Silas was the first to grab a pinch, putting it between his cheek and gum, before passing it to Angus, who also used it as chew. His father though, as customary, filled the pipe with the loose-leaf tobacco, lighting it with a match, the smoke swirling above his head as he furiously puffed to get it lit.
Clem sat down heavily in his chair as a man who’d done a day’s worth of work already. “So let’s have it. What do y’all want?”
Silas and his father deferred to Angus as the person with a bit of an edge above them.
Angus cleared his throat. “It seems, Clem, that since you’ve moved to this land in Green River, the Stone family hasn’t been having the benefit of the spring fed stream on their property. I’m hearing that you’ve stopped the spring, thereby drying up the streambeds further down the property. They’re losing livestock in this summer heat. What’s going on? You know I’m sure to not threaten a man’s livelihood without repercussions.” Angus leaned back in his chair crossing his ankle onto his knee, spitting into the nearby spittoon.
“This spring is on my property and because of that, I’m in charge of how and when it is used. What happens off of my land is of no concern to me.” Clem slapped his hand on the wooden table, the glasses of water sloshing.
Unable to hold back his frustration, Silas spit into the pewter bucket before responding in a strained voice, holding back his anger. “Now, Clem, the thing is, that spring has been here for hundreds of years and we shared this land with the McPherson’s before you moved here with nary an issue. Living in this land has many risks; we all look out for each other. Caring about each other’s livelihoods, helping each other to raise barns and… well just bein’ neighborly and kind. I would think we can assist you with things too.”
“See, young man, that’s where you’re wrong.” Clem put down his tumbler of whiskey, narrowing his gaze at Silas. “It’s every man on his own. What’s yours, stays yours. And what’s his.” He pointed his bony finger at Silas. “I’ve been through this before and it never works to be as you call it ‘neighborly.’ And this damn spring and stream belongs to me and mine.”
“That’s right, Pa.” The tallest of his sons stepped forward in a show of support.
Having worked with difficult people for years, and very ignorant ones many days as well, Silas knew that arguing would not be helpful. “What happened?”
Clem tilted his head, eyeing him silently, swirling the caramel-colored liquid in the glass. “What do you mean?”
“Obviously something negative happened at some point in your life with a neighbor. I’m just curious, wondering what they did to you and your sons.”
Clem didn’t seem inclined to answer but then looked over at Angus, who amiably shrugged giving one of his winning smiles. “Might as well talk. I haven’t known the Stone men long but from what I can tell about them, they’re good people and… well, stubborn. So I reckon they’ll sit here drinking your whiskey and smoking your tobacco until you talk.”
The men quietly listened to him relay a story of some bad blood between him and a neighbor in Chillicothe who burned his barn down and blamed someone else, but they had never been able to prove it. This same friend had been stealing chickens and cattle at night, forcing him to brand all his livestock. The local sheriff had been of no assistance, and the Jenkins family was left to deal with it on their own.
Silas took a deep breath, sighing loudly. “I can see why you don’t trust neighbors. It all makes sense now. It’d be hard to trust and leave yourselves vulnerable.” He dropped his head, shaking it before looking up at Clem and his boys again. “The only thing I can do is give you our word. We’ve been good neighbors for years. I’m a US Marshal; we aren’t going to do anything to ruin your livelihood. Can we come to a truce? Give us water four days a week until you can trust us and then if we prove ourselves to you, you can let it run free and natural. If we fail, then you can stop it up immediately.”
Clem stared back at him; his teeth clenched, jaw flinching.
“What do you have to lose, Clem? You know you won’t run out of water; that spring has been supplying two families and all their livestock for years. And if we fuck up, you get to keep it all—no questions asked. Deal?” Silas held his breath, waiting. Their whole farm relied on this agreement. And truth be told, Silas would take them to court. He knew enough lawyers; he’d fight this for his parents if necessary.
“It kinda sticks in my throat like a hair in a biscuit, but you have a deal. I’ll release water Monday, Wednesday, Friday, and Sundays. If it goes well within a month, I’ll release water every day.”
Silas and Clem shook hands. Clem poured whiskey into the tumblers, each of the men gulping it down in agreement.
Clem turned to his sons who were watching. “Take apart the dam, and let the water run free… today.”
“We thank you, Clem. You won’t be sorry. And if there is anything you need, like help birthing any livestock or some extra feed or hay to tide you over until you can get another batch, don’t hesitate to come down the hill and ask. We’ll gladly assist—it’s what we do.”
He was still wary, but the relaxing of his shoulders spoke of Clem’s walls breaking down. “Thank you, Henry.”
The men stepped out of the house into the heat, mounting their horses, galloping toward home. None of them spoke until they reached the barn; Silas suspected they were all afraid to jinx how well the confrontation had gone.
Once they stepped into the shadows of the barn, the slightly cooler air greeting them, they tossed their hats onto hooks on the wall, untacking the horses, brushing them down, giving them water and oats.
“That sure went a lot better than I expected. Thanks to the two of you, it looks like we may make it through the rest of the season without any more turmoil.” Henry looked over his horse at both Silas and Angus.
“It’s at least a good start. Unless he backs away from a gentleman’s agreement, I think it should be over.” Silas ran the wooden brush over his horse’s flanks, his hide cooling nicely.
Each of the men silently groomed their horse, putting them up in their stalls to relax in the coolness of their stall. Each of them went to check on their wife, meeting their needs before dinner.
Chapter 12
Angus stepped into the house with Henry to find both girls helping to make an apple pie with the first apple crop of the season. “If that isn’t a sight for sore eyes, my two girls making me a pie!”
“Pa!” Both Rose and Nellie threw their arms around his waist, leaving floury handprints on his shirt and vest. Since Nellie’s punishment, they had both taken to calling him Pa, and he swore he’d never tire of hearing it either. He couldn’t imagine a better title or job than being someone’s father. They didn’t come from his seed, but he loved them as much as his two girls that had died. Loving and cherishing a child’s heart and soul made you a father, not your seed in their mother’s womb. Their lives and happiness meant almost as much to him as their mothers did.
Patting both their heads, he turned to Grace. “Thank you for watching my girls. Would you be willing to keep them a little longer? I want to wake their mother up from her nap? Then we’ll both help you with dinner.”
Grace scowled at him for a moment, her lips pursed. “Of course you may. And I’m sure the nap was more than necessary, as well as any other recovery from your attentions this morning.”
“Grace Louise Stone! That is more than enough. Apologize to the man. Now.” Henry’s deep voice boomed through the tiny kitchen.
Nellie and Rose backed up until pressed against the washstand, eyes wide.
Grace stood with her back ramrod, her chest rising and falling with her quickened breath. “I’m s-sorry, Angus. Please forgive me. And, y-yes. I’ll watch your girls.” She cleared her throat, waving the girls to the table, quickly picking up her rolling pin to finish the piecrust.
Angus made eye contact with Henry, nodding silently toward Grace in an unspoken petition; once he received permission from Henry, he
stepped closer to Grace whispering in her ear. “I appreciate everything you’ve done, not only for my family but my passengers as well, but I want to make something very clear. Are you listening?”
“Y-yes, Sir.”
“I’d never hurt my wife—the mother of my children and my unborn baby, and since I’m a gamblin’ man, I’m thinking that you know from experience a good paddlin’ has never hurt a carrying woman or her child.”
Grace didn’t look at him but quickly tucked a loose curl behind her ear. “Yes, Sir. I do know.”
He did his best to hide a smile and leaned back in to growl. “I have no doubt a tongue and temper as fiery as yours more than likely keeps your little tail tanned and red most days.” He took a deep breath looking over her shoulder, winking at Henry. “And unless I’m wrong, I’m guessing you’ll be sleeping on your belly tonight. I suggest you make sure he receives a large piece of pie this evening. Cant’ hurt to butter him up a bit.”
“I’m sorry, Angus. I know you wouldn’t hurt her. My Silas says you’re a very upright gentleman.” Grace turned her face, flushing before addressing her husband. “I’m sorry, Henry.”
“We’ll be discussing this later. Right now we have children who appear to be terrified, and as our houseguests, I need to assure you girls that you’re fine. No one is angry with you. At all.” Henry patted their backs lightly.
Angus kissed the tops of the girls’ heads. “You behave and listen to Missus Grace. I’ll be back with your ma soon, and then all you women can finish dinner.” Leaning over, he whispered to Grace, “I’ll be sure to convey to my lovely bride that you were concerned for her behind. But at this point, I think you need to worry about your hind-end, girl.”
Grace turned a delightful shade of pink from her neckline to her forehead, her eyes flicking up to meet his own, responding quietly, “Y-yes, Sir.”
Placing his hat back onto his head, Angus pointed the finger at the girls. “Behave.” And then nodded to Henry. “We’ll be back soon.”
“Take your time. We’ll be okay here.”
Angus clambered up into the wagon, finding Clara backside up and uncovered, and although the welts had disappeared, her bottom still had some angry red stripes and the metal end of the dilator peeped out from between her plump cheeks.
His cock jerked in response, wanting nothing more than to jerk the metal plug out, pounding into her until his seed spurted, filling her dark channel. He restrained himself first, wanting to ensure that she had slept well, how she felt, and lastly, if she’d learned her lesson.
“Clara… sweetheart. Time to get up.” He ran his hands over her bare bottom. The skin was hardly warm any longer, but he had no doubt that it was still sore. He pressed on some of the red areas.
She stretched, groaning against the pain, rolling up onto a hip, opening her eyes slowly, obviously still tired, her lids fluttering as she struggled to awaken.
“Did you sleep well?”
“Yes, Angus. I think I must have needed a nap, badly. I went to sleep quickly and didn’t move.”
“How are you feeling? Are you nauseous?” He continued to brush his palm along her rump.
“I’ve been very fortunate with this pregnancy; I have almost no nausea. It made it easy to hide it.” She quickly moved her gaze away from his eyes, obviously uncomfortable with her deception.
As she should be!
“You won’t do it again.” He stated it as a fact, having no doubt that the punishment he’d meted out was enough to discourage her from hiding anything from him again.
“No, Sir. I won’t.”
“Roll onto your tummy. I want a closer look at your backside.” When she furrowed her eyebrows and hesitated in obeying, Angus dipped his chin. “Do you think defying me is what you wish to do right now?”
“N-no, Sir.”
“Then do as you’re told. Now.” She rolled onto her belly, resting her head on her arms.
Angus shook his head; you wouldn’t think after the spanking she’d received this morning that she’d hesitate in obeying. He couldn’t help but smile to himself. They’d probably have the most stubborn, strong-willed child born. It almost scared him to think about the struggles of raising a child with two bullheaded and cantankerous parents.
He pressed and poked her bottom. Her hips shifted to avoid his jabbing. Angus tapped the metal flange peeking out from between her buttocks.
Clara jumped, squeezing her cheeks tightly. “Don’t.”
Angus swatted her thigh, not too hard, but enough to make her stiffen. “You don’t get to tell me that.” And, to prove his point, he not only tapped on the flange, but he also grasped the rounded end, turning it.
Stiffening and growling deep in her chest let him know that the plug had been doing its job of stretching the muscles there, becoming uncomfortable and a little sore as time went by.
“Originally I had thought I’d make you wear the dilator the rest of the day, but instead I think I’ll take it out and press my cock into you until I spill my seed in that little back hole.” He gripped both her hips in his large hands, pulling her bottom up. “Rest on your knees, arch your back to open yourself further to me. He gripped the plug firmly. “Push back on this, girl. I’m taking it out. You’re more than ready for me now.”
With Clara’s assistance, the plug quickly popped out. He wrapped his handkerchief from his pocket around it, setting it down to clean later. Right now, he had more important things to do. He reached for the olive oil, pouring a generous amount over his fingers, dribbling even more over her anus. He worked the slick green liquid into her tight channel, easing first one finger and then two into her. The pink muscle stretched, the pucker thinning even further when he inserted three fingers into her bottom.
“Angus. Should… do you think this is a good idea? I mean I’m with child.” Her eyes were wide, and she pulled her lip between her small white teeth, worrying it.
“Oh, this ain’t no issue at all. When my Rose carried our two girls, she found herself punished and plugged, and taking my cock often in her bottom—and those girls came out just fine. And the way you’ve been begging for sex every morning and evening, I think you can’t get enough. It seems, from my experience, women with child want sex more, not less. So, rest assured darlin’, I’m here to keep you more than satisfied.”
Her face blushed a beautiful pink, and she quickly dropped her head back down to her arms.
“I’m not hearing any arguments.” He pulled his fingers out, now confident that she’d been stretched enough. Angus greased up his penis, pressing the tip against her opening, easing himself slowly into her, stopping to give her time to adjust to his girth.
Clara panted, her hips swiveling just a bit. Angus knew she was ready for the rest of him when she pushed back, urging him to fill her completely. He drove in incrementally until fully seated, bouncing his groin off her bottom. Stilling, giving her time to transition, he traced the marks on her bottom with his finger. He loved seeing the tattoos of his handiwork, enjoyed looking at them until they faded days later.
Gripping her hips tightly, he pulled out slowly, adding more oil to ease the friction of his movement. Reaching under her, he pinched her nipples, plucking and pulling on them, her hips unable to hold still against the increase in her arousal. “Rub your clit; make yourself come, Clara.”
She didn’t hesitate, her arm working furiously, her back heaving with her heavy breathing. Intermittently she would mewl and whine, reaching for her orgasm.
Angus knew he was interrupting her flow by pinching a nipple, slapping her hip, or pounding her ass in a non-rhythmic fashion, but he wanted to delay her release knowing it would be earth-shattering.
“Angus… I have to… Pleeeeeeeease, let me.”
He hid his smile from her and kept it out of his voice, but he found her begging adorable, and it increased his sense of domination.
“Yes, you may come, girl.” He pistoned into her, holding her hips tightly to him, the slapping of their
flesh the only sound filling the little wagon. He plucked her nipple, clenching his buttocks, releasing his seed into her. With each thrust, streams of semen filled her dark channel, and he growled with every spurt.
“Oh… Oh, God!” Clara squeezed his cock in a vice-like hold, her hot, slick walls enveloping him in her warm flow of juices.
After squirting the last of his cum into her, he slid slowly out, easing her down onto her side. “Let me wipe you up, girl.”
Once he’d cleaned her, wiping any excess oil off her skin, he curled up next to her, holding her back to his front. He wrapped his arm around her belly, rubbing his hand where their new baby lay cocooned, sound asleep and safe. “I can’t believe you’re carrying my baby. Do you have a feeling if it’s a boy or a girl? Women know those things sometimes.”
“This pregnancy feels different than the girls. I was very sick most of the day with them; I’m not sick at all with this pregnancy. I’m kind of hoping it’s a boy… would you like a boy, Angus?” Her voice was timid and almost sounded fearful.
Is she afraid?
“Are you thinking I won’t want a baby boy?” Angus leaned forward so he could see her face better—he needed to judge her reaction for himself.
“Well… I did wonder. I mean, you lost your two girls, and I thought that maybe you wanted to have another girl. A girl that was… your own.”
“Clara, look at me.” He waited until her eyes met his. “You listening?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Yes, I lost my two girls. But as far as I’m concerned, God gave me two more—our two girls in that house over yonder.” He pointed toward Henry and Grace’s house. “Making me an apple pie as we speak. Now, if I receive another girl, I’ll be happy. But, if I can have a son, I’ll be just as happy. I’ve learned to cherish all life; things like it’s a boy or girl don’t hold the same meaning for me. I cherish all life and all memories—good or bad. Is that clear?”
The Renegade's Captive (The Widow Wagon Book 4) Page 10