He put Rose on the ground and motioned for Nelly to jump into his arms. She smiled, jumping at him. “You’ve both been such good girls. You listen and do as you’re told — every day.” He kissed Nelly’s cheek, squeezing her into a bear hug, putting her down next to her sister. “No more tears. You both find your friends and run and play.” As they ran off, he shouted, “You listen to Mr. Anderson and do as you’re told.”
Nelly shouted back. “We will, Mister Angus.” And they were giggling and carefree once again. If only adult problems could be handled so easily. He watched until Tiny Anderson turned and waved to him.
Now to deal with the… big girls. Minnie had been a quiet passenger until Daisy exited the wagon at Chimney Rock. He wondered how Daisy was doing with her new husband, Noah. That woman had been enough trouble for three men. However, that Scandinavian mountain of a man had appeared more than capable to handling her. Daisy’s personality must have overshadowed the other women enough on the journey that Angus hadn’t noticed the troublesome Minnie had a little bit too much spunk in her. He had no doubt Noah would’ve had to assert his authority immediately with Daisy, make it clear in her mind who was really in charge. Usually a few good, hard swats of the paddle made that clear.
Angus walked past the women up to the front bench, reaching under it to grab his maple paddle. He’d been told on more than one occasion from his wife that she hated that paddle more than anything else he’d used on her — well, everything but the buggy whip. He twirled it in his hand as he passed them again.
“Minnie and Clara, over here.”
They both stared at him with huge round eyes.
“Now!”
They rushed forward until they stood in front of him. “Did I or did I not tell you women — just this morning — to not go anywhere alone?”
“Yes, Sir,” they mumbled in unison.
“Mmm, I thought so too.” He rubbed his palm over the smooth wood. “Minnie, I hear tell that you said I like — what was that phrase?” He made a show of stroking his chin, and looking up to the sky, as if he couldn’t recall the words — then snapping his fingers as if he’d suddenly remembered. “Oh yes, ‘gallivanting with trollops.’ Is that what you said?”
She glared at Clara, then looked back at him. “I did. But you’re missing the rest.”
“First, don’t you glare at her again. Clear?” He wagged his finger at her. He’d have none of this, especially now that Clara was his — or would be his soon.
“Yes.”
“Nope. Try again.” She needed a lesson in respect, right quick.
“Yes, Sir.” He nodded. “I heard the rest already. You said that Clara was a trollop and that Charles might want to know that I was galavantin’ with trollops. I don’t think there’s anything else I need to hear.”
“Clara ain’t innocent, neither.” She rubbed her hands through her hair, pulling out clumps of torn locks to show him. “She pulled handfuls of my hair out. I still have a headache.”
“That headache won’t be bothering you for long. You’ll be receiving another kinda pain to keep you distracted from that.”
He walked up to Clara. It was time to teach his girl a little lesson too. “So you pulled her hair out?”
She lifted her gaze from the dry brown dirt at her feet to look him straight in the eye.
Good girl.
“Yes, Sir, I did.”
He liked a woman with spunk, and honesty was an important quality to him. Clara had both. She hadn’t lied when she fought with Daisy either. “You were punished for switching Daisy. Do you think you should be paddled for pulling Minnie’s hair out — as she said — ‘in clumps?’”
Her gaze flitted toward Minnie, who was still rubbing her scalp and pouting dramatically. “I don’t make those decisions, Sir. It would be up to you to decide.”
And that was his good girl, submitting to his authority. “Did you think about getting paddled if you fought with Minnie — and then decided to do it anyway?”
This would be the telling answer. If she said yes, then he’d have no choice but to paddle her for defiance — knowing the rule and consequences, but doing it anyway.
“No, Sir. I just... I guess I just reacted to being called a trollop.” She pulled that worried lip between her teeth.
Poor girl.
He leaned forward until they were nose-to-nose. “As you should have. You don’t let anyone call you a trollop.” He chucked her under the chin, winking before he walked away. “Good girl.”
“Now, Miss Minnie.” He stood in front of her now. “You appear to have quite a list of infractions, it seems. Name-calling, instigating a fight, and the worst of them all, separating yourself from the women. Oh, and not coming when you were called. That’s quite a list, don’t ya think?”
“I guess.”
“I guess so too. When you ran off, did you think about the rule I’d given just this morning?” He’d be anxious to see what her answer was. It would be telling.
“I reckon… I don’t want to say.”
He narrowed his eyes. “Guess that’s my answer then. I’ll take that as a yes. Bad girl.” He placed his paddle on the gate, picking Minnie up by the waist, resting her on her belly so her hips were at the edge. “Pull your skirts up so only your drawers are exposed.”
A low whine came from her, but her hands came back, slowly dragging up the several layers of cloth, her fingers struggling to get all the layers gathered into her small hands.
Once they were pulled up, he pushed the material further up her back, resting the paddle on her bottom. Her pristine white flesh shown through thin cotton pantaloons embellished with little pink bows and ribbons. He swore the material looked wet near her quim. She wouldn’t be the first woman to drench her pussy in anticipation of a punishment.
“Now, we’ll talk.” He slapped her bottom, and she groaned in response. “There have been terrible stories of people lost, or killed on these trails. I hear tell that recently a woman disappeared — and it turned out she’d been snatched by the Shoshone. She’s still there as a squaw to the Chief of that tribe. Is that what you were wanting, Miss Minnie?”
“No, Sir.” He swatted each thigh twice, hard, and she cried out at each slap.
“She’s the lucky one. Many are just killed and left for the buzzards or wolves, their scalps hanging on poles. You thought it hurt to get clumps taken out? Imagine having your scalp cut off.” He gave her several hard swats to the crest of her bottom — first left, then right, then the center.
“Oh no! I’m sorry!” She reached back, trying to cover her bottom.
“And there are stories of women captured by renegades who steal women from the trail so they can obtain money for their return. Most of these women are raped and beaten while they’re with these criminals.” He landed four more crisps slaps to her thighs. “Am I gettin’ through to you, Minnie?”
“Yes, Sir. Stop!”
“I’m just getting started. This is just your warm-up, girl.” He walked away, leaving her to soothe her flesh. “As I said this morning, your safety is my responsibility, and regardless of what you said, I do not gallivant with women — and I definitely don’t traipse around with trollops. You will mind my rules. I won’t have you gettin’ yourself killed or kidnapped on my watch.”
“But, I—”
“Nuh uh. I think it’s time for my paddle to do the rest of the talking.” He picked up the gleaming, polished wood, slapping it against his hand to set the tone. It was always good for a woman to feel a little trepidation and fear right at the beginning. It made things worthy of remembering, after the fact. He grasped the ruffled elastic waistband, tugging her pantaloons down to her shoes, leaving her exposed and bare to both the warm breeze and the gazes of the gathered pioneers.
She put her hands over her face, quietly crying before it even started. “Your bottom is nice and pink already. You mark easily. Something for me to remember.” He patted her haunches. “Have you ever been paddled, girl?”
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“Yes, Sir.” She sniffled pathetically, and he felt himself hesitating a little. He needed to start this though, so he didn’t back down. This was necessary for her to learn a lesson — so they’d all be safer. Disciplining her in front of the women would be important for them too, something that would reinforce his words of warning.
“Since you’ve been paddled before, then you know what to expect. No hands, no biting, no swearing.” He tucked an arm around her waist, further ensuring that she wouldn’t reach back and injure her hands or a finger. He started with solid, slow swats, letting the heat and sting sink in before the next slap. He steadily punished her bottom until it no longer looked pink, but red. She began to cry and squirm her hips, trying to avoid the bite of the maple.
“Do you think the paddle is giving you a good lesson?” He stroked a hand over her flesh, which felt warm to the touch. She’d be feeling this tomorrow — if not longer.
“Y-Yes, Sir.” He rubbed her back, letting her catch her breath before giving her the final flurry of harder swats to reinforce the lesson and make it memorable.
“Tell everyone here looking at your naughty bottom why you’re getting blistered today.”
She keened low and long, taking in a deep breath. “I spoke ill of Angus and C-Clara. I wandered off-f-f on my own, put my safety at r-risk, and caused a f-fight.”
“Quite a list you got there, naughty girl. It’s a whole lot easier takin’ the cat out of the bag than puttin’ it back, huh?” He rubbed the scalded flesh, moving her hands out of the way when she tried to reach back.
“Yes, Sir.”
“I thought you’d see it my way. Let’s finish this spanking so you can be in right standing again.” He tucked her body to him tightly, knowing the struggle would be more intense. She screeched before he even started spanking.
He took a deep breath, gathering his resolve. Remembering that she could’ve been kidnapped reignited his frustration, his determination. Her bottom was a deep red and he knew she already had to be on a simmer with pain — which he’d be setting to a boil soon. He gripped the blonde paddle and peppered her bottom with a flurry of swats, that hard, unforgiving wood leaving her writhing and a screaming.
“The next time I give an order, you’re going to listen and obey! What you want to do does not matter out here. You will do as you’re told. Clear?”
Her feet were kicking up, her pussy peeking through the tuft of curly chestnut brown hair at the juncture of her thighs, as well as her pink, little back hole.
“Yes! I will!” she yelled loudly.
“See that you do!” He gave her a dozen more rapid swats, given so fast and hard that she had no time between them to do anything but wag her head back and forth as she cried.
While she sobbed in obvious despair, he continued. “And these last five are for not coming when you were called.”
He laid down those five strokes just as hard and fast, though this time all of them were to her thighs. Her feet fluttered frantically as if she meant to swim away from him. When he stopped, she lay sobbing forlornly upon the gate. Her face rested upon weathered, gray wood wet with a puddle of her own tears.
He walked past the women, paddle in hand, returning it to its rightful place up front. Once he returned to her side, he patted her bottom before yanking the pantaloons back up over her well-spanked bottom, pulling the skirts back down, and helping her off the gate. He kept his hands around her waist until her wobbly legs found their strength again.
“You okay?” He tilted his head to look her in the eye.
“Yes, Sir. I’ll be good. I promise.” He pulled her to his chest. “I’m sure you will, Minnie.”
He looked at the other women, barking at them. “You all go finish your chores. Minnie is excused from any further work tonight.”
The women quickly left, no doubt anxious to be anywhere else at that moment.
“Let’s get you up into the wagon so you can go to sleep.” He placed his hands at her waist to hoist her up.
“Angus, wait. I need to... I have to relieve myself.”
“C’mon then. Let’s get you over behind those rocks first.”
She stopped dead in her tracks. “I can’t do that with you near.”
“You have no choice, girl. I ain’t lettin’ you go alone.” He raised his eyebrows at her, putting his hands on his hips. “Are you asking for another spanking? Is that what you want?”
“No! I just...” She literally was wringing her hands. Women amazed him. She’d just been paddled a dark shade of red, and Indians were everywhere, but she worried about a man being ten feet away while she emptied her bladder.
“C’mon, girl. You’ll be fine.” He took the choice away from her, and like most women when faced with no options, she complied easily.
He brought her to the area the pioneers used to relieve themselves near the stream behind some rocks for privacy not far from the wagons. Angus stood on the other side of the rocks waiting for her. Before long her quiet cries could be heard. “You all right, Minnie?”
“It hurts to bend over.”
He winced at the twinge of guilt, but he wouldn’t let her know that. “As it should if I did my job right. It’ll be a good reminder for you to behave.” He’d have to check on her tonight to see how she was. Might have to rub some liniment on it.
Damn.
But he couldn’t have her putting them all at risk.
She rounded the stones, walking up to him, her face still red from all the crying — or perhaps embarrassment.
Angus wrapped his arm around her shoulders. And even though it was still evening, and they hadn’t had dinner yet, Angus knew she’d fall asleep after her paddling. “You’ll feel better after you rest for a couple hours. I’ll save you a plate of dinner.”
Angus climbed into the wagon first, moving burlap and canvas bundles aside, throwing a blanket on the hard bed of the wagon, making a bed for Minnie to sleep on. Once it looked comfortable and he’d found a pillow inside a trunk, he hopped down and helped Minnie climb up into the wagon. He covered her with a light blanket.
“I hate that I had to punish you like that. I don’t like making any of you women cry. Please make sure you behave so it don’t have to happen again. Ya hear?”
“I will. I promise.” Her heavily-lidded eyes had already started to blink slowly. She’d be asleep in no time.
He jumped from the wagon and went behind the saloon and blacksmith buildings, just to the left of the wagon area to have a smoke. The women didn’t realize how much it bothered him to have these sessions. However, on his way to the same alley he had found Minnie in, he changed his mind and slipped into the saloon instead for a shot of whiskey, and a smoke.
He’d make it back in time for dinner.
Chapter Seven
Clara felt bad for Minnie, just as she had with Daisy. She knew how stern and harsh Angus could be when provoked. And as bad as she felt for her, she couldn’t help but feel relieved that he’d let her off with just a scare. Later in the evening, after it had been dark for a couple hours, Clara tucked her girls in for the night, sleeping near Minnie. She told them to not whisper or giggle. They were to go straight to sleep so Minnie wouldn’t wake up.
“Mama, I don’t want Mister Angus to ever be that angry at me.” Nelly’s eyes were huge. Rose had her thumb in her mouth which she did when something upset her, even though she’d been supposedly broken of the habit prior to her father’s death.
“If you do as you’re told, Mister Angus won’t have any reason to be upset with you. Besides, you girls are children — Angus seems pretty patient with children. Don’t you worry about it none. It’s time to sleep. Do not wake up Minnie.”
She set up the bedrolls around the fire and tidying the campsite. Then she felt a touch to her arm, Angus’ deep, male voice seeming to rumble in her chest.
“Miss Clara, come with me, please.”
She quickly looked to see if any of the women had noticed. Fortunately, none seemed t
o have stirred.
“Don’t you worry about them,” Angus said. “I think after today, the women won’t question you again.”
“Well, I don’t want them thinking I’m getting treated differently.” She tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear.
“I should hope I treat you different. I’m not courtin’ the other women.” He opened the flap of his tent, letting her in before him. He waved her toward the cot.
She sat staring at him, while he poured some water into battered tin cups. “I don’t have anything other than whiskey and water. I’m assuming that you don’t want any whiskey.” He stopped mid-pour, waiting for her answer.
“No. Water is fine, Angus.” She took a sip, resting her cup on the ground near her feet. “Is there a reason I’m here?”
“I think it’s time we just sit and talk, find out more about each other. Hold hands, and such. The way couples do when they court.” He looked uncomfortable, as if he wasn’t sure what to do with his hands or feet. He seemed to dwarf the tent. She knew he was large, but in the great expanse of the outdoors he didn’t seem as imposing as he did in the confines of his quarters.
“Let’s start with talking about our families, our spouses. How they died. Things like that.” He pulled his chair closer to her. “You share first.”
Clara shared how Matthew had died from dropsy. How they had known he’d been declining in his health. It’d been a rough year for them all. She related how each of the girls had dealt with his death and their excitement at starting anew with a new home and father.
They continued talking well into the night, after the normal evening din of a bustling pioneer camp had long since given way to the silence of the night.
It then became Angus’s turn to relate how his wife and girls had died. He told her how he had cared for them, relating his heartbreak and sitting in that cold cabin for four days after they had died, with no memory of the time lapse. He shared each of the girl’s personalities. The tears flowed when he relayed how sweet and cuddly his Prissy was and how she was Daddy’s girl. And they laughed when he relayed some of the antics of Kat.
Cinch Your Saddle (The Widow Wagon Book 3) Page 6