The Brocton Chronicles Book Two by Brandy Golden

Deputy Matthew McCracken reached for the back of Cecil’s waistband as he ducked under the kitchen table to evade him. Grabbing a hold of the lad, he hauled him back out, kicking and thrashing. “Now, you hold on there, Cecil,” he demanded, trying to keep his squirming captive from getting away again. “I just want to talk to you!”

Cecil stared stonily at his captor, his breath coming in ragged gasps, his light green eyes very wary. He did not acknowledge the words of the man holding him other than to stop struggling for the moment.

Matt inspected the boy closely. Those eyes were an unusual color, not one he had seen before. The lad couldn’t be more than thirteen at the most. His hat had flown off in the chase, and the boy’s hair was black as Kentucky coal and lay finely against his head. He had a stubborn cowlick that stood up at the back of his head and the clean smooth face of a boy not yet gone through the change to a young man.

However, he was as dirty as a lad could get and smelled to high heaven! There was ground-in dirt beneath his fingernails, and the ragged looking clothes he wore didn’t look like they had ever seen a washboard. He suspected they hadn’t. Old man Rivers… “Pappy”…as Matt knew him…hadn’t cottoned much to baths or any form of housekeeping as far as he knew.

“When is the last time you had a bath, boy?” Matt began cautiously, keeping a firm grip on Cecil’s arm.

Matt shook his arm a little bit. “Answer me, son. When is the last time you had a bath?”

“Well, boy, you smell worse than a hibernating bear fresh from the cave, and you are as dirty as anyone I’ve ever seen. And those clothes need tending to.” He smiled at Cecil as if he just knew he was going to go along with him this time. “All I want you to do is get a bath. I’ve got some clean clothes you can put on and some lye soap in my saddlebag. I can’t take you home looking and smelling like that. My house would never be the same.” Not to mention his nose.

He looked at the pot of water boiling on the old piece of a cook stove that Pappy must have drug up into the mountains by mule and then at the metal tub he had set in the middle of the floor. “The water is hot, and I’ll get some cold water from the stream to cool it down, and then I want you to strip and get in it.”

Cecil grunted and shook his head vigorously from side to side. The message was clear. Cecil was NOT interested in getting a bath.

Matt tried to curb his impatience. It was getting late in the morning, and he had already been gone overnight. The sheriff would be wondering what had happened to him. He hadn’t expected to be stuck with Pappy’s nephew when he had come up yesterday afternoon to check on him, but Pappy had been adamant. He tried not to think nasty thoughts like…just his luck! Pappy had to die when he was here and leave him Cecil!

Pappy had lived in the mountains near Brocton for a long time, as long as Matt could remember in his twenty-two years, anyway. Matt had come into Pappy’s territory hunting one day when he was about fourteen. He had a bead on a rabbit and was getting ready to shoot it when a shot had rang out, and a heavy object had dropped on him from the outcrop above. Shoving it off and scrambling to his feet, he had stared in shock at the mountain lion lying dead.

That was the first time he had met the decrepit old mountain man. He had come shuffling from the forest, toothless and cackling and slapped him on the back. “Ye’d best watch what yer doin in the woods, son,” he had said, his faded blue eyes twinkling. “You was a huntin the rabbit, and he was a huntin you!” He pointed a gnarled finger towards the dead cat.

Matt had stuttered and stammered his thanks, but Pappy had waved it off. “You jest be more careful, son, the wood is full of all kinds of critters, some good, some bad.”

It had been the first time he had ever seen Cecil too. The small lad had hung back, his eyes huge in his thin, pale face, a hat stuffed down on his forehead. “Who’s that?” he had asked curiously.

“Oh that’s Cecil,” Pappy had replied. “He don’t talk. My sister’s kid. She up and died not long ago, and I inherited him since I’m his only kin.” He cackled again. “He don’t eat much, and he works hard, so I keep him.”

That was all Pappy had ever said about Cecil, and Cecil had never had anything to say, so Matt had just gotten used to him…kind of like a stray dog that always hung around. He’d come to check on Pappy now and then through the years, but Cecil was always in the background, and he had never paid him any attention.

It was only when Pappy hadn’t been into town for a couple of months that Matt got worried and wondered why he hadn’t seen him. Usually, he came to town for a few supplies once a month that he packed back in on mules, but Matt suddenly realized he hadn’t seen him lately.

While saddling Daisy yesterday, he had impulsively decided to head into the mountains and check on his old friend. After telling the Sheriff where he was headed, he had gone. Picking his way along the mountain stream near Pappy’s old log cabin, he hadn’t been able to shake the feeling that something was wrong.

He approached cautiously, looking about for signs of activity. He didn’t see anyone anywhere. There was smoke curling out of the chimney, so he figured someone must be inside. He took his gun from his holster and checked the shells. As a lawman, he knew it always paid to be cautious.

With pistol in hand, he had approached the old steps carefully, his senses on alert. The door was open, and it looked quiet, but he moved the door aside the rest of the way and stepped inside. Off to the right he saw them.

Pappy was lying on an old feather tick, and Cecil was sitting beside him, his head in his hands. He jumped up when Matt entered and a flash of relief came across his face as he moved out of the way.

Quickly, Matt crossed the floor, holstering his gun and knelt beside Pappy, feeling his forehead. It was raging hot, and his breath was raspy. When he felt Matt’s cool touch, he opened his faded blue eyes and grinned weakly.

“How long you been like this, Pappy,” Matt had demanded, alarmed at the paper thinness of the skin on his face and the hot flesh.

He had coughed weakly, a gargled strangling sound and then spoke. “Not much time…waited for you, boy…take care of Cecil fer me…promise me!” He had grabbed Matt’s hand with trembling fingers, his grasp almost too weak to feel.

“I’m going for the doctor, Pappy,” Matt had said quickly, starting to rise.

Pappy had quickly gasped, “NO! No time fer that, boy…jest promise me…. you’ll look after Cecil…promise me!”

“Of course, Pappy,” Matt had replied. “You know I will, but let me go get the doctor now, you just lie back and rest.”

Pappy had lain back then, but his eyes had closed, and a raspy breath had escaped his feeble old body…and not returned. Pappy was gone.

Matt had stood up and looked at Cecil. The boy’s eyes had been huge in his face, and his lower lip was trembling, but he stoically stuffed his hands into his pockets and eyed Matt cautiously. It was the first time Matt had ever really looked at him.

After burying Pappy, Matt had told Cecil to go to the stream and get cleaned up and pack up what he wanted to take with him. They would be heading back to Brocton.

Cecil had gathered up his things and tied them into a sack, but he hadn’t gotten a bath. Matt had no intention of taking Cecil up behind him on Daisy with him looking and smelling the way he did, so he had insisted. Cecil had never answered him, just stared guardedly at him.

“All right,” Matt had said grimly. “We’ll do this the hard way then. I’ll just toss you in the stream, at least you’re bound to come out cleaner than when you went in.” He had lunged for the boy, but Cecil had dodged him and run into the woods. “Come back here, boy!” Matt had yelled, but, of course, Cecil hadn’t. Matt had gone looking for him, but he had gotten the impression the boy was hiding and laughing at his attempts to find him. Finally, it had started to get dark, and Matt had given up. He had slept with his ear attuned to the boy’s return, but he never heard anything. At dawn, he had gotten up and decided to outfox him.

Going out back and into the old barn Pappy had built out of logs, he found a metal tub that hadn’t seen use for many a year he figured. The metal was dented and tarnished. He cleaned it up and brought it back inside and then put a kettle of water on to boil. Having done that, he decided to fix the “bait.”

Matt figured the boy must be hungry about now, so he rummaged around and found some ham hanging from the cellar ceiling and brought it up. Slicing off some thick slabs, he dumped them into a frying pan, and soon, the smell of ham sizzling was permeating the air. He made sure the window was open so the smell could drift out. It wasn’t long before he spied a movement alongside the window, but he ignored it for the moment.

“Time for run to the privy,” he had announced to no one and clomped his boots toward the back door and made a big deal of slamming the door as if he had gone out, then he slipped out of his boots and snuck back behind the door and waited.

It was only a minute before Cecil had warily slunk through the door, headed for the pan of hot ham sitting on the table. That was when Matt had sprung. Which brought him to the present moment. What to do with the boy!

“Now, look here, Cecil, it’s not like I’m asking you to do anything against your religion you know,” he snapped. “It’s just a bath. Haven’t you ever had a bath before?”

Cecil just continued to stare at him warily, like a trapped animal. Matt hated to be too harsh with the boy after just losing his only relative, but his patience was being sorely tried. He looked down…bare feet. Well, that made it easier to get his pants off anyway. He reckoned he’d just have to strip the lad and dunk him himself. But first, he had to keep him from running off again.

Looking around, he saw some rope hanging on the back of one of the two log chairs. Grabbing it, he sat Cecil down in the chair and quickly wrapped the rope around his middle, tying him to the chair back. For good measure, he tied his ankles to the chair legs. “There,” he panted, “all trussed up. You won’t be going anywhere for awhile, so you might as well eat.” He pushed the pan of ham towards the boy, and Cecil glared at him, but reached for the ham and began to eat, stuffing his mouth with the meat. Grease ran down the sides of his thin dirty arms and down the side of his mouth as he ate. All the time he watched Matt warily.

Good grief, thought Matt. The boy’s little better than an animal! He really began to wonder what he had let himself in for. Sighing, he grimly poured the hot water into the tub and then headed out the door to the stream for a bucket of cold water. He was walking in the kitchen door when he saw Cecil headed towards the back door. “Oh no you don’t,” he yelled running after him. They were halfway across the yard when Matt tackled him.

Cecil thrashed furiously, but Matt held onto him and yanked the dirty jeans down the boy’s legs. Then he sat on him. “You’re not going to keep running from me Cecil,” he yelled furiously. “I’m not going to chase you all over hell and back just to make you take a bath, you’re going to learn to mind me!” He quickly took off his heavy leather belt and turned so he was facing Cecil’s wiggling backside in the long red underwear. Whew…the stench was almost unbearable!

Matt was on his knees and sitting back on his haunches, Cecil between his legs. The boy’s hands were scrabbling uselessly at his powerful thighs, making no impression whatsoever. He folded his belt in half and raised his arm, then brought it down with a resounding thwack across the rump in front him.

Cecil bucked beneath Matt’s body, his legs thrashing wildly, but no sound except a high keening noise came from him. “You going to mind me, boy?”

There was no answer, and Matt looked around, but all he could see was the back of Cecil’s head. The boy’s fists were clenched, but he didn’t say anything. “Well, you let me know when you’ve had enough, Cecil. You may not talk, but I know damn well you can shake that head of yours!” With that, he raised his arm again and brought the belt down sharply across the bucking backside.

He paused and looked around again. “Had enough, now?” Cecil’s head bobbed up and down furiously. Matt threaded his belt through his pants and got up, still holding onto his charge. Cecil stared at him, his eyes huge in his pale face. His lower lip trembled, and Matt felt a little sorry for him, but not enough to keep him from dragging him back to the cabin and marching him to the tub. He pointed at the water. “Now, strip and get in there and don’t make me have to tell you again, or I’ll take Pappy’s razor strap to your rear end!”

Cecil looked terrified at his words, his gaze sliding to the heavy strap hanging by the door. He slowly took off his jacket, glancing from Matt to the strap. Matt folded his arms and watched sternly. He would brook no more nonsense.

Cecil’s trembling fingers had begun to undo the buttons on his shirt when he hesitated and stopped. Matt was instantly alert. His hand shot out just as the boy made another break for it, and Matt’s patience snapped. Snarling, he grabbed the boy.

“All right, we’ll do this the hard way!” He quickly swept his hand down the front of Cecil’s shirt and ripped it off his body. Then he put his hand in the buttons at the top of the one-piece red underwear set and yanked the stretchy material down off his shoulders and to his waist. He was dumbfounded when Cecil gasped and put his hands over his breasts, trying to hide them from his view. Cecil was a girl!

Matt swung around and saw three mountain men coming through the doorway, their shotguns trained on him.

Matt’s gaze swung back to Cecil who was rapidly pulling the red underwear back up, her face as red a beet. She wrapped her arms around her waist and hung her head, her thin body trembling.

“Well, do you have anythin to say fer yerself before we shoot you?” growled the huge mountainous man from somewhere in the middle of a bushy black beard.

“And whut have you done with Pappy?” growled the short fat one, looking around the cabin.

“We don’t cotton to a man forcing hisself on a woman,” added the tall lanky one, his black eyes peering at Matt.

They were all surprised when Cecil stepped in front of Matt, shaking her head vigorously as if to refute their statements.

“The little gel is takin up fer you,” said the giant. “Guess it ain’t force then is it?” He looked at the other two.

“In that case,” piped up tall and lanky, “it’s time to git the preacher.”

Short and fat nodded his head in agreement. “Ayah, it be time fer the preacher all right. You best go get him, Slim.”

Slim had turned and was heading out the door when Matt finally found his voice. “Now hold on a minute! What do you mean, get the preacher?” He was still trying to assimilate the fact that Cecil was a she. He moved her aside and walked over to the three men.

Bearded giant grinned. Or at least what passed for a grin. He had so much hair on his face it was hard for Matt to tell. Could have been a grimace for all he knew, except the blue eye’s appeared to be amused. “I don’t know whar you come from, mister, but here in the hills, when a man sees a woman nekkid, it’s cause they’re married.” He broke off a hunk of chew and stuck it in his jaw. “Reckon you two done jumped the gun a bit, but it’s nothin that cain’t be fixed.” He began to chew on the huge knot that puffed out his cheek.

Matt gaped at him. “You can’t be serious. Me? Marry this child? I was only trying to get her to take a bath, not attack her.” He said it distastefully as if it had a bad flavor.

Cecil stared at him. Was that hurt he saw in her eyes, or was it his imagination? She quickly looked away and ran into the room behind the old blanket. Apparently, it was a bedroom, he didn’t know. He had never asked.

Slim had stopped outside the door, staring in the direction of the wooden cross Matt had staked out over Pappy’s grave, not far from the cabin. “Pappy’s daid ain’t he?” He turned back to Matt inquiringly.

“Yes,” Matt replied heavily. “I came up to check on him yesterday and found him dying. He asked me to look after Cecil, so I agreed. I just wanted him…err…her…to get a bath before I took her back to town with me. I didn’t know he was a girl. Pappy never told me.”

Bearded giant aimed at the nasty metal pail that sat by the door. It was stained and dented, the fluids inside it looking like something a bear would throw up. He missed…naturally…or partially missed. Either way, the nasty dark spittle went half in the pail and the other half slid down the sides to join the stains of countless misses before it. “Well, now, that’s a shame then ain’t it? We didn’t know it neither. No matter, though…she’s still gonna be yer wife. Pappy done gave her to you, so she’s yorn by right, anyway. The fact you didn’t wait ‘til the weddin nite don’t make no differunce. Go on, Slim. Go git the preacher. We is gonna have a weddin!”

“So whut’s yer problem?” said Bearded Giant angrily. “You must like the little gel, or you wouldna undressed her.”

“She’s just a child to start with,” objected Matt. “Children don’t get married!”

“She may be little, but she ain’t no chile,” returned Short and Fat. “The gel is sixteen years old, that much I did know. Plenty old enough fer marryin.”

Matt ran his hand through his dark blonde hair, and then tugged at his moustache. “Look, boys, you can’t just go forcing a wedding on me…or on Cecil…it wouldn’t be fair to either of us.”

He looked towards the room Cecil had disappeared into and called briskly as if the matter had just been settled. “Cecil! You get dressed and get on out here now. We’re going back to town.”

When he turned to face the men again, he was looking down the muzzles of two double-barreled shotguns!

Heath was sitting at his desk in the parish office when he heard the door open. Looking up, he found himself staring at a tall lanky man with a patch over one eye and a double-barreled shotgun under his arm.

The man’s molasses colored hair hung to his shoulders, but he seemed neat and presentable. When he smiled, he was missing several teeth, but then mountain people didn’t cotton much to dentists or doctors, preferring to use the old fashioned methods of a piece of twine to yank out the offending tooth.

“Mornin, Preacher,” he stated politely, taking off his dusty black hat with the rawhide string around the brim.

Heath stood up and cleared his throat. He nodded politely back. “How can I help you, Sir?” he inquired.

“Name’s Shanks, but folks jest calls me Slim,” he responded. “I come to bring you back with me to perform a weddin. The fella and his little gal done gone ahead of the weddin vows, and we got to get ‘em hitched right away.”

Heath walked around the desk; his curiosity peaked. “What fella…err…fellow?”

“Don’t know his name, Preacher, but he done had that little Cecil gel stripped to the waist…ain’t supposed to do that lessen they are married. Now, iffen you won’t come back with me…reckon me and the boys will jest have to shoot him.”

“Oh, Heath, what’s with this bill for…” Maddie stopped dead still at the sight of the tall man with the shotgun. “Am I interrupting something?” she asked curiously. She smiled when he doffed his hat at her.

“No, come in, Maddie,” said Heath. “This man wants me to perform a wedding.”

“Oh, how wonderful! I love weddings!” Maddie’s eyes shone with pleasure. “Who’s getting married? I didn’t know anyone was engaged in Brocton.”

“Pappy’s little fella, who is a little gel, done mixed up with a young fella, ma’am,” responded Slim courteously. “It’s only right that he be marryin her now that he’s had her clothes off and all. You git my drift, right?”

“Our friend, Pappy,” Slim answered, getting a bit impatient. “Git yer Bible Preacher and let’s go, I don’t wanna keep the boys waitin.”

“I reckon it’s about an hour’s ride into the mountains. But Pappy ain’t livin no more, he done died yesterday.”

“You need someone to witness the ceremony,” piped up Maddie. “I’ll go along on Cecil’s behalf.”

“Maddie!” Heath sent her a warning glance. He was beginning to figure out what was going on here. Some poor hapless fellow had gotten into a compromising situation and was now being forced to marry the girl in question. Shotgun weddings didn’t take place all that often anymore, but in the hill country, anything could happen.

“Slim, is the couple in question willing to get married?” Heath inquired politely.

Slim shot Heath a hard stare and shifted his shotgun. “It don’t matter whether they be willin or not. They were willin when he took her clothes off, so they’re willin far as me and the boys are figurin. You comin now, or do I have to shoot him like I said?

“Give my wife and I a moment please,” Heath replied and took Maddie by the arm to pull her aside.

“I’ll jest wait right outside here,” Slim replied and stepped outside the door.

Heath spoke softly to Maddie. “Honey, you go and tell the Sheriff what’s going on. I have little choice but to go with Slim. I can’t let a man be shot because I refused to do anything.”

“But, Heath,” protested Maddie. “What will I tell him? We don’t even know where you are going?”

“I’m willing to bet the Sheriff knows where the mountain folks live and may even know this Pappy. You skedaddle on into town now, and I’ll try to stall Slim as long as I can, so our trail will be as fresh as possible.”

“All right, Heath, but be careful.” She hugged him close and then turned and left by the back door.

Heath walked over to the door and opened it. “I’ve told my wife to stay here and see after…uh…things while I go with you. Just let me get my Bible and the papers we need to make it all legal, and I’ll be right with you.”

“Fine, Preacher,” agreed Slim. “Jest hurry up, I ain’t getting no younger.”

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