The Rancher and The Bad Girl

by Kira Barcelo

  "You're not even married right now. Or with child. Now I told everyone you were a teacher, Olivia. I'm sorry. Unfortunately for us, Reeve has already offered your services."

  Olivia wrinkled her noise. "The nerve of that man! Offering my services without first consulting me—"

  Melanie grasped her arm roughly and drew her closer. "Don't you talk about my husband like that! He thinks he's helping you. And you're not going to tell him I lied about your—your profession. What did you want me to tell him? The truth?"

  A mousy brunette woman, as delicate as a bird, passed them and smiled on her way into the church. Quickly, Melanie dropped her hand from around Olivia's arm and returned the smile with added sweetness.

  "Be reasonable, Olivia," she implored, lowering her voice. "All these people want is a school for their children… and a teacher for that school."

  "I am being reasonable. You're the one who's not being realistic. I've never taught a day in my life. I can't do this, Melanie. They'll find out for sure."

  Melanie clearly saw the worry in the eyes staring back at her. "Don't be afraid, Olivia. Everything's going to be fine. Let's go in, let all of them do the talking. It's going to take time to build the school, anyway. By then, you should be a married woman and having your own child, and one of their older daughters should be taking on the task of teaching the reading, writing, all that."

  "Well, I hope so. I don't relish being found out to be a fake."

  Following her sister in through the church doors, Melanie flinched at that last word. A fake. An imposter. That was what she was…before.

  Now—today, that very day—she was real. She was who she said she was. Who cared about the past? She was a rancher's wife. A respectable woman. The past couldn't haunt her.

  But lies can.

  Looking around, Melanie saw the faces of the eight women spread out in the chairs that made up the first couple of rows nearest the altar. The church was a simple building, a plain, white building with windows that were open and a crudely designed wooden cross nailed to the wall behind the altar.

  Where was Mae? Hadn't someone said she would be crucial in the building of Garner Falls' first schoolhouse? Shouldn't she have been in attendance?

  "Where's Mae?" Melanie asked, seeing a woman rise to take her place at the pulpit.

  "Mae? This is a church, young lady." The silver-haired, well-dressed woman eyed her sternly. "You won't find her kind in here."

  Beside her, Olivia's lips lifted in a wry half smirk.

  "Isn't 'her kind' funding this little endeavor?" she asked, spitting the phrase back at the woman.

  "Most of it, yes," another woman replied.

  The only man in the building, Marshal Ed Fraley, chuckled. "This couldn't get done without her," he piped up. "In this town, that woman's got more money than Wells Fargo!"

  Olivia laughed a little too heartily at that remark. Melanie silenced her with a light kick to her boot-clad foot. "Behave yourself," Melanie admonished. "You'll be teaching their children."

  "I'll be married before then," Olivia vowed.

  "Shh!" Another woman hushed and glared at them, turning her seat to face them.

  Despite her sister's barely restrained rebellion, Melanie's heart fluttered inside her. True—she and Reeve had no children of their own as of yet, but they would eventually. That school would be for their sons and daughters as well, and she would have a part in making the plans come to fruition.

  How wonderful, considering where she'd been months earlier… before Reeve had chosen her from all those other mail order brides to become his wife, before than train had brought her to Montana.

  And it was also true she was putting her sister in quite an unenviable position. That was her fault, not Olivia's, or Reeve's. Still, she believed it would be good for her sister. Unless, of course, she married first, but with no rancher husband yet in sight—

  "This meeting will now come to order," the silver-haired woman, who'd introduced herself as Edith Stogner, began, striking the edge of the lectern with her hand in place of a gavel. "We're all very busy women and we have homes, husbands, and children to attend to, so let's get through this quickly."

  "We now have a teacher!" one of the women blurted.

  Her news was so welcomed, even met with applause, that the stone-faced older woman didn't seem to mind the interruption. She waved a hand in the air to silence the applause that erupted in the room but smiled. Melanie could see Olivia smiling in her seat a couple of inches.

  "That's right, we do!" the woman in charge exclaimed, smiling. "Miss Olivia Cranford, welcome to Garner Falls. And thank you for choosing to stay."

  "Uh, that's—that's—you're welcome," Olivia stammered.

  "We can't tell you how happy we are to have you," the mousy brunette told her. "I'm sure it couldn't have been easy, leaving your students back east."

  "No. Not easy at all. I miss my students very much." For dramatic effect, Olivia pulled out her handkerchief and dabbed at her eye. "But I did leave them in good hands. Like I'll probably have to do with your precious, little darlings when I marry."

  After getting her waist painfully pinched by her smiling sister, Olivia hastily added, "But until then, I'm looking forward to—to imparting my wisdom and all that to your children."

  "And grandchildren!" Mrs. Stogner gushed, clapping her hands silently. "You'll be starting as soon as the school is ready. We're hoping that will be in another few weeks. The schoolhouse should be ready by then."

  "That's lovely. Very exciting," Melanie murmured.

  Olivia lowered her voice and gritted her teeth. Whispering, she said, "I'll be married long before that."

  Weary of her testy attitude, Melanie reminded her, "You could marry Forest Parrish. He's available."

  "Forest?" Olivia chortled. "I wouldn't marry that savage brute if he was the last man on earth."

  Melanie tilted her head. "He's not a bad-looking man. I know he has that scar on his face, but he's actually rather handsome."

  "Handsome and trouble. No, thank you. Besides, I would never marry some shady cattle rustler detective. No, sir. I'm marrying a rancher. Just like you did—"

  Mrs. Stogner was rapping at the lectern again with her hand and reprimanding the sisters with a stare.

  "As I said," the woman continued, "we hope to open the school in anywhere from six to eight weeks. We do have a—ahem!—a benefactor, who has given very generously, but we could also still use more men to help with building an outhouse and some more tables and chairs. Please talk to your husbands about that. And with that, we conclude our meeting. Please be sure to meet your child's teacher before leaving."

  "Wasn't that the woman getting spanked on the back of that cowboy's horse a week ago? She's the teacher?"

  Melanie decided she would speak before her sister did. Though, actually, Olivia was staring down at her shoes in embarrassment.

  "That's a bit rude, don't you think?" she told the two women gossiping behind them. "And we are in church, you know."

  Both women straightened up in their seats, one of them flipping open her fan.

  "Just—just hoping my son's teacher isn't being disciplined in public again," the one with the fan huffed.

  "She won't. I'm sure in the future, she'll be disciplined by her future husband in private. As both of you are, I'm sure."

  "Meeting's over!" Olivia hissed and tugged on Melanie's sleeve. "Let's get out of here."

  Her sister waited until they were outside and hurrying to the wagon before telling her, "You know, you might not think it's important, but what we're doing is going to make a difference. We're helping children and helping to build this town."

  "We're not doing anything of significance," Olivia scoffed. "Does it make you feel better to think you're doing something that matters, Melanie? Because it doesn't to me. The men aren't even bothering themselves with your silly school."

  "It's not a silly school!" She heard her voice crack with emotion and realized people on the
boardwalk were staring at them. "And men have other things to do with their time. Reeve has the ranch to run. That's why it's up to all of us—the women. We're doing this for our children. What little I can do."

  Sighing, Olivia got up on the wagon and spoke gently. "It won't change the past, Melanie. Who you were back then, that doesn't change."

  "I'm not interested in changing the past. It's the future I care about. I'm planning for tomorrow. And it will be a good future for me and Reeve."

  "What about your past, Mrs. Larson?"

  Melanie had just gotten onto the wagon. Seeing the dark-haired prostitute who worked for Mae smirking at her as she leaned against the railing, she threw caution to the wind.

  "That's none of your concern, you tart!" Melanie snapped at her.

  The prostitute straightened up, her face flushing with color.

  "Such high and mighty talk from a catalogue woman from back east!" the woman mocked her, laughing. "And that's your sister, ain't it? The one who got mistaken by that rustler detective for a whore?"

  Melanie wrapped the reins tighter around her hands. Their conversation was becoming more and more heated, drawing more and more attention. Beside her, Olivia was warning, "Ignore her. Let's go, Melanie."

  "It happens sometimes. I doubt you've ever been mistaken for a lady," Melanie shouted back.

  A trio of cowboys within earshot chuckled. Melanie cast an icy glance at them as the prostitute drew closer to the wagon.

  "That could've been me, you know," the lady on the line informed her. "Sitting up there and looking down my nose at you. Especially since before you got here, I already been with Reeve Larson. Twice. That's a nice piece of male, right there—"

  "Melanie, don't!" Olivia cried out, trying to grab hold of her and only catching a handful of her sister's skirts.

  The prostitute's eyes widened just as Melanie lunged at her. She hadn't been expecting that—and neither had those cowboys, who cheered, whistled, and guffawed at the women brawling and rolling on the boardwalk. Olivia hurriedly hopped off the wagon.

  "Take that back, you witch!" Melanie shouted at the top of her lungs.

  "I ain't taking nothin' back, whore!"

  That word, hurled at her, hurt more than having her hair pulled and the prostitute's hand slapping and punching at her repeatedly. Melanie managed to turn the woman onto her back, being no stranger to fights herself. She slapped away Olivia's hand from trying to stop her and then turned her palm on the prostitute, slapping her again and again until she was knocked backwards into the street.

  Her hair and dress were a mess by the time both Mae and Marshal Fraley broke through the crowd and tore the two women apart. Mae had Melanie by her waist and the marshal was lifting the prostitute onto her feet, but even with as thin as she was, he dropped her back down onto her feet.

  "Ladies, ladies, I don't know what's going on here," Mae was saying, "but I'm sure it's nothing more than a misunderstanding!"

  Barely able to keep her temper at bay, Melanie broke free from Mae's hold and grabbed a handful of the prostitute's now completely disheveled hair. That set off the dark-haired woman's own temper, and she scratched at Melanie's shoulder, exposed fully after having her sleeve torn off. This time Mae took hold of Melanie's arms and Mae's gentleman friend, Richard, came forward and tossed the prostitute over his shoulder.

  "Enough!" Mae shouted and gave Melanie a shake. "Both of you!"

  "You didn't hear what she said to me!" Melanie shouted.

  "Whatever Eliza said, you are better than that," Mae told her quietly. "You're a lady. Ladies do not behave this way, Melanie Larson."

  "And who are you to tell me how to behave? You're no lady, either!" Melanie regretted those words as soon as she saw the hurt in Mae's eyes.

  The marshal, however, spoke first. "Mrs. Larson, you get back on your wagon right now. Eliza, you get back in that saloon. And Mrs. Larson," The lawman narrowed his eyes at her. "Your husband will hear about this. I guarantee it. I'll not have this kind of disorder in this town."

  Chapter Eight

  The marshal had left about a half hour ago. If she weren't so certain she'd end up in a jail cell, Olivia would have tried to throttle that skinny fool before he could disappear into the parlor with Reeve.

  To make matters worse, she was in the kitchen, peeling potatoes for supper, and Melanie was upstairs in her bedroom. Before talking to the marshal, Reeve had marched her up there himself. His words had been muffled, but Olivia had distinctly heard him say something about Melanie standing in the corner until he returned.

  How dare he! Olivia was so livid, she almost cut her finger while peeling the potatoes. Sending her sister to the corner like a naughty child! Olivia had wanted to burst into that room, to give her side of the story.

  She heard footsteps on the stairs, the heavy footsteps of a man. Reeve sauntered into the room, but with barely a glance at Olivia, he proceeded out the door, which swung closed behind him.

  A few minutes later, Forest entered the room. Spotting a fresh loaf of bread that had been baked that morning, he tore off a piece and took a big, ravenous bite.

  "When's supper?" He grumbled.

  How could he even think of eating? She had no choice but to prepare the meal. Even so, she was too worried about Melanie to eat, knowing her Reeve was about to tan her backside.

  "Soon," she said calmly, wanting to stave off an argument.

  "Soon? How soon is soon?"

  "As soon as the food is ready."

  "Hmph!" Forest stared at the bread as if trying to decide if he, an employee, had any right to help himself to another piece from the fresh loaf. "You were a good girl today, I heard. You tried to keep your sister from getting into trouble."

  Olivia made a face. "I'm glad you approve." She was testy enough and hoped to aggravate him enough that he'd leave.

  Instead, he stepped up beside her at the sink and grinned. Forest moaned a little and rubbed his back, indicating he was sore and tired from riding all day. "Not going to help the Mrs. a whole lot right now," he said. "Mr. Larson's out there looking for a switch."

  "A s-switch? No!" She dropped the knife in the sink and started in the direction of the door until Forest caught her by the waist.

  "Now, darlin', I know that's your sister and all. But don't be getting in between man and a woman when a man's taking his wife in hand."

  Olivia fought back the urge to cry. "It's not fair. That whore started it."

  "I'm sure she did. She's jealous of your sister. Doesn't think Melanie deserves a man like Reeve. And before you get riled up again..." he held a hand up in the air to stop the oncoming spat. "You and I both know that calico queen is wrong. Your sister's a fine woman. That said, Melanie shouldn't have sunk down to her level."

  Olivia couldn't argue with him on that point. "The sad thing is, we had just left that meeting about the schoolhouse we're building. She was all excited because she really wants to do something good. You know?"

  He nodded, his grin winning one from her.

  Why was she telling him all this? And why was he being so sweet and attentive to her?

  "What about you, darlin'? You excited about doing something good, too? Because I know under that devil-may-care attitude, there's a good heart."

  Again, the door swung open. In strode Reeve. Sure enough, he held a long switch, cut from a branch, at his side. Olivia shuttered as he walked right on past them without a word.

  "I think I'll take your advice," she told Forest hoarsely and wiped her hands with a rag before heading out for a brief walk.

  * * * * *

  "She said you had been with her twice, and that you were a fine piece of male. That was when I beat the living daylights out of her."

  Reeve wasn't certain what his response to that should be. He sat on the small bench at the foot of the bed with his naughty wife already draped over his lap, her bottom bared and wriggling. He gave those pretty cheeks a hard smack.

  "Stay still. I'm not going to tell you
again," he growled. "So she said something stupid and you two started brawling like a couple of drunken cowboys. Am I getting that right?"

  "Yes—and I would do it again," Melanie snipped.

  "Not a good answer, wife."

  "How about you explain to me?"

  She was really trying his patience. "Explain what to you, Melanie Larson?"

  Though it was uncomfortable to do so, she twisted at the waist to glare up at him.

  "Why you went to the same one—that Eliza creature—not once, but twice?" Melanie demanded.

  "Honey, I didn't even know her name until you just told me. Mae probably offered her to me that second time because I'd been with her before. You can't really be jealous of some working girl."

  "I'm not jealous! I just want to know why you had to be with her at all!"

  "Because I'm a man. Because I hadn't been with a woman at all in a long time. Come on now, Melanie. It happened long before you. That was a prostitute. She meant nothing to me."

  He felt her stiffen on his lap, but he was distracted by his own embarrassment. Reeve was agitated, confused as to why she'd made him explain himself. Did ladies—wives—really even want to discuss such lurid things? He would have thought she preferred to think it didn't happen at all.

  "Like I said… she's a whore. That's all she was to me."

  Reeve heard what sounded like a sharp intake of breath, as if she were trying not to cry. He frowned. "But that has nothing to do with it," he said gruffly, trying to go on. "You're getting spanked because you behaved like anything but a lady today, fighting and brawling on the streets."

  "Well, she started it!" Melanie protested.

  "She's not my problem. She's Mae's problem. You? You're my wife and a lady, and I won't have you behaving like some common woman."

  Silence filled those moments. Melanie remained on his lap, other than rubbing her hands against his leg.

  There's something you're not telling me, darlin'. He would have said that out loud, but she would have only denied it. Frustrated, he commenced spanking her with his hand, spanking hard and keeping up a steady rhythm. After several smacks, he heard her give a strained groan and her bottom reddened and became hotter to the touch.