by Robin Deeter
“Good. What’s your name?” he asked the remaining criminal.
“Toby Perkins, sir.”
His voice wasn’t the mature voice of a man. Brock hadn’t been able to tell in the dark, but it sounded as though Toby was a teenager.
“How old are you, son?” he asked.
“Sixteen.”
“What are you doing with that bunch?” Brock asked. “Never mind. There’ll be time enough for explanations back at the jail. Daphne, keep your gun on him while I get the other guy in the buggy.”
“He’s just a boy,” Daphne said.
Brock said, “A boy who was with a gang of men who were up to no good. He makes a false move, you shoot him.”
Daphne didn’t like it, but Brock was right. Toby might be a boy, but he’d been involved in something very adult. She had no way to know if he could be trusted.
“Ok. I will,” she said firmly.
Toby stood very still while Brock put the deceased man in the buggy.
“All right,” Brock said. “I got him, Daphne. I’ll ride alongside the buggy. Let’s go.”
Daphne got in the buggy, doing the best she could to ignore the dead man beside her. He smelled of sweat, dirt, and blood. Picking up the reins, she clucked to the horse and put it into a trot, wanting to get to the office as quickly as possible.
“All right, Toby. Get a move on,” Brock said after he’d mounted. “Behave yourself. I’ve already killed one man tonight. I’ve got no problem killing another. Understand?”
Toby nodded. “Yes, sir.”
Then he turned around and started jogging by the buggy horse with Brock following close behind.
Chapter Six
One of the night deputies, Wheezer, sat with Daphne while Brock and the other night deputy, Aaron, took care of getting the deceased goon to the undertaker’s.
Wheezer’s heart went out to Daphne. She wasn’t used to being involved in dangerous situations. He admired the way she’d handled herself. Even though she’d been scared, she’d still had the presence of mind to help Brock get them out of trouble. She was still being brave. Even though she was pale under her slightly bronze skin tone, she sat straight in her chair, her eyes dry as she sipped coffee.
The older, colored man said, “When Brock’s done, he’ll get you home safe. I’ll have Aaron ride with you just to make sure everything’s all right, but those other two are most likely long gone. They’ll need to see a doctor.”
Daphne gave him a small smile. “Thank you.”
“You want some more coffee?” Wheezer asked kindly.
“No,” Daphne said. “Wheezer do you ever hate who you are?”
Wheezer gave her a quizzical look. “What do you mean?”
“Do you ever hate being black? Sometimes I hate being part Comanche because of the way people think about us. I know that sounds terrible, but it’s true. Those men came after us tonight because they wanted me,” Daphne said. “Why are white men so fascinated by Indian women? Why do they think that they can just take what they want from us and that we’ll like it?”
Wheezer sighed. He had no easy answer for her. “Near as I can tell, people of different races either seem to be real interested in people of another one, and not for good reasons a lot of the time. I don’t hate being colored. The good Lord made me this way for a reason, same as he made you part Comanche for a reason.”
Daphne put her coffee cup on Wheezer’s desk. “And what reason is that?”
“We’re strong people, Daphne, and we can show other people, not just whites, that we’re good and decent. We can show them that we don’t deserve to be made slaves or that we’re bloodthirsty savages. We’re human, just the same as they are. That’s what we’re here for, honey,” he said. “So no matter what other people say about us or do to us, we gotta show them that we’re not gonna let that stop us from livin’ our lives.” He chuckled. “I think you showed those men that you weren’t just gonna let them do what they wanted to.”
“I guess so,” she said, trying to stop the trembling in her hands by clasping them together in her lap. “I’ve never shot anyone before. I know that he wanted to hurt me, but I still feel guilty.”
Wheezer grunted. “I don’t like shooting people, either, but sometimes there’s just no way around it. I felt the same way the first time I shot a fella, so I understand. I hope you never have to do it again, but you don’t have anything to feel guilty about.”
Daphne nodded and fell silent.
Brock and Aaron came back.
“C’mon, Daphne, I’ll take you home,” Brock said.
She rose stiffly.
“You should take Aaron with you,” Wheezer said. “I can handle things here.”
Brock said, “We’ll be fine. There won’t be any more trouble.”
Aaron, a man somewhere in his thirties, said, “You better hope not. Cy will skin you alive if anything happens to her.”
Brock said, “I’m not afraid of Cy. C’mon, Daphne.”
He put an arm around her and led her outside. The weather had deteriorated rapidly. Icy pellets bounced off every surface and had whitened the road. Traveling out to the Decker ranch wouldn’t be a good idea.
“Daphne, how about you stay with Ellie tonight? If we try to get to your ranch tonight, we’ll be soaked the skin. The road won’t be safe, either,” Brock said.
Daphne said, “I think you’re right. I could just stay at the hotel. No need to bother Ellie.”
Brock said, “She won’t mind. Knowing that you’re not alone will make me feel better, too.”
Daphne didn’t relish being alone, so she gave in. “All right, if you’re sure she won’t mind.”
“She won’t. I promise,” Brock said.
Daphne let Brock put her in the buggy. As they drove to Ellie’s house, Daphne kept her tears inside, not wanting to appear weak. When they arrived at Ellie’s, Brock helped her up onto the porch since the footing had grown slippery by then.
“I’m sorry,” Daphne said.
Brock stopped the hand he’d about to knock on the door with in midair. “What about?”
“For our evening being ruined,” she said. “Everything was so wonderful until they showed up.”
Putting a hand on her shoulder, Brock said, “It’s not your fault, Daphne. You didn’t cause the situation.”
“Yes, I did. It’s because of who I am, what I am. People hate us because of our heritage. We’re just filthy Indians and people think they can treat us like dirt, like we don’t deserve respect,” Daphne said.
The stress of the evening was getting to her and she couldn’t contain her feelings anymore.
Splotches of color appeared on Brock’s face as shame burned in his stomach. How many times had he said such things about Indians? How often had he said that Indians were little better than animals and that the world would be a better place without them? Too many to count.
But he didn’t feel that way about Daphne. She was a good, beautiful woman, who just happened to be part Comanche. She’d never done anything bad to anyone and she hadn’t deserved to be treated with disrespect or hate. As he stared down into her tear-brightened eyes, Brock felt a shift in his heart.
Pulling her against him, Brock stroked a hand down over her sleet-dampened hair. “You didn’t deserve what happened tonight and you’ve never deserved all of the cruelty you’ve had to face. You’re a special woman, Daphne.”
Daphne leaned against him, letting him comfort her. She closed her eyes and let out her sorrow in quiet sobs. Brock held her tighter and kissed her forehead.
“Shh, it’s ok, Daphne. You’re safe now. Everything will be all right,” he murmured.
Daphne swallowed another sob and regained control of her emotions. She pushed away from him, wiping away her tears with her gloves. “No, it won’t. I can’t see you anymore, Brock. This will keep happening and given how you feel about Indians, you’ll get tired of dealing with it.”
“Daphne, I know what happened was b
ad, but it doesn’t have anything to do with things between you and me,” Brock said. “I thought we settled the whole Comanche thing.”
“That was before four men came after us because they wanted to rape a Comanche woman!” Daphne’s voice rose. “It won’t be the only time something like this comes up, Brock.”
Brock’s expression tightened. “I’m not gonna let anyone interfere in our relationship, Daphne. It’s just getting started and I don’t want to stop seeing you. Don’t you let anyone come between us, either. We waited too long to just give up because of some dumbasses. Besides, we showed them that they’d better not mess with us. I killed one, shot another, and you shot one. I didn’t know you carried a gun and could shoot.”
A smile played around her lips. “I can shoot, but not all that well.”
“Looked to me like you can shoot pretty good.”
Daphne’s smile grew. “I was aiming for his head.”
Brock grinned and then laughed. “Well, just aim for his leg the next time and you’ll probably get his head.”
A fit of giggles overcame Daphne then, another release of the strain she’d been under. Brock hugged her again and they laughed together. The front door opened and Ellie, brandishing a revolver, confronted them. She’d heard their voices because her bedroom was right above the kitchen.
“Brock? Daphne?” she queried. “What’s wrong?”
“Daphne needs to stay here tonight. We’ll explain,” Brock said.
“C’mon in out of the cold,” Ellie said, standing back to give them room to pass by her.
Once they were inside, Ellie shut and locked the door, and led them to her kitchen.
“Have a seat. I’ll get some coffee going and you can tell me what’s going on,” Ellie said.
Brock took Daphne’s wrap from her and hung it on a hook by the kitchen door. He was a regular guest at Ellie’s and he knew where things were kept. Then he hung up his own coat and sat at the table with Daphne.
She looked around Ellie’s little kitchen, liking the pretty floral curtains and noting how clean Ellie kept things. Colorful braided rugs covered the floor under the table and chairs and the space in front of the sink. Ellie finished making the coffee and sat down in an empty chair.
“Ok, now what happened?”
They explained the situation to Ellie and she grew angry.
When they finished, Ellie patted Daphne’s arm. “My kind of woman. Don’t take no shit from anyone. They all got what they deserved.”
Brock hid a smile over Daphne’s surprised expression. “You have to remember that Ellie’s a deputy, Daphne. We’re used to shooting people and Ellie sort of likes it.”
Ellie nodded. “If they deserve it, I sure do. They had no business coming after you like that. Men like that only understand one thing; violence. Unfortunately, it’s the only thing that gets through to them. Especially where women are concerned. Women can’t be too careful and having a gun on you was a good idea, Daphne. Keep carrying it.”
Daphne said, “Pa always insisted that Ma and I carry one, even if it was just a little derringer. Cy bought me my revolver when he came home after he was fired. I never had to use it before.”
Ellie patted her arm again. “I hope you never have to again, but at least you know that you can do it.”
Brock finished his coffee and winked at Daphne. “I think she needs some target practice, though. She meant to take off the guy’s head but shot a hole in his leg instead.”
Ellie tried not to laugh but lost the battle. Daphne and Brock laughed, too, and Daphne finally understood why gallows humor helped. Finding something funny about death and carnage helped ease the emotional toll on a person. It wasn’t right in a way, but sometimes it kept military and law enforcement staff sane. Daphne also found that there was something life affirming in laughing in the face of death or danger.
Brock stood up and stretched. “Daphne, you’re in good hands. I’ll take you home in the morning. Try to get some rest.”
Ellie said, “You could sleep on the sofa, Brock. It’s terrible out there.”
Brock said, “Nah. I gotta get the horse home. Old Dewey is out there in this. I put his blanket on, but still. I’ll be back in the morning.”
Ellie and Daphne rose as well.
Ellie said, “I’ll be in the parlor, Daphne.”
Brock silently thanked Ellie for her discretion. Before Daphne could protest, he wrapped his arms around her and pressed his lips to hers. After a moment’s resistance, Daphne relaxed, leaning into him while she slid her arms around his neck. She opened her mouth and Brock’s tongue delved inside to dance with hers. She couldn’t get close enough to him and pressed harder against his chest. Then she remembered where they were and broke away from Brock. His gaze held hers, desire in his sky blue eyes.
“You listen to me, Daphne. Nothing or no one is gonna keep me from you,” he said in a low, throaty voice. “You hear me? So you just get that idea of not seeing me out of your mind. I’m not taking no for an answer.”
It was hard to answer him for the tide of passion flowing through her body. She nodded a little. “All right.”
He pressed a quick kiss to her mouth. “I’ll be back in a few hours.”
She nodded again and he went out the door. After a few moments, Daphne regained her wits and walked into the parlor. Ellie sat on the sofa.
“All squared away?” she asked.
“Yes,” Daphne answered.
“I’ll show you the guest room. It’s small, but comfortable,” Ellie said, leading her upstairs.
Daphne yawned as exhaustion set in. “I’m sure it’s very nice.”
Ellie went into the room and lit a candle on a small bedside table. “Well, it ain’t much, but it’s cozy.”
She moved out so that Daphne could get in. When Ellie had said that it was small, she hadn’t been kidding, Daphne saw. The room was just big enough for a small bed, nightstand, and a little chest of drawers, which stood behind the door, preventing it from opening all the way.
“We call this the Tiny Room,” Ellie said.
Daphne said, “I can see why. We?”
“Me and the boys. Rob named it that after he stayed over after poker one night,” Ellie said.
Daphne’s eyebrows rose. “Rob spent the night?”
Ellie laughed. “We play poker a couple times a week and every so often, one of the fellas gets too drunk to make it home. They stay in here.”
“But you’re not married. You’re here alone with them?”
“Yep. But, see, they know better to try anything funny, not that any of them would, anyway. I keep my gun right by my bed and when I aim for someone’s head, I hit it. I’ll be right back with a nightgown for you.”
With that, Ellie left her, going down the hall to her own room. Daphne shut the door and took off her dress. Ellie knocked on the door and Daphne opened it.
“Here you go,” she said.
“Thank you for everything, Ellie,” Daphne said.
“You’re welcome,” Ellie said. “Sleep well.”
She withdrew from the room. Daphne changed, pulled the bedcovers down, and slipped into the little bed. The little room seemed to have a loving atmosphere and Daphne did indeed feel cozy as she grew warm. She blew out the candle on the nightstand and was soon asleep.
Chapter Seven
“C’mon in, Cy,” Brock called out when someone pounded on his front door.
It opened and slammed shut.
“Where’s my sister?” Cy demanded, striding into the kitchen.
“At Ellie’s,” Brock said. “Sit down and I’ll tell you why.”
“I’ll stand,” Cy said. “Why is she at Ellie’s?”
“I take it you didn’t stop by the office,” Brock said.
Cy cocked his head.
Brock told Cy the story and the dark fire in Cy’s eyes made Brock a little uneasy. Even when he and Brock had argued and come to blows, he’d never seen the expression of pure fury that settled on
Cy’s face.
“So I took her to Ellie’s for the night and now I’ll take her home. I was just about ready to leave when you showed up,” Brock said.
“I’ll take her home,” Cy said.
Brock said, “No. I told her I’d be back for her, so I’m gonna take her just like I planned.”
“I was afraid of something like this happening,” Cy said. “People aren’t going to accept the two of you.”
“Because I’m white?”
“Because everyone knows that you hate Indians,” Cy said. “Now all of a sudden you’re out with an Indian woman? That’s gonna draw all kinds of attention, Brock.”
“I understand—”
“No, you don’t!” Cy interjected. “You have no idea what we go through! The way people have always looked at us. How many times I had to defend Daphne at school. How many times we’ve been called filthy Injuns. Been spit on, beaten up, or shunned because of the blood that runs through our veins. You’ve had an easy life, Brock. Your grandfather may have been murdered by Comanche, but other than that, you’ve had everything that anyone could want.”
The images of Daphne enduring that kind of abuse as a little girl horrified him. No child deserved that, but especially a young girl. Brock would kill anyone who treated his siblings or children that way. Cy’s anger was well founded, and Brock didn’t make light of it.
“You’re right, Cy. I don’t know what any of that is like, but last night I got a tiny taste of what she’s been through—what you’ve all had to deal with,” Brock said. “Over the last couple of months, I’ve been doing a lot thinking about some of the things she said to me the day you found us at work.”
Cy shifted on his feet slightly and raised an eyebrow. Brock almost laughed. Like Leigh, he was learning how to read Cy’s body language. The detective wanted him to continue.
“I’ve always prided myself on being intelligent and using common sense, but when I really got thinking about the situation, I saw that I’ve been letting emotion cloud my judgment for a long time. Other than being a pain in my ass, you’ve never done anything bad to me or to anyone around here.