Mail Order Mystery: A Brides of Beckham Book (Chance City Series Book One)

by Robin Deeter

  Cy gave her one. “Cotton’s homemade strawberry wine. Where did you find strawberries?”

  Cotton smiled. “I traded with the Widow Adams for them.” He gave them a mischievous wink.

  Cy groaned. “You mean you seduced her into giving you strawberries.”

  “She didn’t complain, trust me. What I gave her was well worth them. Knowing how to please a woman—”

  “Cotton!” Daphne protested. “Stop that!”

  He shrugged, but fell silent.

  Leigh fought laughter as she caught Cy’s eyes. The humor in his eyes was her undoing. A snort escaped Leigh and Cy laughed with her. Johnny joined in and Cotton chuckled.

  “Your woman has a sense of humor. That’s good,” he said.

  He refilled everyone’s cup and sat back.

  Leigh said, “Please don’t take offense, Cotton, but your accent is interesting. Where does it come from?”

  Cotton said, “Well, when I was ten, my band made friends with some traders and formed an alliance with them. A few of them were French and a couple were English. Both of them taught us children English and French, but they spoke with different accents. So combined with what you would call a Comanche accent, all of those accents mixed together, I guess you’d say.”

  Leigh found it very exotic and pleasing to the ear. “It’s very nice.”

  That devilish twinkle appeared in his eyes again. “Many women have told me that.”

  Cy groaned. “Knock it off. Cotton is quite the ladies man.”

  “My wife has been gone for many years, so there is no harm in enjoying myself,” Cotton said. “Or in spreading that enjoyment around.”

  “I think we need to change the subject,” Daphne said, her cheeks pink.

  “Very well,” Cotton said, chuckling. “I’ll help you put the arch up. I’ll come for breakfast. I’ll behave myself.”

  Daphne said, “You’d better or no breakfast for you.”

  Cotton just chuckled again. “More wine?”

  Chapter 10

  As she readied for bed that night, someone knocked on Leigh’s bedroom door. Opening it, she encountered Cy and sucked in a breath at seeing him wearing only his underwear. He backed her into the room silently, a heated look in his eyes.

  “Is something wrong?” she asked as he closed the door behind him.

  “Do you always eavesdrop?”

  She tried to be indignant, but it was hard when her eyes were filled with his hard, muscular torso. A light smattering of dark hair covered his chest and she longed to run her hands over him.

  “No. It was an accident,” she said. “Who’s Valerie?”

  He flinched at the mention of the name.

  Leigh thought for sure that he would brush off her question, but he ran a hand through his hair and sighed.

  Leigh deserved to know the whole story, and Cy wanted her to hear it before they got married. He motioned to her bed and sat on it, attempting to not think about what he’d like to do with her on it. Suddenly he regretted not wearing a robe even though it was hot weather.

  She perched as far from him as possible, keeping her gaze trained on his face, which was now covered with a five o’clock shadow.

  “Valerie Bradshaw was an agent I worked with. We fell in love and became intimate, which was prohibited by Pinkerton rules. Although we often posed as a married couple, we were never to step over that line. We couldn’t help ourselves, though. The attraction was too strong. We were so careful, but one of the other agents found out and squealed on us.

  “Our superiors strongly reprimanded and separated us. They sent me to New York and her to California, but we still found ways to communicate and be together whenever we could. Our separate cases happened to bring us together at the same party one night, and when it was over, we stole away together for a while.

  “The agent she was working with that night guessed where she’d been and got violent with her because he was jealous. When I found out, I lost control and almost killed him. They immediately fired me and sent me home. It would have embarrassed them if law enforcement had known that they hadn’t been able to control two of their agents, so they didn’t involve the police by having me arrested. So that’s why I’m here trying to save our ranch instead of still working as an agent,” Cy explained.

  Leigh looked over his well-developed physique and could imagine that he had the ability to mete out physical harm. However, she also sensed that he wouldn’t do so without provocation.

  “Did you see her after that?” Leigh asked.

  Cy shook his head a little. “No. She took an assignment overseas, and I’ve never attempted to find her.”

  Leigh tamped down a tide of jealousy. “Do you still love her?”

  Cy’s lips thinned before he said, “I don’t think so. My feelings for her have changed over time. But it still makes me furious that I lost something special because people couldn’t keep their nose out of our business. We weren’t hurting anyone and our relationship never got in the way of us doing excellent work.”

  “Would you get back together with her if you could?” Leigh asked.

  The apprehension in her eyes brought out Cy’s protective nature. She was worried that if they married and Valerie showed up that he would desert her. Cy took her hand.

  “Leigh, my time with Valerie is over. I’m moving on and looking to the future and that future includes you, not her. I’m marrying you and I’ll always honor that commitment. I’ve never cheated on anyone when I’ve been in a relationship, and I would never do that to you,” he said.

  His answer allayed her fears and she squeezed his hand. “I’m glad because I’m not the kind of woman who would take something like that lying down. I’ll warn you right now, if you ever did cheat on me, I’d make you real sorry that you did.”

  He brought her hand to his mouth, placing a kiss to the back of it. “Based on how hot and bothered you make me, I don’t think I’ll ever need to look elsewhere for sexual satisfaction.”

  Just like that, the fire between them ignited. Raw hunger turned her insides to liquid and Leigh couldn’t breathe for a moment. Her gaze lowered to his mouth and her blood ran hotter with her longing to kiss him. Since her husband’s death no other man but Cy had made her feel like that.

  With lighting quickness, Cy moved closer and pulled her against him. He gazed into her wide eyes for a moment before lowering his mouth to hers. Leigh’s hands splayed over his wide chest, moving over his warm skin as his lips parted and he teased hers with his tongue.

  On a moan, Leigh opened for him, winding her arms around his neck, and bringing her body in harder contact with his. Their tongues danced as Cy ran his hands up and down her back. One of her hands plowed through his hair and fisted in it. He groaned against her mouth and slid a hand around to cup her breast through her nightgown.

  Leigh jerked back, abruptly breaking the kiss, and Cy took his hand away.

  “I’m not gonna apologize for that,” he said, his voice raspy. “I better go or you’re gonna wind up flat on your back. We need to get married soon because if we don’t, I’m going to bed you with or without that piece of paper.”

  Leigh’s baser nature wanted to tell him to go ahead, but her conscience wouldn’t allow it. It might be just a piece of paper to him, but it represented commitment to her, and she wouldn’t give in to her desire without it.

  “When?” Cy pressed. “How long? Never mind. We’ll talk about it tomorrow when I’m thinking with my brain and not something else. Goodnight.”

  He left so quickly that Leigh never got a chance to utter a single syllable. She sat with her mouth open a little, staring at the door as her body still yearned for his. After several minutes, she got up and blew out her lamp. Lying down, she thought about his question.

  How long did she want to wait until they married? Why wait? He was right about his job intruding upon the situation. There was no way he could go on a honeymoon and neither could she. They both had too much work ahead of them t
o go away somewhere.

  Their wedding wouldn’t be a large affair, and Cy wasn’t the sort of man who needed a lot of frills and fanfare. The only thing she really needed for the ceremony was a nice dress and a bouquet of flowers. A simple ceremony was just fine with her since her first wedding had been lavish.

  Besides, she didn’t have the time that planning something fancy would take, and there wasn’t anyone to send invitations to. She’d written her parents about her upcoming nuptials before leaving Beckham and letters to Elizabeth and Stan to let them know that she’d safely made the trip and that she was doing fine. There was no one else she needed to contact.

  Why wait to start her life with Cyrus? Smiling in the dark, she thought that being married to him would never be boring. The man who solved mysteries was one himself and she looked forward to peeling off his layers and discovering all of his secrets. As the sound of crickets came through her open windows, Leigh drifted off, dreaming of the charismatic man who slept across the hall.

  * * *

  Carly’s younger sister, Catherine Branson, was too excited to sleep that night. She’d waited for Sly to show up even though she knew that he hadn’t planned to see her until the morning when they would announce their intentions to marry. However, she’d hoped that he would come to her. When one o’clock came, she gave up on him, but remained awake.

  Frustrated, she rose, threw on a robe and padded downstairs, heading for her father’s study for a drink of scotch in the hopes that it would help her sleep. A noise ahead of her stopped her and she realized that it was coming from the study. Sly never told her how he got in the house, so she thought that maybe he’d come to see her after all.

  “Sly?” she whispered, nearing the study. “Sly, are you in here?”

  As she stepped over the threshold into the study, someone grabbed her from behind, clamping a hand over her mouth. The hand muffled her scream as her assailant sank the blade of their knife deep into her abdomen. They pulled it out and stabbed her again, piercing her heart. Catherine’s legs buckled and she slid downward, dead before she hit the floor.

  * * *

  Cy sat in his robe out on the porch the next morning, drinking a cup of coffee as the sun breached the horizon. After leaving Leigh last night, he’d been too frustrated to sleep much. He’d ached to make long, hot love to Leigh and then fall asleep with her in his arms.

  She’d only been in his life for a week, but she’d already had a profound effect on him—and his heart. He might not love her, but he did feel an attachment to her. He desired her and liked her as a person. As far as he was concerned, that was enough for now.

  Horse hooves sounded on the lane and his stomach clenched. No one would come to visit this early unless something dire had occurred. He leaned his head back against his chair in frustration as he waited for whoever it was to arrive. His irritation increased when he recognized Brock.

  “What?” Cy asked brusquely.

  “Catherine Branson was murdered during the night,” Brock said, happy to get right to the point. “It happened in the study. No one has moved her. Loren found her about an hour ago.”

  Cy couldn’t move for several moments as he absorbed the shock. His mind immediately turned to Sly, and tears stung his eyes as his heart broke for his cousin. “Ok. I’ll get dressed and be along.”

  “I can wait,” Brock said, noticing that someone had lit a lamp in the kitchen. “You got any more coffee?”

  Cy stood up and silently motioned for Brock to follow him. Brock dismounted and trailed him into the kitchen where Daphne was gathering ingredients together for breakfast. She almost dropped the bowl of eggs she held when she saw Brock.

  “Have a seat,” Cy said. “I’ll be right back.”

  He ran quickly up the stairs.

  Brock took off his hat and nodded to her. “Morning, Daphne.”

  She resisted the urge to pat her hair to make sure it looked nice. “Morning, Brock. What brings you? Nothing pleasant, I’m sure.”

  “I wish it was something pleasant,” Brock said. “Catherine Branson was murdered last night.”

  Daphne gasped and turned white. “My God!”

  Brock reached out, grasping her shoulders when she swayed slightly. “I’m sorry, Daphne. I shouldn’t have just said it outright like that. Here, sit down.”

  He guided her to a chair and she sat down, putting a hand to her mouth. Tears formed in her eyes and she shook her head. “I don’t believe it. Why would anyone want to kill her? She was so sweet and kind. She was one of the few friends I have.”

  Brock wanted to kick himself. “I didn’t know you were close.”

  “Yes, we were, but not many people know it because it wouldn’t do for her to be seen with someone who was Comanche. She didn’t care, though. She didn’t want to hide our friendship, but I wouldn’t let her ruin her reputation. We’ve been friends since we were teenagers. Oh, poor Catherine! Poor Sly!” Daphne broke down.

  Brock knelt in front of her chair and put his arms around her. “I’m sorry, Daphne.”

  As he held her, Brock forgot her Comanche heritage. She was just a grieving woman who needed comforting. He stroked her hair, which she wore in the shorter style that most Comanche women did. It was soft against his palm and she felt good in his embrace.

  Daphne pulled back and looked into Brock’s eyes, her own swimming with tears. Brock had the urge to kiss them away, but instantly reined it in. Instead, he released her and rose, handing her his handkerchief.

  “I’m sorry for your loss, Daphne. What does Sly have to do with this?” Brock asked.

  Cy had come downstairs and heard his question. “Nothing. Our whole family was friends with Catherine. We’re upset and so will they be.” He gave Daphne a hard look. “C’mon. Time’s wasting, Brock. Like I said, I’ll be along. I’m going to talk to my family. I don’t think you want to come with me since you hate them so much. Go on to the Bransons and I’ll meet you there.”

  Brock put his hat on and nodded to Daphne. “Again, I’m sorry, Daphne.”

  She smiled tightly and nodded.

  The deputy followed Cy outside. “Hey! Who do you think you are?” he shouted to Cy, marching after him. “I don’t take orders from you, so don’t think you’re gonna start handing them out.”

  Cy turned around and walked right up to Brock. “I’m the lead investigator on this case, so, yeah, I can issue orders. So do what I’m telling you.”

  “I don’t give a crap if you’re leading the investigation. I’m not gonna take orders from some Pinkerton failure! And what was that back there?” Brock asked, pointing back at the house. “Your sister’s really upset and you barely said a word to her.”

  Cy’s nostrils flared. “What do you care? She’s just a dirty Comanche woman, not worth your time or consideration, right?”

  “That’s not fair, Cy,” Brock said.

  “No? So why is she any different? Just because she’s a woman? So it’s only Comanche men that you hate? Even the ones who never did anything to you?” Cy demanded.

  Brock squared his shoulders. “Yeah, that’s probably it. She’s not some smart mouthed, has-been detective, sent home with his tail between his legs, who thinks he’s better than the law enforcement around here. Like we need you to swoop in and solve cases as though we can’t do it ourselves!”

  “That wasn’t my doing. If I didn’t need the money so bad, I wouldn’t have taken the job. Seeing your ugly face every day isn’t my idea of a good time,” Cy shot back. “So if you wanna be mad at someone because I’m working there, be mad at Rob, not me. Now, we got a job to do. I’ll be right there as soon as I talk to my family. I don’t want them to hear it from someone else.”

  Understanding dawned on Brock. “It’s not your whole family, it’s Sly. Were he and Catherine seeing each other?”

  Cy’s eyes shifted away from Brock for a half a second, but it answered Brock’s question in the affirmative as much as “yes” would have.

  “They were,
weren’t they?” Brock said, jumping on Cy’s response. “Holy crap!”

  Cy grabbed his shirt. “Keep that to yourself. There’s no reason to tell anyone.”

  “Are you crazy? He’s a suspect,” Brock said.

  “Suspect? You’re the crazy one. He loved her and had no reason to kill her,” Cy said. “He’s not the murderer.”

  “You don’t know that,” Brock said. “Maybe they fought and he stabbed her.”

  Cy grabbed Brock’s shirt, bringing him within inches of his face. “You’re so willing to believe anything bad about anyone who has Indian heritage that you’re letting your judgment be clouded. It’s easier to blame the Indian than look for the real murderer, isn’t it?”

  Brock shoved Cy away from him. “You’re the one whose judgment is clouded. If this was any other investigation, the lover is the first one you’d look at and you know it. And if you take a hold of me like that again, I’ll take your head off.”

  Brock was right, which made Cy even angrier. “Why do you think I want to interview Sly alone? If you’re there, he’s not going to admit anything. He’ll tell me the truth. He won’t have a choice. I know him too well and I’ll know if he’s lying. So don’t accuse me of shirking my duty again.”

  Cy stomped away to the barn and Brock mounted up, kicking his horse into a canter to vent some of his anger at Cy.

  Chapter 11

  Daniel didn’t like the expression on Cy’s face when he showed up at his place that morning. That look usually meant that there was trouble.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  Cy said, “I need to talk to Sly. Is he around?”

  “Yeah. We’re eating breakfast. You hungry?” Daniel asked.

  “No. I need to talk to him,” Cy said.