by Robin Deeter
The others exchanged surprised glances.
Cy crouched down by the sofa. “What could be so bad that you guys would stop being friends?”
“Daphne, Leigh, will you excuse me and Cy? I can’t say it with you here. No offense, ladies.”
“Sure,” Leigh said.
She and Daphne went to the kitchen. Daphne put the tea kettle on to heat. A cup of tea with a little ginger would help Johnny’s stomach.
Cy waited until he was sure the women were out of hearing range. “What happened, Johnny?”
Johnny took a deep breath and then told Cy what had transpired that morning. Cy was so surprised that he sat down on the floor.
“Ray is a hustler?”
“Yeah. I can’t believe it. I thought I knew him. I thought he was a good guy even though he slept around. He just slept around more than I knew. I can’t pretend to approve. He said that I was being holier-than-thou, and maybe I am, but I can’t go against my beliefs, Cy.”
“I understand,” Cy said. “Wow.”
Johnny asked, “Are you gonna arrest him?”
Cy said, “No. If I do that, then I have to arrest Sandy’s girls. Despite the morality issue, he’s not doing anything different than they do.”
“Yeah. I guess you’re right. I don’t know how much more I can take. First, I’m shot, then Dory leaves, and now this with Ray. I lost my best friend and the woman I love.”
Cy squeezed Johnny’s shoulder. “Hang in there, kid. Things’ll get better. One day at a time.”
Johnny laid his head back and closed his eyes, not trusting himself to answer. There was nothing to say, anyway. Exhausted from all of the physical and emotional stress, he dropped off almost immediately.
When Johnny’s breathing became deep and regular, Cy left the parlor. When he walked into the kitchen, Leigh and Daphne’s expressions were filled with curiosity.
“This can’t go any further than this room,” he said.
Both women nodded and Cy began the story.
Chapter Eighteen
Cy looked out the window of the Dog House, not really seeing the scene outside. He was worried about Johnny and wondered how he was doing. When Brock came in, Cy welcomed the distraction.
“What?”
Brock smiled. “I want to talk to you about something personal.”
Cy leaned a hip on his desk. “Shoot.”
“I’ll get right to it. I love your sister. I admit that I was an idiot not to court her before I did. She’s everything I could want in a woman. I respect her and I’ll always treat her well. I’m asking for your permission to ask her to marry me,” Brock said.
Cy crossed his arms over his chest. “So our Comanche heritage is no longer an issue?”
“No. I’ve really worked hard on that. I don’t see Daphne as Comanche. She’s just the woman I love who happens to have that heritage,” he said.
“What about the rest of our family?”
Brock’s expression turned hard. “I’m willing to try to get along with them, but I’d like them to meet me halfway.”
Cy nodded. “Where would you live?”
Brock shook a finger at him. “That’s the problem. I don’t want to live with my family, but I don’t know if you and I would survive living together.”
“I agree.” Cy rubbed his chin. “Daphne’s not going to want to move out. She’s too used to running the house.”
“Right. Which complicates things. I have no problem buying a place, but I know how attached she is to that house,” Brock said.
“But I’m not attached to it. It holds a lot of good memories for me, but I wouldn’t have any problem moving. In fact, me and Leigh have been talking about building our own house on the property.”
Brock held up his hands. “Ok, let’s back up to my question. Does this mean that I have your permission or not?”
Cy appreciated Brock’s respect for tradition. “Not that you really need it, but, yeah. You have my permission. Why she had to pick you of all men, I don’t know, but I’m not gonna stand in your way.”
Brock held out his hand and Cy shook it.
“Thanks. So you’d really move out?” Brock asked.
Cy said, “Yeah. Leigh and I would like to build a place together. Somewhere that’s ours. Know what I mean?”
“Yeah. And I really don’t care where Daphne and I live, as long as we’re together,” Brock said.
“Well, we won’t be able to build until spring since we’ll need to dig a cellar and lay the foundation.”
Brock said, “I think it would be good to wait until after the holidays, but I’m not waiting until April to marry her.”
Both men frowned.
Then Cy gave Brock a speculative look. “Think we can get along until then?”
Brock smiled. “I don’t think we have a choice.”
Cy grunted in agreement. “When are you gonna ask her?”
“Not sure yet. I want it to be special.”
“Ok. I’m hungry. Let’s go get lunch at the Chowhound. We’ll see if Ellie and Rob want anything,” Cy said.
Brock’s eyes widened and he put a hand to his chest. “Is the sky gonna fall?”
“What do you mean?”
“You just asked me to go to lunch with you. I never thought I’d see the day that would ever happen,” Brock said.
Cy laughed. “Shut up before I take the invite back. Let’s go.”
“Yeah. You’re even crankier when you’re hungry.”
“I told you to shut up.”
They left the Dog House, trading sarcastic remarks as they went.
*****
“Where are we going?” Daphne asked Brock as they traveled along a trail that ran past Cotton’s place.
That’s where she’d originally thought they were going, but Brock had led her around her uncle’s tipis.
“It’s a surprise,” Brock said, squeezing her hand.
Daphne’s curiosity made her impatient. She was often impatient when it came to surprises and she had a nosy streak.
“How much farther?”
Her question made Brock grin. “Are you like this at Christmas, too? I can just picture you snooping around the house trying to find all the presents when you were a kid.”
Daphne laughed. “Yes. I was terrible. Cy wasn’t any better. We used to pretend to be detectives on the trail of criminals.”
“Why am I not surprised?” Brock said, laughing. “He really was born to be a detective. Don’t get me wrong, I love my job, but I’m not quite as driven as he is.”
“Leigh’s been working on that,” Daphne said. “He’s always been so intense about everything. It’s good that she’s helping him loosen up some.”
“Good. God knows he needs it,” Brock said. “There’s more to life than work. I’m glad he’s learning that.”
“Me, too.”
Brock said, “Here we are.”
Daphne was confused by the sight of a small tipi in an area that had been cleared of underbrush. “What is this?”
“It’s a tipi.”
She lightly punched his arm. “I know that. What’s it doing here? Whose is it?”
“I put it here and it’s ours.”
Daphne met his gaze. “Ours?”
“Yeah. We don’t have much privacy at my house or yours. It’s too cold out to spend much time outside. I want us to be able to spend time together where we don’t have to worry about people coming in and out,” Brock said.
“So you built a tipi for us?” she asked.
“Yeah. I wanted to honor your heritage and show you that I don’t harbor bad feelings against it anymore.”
His statement gave her a warm feeling inside. “I’m so glad to hear you say that. You don’t know how much that means to me.”
He pressed a kiss to her lips. “Come on. Let’s get in out of the cold.”
“No argument here,” Daphne said.
Brock held back the tipi flap for her and took off his hat before ducki
ng in behind her. A fire burned in the center of the tipi. Over it hung a cooking pot and other cooking equipment.
“Please be seated, madam,” Brock said in a British accent while he took off his coat.
Daphne giggled and sat down cross-legged, removing hers as well.
“You make that look so easy,” Brock said, lowering himself down a little awkwardly.
“I’ve been doing it since I was a kid, so I’ve had a lot of practice.”
He smiled as he took the lid off the cooking pot. “I made us a traditional Indian meal. Cotton told me how, but I did it all by myself and I made a few alterations.”
“It smells wonderful. Your sweet potatoes and cranberry sauce on Thanksgiving were delicious. I’m sure this will be, too,” she responded.
Brock’s thoughtful gestures touched Daphne. That he’d done all of this told her that his change of heart towards her heritage was real. Watching him fill a bowl with stew, she loved the way the firelight flickered in his blue eyes, turning them a little green.
He handed the bowl to her. “I killed and butchered the deer this meat came from. Not only that, I shot it with a bow and arrow. I had Cotton give me lessons and I’m pretty good now.”
Daphne grinned. “You learned how to shoot a bow and arrow?”
He dipped himself a bowl of stew. “Yeah. It was rough going at first. I almost poked out my eye and I pinched my fingers a couple of times. Not to mention the fact that my aim stunk. It sure gave Cotton a lot of laughs, though. I figured that I needed to prove that I could provide for my maiden.”
The image of Brock dressed in traditional Comanche garb made her laugh. “I wish I could’ve seen that.”
“I’m glad you didn’t. I was embarrassed enough as it was. Cotton just fired off shots like it was nothing. It made me work harder at it, though. I was determined to master it,” Brock said.
Daphne took a sip of the hot stew. It was rich and hearty with a different flavor than she was used to. “Is that rosemary?”
“Yeah and a little parsley. The ground is too hard to dig up tubers, so I cheated a little and used potatoes and carrots. Onions, too.”
“It’s delicious. The venison is so tender. I’d say that you’d make a fine brave, Deputy. We could call you Pokes Out His Eye.”
Brock almost choked on his stew over the funny name. He swallowed and then let his laughter loose. She laughed with him.
“And your name would be Woman Too Nosy.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “I’ll get you for that. Us Comanche have great ways to exact revenge.”
His grin made her heart skip a couple of beats. “I’m sure you do.”
When they’d finished their stew, Brock set about making fry bread. Daphne liked watching him cook it. She approved of the way he mixed and handled the dough. He was competent and sure as he went about shaping it. Then he dropped it in the hot oil and tended it until it turned a nice golden color.
He put a piece on a plate and drizzled a fruit dressing over it. “We don’t have chokecherries, so I used some raspberry preserves we canned this summer.”
When he handed the plate to her, she saw that he’d made her piece heart-shaped.
“Well, aren’t you romantic?” she said.
“I have my moments,” Brock said.
Balancing her plate on her lap, Daphne broke off a piece of the bread and popped it into her mouth. The sweet berry dressing and crispy bread created a heavenly combination.
“That’s scrumptious, Brock.”
He’d also taken a bite. “Thanks. Not bad for my first time making it. It’s probably not as good as what you make, but it’ll do.”
She shook her head. “It’s better than mine. I’m not especially good at making fry bread.”
Brock was pleased with himself. “Really? I thought all Indian women could cook.”
Daphne snorted. “No. Just like any other race, there are good and bad cooks. Women tried the best they could, but not all were skilled in making meals. Or sometimes they only had certain dishes they were good at, so that’s what they made all the time.”
“Really? I had no idea.”
“It’s the same for the men. Not all of them were good hunters and not all of them were ever meant to be leaders. But they used the abilities of each individual to make their tribe strong. Children are indulged and rarely spoken sharply to. They’re gently guided into good behavior or shamed into it. They’re praised for good behavior so much that they want to keep doing things the right way,” Daphne said.
Brock could easily see all of this in his mind as he listened to her and looked around the tipi. “Did your parents yell at you and Cy?”
Daphne giggled. “Pa tried to, but Ma always scolded him about it, so he would leave a lot of the discipline up to her.”
Brock said, “Pa didn’t do it too much, but every once in a while Aaron and I got the switch.”
Daphne said, “No child of mine will ever be hit like that.”
The firm tone of her voice and the suddenly fierce light in her eyes made it clear that this was a serious warning.
“Well, it was only when we did something really bad. Like the time Aaron set the woods in back of our house on fire. It was a good thing that we’d had a lot of rain or else we’d have lost the house and a lot of other homes would have been burned down,” Brock said. “He never played with matches out in the woods again.”
Daphne still didn’t like the idea, but she could see why Doug’s punishment had been so severe. Her father probably would have done the same thing to Cy.
“I’m glad that no one lost their home,” she said.
Brock was glad that they were having this sort of discussion. It gave him a glimpse into what kind of mother Daphne would be. As they finished their dessert, Brock grew nervous about what he was about to do.
Shifting closer to Daphne, he took her hand and kissed it. “You make me so happy, honey. Since we started seeing each other, I’ve come to see even more what a special woman you are. You make me laugh and you’re kind and caring.
“But you’re tough, too. I love all of the different sides of you. No one has ever made me feel the things you do. I love you so much and I can’t imagine my life without you. Daphne Running Doe Decker, will you become my wife so I can spend the rest of my life loving you?”
Daphne froze in place, her eyes growing larger.
“Did you just ask me to marry you?” Her voice was barely more than a whisper.
Fear tripped its way down Brock’s spine. “Yes, I did.”
Daphne launched herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck. Her momentum knocked him over. She landed on top of him, smothering his face and neck with kisses before pressing her lips to his. Then she smiled down into his startled eyes.
“Yes, Brock. I’ll marry you. I’d marry you tomorrow if I could,” she said.
She couldn’t contain her happiness as her heart swelled inside her chest. He’d finally said the words she’d longed to hear for so long, the ones she’d dreamt about. He flashed a grin at her and laughed, the rumbling sound vibrating against her palms where they rested on his chest.
“You scared me to death. I thought you were gonna turn me down at first,” he said.
“Don’t be stupid. Why would I turn down a proposal from the man I’ve loved for so long?”
Her kiss took the sting out her words. Brock reached into his jeans pocket and withdrew a ring box from it.
Breaking the kiss, he asked, “Would you like your engagement ring?”
Daphne sat up and Brock sucked in a breath because the movement caused her to straddle him. Wickedly, he didn’t make her move away.
“Hurry,” she said, holding out her hand.
He laughed. “Yep. Nosy and impatient.”
She glared at him as he took the ring out of the box and then gasped at the sight of the lovely ruby.
“This was my grandmother’s. She gave it to me before she passed and made me promise to give it to t
he woman who captured my heart.” He slid it on her finger. “And you have certainly captured my heart, Daphne. Uh kah-muh-kuh-tuh nuh.”
Hearing Brock say that he loved her in Comanche was so shocking and sweet that it made her eyes fill with tears. Holding her hand over her heart, she repeated it back to him. Brock broke out in gooseflesh as she said the words. She’d never spoken Comanche around him before and he suddenly realized that she’d been holding back from doing so. She’d most likely been afraid that it would repulse him.
However, it had the opposite effect. He’d never had anyone speak to him in anything but English.
“Say it again,” he said.
“Uh kah-muh-kuh-tuh nuh.”
It was the most erotic thing he’d ever heard. Sitting up, he wrapped his arms around her and kissed her with a passion that he couldn’t hold back. He demanded entry and when it was granted, he delved his tongue into Daphne’s mouth. The combination of berries and her own sweetness was intoxicating and he couldn’t get enough.
Daphne’s ardor matched his and she kissed him back fiercely, caught up in the sensual web he wove around her. This was what she’d wanted for what seemed like forever and she wanted more, needed more. She caressed his chest before moving her hands to his shirt buttons. When they were all undone, she opened the shirt, but she found that he wore an undershirt.
She gasped when Brock pulled her hips into harder contact with his. Even fully clothed it felt incredible and so intimate.
Breaking the kiss, she said, “Brock, I want to be with you. Please make love to me. Make me yours in every way.”
“I want that so much, but are you sure you don’t want to wait?” he asked.
She loved that he was so considerate of her, but she knew her own mind and this was what she wanted. Her gaze met his passion-filled eyes. “I want you, Brock, and I’m absolutely positive about this.” She caressed his strong jaw and brushed her lips against his. “Make love with me.”
With a growl, Brock captured her mouth again, kissing her until their breathing was ragged and desire raged through them. Pulling back from Daphne, Brock quickly unbuttoned her blouse and spread it open. He helped her get it off and layer by layer, her beauty was revealed to his hot gaze.
