Page 24 of Claimed By the Cowboys

Chapter 12

Brandy

Sunday morning light filters through the lace curtains of my bedroom as I button up my favorite red dress that skims my curves without clinging too much. It’s been weeks since I've worn it. Weeks since I’ve stepped foot inside the church at all. Work has been my excuse, as it always is, but this morning Mama put her foot down. It’s my only Sunday off this month, and I was looking forward to sleeping in, but no such luck.

“No more missing service, Brandy. The congregation are starting to talk, and the Lord misses you.”

“The Lord knows where I am, Mama,” I reminded her. “There’s no hiding from him.”

I smooth my hands down the fabric, turning to the side in the mirror. The dress fits, but my body is different within it, still marked in secret places no one can see. The bruise on my hip is faint but still there. The tenderness between my thighs that made me blush has almost eased. Two cowboys left their stamp on me, and here I am, trying to look like the respectable daughter everyone expects.

“Brandy, you ready?” Mama calls from downstairs. “The children are dressed!”

I take one last look at myself. My thick curls are tamed into a neat twist, simple gold studs embellish my ears, and a touch of neutral lipstick colors my lips. I blot my high forehead with powder, and gaze at myself for a moment. Bo kissed my forehead tenderly. Jensen twirled my curls around his finger, marveling at their tightness. I’ve always liked the way I look, but hearing genuine praise from two such handsome men about my deep brown skin and natural hair has left a happy mark on my heart. I head down with a smile on my face, ready to face whatever the day is going to throw at me.

Naomi looks adorable in her pale-yellow dress with a matching bow, while Elijah fidgets in his little button-up shirt and khakis, already tugging at the collar. Mama’s wearing her favorite floral dress and her best hat with silk roses.

“You look beautiful, baby,” Mama says, eyes softening as she looks at me. “It’s good to see you in church clothes again. Real good.”

Church clothes. A respectable facade, but beneath, I’m far from respectable,

The drive is short, but the knot in my chest grows tighter with every block. When we pull into the church parking lot, several heads turn. Whispers seem to ripple through the small crowd gathered outside.

I climb out of the car already dreading the comments.

“Been a while, Sister Carter,” Deacon Williams calls with a pointed expression.

I force a polite smile and usher the kids inside offering no explanation. I know how hard I’ve worked on all the Sunday’s I haven’t been present. I don’t need to explain myself to anyone. But still, as we pass the threshold, I feel like the ravishing I experienced at the hands of Bo and Jensen is visible to everyone.

The service seems longer than usual as I struggle to keep my mind clean and on the sermon. I sing the hymns on autopilot, the familiar melodies stirring both comfort and guilt. My mind keeps drifting to strong hands, soft praise, and how it felt to fall asleep safe between two warm, strong bodies. Every time I close my eyes during prayer, I see stormy blue-gray irises.

After the final amen, Mama wastes no time.

“Look, there’s Pastor Ellis’s nephew, Marcus,” she whispers excitedly, gently steering me toward the side aisle. “He’s been asking about you. Go on, say hello. He’s a good, responsible man.”

Marcus stands near the fellowship table in a slightly too-tight gray suit, already holding a paper plate of cookies. He has a pleasant enough face, but the prominent buck teeth and the soft paunch straining against his shirt buttons make it hard for me to feel anything but polite detachment.

Mama gives me a little push.

I approach with a polite smile. “Hi, Marcus. Good to see you.”

“Brandy! Been a long time.” He grins widely, showing more teeth. “You’re looking real nice today. That dress does wonders.”

“Thank you,” I say, trying not to fidget.

He launches straight into talking about himself. “Been real busy at the insurance office. I just closed my biggest policy yet. Client had three cars and a boat. Can you believe that? I told him, ‘Mr. Thompson, with the rates these days…’”

I nod along, murmuring the occasional “Oh really?” while my mind wanders far away, to two cowboys who asked about my day and focused on what I needed like it was a pleasure and a privilege.

Marcus barely pauses for breath. “And then my mama wanted me to help with her garden this weekend. I told her, ‘Mama, I’ve got the new lawnmower…’”

He talks for five straight minutes, and I smile until my cheeks hurt, the contrast between this safe, boring conversation and the raw, consuming night I’d experienced hitting me hard.

Mama hovers nearby, watching with hopeful eyes.

“So how are things with you?”

I smile and shrug. “You know… never a dull moment… never a moment to sit down.”