A Shotgun Wedding: Brocton Chronicles, #2

By Brandy Golden

His day just went straight to hillbilly hell...

 

All Deputy Matt McCracken had to do was take charge of the young boy that had been left in his care by his dying friend. Except things weren't going quite the way they were supposed to. Turns out Cecil is female!

 

According to three crazy, shotgun-toting hillbillies, he has to marry the recalcitrant but beautiful mute girl before he can leave the mountains, or settle for pushing up daisies! Matt wasn't particularly a praying man, but he was grateful when they sent for the preacher. Maybe the Reverend Heath Danvers could unravel the tangled web he's caught up in.

 

Cecil has only known life as a boy, raised that way to hide her from her abusive father. So when her only relative dies, and she's given to the deputy, she has little choice but to continue the ruse. Though her heart flutters around the deputy, she never dared imagine that the stern, handsome lawman would see her as anything more than a boy. Until she's caught, exposed, and no longer hide!

 

Get ready to rejoin Heath and Maddie and the rest of Brocton for another romantic adventure in the Kentucky mountains!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Brandy Golden Books
• Release date: Jul 26, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201332860

Brandy Golden

I'm a writer of compelling romantic stories in all settings. I love the American west cowboys, the Highlanders of Scotland, and the spitfires of contemporary romance.   My stories will always have strong males who don't mind turning a feisty young woman over their knee if the occasion warrants it. Sweet heat and passion, combined with some discipline make these stories of any genre captivating and enjoyable.  I live in the midwestern United States with a loving husband, five children, and five grandchildren, plus 3 furbabies. I also enjoy gardening scrapbooking, and of course, reading. Especially romance!  What you won't find in my stories is excessive foul language, overly descriptive and detailed sex, or BDSM. Well, mostly no BDSM. I do have a hint of it here and there, but I  have talented friends who write that very well. No, I'm more a fun-loving, John Wayne-style romance writer with just enough spanky spice to sizzle and keep you glued to the pages.  Enjoy the glow of romance, my friends, it's all around us..  Brandy

Book preview

Chapter 1

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 boy, he hauled him back out kicking and thrashing. Now you hold on, 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 light green eyes very wary and his breath coming in ragged gasps. He did not acknowledge the words of the man holding him other than to stop struggling for the moment.

Matt scrutinized the boy. Those eyes were an unusual color, not one he’d seen before. They reminded him of the ocean on a tranquil day, although today was turning out to be anything but tranquil. The boy couldn’t be over thirteen at the most. His hat had flown off in the scuffle and his hair was as black as Kentucky coal. It lay in fine layers against his head, but it was greasy as all get-out. A stubborn cowlick stood up at the back of his crown, a testament to a butchered haircut, and he sported the smooth face of a boy not yet gone through the change to a young man.

However, he was as dirty as a kid could get and smelled to high heaven. The dirt beneath his fingernails looked permanently embedded and more was ground into the creases of his hands. The ragged clothing didn’t look like it had ever seen a washboard. He suspected it hadn’t. Pappy had cottoned little to baths or any form of housekeeping as far as he knew. 

When was the last time you had a bath, boy? Matt asked, keeping a firm grip on Cecil’s arm.

Cecil stared mutely at him, not answering him. His sharp gaze darted here and there, looking for an opportunity to escape.

Matt shook his arm a little. Answer me, son. When was the last time you had a bath?

Cecil shrugged, showing he didn’t know. Nor did he care, Matt suspected.

Well, boy, you smell worse than a hibernating bear fresh from the cave, and you are as dirty as anyone I’ve ever seen. You and those clothes need tending to. He smiled encouragingly 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 cookstove Pappy must have dragged into the mountains by mule and then at the metal tub he had sat in the middle of the floor. The water is hot and I’ll get some cold water from the stream to cool it down, he added, 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 obvious. 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 stayed overnight. The sheriff would wonder what had happened to him. He hadn’t expected to be stuck with Pappy’s nephew when he came up yesterday afternoon to check on him, but Pappy had been adamant.

He tried not to think nasty thoughts, such as how unlucky he was that Pappy had to die while he was here and leave him with a mute boy.

As he contemplated what to do with the mulish Cecil, remorse pricked him and thoughts of his old friend came flooding back, as if it had been yesterday.

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

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

T-thank you, Matt stuttered, realizing his near miss with death.

Pappy just waved it off. No need for thanks, son. You just need to be more careful. The woods are full of all kinds of critters, some good, some bad. 

It had been the first time he had ever seen Cecil, too. Who’s that? he asked curiously as the boy hung back, his eyes huge in his thin, pale face. He had a floppy hat stuffed down on his head, nearly reaching the tops of his eyebrows.

Oh, that there is Cecil, Pappy replied. He don’t talk, he’s my sister’s kid. She died recently, 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 nothing to say. Matt had just gotten used to him—kind of like a stray dog that always hung around. He checked on Pappy now and then through the years, but Cecil was always in the background, and he’d never paid him any attention. Pappy had taught him a lot since that day.

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.

While saddling Daisy yesterday, he’d impulsively decided to head into the mountains to check on his old friend instead of tending to his duties as deputy sheriff. After telling the sheriff where he was going, he started out, the worry niggling at him. 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.

As Matt approached the cabin cautiously, he looked 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 his pistol in hand, he approached the old steps carefully, his senses on alert. The door was open, and it looked quiet inside. What he could see of it, anyway. Gingerly, he opened the door wider and stepped inside. That was when he saw them off to his right side.

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 flew across his face as he moved out of the way.

Quickly holstering his gun, Matt crossed the floor and knelt beside Pappy, feeling his forehead. It was raging hot, and his breath was raspy.

When Pappy felt Matt’s cool touch, he opened his faded blue eyes and grinned weakly. Knew you’d come, boy, he whispered.

How long have you been like this, Pappy? Matt asked, alarmed at the paper thinness of the skin on his face and the hot flesh.

Pappy coughed weakly, a gargled strangling sound. Not much time... waited fer you, boy...take care of Cecil fer me...promise me. He grabbed Matt’s hand with trembling fingers, his grasp so weak Matt could barely feel it.

I’m going for the doctor, Pappy, he said quickly, rising.

No! No time fer that boy...jest promise me....you’ll look after Cecil...promise me, now!

Of course, Pappy, Matt replied. You know I will, but let me go get Doc Matthews while you just lie back and rest.

Pappy laid back on the pallet then, his eyes closed. A raspy breath escaped his feeble old body—and didn’t return. And just like that, Pappy was gone.

Matt had stood up and looked at Cecil. The boy’s watery eyes were enormous in his face and his lower lip was trembling, but he stoically stuffed his hands into his pockets while Matt seriously studied him. It was the first time he’d ever really looked at the boy. You heard what Pappy said, Cecil. I’ll be taking care of you from now on. You understand?

Cecil nodded his head and swiped his eyes and nose with the back of his sleeve while Matt grimaced in distaste.

After burying Pappy, Matt told Cecil to go to the stream and get cleaned up, then pack up what he wanted to take with him. They would head back to Brocton as soon as he was ready.

Cecil had gathered up his things and tied them into a sack, but he hadn’t gotten a bath as Matt had instructed. He’d no intention of taking Cecil up behind him on Daisy with him looking and smelling the way he did. Why didn’t you get a bath like I told you? he asked grimly.

Cecil had never answered him, of course, just stared guardedly at him.

All right, Matt added, we’ll do this the hard way. I’ll just toss you in the stream, clothes and all. At least you’re bound to come out cleaner than when you went in. He lunged for the boy, but he dodged him and ran into the woods.

Come back here, boy! Matt yelled, frustrated. Naturally, Cecil didn’t return. He started looking all over for him, but got the impression he was hiding and laughing at his attempts to find him. Finally, it got dark and Matt gave up trying to locate him. He slept with his ear attuned to the boy’s return, but he heard nothing.

At dawn Mat arose and outfoxed Cecil. Going out back and into the old barn Pappy had built out of logs, he found a metal tub that he figured hadn’t seen use for many a year. 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 fixed 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. Before long, 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. For the moment, he ignored it..

Time for a run to the privy, he finally announced loudly to no one and clomped his boots with a heavy tread as he started toward the back door. He made a big deal of slamming the door as if he had gone out, then he slipped out of his boots and stood behind the door to wait.

It was only a minute before Cecil warily slunk in, headed for the pan of hot ham sitting on the table. That was when Matt sprang from his trap.

Which brought his mind back to the present? 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 at Cecil’s feet, noting they were bare. 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 spied 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. Since you won’t be going anywhere for a while, you might as well eat. He pushed the pan of ham towards the boy while Cecil glared at him. Then he reached for the ham and ate, stuffing his mouth as fast as he could. Grease ran down the sides of his thin dirty arms and dribbled down his chin. All the while, he watched Matt warily.

Good grief, thought Matt. The boy's a little better than an animal. He really wondered 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 through 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 will not keep running from me, Cecil, he yelled furiously. I will not chase you all over hell and back, just 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! He sat back on his haunches, Cecil between his knees. The boy’s hands were scrabbling uselessly at the ground in front of him, unable to get ahold of anything to pull himself forward.

Matt folded his belt in half and raised his arm, then brought it down with a resounding thwack across the rump in front of him.

Cecil kicked vigorously, his legs throwing the pants off.

Thwack!

Cecil bucked beneath Matt’s body, his legs thrashing wildly, but no sound except a high keening noise came from him. After a few more slaps of the belt, Matt paused. Are you going to mind me, boy?

There was no answer except for grunting and scrabbling noises.

Matt looked around, but all he could see was the back of Cecil’s head. The boy’s fists clenched and unclenched, his breathing labored.

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 several more times. Then 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, tear-streaked face. His lower lip trembled and Matt felt sorry for him, but not enough to keep from dragging him back to the cabin and marching him to the tub. He pointed at the water. Now, strip and get in there. 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 undone the buttons on his shirt when he hesitated and stopped, looking frantically around.

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 him. 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 on the buttons at the top of the one-piece red underwear set and yanked the stretchy material down off his shoulders to his waist. It dumbfounded him when Cecil gasped and put his hands over his breasts, trying to hide them from his view.

Cecil was a girl!

What in tarnation is goin’ on here? roared a voice from behind him.

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

Cover yerself, gel, thundered the giant of a man who appeared to be in charge.  Matt’s gaze swung back to Cecil, who was rapidly pulling the red underwear back up, her face as red as a beet. She wrapped her arms around her waist and hung her head, her thin body trembling.

Well, do ya have anythin’ to say fer yerself before we shoot ya? the giant growled from somewhere in the middle of a bushy black beard.

And whut have ya 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 ya, said the giant. Guess it ain’t force then, is it? He looked meaningfully 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 with tall and lanky. Ayah, it be time fer the preacher all right. Ya 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 girl. He moved her aside and walked over to the three men. 

The 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 dark blue eyes appeared to be amused. I don’t know where ya come from, mister, but here in the hills, when a man sees a woman nekkid, it's because they’re married. He broke off a hunk of chew and stuck it in his jaw. Reckon ya two done jumped the gun a bit, but it ain’t nothin’ that cain’t be fixed. He chewed 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 rape 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 glanced away and ran into the room behind the old blanket. Apparently, it was a bedroom. He didn’t know because he’d never asked.

Slim had stepped outside the door, staring toward the wooden cross Matt had staked out over Pappy’s grave, near 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.

The 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 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