“You’re right about that,” Tim replied. “Maybe he owns the house. Where is it, do you know?”
“A mile west of town, according to him. He described it as a green cottage with a white picket fence.”
Tim turned the horse around. “I’m trying not to get my hopes up, Charlie, but I think you might’ve figured out where Simon is keeping Max.”
Tim and Charlotte elected to walk the last quarter mile to the house in order to limit the chance of being spotted. The cottage could be seen in the distance. As they neared, it became clear to Charlotte that Simon’s description of the place had been exaggerated at best. The green paint peeled away from the wood, and nearly every white fencepost was broken or crooked. Weeds grew tall and thick along the path that led to the door.
A weathered barn stood a few paces away, and the door to it was open. Tim and Charlotte crouched behind a collection of tumbleweeds and observed the house and barn for a long while. Charlotte’s legs cramped from the position, but she didn’t dare shift lest the noise give away their presence. After what seemed like hours, they saw exactly what they’d hoped to see—Simon exiting the barn and walking to the house. As soon as he closed the door of the house behind him, Tim and Charlotte exchanged a look that they each read perfectly, and they crept at a light jog to the barn together.
Charlotte covered her mouth to stifle a scream when she saw Max’s slumped, unconscious body tied to a beam. They rushed to him. Tim pulled out a knife from his pocket. He sliced the twine above Max’s purple fingers as Charlotte observed with horror the caked blood in his dark hair.
“Quick,” Tim whispered to Charlotte. “We have to get him awake and out of here.”
“Max, darling,” Charlotte said through her tears. “Wake up.” She placed her palm on his hot forehead and trailed her fingers down his bruised cheek. He didn’t move.
Tim lightly slapped his face on the side that wasn’t bruised and shook his shoulder, to no avail.
“How will we get him out of here? We can’t carry him,” Charlotte said in a frantic whisper.
“No,” Tim agreed. He drew the gun from its holster on his right hip and said, “You keep trying to wake him. I’ll stand by the door and watch for Simon.”
Tim took his post by the barn’s door and Charlotte searched for some clean water. She found a bucket half full of water and sprinkled some on her tongue to test it. Clean enough. She hauled it over to where Max sat and ripped off a strip of her petticoat. After soaking it in the water, she proceeded to dampen Max’s face by pressing the cloth against his skin. He moaned and moved his head a little but still didn’t open his eyes. She soaked the cloth again and held it to a cut on his lip. His mouth opened and he began to suck the water from the cloth thirstily.
“That’s it, my love,” she said, feeling a surge of hope. She filled the bucket’s ladle with water and held it to his lips, and he drank. His eyes opened suddenly after swallowing a few gulps. He looked at Charlotte with amazement and hope.
“Drink some more,” she said, and had a sudden flashback to the day they met, the day he ordered her to do the same.
He drank and then reached his hand up to touch her arm. “Are you real, Charlie, or am I dreaming?”
“I’m real, darling, and we need to get you out of here. Can you walk?”
Charlotte could tell that Max’s mind was processing the information available to him, including the desperate edge to her tone that indicated they were not yet out of danger.
Max’s gaze found Tim at the door. He struggled to his feet. Tim didn’t look at Max, instead keeping his eye fixed on the door of the house, the gun in his hand for immediate use. “Glad you finally woke up,” he said, his voice deeper than how Charlotte remembered it.
“Are you two here alone?” Max asked, incredulous. “Didn’t you bring the marshal?”
“No, Max,” Charlotte answered. “Simon left a note saying that if we did he would…” She choked out the last words. “Kill you.”
“Is that my gun?” Max asked as he walked unsteadily toward the front of the barn with his arm around Charlotte’s shoulders. “Where’s Simon?”
Tim didn’t answer Max’s first question about the gun. “He’s inside the house. I’m going to shoot him when he comes out.”
Max leaned against a beam near the door where Tim stood. “Give me the gun, Tim.”
Tim turned his head to look at him then, his eyes shooting daggers. “Like hell I will, Max. This is my fight, not yours.” He returned his gaze to the house.
“Tim,” Charlotte said in a pleading voice. “Do as Max says.”
Tim ignored her. Max stood upright from the beam and walked to where Tim stood. He placed one hand on his shoulder and reached down. He wrapped his hand slowly over the barrel of the gun, and Tim let it go without further resistance.
“You and Charlotte already saved my life, son. That’s enough heroics for one day.”
“We haven’t saved it yet,” Charlotte hissed. “Simon is still in the house.”
“He’s not much of a threat now that I’m untied and armed,” Max responded. “Let’s go.”
The three of them walked out of the barn and headed for the path.
“Go up ahead,” Max said to them, placing himself between his two rescuers and the house. He walked backwards with his gun trained on the front door as they moved away. Simon didn’t make an appearance. When the house was out of sight, Max stuffed his gun in his trousers, and they walked the quarter mile to the horse without incident.
Max untied the mustang from the tree and held the reins. He looked at Tim and Charlotte with confusion when they didn’t make a move to mount. “Go on,” he said. “What are you two waiting for?”
“Waiting for you to mount the damn horse,” Tim growled. “If you honestly think I’m going to ride instead of you when your head is bashed and you’re bleeding from places I’ve never seen bleed, you have another think coming.”
Max stared at him. “All right, Tim. Geez.” He mounted. “Land’s sake, when did you get such a mouth on you, son?”
“You’re pissing me off,” Tim replied. “And I was scared as hell Simon had…” He didn’t finish the sentence. Charlotte could hear the trace of a sob that choked back his words.
Max heard it too. “No worries, Tim. We’re safe now, and Simon will pay for what he’s done to all of us.”
Chapter Twelve: Brave Man, Capable Woman
Max was right. The marshal arrested Simon later that day, and he informed them after they signed their statements that Simon would likely go to prison for a long time, now that he’d committed a violent crime that could be proven.
The doctor bandaged Max’s head and attended to his other wounds, then instructed Charlotte to observe him overnight. She held his hand all night long and watched him sleep, waking him every once in a while to assure herself he was alive.
Max woke up the next morning in a foul temper. He demanded that Charlotte make his eggs a certain way and not screw them up like she did the last time, and he yelled at Tim for leaving the door open when he left to feed the horse. Tim and Charlotte exchanged looks and rolled their eyes behind his back every time Max barked an order or scolded them for a petty reason, but they did his bidding in silence without argument. They were both so happy he was alive they would have done anything he asked, and they suffered his ill temper in good humor, grateful just to hear his voice, loud and snarly though it was that morning. Charlotte suspected it was more than a headache that had put him in such a bad mood, and they finally learned what was truly bothering him when they sat down to lunch. He ignored the food on his plate and bellowed at them, pounding his fist on the table once before speaking.
“The next time I’m captured by a raving lunatic, I expect you two to bring the marshal, not come alone to rescue me. Got it?”
Tim leaned back in his chair, folded his arms in front of his chest, and glowered at Max.
“I believe I already told you about the note,” Charlot
te said tersely, matching Tim’s defiant attitude. “Simon said he would kill you if we brought the marshal.”
“Goddamn it, Charlie. You think he would’ve not killed me as a way to say thanks for being so obedient? If you wanted to pay mind to Simon’s note and not bring the marshal, you could have at least brought a man. Blazes! A woman and a boy, rescuing me. Of all the nonsense. I would never have forgiven myself if…” Max rubbed his forehead, growing more agitated. “My god, the things he said he would do, I can’t remember if they were part of my nightmares when I was passed out or if he really did say them.”
Charlotte touched his arm. “Max, my love?” she said gently.
“What, darlin’?” he responded, his voice fraught with anxiety and frustration.
She waited a few moments before speaking, and the only noise they heard in that time was the ticking of the clock. When she answered, she spoke softly. “I did bring a man—a brave one. And Tim brought a capable woman. We’re brave and capable partly because of you, because you’ve always believed in the both of us.”
Max frowned at her, then shifted his gaze to Tim, who regarded him with narrowed eyes that dared him to disagree. Max groaned and ran his hand around the beard growing on his face. “I hear you, Charlie,” he said finally.
Tim’s glower turned into a smug smile at Max’s subtle admission. He stood. “Speaking of, I have brave, manly things to do. Like goin’ on a picnic with the seamstress and her daughter that I was invited to when I delivered the hangers. I’ll be off unless you have anything else to yell at me about, Max, in addition to saving your life.”
Max got the sheepish look on his face that Charlotte secretly found adorable.
“I reckon anything else can wait until after your picnic,” Max said gruffly. “And if you bring me one of Marta’s sweet rolls, I’ll forget the whole thing.”
Tim grinned. He said goodbye and left the cabin. Charlotte and Max ate their lunch in silence. When they finished, Charlotte cleared the dishes off the table and washed them in the basin. She stopped scrubbing when she felt Max’s arms wrap around her. He held her gently against his chest and kissed the side of her neck.
“So,” he said in a deep voice close to her ear. “My wife thinks it’s acceptable to put herself in danger on my behalf, does she?” He peppered her neck and ear with soft kisses.
“Yes,” she squeaked.
He nipped her earlobe. “I disagree. You must be punished for that.”
“Max, that’s not fair. I don’t think—”
“It doesn’t matter what you think.” His kisses became more demanding as they traveled over her shoulder. “I decide what’s acceptable and what isn’t,” he said in between nips and kisses.
Charlotte whimpered with desire. He released her all at once, and she whimpered again when her body lost contact with his.
“Meet me in the bedroom for your punishment, young lady,” he said before he left the room.
A wave of arousal washed over her body at the same time her mind protested the injustice of being punished for helping her husband. She slowly dried her hands. Taking a deep breath, she walked into the bedroom to find Max seated on the edge of the bed. He regarded her with his fierce eyes. “Over my lap, wife.”
“But Max, you shouldn’t exert yourself. You’ve been injured. Your wrists—”
“My wrists are fine enough to tan your hide.”
Charlotte proceeded to provide him with her next excuse. “I didn’t do anything wrong by coming for you. I don’t deserve punishment.”
“Are you going to make me come get you?”
Charlotte’s temper flared at his refusal to reason. “Something happened to your head when it got hit, Max. You’re addled.”
“One.”
She stomped her foot. “You’re intolerable!”
“Two.”
“Just how high are you going to count to?”
“Three.”
“Very good, Max. You should teach math to my students.”
He let out a growl and pounced. She squealed as he dragged her to the bed and dropped her on top of it. He straddled her. “Just for that, you’re going to be fully naked when I redden your disobedient, impertinent bottom,” he informed her with a mischievous glint in his eye. He proceeded to tear the dress off her body.
Charlotte watched his face with no small amount of awe as he stripped her with deft hands. When she lay naked on the bed, her clothes in a heap in a corner of the room, he captured a nipple in his mouth and flicked it with his tongue. He fondled her other breast, squeezing and pinching until she arched into his touch.
He removed his mouth from her breast to say, “My wife has a hard time obeying, doesn’t she?”
He didn’t wish to hear an answer because he kissed her when she tried to speak. The warmth of his mouth sent a current through her, and she reached up to wrap her arms around his neck. He grabbed each of her wrists and pinned them high above her head on the bed.
His lips unlocked from hers. “My wife must learn how I feel about a few things.” Max lifted himself off of her and sat on the edge of the bed again. “And she must learn them over my lap. This instant.”
Charlotte sighed and crawled to the position he wished her to take. She felt his cock pressing into her stomach and she squirmed a little over it, knowing it would drive him crazy.
“That’s dangerous, my love,” he rumbled.
His hand settled on her bottom and slowly stroked around the curve to the apex of her legs. He felt the slick proof of her desire. “Mm, naughty girl.” He planted a swat on her left cheek. It wasn’t a gentle swat, but it wasn’t hard either.
“That’s for disobeying me when I told you to come to me for punishment.” He rubbed the place where he’d swatted before bringing his hand down on her other cheek. “And that’s for calling me intolerable. I prefer darling.”
Charlotte moaned. The two swats had sent jolts of pleasure to the lowest part of her tummy.
Spank. “That’s for saving my life.” His hand ran down one of her long legs and back up, then smacked her again. “That’s for being brave in the face of danger on more than one occasion.”
“Oh, Max,” Charlotte sighed.
She understood finally. This was her husband’s way of thanking her for rescuing him despite his displeasure over how it happened. Her eyes filled with tears. Max spanked her mildly for many things, including how smart she was, how fetching she looked in her impractical dresses, and how cute she was when she stormed about sassing him. She laughed and cried over each ridiculous reason for being punished.
He landed one final hard swat and said sternly, “That’s for being so damn loveable, Charlotte. It’s hard on a man’s heart, you know.”
She choked out a laugh through her emotional tears. He lifted her, then pushed her to the middle of the bed, shucked off his clothes, and lay down with her. He pulled her into his arms and kissed her soundly. Charlotte wrapped her arms around his neck and met his passionate kiss with one of her own. When their lips unlocked, he moved his kisses south, starting from between her breasts down to her bellybutton.
“You didn’t have to spank me,” she said. “You could have just said thank you.”
He moved his kisses to between her legs and licked along her slit up to her engorged bundle of nerves. “That wouldn’t have made you this wet, naughty girl.”
He teased her clit with his tongue until her desire grew to massive heights. “Come for me, darlin’,” he said. She shattered, arching her back and grasping the quilt with both hands as she did.
Breathing hard after her moans of release, she threaded her fingers through his hair. “I came for you,” she said breathlessly.
“I know you did, darlin’.” He moved his body over hers and looked deeply into her eyes. “Thanks for coming for me, my love.”
Charlotte smiled, understanding the double meaning of his words. Her hips thrust forward as he invaded her core. He took her hard and fast, with both love and fury, gr
asping her hips to drive himself into her. Just as she was about to come again, he pulled out and flipped her around to take her pussy from behind. He landed hard swats on her sore cheeks as he ravished her, and she moaned at the pain and pleasure his body brought hers. She understood that this was both reward and punishment that he was inflicting, his feelings of love and consternation clear in every movement.
“You’re mine,” he growled in her ear. “And you will obey me and keep yourself safe from now on. Yeah?”
“Mm hmm,” she moaned in the affirmative. He cracked his palm against her right cheek to drive the message home. She came again in that moment. He held fast to her shoulder and rode her fast and hard until his desire built and he erupted. Groaning, he came deep inside of her.
After, Charlotte lay in Max’s arms in a state of perfect happiness. She fell asleep thinking about the day that they met, the day he’d first come for her, and how lucky she was that he had.
Epilogue
Simon died in prison during the time that Tim attended college in New York. Following his graduation, Tim became a lawyer and one of the founders of the New York Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Children (NYSPCC), the first-ever agency devoted entirely to child protection. News of the NYSPCC spread, and soon some three hundred child protection associations were scattered across America. Tim left New York and founded one of the societies in Tucson in 1904.
While away at college, Tim kept in close contact with Max and Charlotte, and also with the seamstress’s daughter, Clara. Tim and Clara married and settled in Tucson, a two-day journey by buggy from Max’s and Charlotte’s home in Weston, and much less than that when Tim bought Max and himself Ford automobiles in 1907.
Charlotte gave birth to five children over the years, three girls and two boys, the eldest of which joined Max in his trade, which by then had evolved from blacksmithing to all but entirely carpentry. His son possessed a unique talent for art and design, so they not only built quality furniture using Max’s talents, but also breakthroughs in style using his son’s. Their furniture became widely popular and replicated for years to come.
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