Texas Trio Pt. 02 - Becky's Debt Ch. 09-12

Catherine pursed her lips. "I think you should ask him to dinner."

"What?"

"What?"

Colt was louder than Jem, but Catherine shushed them both. "Becky is completely against the idea of marriage. Of course she needn't marry if she doesn't wish, but she shouldn't let Harrison's villainy dictate the remainder of her life."

She felt her husbands shift, tensing at the mention of her uncle, who'd tried to sell Catherine into marriage with a wide variety of lechers and villains. He'd beaten both Catherine and Becky before they escaped his control, and though Catherine's physical wounds had been worse, Becky had never recovered from the shock of her uncle's betrayal. They didn't often speak of that difficult time in their lives, but Becky had made it clear she'd never willingly subject herself to any man's rule. Her resolve hadn't faded over the years.

"Brody's a cowhand, not even a good one," Colt stated. "She deserves better."

Cat sighed. "She doesn't have many options out here. Their friendship may fail to bloom, but if a mere ranch hand is brave enough to beard you two on his own, I say we should let him try."

"He's thirty; that's too old for her."

Jem's comment earned a wry smile from his wife. "He's a year younger than you were when we met- and Becky's a year older than I was at the time."

Jem's mouth twisted.

"Shouldn't we ask your sister what she thinks?" Colt asked quietly from her other side.

"No," Cat answered firmly. "Becky will reject the concept out of hand without even considering the man himself. We'll have Mr. Easton to supper and let her get to know him a bit before you decide whether or not to give him your permission. If you approve, he may then approach her directly."

No one replied, so Cat glanced down.

A shudder ran through her body. From where her husbands lay, flat on either side of her hill of pillows, Jem and Colt couldn't see each other, yet each was studying the profile of the breast nearest him with identical, fiery intent. Catherine was clad in a thin lawn nightdress which did little to hide her rosy nipples or the breasts which had grown fuller with each pregnancy. Already pebbled in response, her nipples began to tingle, and Cat drew a sharp breath. After nearly five years of marriage, these men could still make her crazy with desire. She lowered her arms and began to unbutton her gown.

-:-:-:-:-:-:-

About a week after The Inquisition, as he thought of it, Jem galloped up alongside Brody, who was cutting calves out of the herd for branding.

Brody tipped his hat back on his head and waited.

"We have not resolved your suit one way or the other, and no one has spoken to Rebecca, but my wife has extended an invitation for you to dine with us tomorrow evening. Come up to the house around eight." Jem paused, scanning Brody from hat to boot. "We're not formal during the week, but it will probably help your cause if you don't smell like cowshit when you arrive."

He wheeled away without waiting for a reply, and Brody went back to cutting calves, a wide smile plastered on his sun-browned cheeks.

-:-:-:-:-:-:-

TIDBIT: In answer to a question I was asked after Brody visited C&J's office in Chapter 7: a "dog-run house", also called a dog-trot or a possum-trot house, is an American architectural style which developed in southern states prior to the Civil War. Built in hot, sticky climes before the advent of electricity in every home, cooling was accomplished by allowing air to flow straight through the building, via doors centered in the front and back walls. At first these houses only contained two "rooms"- a bedchamber to one side of the central corridor and a living/cooking area to the other. They almost always had a wide front porch running the length of the front wall, too. Thanks again for the hearts, stars, and comments! - Stefanie