by Susan Thomas
The Schoolmarm and the Preacher
by
Susan Thomas
All rights reserved
Copyright © April 2017 by Susan Thomas
Published by LSF Publications
http://www.lsfpublications.com/
Cover design by Nathaniel Scott.
All names, characters, organisations, places, events and incidents featured in this work are either products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.
Spanking and sexual activities represented in this book are fantasies only.
No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
When Annie McWilliams arrives in Kirkham with her two young children, she is given a warm welcome and taken to a small house that has been made ready for the town's new schoolmarm. Delighted with her new surroundings, Annie quickly settles in, eager to leave her troubled past behind and make a fresh start in life. Her first encounter with Reverend James Daffern occurs when he saves her children from drowning in the river. She finds him very attractive, and James is extremely taken with the pretty young widow. But when Annie disobeys the Sheriff's instructions by exploring an unrespectable part of town, she learns she is to be spanked for her disobedience, and as she has no husband, James Daffern is the man for the job.
Acutely embarrassed, Annie takes her punishment ... and given her headstrong nature, it turns out to be the first of several discipline sessions with the good-looking preacher. As time passes, their romance grows, and when James asks Annie to be his wife, she accepts gladly ... yet she is reluctant to set a date for the wedding. She has a secret which weighs heavy on her shoulders ... but she is not the only one with a secret past. As events unfold, the truth comes to light ... but how will the revelations affect Annie's future?
Contents
Foreword
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Epilogue
Also from LSF Publications...
Foreword
This story is set in the town of Kirkham, USA, at the latter end of the nineteenth century, around 1880. Kirkham was the setting for Elizabeth's Flight, but this novella is not a sequel. Some of the characters from Elizabeth's Flight also appear in this book, which may be read as a standalone novella.
My heroine, Annie McWilliams, faces the very real question of whether a married woman can be a teacher. It is not something questioned today, but that was not always so. In the United Kingdom, the Sex Disqualification Removal Act of 1919 made it possible for married women to teach. However, there was such prejudice against it that local education authorities put bars in place and even sacked married women teachers. It wasn't until World War Two that the bars were removed. The situation in the USA was similar, although there was no actual legal bar to a married woman working as a teacher, school districts put bars in place. It wasn't until 1941 that state Supreme Courts began to remove those bars. In that respect, Kirkham was both of its time and, by the end of the story, ahead of it.
In other respects, Kirkham may shock you. Women, especially wives, are expected to be accountable to their husbands. Sometimes this may involve them in getting a good spanked bottom. Their husbands do love and care for them but there is no hesitation, if they behave badly, in baring their bottoms and setting them on fire with hand, hairbrush or strap. Even if you wouldn't like to be such a wife, you might enjoy a little peep into a different age, when the roles of men and women were more clearly defined.
Chapter 1
The train journey had seemed endless, and occupying two young children, never mind keeping them clean, had been very wearing, but she was starting a new life and the journey was essential.
"Excuse me ma'am, but we will be in Kirkham in about thirty minutes. I thought you'd like to get ready." It was the conductor, a kindly man who approved of the quiet, undemanding woman and her two well behaved children.
"Oh, thank you so much. You've been so kind to us."
"Not at all ma'am. It's been a pleasure and I'll help you down with your luggage. I don't know of anyone else getting off there."
When the conductor moved on she called her two children to come close. She spoke first to her son. "Harold, we will be in Kirkham soon. What is your name?"
"Harold McWilliams, mama, and I am seven years old."
She gave him a hug, pleased that she had been sensible enough to retain their first names. "Can you spell out your surname for me?"
"Sure can. It's easy." He spelled it out correctly even managing a 'big M' and a 'big W'.
"What about you Amelia darling, can you tell me your name?"
"Amelia, Mama."
"That's good, but what about your other name?"
"Macwill." Amelia sounded doubtful.
Her mother smiled. "McWilliams, darling. Say it for me."
Amelia repeated it uncertainly but her mother wasn't worried. It wasn't an easy surname and no one would notice if a five-year-old wasn't sure. As she got the children ready to leave she felt distinctly nervous. It was essential that she gave no indication that she was not who she said she was.
As the train pulled into Kirkham halt she could see some people waiting. They were probably from the town council, there to greet her as the new schoolteacher. She should be able to deduce who they were from the correspondence she had received. There was an older couple who she took to be Mayor Spencer and his wife; another tall man was wearing a star on his jacket so he was clearly Sheriff Flight, husband to the lady from whom she was taking over; and standing next to him was a very young woman of possibly nineteen or twenty. Who that was she wasn't sure. Perhaps a daughter or maybe someone they'd brought to help with her children.
The conductor was true to his word and was active in getting her luggage off the train. The two men waiting helped and the younger woman helped her children down. She gave the conductor a tip, and her profuse thanks, and the children waved to the train as it pulled away.
"Mrs. McWilliams? I can't see you could be anyone else. I'm Mayor Spencer. Welcome to the town of Kirkham, Mrs. McWilliams. These two must be your son Harold and your daughter Amelia."
The children shyly acknowledged their inclusion in the greeting and Mayor Spencer continued. "Introductions: this is my wife Mary; my good friend, and the sheriff, Henry Flight, and his wife Beth. It is Beth who has been teaching our school and helped choose you to take over from her."
"Oh! Mrs. Flight, I felt sure that you must be older as you seemed so experienced in our correspondence. You asked so many excellent questions I thought you must be a teacher of vast experience."
Her husband laughed. "No, my Beth just has a real gift. Came here and started the school off. All there was before was the building and unpacked equipment but we're real delighted you'll be taking over."
Mrs. Mary Spencer scolded them all for keeping the, "...poor woman, not to mention the children, standing here..." Soon everything was loaded into a carriage and they all set off for the small house that had been rented for the new schoolteacher and her children. It turned out to be a delightful property, quite secluded by trees, and set back from the road that led to the school, which was only a short walk away. There was a woodshed to the left of the property and a privy at the back. Although small, it was well maintained, and inside, Mrs. Annie McWilliams, as she was to be known, was astonished to find that it had been simply but nicely furnished with new curtains on the windows a
nd even clean fresh bedding on the already made up beds.
"Oh my," she exclaimed, "this is so lovely. You've been to so much trouble."
"Nonsense!" Mary Spencer was brisk. "Couldn't have you arrive with two small children without making sure you had somewhere fit to live. Now Beth here will help you settle in and you'll all come around to our house for a meal tonight."
Beth Flight, the current schoolteacher, exuded a warmth and kindness that was impossible not to like. Earlier that morning she had lit a fire under the boiler to ensure that there would be plenty of hot water for baths.
"I too made a long train journey to get here and I know you'll want to bath the children and yourself."
While the two children excitedly explored the house, Beth and Annie filled a zinc bath with warm water. Harold didn't seem embarrassed that Beth stayed to help his mother bath the two of them. When they were dried and dressed Beth helped Annie empty the zinc bath using jugs until it was low enough for them to carry it outside. They then refilled it for Annie herself.
"I'll mind the children until you've done. Go along now, take all the time you want."
Annie McWilliams sat in the bath luxuriating in the warm water and wondering at the kindness shown to her. Kirkham must be as friendly a place as the letters had suggested. The advertisements for a replacement teacher had stood out from all the others for reasons she couldn't fathom. Kirkham seemed to call to her from the beginning. Was this, at last, an end to her troubles? She knew that she had brought her troubles on herself, but troubles they had been, and she was determined to end them. The question that still worried her was whether deceit was the best means; but Annie McWilliams was a deceit and she was most definitely not the respectable widow they took her to be.
Later, when she and the children arrived at the Mayor's house she found Henry Flight already there. He was a fine looking man, she thought, and he and Beth were clearly much in love. There was a boy of about ten named Arthur; Beth had warned her that he was recently adopted by the Spencers and not to probe too much. He was one of their pupils, she had said, and very smart indeed. Arthur was very good with her two children and it was a delightful evening; Annie relaxed and felt included in the shared warmth of these good people.
It was a Thursday, and Annie had assumed she would have to teach the next day, but that was not the case. Beth explained that the Town Council had closed the school for this day to let her meet and greet the new teacher who would not start until the Monday.
"Now you are to do nothing but settle in over the next three days. I have all the preparation in hand for next week; you will simply assist me and get to know the children for that whole week. You can take over the week after."
Annie was amazed at the thoughtfulness and consideration that had been put into her arrival.
Her first night in her new home... her new life, and Annie planned in her head how to use the three days she had been given to settle in. Tomorrow was Friday, and she would spend that day unpacking, organizing the house to her satisfaction and going to the store to get some provisions. The children would be happy to play outside and explore their new surroundings. She fell asleep still planning and then she began to dream.
She was back in her childhood home and she was in trouble. She wasn't the eighteen-year-old she'd been when she finally left home, but as she was now, nearly thirty, with two children. In her dream, her father was alive as she remembered him. Tall and strong, he was a blacksmith with a thriving business, a man with a simple attitude to troublesome girls... except she was no longer a girl.
"But Daddy..."
"Hush child. I'll take no back talk or arguing. You've done wrong my girl."
"I know, Daddy."
"You've gone against all your mom and I taught you."
"I'm sorry, Daddy."
"And now this deceitful behavior. Pretending you're a widow lady. Shame on you, child."
"But..."
"No buts, deceit is a wickedness of Satan and you have tainted money."
"I took it from him. It's for emergencies and for the children's future. He owes them that much."
"Don't you argue, my girl. Stolen money, that's what that is and the Lord knows how he got it... no good way that's for sure. You deserve a good hard spanking my girl."
"Daddy! Please no."
"Woodshed child, and be quick about it."
Naturally she obeyed, wondering how her beloved daddy could be alive again, but obedient. She'd trodden that path to the woodshed many times before and knew exactly how she would soon be feeling. No use pleading with Daddy, for once he decided on a spanking, a spanking was what she got. Inside the woodshed nothing seemed to have changed. There was the crude bench he had made and now she stood before it. There on the wall hung the strap, carefully oiled to keep it supple, that had blistered her bottom so many times.
When he came in she had to say it. "Daddy, I'm so glad you're alive. I'm so sorry for all I put you and Mom through."
"We never stopped loving you child but that isn't gonna stop this spanking happening."
Even in her dream, she was wearing only her nightdress, so gathering it up around her waist before placing herself over his lap was simple. Her daddy's large calloused hand smacked down with all the power of his blacksmith's arm and she cried out as always. Smack after smack rained down on her poor bottom until her legs were kicking and the tears flowed. He would spank until her bottom was a scalding red all over... and he did. She lay over his lap sobbing at how much her bottom burned and stung. But her punishment was not done.
He let her up and then said, "Fetch me the strap down, child."
Pleading at this stage was pointless so she removed the strap from its hook and handed it to him. Without a word, she hitched up her nightdress again, and bent over placing her hands on the bench. She heard the whistle of the strap and screwed up her face. The strap laid itself across her hot, sore bottom with a nasty cracking sound. A burning line was left... followed by burn on burn. Whistle was followed by crack, again and again, until she screeched at each one, and finally her punishment stopped. Then came the part she had longed for. Her father took her in his bear like arms and held him tight to her.
"Oh Daddy," she sobbed, "I have been so very, very foolish."
When she awoke, her pillow was wet with the tears she had shed but her bottom was unmarked. She almost wished it wasn't.
---oOo---
The Reverend James Daffern woke abruptly. It had been that nightmare again and he was covered in sweat; he had been back there as the gang attacked the innocent family with their wagon. Luckily the woman was too old for the gang, and there were no girls, for their fate would have been a dreadful one. Luckily too the family had fought back so were killed swiftly. He could not say what, of all the horrors he had witnessed and participated in, made this one seem so awful. It wasn't by any means the worst but it was that young man who upset him so much. The same age as him, he had lain on his back, gun in hand, and riddled with bullets. His mother lay beside him, her arms around him. She had survived the slaughter of her husband and five boys and rushed to the side of this one. Perhaps her son had still breathed a little. Andrew Becker had ridden up and looked down at her with that cold look he always had. He was assessing her value as a woman and, deciding she had none, shot her straight through the head.
It was then he had made his decision. As the gang rode off he had quietly slipped away and ridden back to the looted wagon and its dead guardians. He had found the young man again and taken his identity: James Jacob Daffern. He spoke to his mother though she would never hear the words.
"I'll live his life for him. It will be a good life and I will do penance always for this deed and all the others."
He had kept his word. He went right away and found work, saving his money and studying in his little spare time, until he could get into Bible college. Kirkham had been the first church he had charge of and he loved it. He had worked tirelessly for the people, not just conducting weddin
gs and funerals, but trying hard to get help for the poor, the sick and the inadequate of this world. He sometimes wondered if it was right to enjoy his penance but he did: he felt this was the life he had been really born to. None of that stopped the nightmares. They came, not every night, but regularly enough that he dreaded sleep. It had been weeks, in fact months, since the last one, but last night had been the most vivid ever: the young James Daffern lying with the blood fresh on his body with his mother holding him, keening softly, then the casually cold shot that hit her head sending her to join her family.
When he had the nightmare, he had discovered that there was only one thing to be done... walk. He would walk, sometimes for hours, talking both to himself and to his God, until eventually he came to terms with what had happened, and he could go back again to his work. It didn't matter he had never done those dreadful deeds; he had been there, his presence an acquiescence. He knew the reason of course... Andrew Becker. He had never been afraid of any other man, never backed down in a fight, never shirked a challenge. He had been wild but not evil. Then he met Andrew. He knew himself as strong, if not stronger, than Andrew but he could never win a fight with him. Something in the man paralyzed him every time and Andrew knew it; the man rejoiced in his power, forcing him to run with the gang he formed, delighting in committing the vilest deeds and having him watch.
He walked briskly, his feet taking him where they would, but vaguely knowing he was in the vicinity of the school. Children's cries came to his ears. For a moment he smiled; he loved seeing children at play, with their whole-hearted engagement in the fantasy world they created which no adult could do. He wondered just when it was we lost that ability to see make-believe as real. Then a chill went through him. Those were not the cries of play. They were cries of alarm and distress.