Rocky Mountain Discipline

by Lee Savino

“Give you pleasure.” He nodded. “Every time. It’s what you need. You’ve had far too little happiness in your life. It’s my duty to make sure you make up for lost time.” Bending, he kissed her forehead.

  She reached out and stroked the front of his pants.

  “What about you?”

  “Let me get you healthy first,” he said. “I want to see you looking less pale and thin before I wear you out every night.”

  “But—”

  “I waited so long for you, Phoebe, I can wait a little longer. Now, I have something to speak to you about.” He sat next to her on the bed and took her hand. “Tomorrow, we need to go to town. After the Martins’ store, I’d like to stop by Dr. Shepherd’s house and—”

  She pulled her hand away and he recovered it patiently.

  “I don’t want to go.”

  “Why not?”

  “What can he do to help me?”

  “I don’t know, Phoebe. That’s why we’d go find out.”

  She turned her face away. “This is ridiculous. I should be allowed to do as I please.”

  “You’ve suffered long enough. You may not mind, but I do. It’s my job to take care of you, and I’m going to do just that.”

  Phoebe huffed.

  “Do you think, if Esther hurt her foot she’d limp around and work herself to the bone without letting the doctor at least look at her to see what was wrong?”

  “No, but—” she broke off the thought. It was too humiliating.

  “But what, Phoebe?”

  “Esther’s beautiful,” she blurted.

  In the semi-darkness, she saw confusion crease his face.

  He didn’t speak. He rose and left the room, returning with the lamp and his small shaving mirror. “Here,” he said, propping up the glass. “Look here. What do you see?”

  Wide blue eyes stared back at her out of a pale, narrow face. There was a little flaw in one iris, a splash of brown that marked her different. “My face.”

  “Do you not think you’re comely lass?”

  “I do it’s just…it’s not safe to be pretty. Not for me.”

  Understanding dawned in his expression and he nodded slowly. “It is now,” he said quietly. “I’ll not let anything happen to you. And that’s a vow.” Setting aside the mirror and lamp, he blew out the light and climbed into bed.

  “You’ve had a hard life, lass, but not anymore. I’m going to coddle you and treat you like the treasure you are.”

  Phoebe felt tears clog her throat. He made her feel pretty and loved, things she didn’t deserve to feel.

  “You do know you’re a special lass, don’t you?”

  “I—I don’t know.”

  “Mrs. Martin met you once and she gives you gifts, stuffs you full of preserves and she does not do this for anyone. You worked for a woman for years who thought of you like a daughter, and misses you still. You work hard and run yourself ragged. You’re the most beautiful lass I’ve ever seen but that is not the only reason I married you. You’re strong, and stubborn, and I wish you could see that. But you will, Phoebe. One day, you will.”

  “I’ll go to the doctor,” she said finally. “As long as you promise to go with me.”

  “I’ll be at your side the whole time.”

  “Then I’ll do it.”

  “Thank you. It’s a gift to me.”

  He turned her to her side, fitting his big form against hers.

  Her brain buzzed with two images over and over: Esther and the doctor looking in repulsion at her foot, and disappointment on her own husband’s face as they told him there was nothing to be done.

  “What are you thinking about?”

  She didn’t answer, so he tucked her more firmly against his chest.

  “Sleep now, Phoebe,” he ordered, and amazingly, she did.

  True to his word, the next morning Calum loaded her up on the little mule and took her to town. They were outside of the Shepherds’ house by midday.

  Esther made a big fuss of them coming into the house and eating lunch, so in the end Phoebe’s examination took place in the kitchen. She sat on the edge of her seat, nervous as Dr. Shepherd propped her foot on another chair and started to probe it.

  “Phoebe,” Esther said, coming over and handing out coffee as if they were all there for a social visit instead of a medical one. “Did Calum ever tell you of the baby boy he saved last Christmas?” The doctor’s wife launched into the story of Jack, the little Ute boy. “Calum found him and his mother in the snow. She was coming down the mountain, and got caught in a bad blizzard for a few nights. Calum came across them and lashed together branches to make a travois and pulled it behind him all the way to town.”

  “Truly?” Phoebe turned wide eyes to her husband. He gave an uncomfortable shrug.

  “I just found them and got them here. Tis you who did the rest, and Donovan’s woman.”

  “Johnathan and I took Jack in and Carrie Donovan nursed him along with her daughter until we found a wet nurse. He was perfectly healthy, once he was warm and fed.”

  “What about the mother?” Phoebe asked. The doctor was still measuring her foot, but she didn’t notice.

  Esther’s face fell. “She didn’t make it.”

  “She was married to a soldier. A traveling man who took her from her family. She left and was trying to get back to them,” Calum said.

  “Calum went out in the spring to find her family. They recognized the blanket she wore, though they didn’t know she had a child. We took Jack back to them in April; his aunt wished to raise him.” Esther blinked several times, as if she might shed tears.

  “We’ll visit him.” Dr. Shepherd reached over and squeezed his wife’s hand.

  Phoebe startled a little; she’d forgotten the doctor was there.

  “We can visit anytime; his aunt and grandma said so. They even said they will keep the name we gave him.” Esther brightened.

  “Now, Phoebe.” Dr. Shepherd brought her attention back to the matter at hand. “I’m going to touch your foot and stretch it, and I want you to tell me how it feels. Especially whether it hurts.”

  Taking a deep breath, Phoebe let the doctor go about manipulating her cursed limb, while Calum hovered close by. With her husband at her back and the charming Mrs. Shepherd humming at the hearth, Phoebe found she could almost relax, and was glad the doctor saw patients in his warm kitchen.

  “All in all, the limb is very healthy and strong,” Dr. Shepherd pronounced when he was done. “It’s actually a very mild case of clubfoot. The deformity itself isn’t painful except what stems from walking on a twisted foot. You say it’s been like this from birth?”

  Phoebe nodded.

  “And you’ve never seen a doctor until now?” The doctor’s brow wrinkled, but his brown eyes were kind.

  “Her family told her it was a curse,” Calum rumbled behind her, putting his hands on her shoulders. “They told her it could not be fixed.”

  Dr. Shepherd pursed his lips. “That’s a shame. I must tell you, that there’s a very simple treatment for the limb. The ligaments in the foot are too tight to let it unbend, but they can be stretched easily. It’s a simple procedure if done for a few weeks after birth—most babies, when treated immediately, never have any problems. Their foot heals in place, and they’re able to walk completely normally.”

  Phoebe suddenly couldn’t breathe. She heard the doctor continue talking, but it was like he was far away and she was underwater.

  “So there’s something that might help Phoebe?” Calum asked.

  “It may take longer, but the process is the same for an adult. I’m going to prescribe a simple course of exercises and bindings for the foot. The course of stretches will slowly move the navicular from its position on the medial malleolus—”

  “English, dear,” Esther reminded her husband.

  Johnathan cleared his throat. “Apologies. I can show you the exact way to stretch the foot. If that goes well, we’ll put it in a cast in its correct position, and the
foot will heal in place. If all goes well, I’m confident it will greatly improve the angle of your foot. It’s possible you will be walking on a completely normal foot by spring.”

  “Oh, Phoebe, that’s good news,” Esther cried.

  Phoebe nodded, trembling a little. She’d always thought her foot was a curse she would never be rid of. Ten minutes with a proper doctor and suddenly everything she’d believed was a lie.

  A pause, and Calum’s head bent near hers. “Do you hear that, Phoebe? You’ll be able to walk, good as new.”

  Phoebe heard the words from far away. A lifetime of shame and suffering, all because of her family’s spite over her foot. She let out a little sob, and the whole room stilled.

  “Phoebe?” Esther said with concern, but the tears were already running down the young woman’s cheeks. Calum leaned down and her arms went around her husband. He lifted her easily and carried her out of the room.

  “Let them be, Esther,” Dr. Shepherd said. Calum strode down the hallway to a little parlor at the front of the house.

  “It’s all right, wee one. I’m here. You’re going to be fine,” he murmured and seated them both on a chaise. “Now tell Calum what’s wrong.”

  It took a couple of tries for her to gulp out the truth.

  “‘From birth,’ he said. They could have fixed it, if they wanted to. My family let me think this would be forever. Why didn’t they love me enough to help me? Why didn’t they—”

  Her mouth stretched with a sob and she couldn’t speak. Calum wrapped his big arms around her, holding her while she cried.

  “Oh, Phoebe lass, you’re all right. Just cry it out.”

  Tucked into his warm, hard body, she let the tears pour down her cheeks. Calum murmured soft endearments, his beard scratching her cheek.

  When she’d cried enough to rest against him, he cupped her chin.

  “My sweet lass,” he said. “You’ve been treated most cruelly, but no more. Never again. I’m going to help you, Phoebe,” his grey eyes held a promise, “and you’ll walk straight and tall like you should.”

  Sniffling, she nodded, and hid her face in his neck, breathing in the fresh, wild scent of him. His big hand covered her face, holding her close. “I wish I could go back to the moment you were born and watch over you. I’d hold you like this and tell you how beautiful you were.”

  She squeezed her eyes shut and more tears ran out. Calum tipped his head back and thumbed them away. “I can’t, but I can hold you now, and care for you. And I’ll be with you for your first steps. Does that sound good?”

  Nodding her head, she gave him a tearful smile. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome. Now, can you sit in my lap while the doctor shows us how to heal your foot? We’ll both learn together.”

  Her breath shuddered out. She didn’t want to face the doctor, her foot and her fears again, but with Calum beside her, she knew she could do it. It was him between her and the rest of the world, and she could trust him to keep her safe.

  The exercises Dr. Shepherd gave her were simple, but Phoebe hated doing them. Every time she had to touch her foot, she could feel the ugliness spreading through her. Calum helped her the first few times, but since she was to do them several times a day, he left her to do them most mornings while he did the morning chores of fetching water and wood.

  One morning she waited too long stoking the fire, and he returned before she could do the stretches. She went to the bedroom and pulled on her socks and boots, then hurried to get breakfast going without doing any of the prescribed treatments. Once her day started, she forgot about doing the exercises at all. She skipped them at noon too, but by early evening, she found her hip and thigh muscles cramping, tired from the long day of work. Without the stretches and the bindings, her foot was turning in again, putting strain on her whole right side.

  She laid her leg out on the table bench, rubbing her leg and grimacing.

  “Sore?” Calum asked from the doorway, and she dropped her hand. She hadn’t meant for him to see her massaging her leg.

  “A little.”

  He crossed to light a fire, and she felt grateful. The warmth would help her cramping body.

  With the blaze started, he came to his feet, dusting off his hands. “How are the bindings coming?”

  “Good.” She kept her head down, staring at her feet.

  “Any pain from them? You don’t find they hinder you at all?”

  “No.”

  A pause, and she could feel him studying her. He sighed, and she knew he’d read the truth.

  “Phoebe, come here.”

  The distance from the table bench to his big chair felt like a mile. When she reached him, she didn’t look up, but stood in front of him, feeling like a child about to get chastised.

  Gentle hands drew her between his legs. “Did you do the bindings today?”

  “No, Calum.” A hand on her chin tipped her face up.

  “What about yesterday?”

  She shook her head and let her eyes slide away from his grey ones. She couldn’t bear to see disappointment there.

  “Why not?”

  Her shoulders shrugged once, and slumped, defeated.

  “Phoebe. We talked about this. You need to do the exercises and bindings every day for them to work. If they’re uncomfortable, we’ll tell the doctor and we can make adjustments.”

  “They’re not uncomfortable.”

  “Then why are you not doing them?”

  “I don’t know.” She squirmed a little. “I don’t want to.”

  He raised a brow. “Is that a good reason not to care for yourself?”

  She just glared at him.

  “Well, if you won’t. I will. Every day. We’re doing the bindings and the exercises, and if you cross me, you will be spanked and made to sit in the corner on your smarting bum.”

  She gave a little huff of frustration.

  “You don’t believe me?”

  The next thing she knew she was over his lap. “No!” She shrieked, kicking her legs. “Get off.”

  “Be still and take your punishment like a good lass.”

  “Just let me go! You’re treating me like a child—”

  “Perhaps you need to be treated like one so you learn your lesson.”

  “But I don’t like the bindings,” she whined.

  His hand smacked down once, in warning.

  “You’re not telling me the truth, little girl. Your actions are hurting you and causing you pain. And it’s my job to correct that.” His big hands kneaded her fleshy lobes, readying them for a good smacking. Across his knees, caressed and completely helpless to him, she already felt calmer, as if his touch imparted a peace that soothed her soul. Her protests died away. A part of her realized this was happening, and felt annoyed.

  “I told you I’m going to take care of you, no matter what.” He started spanking her, quick, light slaps to one buttock then the next, covering every part of her bottom with his large palm.

  The sting woke the struggle in her again. She yelped and struggled but he held her easily, warming her cheeks with his broad hand. Squirming, she tried to get away, and he used his leg to tamp hers down, while one hand caught her flailing hands and held them to the small of her back.

  Pinned and unable to do much more than wriggle, Phoebe had no recourse but to accept the humiliating punishment. The spanks felt worse now that she couldn’t move.

  She groaned her frustration, fighting against her own desire to submit. Her bottom felt very warm now. She gritted her teeth against crying out. She would not yield.

  Her determination lasted through only a few more sharp smacks.

  “All right, all right, I’m sorry.” She shouted apologies but he paid no heed, his hand dancing over her skin. He never hit her too hard or in the same place too many times, but his palm was relentless.

  “This is for your own good. I don’t like causing you pain, but you must learn.”

  At last he stopped. Her bottom throb
bed as if the spanking continued, but a warm haze coated her thoughts. He never spanked her hard, she realized. Even while chastising her, he gave her just a taste and not too much, enough to impart the lesson. In this, and everything else, he took care of her.

  He rubbed her heated flesh and she realized her pussy was wet, body primed for his intimate touch. This was worse than being put over his knee and punished: knowing that, deep down, a part of her liked it. His fingers dipped a little and she tried to wriggle away. “Be still.”

  She sniffled, but submitted. He went back to squeezing her cheeks until almost all the sting was gone, replaced by a warm glow deep inside of her.

  Finally, he tipped her up and carried her to the chair.

  She yelped as her hot bum hit the hard wood. Her leg didn’t hurt as much, but maybe that was just compared to her bottom.

  “Now, you’ll sit in the corner and think about how to be a good girl, while I get your bindings ready.”

  He came to get her after a few minutes, and she went through the motions begrudgingly with him. He was calm and patient and sweet to her, even when she put up a fuss. It was infuriating. His hands worked her foot and calf gently. She both loved and hated the sight of her handsome husband cradling her cursed foot.

  When he was finished, her leg and foot were tired from the exercise but she had to admit they felt much better. He reached for her bindings and she tried to take them from him, snapping, “I can do it.”

  “I know you can.” He took her foot firmly his lap. “Let me take care of you.”

  She turned her sob into a growl of frustration, but let him manipulate her foot and tie it properly.

  He should be with someone beautiful, not an ugly crippled girl. It didn’t make sense that he would want her.

  “How does that feel?”

  “Fine,” she huffed. “Happy?”

  He studied her quietly. She knew she was poking the bear, but the frustration inside her was building, trying to come out, and if she didn’t snap at him, she would cry.

  “It does make me happy to know you’re getting better.”

  “I don’t see why you should care.”

  “Excuse me?” His eyebrow lifted.

  “You hear me,” she muttered.