As the road forked toward the stables, Amanda took an unexpected turn—Pepper almost making the move by himself as though the animal sensed what she needed. Taking a well-worn and familiar trail along Smith Creek, she pulled up at Old Sally’s cabin on the backside of Fork’s End Ranch. If nothing more, she could dry off, wait for the weather to lift and share a cup of tea. Sounded a whole lot better than spending her whole night alone in a big old empty house.
“Do you love him?” Old Sally asked, after they’d set a bit on her screened porch. She was pretty proud of her porch. One of her sons had come up from Phoenix to build it for her at the beginning of the summer. She could rock to her heart’s content and not worry about the critters—mosquitoes and gnats that would flock up river in the summer. Made her feel closed in and cozy. Sitting especially suited her now. Having come some distance in her life, she was too tired for much else. Sally was a gnarled old Granny with an old-timer’s plain view of the world, who’d wait hours on end for someone to explain it to.
“Love who?” Amanda responded to her question.
“It’s a man that’s in the blues you got,” she said with the conviction of the old, and she asked again, “Do you love him?”
What a question! But having come from an astute observer of life, the younger woman couldn’t really avoid the truth. Sally would know. “Yes. I love him,” she said. “But love’s impossible for me.”
“And why is that? You put up those barriers in your mind, you’ll never cross them with your feet.”
Amanda didn’t have an answer, but Sally’s question made her think—and so she thought and thought a lot, and drank more tea, and then a little of the woman’s homemade wine. Relaxation settled in on her like a fog rising in a mountain valley at sunrise, the kind that supplants the sun. Best she’d felt in some time. She’d need to wait until the fog lifted before she could move on, so the evening simply whiled away until she was getting sleepy—and the rain finally decided to move on. Peeking up at the sky, she could even see a star or two where the clouds parted.
“Time to get going,” she announced. She shifted her weight in the chair as though she were going to rise.
“Can stay here if you like,” Sally replied.
“I have to work tomorrow, so I need some sleep tonight.”
“Then you best get on. That’s if you’re okay?”
“Ah, Pepper knows this road by heart. After all, he brought me here,” she laughed. “We’ll take it slow.”
Time didn’t seem to matter in this little haven. And her sit on Sally’s porch had clarified lots of things. Needing to get back to the real world, she ambled out the screen door and mounted her horse.
“Tell him you love him,” Sally called to her. “It’s a tonic that works wonders.”
As she set out for home, Amanda wondered if that were true.
A weary Jake had no luck finding Amanda. Nor did Garth and Jimmy. It was nearly midnight when they returned to the stables disappointed to find that she hadn’t showed up there either.
“Probably should wait until morning,” Hank said. The four were standing in the yard staring out to the open grassland and pastures beyond—though the thick night made it impossible for them to see much past the immediate yard.
Just as they were about to disband for the night, they heard the rustle of wet leaves and grass just beyond a hedgerow of trees. And a moment later, Amanda showed herself, riding slowly into the yard.
“Who the hell turned on the lights!” she said, with a hand over her eyes as if she’d been blinded.
“You okay?” Hank strode out to take the horse.
“Of course, I’m okay.” Her calm was instantly swept away seeing the scowling faces of the four men. “What’s all this?”
“You’ve been missing since six.”
“Missing? Me? I’m on my horse, I’m not missing!”
“We had an agreement, Amanda. You’d be back in a half hour.”
“So, you thought I’d actually follow your orders?” she sassed as though she couldn’t believe he was serious.
“It’s almost midnight,” Hank leveled her with an incisive stare as she dismounted.
“You’re not my keeper, Hank.” She stared past him to the three men standing beyond him. “Nor are any of you.”
There was not a word she said that didn’t turn on her. “I want to see you in the stable office when you’re finished putting the horse to bed,” Hank told her in a voice that tread the fine line between anger and calm. Behind it brewed a full, raging storm.
“About what?” She asked.
“You disobeyed an order,” was all he said. He moved past her into the stables, which left Amanda staring at Garth, his deputy and Jake—who’s wide open expression told her nothing about what he was feeling. She recalled with some regret that bittersweet conversation with Sally. So much for talking about love, the last few minutes killed the mood. Maybe later, and then maybe not…
Leading Pepper to his stall, her exhaustion was compounded by the time of night, the long ride, and now a confrontation with Hank. No. She’d be happier to ignore him and get some sleep. But with two lawmen and a maverick cowboy guarding the gates, she wasn’t sure there was any way she could get to the house without being seized by their long arms. She took her time, cooled Pepper down, and finally quit the stables, walking out into the fresh air. Jack, Garth and Jimmy were on the far side of the yard, talking, so she headed for the house.
“Amanda!” She heard Hank’s roaring voice, but she ignored it.
He wasn’t stopping there, and his next call scorched her ears, “I can fire you right now, or in the morning—which will it be?”
She stopped, for several seconds not moving. The silence was a challenge for them both; the winner in this battle would win the war between them. When she finally moved back his way, Hank realized his triumph; and turning, he abruptly retreated to the stable office.
Swishing past the silent ghouls in the yard, Amanda strode through the door, blaring, “What did you want?”
“A reasonable explanation,” he stated simply. “Close the door.”
She looked at him warily, but followed the order, declaring, “I have none. I needed to ride.”
“In the rain?”
“Yes. In the rain.”
“You don’t look too drenched.”
“I ate dinner at the miner’s roadhouse and sat on Old Sally’s porch for a couple of hours—not that it is any business of yours.”
“It’s my business when you have this county in an uproar. It’s my business when you deliberately deceive me. It’s my business when you can’t be found because you’re a rude, contemptuous bitch.”
“Oh, what a vocabulary!”
“Doesn’t any of this effect you?”
“Not in the slightest.”
“Well, maybe this will,” he reached for his belt buckle as he stood. “Take down your pants and get over the table.”
“I will not submit to you!”
“Oh, you will, or your job’s gone. Your choice.”
“You know, you are as miserable as all the rest.”
“I can be real sweet, Amanda, but I’m tired of being sweet with you. I thought we had a decent working relationship, but you threw that in my face tonight. I’ve placated you, felt sorry for you, held my tongue a dozen times to spare your feelings, but I’m not going to now. I’m going to speak with my belt and you’re going to listen. Now get moving.” He pointed to the desk and she stared at it mesmerized by the emotion Hank Devlin poured out.
They were standing so close she could feel him breathing—as though his breath was going to blow her down.
“How dare you!” the only words she could spit out, though she managed to speak freely with the palm of her hand as it came from out of nowhere, landing on Hank’s cheek with a mean thwack!
To her utter shock, Hank smacked her back, stinging her left cheek with a force that took her completely off guard and made her stumble, as it
turned out, right into Hank’s firm arms. Then as though she were little more than a sack of potatoes, he pushed her over the edge of his desk, withdrew his belt, and began laying it on her pushed out behind. Ten smacks down the road, he stopped, just long enough to yank her pants to her knees.
By then, she wasn’t fighting him anymore. He was too big, too strong, too damned determined. She had no choice but to surrender to those odds.
He warmed her skin with a staccato of steady smacks—each one delivered with a good deal of power. Hank didn’t care much for style, form, or what it looked like. He certainly wasn’t looking for the thrills he’d get with Midge. This lesson would be short and sweet, and quickly over in about three minutes. In that time he’d make sure that she felt every bit of fire he felt inside.
Amanda held her tongue for as long as she could. And yet, this savage attack was so intense and so strident that she couldn’t hold out forever. As the fury of emotion rose and fell, so too did her agitation and the raging pain. “Yeeeeeouch! Goddammit!” she finally cried, as her red ass wriggled, and her bare pussy pressed into the hard edge of the wood. “Good, lord, that’s got to be enough!”
“Enough’s when I say enough!” Hank’s retort came back harshly. He continued with the blast, raising and lowering his aim so that her entire behind felt his wrath. And then as he danced the belt up and down her ass, he began his lecture. “Let’s get a few things clear, Amanda Plover. I’m in charge of this stable, and you crossed a line tonight. You work for me; I don’t work for you. You let me know when you’re out riding. You let me know when you’re going to return. You don’t go taking off for half the night then pretend that nothing’s wrong.” He punched the belt with additional fervor as his speech went on, then punctuated his final statement with one last particularly mean strike. “Is that clear?”
“Yes, yes it is,” she said. Sensing that he’d actually finished, she stood facing the impassioned cowboy. His face was immovable. This was just too much. Too many men. Too much anger. Too much fear. When would it ever end?
“Good,” he said, and with his eyes as narrowed and intense as she’d ever seen them, he added his final attack, “you do everything in your power to piss people off and then cry foul when someone worries about you. You had half this county thinking you were lying in a ditch. Jake and Garth and Jimmy spent half the night scouring the ranch and every road around here, in the black of night, in the pouring rain, and you have no more to say to anyone but your curt, ‘so what, you’re not my keeper’.” He shook his head in disgust. “You cross the line one more time, I’ll see you’re gone. I don’t care who you think owns this stable. You don’t own me, and you won’t take my peace of mind away from me. Now get out of here.”
The yard was empty by the time a weakened Amanda marched toward the house. She’d been sure she would have to face Jake after she met with Hank; but there was no sign of him, or Garth and Jimmy for that matter. They’d left during the commotion, which should have been a relief to her, but so much rattled inside her brain that even another tongue-lashing from Jake—with the promise of something more afterwards would have been welcome. Maybe she’d finally ruined herself with him. That would be just her luck. And maybe that’s what she deserved if she was as much a holy terror as Hank seemed to think. His words would be stinging her heart for some time.
***
Midge sat in the old rocking chair on Hank’s back porch listening to the sounds of the quiet night. Since the rain stopped, and the brawling insurrection in the stable yard ended, the world at Birch Valley Stables had turned eerily quiet. Just the leftover noise of rain gutters spilling out the last drops of rainwater into the grass around the tiny house… and the creak of the rocker under her seat… and far in the distance, what seemed miles off, a few spine-tingling noises that might be understood as the sound of a belt strapped against a woman’s ass, and the cries of that woman being punished. This explanation seemed senseless to the vigilant Midge—likely, it was just her imagination extrapolating the obvious from the scene an hour ago. Hank’s rage only took him one place with a shrew like Amanda. Though in his position at the stables, he tread in dangerous territory with her. Her boss, then not his boss, but his employee—but not really an employee of the stables, just the resident harpy. Midge could have predicted this outcome weeks ago, and wasn’t distressed to see it happening—except tonight, of all nights…
Midge couldn’t leave when Hank ordered her home. Once he was back in the stables she’d driven to the far end of the drive, then dimmed her lights and looped out on the old road, parking her car out of sight. She took the rest of the way back on foot, scurrying between raindrops, finally landing on Hank’s back porch. She’d never been inside his house, and was too timid to even peek. One thing for sure, however, she wouldn’t let Hank go to bed tonight without her, no matter what he ordered her to do. She’d have her own hell to pay, but that didn’t matter. She needed him now.
As the night moved on, Midge wondered if Hank would ever return. Once she’d heard the distinctive sound of Amanda’s ranch house door closing with a bang, she expected him to arrive any minute. The hairs on the back of her neck bristled with energy in the expectant minutes, and she become so engrossed in the non-sounds around her that she seemed to bolt from her skin as soon as a real noise assaulted her ears.
The wood plank floor inside the house began to creak, followed by the sound of the front door slamming. What if he didn’t find her here, what if he went straight to bed? Maybe she should have waited in the dark of his living room where he wouldn’t miss her. But certainly, he couldn’t ignore the creaking rocker, or the sound of her boots scuffing the porch boards.
Her body felt numb. And preparing for a verbal attack, she cringed. Hank didn’t like defiant women. Knowing that had been his quarrel with Amanda, Midge was taking an enormous risk just being here, but to her that was what love was about—she’d risked her peace of mind, changed her whole thinking for this relationship. What was one more hazardous move?
Hank’s steps got closer. As they did, the darkness of this pitch-black night seemed to enclose around her. The clouds vanished what stars that had emerged—but it was more than just the night that gobbled her up. He was standing at the backdoor. She could almost hear a squeak as though his hand was on it, Hank preparing to come outside. But then he backed off, and she heard his steps inside the house again, this time retreating. Didn’t he see her? What was he thinking? Would he leave her here all night?
Her heart seemed to beat inside her temples, blood rush wildly, her nerves tattered.
“You going to stay out there all night,” she finally heard his voice calling her.
“What?” she turned around.
“Seems I’m not going to have any peace tonight,” he said. He was at the door again.
“Just me,” she said as she stood up.
“And did I invite you?” he asked as she gingerly stepped toward the door.
“No,” she answered meekly.
“Did I suggest you wait for me here?”
“No.”
“Didn’t I order you home?”
“Yes, you did.”
“Then this is your rebellion?”
“I guess so.”
He nodded as he opened the door to let her inside. “Just wanted to be sure I wasn’t losing my mind.”
“I’m sure you’re not,” she said.
Hank held a beer in his hand. He’d lost his shirt somewhere along the way, his bare torso gleaming from a layer of sweat; his smell that dark, earthy scent of masculine heat. Her sex replied, excitedly engaged, feeling as though the night wind, and the air, and the urgency of the next few minutes were all bearing down on her.
Hank pushed her into the kitchen and toward the sink. Though she could see little in the dark, she could feel his cowboy sensibility in the sparse surroundings. She wanted to inspect Hank’s private space, to know it as well as he knew hers; but he didn’t give her time. Following his unspoken order
s, she knew she’d better behave now or he’d send her home.
Midge clutched at the counter to steady herself. Lightheaded and almost dizzy she needed the balance to ground her. Hank moved on her, and pressing the length of himself against her backside, his hand rested on her rear, squeezing it with a firm and decisive grip of steel. She could feel his breath on her neck and the smell of beer on his lips. He rubbed his hands about her groin, overtop her shorts, the fire of them seeming strong enough to burn through her clothes. For a time, he seemed content to harass her, going no further than this fierce caress. She leaned back into his chest as her body jumped with life, her ass swaying into his hands and then his groin as his palm moved forward to clutch at her pubic mound in front.
He took the zipper of her shorts in one rude jerk, and the button at the waistband followed. Then with one quick tug, he had her shorts down her hips and dropping to the floor. Hank eased his hand inside her panties, stripping them away as quickly—while holding her to him with his other hand.
“You didn’t think I’d let you get away with this, did you?” he murmured in her ear.
“Never,” she murmured back as she tried to gasp for air, thinking it damned close inside his house even with the windows open.
“Don’t move,” he said, then he backed off, moving quickly toward their left. He pulled open a cabinet drawer, searched its contents, and then having what he wanted, he returned to her in the same position he’d been before. The inflexible feel of wood grazed her naked ass, something wide and thick. Though she couldn’t be sure because she couldn’t see what was in his hand, she guessed it was a broad butter paddle, which was a remarkably miserable prospect for her ass. It could sting worse than his belt. So much for their rude anal games and that brand of infernal darkness she’d been expecting now for days. She messed up the possibilities for that the moment she decided to defy him.
Birches, Cowgirls & Angels Page 14