“I don’t know; let me get him in the wagon and you climb in the back. We need to get him to town as quickly as possible. He’s got a head wound. Tear off a piece of your petticoat and bind it, applying pressure.”
Grace climbed up into the back of the wagon and took the boy’s head in her lap as she tore a large piece of fine lawn from beneath her skirt, pressing it to the large cut on his scalp.
Jonah got in and cracked the reins, sending the horses charging toward town. Pulling up in front of Dr. Martin’s office, he quickly jumped over the seat and helped Grace move the boy to the edge of the wagon before bounding down and picking him up in his arms. Grace managed to get to the door before him and opened it, yelling for the doctor.
“What happened?”
“We were on our way to the wharf and he ran out of the woods, right into the wagon, hitting his head on the brake handle,” Jonah explained, wrapping an arm around Grace who was shaking like a leaf.
“Will he be all right?” she asked tearfully.
“I don’t know, has he spoken?”
“He was mumbling something about needing to see the marshal right away, but not making much sense,” she said worriedly.
“Johnny, Johnny, can you hear me? It’s Doc Martin.”
Johnny opened his eyes and stared for a moment before closing them again.
“Well at least that’s something,” the doctor sighed. “You two go along, I’ll tend to him.”
“Let us know if he needs anything, and of course I’ll be responsible for the bill,” Jonah said. “I’d stay but we need to get to the wharf. Sam’s in-laws are coming in on The Mystic Maiden for the wedding.”
“I understand.”
Just as Jonah began ushering Grace to the door, a thin voice called out, “Wait”.
“What is it, son?” Jonah asked, returning to the examination table.
“You have to go to the marshal right away,” he rasped out. “I saw some bad men taking Mr. Jordon and the lady with the funny hat into the old barn out by the swimming hole. One of the men is the one that asked me to tell Mr. Jordon the marshal wanted to see him. I think they were lying. I think they are going to hurt them and the lady is really pretty ‘cept for that hat. You have to help them,” he finished with a sigh before passing out again.
“Jesus,” Jonah said, rushing toward the door. “You stay with the boy, Grace. I’ll get Cole.”
“Be careful,” she called after him as he tore across the street. “What can I do to help, doctor?” she asked, pushing up her sleeves. Five minutes later she looked up and saw Jonah, Cole and two other men race by the doctor’s window, headed out of town.
It was all she could do to concentrate on helping the doctor stitch Johnny’s wound closed. People she loved were in danger and there wasn’t a damn thing she could do about it. Somehow this had to do with Horace and while she was a Christian woman, she couldn’t help but wish Effie had killed the son of a bitch when she had the chance.
Chapter Fifteen
The first thing Effie noticed about Horace Remington when she and Sam were shoved roughly into the barn was that despite his pale, wane appearance he still had his evil, smarmy smile.
“Well, well, well, retribution day has finally arrived,” he sneered, looking her over from a chair positioned near one of the two still standing walls. “My only regret is that dear Grace isn’t here to witness the events I have planned for you. I understand she’s married,” he drawled. “I hope that Pinkerton man is using her roughly as she deserves.”
“So sorry to disappoint you, Horace,” Effie said with a smile. “Grace is well loved, not well used. Her husband Jonah is a real man, one who does not need to use violence to get a woman into his bed.”
“Shut up,” Horace roared, charging toward her, his eyes wild. “You’re nothing but a slut who’s always thought she was above her station. Look at that hat,” he snarled. “It just proves my point, you’re tasteless and vulgar.”
“Clothes don’t make the person, Horace. If they did then all the money your mother spent on your wardrobe would have produced a decent human being, instead of a useless piece of crap like you,” she said sweetly.
The men couldn’t help but snicker and Horace turned on them in fury.
“You think she’s funny, do you?” he roared, nearly crazy with rage.
“No, boss.”
Turning back to Effie, Horace raised his hand to slap her and Sam bent and head butted him in the gut. With a grunt, he watched Horace double over in pain.
“Keep your filthy hands off her,” he spat, before the two men grabbed him.
Struggling to regain his breath, Horace glared at Effie and then smiled.
“Get rid of him,” he ordered.
“No,” Effie screamed and rushed at Horace as one of the men raised his gun above Sam’s head.
In a second, Horace grabbed her wrist and began dragging her to a wooden beam.
“On second thought, don’t knock him out. I want him to see her suffer,” he said in a singsong voice that made her nerves stand on end. “Strip her and tie her to this beam,” he ordered, picking up a vicious looking whip. “By the time I’m through with her there won’t be much left, so let’s let him enjoy the sight of her naked body while he can, shall we?”
“You touch one hair on her head and I’ll kill you with my bare hands, Remington,” Sam responded in a deadly voice. When a gun poked him in the back he flinched, but never took his eyes off Horace.
“Now, now, let’s not be hasty here,” Horace drawled, laying a finger aside his chin. “Perhaps you boys would like to make use of her before I whip her bloody. I’m sure I’d enjoy watching that.”
“Um, no thanks, boss. I’d just like to get this over with so I can collect my money.”
“Then strip her!” he screamed, shaking with rage.
“If you don’t mind, I’ll take my own clothes off, thank you,” Effie insisted coolly.
“By all means, perform your little strip tease. If you’re thinking to entice me into changing my mind, you’re wasting your time.”
“Horace, I’d sooner entice the Devil himself,” Effie replied calmly, slowly untying the ribbons under her chin. As she removed her bonnet, it slipped from her fingers and she stuffed her hand into the crown to catch it.
“Oh, that was close. I’d hate to get my masterpiece dirty, unless of course it was with your blood and guts, Horace,” she sighed, straightening and sticking her gun into his side. “Let’s see now, the last time I shot you in the other side didn’t I. Perhaps you’d like to have a matching hole right here,” she cried, pushing harder. “Please don’t upset me, Horace. I already despise you and could cheerfully move this little gem higher and blow your brains all over your friends.”
“Shoot him,” Horace screamed, his face quickly losing all color as he nodded at Sam.
Effie heard a gun cock.
“Gentlemen, you should consider your options,” she suggested reasonably. “If you shoot my lover, I will most assuredly dispatch this worm you call a boss with the utmost urgency and I might add, great enjoyment. You will be out of a job, with no money forthcoming and charged with murder. On the other hand, you could surrender all of your weapons, and leave quietly, taking this ridiculous piece of trash with you, in which case you can force him to pay you in any way you choose. Oh, and in appreciation of my generosity and patience with you, you could make your methods very painful and um, messy. Yes, messy is a good word.
“As you can see, our Horace here is not a very brave man except when it comes to hurting women, so you should have a relatively easy time getting him to comply with your demands, mores the pity. You have five seconds,” she dictated.
All three men immediately unbuckled their gun belts and let them drop to the floor. Moving quickly, they snatched the screaming Horace as soon as she stepped back, still keeping her gun pointed directly at him. Yanking him to the sagging barn door, they opened it only to come face to face with the marshal an
d three other men armed with shotguns.
Effie sagged, her entire body beginning to shake violently as Sam rushed to her and pulled her to his chest as she was sinking to her knees. Holding her tight, he kissed her face over and over while whispering reassuring words of praise. Hugging him back, she didn’t realize she still had the gun in her hand until Cole approached.
“I’ll take that gun now, Miss Lane,” he said kindly.
“No,” she replied, brushing the tears from her cheeks.
“Miss Lane, I appreciate what you were able to do here today but…”
“The gun is hers, Cole,” Sam said firmly, keeping an arm around her as he guided her to the door.
“But Sam, you’re the one who said…”
“I don’t care what I said. It’s Effie’s gun and she knows how to use it,” he continued, kissing her head as they walked.
“All right, if you want your wife toting a pistol, I guess that’s up to you,” Cole replied shaking his head.
“Sam, my hat,” Effie cried, sliding to a stop.
Sam returned to the spot she’d dropped it, picked it up, brushed it off and plopped it on her head, tying the ribbons snuggly.
“If my wife wants to have a six gun on each hip, another in her boot and a derringer hidden in her hat, she can,” he said firmly before taking her arm and escorting her to the carriage.
Effie grinned from ear to ear.
“I love you, Sam Jordon,” she said, hugging his arm.
“I love you too, Euphemia Lane.”
*
Effie slept surprisingly well considering Sam did not come to her room. The hoopla that ensued when they arrived home with her parents was enough to make her wish they’d eloped. Breakfast was brought to her room to ensure she did not see the groom before the wedding, which Tempest considered very bad luck and Effie thought was nonsense.
Grace and Amelia arrived in time to help her dress and assured her she was the most beautiful bride they’d ever seen. The ivory satin dress barely skimmed the floor in front and trailed behind her with each step. Sapphire and diamond combs adorned her elaborately coifed hair, the sapphires matching the engagement ring and necklace Sam had given her. Her veil was draped across her bed, waiting to be pinned in place at the last moment.
Twenty minutes before it was time to go down the stairs on her father’s arm, she asked for a few moments alone. No sooner had the door closed behind Grace and Amelia than Sam came through the window.
“It’s bad luck to see the bride before the wedding,” Effie teased, holding out her hand to him.
Taking it, Sam kissed it and pulled her into his arms, careful not to muss her dress.
“You’re beautiful,” he whispered in awe.
“You’re looking pretty spiffy yourself for a lumberjack,” she acknowledged. “Have you come to tell me you’ve changed your mind?” she asked suddenly concerned.
“Not in a million years,” he replied with a small smile. “I hope you don’t change yours after I tell you why I have come.”
“Oh dear,” she said. “Is it confession time, because I’ll tell you right now, I’m not Catholic and the idea that you’re mother brought a priest from Portland scares me to death.”
“Don’t worry, my love, just follow my lead and he won’t suspect a thing. No, it’s something else I need to tell you, and I should have done so much sooner.”
“What is it, Sam?” she asked as he began to pace and finally stopped at the window, looking out as though afraid to face her. Softly he began to speak.
“I know you were an innocent when you arrived here, Euphemia and that I’ve taken dreadful advantage of you. You think all those things I’ve done with and to your body are normal and why wouldn’t you, as you’ve had no experience in such things,” he sighed.
“Well, they aren’t normal, they are far and away beyond the norm and as much as I would like to tell you I’ll stop doing those things after we’re married, I find I cannot, which leaves me no honorable option but to confess. Not only that, but I spend a great deal of time thinking about what other outrageous things I want to do to your body.”
“Are you talking about the spankings?” she asked.
“That and so much more, my love. I adore having you over my knee and turning your lovely bottom hot and red. Teasing you is so incredibly exciting that I know I won’t be able to stop. One particular fantasy I have involves tying you to a table in our kitchen and tasting every inch of you with my mouth and tongue, Effie. I enjoy it when you plead for release and even more when I make you wait for it. I want to explore your body in a million ways, control your responses and test your limits. That makes me a very strange man, Effie, and if you want to back out, although it would kill me to let you go, I’ll understand.”
“Sam, do you think I want a husband who will climb into our dark bed, fumble with my nightdress and mount me for a moment, concerned with only his pleasure?”
“I don’t know what you want, Effie. I’ve never bothered to ask you,” he admitted shame faced.
“I would think the cries you draw from me would enlighten you,” she smiled. “Sam, I know you’re different and I relish the things you do. Even as I cry in pain when you spank me, my blood sings. I guess that makes me strange too, but it’s a good strange and I don’t know what I’d do if I had to marry a boring man. So let us explore together, my darling man.”
“Oh my love,” he cried, gathering her close. “That letter you wrote should have told me you were different from other women.”
“Well, I should hope so. I put a lot of thought into it,” she giggled.
“There is one other thing I should tell you,” he said, tipping her chin up. “There will be times I spank you when I am not playing and sexual excitement has nothing to do with it. It will be strictly for punishment when you defy my wishes, and we still have to address your language yesterday.”
“I understand, Sam,” she replied. “I wouldn’t want a husband who did not know when to be firm.”
Sam smiled and sighed with relief. After kissing her he moved to the window.
“I’ll see you downstairs. Hurry, I can’t wait to make you my wife.”
“Sam, don’t rush me or I’ll have to tell you to piss off,” she teased.
“Euphemia!” he warned sternly, his eyebrows rising.
“And one more thing, kindly see that a jar of the white lubricant makes its way to our bedside table,” she said, blowing him a kiss.
She could hear him laughing as he climbed down the trellis.
“Mon Dieu,” Tempest cried as she entered the room and hurried to the window. “Was that my son disobeying his Ma Ma once again?” she demanded bending over the sill and looking down.
“I’m afraid it was, Ma Ma,” Effie said hiding a smile. “He came to confess that he desires me above all others and in all ways.”
“Ah,” Tempest said, her blue eyes sparkling with satisfaction. “Oui, that is my son,” she said proudly. “Come, we must not keep him waiting.”
The End
Stevie MacFarlane
Hi, I’m Stevie MacFarlane. I live in a small rural community in Upstate NY, and I have been writing off and on for about twenty years in my spare time, although there wasn’t much of that with a husband, five children and an assortment of supposedly domesticated pets.
Over the course of my life I have been a waitress, social worker, cook, sewing machine operator and a fine die cutter. I swear I had no idea what I was doing, but apparently the ability to take a wire finer than a strand of hair, sharpen it and feed it through a wire die, was enough for them to keep me on. I also worked for a very short time in a meat packing plant where I got to stand in front of a machine that spit boxes of frozen chicken at me, that was fun!
Then there was the plastic plant I enjoyed for a spell. The heat and smell were bad enough, but the excess hot plastic needed to be pulled off the parts and put into a grinder. I believe they called this byproduct ‘spew’ or some such thing
. I was not quite fast enough to separate the parts and still get the excess into the shredder, (picture Lucy in the chocolate factory) so I just tossed it behind me until they came to break me for lunch. By that time I had a mountain of twisted plastic taller than me! Needless to say, I just turned in my gear and went home.
So I must say that I enjoy what I’m doing now. Of course, being retired gives me more time to let the characters in my head entertain me and hopefully, you as well. I would love hearing from you at [email protected] and thanks for stopping by.
Visit her blog here:
http://steviemacfarlane.weebly.com/
Don’t miss these exciting titles by Stevie MacFarlane and Blushing Books!
Amelia: The Marriage Market, Book One
Grace: The Marriage Market, Book Two
Changing Her Mind
Little White Lies
The O’Malley Brides
The Not-So-Lucky Bridget O’Malley
The Perfectly Naughty Bride
A Sweet and Sassy Match, Sugar Babies, Inc. Book 1
Match Me if You Dare, Sugar Babies, Inc. Book 2
Matched for Keeps, Sugar Babies, Inc. Book 3
The Last Match, Sugar Babies, Inc. Book 4
The Trouble With Abby
.
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Effie Page 14