The McCoy Brothers Boxed Set

by Callie Hutton

  A large man stood with his back to him, his hand gripping Calliope’s arm. He was paunchy, and his trousers and vest were covered with mud. She winced in pain as he shook her, and rage rushed through him like a steam engine.

  “Get your filthy hands the hell off my wife.”

  Calliope slumped with relief. She should have known Rupert would have heard she’d returned and race right over here to confront her. It had been foolish of her not to lock the door since he’d always felt he had the right to just stroll in anytime he wanted. She’d never been so happy to see Stephen than she was at this moment.

  He stood with his feet apart, hands resting on his hips, his hat pushed back and jaw tightened with anger. His eyes flashed and she almost felt sorry for Rupert. He swung around to face Stephen, still gripping her arm.

  “I told you to get your hands off my wife, and I don’t intend to have to say it again.” Stephen’s soft words were deadly.

  The big idiot scowled. “Who the hell are you?”

  Stephen strolled up to the man, toe-to-toe. “I’m her husband. Now release her and step back, I’m losing patience.”

  “Oh yeah? Well I say she’s lying and you ain’t no husband. I don’t know who you are, but I suggest you leave us alone and go back to the rock you crawled out from under. This is my woman.”

  With a look of disgust on his face, Stephen pulled his arm back and plowed his fist into the man’s chin. His head snapped back, and Stephen drove his fist into Rupert’s soft middle. He released Calliope and went down like a sack of potatoes. He shook his head, then jumped up and came at Stephen.

  “Haven’t had enough?” It took only a few more blows to Melrose before he was lying flat on his back on the kitchen floor, blood dripping from his nose. Without a comment, Stephen picked up Rupert’s feet and dragged him out of the kitchen, down the hallway and out the front door, where he deposited him on the porch.

  After closing and locking the door, he brushed his hands off and strolled back into the kitchen. “What’s for supper?”

  Calliope stood across the room from him, tears brimming her eyes and rubbing her arm where Melrose had grabbed her. She stared at him, taking deep breaths and chewing her lip.

  “Come here, sweetheart,” he said softly as he crooked his finger at her.

  She hurried across the room and threw herself into his arms. “Thank God you came home when you did.”

  He brushed back the hair from her cheeks and stared at her upturned face. “I’m sorry he even got as far as he did. I never should have left you alone until this was settled.”

  “When I told him I was married he called me a liar and threatened to kill you and marry me anyway. You have to be careful. He’s dangerous.”

  He grinned. “Honey, it will take more than a few threats from that windbag to worry me. Don’t trouble yourself. Tomorrow I’ll make a visit to his farm and get a few things straightened out. But right now I want you to calm down and not worry. Let me do the worrying in this family.”

  She burrowed her head in his chest, the steady beat of his heart calming her. He tightened his arms around her and kissed the top of her head. She’d never concerned herself with the leering looks Rupert had tossed her way the last few years, since she’d always felt protected by her father. Her neighbor was a man who took what he wanted, and he’d just proved he would take what he wanted by force if necessary.

  And he wanted her.

  But Papa also controlled her life. He made the decisions and he ran the farm. Yet he left the farm to her, so he must have trusted her judgment.

  Hadn’t he? Or had he actually promised Rupert she would marry him? She shuddered thinking of Rupert with his hands on her body. Stephen rubbed her back. “Come. I’ll fetch you a small drink.”

  She shook her head. “We don’t keep sprits in the house.”

  “I brought some with me. I like a drink once in a while, and I believe you could use one now.” He turned his regard to Bertha who stood watching the entire episode play out. “How long until supper?”

  She broke into a huge grin. “Mr. McCoy, I like the way you took care of that Mr. Melrose.” She waved a cooking spoon at him. “He is a mean one, though, so if I were you I’d watch my back.”

  “Thanks for the warning, I will be careful.”

  “Supper in about a half hour,” Bertha said as she turned to stir something bubbling on the top of the stove.

  He grabbed two glasses from the shelf over the table and took Calliope by the hand to lead her to the parlor. He dug around his saddle bags he’d dropped on the floor near the sofa when they had arrived earlier today. After a few minutes of scrounging around, he pulled out a bottle of whiskey.

  “I don’t know if I should have any of that.” She eyed it suspiciously. “Papa said women didn’t imbibe spirits.”

  “Your papa was correct. However, there are times when a little bit settles the nerves.” He poured about two fingers into a glass and handed it to her. “Drink up.”

  She took a sip of the vile tasting stuff, then quickly swallowed it all in one gulp, losing her breath as it slid down her throat and burned its way to her stomach. She began to cough, trying desperately to suck some air into her lungs.

  Stephen sat alongside her on the sofa and rubbed her back. “You probably shouldn’t have swallowed it all at once.”

  “Now you tell me.” She gasped the words out, tears running down her face.

  He raised his own glass. “See it’s to be savored.” He took a gentle sip and smiled at her.

  She hadn’t noticed how nice his smile was. Well, maybe she had, but hadn’t really spent much time thinking about it. The warmth from the whiskey was settling into her, reaching her fingertips and toes, making her bones feel softer. Stephen was a good looking man. She studied his face, the full lips, his shuttered eyes, and strange things happened to her stomach. Little butterflies took up residence.

  “What?” His lips tilted up in a slight smile.

  She reached up and touched her finger to his lips. So soft, so warm. “You never kissed me.”

  His body stiffened, and his mirthful look changed into something else. Something dark and mysterious. The butterflies in her stomach did a jig, and her heartbeat sped up. Most likely the result of the whiskey, which was making her feel soft inside, and happy.

  Stephen placed his glass on the table in front of the sofa and turned to her. “Not for a lack of interest, I can assure you.” He cupped her face in his strong hands, and her eyes drifted closed as his head descended. His lips were just as warm and soft as she’d imagined. He nibbled slightly, then soothed with a gentle kiss. She let out with a slight moan and he placed his hand on the back of her head, the other hand on her waist and drew her close. So close she could feel her breasts flattened against his hard chest.

  Oh my. This kissing business was very, very nice. He shifted his head and slid his tongue along the seam of her lips. She opened her mouth and he swooped in, tangling with her tongue, skimming the inside of her mouth. The butterflies came to an abrupt halt, then moved into a country reel.

  She whimpered when he released her, then placed those wonderful lips on her neck, jaw, nose, eyes. Of their own will, her hands moved up to his head, her fingers tangling in the curls. The whiskey had certainly warmed her up, and all of a sudden she wanted her clothes gone. They were too restrictive.

  “So beautiful,” Stephen murmured as he nibbled on her ear lobe, then took her mouth once again in a searing kiss. Slowly his hand wandered up her body until he cupped her breast in his hand. His thumb slid over her nipple, causing it to ache, a strong pull going from there to her woman’s place between her legs.

  “Let’s skip supper and retire early.” His whispered words in her ear had goose bumps popping out all over her body. Yes, retire early. That would be perfect. Her head still spun from his kisses and the whiskey. She pulled back and stared into his eyes.

  “Supper’s ready.” Bertha stood at the doorway. Stephen and Calliope sp
rung apart like children caught with their hand in the cookie jar.

  Taking a deep breath, Calliope stood on shaky legs and smoothed her skirt. “Thank you Bertha, we’ll be right there.” She fussed with her hair and glance at Stephen, who sat with his head in his hands. “Are you coming?”

  He groaned and looked up at her, his face flushed. “Apparently not.”

  She tilted her head in question. “What?”

  “Never mind. Yes, I will be there in a minute. I just want to finish my drink.”

  Calliope spun on her heel and left the room, the butterflies at rest, and her legs growing stronger. She took her place at the table and inhaled deeply.

  5

  Three days later Stephen placed a blanket and picnic basket in the back of the wagon, then leaned against it, arms crossed, waiting for Calliope. They were headed to church, to be followed by a church picnic. He’d gone to a number of these when he’d been a child, and when he lived with his brother’s family for the past two years. This would be the first time he attended services and a picnic in Calliope’s church.

  He pushed away from the wagon and smiled as his wife hurried out the door. She wore a pink and white gingham dress, with a while shawl, and something fancy on her head that he was sure she called a hat. Pulling on white gloves as she neared him, she said, “We need to hurry. Service starts in a little more than a half hour.”

  “You look pretty.”

  She came to an abrupt halt and stared at him. “Oh. Thank you.” Then a slow flush crawled up her face from her neck.

  Unable to help himself, he drew her into his arms and gave her a kiss. Nothing like the kiss he’d given her three days ago when she’d been feeling the results of the whiskey. But, all the same, it was a definite joining of lips. He attempted to have her open for him, but she pulled back. “We better leave or we’ll be late for church.”

  He felt a certain amount of satisfaction at the breathlessness in her voice. Despite her initial insistence that theirs was to be a marriage in name only, he was confident he had the ability to someday soon have her in his bed for activities other than just sleeping.

  “Does Melrose generally attend church?” Once Stephen lifted Calliope into the wagon, he climbed into the other side and started off toward the church.

  “Yes. I’m sure he’ll be there today.”

  “Good. I’ve gone to his farm twice in the past three days and he’s always not at home, out in the field. I intend to have a talk with him today.”

  Calliope laid her had on his arm. “No fighting?”

  “Not unless he starts one. I want to lay down the law. He is not to come near you unless I’m standing right beside you.” He covered her hand with his. “You wanted a husband to chase him away. I fully intend to do that.”

  “I don’t think Reverend Michaels would appreciate a brawl breaking out at the picnic.” She tried to remove her hand from his arm, but he held fast.

  “Remember, I’m the one who does the worrying. I want you to enjoy the day. You work hard. You need time to relax.”

  The short ride to the church got them there well before the service started. Stephen regretted not taking more time for kissing.

  A quick scan of the congregation as they arrived confirmed Melrose attended church. The man sat two pews from the back and glared at them when they’d passed by. Stephen grinned and took note of his bruised chin and nose. Perhaps church was not the best place to relish the man’s injuries, but he’d pray a little harder during the service.

  The church filled up quickly and soon Calliope was flush against him, shoulder to shoulder. He and Calliope shared a hymnal and he was pleased when he took her hand during the sermon and she didn’t pull away. Baby steps.

  The sermon was neither too long nor too short, and soon they found themselves in the queue to greet the pastor. He’d also noticed several glances in their direction, and two older ladies whispered behind their hands to each other.

  Calliope held Stephen’s arm and smiled at the preacher. “Reverend, I would like you to meet my husband, Mr. Stephen McCoy. Stephen, this is Reverend Michaels.”

  “Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you, young man. We had all thought it was time our Calliope took a husband. Especially since her Pa passed away.” The man’s booming voice carried over the crowd so that those who hadn’t noticed them before now looked their way. More raised eyebrows and murmuring.

  “I’m pleased to meet you as well, Reverend. I enjoyed the service.” Stephen shook the man’s hand, which was a strong as his voice. They moved away, and down the steps of the church.

  “Can you get the basket from the wagon? And bring it over to those tables.” Calliope waved in the direction of a collection of long tables that had been set up under a grouping of trees. “I’ll help the other women set up.”

  Stephen strolled to the wagon and retrieved the basket Bertha had packed for them. He could already smell the chicken, biscuits and apple pie. He hadn’t realized he was hungry until that moment.

  Calliope was apparently well known to the people of Sterling. She was having a lively conversation with a number of women who were emptying baskets as fast as the men laid them on the table. He added theirs to the assortment of baskets, buckets, and burlap bags.

  Once again Calliope took him by the arm and introduced him to the ladies. An older woman she had introduced as Mrs. Martindale held out her hand and actually tittered. “So you are the man who stole our Calliope’s heart.”

  Stolen her heart? No. He was more than happy to make a good marriage, and eventually have Calliope as his wife in all ways, but he had no intentions of losing his heart, or claiming hers. He’d already had enough of that. A man’s heart couldn’t break if it wasn’t at risk. And he’d found loving someone too much of a risk for him.

  He merely smiled at the woman and murmured something that he hope sounded intelligent and vague. He took a quick glance at Calliope to see her fussing with a basket, a slight blush on her cheeks.

  “We were all surprised since Mr. Melrose had us believing he was to marry her.” Another woman, tall and very thin with pinched lips studied him from behind her spectacles.

  Stephen glanced at Calliope to see if she was going to answer. “I never promised to marry Mr. Melrose.” She tilted her cute little chin up. “I’m sorry he told you all that.”

  He was proud of her strong response. She might need his protection against the man’s bullying, but she had no problem standing up for herself with these ladies. Truthfully, he found ladies with their gossip and mean slights to be harder to deal with than fisticuffs with another man.

  “Well, we’re all just glad you’re happy, dear.” Mrs. Martindale patted her hand. “Why don’t you take your new husband around and introduce him to the others until we’re all set up here?”

  They strolled arm-in-arm, Calliope making the introductions. She was well-respected and liked by the community. One or two others raised their eyebrows at her having a husband, but no one else mentioned Melrose. Stephen kept watch over the crowd, and eventually caught sight of the man standing with a group of men who looked as shifty as him.

  Eventually they made their way over to the circle of men standing with Melrose. When Calliope noticed who was in the group, she attempted to turn him in another direction. He was having none of it, and kept her on the path headed to the men.

  “You can’t avoid him forever.” He murmured into her ear as they got closer.

  Melrose scowled as they approached. “Look who’s here. The bride thief.” He grinned at him, and leered at Calliope, which set Stephen’s blood to boiling. He gripped Calliope’s hand when he felt her stiffen against him. “Melrose.” He nodded in the man’s direction.

  Perhaps sensing the tension between the two men, once Calliope introduced him, the other men drifted away, leaving Melrose, Stephen and Calliope facing each other. “Don’t think you’re gonna get away with this, McCoy.” Melrose spat on the ground.

  “I have no idea what you�
��re talking about.” Stephen managed to keep his voice steady, even though he wanted nothing more than to throttle the man.

  “I know this marriage thing is a fake. She never mentioned you in all the time I’ve known her, then all of a sudden you two are married. Don’t sit well with me, and I intend to find out what the hell is going on with you and my woman.”

  “Since we’re standing on the church grounds, I’ll be a gentlemen as I promised my wife. But I would like to remind you that Mrs. McCoy is not ‘your woman’ and you are to stay clear of her. Is that understood? You are not welcomed at our house and I don’t expect to ever come home and find you there.” He began to walk Calliope away when he stopped and turned back to Melrose.

  “I’m curious about one thing.”

  Melrose frowned at him. “What’s that, McCoy?”

  “I’d like to know why the creek on our side of the fence is dry with all the rain we’ve had. My man and I intend to investigate. We just want to be sure no one has done any damming of the creek on the other side of the fence.” With that they strolled away.

  Once they were out of earshot of Rupert, Calliope yanked her arm from Stephen’s and turned to him. “Your man? Damming up the creek? Did you mean my creek?”

  Stephen regarded her with raised eyebrows. Oh, how dare the man look surprised. She’d told him at the very beginning that this was her farm, and she would make all the decisions.

  “Why is it I didn’t know anything about the creek being dammed up?”

  He shrugged, making her even angrier. “John and I only saw it the other day. I guess I forgot to mention it to you.”

  “Forgot? It’s my farm. I need to know everything that goes on there. And since when did John become your man?”

  “Whoa, settle down, honey.”

  She gritted her teeth. “Don’t honey me.”

  Stephen looked around at the curious faces watching their exchange, and took her by the arm again. “Let’s discuss this somewhere else. Preferably at home.”