On the Fence (Chance City Series Book Two)

by Robin Deeter

  Chapter Thirteen

  When they reached Sundance Ranch, Brock went inside with Daphne to warm up a little before heading back home and to see if there was any news about Cy and Cotton.

  Leigh said, “They’re not back yet. I don’t think it’ll take them long to find Maynard. I’d like a piece of him when they do, though.”

  “Me, too,” Daphne said, putting coffee on. “Johnny is holding his own. I just hope that infection doesn’t set in.”

  Leigh said, “Sounds like they’re taking good care of him. I’ll go with you tomorrow after breakfast and harass him about getting shot when we have all this work to do.”

  It hadn’t occurred to Brock that without Johnny around, the workload fell mainly to Leigh because Cy worked during the day.

  “You need to hire a ranch hand,” Brock said.

  Leigh said, “We can’t afford to pay someone a decent wage right now. We’ll be fine. Once they get back, Cotton will help me. David sent over one of their ranch hands today and said that he’d come back tomorrow, too.”

  “That’s good,” Brock said. “You know, you’ve got another bunkhouse.”

  “Yeah. I’m aware.”

  Brock rubbed his chin a little. “Maybe you could find someone who’d be willing to work for room and board and a little money for now. You could put an ad in the paper and I’d be happy to ask around for you.”

  Leigh’s eyes lit up. “That’s a great idea. I keep tellin’ Cy that you’re not as bad as he thinks you are. I’d really appreciate it.”

  “Happy to help.”

  Brock only stayed long enough to drink one cup of coffee, wanting to get home just in case the hospital called. Daphne walked him out.

  “I can’t thank you enough,” she said.

  He took her face in his hands. “Daphne, I don’t think there’s anything I wouldn’t do for you. I care about you and I’ll help you with anything you need me to.”

  Moving closer, he lowered his head, pressing his lips to hers in a kiss that quickly grew hungry. Daphne wound her arms around his neck and kissed him back, twining her tongue with his and playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. He growled as he held her tighter, and Daphne reveled in his strength.

  His mouth was hot and demanding and Daphne ached for him. She wanted him so much that she felt faint with need. She also had the mad urge to rip his clothes off and feast her eyes on him. Suddenly his hands were underneath the shawl she’d thrown on, caressing her back, creating an even hotter fire inside.

  Brazenly, she guided his hand to her breast, wanting to feel his touch. He resisted at first, but she was insistent. He groaned as he gently squeezed it. His thumb grazed her nipple and she jerked as a current of desire shot through her.

  Abruptly, Brock pulled away. “I’m sorry,” he said hoarsely.

  “What the hell are you sorry for? Why did you stop?”

  He arched an eyebrow. “You jumped.”

  “Only because it felt so good.”

  Brock grinned. “Oh. I’m glad. It sure felt good to me, too.”

  Daphne was still dazed by the passion that hummed through her body. “Take me to the barn and make love to me. We can’t in the house, but we can out there.”

  His eyebrows shot up. “What?”

  “Don’t you want to? I do.”

  She took his hand and tugged, but he didn’t move.

  Brock bit back his mirth, knowing that he’d greatly offend her if he laughed. “Honey, I want to make love to you more than you know, but I don’t want our first time to be in a barn. Besides, we’re not married.”

  Daphne forced herself to be reasonable. “I know. You’re right. I have to go to bed. Without you.”

  He wanted to kiss her again, but she warded off his hands.

  “No, no. I can’t touch you and you can’t touch me because, well, I’m not to be trusted right now. I’m too hot and bothered and you’ll only make it worse. Goodnight, Brock.”

  He sighed as she went inside the house. “You’re not the only one who’s hot and bothered.”

  It was a couple of minutes before he got into his buggy and drove away.

  *****

  Aaron Howard looked up from the book he’d been reading when the door of the sheriff’s office slammed open. A man came flying through the doorway, falling to the floor. Aaron shot to his feet as Cy and Cotton stomped into the office after him.

  Cy grabbed the man by the back of his threadbare coat and hauled him to his feet.

  “Get up, you worthless piece of shit.” Cy’s eyes blazed with rage. “This is the drunk coward who shot Johnny. Aaron, you better take him because if you don’t, I’m gonna kill him. I shoulda just done it, but—just take him.”

  Cy might not have killed him, he hadn’t treated Maynard any too kindly, Aaron saw. He took Maynard without a word to Cy, pushing him back to the cell room.

  Wheezer still sat calmly with his feet up on his desk. “You got him. Good. You ok?”

  Cy nodded. “How’s Johnny?”

  He was afraid that Wheezer was going to tell him that his cousin had died.

  “Hanging in there.” Wheezer chuckled. “I saw him this afternoon a little and he was funny as heck. Laudanum.”

  Cy blinked back tears of relief. “I’m glad to hear that. Poor kid. He just wanted to take a pretty girl out. He never did that before.” He sat down in Ellie’s chair. “Hell, I don’t think he’s even kissed a girl. If he’d have died without even doing that—”

  Wheezer pulled open a desk drawer and pulled out a bottle of bourbon. “Here, son. You’ll feel better when you get a little of that in you.”

  Cy took it and downed a couple of gulps before handing the bottle to Cotton, who took a pull from it.

  Cy said, “Maynard will need a doctor. Burt got him pretty good on the leg.”

  Wheezer grunted as he took the bourbon back from Cotton. “Good.”

  “Is it all right if I leave the dogs here? I want to go to the hospital to see Johnny. I don’t think they’d appreciate me bringing them in there,” Cy said.

  “Sure.”

  Cotton opened the door and the three pooches trotted inside, going right over to Wheezer, who pet them.

  Wheezer smiled. “So I hear that you got some cats, Cy.”

  Cy growled as he got up and marched out the door. Wheezer and Cotton laughed before he followed his nephew out into the night.

  *****

  A week later, Johnny was brought home and situated in the guest room in the main house despite his protests. He didn’t want to be a bother to them. Daphne settled the matter by telling him that it would be more of a bother if she kept having to traipse out to his bunkhouse. He’d capitulated after that.

  His wounds were healing, but he was still in a lot of pain. However, he was well enough to be bored. Used to being busy, lying in bed all day didn’t sit well with him. Everyone had work to do so they couldn’t constantly sit with him. He worked on some woodworking designs, but that just made him itch to get back out in his woodshop.

  By the time he’d been home a week, he’d become cranky. He wanted to see Dory, too, and the fact that she hadn’t come to see him made him even more irritable.

  “Johnny, she’s probably feeling guilty about what happened,” Daphne said the Saturday after he’d come home.

  “I don’t know why. She ain’t the one who shot me. It ain’t her fault.” He shifted where he sat up against the headboard.

  “I know, but you can see how she’d feel badly,” Daphne said.

  “I guess so. You wait until I’m better, though. If she won’t come to me, I’ll go to her,” he declared. “That woman ain’t seen the last of me.”

  Daphne chuckled. “I didn’t know you could be so stubborn.”

  He grinned. “I can be if I got something to be stubborn about.”

  “Do you need anything before I go downstairs?”

  “No, ma’am.”

  “Ok. Ring your bell if you need something,” Daphne
said.

  “Yes, ma’am,” Johnny said glumly.

  Daphne felt badly for leaving him, but she had laundry to wash. As she entered the kitchen, she heard a buggy pull up. Looking out the window, she blinked, thinking that she was seeing things. A handsome Standardbred horse stood outside the house, hitched to an odd looking vehicle.

  “What the heck?”

  She wrapped her shawl around her shoulders and went outside. Wheels grinned at her from inside the vehicle that looked distinctly like a chariot.

  “Wheels? What are you riding in? Is that a chariot?” she asked.

  “It sure is. Daddy and I just finished it last night and I wanted to try it out, so I thought I’d come see Johnny,” Wheels said.

  “But where’s your chair?” Daphne wasn’t bashful about asking because Wheels never shied away from anything related to his condition.

  He motioned her closer to the stylish, black chariot. “Look,” he said, pointing down.

  Daphne gazed over the side of it and laughed when she saw that Wheels sat in his chair. The chariot walls weren’t as high as a traditional chariot because he couldn’t stand, but they were solid. His chair was held in place by a leather belt-like strap on either side of the chariot.

  “I’m always amazed by what you and your father make,” she said. “I guess it worked. How does it ride?”

  “Like a dream, thanks to those bicycle tires. We just used the bigger size and put two on each side to give it more stability. See?”

  Daphne had been so focused on the rest of the vehicle that she hadn’t paid attention to the wheels. “How clever!”

  “That way, I won’t tip over if I go fast around turns,” Wheels said, unhooking the chair.

  “Oh, wait. Do you need help getting out?”

  “Nope. Watch.”

  Wheels gauged his distance and backed up until he hit the back of the chariot. He flipped up two eyehooks, releasing the back. When the wooden door fell, it formed a ramp, down which he easily rolled.

  “That’s incredible,” Daphne said.

  “I’ll take you for a ride sometime,” Wheels said.

  “I’ll take you up on that,” Daphne said. “Come on in.”

  Since there was only one step up onto the back porch, Wheels navigated it with ease, his powerful muscles propelling him up onto the level surface. Daphne held the kitchen door open for him and he rolled through.

  “He was awake when I came down just now,” Daphne said.

  “Don’t matter. I’ll get him up if he ain’t. He’ll want to see what me and Daddy came up with.”

  “Oh. Um, it’s not good for him to do the stairs a whole lot right now,” Daphne said.

  Wheels’ eyes sparkled. “No problem. Just point me in the direction of the stairs and I’ll take it from there.”

  “How can you take your chair up the stairs?”

  “I can’t.”

  Doubtful about how this was going to work, Daphne nevertheless led him to the stairs. Wheels lifted his legs from the footrests and leaned forward, bracing his arms on the stairs. The next thing Daphne knew, he was rapidly hoisting himself up them, his legs dragging behind him.

  “What are you going to do once you reach the top? You don’t have a chair.”

  “Same thing I’m doing now. Don’t worry, darlin’. I’ve got this handled,” Wheels said. “I do it all the time.”

  “Ok.”

  She followed him just in case he needed help, but he pulled himself down the hall easily.

  “Hey, dumbass! Where are you?”

  Johnny sat up a little straighter, wincing at the pain in his muscles. “Wheels? Is that you?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I’m in here.”

  Wheels followed the sound of his voice. “There you are.”

  Johnny smiled. “Slithering around again, huh? Your nickname should be slither instead of Wheels.”

  “Shut up or I won’t show you the schematics we came up with.”

  Daphne was amazed by the way Wheels pulled himself up into Johnny’s bedside chair. If one didn’t know any better, they would never know that he was paralyzed from the waist down. When not in his wheelchair, he looked just like any other man.

  Wheels smiled at her. “Thanks for looking out for me, but I’m all right. You owe me, though.”

  “What for?”

  His smiled broadened. “I just dusted your floor for you.”

  Daphne and Johnny laughed, the latter holding his chest as he did.

  “You’re terrible,” Daphne said.

  “No, I’m not. You gotta find the humor wherever you can.”

  Shaking her head, she said, “I’ll leave you men to your … whatever it is that you’re doing.”

  They made sure that she’d gone downstairs before Wheels pulled a thick packet of papers from his inside coat pocket. They pored over the drawings and the list of equipment and supplies they would need to build Johnny’s next special project.

  “Do you think we can get it done in time for Christmas?” Johnny asked.

  Wheels ran a hand through his dark hair. “I think so, especially if you get your rear out of this bed. You need to start walking around a little every day. Staying still for too long will make your other muscles weak. I know that from experience.”

  Johnny said, “That’s what I keep telling Daphne, but she’s scared that I’ll reopen my wounds.”

  Wheels said, “Then you have to prove her—and everyone else—wrong. Nobody thought that I’d ever do even half the stuff I do. I showed them that even though my legs might not work that I’ve still got my arms and upper body to work with. The most important thing I have to work with though is my brain. If I put my mind to it enough, I’ll figure out a way to do something. Speaking of which, you need to come over when you get feeling better. I have something to show you.”

  “What is it?”

  Wheels broke into a grin. “I figured out a way to walk.”

  “What? You can’t walk,” Johnny said. “You just said your legs don’t work.”

  Wheels tapped his temple. “Like I said, my brain and upper body. Well, I better get back to help Daddy, but I’ll see you in a couple of days. In the meantime, work on getting your strength back.”

  “Ok,” Johnny said. “See ya then.”

  Wheels made his way down the stairs and pulled himself into his chair. “I’ll be seeing you, Daphne. Always a pleasure.”

  She’d been plucking a chicken for supper. “All right. It’s always good to see you, too. I’ll get the door for you.”

  “That’s ok. I got it. Let’s do this from now on: unless I ask you to do something, don’t worry about trying to help me,” Wheels said. “That’s what we do at home. It might take me a little bit to get it done, but I’m stubborn and rarely give up.”

  Daphne nodded. “All right.”

  “So I understand that things are going well with you and Brock.”

  She blushed. “Yes, they are, thank you.”

  “About time he woke up and realized what a wonderful gal you are. I’m happy for you,” Wheels said.

  “Thanks.”

  He opened the door and backed up to get around it. “All right. Have a good day, sweetheart.”

  “You, too.”

  She closed the door behind him and then watched him bounce off the porch and roll over to his chariot. He pulled himself up into it and in a few moments, he drove away.

  “Amazing,” she muttered to herself and went back to plucking the chicken.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Cy looked up from his drawing when Brock came into his office.

  “What?” This was how he often greeted Brock.

  Brock sat down. “Come up with any new theories yet?”

  They’d been working on solving a rash of cat burglaries.

  “Nope. You?”

  “Nope. These guys are professionals and it’s gonna be hard to nab them.”

  Cy grunted in agreement. “You wanna come home for suppe
r? Daphne’s making a chicken. At least that’s what she said this morning.”

  Brock was taken aback by his offer. “Did you just invite me to supper or did I imagine it?”

  “Yeah, I invited you. Look, you make Daphne happy, so I figure that we should maybe try to get along better,” Cy said. “We’ve been doing better lately, so that’s encouraging.”

  Brock smiled. “We haven’t smacked the crap out of each other for a while, so I’d call that an improvement. You also haven’t been acting like a conceited jackass, so that might have something to do with it.”

  “Likewise. So what about supper?”

  “I’ll take you up on the offer.”

  Cy said, “Good.”

  Pudge jumped up on Brock’s lap and the deputy said, “Let’s go over everything again, just in case something jumps out at us.”

  Cy admired Brock’s investigative skills and he was secretly happy that it seemed as though the barrier between them had been tentatively breached. It also made him glad that they shared the same dogged determination to solve a crime.

  “Ok. Let’s start at the beginning,” Cy agreed.

  *****

  Ellie had just put on a pot of coffee when Walt came into the office.

  “Hi,” she said, smiling. “Are you here to see Toby again?”

  “Aye. I’ve finally convinced Reese to release him to me. He knows nothin’ about his former associates’ whereabouts, nor did he commit any crimes. So I’d be grateful if ye’d let him out.”

  Ellie took the sheaf of papers he handed to her, surprised by his fierce attitude. She wasn’t used to seeing him like that. She looked over the papers and found everything in order.

  “All right,” Ellie said. “Are you upset with me?”

  He arched an eyebrow at her. “What makes ya ask?”

  She fingered the papers nervously. “Well, you haven’t asked me to dinner lately.”

  “Ah, I see. I’ve wanted to, but you don’t seem to enjoy my company very much,” Walt said. The spider shall draw the fly into his web.