As Wyatt did as instructed—an incredibly painful endeavor for his injured right arm—he pivoted slowly to look at where the voice was coming from. The light in the barn was not as bright as outside, but it was enough for him to make out a girl with brunette pigtails wearing boy’s britches and a button-up flannel shirt. There was also plenty of light for him to see the hollow depth of a Smith & Wesson barrel, aimed right between his eyes.
Wyatt wasn’t a stranger to guns—he’d even had one pointed at him a time or two—but being held at gunpoint for no apparent reason got him feeling tetchy. Having a gun pointed at him by a little girl who might accidentally shoot him, irritated him further. His hands still in the air, he growled, “You’d better holster that weapon, young lady. I come meanin’ no harm, and I don’t take kindly to being on the wrong side of your daddy’s gun.”
The girl bared her teeth in a snarl. “This is my gun, mister. You need to tell me what in the tarnation you’re doing here, right quick.”
“And you need a darn good walloping for having such bad manners,” he shot back. “I’ll say it again. Holster that weapon. We can talk about why I’m here when I’m not in fear of my life.”
Her eyes narrowed, studying him carefully, and then the expression on her face relaxed. She slowly uncocked her revolver and buried it in the holster attached to her hip. “My apologies. I thought you were one of the Xavier boys. The light isn’t all that good in here.”
Wyatt put his hands down, the movement once again causing him pain, and glared at her. “You’re gonna end up killing someone if you’re not a little more discerning. Now, how about you tell me where the lady of the ranch is, and then you can tell me where your pa is. I’ll be having a word with him about his daughter, who doesn’t have a lick of sense, far as I can tell. I have a mind to spank some sense into you myself!”
The girl’s lips curled into a grin.
His eyes now adjusted to the dim light, Wyatt noticed that she had freckles across her button nose, giving her a mischievous, youthful appearance, but he also noticed the swell of her breasts underneath her shirt, indicating she was a bit older than he’d thought at first.
“You’re looking at the lady of the ranch, mister, and if you want to talk with my pa, you’ll have to die and go to heaven first. I’d be happy to arrange that if you try and lay a finger on me.”
Wyatt scowled at her. “You look very young to be in charge here.”
“I’m eighteen years old. My name is Elsie Fin, and this is my ranch, the whole kit and caboodle.” An amused glint lit her eyes.
Wyatt could tell she was enjoying setting him straight. He groaned and rolled his eyes. The marshal should have thought to tell him Miss Fin looked as young as she did, and he shouldn’t have assumed Elsie Fin to be older. He hoped he hadn’t gone and already ruined his chance at getting a job.
Irritated with her, the marshal, and himself, he asked in an annoyed voice, “You pull a gun on every cowboy who comes here looking for a job, Miss Fin?”
“Only the handsome ones,” she quipped, and giggled like a schoolgirl would. Her cheeks reddened, and she looked down at the ground, appearing embarrassed by what she’d just confessed.
Wyatt felt his eyebrows head north with surprise. He knew he wasn’t a bad-looking man, but a woman had never so openly and awkwardly called him handsome before. He studied her with interest. He found it hard to believe she was the mastermind behind a cattle-rustling operation, which was a serious crime punishable by a long prison term. The girl standing in front of him had just given him a glimpse into her innocence. Her attempt to flirt with him had obviously caused her much embarrassment, so he doubted she’d ever even shared a bed with a man. Was he truly to believe she was directing men to steal and rebrand cattle?
There was only one way to find out. When she finally lifted her eyes to look at him, he cleared his throat and returned to the matter at hand. “Like I was saying, I’m here lookin’ for work. I’m a little down on my luck, and I ask for nothing but room and board in exchange for my labor.”
She sobered, suddenly appearing more like a woman and less like a schoolgirl. Frowning thoughtfully, she said, “I have enough hands, Mister…”
“Parker,” he supplied, and took off his hat. “Mr. Wyatt Parker, at your service. I hope you won’t mind me being so bold as to say it, but I think you could use another hand, if not on the range, then right here fixing up your cabin. Seems it could use a few new boards and a nail or two, and I’m good with a hammer and saw.”
“Yeah, the house could use some work,” she agreed. She looked down at the ground again, appearing to be deep in thought, and said after a short spell, “There’s an extra bunk in the bunkhouse, and I can provide three square meals a day, but I can’t afford to pay you anything.”
He felt a small thrill of victory. “That’s just fine, Miss Fin. Like I said, I’m only looking for room and board at the moment.”
She gave him a curt, businesslike nod that differed sharply from her scrappy appearance. “Very well. Just so we’re clear, I won’t need to you to work with the cattle, only to fix up the house.”
Wyatt rubbed the back of his neck and took in the meaning of her words. If she was rustling cattle, it made sense for her not to want him around the operation until she trusted him. That meant she was smart and this mission might take longer than he’d originally expected. No matter, at least he’d be eating and have a roof over his head for some time.
“I’ll do whatever is needed, Miss Fin.”
She stepped forward and held out her hand. “You can call me Elsie. Mind if I call you Wyatt?”
He enclosed her diminutive, warm hand in his. She felt fragile. The smallness of her hand in his, combined with her mischievous appearance, made her seem very much like a little girl to him, one who deserved a good spanking, not life in prison.
“Yes, please do call me Wyatt, Elsie,” he said, giving her small hand a squeeze.
Her big, brown eyes twinkled, and her cheeks still appeared vaguely pink. Wyatt wasn’t given to vanity, but he knew a smitten woman when he saw one. She was attracted to him, and she was doing a damn poor job of hiding it. Considering that his mission was to determine whether she was breaking the law, he was less than happy about being on the receiving end of her feminine attention. Entertaining it even for a moment felt like a wretched thing to do, so he made efforts to quell the fire before it blew to life.
Still holding her hand, he forced a stern look on his face. “One thing you should know, Elsie.”
Her lips were parted slightly, and her breathing was coming out in short pants, her breasts rising and falling quickly. “Yes, Wyatt?” she said, and batted her eyelashes at him.
He groaned inwardly. This was one girl who needed to get hitched and rolled around in the hay in a jiffy, or she might very well burst. “You’re going to be my boss, and that’s just fine. I’ll do as you wish and work for my keep. But if you ever pull a gun on me again, I’ll make good on my threat to turn you over my knee.”
Wyatt thought perhaps this promise might eliminate any budding attraction she was feeling, but it seemed to do just the opposite. Her breath hitched before she grinned.
“You want to spank me?”
“I don’t want to,” he said in an exasperated voice, releasing her hand. “But I will. Drawing a gun on a man isn’t somethin’ to do on a lark. It should be a last resort kind of a thing.”
The little minx continued to grin at him. “I don’t think you will punish me. You wouldn’t dare, now that you know who I am.”
This conversation was not playing out at all how he’d intended, and he felt flummoxed. The way she was talking, it was almost as if she wanted him to punish her. “Do you really want to test that, Elsie?”
“The thing is, I like to know that the men working for me are men of their word,” she said playfully. “And you just made an interesting promise.” Her statement became nothing less than a dare when she reached down for her weapon.
He strode a couple paces away and sat on a bench, where he tossed his Stetson aside and proceeded to roll up his left shirtsleeve. “Seems to me you’re in need of some discipline, so you can come lay yourself over my lap.”
Elsie’s face reddened, but it wasn’t from anger. She looked embarrassed, and the naughty glint was still in her eye. She nibbled on her bottom lip and stared at his bent knee, blinking rapidly.
This had to be the strangest situation Wyatt had ever found himself in. He was about to punish a woman to prove he was a man of his word in order to keep the job she’d given him. It was a preposterous game she was orchestrating, but he was willing to play it, especially since he thought she deserved a good smack or two.
“What are you waiting for?” he asked. “Come here.”
She inhaled sharply at his firmly spoken words, and her face reddened even more. Without looking him in the eye, she walked to him. When she was within his reach, he took hold of her arm, maneuvered her to his left side, and bent her over his knees.
“You’re left-handed?” she squeaked.
He wasn’t, but his injured right arm wouldn’t work well in a spanking. “You really want to chat about which hand I’ll be using to smack your bottom, Elsie?”
She giggled. “I suppose not. What would you like to chat about?”
Wyatt couldn’t help but chuckle at her response, and at the interesting position he’d found himself in. He spent a moment observing his lovely target and noticing how her soft tummy pressed against the top of his hard thigh. Her trouser-clad bottom was upended enticingly. Without even touching it, he could see she had a very good bottom for spanking. It was plump and round. It would jiggle when he applied his palm to it in punishment. Ironically, even though she was about to receive a child’s punishment, Miss Elsie Fin looked nothing like a child in her current position. She looked every bit a woman, and some very wicked thoughts about spreading her legs and taking her hard were entering his mind unbidden.
Wyatt rested his right hand on the small of her back and without further ado, reached his left hand high in the air and brought it down in an arc that landed a sound swat on the low swell of her buttocks. As predicted, her little butt absorbed the smack with a jiggle.
She yelped but stayed in position. He applied another swat in the same spot, wondering if she would ask him to stop the punishment now that she knew it hurt. But she merely gasped and waited for the next smack. Wyatt planned to cease as soon as she asked him to, since his only goal in giving her the spanking was to prove that he was a man of his word, but she didn’t seem interested in ending it any time soon.
“I’ve been a very bad girl, Wyatt,” she said breathlessly during his pause.
He coughed with surprise and disbelief, both at her and at himself. The woman wanted more pain, and for whatever reason, he really wanted to give it to her. It made him feel strong and in control in a way he hadn’t felt since losing his job and his girl.
He wondered why Elsie wanted to be punished. There was no doubt in his mind that he was smacking her hard enough to cause a sting. That could mean only one thing: She was enjoying being in pain. He didn’t analyze it further. He proceeded in earnest, bringing his hand down again and again on her cute little bottom, which she began to wriggle with discomfort after the tenth spank. He continued on even harder, alternating spanks on each cheek so that every bit of her bottom felt his chastisement. “Bad girls get punished, don’t they, Elsie?”
“Yes,” she breathed. “Oh God, Wyatt…”
He stopped spanking, thinking she must have had enough. “You ready to be good, then?”
She squirmed a little over his lap. After a long moment of silence, she said, “The thing is, I think since I was very naughty, you… you should pull down my trousers.”
Wyatt closed his eyes briefly before he opened them and rubbed her bottom in circles. He felt his cock growing hard, pressing against her small waist. The spanking suddenly felt nothing like discipline and everything like a prelude to romantic relations. He ached to bare her bottom and feel her hot cheeks under his palm, and then dip his fingers between her legs to see if she was wet for him.
But that would really be crossing a line. If all worked according to plan, he would be instrumental in putting her behind bars. There was no way he could enjoy that kind of intimacy with her. It would make him a total bastard.
“Something is telling me you’re enjoying this,” he said wryly. “It’s not much of a punishment if you like it.”
She looked back at him. A pleading, desperate look had crept into her eyes. “You should spank me harder then. You know, to teach me a lesson?”
He swallowed. It was very tempting. “Why do you want to be punished so severely? I think you’ve had enough punishment for pulling a gun on me.”
“I’ve done other things… Really bad things,” she explained. “It feels cleansing somehow.”
A thought entered Wyatt’s mind. Maybe he could get her to confess to him about the rebranding operation while she was in her current position. It seemed a real possibility, considering the direction of their conversation. She was in a mindset of being disciplined for all her wrongdoings, and it wasn’t a stretch to think she might confess her worst sin to him in her vulnerable state.
Something like panic shot through him. He took hold of her arm suddenly, pulled her off his lap, and placed her upright in front of him. He didn’t want her to confess. That would mean he’d have to arrest her, and he hadn’t wrapped his head around that. Though she didn’t know it, she had given him a gift. She had made him feel strong and able again, and he couldn’t bear the thought of repaying her in that moment with betrayal.
He cleared his throat. “Is it safe to give this back to you?” He reached behind him and retrieved her gun.
She stared at him with a dazed expression. Her mouth alternately hung open and then closed, like she was thinking of words to say but then deciding not to say them. Her face blazed with red heat that he would swear was warming his skin. Wyatt had never seen a woman looking so embarrassed. Of course, no woman he knew had ever done something so worthy of embarrassment. If someone had told him that a woman would beg him to spank her, he would have laughed that person out of town. These things just didn’t happen.
Wyatt didn’t want her to feel embarrassed, so he tried to think of something to say to make her feel better. Standing to his feet, he handed the gun back to her and said, “A good hiding can clear the conscience. No shame in it. Next time you can beat my backside.”
She smiled slightly. “I don’t think you mean that.”
She was right, there was no way he’d willingly let her smack him, but he thought making her think so might alleviate her embarrassment. He shrugged. “I might. Not much damage a little woman like you could do to a hard man like me.”
A small whimper escaped her throat. “I don’t know what came over me, asking you to do that.”
“Hey,” he said, his voice stern. “Don’t feel embarrassed, ya hear? What happened was a little odd, but I dunno… it felt right.”
His firm tone seemed to shake her out of her humiliated state. She looked at him shyly and then looked down. “I can’t understand it, but it felt right to me too. Thank you, Wyatt.”
He gave her shoulder a small squeeze, feeling like he should be the one thanking her, but not quite knowing how to do so.
Not another word was spoken about the incident that day. Elsie led him to the bunkhouse and introduced him to her foreman, Randall, and her two ranch hands. Before the men had even finished saying hi to each other, sh
e slipped out the door.
Chapter Five
Elsie lay in bed, unable to sleep. Her mind spun with the events of the day. Never before had she felt the kind of attraction she’d felt upon meeting Wyatt Parker. His whole being projected masculinity and strength without seeming overbearing. He was the opposite of overbearing. There was a vulnerability in his eyes that added to his appeal. She could tell that he was a man who’d never had an easy day in his life, who had worked and struggled and was there to tell the story because of it. Elsie could relate to that, and she admired it.
When Wyatt had held her hand and threatened a punishment, she’d felt a fluttering of arousal in her belly. Stronger than her physical reaction, however, was the influx of emotions that came along with it. The spanking had hurt, but it had also brought her momentary healing. For the first time since starting her thieving operation, she didn’t feel the heavy bite of guilt gnawing at the pit of her stomach.
The next day, Elsie sat at her breakfast table with a cup of coffee and an unopened letter in response to her mail-order groom advertisement. After the strange events of the previous day, she was more convinced than ever that she wanted a husband, preferably someone as handsome and strong as Wyatt. Unfortunately, the letters she’d received up to that point hadn’t impressed her.
Her advertisement had specified three qualities she wanted in a man—loyal, of sound mind, and of good character—and not one of the letters had managed to comment on all three. It frustrated her. If a man couldn’t even respond properly to a short advertisement, how could she trust him not to let her down in other areas?
Sighing, she hooked a thumb under the envelope’s flap and tore it open. The letter was from a Mr. Harvey Latham of Rochester, New York. A quick read-through told her that Mr. Latham was quite eloquent and obviously intelligent. Unlike the previous responses, he explained in detail how he possessed all three of the qualities she’d mentioned wanting in a man. One comment in particular piqued her interest.
Justice for Elsie Page 3