Justice for Elsie

by Amelia Smarts

  He let out a grunt that became a long moan. Because his arm had been positioned incorrectly for some time, Elsie knew she’d just caused him an incredible amount of pain. She hastily pressed her fingers against all areas of his shoulder, determining that the joint was in place.

  He was clenching his jaw with his eyes shut tight, the waves of pain still radiating through his body. He would be sore for some time, but the severity of pain would lessen in a few minutes.

  She left the room and returned with a bottle of whiskey, which she handed to him, an herb poultice, and a sling. Carefully she wrapped the white cotton around his neck and down to his forearm, which she cradled into a stationary position.

  “Land’s sake!” he exclaimed when he caught his breath. “That hurt like the devil. I ain’t never cursed in front of a lady, but I almost did just then.”

  “I wouldn’t have minded,” she assured him. “I’m with my ranch hands all day on the range, and I’ve heard some gritty language coming from them when they didn’t realize I was within earshot.”

  He smiled at her with warmth and appreciation in his eyes. “Thank you, Elsie. You’re terribly kind.”

  She nodded and applied the comfrey herb poultice to his shoulder. “This here is knitbone,” she explained. “It’ll help with the swelling. Your shoulder will heal properly now, but you shouldn’t move your arm hardly at all for a month or so.” She sat on a stool a short distance away from him and tried not to stare at his bare chest.

  The smile left his face. He frowned at her. “A month?”

  “Or longer,” she confirmed. “Don’t worry, you can still board at the bunkhouse even though you won’t be working.”

  The sad expression that he’d worn several times throughout their evening together came to his face once again. He shook his head. His voice sounded both mournful and exasperated when he spoke. “You this nice to everyone, Elsie?”

  She shrugged. “I would want any of my hands to recover fully from an injury before working again. That’s what my pa would have wanted too.”

  He rubbed his hand along his jaw. “Not used to this kind of treatment, I must admit. My last boss fired me the minute he found out I was injured and even refused to pay me for the two weeks prior because he said I was no good to him during that time.”

  “That’s terrible,” Elsie said, shaking her head. “People can be so cruel, only thinkin’ of themselves.”

  “You treat your men well. Keeps them loyal, I bet.”

  “Yes, my hands are very loyal. To answer your question, though... No, I’m not this nice to everyone. Not to my enemies.” She scowled. “I wouldn’t lift a finger to help the Xaviers.”

  “Why not?” he asked quietly, his eyes suddenly intense and boring into hers.

  She laughed bitterly and proceeded to explain what Mark Xavier had done to her and her father. It was impossible to know what Wyatt was thinking as she spoke, for his expression remained blank, but when she finished her story, he said, “That’s a terrible shame. I’m sorry to hear you and your pa went through that.”

  His sympathy caused tears to spring to her eyes. She looked away and tried to compose herself.

  Wyatt took a final swig of whiskey. “I should go. It’s getting late.”

  She felt disappointed. She didn’t want him to leave, but it was only proper. It was dark but for the coal oil lamp flickering with a low flame by the window, and she could hear crickets chirping insistently outside.

  “I’ll help you put on your shirt,” she said, rising to her feet and moving toward him. She stood between his spread knees and reached behind him with an arm on either side of his neck. They were so close to each other that Elsie could feel the heat from his breath on the exposed part of her upper chest. Her breasts were positioned near his face and nearly touched him as she reached over to position the arm of the shirt so that he could slide his left hand into it.

  She was aware of his breathing becoming more labored against her skin, which prickled and pulsed with desire as she drew in his scent, a mixture of soap, whiskey, and leather. She lightly covered his injured shoulder with the empty shirtsleeve, keeping his arm in the sling. She didn’t bother buttoning him up.

  In a sudden burst of courage and lust, she ran her hand down his bare chest, feeling the wiry hair and soft flesh over his hard ridges.

  “Elsie…” he said, his voice low, his tone a warning.

  She gazed into his glimmering eyes. She’d never been with a man, but instinct directed her movements. She felt like the most desirable woman in the world, standing there in front of him, having him look at her in that way, and she yearned for him to touch her.

  He wrapped his good arm around her waist and pulled her to a seated position on his left leg. His arm still firmly encircling her, he said quietly in a deep voice, “You’re playing with fire, young lady.”

  She clenched her legs together and shivered, the chiding having sparked her arousal. “Please, Wyatt…”

  “Please what?”

  She let out a whimper, a small sound that indicated how vulnerable she was to her onslaught of feelings. She didn’t know how to articulate what she wanted, but she didn’t need to. Her needy mewl spurred him into action. Strong fingers trailed up her back, entwined in her hair, and closed into a gentle fist. Gripping her hair at the roots, he turned her head to face him and crushed his lips against hers. She melted into the kiss. The pressure of his mouth caused an outpouring of sensations in her tummy, her breasts, and between her legs – feelings she’d never felt so strongly before. He growled, and the kiss became deeper, more insistent.

  His hand left her hair and wrapped around her back, pulling her close to him so that her breasts flattened against his chest. One of her hard, tender nipples scraped against a button on his shirt, causing her back to arch suddenly. She trembled and gasped when his lips left hers and nibbled at her neck.

  “Oh…” It was nearly too much for her. Her mind and heart raced, unable to understand what was happening to her body.

  She ached to lose her maidenhead, but Wyatt pulled away suddenly. He stood, bringing her to her feet as well, and took two steps back.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, breathing hard. “Forgive me.”

  “Don’t be sorry, Wyatt,” she exclaimed. “I want—” She took a step toward him, but he held out his hand to stop her approach.

  “No.”

  The word was spoken so firmly and without compromise that it caused Elsie to feel a sharp pang of rejection. Humiliated, she bit her lip and struggled not to allow tears to make an appearance.

  “It’s not that I don’t want to, Elsie,” Wyatt said quickly. “Please don’t cry.”

  “I don’t understand,” she said, feeling her lower lip trembling and her eyes filling with tears.

  “It’s just… I would be taking advantage of you.”

  “No, you wouldn’t. Not if I want it too. Do you not find me attractive?” She suddenly felt sick to her stomach. How desperate she sounded, begging for his affection!

  “I do find you attractive. And I would like nothing more than to continue what we were doing, but it wouldn’t be right.”

  She didn’t believe him. She was a fool, donning her prettiest dress, inviting him to dinner, even asking him to spank her! Clearly, he was turned off by her forwardness, which she knew to be unbecoming of a lady. She’d been spending too much time around men, assuming their way of behaving. That, combined with her lack of experience courting, had caused her to do everything wrong.

  She shook her head and blinked at the ground, wishing she could be anywhere but there. Struggling to keep her voice from wavering, she said, “It’s all right, Wyatt. I know I have been very forward.”

  An awful silence filled the room. She couldn’t even look at him and wished that he would leave so she could nurse her hurt pride in solitude. She could feel his gaze on her, and the longer he stayed silent, the more humiliated she felt.

  He walked to her suddenly, grabbed her wris
t, and pressed her hand against the front of his trousers. “Feel that?” he growled. “That’s how much I want you. You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on. So don’t you dare think otherwise.”

  She gasped and stared at him with wide eyes. His cock was rock hard. She knew a man became hard when he was filled with desire, so her earlier fear of him not finding her attractive faded, leaving total confusion in its wake.

  “Now do you believe I want you?” he asked through clenched teeth. He seemed almost angry, but it was more intense than anger.

  “Yes, I believe you,” she whispered, searching his face for the reason he’d rejected her. But it provided her with no clues.

  “Good.” He released her wrist and strode to the front door, where he grabbed his hat hanging over a hook and clapped it on his head. “Forgive me, Elsie.” Without waiting for her to respond, he walked out and slammed the door behind him.

  Chapter Six

  Elsie was deeply confused about her evening with Wyatt and his words and actions, but one thing was for certain. She wouldn’t ever be so forward with him again. She couldn’t bear the rejection a second time, no matter the reason, so she tried to force away thoughts of her attraction toward him, reminding herself that a potentially good husband was on his way from New York to meet her. She reread Mr. Latham’s letter often, finding hope and comfort in his words whenever she felt lost and afraid.

  She tried to figure out what had caused Wyatt to put a stop to their passion, but no explanation she came up with in her mind seemed to match reality. At first, she thought he might not like her personality, or he might not respect her as a rancher, but as the days went by, she realized that wasn’t the case. He always treated her with the utmost respect in their conversations, praising her ideas and complimenting the way she ran the ranch. He valued her opinion and asked for it often.

  Perhaps he didn’t find her ladylike enough? That was another thought of hers proved false. He behaved gently and gallantly toward her, removing his hat, standing in her presence, and opening doors for her. Always in the forefront of her thinking was the memory of him saying she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever laid eyes on. But if he thought she was beautiful, why didn’t he act on it?

  She told herself to stop thinking about Wyatt Parker, but she could never put him out of her mind for very long. He intrigued her. There was something different about him, something mysterious, and she longed to be in his presence. Knowing how his former boss and girl had treated him, plus seeing how much physical pain he had suffered, she felt protective and compassionate toward him.

  Her feelings of protectiveness toward Wyatt grew to alarming proportions when she heard the nasally voice of Mark Xavier engaged in a heated conversation with him. The voice came from the other side of the barn out of her sight, but she heard the words clearly.

  “You’re going to tell me what you know, boy, if you value your life,” Xavier snarled.

  Though Wyatt responded in an even tone, there was no denying he sounded annoyed. “Don’t rightly know what you’re talkin’ about, Mr. Xavier, and I reckon you should take a step back before this gets ugly.”

  “Oh, I think you do know. You’re either with the law or against it. You’d better decide which side you’re on right smart, or you’re going to find yourself in a barred box.”

  Anger surged through Elsie. She withdrew her revolver and quickened her steps. Wyatt had no knowledge of her nefarious activity, and Xavier had no proof of it. She wanted to keep it that way, and she didn’t want Wyatt to be in any kind of danger. She wouldn’t put it past Xavier to hurt him to try to get the truth, and she couldn’t bear the thought of Wyatt in his injured state engaging in a fight against her worst enemy.

  She rounded the corner to see Xavier holding a threatening fist in front of Wyatt’s face. Wyatt’s left fist rested against his hip. His right arm was still recovering and helplessly cradled in a sling. He didn’t appear afraid, though. He regarded Xavier with a bored expression.

  “Get away from him or I’ll shoot!” Elsie yelled at Xavier, pointing her gun to the back of his head.

  Mark Xavier’s response was quick. He sidestepped away from Wyatt, spun around, and drew his weapon. Elsie suddenly found herself face to face with Xavier’s Colt revolver before she could decide whether or not to shoot him.

  “Now hold on just a cotton-pickin’ minute,” Wyatt said with a raised voice. He stood straighter in a less-relaxed pose and tilted his hat up so that his entire face was unshaded from the sun. “There’s no need for weapons in this discussion.”

  “The harebrained trollop started it,” Xavier growled. He spat on the ground without removing his gaze from Elsie’s face. “Typical Fin, always trying to one-up me and always losing.”

  “Oh, is that right?” Elsie taunted with a sneer. “Seems to me I’ve been on the winning side as of late. My grasses are green, my cattle are fat, and my gun is loaded.”

  “Elsie, holster that right now,” Wyatt said, his voice taut. “You too, Xavier. Ain’t no reason to talk with irons when our mouths were workin’ just fine.”

  Neither made any move to holster their weapon, but they didn’t argue either. “On three, you both stand down,” Wyatt insisted. “One… two… three.”

  With matching sighs of exasperation, Elsie and Xavier lowered their guns. “Get off my property, Xavier,” Elsie growled. “And don’t be bothering my cowhands. You got something to say, say it to me.”

  Xavier’s face twisted into a contemptuous scowl. “One of these days, you’re gonna get caught. I look forward to the day the marshal takes you away in handcuffs.”

  Wyatt stepped toward Xavier. Though obviously injured, he still looked intimidating as he loomed over him. “You’ve got some nerve making threats against the lady on her own land. You heard her, she wants you gone, so get yourself going.”

  After spitting on the ground once again, Xavier departed on his horse, cantering away and leaving dust in his wake. Elsie stared after him, her heart thumping painfully in her chest. She wasn’t sure that her original concern that Xavier would hurt Wyatt had been a valid one when she finally looked at Wyatt’s imposing figure. He was glaring at her, his eyes flashing with anger and his lips set in a firm line. A tick in his jaw indicated he was gritting his teeth, and the scar that tracked his face seemed especially pronounced. She’d never seen a man looking as fierce as Wyatt appeared in that moment. She found it hard to believe he was the same gentle, soft-spoken man she’d gotten to know.

  Her heart continued to pound, now anxious over Wyatt’s obvious displeasure. What had caused him such anger? He strode the few steps to her and grasped her arm near the shoulder. “You have a death wish, woman?” When she didn’t respond, he asked, “What were you thinking, drawing your gun on a man having words with me? He could have killed you!”

  “I-I wanted to protect you,” she stammered, trying to wrench her arm free, to no avail. His grip wasn’t tight enough to inflict anything more than discomfort, but it was unyielding. Wyatt was a powerful man, much more powerful than she’d realized, even with only one good arm.

  “I don’t need you to protect me, Elsie,” he bellowed. “I don’t need any woman coming in the middle of my argument with another man, putting herself in danger on my behalf.” He gave her a shake. “You listening to me, woman?”

  She’d never seen this severe, chastising side to Wyatt, and she felt desperate for him to understand her motivation. “But it’s not your fight, it’s mine. And you’re injured! I didn’t want him to hurt you.”

  “I would prefer for me to lose a fistfight than for you to lose a gunfight… or win one, for that matter, and end up in prison!” He walked with purpose toward the front of the barn, hauling her along with him.

  “What are you doing?” she squeaked, though she had a strong suspicion of his intention when he dragged her in the direction of the bench.

  He sat down and dragged her between his legs before toppling her over his right kne
e. Wyatt wrapped his other leg over hers, pinning her in place. His left hand fell in such a hard swat on her clothed bottom that she gasped and arched upward.

  “Teaching you a lesson about safety,” he growled. Grasping the waist of her trousers, he tugged them down, while she squirmed helplessly between his legs.

  She felt mortified when the cool morning air wafted over her bare bottom. Before, when she’d begged him for a spanking, she’d felt some measure of control. Now she felt like a bad little girl, helpless to prevent her punishment, especially when he proceeded with giving her naked backside a proper, no-nonsense tanning. Sharp swats peppered her bottom and the tops of her thighs, causing such a sting that tears flooded her eyes nearly immediately. “Stop this, Wyatt! I’m ordering you to stop.”

  “Order away, missy,” he responded, smacking even harder. “You aren’t in charge at the moment.” Her whole bottom blazed, with each spank igniting a new fire on her poor unprotected cheeks.

  “Ow!” she sobbed. “Wyatt, please. I was trying to help you; I don’t deserve this!”

  “Ha!” he responded. “I don’t know of anyone who deserves this more. Would your pa have let you go and do something so dangerous without consequences?”

  His mention of her father brought forth a new wave of grief and pain. She’d acted recklessly ever since her father’s death, a result of hatred for her neighbor and grief over how her pa had died before his time. No one had ever cared to stop her. “No, he would want me safe. Please, it hurts…”

  He stopped spanking and rested his hand on her hot bottom. “I want you safe too, Elsie. I care about you. That’s the only reason I’m blistering your backside.”

  She sobbed, feeling regretful and in a great deal of pain. In the recesses of her mind and heart, she also felt like she was right where she deserved to be, getting the thrashing of her life.

  And boy did he give her a hiding. She felt like she’d sat on a stove by the time he finally released her. As soon as his leg loosened its grip over the backs of hers, she stumbled away from him, her hands frantically clutching her cheeks and rubbing to relieve the sting. Her bottom hurt so much that it took her several moments before realizing that her trousers were still pooled at her ankles. With a shriek, she grabbed them up over her hips, hissing with pain as the wool scraped against her punished skin but grateful to regain her modesty.