A Path Worth Taking

by Mariella Starr

  She found one small, extremely heavy trunk filled with boxes inside, which she thought were made of silver or another type of metal. Each box was approximately eight inches long by five-inches wide. They remained unopened since they had a locking mechanism she was unable to decipher. She set them aside to ask Garret about later.

  In another box, Beth found Sheriff and U. S. Marshall badges. A small leather trunk held a tarnished, very ornate silver jewelry box. She gasped when she opened it, as it was filled with beautiful rings, necklaces, and brooches gleaming in gold. She knew the gold was real because it had not tarnished. She had no idea if the jewels were real or glass, but they had no tarnish either. She removed the top layer of the box and discovered three velvet pouches.

  “Beth!” Garret’s voice carried from the main kitchen room.

  “I’m here!”

  “Where?” Garret demanded from below.

  Beth leaned over the edge of the loft. “If I’m not down there where else would I be?”

  “Don’t get sassy! What are you doing up there?”

  “Come up,” Beth said.

  Garret climbed the ladder and joined her.

  “Look what I found.” She pointed to a pile of coins in her lap. “There’s twelve dollars in three-cent trimes and three-cent nickels in this pouch. She handed another pouch to Garret and dumped a third one in her lap, which contained twenty-three-dollar black and gold coins. “I counted sixty dollars in this one,” she exclaimed.

  Garret spread out her full skirt more and poured out the third pouch. He counted twenty fifty-dollar gold pieces. The coins were shiny and new, all dated 1886. “I’ve counted it twice. There is a thousand dollars here!”

  “Maybe there’s some truth in those rumors of gold shipments going by wagon train,” Beth whispered.

  He shook his head. “More likely, it was an angry wagon master sending his men to lighten the load if someone was having trouble keeping up. It wasn’t uncommon for them to jump into a wagon, and start tossing out things without the settlers’ consent.”

  “Without the permission of the people who owned the wagon?”

  “Wagon masters expect to be obeyed and from my past experiences with them, they have short tempers. You of all people should remember!”

  “This might be someone’s life savings,” Beth said worriedly.

  “Possibly,” Garret agreed. “Let’s go through the rest of this trunk to see if we can find a name or something to identify who owned it. They searched through every article in the trunk, without finding any identifying names or marks.”

  “What do we do?”

  Garret thought about it for a minute. “Don’t tell anyone about this, not even Jasper.”

  “We can trust Jasper!”

  “Yes, we can trust Jasper. I’m not so sure we can trust Jasper’s mouth,” Garret said. “He’s still an adolescent and boys his age like to brag. This stays between you and me.” He viewed the rafters beneath the roof. “We don’t have a clue who this belonged to or how long it was abandoned on the trail before John Ames brought it here. I have no idea how to find the owner. For now, I’ll hide it up there on top of the cross beam where it should be safe enough. If Denver has hired a decent lawman by the next time we go to town, I’ll ask him what to do.”

  Beth put everything back into the pouches, hid them in the bottom of the jewelry box, and handed it to Garret who rooted around until he found a leather bag to store it in. She gave him the silver pieces and watches to add to the cache. She had only managed to open one large trunk and two small ones before she had been interrupted yet again.

  She came down the ladder carefully although her foot slipped when it got caught in her skirt. Her husband noticed and lifted her down the last several rungs.

  “I don’t think it’s safe for you to be in the loft. No more climbing ladders!” Garret ordered, giving Beth a whack on her butt.

  “Ouch! Why did you do that?”

  He grinned. “Because you’re being sassy.”

  “You like me sassy!”

  “Only under certain circumstances, darling. I get to pick which ones.”

  Beth rolled her eyes and dodged his hand again as she scampered into the kitchen. Her scavenger hunt was done for the day.

  ***

  “And I quote,” Beth said, standing at the window closest to the kitchen door, her arms crossed in annoyance, as she observed a snowfall level with the window frame. “We won’t get much snow here. Most of it gets trapped coming over the mountains.”

  Garret chuckled. “I don’t control Mother Nature, sweetheart.”

  “It’s still snowing!”

  “I noticed and this is not the worst of it. The melt off will be worse when everything floods. I’m stringing a guide rope from the house to the barns. With these high winds, the drifts could pile up pretty high.”

  “Be careful,” Beth worried.

  “We will,” Garret said as he and Jasper ventured out into the blizzard.

  Beth cooked breakfast while worrying every minute until the door flew open revealing two white covered creatures. She attacked them with a broom, brushing the snow to the floor and sweeping it out the door.

  Jasper had her chickens, and her single rooster in cages, and he took them into his lean-to bedroom.

  “Come look,” Garret said taking her hand and leading her to the back door.

  Beth’s eyes widened. “There’s hardly any snow here at all!”

  “It’s the wind,” Garret explained. “It’s swirling around and piling the snow in drifts willy-nilly. Out front, the drifts are over my head. Behind the barn, there’s barely an inch. I’m glad we corralled most of the cattle and put them in the near pasture. I had Jasper bring in the chickens because all we could see of the coop was the roof. After breakfast, we’ll dig a path to the privy and the food cellars.”

  The storm continued and more accumulated on the ground, but the high winds were more threatening. The previous owner had cleared the trees around the cabin, so there was no danger of any trees falling on the house. However, nearby trees were toppling from the weight of the snow in their branches. They would hear a loud gunshot-like crack, and then wait for a thump and crash as another tree fell.

  Each time they heard a crack, Jasper would cackle and declare “firewood.”

  They were in no immediate danger, only snowbound. Beth baked a little more than usual, treating her men to sweets. She spent some of her time inspecting their clothing and mending it.

  Jasper would wrap quilts around him and lay on his cot in his little room. He had taken to reading either in his little space or sitting at the kitchen table while Beth cooked. Beth’s small library of books rescued from the scavenged goods had grown to an impressive size and Garret had built her a four-shelf bookcase to hold them.

  Garret sat for long hours pouring over a black ledger he called his account book. His final word to his wife was they were “stable,” whatever he meant by it. Garret shared very few details when it came to their finances considering it his business as the head of household. Beth was not inclined to ask for details because her father had believed the same thing. It was not a wife’s business to know.

  Beth worried every time her husband or Jasper left the confines of the cabin to brave the winter cold. Nevertheless, even during winter storms, there were chores to be done and animals to attend.

  The blizzard lasted three days and then the clean up began. Beth watched from the windows as her men struggled with dragging and piling broken limbs to be cut and chopped into firewood. They had not lost any animals including cattle and for that they were grateful.

  Week after week, winter forged on. Freezing storms were followed by sun and mud. Endless mud was tracked into the cabin and onto her clean floors. It was a thick mud. It stuck to their boots and their clothing. Beth used an old leather belt of Garret’s to hike her skirts well above what was proper, and she wore Jasper’s old boots to spare ruining her shoes. She was beginning to despise mud.r />
  Garret disappeared for hours on hunting trips. One trip lasted several days before he returned dragging a travois behind his horse. It was loaded with white-tailed deer. He told Jasper tales of wolves following him, and when Beth voiced concern about his safety, he only laughed nodding toward his rifle and declaring he could hold his own.

  One trip yielded three wild turkeys. Garret explained to Jasper how the fowl was so stupid one followed another blindly. If you shot them from the back of the line, you could pick off three and sometimes four before they caught on and scattered. Although Beth was terrified every time her husband was gone, she dearly appreciated the turkeys. She was sick of elk and deer and had taken to eating only vegetables. She had been eyeing her two precious chickens with a hungry gaze.

  Bedtime was Beth’s favorite time of each day. She and Garret would retire and snuggle under the covers. They would make love, and he would sometimes rub her belly while they talked about a child growing there someday. Those moments with Garret made living in the wilderness worthwhile. She rarely thought about her old life.

  Spring came slowly as it always did, but there were signs of the earth replenishing itself. Still, there was the endless mud being tracked into the cabin, and Beth was absolutely sick of it. One particular explosion against the mud had Garret sending Jasper to the barn out of the fray.

  “Beth! I’ve heard enough!” Garret exclaimed as the door closed behind Jasper while Beth was still shouting at him for tracking mud into the cabin.

  Those words touched a faded memory of her father saying the same to her mother. She bit her lip and burst into tears.

  “Beth, what is wrong?”

  “I’m so sick of winter,” Beth cried. “I’m so sick of this cabin and the mud! Can’t you wipe your feet or take off your boots outside?”

  “We could if we wanted to get pneumonia,” Garret snapped. “Is that what you want?”

  “Of course not. I don’t want you to get sick! I want you to show a little consideration!”

  Garret glanced at Beth and then down at the footprints on the floor. The marks were barely visible.

  “When was the last time you had to go outside to the barn to milk the cow? When was the last time you had to check the chicken coop for eggs or go to the cellar? When was the last time you had to go out and bring in wood for the stove? Jasper and I have been doing all those things for months to keep you out of the weather. I would call our actions consideration.”

  “I…”

  “Hush!” Garret snapped. “I don’t appreciate your sharp tongue, Beth, and I’ve been biting mine so as not to upset you. I’ve had enough!” He took her arm, marched her into their bedroom, and closed the door behind them.

  Beth swallowed as she suspected she had gone too far. She knew she had when he went to the dresser and picked up her hairbrush.

  “No,” she pleaded. “You can’t do it. I’m not a child!”

  “You’ve been acting like one!” Tears streaked down her cheeks when he gave her a stern motion, and she cried more when he pulled her over his knee. He tossed her skirt and petticoats over her back and pulled down her bloomers. He applied the smooth wooden side of her hairbrush to her bare bottom with a hard smack, and she squealed.

  “Oh!” Beth cried trying to cover her bottom with her hands. Garret knew he was not spanking her really hard, although the slap of the flat side of her hairbrush gave a resounding sound. He gave her backside a stinging wallop before ordering her to put her hands on the floor. He waited. When she made no move to obey, he gave her another stinging wallop, and she moved fast enough then.

  She yelped and squealed, but it did her no good. He spanked her with the hairbrush until she was sobbing.

  Beth’s bottom changed from a single sting where the hairbrush first connected to a burning all over both of her buttocks. Her husband tossed her hairbrush on the bed. When Beth saw that, she thought the spanking was finished. She tried to roll off his lap, but he was not finished. He had only switched to his hand. He continued to deliver swat after swat to the underside of her buttocks. When he was done the second time, Beth knew he was done.

  Garret took a long look at her reddened butt cheeks seeing no marks that would last more than an hour. Oh, he had no doubt her bottom was stinging, but it would pass quickly.

  He laid her out on the bed on her belly. “Put your hands on your bottom,” Garret ordered. When she hesitated yet again, he swatted her, and she obeyed. “You give some thought to your behavior, Beth. I don’t like treating you as a child, but I will if you behave like one. I have chores to finish. You lie here with your hands on your bottom and remember why you were spanked. I’ll tell Jasper you are sick and bring supper to you later.”

  Beth cried until she thought there were no tears left and then she cried more. She complained and moaned, and whispered bad words mostly aimed at Garret. She knew she was feeling sorry for herself. She also knew her crying spell wouldn’t last long.

  She heard someone banging around in her kitchen and hoped it was Jasper. If Garret tried to cook, she would be cleaning the mess for hours. Jasper was messy, but her husband had an innate ability not to see any mess or grime. When their bedroom door opened, her husband carried in her largest biscuit pan with a plate and a glass of milk on it.

  Garret set down his make-do tray on the table beside the bed before sitting on the edge and kicking off his boots. Admittedly, he thought to himself, muddy boots. Still, he would not let the matter of a little bit of mud get in the way of coming to terms with his wife. He sat against the headboard, pulled her to him, and lifted the nightgown she had put on to inspect her bottom. He was glad to see it had faded to a light pink color.

  “Are you over your little pity party?” he asked.

  Beth nodded her head up and down.

  “Will you tell me what started it?”

  Beth gave a sigh. “Women have days when everything gets on our nerves.”

  “Yeah, I know about those days. Except it isn’t the time for your monthly.”

  “Just because a woman is out of sorts doesn’t mean it’s always about that! Sometimes it’s about a whole lot of things. Little things mount up until sometimes we need a good cry or a woman around to talk out our feelings. I didn’t mean to explode all over you.”

  “Well, you got your good cry.”

  Beth huffed. “I didn’t need your help!”

  “Honey, I know you miss having another woman around, and you miss Marie. Yet, part of the bargain you made when we got married was to live where I live. We didn’t talk about it, but it should go without saying that a wife lives where her husband decides is best. Once the Plains Indians are moved into the Indian Territory, settlers will swarm into the Colorado Territory hunting for land. It won’t be long before there are more women around. In the meantime, I will not tolerate mean-spirited sass. If you’re having a bad day, be straight and warn me about it. Otherwise, you are likely to get your bottom warmed again.”

  “I’m sorry,” Beth said. “Did you mess up my kitchen?”

  “Your kitchen and your floor,” Garret said mildly.

  She gave a loud sigh and threw back the covers, “I’ll clean it up!”

  Garret pushed her back against the pillows. “It will be there tomorrow.”

  Beth opened her mouth to protest and then closed it quickly when she saw Garret was unbuttoning his shirt. It was not the only thing her husband unbuttoned. He slid into bed with his wife and unbuttoned her nightgown. Since he liked her wearing nothing underneath, she was naked. He stretched Beth out on the bed and began to kiss his way down her body.

  She shivered at the attention he was giving her. He grasped a hand on each buttock and pulled her closer.

  “Sore?” Garret demanded.

  “A little bit,” she whispered, shivering as he rolled onto his back and positioned her so she was over his mouth. He began to lick and flick and use his tongue in the most exciting manner as if she were a delicious meal. She arched her back to give
him more access, and he whipped her into a frenzy refusing to let her move away as her body gave into an orgasm. He continued to lick at her juices, bringing her to another orgasm before deciding it was his turn.

  He scooted out from under her, pulled her to her knees, and wrapped her hands around the rails of the headboard. He mounted her and in one long thrust he was inside her. She gasped as he filled her. Then it was all motion, fast and hard until she was sure he would explode any second, but he wanted to play. He would slow his pace and used his hand to stimulate her parts making her want him more.

  Beth was almost to the point of another orgasm when she felt a hard smack on her bottom, and she gasped at the sting. She was about to protest about being spanked again when he began to massage her bottom and rub out the sting. Then he smacked her again closer to her sex. Instead of shocking her this time, she realized her inside parts were thrumming with need.

  Garret continued to ride her while adding stinging spanks to her bottom. When she made no objection, his rhythm changed, and for every thrust, there was a light slap until there was only hard thrusting and straining for both of them.

  “Hell’s Bells,” Garret groaned as he let go and took several more thrusts until he was completely empty. He rolled Beth over and played with her until she came again with a violent shudder. She was in tears by the last orgasm, and he thought she was equally satisfied. He spooned into her, rubbing her buttocks gently, massaging her pink skin.