Chapter 18

Cy looked out the window of the Dog House, but he wasn’t focused on the scenery 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 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 move out. She’s too used to running a household.”

“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. “Okay, 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.

“Sure. Leigh and I want to design a house together.”

“I can understand that,” Brock said.

“We won’t be able to build until spring since we’ll need to dig a cellar and lay the foundation.”

Brock said, “Right, but I’m not waiting until April to marry her.”

They frowned at each other.

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.”

“Okay. I’m hungry. Let’s 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.

“Shut up before I take the invite back. Let’s go.”

“Yeah. Better get something in your stomach. 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 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. Surprises drove her crazy and brought out her 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 treasure hunters.”

“Why am I not surprised?” Brock laughed. “He really was born to solve mysteries. 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. 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?”

“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.”

Brock held back the tipi flap for her and took off his hat before ducking in behind her. A fire burned in the center of the tipi. Over it hung a soup 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 lowered himself down, his movements a trifle awkward.

“I’ve been doing it since I was a kid, so I’ve had a lot of practice.”

Brock smiled as he lifted 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 and convinced 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 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 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 are great at exacting revenge.”

His grin made her heart skip a couple of beats. “I’m sure you are.”

When they’d finished their stew, Brock started making fry bread. Daphne liked watching him prepare 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.”

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 yours, 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. 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 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 explained.

Brock could 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 her hard stare 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 behind 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 strong, too. I love all 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?”