Over the Barrel

by Breanna Hayse

  Blair numbly followed him through the train depot and into the bustling remote area of the city. Sloan confidently strolled down the dusty street, nodding and greeting people as they passed, keeping Blair close to his left side with a possessive grip. He led her to the sheriff's office and pushed her inside.

  "Can I help ya?"

  Sloan nodded. "You, sit," he ordered Blair. He spoke after she obeyed, "There is a body in the depot. Man attacked my wife and got himself shot. The train left with all our belongings. I have urgent business in Manitou that I need to attend to which includes dropping this little piece of trouble off with a relative."

  "I am not …"

  "Silence!" he commanded. "I have had enough of your mischief. If you had not been batting your eyes at that man, he would still be alive and I would be closer to being free of you once and for all."

  The sheriff spat tobacco onto the dirt floor and slowly pulled his boots off the top of the desk. "That is what ya get when ya marry them for their looks. Don't have a brain in the head, do they? Have ya tried a good beating?"

  "I would if the prospect of touching her did not disgust me so much," Sloan said bitterly, ignoring the very real tears that were forming in Blair's eyes. "Do you have any horses I can borrow? I can have a stable-hand return them with payment after we arrive."

  "Just being a Ranger would have given ya a solid yes," the sheriff rose slowly and tucked his rifle in his arms, "but being that you got yourself a handful of chit makes a man wanna oblige even more. Damn women and their wanting rights like voting and wearing breeches. Here's my stable. Take yer pick. You might wanna stay away from the white one. Bought it off of a fur-trader who said a Comanche left the bastard on his hitching post and ran like the wind. Named him Skinwalker. They said he's got a curse on him. Hell, I can't pay anyone to take the beast, and folks are too superstitious to put a bullet through its head."

  "It's a horse. How bad can he be?" Blair asked snootily.

  "You just keep your fingers away from his mouth, so you don't find out, woman."

  "Now, see here …"

  "Enough, Blair. Thank you for the warning, Sheriff. I appreciate it."

  "No problem, Ranger. I'll go fetch you some supplies. Remind yer lady not to get too close. Beast will take off her face if she gets within reach," the sheriff warned as he touched the rim of his hat and left the stables.

  Sloan frowned as Blair stubbornly approached the tall, white stallion and offered him her hand. The horse nickered then stomped with his ears laid back.

  "Blair Lorraine! Didn't you hear what the sheriff said about that animal? Get away from that horse!"

  Blair did not have a chance to retort before the stallion lunged at the gate. Startled, she fell backwards onto the ground. Sloan raced to pick her up, not hesitating to smack her sharply on the backside.

  "You better start listening to me, girl! Next time, those skirts won't protect you. I have no intention of making this trip any more difficult than it needs to be by fighting you every step. Get that into your head right now."

  Blair raged. Her mind was washed free of common sense. She no longer cared about the story designed to help get them mounts and lead them away from this city. She gave no consideration towards the opinions formed by the interfering, nosy busybodies that places like these were famous for. Abandoned were the years of education in etiquette, poise and grace. In one fell swoop, she relinquished all propriety as she slapped Sloan across the face with all her strength.

  "Do not ever touch me again!" Blair screamed.

  Sloan's eyes darkened and he slowly inhaled. "That was uncalled for. Girl, you have now earned yourself a well-deserved spanking. It is time for you to learn yourself a lesson that won't soon be forgotten"

  His voice was low, gravely and tinged with a smoldering anger. Blair's breath caught in her throat as, instead of reaching to stroke the red handprint on his cheek, he began to roll up his sleeves. He took a single step in her direction and Blair's eyes immediately darted to seek out a means of escape, but Sloan stood between her and the only way out. With a frightened squeal, Blair opened Skinwalker's gate and scurried into the stall.

  "Are you addled? Get out of there now, Blair!"

  "Not if you are going to spank me! I would rather deal with the damned horse," Blair replied heatedly, pressing against the wall as the white horse began to agitate his stall.

  "I swear you will not be sitting when I am done with you. I said to get out of there now! He is going to kill you!" Sloan's tone changed from fury to alarm as the animal started to stomp the hay and bare his teeth in the direction of the frightened young woman.

  "No!"

  Blair trembled as the horse snorted while he pawed the ground and pulled its ears flat against its head. The click of Sloan pulling back the hammer of his gun made her yell out. "No! You won't shoot this horse!"

  She placed herself in the path of his gun with her back to the anxious animal. Sloan's angry look turned to amazement as the horse lifted its head and perked his ears forward before he placed his head across her shoulder and nuzzled her jaw. Blair lifted her shaking hand to the velvety nose and began to stroke the warm muzzle, trying not to appear as stunned as she felt. Determined to show Sloan that she was unafraid, she turned to run her hands over the horse's neck, flanks, side and rump, and then back up the back to his head. She offered Sloan a slight smirk as Skinwalker mouthed her hand with his lips.

  The sound of footfalls came closer. "Well, I'll be damned…," the sheriff said. "Seems like your little lady gone and broke the Skinwalker's curse."

  "I doubt it." Sloan composed himself. "They are probably cut from the same piece of demon cloth."

  "If that be true, I would watch my back, or something more delicate, if I was you," the sheriff gestured towards Sloan's crotch. "I'm gonna have to ask ya'll to get goin' quickly. If word gets around that she tamed that animal, there will be all sorts of witch hunters out here."

  "Everyone knows that the witch hunts have ceased. It is pure superstition …."

  "Ma'am, beggin your pardon, but there are folks in this town who witnessed the Tennessee prosecution in 1833. That weren't so long ago. I'm asking you kindly to gather these supplies and be gone with ya. I don't want any trouble in my town. If you follow the road, there is a settlement about a week's travel from here that should have a wagon you can hitch these horses to. I'll telegraph them and let 'em know you're coming."

  "Thank you, Sheriff. I will send the mounts back along with payment once we arrive at our destination."

  "That demon horse is hers to keep if she can ride him. I don't wanna see that animal again."

  "I can ride him just fine, thank you," Blair said stubbornly.

  "Bareback? Horse never had more than a blanket on his back."

  "I'll learn," Blair snipped back.

  "Well, if the beast breaks her neck, that will leave you with one less burden," the sheriff shrugged, shaking Sloan's hand. He handed Sloan a rifle, bullets, a couple of saddlebags, bedrolls, and a bottle of whiskey.

  "I usually am not blessed with such luck," Sloan responded, shooting an angry eye in Blair's direction. He thanked the departing sheriff, chose a mount for himself, and began to saddle it. Blair's quiet sobs were buried in the thick neck of the horse, and Sloan began to rub his temple.

  "I'm not a burden," Blair mumbled, burying her face in the sleek animal's neck

  "Miss Farbor." His exasperated tone got her attention. "All those things I said was an act. Now, you either got your feelings hurt for real or you are one heck of a performer."

  "They were the same things my aunt and governesses said about me all the time."

  "Well, I'm sorry for that," Sloan's hand moved to the back of his neck, "but you have to understand that men don't like to be involved in other's people's quarrels. It makes us uncomfortable, and we just wanna remove ourselves from the situation. He wants us out of town as fast as possible and not leave time to ask any more questions."

  "Oh."r />
  "Now come on out of there. You and I have some business to take care of before we ride."

  "No."

  "Miss Farbor," Sloan said patiently, setting his everpresent hat on a post. He crossed his arms and leaned back against the wall. "The longer we stay here, the more time you will have to be under my protection. Now, looking around here," he scanned the room, "I see one exit and a loading window for hay bales, neither of which you can reach without passing me. There is the stall window," he pointed to a narrow cut out in the wall, "but that is about nine or ten feet high. And you have no ladder."

  His arms fell to his side and clasped behind his back as he stood straight. "Your third option is getting on that animal's back and trying to provoke him to break through the gate and run like hades out of here. I don't know how well you ride, ma'am, but I am willing to bet that bottle of whiskey that you won't make it out the gate. True?"

  "That bet is worthless. You said you live a clean life. That means no drinking." Blair said, smartly.

  "You are correct. I can stay here all night without a problem, Miss Farbor. But then again, I'm not in a horse stall with a very large horse. Now large horses tend to …"

  "That is disgusting," Blair shrieked, holding her nose and backing away.

  "He'll probably think the same of you when it's your turn. Now come out of there and fork it over."

  "Fork what over?"

  "Get what is owed you. Move it now, and you will only have to feel the flat of my hand instead of my belt. Believe-you-me, that is only because we have no time to spare."

  Blair quivered as his words echoed in her head. She felt the temperature of her face rise as she experienced both a heart pounding fear and an unusual, but not unpleasant, tickle between her legs. Biting her lower lip, she reluctantly exited the stall. She did not understand her trepidation. She had been whipped before, and it had not caused her pain. Although, never by a man …

  Sloan placed his hands on his hips and shook his head. In the dim light of the stables, his scraggly dark hair, slightly crooked nose, eye patch and irritated frown added to his general intimidating appearance. Blair lowered her eyes to observe the work-hardened muscle of his arms and the large, calloused hands that absently stroked the edge of a wide leather belt around his waist. Her eyes continued downward until they gazed upon her own boots. Blair chewed on the inside of her cheek. What was this feeling? Remorse? Guilt? Shame? Lust? She began to pray that she was stuck in the middle of an awful dream.

  She felt Sloan grab her wrist with iron fingers and pull her towards a bale of hay. He sat down and dragged her resistant body across his rock-hard thighs and wrapped his left arm around her waist. He drew her back end to a more comfortable position on his lap which, unfortunately, required that her bottom be perched high in the air and her face close to the ground. He rested his hand on her thickly clothed buttocks and patted her gently.

  "We both know that you won't feel a thing with all this material in the way, so I am going to remove it."

  "Father in Heaven, No! That is indecent!" Blair began to kick wildly to escape. Sloan wrapped his right leg across Blair's ankles and held her securely in place.

  "What is indecent, young lady," he began, peeling her dress and several layers of clothes away from her bottom, exposing her cotton drawers, "is your temper. What is indecent," he deftly untied the laces and the split garment fell away to reveal a full, round bottom with the paleness of the moon. "Is your spiteful actions that can end up getting you, or someone else, killed."

  "Put those back!"

  "What is indecent," Sloan's voice grew soft and he gently caressed the soft ivory mounds with unspeakable ease, "is that no one taught you to love and respect yourself. These things will change right here and now."

  Blair's eyes widened as the wave of shocking heat lit upon her backend. Having never experienced a bare-bottomed spanking, the sting was completely unexpected. A second wave crashed upon her, and she began to desperately fight for her release. A third, fourth, fifth and sixth smack plummeted to land upon her flesh. Each exacting fall of his hand compounded the pain beyond Blair's capacity to hold true to her pride. By the tenth strike of Sloan's monstrously hard paw Blair began to plead for mercy. Sloan did not stop. At the thirtieth spank, strings of profanity and offensive suggestions sprung from between her weeping lips. Sloan upped the ante and doubled the speed of the spanking. At fifty, Blair was praying aloud and begging for a swift demise. Finally, after a round of seventy very hard, rapid strokes, she ceased fighting him. She began to apologize, her tears genuine and born out of sorrow and anguish, and she simply clung to his boot to bawl pathetically into the leather.

  Sloan paused his hand and rested it upon her cherry-red bottom. He rubbed her scorching hot skin gently. "You are a beautiful and intelligent woman with a wagon-full of spice for an attitude." He pulled her up to sit upon his knee and placed his finger under her chin and lifted her eyes to meet his. "Don't make me have to do that again. I promise you that should you do so, I will remove my belt and give you a taste of the strap. I told you that I am a man of my word, so do not test me."

  "I hate you," Blair whispered, her downcast eyes blurred with shame-filled tears.

  Sloan squeezed her chin. "Keep hating me. Maybe you will learn to mind me and keep yourself alive out here."

  "Why do I even matter to you? You hold no obligation to me or my family." Blair's tone was tempered with both sorrow and anger.

  "I don't know how men are from your part of the nation, but in my part of the world, we watch out for our womenfolk. Even the bratty ones." He offered her a smile that was not returned.

  "The man who attacked me and that sheriff did not appear to be men who cared anything about women or the betterment of our gender. You certainly did not demonstrate any respect by the way you … you manhandled me! I am no child to be beaten because you did not get your way." Blair's words did not match the childlike tone in her voice.

  Sloan hugged her and spontaneously kissed her forehead. "You are just a little girl in a grown woman's body. I spanked your backend for your senseless and irresponsible behavior. I will continue to do so until I hand you over to your grandfather. At that time, he can figure out how to keep your pretty neck out of mischief."

  "I do not need a man to dictate anything to me. The way of things for women is changing and we are not going to allow ourselves to be viewed as property any longer. Nor are we ignorant children who need to be told how to live our lives. You men need to accept the fact that we are intelligent and able to think for ourselves. We …"

  Sloan interrupted her by placing a single finger over her lips. "Shhh. I am very much aware of the movement to allow women to vote and how they are struggling for independence in a world that is dominated by men. Do you think that I haven't noticed the change in fashion with eliminating corsets and introducing women's trousers and short skirts? Frankly, I am surprised you are not clothed in such an outfit, given your fondness for the idea of women's rights."

  "My aunt forbade it," Blair said glumly. "The only reason I have the drawers is because Madeline sewed them for me to maintain my modesty as I went out riding. I threw my corset in the fireplace on my way out the door, and it was too much effort to remove the petticoats."

  "I applaud your maid for her wisdom, and you for your choice. Those devices are pleasing to the eye, but are otherwise useless. Especially out here. Darling, what you do not understand is that you are not equipped to be on your own in the wilderness. It is not because you are a woman, but because you have not been taught the necessities of pioneer living. While we are on the trail, I intend to teach you how to shoot a gun, clean a fish, and set a trap. You will also learn how to make a fire, cook, and mend clothes."

  "I am not your servant! If you think …"

  "Listen up, Miss Farbor. If something happened to me along the way to your grandfather's ranch, how would you care for yourself? Believe me, girl, being your nanny was not on my list. I will make the best of this
unpleasant situation as I can, and I strongly urge you to do the same. If not, I will not hesitate to blister your backside every day until we reach Manitou Springs. Got it?"

  Blair's mouth opened and closed silently. Her perched position upon his hard lap was causing more discomfort to her nether region than she cared to admit, and it did not stop with the burning ache in her bottom. She dared not squirm and give Sloan the satisfaction of believing she was either tender or aroused, the latter of which confused her. She sullenly dismissed her state of dismay to the effects of hunger.

  "I wish to eat and then begin our journey," she announced, standing and quickly placing several feet between them, hiding her hand as she rubbed her tender posterior.

  Sloan took his time to stand, making certain that Blair's attention did not waver as he maintained eye contact. "There are apples and some cheese in the saddlebags. Help yourself."

  "I want to have a real meal. Something hot and substantial. I have not eaten anything since breakfast. That was nearly ten hours ago."

  "Well, little lady, a proper meal just ain't gonna happen in this town. Maybe we can catch us some fish when we bunk down tonight and then you can have your hot, substantial meal."

  "You are an idiot, Mr. Adkins."

  "I've been told that on numerous occasions. Where do you think you are going?"

  Blair lifted her skirts and wordlessly started towards the stable's exit. Sloan grabbed her arm and pulled her to face him, his eyes again meeting Blair's as she fearfully gulped. "Do not press your luck. Ready that horse and get set to leave before the sheriff's hospitality runs out. No sass from you. I am not in the mood."

  Chapter 3

  Blair glared into the middle of Sloan's back as they rode silently down the well-worn road towards their destination. The town they had been sent to by the St. Louis sheriff did not have a wagon available, however, the local judge and his wife generously loaded the couple with supplies and invited them to stay the evening at their home. After taking hot baths, laundering their clothing, and sleeping on firm straw mattresses, Sloan and Blair departed early the following morning as the sun started to rise on the horizon. They had been out for only two hours when Blair's temper was starting to stir. Hungry, scared and physically uncomfortable from riding, she swatted at biting flies and buzzing mosquitoes.