Over the Barrel

by Breanna Hayse

  "I swear they are making a meal of me! Where are they coming from?"

  "We are paralleling a running stream. My guess is there are a bunch of little offshoots of still water. Stop fidgeting so much; you'll irritate the horse," he said, glancing back at her.

  "I am slapping at insects, you chowderhead."

  Sloan ignored the insult to his intelligence, "There are no insects biting at your back end. Plant your rump on his back before you bruise him with your knees. And don't go giving me the uglies."

  "What's wrong, boy? Are you hating him as much as I do? I hope so," Blair said to Skinwalker as he tensed slightly between her legs and pulled his ears back. She leaned forward against the animal's long neck and patted his throat. "Maybe you can bite him later."

  "Trying to get the horse riled against me isn't going to do you any good, Miss Farbor. He will only sense your ire and end up throwing you."

  "How ... I mean, what are you talking about?" Blair caught herself.

  Sloan pulled his buckskin back to trot next to her. "The animal's got his ears down, is side-stepping, and you are whispering in his ear. It's not hard to put two and two together."

  "Unless you're an illiterate cowboy," Blair mumbled under her breath. "Maybe he senses a snake or something."

  "I doubt it. My horse is not reacting. Just behave yourself and respect the strength of that animal. You have no saddle, and if he rears up on you, you will go flying."

  "Who the hell do you think you are anyway? He likes me and is not …" Blair screamed as Skinwalker pounced forward before raising the front of his body off the ground and throwing his rider into a bush. Sloan quickly jumped off his mount to help her up.

  "Foolish girl! Are you hurt?"

  "Just my dignity," Blair snapped, slapping his hand away as she refused his assistance off the ground. She rubbed her hip as she marched over to the grazing horse. He whinnied, ignoring her angry countenance. "Throw me again and I will see you headed to the glue factory!"

  Few words were exchanged as they continued down the uneven road. Sloan veered his horse towards the line of reeds and willows, gesturing Blair to join him. They headed into the tree line where Sloan hopped off his mount.

  "This looks like a good spot to set up camp. Get down and bring your saddlebags over here. We don't have much daylight left."

  "It's about time," Blair said as she gingerly sat upon a large rock and remove her boots.

  "What are you doing? There is work to be done. You can rest later."

  Blair looked up at his face and pursed her lips. "I am not so stupid as to realize there is work to be done. Believe it or not, the prospect of work does not disturb me. I am not accustomed to being on a horse's back as you are, and I merely needed to shake pebbles from my boots. Is that a crime, Mr. God-fearing, clean living Adkins?"

  Sloan's eyes crinkled at the corners. "You're really a sight to behold when you got your knickers in a knot, girl. I'm gonna water the horses and fill the kettle while you gather up firewood. Watch out for snakes. They don't always warn you."

  Blair frowned at the hushed, gentle words spoken to both horses as Sloan led them to the small, swift stream to drink. Thinking it would be nice if he treated her as gently as he did the animals, Blair shoved her feet back into her boots and stretched her body as she stood. She scanned the ground for wood and began to break off branches, leaving them in a neat pile before Sloan returned. She turned to the sound of his footfalls.

  "Very good," he praised, nodding toward the stacks of kindling and wood. "There are fish in the river. Have you ever fished before?"

  "No."

  "Then it sounds like a perfect time to learn. Do you think you can strip off a couple of those underskirts? You'll move through the bush much better. You would also be more comfortable in the summer heat with fewer layers."

  "I cannot."

  "Do it your way, you stubborn chit. You are worse than a squirrel refusing to budge from a branch," Sloan shrugged, and led the way back down to the stream where small pools housed a number of rainbow trout scrambling through the water.

  Blair watched, feigning disinterest, as Sloan tried time after time to snatch a fish with his bare hands. Becoming quite wet in the process, he stripped off his shirt and washed his upper body in the cold water, scrubbing trail dirt off with handfuls of grass. Blair's lips parted and her breath quickened as she observed him. His hands seemed to move in slow motion over the rigid muscles of his shoulders, arms, and abdomen. Her breath caught deep in her throat as she openly stared at the ripples of his belly and the balls of muscle that undulated under a dark gold tan. A golden shimmer rose from his skin as the dark sunlight of the departing day shone down upon him, making him glow in the warm light. He stood, his back facing her, and revealed a carved physique from the back of his neck that disappeared in a slender V-shape under the waistband of his heavy trousers.

  "I'm gonna make a spear. I… what in blazes are you doing, woman?" Sloan asked as Blair reached under her dress and untied one of her cotton petticoats. Without a word, she pulled the ribbons tightly to cinch the waistband closed and then gathered the open hem in her hands. She carefully picked her way over the rocks and studied the stream before piling some larger rocks to dam one side of a very narrow point. Tossing some rocks inside the skirt to hold it under water and anchoring it on either side of the little canal, Blair positioned herself to hold the 'net' in place.

  "Now is a good time to put your commanding disposition to the test, Mr. Adkins. Stomp around and scare the fish into this channel."

  "That is …"

  "If you are going to say what I am doing is stupid, then I will ask you to keep your opinion to yourself."

  "I was going to say brilliant. I am intrigued. Ready?"

  Blair bit her lower lip, hiding her excitement as she saw four fish tumble into the basket made by the undergarment. She quickly drew the hem edges together and gathered the catch. Looking up at Sloan with a face-splitting smile, she offered him the net to carry.

  "Would you take this, please? It's heavy. The water needs to drain out of it."

  "Certainly. I must say, Miss Farbor, that your ingenuity is mighty impressive. Please, allow me," he offered his arm to assist her out of the shallow water.

  Blair paused to look up into his face. He had removed the eye patch. She gently touched the top of his cheek to look at his injured eye. "Your eyelid still looks swollen. Does it hurt?"

  "Just annoying, especially if I get dust in it. How is your bottom?" Sloan asked in return.

  Blair blushed. "I am just fine, thank you. You had no reason to ask that of me except to cause me embarrassment!"

  "Girl, you really need to learn to put those claws away. I was genuinely concerned. I know I have a heavy hand, especially when I mean business. Not every question is meant to cause offense."

  "My back end recovered several days ago from your 'heavy hand', Mr. Sloan. Further, if you kept my personal parts out of the conversation, I would not be offended. It is quite simple."

  "Just when I think you are warming up and becoming a human being, you turn your tongue on me. Pitiful, that's what I think."

  "You are calling me pitiful?" Blair was aghast.

  "Pitiful, tragic, sad … take your pick. You have the opportunity to change your life for the better and break away from the very things that have hurt you in the past, yet you choose to behave as though everyone is like your aunt or that headmistress." Sloan kept walking, not looking behind him as he spoke. "I hope that you leave a better impression on your grandfather than what you have left with me. It is really unbecoming for such actions to accompany such an intelligent and beautiful woman. If you want men to respect you, then you need to find another means to do so."

  Blair stared at him dumbfounded. She swallowed and lifted her chin. "You're right, Mr. Adkins. I apologize."

  It was Sloan's turn to stare back at her with the same perplexed expression. "You agree with me?"

  "As much as I detest hearing th
ese words leave my lips, yes, I agree with you," Blair declared. She wiped her forehead with the back of her hand. "When I caught those fish, I felt something that I had never experienced before. Pride. And when you praised me, I was elated. I am admitting this for your edification as well as my own. You made me realize that I don't know how to graciously take a compliment or how to conduct myself in a manner that I do not feel defensive. It is my flaw, among many that you will not hesitate to bring to my attention during our journey. Of that, I am certain."

  "It takes a lot of guts to admit a weakness or a need to change. For that, ma'am, my hat is off to you," he placed his hat on his chest and made a quick bow. "Does this mean that I can expect less backtalk from you now?"

  "I will try to be more pleasant, if that is what you are asking."

  "I thank you kindly for the attempt. Why don't you curry the horses and I'll get these fish gutted."

  The early summer sun was nothing more than a few orange streaks in the sky when Blair returned from grooming the horses. The fish were on skewers and roasting merrily over a small open fire, and the kettle was starting to steam with an aroma of mint.

  "You all right? I was about to go looking for you," Sloan asked, pouring her a cup of tea.

  "Skinwalker tried to bite me when I combed him. He acted like he has never been groomed before. I thought horses liked that."

  "Horses and women are a lot alike in how they preferred to be handled. Did you talk to him first?"

  "Women are nothing like horses. First, we …"

  "Do you like to be talked to before anyone attempts to approach you on an intimate level?"

  "Of course, but …"

  "Come here and let me show you something. A comforting voice can soothe the nerves and open the ears. Did you touch him gently with your fingertips before you jumped into brushing him?"

  "No. I just started to brush. It is not that important."

  "Would you rather a man touch you like this before he kissed you?" Sloan asked, running the backs of his fingers down her cheek.

  Blair instinctively lowered her eyes and tilted towards his hand. "I don't know. I have never been kissed before."

  Sloan pulled his fingers away from her face and lifted her left hand to his lips, kissing her knuckles. "We both know the answer. A man who treats his horse well will be just as good to his woman. Try approaching the horse in a way you think you would like, and see how it goes. Wash up in the stream and come sit for dinner."

  Blair closed her eyes as the trout melted in her mouth. It was sweet and smooth, with just a hint of wood smoke.

  "You like?" Sloan asked, tossing the bones into the fire.

  "It is delicious. I have never had trout before. The mint tea is also wonderful, but does need a drop of honey. And what is this?"

  "Wild onion. Would you like some more?" he offered her another fish.

  "No, thank you. Please, you eat it. Thank you for cooking."

  "We will try to grab some more fish in the morning and I'll show you how to gut them. Without a frying pan, this is the best way to cook a catch."

  "Would you show me how to shoot tomorrow too?"

  "After we make some headway. I want to get through this pass tomorrow, which means starting out early and trying to avoid the midday sun."

  "Mr. Adkins?"

  "Call me Sloan."

  "Very well, Sloan. Might I try some of that whiskey? I've never had spirits before."

  "Do you want me to get you a cigar, too?" he teased, taking out the bottle and pouring a bit into the canteen lid.

  "I really don't care much for those," Blair grinned, sharing the story of her final day at the academy.

  "You didn't!" Sloan exclaimed as she sniffed the golden brew.

  "I certainly did. Oh, this is horrid!" Blair made a wry face as she sipped the liquid. "It makes my throat burn."

  "Some people call it rotgut," Sloan chuckled as Blair slowly downed the remainder of her drink from the small cup. "You don't have to finish it."

  "It tastes terrible but leaves a nice warm feeling inside of me. May I have another?"

  "No, that is enough. I don't need to see you getting tipsy on me."

  "Please?"

  With a reluctant sigh, he poured her another shot. "It you are going to drink whiskey, then you need to do it like a man. Tip it up and take the whole thing at once."

  Blair grinned and followed his directions. Her coughing fit lasted several minutes and she had tears dripping down her face. "That was awful," she choked. "I'm cured. Never again."

  "Yeah, well, wait until it hits you," Sloan said, lying back with his head on his saddle and closing his eyes.

  Minutes later, Blair began to giggle. "Look how pretty the stars are! One ... two …"

  "Please tell me you aren't going to try to count them," the man moaned. "What are you doing? I thought you were cured of your curiosity."

  Blair took a gulp from the bottle and began coughing again. She wiped her mouth with her sleeve. "I didn't know I would feel this way. It makes me … happy."

  "Drink too much of it and you won't be happy tomorrow."

  "I'll be fine!" Blair giggled again as she crawled on her hands and knees next to him. "I'm cold. Share your rock with me."

  Sloan scooted over so she could lean back by his side. She took another drink from the bottle, without coughing this time.

  "You've had enough, Squirrel. Let me have that, please."

  "I'm not done yet," she snickered. "Why are you calling me squirrel?"

  "Give me that bottle," Sloan said patiently, pulling it from her hands. "You chatter like a squirrel and, like a squirrel, you are pretty cute until you turn on someone."

  "Then I bite!" Blair announced.

  "What are you doing? You are not going to bite my neck! Hey!"

  "I think I'm drunk," Blair stated. Sloan's eyes widened as she climbed onto his lap and wrapped her arms around his neck. "You saved me. You didn't have to do anything, and you did. I didn't thank you properly."

  Blair crushed her lips against his, probing his mouth with her warm tongue. Sloan slowly returned the kiss as chastely as possible. With a growl, Blair grabbed his face and pressed her mouth more fervently while straddling his hips. Her knees dugs into the rock behind them as she forced her body as close to his as she could manage.

  "Blair … stop. You don't know what you are doing," Sloan said, as he gently pushed her off him. He kept his hands on her shoulders, his thumbs stroking gently into her collarbone. "I'm no saint, but I can't let you do this. It isn't proper."

  "You are worried about being proper?" Blair asked, swaying as she slowly stood. "Of all the things that this life has for us, I would think that being proper would be on the bottom of your list. You are a very handsome man. Very handsome. Maybe you would like to spank me again, but take your time, so we both can enjoy it." She released her long, dark brown hair from the chignon and let it fall in heavy waves to her waist. Sloan swallowed dryly as she began to unfasten the buttons of her bodice, slipped her arms from the long sleeves, and let the dress crumble to the ground along with the additional petticoats.

  She continued: "Ever since I moved in with Aunt Imelda, the word 'proper' was something I learned to curse at. Being proper takes away your joy. I want joy in my life. I want to know what it's like to feel a man next to me, and I want that man to be you."

  She stood before him in a white, sleeveless chemise that fell to her knees. Her tiny breasts, tipped with pebbled nipples, strained against the thin cotton. They heaved up and down as she breathed deeply—partially due to her inebriation and partially from excitement. She reached under the thin material to untie her drawers when Sloan stopped her.

  "That is enough, Miss Farbor. That is the drink talking, not you. The only thing you are succeeding in doing is making me want to spank that backside of yours until it glows like the sun. Believe me, I would be the only one enjoying it, too. Get dressed. Quickly. I will be back in a bit." He stood quickly and hastened in th
e direction of the stream.

  Blair followed him with her eyes, lost in confusion. She looked down at the ground at the puddle of material around her feet and felt her face flush with heat. She reached down to gather the clothing and felt her world spin around her. The last thing she remembered was placing her face on the cold, rocky ground, and the sound of crickets chirping in her ears.

  Chapter 4

  Blair moaned as something wet dabbed at her face, and she painfully cracked open her eyes. Barely able to focus, she tried to sit up, only to collapse back onto the ground where Sloan had folded some clothing to make her a pillow.

  "Am I dead? Please say yes," she groaned, lifting her hands to shield her eyes from the bright morning sunlight. "The world is spinning around. Sloan! I need you to tell it to stop."

  "I'm sorry, Squirrel. I can't make that happen. Here's some coffee. Drink up." He helped her to a sitting position against the large bolder.

  "Thank you." She wrinkled her nose at the wry taste. "This tastes like mud."

  "Trail coffee isn't meant for flavor."

  "That is obvious. Maybe we should rub this on our skin to keep away the insects."

  "I'm glad to see you have not lost your sense of humor. Drink more. It will help your head."

  "I was serious." She smacked at a fly and then clutched her head. "Dear God, what happened last night?"

  "Your experiment with whiskey backfired on you. How are you feeling?"

  "Like I ate a cactus and all the prickles got stuck in my head."

  "I bet you are glad I took that bottle from you when I had the chance. Whiskey is a man's poison and has no business touching a ladies lips."

  "I am begging you. No lectures. Please. And no spankings!"

  "Here is water. Keep drinking. I'll save the lecture for later. The only reason you aren't getting paddled is because it was your first experience, and you asked if you could try it. I figure the whiskey could teach you a better lesson than my palm could right now."