by Starla Kaye
Angelica strolled over into their uncomfortably quiet midst and handed him another glass of whiskey. “That’s it for the night, Adam. You can barely sit upright as it is.”
“Give it a rest, Ange,” Ben said grimly. “He’s hurting.”
She looked at Adam, sympathy in her eyes. Ben had told him that he’d shared with her some of Adam’s past. He didn’t like other people knowing. It was his private business. But she and Ben were close, very close. Too close, in his opinion. He didn’t like the idea of his brother hooking up with a saloon owner, possibly a former whore…although no one knew for sure about that.
“I’m not talking about that. Understood?” He glared at each of his brothers individually and at Angelica.
Angelica let it go, but pointedly said, “All right. Let’s talk about your pigheaded attitude of late toward Faith. Let’s talk about your idiotic comment concerning her deciding to wear britches while working at the mercantile. Something that makes perfect sense, if you really thought about all the bending over she’ll do. All the boxes she’ll haul around.”
Adam watched Ben look curiously at Angelica, saw his eyes heat and his gaze moving over his woman. He had a pretty good idea that his brother was envisioning the seriously sexy brunette in britches…and then stripping her out of those britches. Much the same thought he’d had about Faith, admiring the way the britches had gently hugged her fine ass. And how he’d also briefly toyed with the idea of seeing her out of them. Lately, when he hadn’t been grieving over losing his son, he’d spent too much time thinking about Faith…in and out of clothes.
Forcing those thoughts aside, he growled, “A decent lady wears a dress.”
Ben took offense to the decent lady part as Adam frowned at Angelica. “Are you wanting a fight, big brother? Because I sure as hell will–”
Before either of his other brothers could dive into the conversation, Adam muttered a curse and then snagged Angelica’s gaze. “I wasn’t talking about you…I mean I wasn’t implying…”
She smiled in amusement. “No offense taken.” Then she sobered and pressed, “So, you planning on apologizing to Faith? Smoothing down Annabelle’s ruffled feathers, too?”
“There’s nothing to apologize to Faith about. She has her opinion. I have mine.” He swallowed the shot of whiskey. “But I’ll speak to Annabelle. She means a lot to me.” He glanced at his brothers. “To all of us.”
Daniel captured his attention with a scowl. “My Jennie is all upset because you’ve hurt her friend’s feelings. I don’t like my wife being upset. You need to settle things between you and Faith.”
“It’s my business what goes on between Faith and me.” Still, it bothered him that he might have hurt Faith, even if he believed he was right about the britches situation. He was certain if she went around wearing those too–snug–fitting pants and caught the attention of even one cowboy, soon there would be a line of them through the mercantile and on out the door. Every one of the no–goods lusting after her.
“I might call a truce, but I am not changing my mind about those damn britches.” With that said, he shoved back his chair and stood. He walked away and his brothers had the good sense to let him leave in peace.
* * *
Faith paced uneasily around her bedroom. She hated waiting for her father when he intended to punish her, but he always took his time until he was good and ready. Her thoughts drifted back to Adam, as they did all too often. The stubborn man was breaking her heart by being so impossible about giving in to feelings she was certain he had for her. She didn’t really want to live her life alone as a spinster woman, but she would if she couldn’t have Adam. He was the only man she would ever love. Big, stupid, stubborn man.
She stopped at the lace curtain–covered window and looked down Main Street. It would still be another hour or so before the sun went down, but already ranch hands were drifting into town and heading for the saloon. She could see most of the town’s businesses from here. The barbershop was closed, just as it had been from not long after Adam had rushed out of the mercantile. The mercantile, too, was closed for the day. Was Annabelle feeling poorly again? Was she upstairs in her apartment even now? She should be going to check on the kindly older woman instead of being up here waiting for her father.
The batwing doors to the Tumbleweed Saloon burst open and she watched Adam come striding out. For a second he glanced toward her house and then he strode briskly toward the barbershop, which he lived above. ‘She needs her mouth washed out with soap…a hand applied to…’ His words made her bristle with indignation. She’d said nothing wrong, maybe she’d spoken a little coarsely, but it had been the truth. Although not one of the men who’d come courting her had actually said they wanted in her bloomers, she’d seen it in their eyes. She’d noticed the erections pushing at the front of their trousers. Her father would be horrified to learn she knew about such things, but she wasn’t as naïve as everyone seemed to believe.
She heard her father’s heavy footsteps heading in her direction. Well, she was going to get part of what Adam thought she needed: a hand applied to her bottom. Actually, she was almost certain she would get worse than that. Her father had been quite upset with her daring to go against him. She moved away from the window, resigned.
Her father walked into the room and closed the door behind him. He carried the much–dreaded razor strop. Her stomach tightened. For a second her thoughts went to the open window. Fortunately their house was at the end the street and no others were close by. Her cries would not be heard, except by her mother, who had heard them before.
“Take the position, daughter.” He nodded toward the end of her bed. “Unless you will be changing your mind. Will you?”
Grimly, she shook her head and moved to stand facing the bed. Knowing what was expected, she tugged up her long skirt and bent forward, resting her forearms on the feather mattress, holding her skirt out of the way as well. Her long braid fell over her shoulder and brushed her face.
Her father stepped beside her and parted the back of her drawers to bare her bottom and her face flamed in humiliation.
“You live in my house, under my rules. I expect to be obeyed, which you well know, daughter.” He laid the cold leather against her still cool buttocks. “You can be willful at times, like now. I believe it is improper for you to be working in the mercantile. Two women alone like that…it’s not a good situation.”
“Nothing has happened to Annabelle,” Faith protested. She wished he would just get on with this unpleasantness. Yet she refused to demand he do it.
“Because she isn’t a beautiful young woman. Once word gets out that you are working there basically alone…” He drew in a deep breath. “It isn’t safe, I say. But you’re determined to do this anyway, aren’t you?”
“We’ll be fine. I’ll be fine. Adam works right next door and he…” She let the thought fade away. It wasn’t his place to watch after her. “I can take care of myself.”
Her father snorted in disagreement. “You need a good man to take care of you, to give you babies.” He sounded distressed, worried about her, but determined.
“I’m not marrying anyone,” she bit out. Not if she couldn’t have Adam, which didn’t appear likely. “Just do this, since you seem to think it necessary.”
The first lash landed and she shot forward, gasping. Fire blazed along the line of where he’d struck her. She shouldn’t have pushed her father.
“So you’re determined to go against me on this matter? Even at the threat of a sound thrashing.”
She knew he was still hoping she’d change her mind, see reason, his reason. Instead she gripped the quilt tightly, forced herself to remain still. “Yes, I’m going against you, if that’s how you see it.”
“That’s exactly how I see it.”
The thrashing began in earnest then. When he decided to give a stropping, he made it memorable. The sound of leather landing on flesh echoed around the room.
Tears streamed down her fa
ce. Her fingers ached from clutching the quilt so tightly. She danced up and down on her toes, hissing as the lashes fell. She desperately wanted it to end.
“Change your mind, Faith Marie, and the thrashing stops.” He held the now hot razor strop against her burning bottom.
She could end this suffering, but it would be the wrong decision. She settled into position again and said shakily but with determination, “No. I’ve made my decision.”
“Very well. Then we’ll continue.” He thrashed her with a biting strike.
She cried out, “Ohhhhh, God!”
“Do not use the Lord’s name in vain.” He landed two more quick lashes to the under curve of her bottom, causing her to arch upward and scream out. He ignored her cries that were part of the punishment. “You will understand exactly how against this foolish idea I am by the time we’re done.”
* * *
Her father put his hands at her waist and lifted Faith out of the buggy. She felt great relief to be standing and shifted quietly to the side. She watched her mother wince as she scooted across the seat and allowed her husband to lift her down as well. Guilt threaded through her. She regretted that her father had seen fit to spank her mother after giving her a sound thrashing. But she’d heard her mother raising her voice in anger and even going so far as to throw something at him. Her mother was not always the quiet, subdued woman that many people believed she was. She had a temper. Both being redheads, both she and her mother were known to be a bit hotheaded at times. Although it usually meant they paid for their fits of temper with a very sore bottom.
Her father looked lovingly at her mother. In turn, she smiled at him, slipping her hand in the crook of his arm. Once a punishment was delivered the matter was settled. Even Faith was no longer upset with her father. She knew he loved her. They often disagreed, but she loved him, too.
She smoothed down her skirt and prepared herself to sit for the next hour on a hard pew as Caleb delivered a sermon. It wasn’t going to be pleasant. She’d had to sleep on her stomach and even by morning she still felt the effects of the stropping. The short ride here in the buggy hadn’t helped. But they never missed going to church unless one of them was quite ill. Having to sit on a tender bottom was not an excuse, in her father’s opinion. And after suffering being disciplined, neither she nor her mother would dare to risk another session for going against him again.
“Still planning on working at the mercantile?” a deep voice questioned behind her.
She noted her father’s immediate frown and then he hustled her mother toward the church steps without saying a word. Nerves fluttering in her stomach, Faith faced Adam. He looked so handsome in his Sunday best trousers, white shirt, and jacket. She wanted to throw herself into his arms, wanted him to hold her.
“Yes.” She turned to follow after her parents.
Adam snagged her arm and stopped her. “Angelica tells me I need to apologize to you, but I won’t. I don’t like the idea of you working there.” His brow pinched. “I especially don’t like the crazy notion of you wearing britches there.”
“My father wasn’t in favor of the idea of me working there either.” She jerked her arm free and felt her face heat. Why had she said that? What would he think?
He studied her for a second and then he dared to place one of his big hands against her skirt–covered bottom. She flinched, her face heating even more. The awful man grinned. “Burned your butt, did he?”
She was glad nobody else was nearby. “If he did, it is none of your business.”
He chuckled and let her walk away. But he caught up to her and said so only she would hear, “I’m going to enjoy sitting behind you this morning, watching you squirm around on your sore little ass.”
She gave him her fiercest glower. “That’s an awful thing to say, Adam Braddock.”
“Just so you know, I would have taken my belt to your sweet butt.”
She stomped away, ignoring how much each stomp caused the skirt and drawers to rub her tender bottom. He was an impossible man. She should want nothing more to do with him. Yet…
He walked past her, whistling. Grinning, too. Fool man!
Chapter Two
Faith walked briskly away from her family’s house at the far end of Main Street, enjoying the slight breeze and the early morning coolness of the mid–August day. No doubt by afternoon the heat would be almost unbearable.
She sensed her father’s disapproving gaze following her from the front window. He hadn’t said any more on the matter since the stropping. He’d made his disapproval to her decision about helping out at the mercantile very clear. Even over a day later, when her drawers and skirt rubbed wrong, she still felt slight tingles on her tender bottom. But she was much better today and her focus shifted to the commitment she’d made.
She hurried along the dirt road, dust flying up around her long skirt. Today she would purchase the britches just as she’d planned to do. There was much moving around of boxes and crates in the store’s back room that needed doing. And she wanted to clean along the lower parts of the three long glass cases. Annabelle hadn’t been able to do a thorough cleaning in a while due to her health issues, but Faith planned to take care of it. Her thoughts were consumed by all that she needed to learn, all that she wanted to do to help out. This was all so new to her and exciting.
“Mornin’, Miss Faith,” Harmon Dogwood called out. “You headed for the mercantile?”
Her heart raced at being jarred from her thoughts. She glanced at the string–bean lean man who had stopped sweeping off the wooden boardwalk in front of the Dry Creek Hotel. His rather plump and noisy wife, Katherine, moved into the open doorway of their hotel and looked at her, too. Faith didn’t doubt for a second that most folks between here and Dodge City knew her plans to work in the general store. She figured that most of the townspeople would also have learned that her father didn’t approve.
She gave a weak smile sigh of resignation and felt her face heat knowing that the Dogwoods had been in church yesterday and probably noticed her shifting awkwardly on the pew. As with other times before, she accepted that her personal business had become something of public knowledge. Nothing she could do about that except let them think what they may.
“Yes, I’ll be helping Annabelle for a while.” She didn’t want to pursue a conversation, so she continued on her way.
Considering that it was still fairly early, there was limited traffic on Main Street. A buckboard rattled from around the other end of the road and stopped at the big open doors of the livery and blacksmith shop. Two cowboys wandered out of Delman’s Gun and Hardware Store across from the livery. Other than that it was quiet yet.
Annabelle had just opened the mercantile’s front door when Faith drew in a steadying breath and walked inside. The large room still held lingering darkness in corners, but with the large window and a kerosene lantern lit it wasn’t too bad.
“I was wondering if you would be in today,” Annabelle said in greeting. She flashed an understanding look. “I would have understood if you weren’t.”
Faith headed directly for the back room. “I assume the clothes I picked out the other day are still put aside for me.” She didn’t want to waste any more time and effort talking about her getting disciplined. What was done was done.
She hesitated in the doorway and glanced back, took a good look at the older woman. Annabelle still looked a bit washed – out. “After you show me how to keep track of sales, why don’t you go upstairs and lie down for a while. I can handle the business.”
Annabelle leaned against one of the glass cases, a hand to her chest. “I’m doing all right, really. Just have trouble catching my breath now and then.”
“Should I go find Doc?” Faith worried about her friend, but Annabelle could be stubborn at times. She didn’t want to push her and upset her.
“No. I’ll be just fine, dear.” She waved Faith toward the back. “You go ahead and change clothes.” Then she grinned, mischief dancing in her eyes
. “That’ll stir Adam up when he stops in later, which I know he will.”
Faith huffed and glanced at the open front door. “What I do, what I wear is none of his business. I’m just being practical.”
She marched into the back and quickly changed clothes. The britches were a little tighter than she’d remembered across her backside. But they didn’t rub any more than her skirt had. Satisfied that she was dressed properly for what she had in mind, she headed out into the main room.
And nearly plowed into the scowling man she’d wanted to avoid.
The man looked sinfully handsome in spite of the frown on his ruggedly carved face. In his black trousers and white shirt, sleeves rolled up to reveal muscled forearms, he was far too good to stare at. So she forced herself to stop. He didn’t need to know how attracted she was to him. Especially now that she’d decided she wanted nothing to do with him. She’d done her last foolish chasing after the likes of Adam Braddock.
“Is there something we can help you with, Mr. Braddock?” She tried to brush by him, but the big lug shifted into her path.
“I just stopped in to see if you would really show up today.” He didn’t look ready to move out of her way. His expression darkened as his gaze shifted down and he took in her pants.
She bristled, prepared to give him a good piece of her mind, but Annabelle gave a quiet cough and drew their attention. All thoughts of the bothersome man in front of her fled. She shoved him aside and scurried across the store.
“Annabelle, I’m going to insist that you go lie down.” Her stomach quivered with nerves. Could she really handle the store’s business on her own? How could she not?