Effie

by Stevie MacFarlane

  “Of course what?” Grace asked cautiously, her brown eyes studying Amelia until she bent her head, her dark hair shielding her face.

  Well, you see, Hugh is sort of—how shall I say this—cut from the same cloth as Sam and Jonah,” she finished quietly, her voice trailing away.

  For a moment there was silence as the enormity of what she was imparting sunk in.

  “You mean Hugh spanks you too?” Grace choked out.

  “I’m afraid so.”

  “Oh you poor thing,” Effie said enfolding her in her arms. “I can’t imagine how you felt; finding out too late you’d married a man like that.”

  “I knew.”

  “You knew, before you married him?” Effie asked in shock.

  “Yes, Hugh was completely honest with me about what he expected in a wife.”

  “And you still married him?” Effie murmured her confusion evident. “Why?”

  “I respected his honesty for one thing. For another, I was sure it was a moot point. I fully intended to honor his wishes.”

  “And have you?”

  “Not always,” she admitted, “At least not enough to avoid a trip over his lap.”

  “When I return home, do you want to come with me?” Effie asked sympathetically, taking Amelia’s hand.

  “No,” Amelia replied, clearly appalled at the suggestion. “I love Hugh. He’s a wonderful husband.”

  “Well, I don’t understand it, but I want you both to be happy. I suppose if you can live with a husband who feels he is within his rights to chastise you in this manner you have made your decision. For myself, I want a man who feels I am his equal.”

  “Hugh sees me as his equal. The only time he disciplines me is if he feels I’ve done something dangerous or ill-advised. The other spankings can be quite pleasant.”

  “Pleasant?” Grace demanded. “Tell me, in what way? Jonah has only spanked me once, but it was far from pleasant,” she said with a shiver.

  “Let’s talk about it later,” Amelia suggested blushing.

  “No, I want to know now. Am I doing something wrong?”

  “Not at all, Grace, but I’d rather discuss it somewhere more private. Besides, you’ve yet to tell me all the details of your journey and our time may be limited, at least for today. I wouldn’t be a bit surprised if Samuel insisted Effie napped after luncheon.”

  “He better not,” Effie said with a frown. “Do you think he’d actually take things that far?” she asked worriedly.

  “I don’t know, but please, I’ve been on pins and needles for weeks. Tell me everything that’s happened since we parted.

  For the next two hours Effie and Grace related all the important tidbits of their trip west. Amelia was amazed at their bravado and Effie’s ingenuity. Before they knew it, Yvette was at the door announcing luncheon would be served in ten minutes. Amelia went upstairs with her friends to freshen up. As they returned to the dining room, both Grace and Amelia crossed their fingers, praying for an uneventful meal.

  Chapter Four

  Wearing only her chemise, Effie lay on the bed fuming. Luncheon had been a fiasco. While everyone else was enjoying chicken breasts cooked in a light wine sauce, she’d been given chicken broth with a few small dumplings floating around in it and a dish of custard.

  “I don’t want you to further damage your throat, Euphemia,” Sam insisted as he seated her. “I’m sure you know how disappointed we would be if you couldn’t speak at all,” he all but cooed as he took the chair next to hers and shook out her napkin, placing it on her lap.

  “Oh, I’m sure you’d be devastated, Mr. Jordon,” she replied sweetly. Glowering she picked up her soup spoon hearing a collective sigh of relief from around the table.

  The soup was surprisingly good and she ate a portion of it as she listened to the others talking. Apparently there was to be a dance and a wedding very soon. Things were going well at the new sawmill and Jonah was going to become a permanent resident of Seattle. He and Grace would be looking for a home of their own.

  Every now and then Effie would catch an anxious glance from one of her friends, but she didn’t join in the conversation or ask any questions. She was, in fact, quite hungry.

  It wasn’t until she’d consumed most of the broth and a few dumplings that she noticed the approving looks directed at Sam from Hugh and Jonah. Turning she saw his smug expression as he placed a bite of chicken in his mouth. It was galling to say the least, and before giving it any further thought, she picked up her napkin and ‘sneezed’ delicately. At the same time, her spoon, which now held a dumpling, seemed to have a mind of its own. With a quick flick of her wrist she sent the dumpling flying in Sam’s direction where it landed with a splat, right between his eyes, and stuck there.

  “Oh my, slippery little devils, aren’t they,” Effie remarked as she took her napkin and proceeded to wipe the pasty little thing down his nose, across his lips and lower jaw where it dropped off his chin to land in his lap. “Pardon me.”

  Looking around she noticed both Grace and Amelia had their heads down, looking at their plates. Their shoulders were shaking slightly, but Tempest was laughing, not even bothering to hide her amusement.

  “A pardon from the president himself wouldn’t save you now, Miss Lane,” Sam growled as he got to his feet and firmly took her arm. Pulling her up, he stopped at the last moment and grabbed the custard and a spoon before he literally hauled her from the room.

  The last words Effie heard as Sam hurried her toward the foyer were Hugh’s.

  “Amelia, my love, I had no idea you were so well behaved until I met your friends.”

  *

  “Open the door,” Sam ordered, standing outside Effie’s bedroom.

  As soon as she complied he twirled her inside and kicked the door shut behind them. In three strides he had her at the bed. Setting the custard down on the bedside table, he put both hands around her waist and lifting, plopped her onto the high mattress, her skirts flying.

  “Eat this,” he said stiffly, handing her the dish. “Ophelia, leave us,” he instructed the maid who was unpacking Effie’s trunks that had finally arrived from San Francisco.

  Taking the dish and spoon, Effie daintily took small mouthfuls of the custard as she watched him warily. Ophelia exited quietly, shooting her a sympathetic glance.

  Sam paced the room. Stopping at the bureau, he picked up her hairbrush and hefted it in his hand, testing its weight. Eyeing her speculatively, he seemed somewhat mollified when she began to swiftly consume her food. Finishing, she started to slide off the bed, but instead handed him the empty dish when he held out his hand. Placing it on the stand, he turned and faced her.

  “I think it’s best we get something straight between us. I do not want to be responsible for you any more than you want me to be. In other words, we are in agreement about something, strange as that may seem. However, at present, neither of us have much choice in the matter.

  “Now this situation can be as pleasant or difficult as you wish to make it, and it seems to me you are working very hard to make it difficult.”

  “Me? I suppose you think you’ve been the perfect gentleman.”

  “I’ve been as accommodating as I can be when dealing with someone of your temperament,” he insisted. “I know you have the education and social graces to be a well-mannered young lady. What I do not understand is why you feel the need to purposely antagonize me beyond all reason.”

  “Perhaps it has something to do with the threatening letter you sent me, Mr. Jordon. Or it may be because of your arrogant and high handed treatment of me last night. Then again, it could be that I just do not like you,” she said with disdain.

  “Believe me, Euphemia, you’re not one of my favorite house guests either. In fact I’m looking forward to the day you board a train heading east so you may return to your home and aggravate men of a more genteel nature. I am not one of those men.”

  “No, you are not. You’re bossy, opinionated and arrogant. You use you
r superior strength to intimidate those physically weaker than you,” she said sniffing and looking away.

  Sam studied her for a moment before answering her charge. To look at her she was a delicate, lovely woman with hair the color of wheat in the sun. Her eyes had an innocence that was deceiving, implying a fragility that made a man ache to protect her from everything harsh in the wicked world. Too bad the average man didn’t know she frequently packed two pistols.

  “It appears we are not so very different after all. You also are bossy, opinionated and arrogant. You use weapons to intimidate those physically stronger than you. The difference between us is that with me, what you see is what you get. You, on the other hand, fool the unsuspecting by your sweet and gentle appearance. You are a deceptive little baggage, Miss Lane, and I for one will not fall for your tricks.”

  “I’ve never pretended to be anything other than what I am, Mr. Jordon. Just because a woman is small in stature, do not assume she is weak in spirit,” Effie spat. “Your physical appearance is also deceptive. It’s a pity that an attractive man like you is in reality, a bore.”

  “Oh, you think I’m attractive?” Sam asked suspiciously. “Is this a new ploy to get your way?”

  “Handsome is as handsome does, Mr. Jordon. Based on your behavior thus far, I would say your personality is somewhere between a horned toad and a slug,” she offered sweetly.

  Sam burst out laughing. He couldn’t seem to help it. What a wretch, this blonde terror was. As pretty as a spring morning with a wit and tongue as biting as vinegar.

  “I’m flattered, Euphemia,” he said smiling when he recovered. “I expected your opinion of me would be much worse.”

  “I couldn’t think of anything more insulting,” she sighed sadly.

  “Perhaps a rest will refresh your mind. I suggest you take a nap and maybe when you awake you will be able to expound on my faults.”

  “I am not taking a nap,” she insisted, sliding off the bed and scowling up at him. “I feel fine and I want to spend time with Amelia and Grace.”

  “You are as tired and cranky as a child as evidenced by your behavior at the dinner table. I’m trying to deal with you kindly. Last night was most trying for you, I’m sure, and a rest will do you good. I’ll send Ophelia to assist you,” Sam said as he moved toward the door. When he opened it and stepped back, Effie was right behind him.

  “I am not going to be sent to bed like a child,” she screeched as she tried to slip by him.

  Sighing, Sam swept her into his arms and marched across the room. Depositing her on the bed, he leaned over her, an arm on each side of her shoulders.

  “Allow me to rephrase my request,” he ground out. “Either Ophelia may come and assist you out of your dress so you may sleep or I shall do it myself. If I do it, you may be sure you will cry yourself to sleep on your tummy. Do you understand my meaning?”

  Sam watched the color drain from her face and quickly return with a vibrant and angry blush. Her breasts rose and fell with each rapid breath, but he held his ground, staring into her brown eyes until she replied.

  “You have me at a disadvantage, temporarily, Mr. Jordon. Trust me; it will not always be so. You would not be nearly so self-assured if I had my weapons at my disposal,” she hissed in defiance.

  “No, trust me, Miss Lane. You will not have access to those weapons as long as you are in this house and under my authority. Should you manage to get your hands on a gun, you’d better shoot me dead because you will rue the day you ever laid eyes on a deadly weapon.”

  “It will be my pleasure,” she said with a brilliant smile as she watched his face darken. “Send Ophelia to me and get out of my room. I’ve decided I would like to take a short rest.”

  “A wise decision, Effie,” he drawled as he stood.

  “I hope you shall make a similarly wise one when the time comes, Mr. Jordon. I find I quite like your mother and would be saddened to shoot her son, for her sake you understand.”

  “So you like my mother. Somehow that doesn’t surprise me,” Sam said pinching the bridge of his nose for a moment.

  “Have you a headache, Mr. Jordon?” Effie asked, delightedly.

  “Only one, Miss Lane, only one,” he replied as he left the room.

  *

  “Molly, for heaven’s sake will you stop fidgeting and let me pin this dress,” Martha pleaded around a mouthful of pins.

  “I can’t help it,” Molly replied nervously as she stood on first one foot and then the other. “A girl doesn’t get married every day you know.”

  “Yes, I know,” Martha agreed as she set the last pin in the hem. “Now, turn around slowly so I can make sure it’s perfect before I stitch it. Gosh, I think you’re antsier than you were aboard the ship when you still had that big lie hanging over your head. Are you having second thoughts about marrying Angus?”

  “Not really. I think it’s the idea of marrying anyone that’s unnerving. Once that ring is on my finger, I won’t have much legal say about anything.”

  “Don’t you trust him to do right by you?”

  “Sure I do; after all he did forgive me when he found out I couldn’t cook, and he built me that nice new cabin. It’s just that I’ve never belonged to anyone before.” Molly swept her red curls up and looked in the mirror. The emerald green dress was lovely and brought out the color of her eyes. Martha spent hours and hours making sure the tight fitting sleeves had enough room for her to bend her arms. The bodice framed her bosom, showing an acceptable amount of cleavage without being vulgar. The color would go well with the length of McGuire plaid Angus insisted she wear over one shoulder.

  “Are you worried about the marriage bed?” Martha asked shrewdly.

  “A wee bit,” Molly admitted looking down.

  “Well don’t be. I’ve heard it can be quite pleasurable with the right man.”

  Molly laughed. “Let’s see if you feel the same certainty before you wed Ethan.”

  “No one said I was going to marry Ethan Jorgenson,” Martha snapped.

  “Ethan did,” Molly replied with a grin.

  “That man can say anything he wants but it doesn’t make it so. Imagine him coming into the cabin and saying he’ll take me, as though I was up for grabs by the first man to come along.” Feeling the heat in her cheeks, Martha set about gathering up her sewing supplies. “Let’s get the dress off you now, Molly, and I’ll hem it tonight. Then tomorrow all it will need is a good pressing.”

  “I thought you were going into town tonight? Didn’t Ethan say he would come by for you and take you to his parents’ restaurant?”

  “He did,” Martha replied crisply, “but I never said I was going. I swear, that man thinks far too highly of himself.”

  “I think he’s just a confident sort,” Molly teased. “I mean he kissed you right in front of us and you’d only known him all of ten minutes. He is very attractive, don’t you think? He’s so tall and strong, and that blond hair. Why if I were you, I’d keep him away from here as much as possible. Once the girls get a look at him, you’ll have to fight them off with a stick.”

  “Do you really think so?” Martha asked softly as she worriedly bit her lip.

  “I sure do. I know if I wasn’t already in love with Angus I’d snatch Ethan right out from under your nose. He is the foreman too, so that has to count for something. Makes me think he’s pretty reliable, the kind of man a woman could count on.”

  “Maybe you’re right,” Martha said, sitting down with Molly’s dress on her lap. “It’s not that I didn’t want to go to dinner with him, it’s that he didn’t really ask me. At my age it wouldn’t be very smart to refuse a man out of hand.”

  “Oh yes,” Molly sighed, hiding a smile. “Why you’re practically an old maid. You must be all of twenty-five if you’re a day.”

  “Twenty-six,” Martha replied curtly, getting to her feet, “and I see nothing funny about this, Molly Muldoon.”

  “Ah gee, Martha. I’m only teasing you. You could have y
our pick of any man on the mountain. You’re pretty and talented and smart. The only reason Angus sent for me was because he thought I could cook, well that and he liked my picture. Guess that was a good thing,” she giggled. “Lord knows he got the short end of the stick in the cooking department.”

  “Molly, I’ve seen him looking at you. Believe me, it’s not your cooking he wants.”

  “I doubt Ethan is too concerned with how well you sew,” Molly pointed out. “Go to dinner with him. You’ve met his parents, Martha, and said they seemed like good people. Don’t let your pride interfere with your good sense.”

  “So says the woman who damn near killed our entire flock of chickens learning to bake biscuits because she wouldn’t ask for help.”

  “That was different. I deceived Angus. You’ve been honest about what you want. Ethan just has different ideas about things.”

  “Yes, strange ideas,” Martha frowned. “He insisted he was going to ‘take me to wife’ the moment I met him. Don’t you think that is a little beyond the pale?”

  “So, he’s a man who knows what he wants when he sees it and isn’t afraid to say so. At least you’ll always know what he’s thinking and he won’t string you along for months while he makes up his mind whether you’ll do.”

  “That’s true,” Martha admitted.

  “Aren’t you the least little bit attracted to him?”

  Martha nodded, her face flushing pink.

  “Then what are you waiting for? At the very least you will get a meal you don’t have to help cook and you’ll have someone to dance with tomorrow night, but don’t listen to the foolish lass. Stay home because he didn’t ask you in the proper way. You can always spend the evening helping the other girls get ready for tomorrow so they can look beautiful,” Molly drawled, patting her hair.

  “Molly, for a foolish Irish lass you make a lot of sense. I think I’ll go and have a bath. Will you help me do something special with my hair?”

  “I have the perfect pair of combs if you wear the dark blue dress. Just promise to help me tomorrow. I want to take Angus’s breath away when he sees me,” Molly said, linking her arm with Martha’s as they headed upstairs.