by Maggie Ryan
"Oh, yes, Daisy."
"What is it with you women? Naming everything for a flower?"
Sally huffed. "What's wrong with that? Flowers are pretty."
"Agreed," Matthew said, thinking of the wildflowers in the glade where he'd made love to her for the first time. It was her soft giggle that pulled him away from that memory.
"You were saying? About Daisy?"
"Davy and I should have the corral finished by the end of the week. We can bring Daisy here and house the cattle down below. Does that sound like a good plan, buddy?"
Davy had been listening to the conversation, his eyes drooping a bit but he nodded, sleepily. Sally stood, her hands reaching behind her, only to flutter as Matthew uttered a very soft, "naughty", before jerking them to her front again. After he'd said his good nights to Davy, she tucked the boy into bed while Matthew carried a pail of water for washing up from the river. He'd never much liked washing dishes but sure didn't mind drying them when each one was handed to him by a woman he loved. Once the last dish was cleaned, he dried his hands on the cloth and said, "You know where the butter bag is kept?"
"Of course… oh, I need to put the butter back…"
"No, you need to go downstream a bit, just around the bend. There is a small boulder there. I want you to tuck your skirt into your waistband and lie over the rock and wait for me."
She snapped up from where she'd been putting the skillet in the wooden crate she used as a cupboard. "What?"
"You heard me. A penalty will be paid if your bottom isn't bare by the time I join you."
"Why… I mean, I didn't…"
"Go."
Glancing towards the wagon and then the river, and finally back at him, she nodded. He waited until she'd reached the river and turned around the bend before going to Ranger and extracting what he needed from his saddle bag. It really was time for him to head back down the ridge but he was more than willing to make the ride at a more cautious pace. Tucking the item into his pants pocket, he instructed King to stand guard by the wagon and then went to join his little minx.
***
Sally spotted the boulder immediately after turning the bend. It sat a few feet from the river's edge, almost as if it had been placed there to provide a perfect seat to pass a few pleasant moments watching the river flow between its banks, or to see the occasional fish leap from beneath the water's surface to dine on an insect that had fluttered down to take a sip of water. Looking back over her shoulder, she felt a mix of emotions coursing through her. Yes, she had been intending to dip the cloth in the water to cool the heat that still burned on her bottom, but she hadn't—didn't that count, or was the very fact that Matthew had somehow known of her plans enough to be considered naughty? God, that very word had her blood pumping a little faster through her veins, her tummy twisting and her drawers—well, if she'd been wearing any—becoming damp. A sound made her jump, remembering what Matthew had said about a penalty being paid if he didn't see her bottom bared when he joined her. Tugging up her skirts for the second time that day, she could feel her face burning as she awkwardly attempted to tuck the voluminous amount of calico fabric into the waistband. Despite the embarrassment of the act, she had to admit the cool evening air felt wonderful as it wafted across the flesh he'd heated so thoroughly only a few hours earlier. Again taking a glance behind her, she wondered how hard he'd spank her this time, and if his having to punish her again meant she'd be without her bloomers for another day.
Leaning forward, she wiggled about a bit until she was in position, her arms crossed beneath her cheek, her feet dangling behind her, the boulder surprisingly comfortable as it supported her weight and her bottom, her bare bottom exposed to the gentle caresses of the cool breeze coming across the water. She didn't even realize she'd closed her eyes, thinking the press of a palm against her bottom was just a vivid memory of the time spent in the glade until she heard Matthew speak softly.
"Good girl. Beautiful girl."
A surge of pleasure shot through her, replacing the memory to return to the present. "I'm sorry I even thought about disobeying," she said, wanting him to know that she was remorseful… not wanting to lose the praise he'd just given her.
He chuckled and squatted down beside her, his hand moving from her exposed posterior to her cheek, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear. "I haven't always been a grown man. I well remember the urge to seek a bit of comfort after a trip to the woodshed."
She couldn't suppress a giggle, unable to imagine this large man dropping his trousers to accept a spanking. His huff had her swallowing back the imagined tintype in her brain of him hopping about, his hands rubbing at his backside in indignation. "Sorry, I just… can't imagine…" An imaginary "owie" had her off, giggling so hard she had to clamp a hand over her mouth, her body shaking with mirth.
"Seems like you're imagining just fine," Matthew said. "In fact, since my girl obviously has such a vivid imagination, I suppose she can just imagine that her red little heinie was lovingly soothed."
It took her a moment to decipher what he said but the moment she did, she pushed her torso up off the rock. "No… no, I mean, I really… my mind is a total blank slate. I don't even have a piece of chalk to write on it, it's that blank."
Matthew chuckled and bent forward to kiss her cheek. "You, young lady, are absolutely adorable. All right, you may get up."
"What? I mean, why…" Sighing, accepting that adorable didn't mean what she thought it did, she pushed off the rock and reached for her skirt.
"Naughty," he said, shaking his head, "I didn't say you could cover, did I?"
"Um, no, sir."
When he took a seat on the rock and patted his leg, she smiled, almost asking if she'd warmed the rock up nicely for him but then deciding that she didn't particularly care to discuss how warm things could be. Draping herself across his knees, she again tucked her arms beneath her cheek, turning her head towards him. She watched as he uncapped some type of jar and dipped his fingers inside.
"What's that?" she asked, a fragrance that was vaguely familiar tickling her nose.
"Liniment," he said, pulling his fingers free, whatever coated them glistening in the waning light. When he dropped his hand towards her bottom, she twisted a bit.
"What kind of liniment? Where did you get it?"
"Honey, trust me, it won't harm you. But…" he shrugged, returning his fingers to the lip of the jar as if to scrape off the emollient, "if you don't want me to soothe your poor little behind…"
"No, I mean, I do," she said quickly, just the thought of him rubbing her bottom gently with his fingers enough to have her returning to lie straight across his thighs and pushing her hips up a bit. "I would very much appreciate some comfort and, Matthew, I trust you with my life."
Fingers began to move across her buttocks, the oily cream spreading with each stroke, the air adding to the process as the heat in her ass started to dissipate. Just like the giggle she couldn't contain earlier, she was absolutely helpless to suppress the moans his care drew from her. He didn't slap it on as if in a hurry, he took his time, his fingers returning time and time again to the jar, scooping up more of the miraculous, wonderful, healing emollient until every single inch that he'd spanked had been covered. When his slick fingers slid into the divide of her cheeks, she didn't even flinch, just moaned again, opening her legs a bit in a silent invitation.
"Good, beautiful, adorable, obedient, trusting, and obviously a woman of great passion," he said softly, his fingers sliding down the crease of her ass to pause at a place she'd never once considered as sensual. Yet the moment his slick finger slid around the puckered rim, she remembered the incredible combination of fear, shame, pain, and naughty pleasure his plundering of her bottom had given her. His finger gave one more pass before dipping lower to delve between her thighs, which she opened wider.
How could just a brush across her sex, a brief pause on her clitoris, have her breath hitching, her blood heating? How could a simple slide of t
wo fingers a bare fraction of an inch inside her have her body coiling? Oh, God, how could just feeling his fingers curl to stroke against some secret spot inside her, have her gasping with pleasure? With the realization that she didn't have to understand why to enjoy it, she closed her eyes, pushed back her hips, and accepted the gift he was giving her.
By the time his voice, husky with desire, ordered her to come for him, she was lost in a haze of arousal he'd kept her in for what felt like a lifetime. Time and time again, she'd felt the coil about to spring, begging for him to let her fly and yet he'd withdrawn—not completely; no, his fingers had never left her, they'd retreated to trace along her vulva, to stroke through the curls of her pubis, to give them a gentle tug that had her moaning, jerking a bit, moving that much closer to the precipice but never failing to know exactly when she was about to topple. The man was a genius in understanding her body; he was a monster in denying her release; he was a maestro conducting his own symphony, playing her body's instrument with perfection; and when he gave her permission to come, he was the man she knew she could never live without. Once given, he didn't retreat… no, he continued, advancing and withdrawing until he'd captured every spasm, every tremor, every gasp and moan and every plea that she could utter. Only when she lay like a limp rag doll did he bend to kiss the flesh he'd cooled and soothed, then her cheek, which was damp from her exertions. Only then did he end the play with the perfect words, "I love you."
Exactly like the prince he was, he bathed her face with a cloth dipped in the river, chuckling at her gasp as he washed her intimately before lowering her skirts and scooping her into his arms. Her feet never even touched the ground as he carried her into the wagon, finally setting her down as he cupped her face, kissing her softly.
"Thank you," she whispered, her hands mimicking his as she placed them on his face, loving the stubble of his beard beneath her palms. Moving to kiss him, just as softly. He smiled and stepped away, giving a soft whistle, all the instruction King needed to join his owners in the wagon. Despite her unsteady stance on legs that felt like rubber, Sally stood at the back of the wagon, watching through the opening until Ranger and Matthew dropped over the ridge line. Smiling, she undressed, pulled on her nightgown and crawled into bed. The quicker she slept, the faster she could see him in her dreams.
Chapter Thirteen
Davy's entire body was straining, pulling against the force of the river that seemed determined to drag not only the log, but him far downstream. Matthew grabbed the rope just as the boy's boots left the ground, hauling hard to guide the branch they'd cut into the bank. He didn't breathe until it grounded itself upon the rocks, finally coming to rest.
"Whew, that was a close one," he said, relaxing his hold but not yet releasing the rope. They'd managed to bring the last half dozen of the branches they'd cut to shore. "You know what? I've got an idea. What do you think about bribing your ma to maybe cook up a nice big feast tomorrow to use as payment for having some of my friends come help? I don't know about you, but I'm sure not above having a few more men join our crew."
Davy seemed to hesitate but when Matthew released one hand from the rope and reached out to turn Davy's hand palm up, the blisters that had developed evidently helped make up his mind. He nodded and then turned the tables on him, flipping Matthew's hand over, revealing a few blisters of his own. "Yup, and maybe some gloves as well?"
This time Davy's nod was quick, his grin emphasizing his agreement. The deal made, they tied their end of the rope around the pommel on Matthew's saddle, urging Ranger to pull yet another log to where the corral was beginning to take shape. The four corner posts were in place and they were setting the logs into the holes spaced between them, filling the holes in with dirt and rock, packing it tightly in order to secure them into the earth.
Matthew had spent every day up on the ridge with Davy and Sally, enjoying every single moment, blisters and all. After washing up at the river, they headed to the wagon, seeking lunch.
"Just in time," Sally said, "how's it going?"
"The boss has decided that we need to share our fun with a few others," Matthew said, "isn't that right, buddy?"
Davy nodded, and when his ma tried to hand him a plate, he held up several fingers of one hand, pantomiming forking food into his mouth with the other, finishing with closing his eyes, giving a moan and rubbing both hands over his stomach. Matthew chuckled as Sally smiled and said, "That's sweet, but you haven't even tasted it yet."
At Davy's shake of his head, Matthew explained their plan.
"Ah, so you're saying that even though you won't let me help build the corral, you need my help?"
"Exactly!" Matthew said, bending to kiss her cheek. "You're not only beautiful, you're very smart." He didn't miss Davy's roll of his eyes, wondering if it was due to the kiss he'd witnessed or his disagreement about his ma's intelligence since she obviously needed help in translating his pantomime.
"I'd be happy to cook a meal for your crew, but we're running short of meat."
Matthew hadn't thought of that. "How about instead of fishing this afternoon, we try a bit of hunting?"
Davy's eyes lit up but Sally was shaking her head. "I don't think so. Weren't you the one who warned Davy not to go off into the woods?"
"I said don't go alone. He'll be fine with me." When she still hesitated, he said, "I'll take care of him, I promise."
Davy was nodding, his excitement not needing any further actions to communicate itself. "I… I suppose," Sally said.
Matthew gave her another kiss and there was no eye-roll, only a smile from the little boy.
After they ate, Matthew made sure that Sally was within hearing as he sat across from Davy and clearly stated what he expected from him, emphasizing that he was to not only listen to everything he was told, but that he was to obey any instructions given.
"You are never to go far into the woods alone." He looked up at Sally. "That includes you, and you will always have a gun with you. Do you know how to shoot?"
"Yes, but I don't like hunting," Sally said.
"You don't have to hunt, but you have to be prepared. There are wild animals in these mountains. Agatha shot a mountain lion last year. Better you shoot than be attacked. Understand?"
"Yes," Sally said.
"Good." Turning back to Davy, Matthew continued. "I'll teach you to shoot when you're a bit older. Until then, you remember the dangers, all right?"
Davy nodded, his expression serious. Matthew stood and gave him his canteen. "Run fill that and then we'll go." The boy took off and he turned to Sally. "I don't want to scare you or Davy, but you need to be alert."
"I know," she said. "I won't like it but I'll remember."
"See that you do, because you won't like the consequences if you forget. Safety is the one thing that will never be negotiable, understand?"
"Yes, sir."
"Good." He kissed her, and when Davy ran back with the canteen slung over his shoulder, Sally pulled the boy into a hug.
"Be careful, and mind Matthew."
"He'll be fine," Matthew assured her. "We won't go far. If we don't find anything, I'll bring up a roast from our stores tomorrow. You be a good girl, you hear?"
"Yes," she said, rolling her eyes. "I don't think there will be much danger of getting into trouble washing clothes and hanging them up to dry."
Matthew leaned close to whisper, "Did I forget to tell you the danger to your little rump earned by rolling those beautiful blue eyes of yours, little girl?"
"Um, I do believe you did… I mean, forget to tell me."
"Consider yourself told," he said, dropping a hand to pat the back of her skirt while brushing the side of her neck with his lips, loving her little gasp.
Her softly whispered, "Potatoes and corn," had his moving to take another taste halted. Lifting his head, he straightened.
"What? We're going hunting, not gardening."
"Think about it," she said, grinning and, planting her hands on his chest, gave him
a little push. "Now, go forth and bring home dinner… already cleaned, mind you."
"Yes, ma'am," he said, knowing that this time he was the one who looked puzzled. Stopping by Ranger to pull his rifle from its scabbard, he gave her a final look before Davy snagged his hand, King at his side as the three went into the woods.
As they walked, Matthew's eyes constantly scanning the ground, he'd stop occasionally and squat, pointing out tracks or spoor, faint signs of bent grass or broken twigs indicating the passage of an animal. He remembered his pa doing the exact same thing, passing down his knowledge so that one day he'd be able to do the same with his own son. Seeing Davy nod, his hand reaching out to point to the next track, Matthew realized that he couldn't love his own child any more than he loved this little boy.
"Do you know what animal those are from?" he asked.
Davy nodded and used his hands to form antlers. It was pretty amazing how the boy could communicate but Matthew prayed that one day he'd find his voice again.
"That's right, a deer, but from the size, it's a fawn. Of course, that means that his ma or pa are around, as well. Let's keep going."
They walked deeper into the woods, Matthew showing Davy how to use a knife to make a small notch in a tree to mark their way back. "You can also use sticks or even a pile of stones but those can be destroyed by animals as they pass by. Do you hear the river?"
Davy cocked his head and then nodded.
"Good. Even when you're older and can go deep into the woods, never forget to take your bearings. This isn't your home, you are only visiting, and need to always be cautious." At his nod, Matthew handed him the knife. "I'm counting on you to get us back to your ma; think you are up to the task?" Davy looked behind him, then in front, then at the tree that Matthew had just marked and nodded. "All right then, let's go find that dinner we promised."
They trekked another hour, Matthew not reminding Davy, but proud of the boy when he'd stop to carefully notch a tree. They'd basically followed the river and when Davy put his finger to his lips and then slowly lowered his hand, pointing just ahead of the tree he was marking, Matthew looked and saw the face of a bandit, a mask covering beady, black eyes. It was a fine specimen, and he knew from experience that once cooked, it would taste like the dark meat of a chicken or turkey. The raccoon seemed oblivious to their presence as he stuffed the rest of a fish he'd caught into his mouth. One shot took the animal down, the rifle's crack echoing. Davy startled a bit, Matthew unsure if it was because of the noise or the fact that an animal has just given his life for their sustenance.