My Sassy Settler (Willamette Wives Book 2)

by Maggie Ryan

  "Stop." It was only one word, and yet it had the power to glue her feet to the barn floor.

  "But the baby…"

  "Is fine," Richard said, moving to her and turning her back to face him again. "Enough of this nonsense. You are obviously hiding something. I assure you that our son is far more comfortable than his mother is going to be unless you tell me what's going on."

  Anna attempted to cover the gasp she heard from behind the hay by coughing. It came out as more of a strangled gasp but her husband's eyes flicked to the hay stack and then back to her.

  "Are you okay?" he asked.

  "I'm just cold and need to tend to your son." She relaxed as he reached to draw her cloak more tightly around her and then ran his hands up and down her arms.

  "Have you seen Agatha this morning?"

  "What?" Damn it, she had forgotten about Wyatt. "I told you, I haven't seen her!"

  "Actually what you've done is waltz around the question," Richard corrected. "You haven't actually answered."

  "I don't know how many times I have to say it, I have not seen her." She almost groaned when his eyes once more flicked to the hay and then to Wyatt.

  Richard shook his head. "Feel free to search the barn, Wyatt. If you find her, it appears that hay bale provides a perfect spot to kneel; skirts up and drawers down. I assure you that the strap on that hook by the door is an excellent choice."

  Anna didn't know who gasped more loudly, her or Agatha. All she knew was that her backside was now clenching as well as crawling. She'd grown up with that exact same strap hanging in the barn of her parents' homestead, and was very well acquainted with exactly how it felt descending upon her backside.

  "Annabelle, let's leave them to have their discussion." Richard's voice drew her eyes back to him. He was so imposing and almost twice her size and yet she had never once feared him. Sure, she feared that he wasn't about to let her shady answers slide, and she feared her bottom was about to pay the price for her stubbornness and refusal to give him an honest answer, but she didn't fear that he thought she was a bad woman or a horrid wife. She walked to him without hesitation. Richard gently closed the door behind them and took her hand.

  "I didn't really lie…" Anna began, only to have her husband interrupt her.

  "Correct me if I'm wrong, but I believe we've had several discussions about lying by omission."

  Sighing, she nodded. When would she learn that she hadn't married a stupid man? More importantly, when would she learn that that same man would never let her get away with any naughtiness? "I'm sorry. I really didn't know what to do. I didn't want to get her into more trouble, and…"

  Richard dropped her hand only to encircle her waist, hugging her closer. "Ah, so she is hiding behind the hay?"

  "What? I thought you knew!"

  "I was pretty sure she was. Anna, I didn't need to see you constantly looking at the hay to know something shady was going on. I've told you before that you can't tell a lie to save your life. Since you didn't seem afraid of whoever was behind the stack, and since I know that if it had been Charity, the two of you would more likely have either been sitting together or have come into the house, it was easy to deduce that it had to be Agatha. Granted, Wyatt's appearance helped reinforce my deduction."

  "Why did you tell him… I mean, you told Wyatt to use the strap. He already had a switch, and—"

  "No, I offered him the strap for two reasons. First, there was no switch, sweetheart. You just saw a switch because you felt guilty, even if you didn't want to admit it. It was a branch. I'm pretty sure he had been using it as a walking stick. It was definitely not something to use as an implement for discipline. Second, whatever has been going on between them has got to come to a head. Agatha is not the happy bride we both thought she'd be, and Wyatt has become practically useless."

  "And you thought that his strapping her would do what exactly?"

  Richard looked down at her. "You tell me." When she opened her mouth to do so, he placed a fingertip on her lips. "Don't just blurt out an answer. Give it some serious thought. Think about how you feel when you are struggling. Think about how you feel when you know you've been naughty and then, Anna, think about how you feel after you've been punished and the guilt is gone."

  He bent to kiss her forehead. "Think about how you feel knowing that even if I have given you a hot little arse for naughtiness, you know that you are safe and loved. Lastly, think about how you would feel if you lived every day feeling unsure as to whether the man you have vowed to spend the rest of your life with cares enough to give you those other feelings."

  Emotions ran through her, along with images of the path their lives had taken from the moment they'd wed. Nodding, she leaned her head against his chest. "I love you, husband."

  "I love you, wife."

  She pulled on the latch and pushed open the door. After removing her cloak and hanging it on its hook, she hurried into their bedroom and to her son's cradle. Johnny was kicking his chubby legs in the air. The sight of the baby had her heart filling with love. Scooping him up, she gave him a kiss. Richard might give her a spanking, but he'd also given her the most precious gift of all. Their son was a beautiful, healthy baby boy who never ceased to make her marvel at the miracle of life.

  Anna quickly changed him and pulled the small quilt from the cradle. It always made her smile as she remembered making it with Charity's and Harriet's help as they'd sewed around the campfire during the last month of their long trek along the Oregon Trail. Tucking the quilt around her son, she unbuttoned her shirtwaist and guided him to her breast. She sighed with contentment as he began to suckle. Another sigh escaped her when she felt Richard's palm cup her cheek.

  "I love watching you feed him." He bent to drop a kiss on top of her red curls before repeating the gesture on his son's downy brown hair.

  "I'm the luckiest woman on earth. I have two men who make me feel loved and so very blessed."

  "We are the lucky ones." His smile warmed her even more than the flames from the hearth. "That doesn't mean we're through with our discussion."

  Anna couldn't help the flutter that began in her stomach and moved quickly south. She was squirming on her chair in a combination of dread at the spanking she knew was coming and anticipation of the intense pleasure she always experienced under his touch. She might have lessons still to learn and many discussions to be held, but she did know one thing for sure; it was far better to suffer a bit of burn on her bottom than to chance losing the burning love she had for her husband.

  "I know," she said, looking up and giving him a smile. "But since I didn't really see her, it wasn't really a lie, so maybe it can be just a little spanking?"

  He grinned and ruffled her hair. "You are incorrigible, my dear." He kissed her again before straightening up. "I'll get the rest of the milk from the cellar and pour it up so that the cream has time to rise."

  He was at the door when she heard him chuckle. She couldn't think of anything remotely funny about going down into the cold, dark root cellar to retrieve the rest of the milk she'd need to churn.

  "Um, what's funny?"

  "I was just wondering why you assumed you'd be getting a spanking. I'd say that some little girl is feeling a trifle guilty?"

  She felt her face heat and realized that she had been the one to mention spanking. He hadn't once mentioned any specific punishment. When he chuckled again, she squirmed, causing Johnny to lose his grip on her breast. Shifting him to the other side, she looked again towards the door only to discover her husband had left. He was the incorrigible one. Now she had no idea what exactly he was planning to do, and finally understood how it felt to want a clear answer and be given only vague responses. The man could make a lesson out of anything!

  Capturing her son's tiny hand, she smiled as his small fingers wrapped around her thumb. Bending down, she kissed the crown of Johnny's head. Yes, she was the lucky one. Holding her baby's hand or feeling her husband's hands on her always made her feel loved.


  Chapter Two

  Not a sound could be heard in the barn after the door closed. Agatha didn't know what to do. Memories of her childhood flooded through her. She desperately wished she could talk to her Pa, but he'd died two years ago in a hunting accident. His death had left her heartbroken, and her Ma a shell of the woman she'd known her whole life. With her mother unable to truly give her only child the attention she needed, Agatha had begun to find attention elsewhere. Determined to find the love she'd witnessed between her parents, she'd begun to flirt with any man she thought could make her feel cherished. Unfortunately, any man who remotely resembled her memories of her Pa were usually already taken. Despite her desperation for affection, she couldn't bring herself to consort with a married man.

  Turning to the younger men, she'd suffered through boys pretending to be mature; boys whose sloppy kisses reminded her of the puppy she'd had as a child. Their groping hands on her breasts or bottom had done nothing but make her feel ashamed. At the tender age of seventeen, she'd fallen in love. Edward Cartwright had come into town. His uncle owned the mercantile and had brought his favorite nephew to Pinefork to learn the trade in preparation of taking it over. They'd met when she'd gone to the store to deliver the wash. Her Ma had begun taking in laundry to help make ends meet.

  She and Edward had gone on long walks and Agatha had finally begun to feel that she might have found the man of her dreams. He was three years older than she and yet seemed far more mature than that. He didn't whimper or beg permission to touch her, whether that meant simply taking her hand or kissing her. Her heart had pounded when he'd first taken her face between his palms and bent forward, pressing his lips against hers. Every time they met, he kissed her until she was breathless. She'd begun to have dreams of not only becoming his wife, but to be able to convince him to leave their small town. Every time she broached her belief that he'd fare better in a larger town or even the city back East where he'd come from, he'd smile and silence her with kisses. She'd continued to fantasize about her blissfully happy future until reality slapped her in the face.

  They'd been discovered in a small grove of trees behind the mercantile. Life might have been different if it hadn't been Wallace Thompson who had found them, or if Edward hadn't had a hand on her bare breast and her leg hooked over his arm as his other hand slid over her bottom.

  The preacher was, in his own words, 'A Man of God'. He felt it was his divine duty to make sure his flock walked the proper path.

  "Fornication and adultery is a sin!" he had roared. The couple had jumped apart. Agatha had waited for her love to defend their actions and to explain that though it was indeed wrong to be behaving improperly in public, they'd been carried away by love, not lust. Instead, she'd stood in shock when all Edward did was smile and shrug as he turned and walked away.

  Wallace had looked at her, disgust clearly written on his face. "For God's sake, cover up! Even a slut should have some shame!"

  Her hands had been shaking as she'd attempted to push the buttons of her blouse through the impossibly tiny holes. She'd gasped when he grunted and reached out to pull her skirt down from where it had been pushed up. After she was covered, he'd grabbed her by her earlobe and dragged her from the grove. She couldn't push the shouted words from her mind. They hadn't done more than kiss and touch each other—was that truly fornication? Suddenly another word had caused her face to lose all color and her stomach to become sick. Adultery? How could Reverend Wallace accuse them of such a sin when they weren't wed?

  By the time Agatha had been delivered to her own home, the delicious feelings she'd felt as Edward had kissed her and fondled her breasts had disappeared. Instead, her stomach churned every time the preacher leered at her. Her Ma had stood in shock as the older man had railed about her sin.

  "Your daughter is a harlot! I caught her using her naked flesh to tempt a married man into the sins of fornication and adultery."

  "Adultery? Edward's not wed." Agatha's heart pounded in her chest as she'd clung to the thin thread of hope that she had been more than a mere dalliance.

  Her hope had shattered when Wallace had laughed. The sound made her skin crawl.

  "You aren't only a whore, you are a fool. Mr. Cartwright's wife arrives on the stage tomorrow." He ignored her cry of horror. "Is there any man in town who has escaped your pathetic attempt to offer your flesh to his touch? How many men have you lain beneath? How many cocks have sheathed themselves in your cunt?"

  The shock and vulgarity of the question had her gasping, and only her mother's cry allowed her to find enough breath to answer. "I haven't lain with any!"

  "From what I've seen as you flounce around town, I rather doubt that."

  "Ma, please—"

  Wallace had not given her mother a chance to speak. "You should be on your knees praying for forgiveness, girl! Who in town will let your poor Ma take in the very cloth that clothes them when the knowledge spreads that her daughter is an unrepentant Jezebel?"

  Agatha had watched as her Ma sank down into a chair, her face drained of all color. "Ma, I swear—"

  "Swearing is another sin!" Wallace continued his rant until she couldn't think straight. He'd persuaded her Ma that the meager living she made taking in wash would disappear when the townspeople learned of her daughter's sin. She heard him grant forgiveness to Edward, as he'd simply had a moment of weakness in the presence of a 'daughter of Eve'. After an hour, the man had offered the only ray of hope out of the untenable situation: he had explained that, as a righteous man, he was willing to sacrifice himself to provide guidance and protection. Accepting God's challenge to set both Agatha's and her Ma's feet back onto the proper path, he'd give them his name. By nightfall, he'd become her stepfather, and that hell he'd told her she was headed for was, in fact, subsequently to be found in the very house her Pa had built with his own hands.

  Night after night, she'd lain in her bed, her pillow over her head to block out her Ma's cries and his grunts and groans that were easily heard through the thin wall. His lectures on the sins of the flesh evidently did not pertain to him, nor to the bastard named Edward Cartwright.

  Wallace had grinned when he'd pointed out Mrs. Cartwright one day. Seeing the couple with their arms around each other had made Agatha feel physically sick, but she was not allowed to wallow in self-pity. Instead, she'd been forced to memorize endless bible verses about obedience, and warnings of damnation for the sinner she was told she was. She had to listen to him as he practiced his sermons, his ranting and yelling causing her head to ache.

  While the rest of his flock was subjected to his fire and brimstone sermons for hours, they only had to sit and squirm for one day a week. For the 'daughter of Jezebel', it seemed as if the lectures never stopped. She became a prisoner in her own home and was no longer allowed to step foot off their small farm unless it was to go into the drafty one-room schoolhouse every Sunday. As she caught him watching her every move, as if waiting to pounce, Agatha became more and more withdrawn. The only place she found any solace was at her father's grave, and even then she felt empty inside, knowing that she had disappointed him.

  When dropping attendance proved that the townspeople were more willing to face the possibility of damnation rather than spend another Sunday listening to him rant and rave, Wallace had sold the farm, pocketed the money, and informed them that they were moving. He'd explained that God had come to him in a vision and instructed him to spread the good word amongst the heathen Indians. They'd use the money from the sale to buy a wagon and oxen, and would spend the next several months on the Oregon Trail.

  Begging to be allowed to remain behind, stating she'd seek a teaching position, earned Agatha an hour kneeling in the corner begging forgiveness for failure to honor her father. Though the time spent on her knees was painful, it was nothing compared to the pain of being forced to think of this monster as her Pa. If that wasn't bad enough, a day didn't pass where he didn't lecture her. If she heard it once, she heard it a thousand times—about how the town
speople would never suffer a harlot for a teacher to their innocent children. He'd leered at her until her skin crawled as he informed her that the only profession she was suited for was to be found in a bawdy house where men didn't care that the whore they spewed their seed into was a sinner.

  She'd spent over a year being beaten down and yet somehow, she hadn't quite broken. Though they had joined a wagon train with strict rules of conduct, she'd witnessed happiness. People helped each other, and out on the wild open spaces, she'd begun to feel as if she could breathe. Despite Wallace's indoctrination on her sins of the flesh, Agatha found her heart opening.

  Meeting Wyatt during the long trek west had given her hope. Though she'd truly tried to stay away from him, too frightened to trust herself, she always knew when he was nearby. It had taken everything she had to manage to avoid her stepfather as she discovered that she was falling for the quiet, tall, incredibly handsome cowboy. The dimples in his cheeks were prominent when he smiled, causing her blood to race. He'd bring her a bouquet of wildflowers and tuck one single bloom in her hair. He'd talk with pleasure about the animals he was in charge of keeping safe. She'd stood on the bank of the river and seen him ride across it with a calf draped across his saddle. She'd laughed with abandon for the first time in months when Wyatt set the small animal onto the ground and wound up on his rump when the calf showed its appreciation by kicking both feet into Wyatt's midsection. He'd heard her laughing, tipped his hat, and given her a smile that lit up his entire face… and her soul.

  Her heart had actually stopped beating when her Ma had found her in Wyatt's arms, his lips hovering over hers, about to share their first kiss. She'd been terrified that she'd find herself dragged before the entire train and informed that she had returned to her harlot ways. Instead, her Ma had simply told them to be very careful and walked away.