by Ava Sinclair
The Marshal’s Little Girl
By
Ava Sinclair
Copyright © 2015 by Stormy Night Publications and Ava Sinclair
Copyright © 2015 by Stormy Night Publications and Ava Sinclair
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
Published by Stormy Night Publications and Design, LLC.
www.StormyNightPublications.com
Sinclair, Ava
The Marshal’s Little Girl
Cover Design by Korey Mae Johnson
Images by The Killion Group and Bigstock/Caesart
This book is intended for adults only. Spanking and other sexual activities represented in this book are fantasies only, intended for adults.
Chapter One
Gage Chandler stood stock still, willing himself not to move, not even when a scorpion scurried across his boot and skittered off to escape the noonday sun. Overhead, vultures rode updrafts of air, searching for signs of any creature succumbing to the oppressive Arizona heat. The big birds gave Gage the creeps, not that they could detect him. In his gray hat and gray duster, he looked like part of the boulder he leaned against.
He turned his eyes back toward the shack he’d been watching since dawn. He was starting his second long hour in the sun, but he’d been patient for three weeks as he’d tracked the notorious Billy James here from Texas. He could be patient a few more hours if that’s what it took.
He took another swig from the canteen, careful not to drink too much. He had to conserve his water; the day was only going to get hotter, and who knew how long before—or if—Billy would emerge.
A flash of movement caught Gage’s attention. He drew his gun and tipped his hat back just enough to stare at the window. He had to be sure; he couldn’t be rash, not after all this time.
There. There it was again. The slight form moved from one side to another. Gage’s mouth quirked into a grim smile. That was Billy all right. He’d know that self-assured stride anywhere. Gage dropped one hand to his side, clenching and unclenching his fist. When he got a hold of that little thief… he willed himself to calm down.
Use your head, Gage. Lose it and you’ll be the one on the run.
He heard the sound of a slamming door and couldn’t believe his luck. Billy had emerged, and was at the pump. Gage peeked at the slim form as the fugitive’s slender arms worked to pump water into a bucket. Billy stopped and looked around, eyes scanning the surrounding land. Gage closed his, praying he’d not be seen. A moment later he heard the door slam. Billy was back inside.
It was now or never. Gage sprinted toward the house, keeping low along the nearby fence and trough. He knew what he was about to do was incredibly risky, maybe even by his own standards. But he was counting on the element of surprise, of taking Billy unaware and unarmed.
His instincts were correct. His shoulder met the door, cracking the frame, and he burst into the room to see Billy gaping wide-eyed at the explosive intrusion. The thief lunged for the gun on the table, but Gage’s strong arms stopped the effort; he easily lifted the fugitive off the floor.
“Put me down, you no-good, whore-mongering, shit-eating son-of-a-bitch!”
“Calm down, Billy! It’s over! You’re done!”
It was like holding a wildcat. Billy kicked and squirmed with a strength that surprised Gage. But the outlaw proved no match for a 6′2″ bounty hunter fueled by more anger than he’d ever had for any one target.
“It’s not done, you arrogant, cock-sucking horse’s ass!” A boot heel connected with Gage’s leg, and he grunted in pain. “I’m going to kill you, you worthless low-life bastard!”
“Kill me? With what?”
Gage pushed Billy around and up against the wall. Pinned there, his captive could do little more than squirm and curse.
“Maybe I should check you for weapons. Lord knows what you might be hiding.”
“No! Don’t you dare!”
“You’re not in much of a position to tell me what to do, you little devil!”
When Billy let forth another string of invective, Gage’s hand connected—hard—on the small firm ass with one hand and was rewarded with a satisfying yelp of pain.
“That’s better,” he said. “Now I’m going to frisk you. So stand still.”
Billy continued to squirm, but Gage ignored the wriggling and the protests. His hands roamed the thin body, first over the clothes and then underneath as he pressed his front against the slim back. The life of a fugitive had kept Billy in shape. Gage’s hand roamed the flat stomach and then moved higher to the small but firm breasts.
“Fucking asshole!” Billy cried.
“Maybe I should,” Gage said, pushing his pelvis against the small, pert bottom.
“Maybe you should what?”
“Maybe I should fuck your asshole.” He spun Billy around, smirking as he looked into her furious eyes. “It’s not like it would be the first time. And as I recall, the last time I did it, you moaned like a whore.”
“Go to hell, Gage Chandler,” she said.
“Still got a mouth on you, I see,” he said, and pulled Billy over to the table as she stumbled, trying to keep her footing.
She cursed him as he bent her over. The button on the front of her pants popped and clattered to the floor as he ripped them open. Billy cried out in frustration as Gage jerked her trousers halfway down. He stared for a moment, his breathing raspy. Her toned, tight ass was as pert as ever. Gage raised his booted foot and stomped the fabric between her knees all the way to the floor, then bodily lifted her free from where the trousers puddled at her feet. He kicked the pants out of the way.
“Goddamn, lousy son-of-a-lice-ridden whore. Don’t you dare! Don’t you…”
The force of being pushed roughly back over the table silenced her words, and the next sound Billy made was a moan when Gage pushed her legs apart. She fought him, but Gage knew it wasn’t because she was protecting her virtue, but her pride. She didn’t want him to slide his fingers between her thighs and find the wetness that was practically pulsing from her pussy.
“Some things never change,” he said as he slid his fingers down her slit.
“Fuck you.”
Gage stood to his full height, drew back a calloused hand, and slapped her ass, hard. The pale skin bloomed with the imprint of his palm and she howled, the sound high and keening.
That was more like it, Gage thought. And he knew that despite the cries she emitted as he smacked her a second and third time that Billy wanted this, needed this. She needed him to punish and fuck her until her legs were wobbly and her tight little cunt was as sore as her spanked ass.
She was mewling from the pain of the spanking when he finally released his cock, pulling on its throbbing length for a moment before guiding the head to the slick folds of her pussy. Billy cried out and arched her back, and when she did Gage laughed low in his throat.
“Now that’s the Billy I know,” he said. “That’s my bad girl. You’re so hot, I can feel it without going in. I can smell how excited you are.” He grazed her engorged folds with the tip of his cock.
“Are you going to talk or fuck me?” she asked through gritted teeth.
It was a definitive improvement from her telling him to fuck himself, and for a moment, Gage considered shoving his cock in her ass, just to show her that he could. But he wanted her pussy too bad, and sunk himself to the hilt.
She was small, not quite 5′1″ and it had been awhile. He knew the sudden assault hurt, but the pulsing of her pussy as she milk
ed his rod told him that her pleasure was overriding the discomfort. He grabbed her hips and began to thrust into her, looking down at the back of her head. Her hat had fallen off and the blond curls she’d bound up spilled down around her tear-streaked face.
“Oh… god… oh… god damn you to hell, Gage Chandler.” But she was building to another orgasm, and he couldn’t bother to respond from all the concentration it took him to stave off his own until she’d reached that second peak. Then, only then, did he let go, releasing a flood of hot cum into her hungry core.
He collapsed on her, lying there until he realized his weight was too much for her small frame. He stood, reluctantly, letting his softening cock slip from her slick passage.
“All right,” he said. “Fun’s over. Now to get you back to where we can straighten you out once and for all.”
She was in his custody, for now. But Gage knew this was just the start. Now he had to get her back to Texas. That, he decided, was going to be the tricky part.
Chapter Two
Three months earlier
The first time Gage saw Wilhelmina James was at a horse auction in Red Horse Gulch. She’d just outbid a local rancher for the finest thoroughbred colt in the region, and turned to flash the man a triumphant smile at having beaten him. She was wearing a light blue dress and matching bonnet, and Gage thought the waif-like little blonde was just the prettiest thing he’d ever seen.
And that’s when the trouble began.
“I’m telling you, Gage, something ain’t right.” Hank Wilkins, who owned the second-largest ranch in the territory, scowled as the auctioneer’s paddle fell. “Don’t make no sense for a young girl like that to come to town with no kinfolk to speak of and enough money to buy horses out from under a fella. Can’t you do something?”
Gage had laughed at this. “So far as I know, it’s not illegal to cast a winning bid, not even if you are a pretty girl with a lot of money. And besides, come next week I’m quits as sheriff here, and a week after that I’m leaving this dustbowl of a town to join the U.S. marshal’s office. If there is something up with this gal, let the new sheriff handle it.”
“Ah, come on, Gage,” Hank whined. “You’ve got two weeks left before you scoot. And I’m telling you…”
“I know, I know… something ain’t right.” Gage repeated the rancher’s words back to him as he took his hat off and ran his hand through wavy brown hair that just grazed the collar of his shirt. “I tell you what I’ll do, Hank. If it’ll make you feel any better, I’ll go over to the boardinghouse later today and have a chat with her, just to find out where she’s from, just so I can put your mind at ease. But that don’t mean she’s done a thing wrong, and if you go stirring up trouble I’m going to be mad at you and not her, you got that?”
Hank nodded. “I just want you to check her out.”
Gage shook his head and laughed. Truth be known, he was more than happy to find any reason to get a closer look at the little blonde. And Hank was right. It was out of order for a girl who looked barely old enough to be on her own to be throwing that kind of money around. Gage had been in the saloon when the boardinghouse owner had come in for his afternoon shot of whiskey, and he’d overheard the man telling the barkeep that it had taken three big men to unload the little lady’s trunks from the stagecoach.
“My wife said she ain’t never seen such fine clothes. We figured her for a lady, but she won’t say where she come from, only said she was passin’ through.”
Now that Gage thought about it, why would a woman just passing through be buying horses? He furrowed his brow as he watched the pretty, petite stranger pay for the horse—and with cash, no less. She was smiling at the auctioneer, and then turned to a young man nearby. She spoke to him for a moment before handing him some coins and pointing to the horse. It was obvious she was giving him instructions about where she wanted it to be stabled. The young man, obviously charmed, smiled as he led the horse away.
Gage hung back. He didn’t want to make it obvious that he was following her, so he walked first across the dusty road to the saloon, where he continued to watch through the window. The young woman emerged like a breath of fresh air from the auction house and walked back toward the boardinghouse. One gloved hand daintily held up the front of her skirt. The other was raised, the money purse dangling from her slender wrist. She cut a fine figure, and Gage wondered if she was wearing a corset, of if her waist was naturally that small. He wondered if the blond curls smelled of lavender, and whether the hair between her legs was as golden.
“Another drink, sheriff?”
He almost startled. “Nah, Gus. Thanks.” Gage decided the last thing he needed was more whiskey. He had enough fire in his blood from just watching that sweet little lady walk across a road. And besides, he was a lawman, for Christ’s sake. It was his job to stand between helpless women and lusty men, not act like one. He needed to remember that.
Gage put the shot glass down on the bar and tossed Gus a coin. His spurs jingled as he walked across the worn wood floor. Off-key piano music and raucous laughter followed him out the swinging doors. Merle, the town drunk, slumped on the porch under a window with one of the panes busted out. His mouth hung open, and a fly crawled around the edges of his cracked lips. Gage frowned. Merle was yet another reason he’d be glad to get out of this hellhole of a town.
The boardinghouse wasn’t a whole lot better than the saloon, which raised even more questions for Gage as he walked into the lobby. Red Horse Gulch was a small town—just a stopover on the way to larger towns in the territory. So why stop here when the carriage could have been in Springdale or Claremont in another half a day’s time? Maybe Hank was right. Maybe something was up.
“Hey, Mabel.”
Mabel Crane hefted herself from where she was sitting behind the counter as the sheriff approached. She had sweat stains under her heavy arms, and one of the buttons on her blouse was straining over her sagging breasts. A sheen of sweat dotted her brow. She picked up a dirty handkerchief and mopped it away, smiling.
“Well, hey there yourself, sheriff. What brings you here?”
“You got a lady boarding here?” He knew the answer before he asked it, but he always started with a polite question when on official business.
“Yeah, a pretty little thing,” Mabel replied. “And sweet as honey, too. Paid for a five-day stay up front. Cash money. And tips everybody. I wish we had ten of her staying here. Amos says we could retire.”
Gage chuckled. “Any chance of you telling me what room she’s in?”
Mabel suddenly looked uncomfortable. “Well, here’s the thing, sheriff. She told both me and Amos that she likes to have her privacy. Only she pronounced it funny, real fancy, like they do in foreign countries—‘priv-acy.’” Mabel enunciated the word, emphasizing the short ‘i.’
“Hmm,” Gage grunted. “Well, I doubt she can be too mad at you once she learns that her ‘priv-acy’ is being violated on routine sheriff-type business. As the top lawman in these parts, it’s my duty to check in on a single lady traveling alone and make sure all is well.”
Mabel still looked concerned, but seemed to know it wasn’t her call. “Whatever you say, sheriff,” she said with weary resignation. “Just remember that me and Amos got to make a living. Don’t go scaring her off.”
Gage had already decided he’d be as polite as possible. The pretty stranger was a tiny thing, and would likely be intimidated by a lawman who towered over her by more than a foot. He knocked gently on her door when he reached it.
The voice on the other side was impatient. “Mrs. Crane, I specifically asked that I not be…” Her words died away as she opened the door. Her hat was off, the loose bun trailing tendrils of blond ringlets around her heart-shaped face. She’d loosened the buttons on her bodice and now, obviously aware of this lapse in decorum, spun around.
Gage took the opportunity to glance around the interior of the room. Trunks lay in various places, open to reveal lacy underthings and traveling
clothes. A pair of stockings hung over a screen beside a pink dress. Then his eyes fell on something else—money. Stacks of it. The stranger turned at that moment and stepped into the hallway, shutting the door behind her.
“Is there something I can help you with…” her eyes fell on the badge, “…sheriff?”
“Sheriff Gage Chandler,” he said. “And you are?”
“Tired,” she said.
Gage found himself growing irritated. As sheriff, he was used to some deference, and this diminutive woman seemed to be fresh out.
“Well, I don’t mean to bother you.” He decided to try again. “It’s just that we don’t often get women traveling alone, and Red Horse Gulch can be… unfriendly to strangers.”
Her smile was patronizing. “With a big strong sheriff like you running the town, I can’t imagine that anyone could ever be anything but law-abiding.”
“Ma’am, I can’t be everywhere at once. And a young woman carrying a large amount of cash…”
“Who says I have a large amount of cash?” Her eyes narrowed.
“I just saw…”
“Whatever you saw isn’t your business,” she said, her tone now guarded and defensive. “And unless it’s against the law for me to be in your town, we have no other business here. So good day.”
Gage felt his jaw clench. She was right; he had no reason to question her. But what was she doing with that pile of money? For a moment he stared at the door she’d suddenly slammed in his face, and then he stalked from the boardinghouse, not stopping to bid Mabel good day as he left to head back to the auction house. His eyes scanned the dusty interior for Mack, who ran the place. He saw him seeing out the last of the crowd and walked over.
“Hey, Mack,” he said. “That lady who bought that colt…”
“Yeah, pretty thing,” the old man said. “The horse is pretty, too.” He slapped his knee like he’d just said the funniest thing in the world.