by Kira Barcelo
Oh, dear. Lunch was supposed to have been served an hour ago, she lamented to herself.
Maybe the men had been too busy to bother with lunch? She highly doubted that. The ranch hands, and her husband, too, tended not to forget meals. So did she prepare lunch now or not? Was it better to fix something and claim it had gotten cold because they'd never come in?
That would be a lie, and she was in enough trouble as it was. As quickly as she could, she placed her hat on its usual hook in the foyer and hurried to the kitchen. On the way, she stopped to place the envelope containing Olivia's letter on the desk in the parlor.
If she hurried, she could start something for lunch. There was always the chance they hadn't made it back to the house, and if they came in they'd eat and all would be forgiven. Moving as fast as she could, she put away the flour and the other supplies, just as she heard the rear door to the house open and close.
"Melanie? Melanie!"
Caught! Calm down, calm down. Reeve would most likely just scold her again. They'd get into a spat and that would be that. Honestly, she knew she deserved a spanking. They'd only been married for few weeks, but in that time she'd done well, for the most part.
"Mel-a-nie!"
"Oh, for heaven's sake—I'm in here!" she called out, raising her voice.
That was a mistake. On top of gallivanting around town when she was supposed to have been serving lunch, she was also giving him lip. She was typing her apron around her waist when Reeve stepped into the room, his expression making her heartbeat speed up.
"Woman, where have you been?"
He was angry. She had come to recognize that stance, when he stood with his legs apart and his hand fixed to his waist.
"Don't bellow. You're bellowing at me," she snapped.
"I'll bellow at you if I want to. Now you'd better have a very good reason as to why you weren't here to feed my hands."
She faced him, folding her arms across her chest. "I'm sorry. I know you were hungry. I'm sure they were, too—"
"Answer my question. What was so important that you totally disregarded your responsibilities here?"
Melanie clicked her tongue. "Now that's not fair. I was tending to my responsibilities. I was buying flour and I—I went to see Janie—"
"Janie? That could have waited until after lunch. Going to town could have waited until then, too."
Melanie shook her head in frustration. "In my absence, couldn't Eli have made lunch?"
"Eli was doing his work. That's not his responsibility, it's yours. It's your responsibility, Melanie, to make sure my men aren't working on an empty stomach."
"All right, all right. I promise I'll do that on time from now on."
He narrowed his eyes at her. "That's what you said two days ago."
She caught the disappointed edge to his voice. It upset her more than his anger, which albeit hadn't totally subsided, either. "I'll have lunch ready in a few minutes."
"Don't bother now."
"Well, then, Reeve…." Frustrated, she threw up her hands. "I'll make sure supper is on the table and on time tonight."
"Oh, you most certainly will. And you'll have lunch ready tomorrow, too." Reeve paused, sighing. "I need you more than you realize. You're not a guest here, Melanie. You're an important part of this place. You're not to be cavorting with friends when we're counting on you."
Was that it? She wiped her hands on her apron and ventured a smile. "I'll keep that in mind. I promise. It won't happen again."
"Good. And I'll make sure you keep your end of the bargain. Now you march right into that parlor."
"But I have—I have work to do!"
"And by the time I'm done spanking you, you'll be doing most of it standing up. March."
The words were on the tip of her tongue. She was about to give him an earful, to protest how unfair he was, that she had been trying, really trying, to do a good job. Didn't that count for anything? Hadn't he ever let the time slip away from him?
Even with her adrenaline racing, she led the way into the parlor, her chin tilted up in defiance. "Haven't you ever made a mistake, Reeve Larson?" Her voice shook more from fury than fear.
"This isn't a mistake. First time, it was. This time it's carelessness… or willfulness. Whatever it is, I'm putting a stop to it right now." Reeve undid the button on his sleeve, then rolled it up halfway up his arm. "It's pretty clear to me that you need help getting your priorities in order. I think a spanking's exactly what you need."
"But I hurried back here. I did, I really did!" She hated that shrill quality to her voice and took a second to recover. Instinctively, she reached back to protect her bottom with her hands. "I didn't realize how late it was."
He ignored her protests. "Bend over that sofa and pull up your skirts."
He was going to do this. He was going to spank her. She hadn't been spanked in a while. This wasn't going to be that fun, little spanking he gave her on their wedding night, either.
All this over lunch! Deep down, Melanie knew that wasn't true. It had been thoughtless and careless of her. She mulled over his words, all that about her being needed and important to the operation of the ranch. She did have responsibilities, and she did need to learn how to better manage her time. Living on the ranch couldn't be all fun and games. That was the reality. She and Reeve depended on each other.
Sweet words, words that made her feel as if she mattered. Yet the fact was that she was still there, bending over the back of the sofa and pulling her skirt up over her waist.
"Now your underthings," he ordered. "Down."
"Fine!" She did as she was told. "Do the hands know not to come in here now?"
"They're out on the range. I doubt they'll be in. But if one of them does come in, he'll know not to interrupt me."
Interrupt you? That's not what I meant!
Those hungry men probably would have thought she deserved every bit of that punishment for letting them go without their meal. Melanie lowered her bloomers, preparing herself mentally.
"A little lower than that," she heard him grumble behind her.
To her embarrassment, Reeve yanked her bloomers down to her knees. Then, with his hands on her waist, he positioned her higher up on the couch until her feet dangled in the air and she was balancing herself on the edge of the seat cushion.
"I got a letter from my sister today. She's coming for a visit." Clumsily, Melanie tried to look at him over her shoulder. "She can come… can't she?"
"'Course she can. This is your home and she's family." Reeve's hand felt warm when he laid it on her bottom. "Might want to behave while she's here, though. Because your sister being here won't get you excused from a spanking, if you need one. Oh—almost forgot…"
Where was he going? He stepped out of the room and just left her there, with her butt bared and high in the air, her shoes practically falling off her feet. The thought occurred to her to run away, but knowing Reeve, he'd catch her and blister her bottom out in the open, with an audience of three very amused ranch hands.
When he returned, he was holding her hairbrush in his hand. Melanie felt her bottom cheeks tighten. Couldn't he have just used his hand? Bent her over in the kitchen, raised her skirts, and landed a few hard swats on her rear?
That first swing of the brush's unyielding back brought an indignant yelp out of her before she could catch herself.
"If I don't spank you, you're not going to take me or your responsibilities seriously," he was saying, all the while maintaining a steady flow of swats to her behind, each one more painful than the last. "And that, alone, is disrespectful, wife."
As she had before, Melanie tried not to cry out, but it was nearly impossible not to grunt and moan. He was concentrating those swats on her left cheek, making the right cheek feel cool by comparison.
Not to worry, in moments Reeve had switched over and was now lighting a fire in the right cheek to match the glow in the other. This spanking, so far, was proving far worse than the first one had been. By the ti
me he began directing those spanks to the spot right above her thighs, she lost her resolve and began to cry and shriek.
"No more, no more!" She swallowed hard and reached back her hand, only to have it caught and held tight against the small of her back.
"All right. No more…."
She struggled to catch her breath. Was that all she'd had to do? Why hadn't she just given in sooner?
"No more… with the brush."
"Oh!" Melanie saw the hairbrush land beside her on the cushion, where he'd tossed it.
Then, on an already sore and reddened bottom, Reeve delivered the rest of the scorching spanking, even more briskly now, with his hand. Despite himself, he had to grin at the sight of his beautiful wife, who was now wildly flailing her legs so much that she'd completely lost her shoes. Her bloomers were halfway off, dangling around one ankle.
When he finally stopped, he rubbed the hand that had administered the spanking with his free one.
"I was doing better with the brush. My hand's sore," he muttered.
Had she even heard him? Melanie would have fallen off the couch in her mad scramble to get off the cushion, had he not caught her by the waist and righted her onto her feet. His heart softened, seeing her still crying and gingerly holding her bottom, at the same time hopping from one foot to the other.
"I don't think anyone will come in, but you might want to cover up just in case they do." He tucked his hat back on his head, and seeing her sniffling, gave her his handkerchief for her to blow her nose and dry her tears. "I'll be back later. Now I want you to go upstairs to the bedroom, and don't you come out until you think about what we talked about."
"But I have w-work to d-do." Melanie was still trying to catch her breath.
"Upstairs, darlin'. Now. That's an order." Softly spoken, but it was indeed an order. He was fairly certain lunch would be run like clockwork in that household from then on. He kissed her forehead before turning to leave. "I'll see you tonight at supper."
"Uh-huh." That was the extent of what Melanie had to say.
Turning, she started up the stairs, rubbing her well-spanked cheeks all the way to the top landing, much to her husband's amusement.
* * * * *
If any of the men had overheard anything and knew he'd given the lady of the house a stern talking-to, as well as taken her in hand, they weren't saying anything. All except for Eli, who had been with Reeve the longest and had that kind of familiarity with him. Even so, Eli was speaking to Arnie when Reeve overheard him tell the younger man, "Reckon we'll be eating lunch on time from now on, son."
Reeve rode behind them but kicked lightly to get Twister to speed ahead of them. He knew that would set the pace, since they were all riding more leisurely than they should have at that moment. The rustlers had been spotted but by now could have already escaped. Still, he wasn't taking any chances if he could catch them red-handed and stop them.
More the reason, he thought, for him to be able to trust Mrs. Larson to undertake her own responsibilities. During the day, when work was to be done, he had enough on his mind as it was. As much as the sight of her bare bottom excited him, he hadn't enjoyed having to discipline her for something she'd been doing on a regular basis. It had only been in the past week that she'd begun easing up on her duties, as if she expected them to be of a lesser importance and could be skipped now and then. Hopefully, he had gotten his point across to her.
But there was one thing she'd said that he would make a point of mentioning Arnie, about Mae's girl being sick.
The sun was setting slowly into the mountains. Reeve touched his gun, tucked into its holster, at his side. He didn't use it often and he didn't want to bring it out now. Problem was, cattle rustlers were a dangerous lot, and he doubted the marshal could get there in time to deal with them.
There was also talk in town about the Matheney gang having been around those parts. They were a small band of outlaws, only three brothers, but they'd already become notorious for bank robbery and murdering seven men, including one lawman.
"Looks like they're gone now," Arnie said when they stopped, still mounted in their saddles. "Got away with stealing about a dozen of them."
Reeve swore under his breath. "Hope they enjoy it, 'cause that's the last dozen they'll see from this ranch."
"There's a man you can hire for this," Eli told him. "A detective. Comes around sometimes but he's really from Old Pike Mountain. He'll catch 'em…or kill 'em for you."
Reeve shrugged. "Might be worth hiring him," he said grimly. "We'll see. What's the man's name?"
"Forest Parrish."
"Huh, Parrish," Reeve echoed the name with disdain.
He'd heard about the man. Parrish was said to be as bad as some of the rustlers and gangs he arrested or killed. Most of the time, he'd go with the second option. He was a self-appointed judge and jury, as well as having something of a dangerous past, from what Reeve had heard.
"He's good with a gun." Arnie chuckled. "From what I hear, he might be better than the marshal."
"That's what I heard, too." Clicking his tongue as a signal for his horse to turn, Reeve went on, "I'll have to think about how much I want his kind on my property."
"His kind might save the ranch," Eli pointed out.
Yet the men dropped the subject and rode back in the direction of the house, where Mrs. Larson was busily preparing supper.
* * * * *
Whatever sickness had ailed Janie struck Melanie within three days, though at first she'd tried to ignore it.
It had begun that morning with a lightheaded sensation and a queasy stomach, along with a feverish feeling that had come over her from the moment she awakened. Her mistake was in not saying a word about it. If she ignored it, she decided, it would go away on its own. She wasn't about to complain or confine herself to bed when there was work to be done.
"You doing all right, Mrs. Larson?" Arnie asked the question just as he caught her in the kitchen.
Another second later and she would have toppled to the floor, with the breakfast plates in her hands going down with her. Reeve, rising from his seat at the other end of the table, looked up with concern.
"I'm fine, just lost my balance." She forced a smile. "Thanks, Arnie."
"You sure you're all right, honey?" Reeve didn't seem convinced. "You're a little pale this morning. Doesn't she look pale to you?"
"She does," Eli admitted. "Barely touched a bite on her plate, too."
"Janie was sick a few days ago," Arnie said. "She's better now, but she says that's how it started with her."
"And you were with Janie," Reeve noted.
"Oh, will you boys stop babying me like a mother hen?" Melanie laughed, even though the nausea kept rising. "I'm fine. Just lost my balance, that's all."
Reeve lifted an eyebrow. "Just the same, let's put off riding for today. And Eli, seeing as the lady of the house isn't feeling well, you mind handling the cooking?"
"Not at all." The ranch hand surprised her with his quickness in complying.
Really, that shouldn't have come as a surprise at all. Sure, Eli was pleased to be done with what he called "kitchen duty." On the other hand, he might have been scruffy and his language was occasionally as salty as a sailor's—when he didn't catch himself in time—but the aging cowboy was a gentleman at heart.
"I'm going to ride this afternoon," she insisted hotly. "And I will take care of the meals."
She braced herself when Reeve turned to her. She knew he would wait until the men had filed out of the house to scold her for undermining his orders in front of them, but instead he kissed her.
"I'm keeping my eye on you, woman," he said. "And if I need to send you to bed for the rest of the day, you will do exactly as you're told, or you'll find yourself turned over my knee."
Last week she'd received that hairbrush spanking, which had left her too sore to sit for a couple of days unless she first cushioned her seat with a pillow. By now, she understood that no matter how tenderly and lovingly
he treated her, Reeve wouldn't hesitate to take her across his knee if he believed she had a spanking come to her.
"I'm fine. Now, enough of that." She smiled sweetly. "Get to work, cowboy."
Reeve took the teasing in the spirit it was intended, giving her bottom a few gentle pats. As he stepped out of the kitchen, he said, "Yes, ma'am."
Do I love this man, she wondered, gazing after him through the kitchen window.
This rancher, who had started out in her life as a stranger to her, sometimes it felt that way. She'd never loved a man before. As a young girl, she had thought she was in love with a boy, but it had only been infatuation, that very typical malady of young girls. Her mother had said that was a girl's way of practicing for the real thing.
Melanie knew she enjoyed being with Reeve, even, oddly enough, when he was being his usual bossy and stubborn self. Their time alone was mostly in the evening, after the hands had gone home and all the work done.
Yet moments were also stolen during the day. Sometimes all they had was a kiss, a touch, a look, but it was all enough for her to know that this man made her feel more alive than ever before.
And she did fine that day, until she was on Jimmy's back and nearly fell getting out of the saddle. At this point, she rode well enough. She was no novice, at least not as much as when she'd first arrived. She had pushed through her fear and was more at home with the horses, even Reeve's horse, Twister, which she'd rode a few times. In fact, to stay in practice she would ride every day anywhere from half hour to an hour, spending time with the horses she was also growing to love.
"Whoa, Mrs. Larson!"
Melanie had been in Jimmy's saddle but slid off the side during the dizzy spell. She heard Arnie's voice, but it felt as if the world around her had dissolved into black dots all around her. Reeling, her stomach lurching, she landed hard on her rear in an unceremonious heap.
"Mrs. Larson, ma'am, you hear me?"
Her entire body ached and the world was spinning around her. She felt strong arms around her and heard footsteps approaching, the boots pounding the ground.
"I'll take her. Thanks, Arnie," she heard Reeve saying above her.