Melody (Journey's End Book 2)

by Victoria Phelps

  “Come, Chase,” he patted his thigh. The dog rushed to his side, and the two of them strode across the yard and into his cabin. Chase pushed on the door to Melody’s room with his nose and peered into the darkened space.

  “She’s not here, boy,” Mitch informed him.

  Chase shook his auburn hair. He found his blanket, turned in a circle three times and lowered his elegant body to the ground. Placing his chin on crossed paws, he heaved a sigh and rolled his eyes in a baleful glare.

  “I know, Chase,” Mitch said. “I feel the same.”

  He tossed the night through and when the sun poked its nose over the horizon, he got up grateful he could leave his bed behind. Mitch kindled the fire in his stove and started coffee. After a visit to his outhouse, he sipped the strong brew from the steps of his cabin and waited for smoke to rise from the chimneys of the other cabins. He gave a dissatisfied grunt. Time was wasting, and he yearned for activity. If he were too busy to think about Melody, it would be God’s own blessing.

  Mitch leaned over and let his hands ruffle the soft hair at the back of Chase’s neck. Hell, if he had a warm woman in his bed, he wouldn’t be in any rush to start the work of the day either. A thin wisp of smoke emerged from the chimney of his sister’s cabin.

  “Come, Chase,” Mitch slapped his thigh and launched himself from his porch. He rapped on the door and waited until he heard a muffled greeting before entering.

  His sister sat in the big rocking chair she favored. Little Annika snuggled by her side with her thumb secure in her mouth. Lars emerged from their bedroom with pants hanging low on slim hips and shirt hanging open. He ran a hand through rumpled hair and awarded Mitch a sleepy grimace.

  “It’s mighty early, Mitch,” Lars growled.

  “I thought we might get an early start.” Mitch raised his hands and let them drop. “I’m sorry, Lars. I couldn’t sleep and…”

  His sister leapt from her rocker, thrust the child into his arms and bolted for the door.

  “What the…” Mitch began.

  Lars was hard on his wife’s heels. “Watch Annika,” he called. “I’m pretty sure my Ellie girl is pregnant.”

  Mitch slumped into the rocker with the child in his arms. She leaned her body against him and returned her damp thumb to her mouth. He tipped his head until it rested on the chair’s back and closed his eyes. Maybe he needed one of these – the chair, not the baby – he clarified the matter in his mind, but his heart gave a painful squeeze. He’d had hopes.

  Mitch was dozing when the door opened. Ellie was ghost white and a light sheen of perspiration covered her forehead. Lars had a firm grip around her shoulders.

  “Mama.” Annika held her arms up in recognition and expectation.

  Mitch and Ellie exchanged places in the favorite chair, and he placed the child on her lap.

  Lars buttoned his shirt and thrust the tail into his pants. He studied his trembling wife.

  “Mitch and I will make breakfast, Ellie girl. You rest,” he said.

  “Thank you, Lars. Some oatmeal would settle, I think,” Ellie’s voice as soft as a spring wind.

  “I’ll get some fresh water,” Mitch grabbed the bucket and headed for the door.

  “Gather the eggs, too. Annika does like an egg in the morning,” Lars smiled at his tiny daughter.

  “After breakfast, we’ll settle Ellie and Annika over at the big house with Caroline. They look after each other.” He observed the pair in the rocker with worried eyes. “Caroline’s pregnant, too, but she’s over this first part. I don’t know how they stand it, throwing up every blessed morning.” He snorted his displeasure.

  “How long does that last?” Mitch wondered. He’d never given the matter a second thought, or even a first one if the truth were known. In his experience, babies simply appeared.

  “About three months,” Lars informed him.

  Mitch’s eyebrows shot high into his hairline. “Three months,” he kept his voice down, but it was a shout all the same.

  The men carried the food to the table, and Lars set Annika on her feet before lifting his wife and carrying her to the table.

  “Put me down, Lars.” Ellie slapped his shoulder. “I can walk.”

  “I know you can. Just let me baby you a little.” He took his chair and settled his wife on his lap. He lifted a spoon of oatmeal and let it hover before her closed lips. “Come on, Ellie girl, you need to eat.”

  Ellie sealed her lips and shook her head.

  Lars cajoled, “You know doc says to eat. You and the baby need food.”

  Mitch brought Annika to the table and set her on his lap. She squealed at the sight of her small pile of scrambled eggs and slice of toast. Grabbing the spoon, she thrust it at the eggs and prepared to catapult them across the room, but Mitch took her hand and guided them toward the child’s open mouth.

  Lars gave the spoon a little shake. “Eat,” he moved the oatmeal closer to Ellie’s mouth, and she turned her head with a whimper. “I know, Ellie girl, I know.” He kissed her forehead and rocked gently. He pulled her into a fierce hug.

  “Maybe she’s not hungry,” Mitch suggested.

  “If I don’t see to it, she won’t eat at all during these first months. I don’t aim to watch my wife and unborn child go without food.” He buried his face in his wife’s hair and exhaled a loud breath.

  “Ellie,” his voice was a stern warning, “don’t make me get the wooden spoon.”

  Ellie and Lars locked their eyes and words, unspoken, darted through the air. Then Ellie nodded and her mouth dropped open. The spoon disappeared and returned empty.

  “Good girl,” Lars praised. “Does it need more milk or sugar?”

  “No, it’s fine,” Ellie said. Like a fledgling in the nest, she opened her mouth for another bite.

  Breakfast over, Ellie and Annika headed for the big house. Mitch had to admit the nourishment perked his sister up. A spot of color bloomed on her cheeks and the sheen of sweat had disappeared.

  Sven leaned against the porch with one foot crossed over the other. Micah copied the pose.

  “Now that Mitch is here, we can brand those calves,” Sven said. “It’s a three-man job.”

  He rose to a stand, and Micah did the same. “Can you keep an eye on the young ones and the women?” he asked.

  “Yes, Pa,” the boy replied.

  “I’ll leave Chase to help. He’ll only be in the way at a branding,” Mitch stated.

  The sun was well over the horizon when the three men rode toward the pasture. Mitch looked forward to a long day of hard work. A man needed to pay attention when branding or someone could get hurt. The calves fought you, hooves flailed, and the fire blazed. Yes, sir, he’d have something to think about besides Melody.

  When twilight shimmered in a golden band on the horizon, Mitch slid from his horse in front of the barn and leaned into his warm flank. He had a torn shirt, a burn on his left hand and a giant ache in his right thigh where a hoof had landed a mighty blow. His wish was fulfilled; he was bone-deep tired.

  Micah shot out the door of the big house with Chase hard on his heels. He was waving his hat and kicking up dust. “I watched the women and babies, Pa,” he shouted. “Everyone’s fine.”

  “Thank you, son. That’s mighty fine work. Nobody is more important than our women and our young ‘uns.” Sven laid a large hand on a small shoulder.

  When the families gathered for dinner, Lars spoke the customary words, “Join hands.” He waited while the task was completed. “Lord, thank you for health and the food on our table. Thank you for the young cows we branded today, and the growing prosperity at Journey’s End. We ask you to watch over Melody while she is away from our table. Please keep Caroline and Ellie safe and strong as they walk the long road toward bringing new life to our home. Amen.”

  The men were simply too tired to talk, but Micah kept conversation flowing with a run-down of the day’s events. Baby Jake took two naps. Mary threw a tantrum and had to sit in the corner. Annika
fell and hit her head on the table leg. She will have a bruise by tomorrow her ma said. Chase ran after sticks most of the morning but slept in the shade after dinner. Oh, and at dinner, Auntie Ellie only drank a glass of milk, but the rest of them had cornbread and chicken.

  Lars gave his wife a sharp stare. “Ellie,” his voice a warning.

  “I’m sorry, Lars. I’m just so nauseous,” she explained.

  “We’ll talk later,” Lars said.

  Mitch and Chase headed for their own cabin as the first stars appeared in a black velvet sky. He paused on his porch to admire their twinkle.

  “Come on, Chase. Time for bed.” There was no twisting and turning this night. His exhausted body fell into deep, dreamless sleep. The following morning, Mitch waited for Lars to appear dressed and ready for work before he headed for their cabin.

  “Morning, Mitch,” Lars called.

  “Morning. How’s Ellie today?” he asked.

  “Well, mornings will be rough for near on three months.” He ran a hand through white blond hair. “We’ll get through it.” He snorted. “I was trying not to get another baby quite so soon, but Annika will be nearly two when the new one comes. Ellie says the timing is good, so I’m going to take her word for it. She managed a bowl of oatmeal and shared a little toast with Annika. Your sister runs on the scrawny side, and I’ve been trying to fatten her up as long as I’ve known her, but it just won’t stick.” He planted his hat firmly on his head. “Sven needs to stay and finish a table he’s promised to the Jenkins. Leaves you and me to repair some fence on the north side of the ranch.”

  “Fine by me,” Mitch replied. “Sounds a heap easier than branding.”

  “You are right there, brother, you are right,” he laughed. “I’ll go fetch us some lunch. You saddle two horses, and we’ll head out.

  The day was warm with a cool breeze that lifted your hair and blew down the front of your shirt. It was the kind of day Mitch loved the most, but today he paid it no mind. He was thinking of Melody, worrying about Melody, wondering if he could find a way to patch up their troubles. Problem was, he didn’t know exactly what those troubles were.

  The two men leaned against the fence and ate dinner. Mitch popped the last bite of sandwich in his mouth and broached the subject that weighed on his mind like a prairie fire.

  “Do you spank my sister?” he enquired.

  Lars gave a start and turned surprised eyes on his brother-in-law. “Well, that’s a might personal, but, yes, I do. Not often, but if she needs it. If I have to.”

  “Did you spank her for not eating?” Mitch ventured.

  “No. She’s doing her best. After the third month, her appetite returns,” Lars informed him.

  “Why a spoon?” Mitch asked.

  “What?”

  “You said, ‘Don’t make me get the wooden spoon’. Is there something special about spanking with a spoon?” Mitch wondered.

  “The doc told Sven, and he told me, not to use your hand if your woman is pregnant. Too much jostling. A spoon stings but it’s safe. Why all the questions?” Lars asked.

  “Well, I think I’ve been doing it wrong,” Mitch admitted.

  Lars choked. “Not too many ways to get it wrong. You’ve got her bottom, bare of course, and you spank it until its good and red.” He tilted his head and gave Mitch a speculative look. “But the how you spank isn’t nearly as important as when you spank.”

  Mitch’s face was a blank.

  “You spanked Melody?”

  Mitch nodded.

  “When?”

  “When?” Mitch pondered. “When she didn’t control her temper. She can be a hellcat, Lars, a brat.”

  Lars pushed his hat back and stuck a blade of grass between his teeth. “Did she ask you to help her with her temper? Did she agree to be spanked for it?”

  “Did she agree? Hell, no, who agrees to be spanked?” The idea was preposterous. “We had some rules.”

  “What were they? These rules?”

  “No swearing, no temper tantrums, no putting herself in danger,” Mitch recited. “I know both you and Sven spank for swearing.”

  “We do, but it’s a rule the ladies agreed to abide by. Yes, we don’t want them to swear, and we don’t want the children hearing their mothers swear, but the women don’t want that either.” Lars’ cheeks turned deep pink. “Sometimes my Ellie girl breaks that rule on purpose. She wants me to spank her.”

  Mitch’s mouth dropped open. “She wants a spanking?”

  “Well, it’s personal. It’s intimate. She’s trusting me. It’s about her faith in her man, and it’s just a spanking after all, but making up after the spanking. Now, that’s…” he paused and gazed over Mitch’s shoulder at a cloud floating by in the pale blue sky. “That’s something mighty fine. I think that’s what she is aiming for when she utters the swear word in the first place. The making up.” Lars adjusted his pants. “Damn. Makes me want to give that girl a spanking.” He laughed. “The only thing that will find Ellie over my knee quicker than quick is if she puts herself in danger. Out of those three rules you listed, that one is set in stone. No discussion. If she puts herself in danger, your woman needs spanked, and spanked so she’ll remember it.” He gave his head an emphatic nod.

  “I’ve made a mistake,” Mitch groaned. “Melody threw a tantrum. She tried to talk to me, to explain, and I wouldn’t listen. I just thought, well, you broke my rule, and I told you what would happen. A man doesn’t back down from his word, does he? She fought me, and, Lars, I whaled the tar out of her.”

  “Do you love her?” he asked.

  “I do,” Mitch admitted. “I do.” She had become as necessary as air. His house was an empty shell without her. He longed for her, ached for her.

  Instead of being a guide, a leader, he’d been a bully.

  “That’s why you spank. You spank because you love her. Spank with love, Mitch, love. You two jumped into marriage in a single afternoon and with an unusual set of circumstances. Her brother’s murder. A marriage of convenience. Establishing rules and consequences before love was putting the cart in front of the horse.”

  “You’re right. I wonder if she’d let me start over.” Mitch stood and brushed the dirt from the back of his pants.

  “Did you know Sven used to be a preacher?” Lars enquired.

  “Really? Sven was a preacher?” Surprise soaked his words like summer rain soaked the ground.

  “Yup, and a good one. Whenever I’ve asked his advice, he always says the same thing, ‘read Corinthians’.” Lars cleared his throat. “I memorized this little bit. Love is patient. Love is kind. Love does not envy. Love does not boast. Love is not proud. Love is not rude. Love is not self-seeking. Love is not easily angered. Love keeps no records of wrongs. Love never fails.”

  “I failed.” Mitch studied the ground between his boots. “I wonder if she’d wipe the record clean.” He lifted his hat and ran a hand over his damp hair. “Thank you, Lars, you’ve been a help.”

  The two men became engrossed in the care of their horses. Talk between them generally ran the gamut from weather to chores to breeding stock, and they needed to clear their manly slate of love talk.

  “Ready to head in?” Lars asked.

  Mitch nodded and mounted his horse in one easy swing.

  He’d visit her tomorrow. He’d apologize, and he’d listen. She’d been gone from his house for three nights if you included the day she turned her back on him and rode away. It felt like three months. Love is patient. Love is kind. He murmured the words under his breath like a mantra.

  Sven emerged from his workshop as they rode into the yard. “Would you boys help me load the table into the wagon?” he asked.

  “We’ll settle our horses and be right back,” Mitch said. They had the table halfway to the back of the wagon when a cloud of dust churned its way toward Journey’s End. A horse in a mighty big hurry.

  “Who might that be in such an all-fired hurry?” Lars frowned. “I hope he has good cause. No
reason to ride an animal so rough.”

  Mitch recognized the mount and his heart stuttered. “It’s Socks. Damn. Only trouble comes in that kind of rush.” The three men waited in a tight knot.

  Socks, breathing heavy, came to a stop. “It’s Thomas,” Mitch said. “Foreman over at the Bar W.”

  “Thomas.” Mitch crossed the yard in long strides. “What’s wrong? Is Melody all right?” He shot the questions like balls from a cannon.

  Thomas laid a hand on his heaving chest and bent to stroke the horse’s neck. “We’ve had trouble, Boss,” he gasped. He threw his leg over Socks’ back and slid to the ground.

  “Tell me,” Mitch demanded.

  “Melody came home alone, and she said you weren’t coming back. She was the boss now.” Thomas raised his eyebrows and shrugged. “I knew the men wouldn’t want to have a lady boss. I figured I could stand between them and her for a bit. Until you came back.”

  “You didn’t ride Socks like a man with the devil on his heels to talk about my marriage. What’s happened?” Mitch tried hard not to shout, but his voice was loud and demanding.

  “Let the man talk, Mitch,” Sven raised a calm hand. “Go ahead, Thomas.”

  “Someone set a fire in the barn that night. The extra guards we hired called the alarm, and we managed to get the animals out and douse the flames. There was some damage, but we’ve repaired it. That fire was intentional, Boss. It was started in the back of the barn where we store dry hay. If it hadn’t been caught in time that barn would have burned fast and hot. I wanted to fetch you, but Melody said no. Said it loud, too.”

  “Damn. Is there more?” Mitch asked.

  “More cattle have been rustled, about twenty head.” Thomas stopped and rubbed his hands together, bit his lip, shuffled his boots in the dirt.

  Mitch’s gut pulled into a hard knot. The man had more bad news to tell, maybe the worst yet.

  “This morning the men discovered three cattle butchered in the south pasture. Just killed for the meanness of it. Spooked some of the hands and four quit,” Thomas began.