pressing her mouth to his.
Cy chuckled against her lips and then sucked in a breath when he felt Leigh’s fingers skim over his stomach before going to his trouser buttons. She took advantage and deepened the kiss. He tasted of beer and some sort of dessert. These weren’t two flavors that normally went together, but Leigh had discovered that anything tasted good when it came to Cy.
