by Lee Savino
In no time he was at her side, dark brows glowering at her.
"Come," he said through gritted teeth, catching her arm and pulling her along faster.
"I lost my escort," she started to explain.
"We'll speak of it back at the inn." His long legs ate up the street, and Esther trotted beside him to keep up.
When they reached the inn, Esther's escort was standing in the parlor, looking relieved. "There she is, Mr. Shepherd. You found her."
Johnathan thanked them and took their leave, leading Esther to their rooms with a firm hand on her elbow.
Esther went slowly, knowing what was coming. As soon as she was inside the room, she whirled to face her husband.
"I'm sorry, Johnathan, I did not mean to leave them. My errand was finished and I only thought to amuse myself until they were done."
Johnathan said nothing, but stared down until Esther shrank under his severe expression.
"I lost track of time," she whispered.
Silently, Johnathan removed his jacket and rolled up his shirt sleeves. Esther felt a quiver at the sight of his muscled arms, but kept to her plea.
"I was with my escort, but didn't want to rush them."
"So you went into a saloon?" Johnathan bent to rummage through their bags. When he finished and unfolded to his full height, he held a long, thin stick of light brown wood.
Esther found her mouth was suddenly dry. "I didn't know that's what it was—there was a sign that said free lunch."
Crossing to the bed, Johnathan laid the instrument of punishment on the bed. "It's free because they expect you to drink the whiskey. What happened to the money I gave you for food?"
"I spent it. The drawers cost more than I thought."
"Show me." Reluctantly, she handed him the parcel.
When he opened it and saw the fine white fabric, he shut his eyes.
That's when Esther knew she was in for a spanking of a lifetime.
It was a full minute before Johnathan spoke. "Undress and lean over the bed."
Feeling a little sick, Esther pulled of her layers, stripping completely. When she was done, she wrapped her arms around herself and shivered, feeling very vulnerable in front of her fully clothed, grim-faced husband.
Approaching the bed, she hesitated. The long stick of wood looked very wicked.
"Now, Esther."
Quickly, she lay face down, leaning on her elbows, keeping the wooden implement in her sights.
Her husband came beside her and grasped her bottom firmly; she whimpered even as he warmed her up.
"Do you know why you're being punished?"
"I left my escort and went to a saloon."
"You disobeyed me." His hand came down in a steady rhythm, striking all over her bottom. "I made it clear that you were to stay with your escort. Wandering off alone, without telling anyone, isn't safe."
"Nothing happened," she whined, and his hand fell harder, making her jump.
"That's not the point. We're in a strange city filled with travelers. Something could have happened. And what's more," his hand stopped to squeeze her cheeks, already stinging and warm, "you have a habit of doing this, and we're about to cross many miles of dangerous country. I cannot allow you to misunderstand the risk; you must learn this lesson now."
As he spoke, the spanking intensified, so Esther was squirming under his hand and crying out. Her bottom already felt hot.
"Oh, Johnathan, please. I'm sorry."
"Hold still." He put a hand on the small of her back to steady her, and continued laying slaps on one side of her bottom, then the other. Her feet danced on the floor, trying to wriggle out from under the pain.
"I won't do it again; I promise."
"I know you won't, Esther." He paused and sat down on the bed, pulling her over his lap. "I'm going to make sure of it." And his hand continued to levy punishment to her throbbing cheeks while she squealed and kicked her feet.
The minutes passed like hours, and Esther begged over and over for the punishment to stop. Each smack added another layer of sting to her already throbbing bottom, but, unbelievably, she felt herself growing wet. The ache spiraled down between her legs. Aroused, she rubbed her breasts against the coverlet, adding some pleasure to the pain.
"Naughty girl," her husband growled, and set her on her feet. She went to grab her bottom, but a glare from him stayed her hands.
"Go to the corner, and stand with your nose touching the wall. Think on what you've done. You'll be making apologies to the Smith's later for leaving them and causing them worry."
Huffing with pain, she moved slowly to get her dress.
"No clothes."
"Yes, sir." She crossed and put her nose to the wall, her smarting bottom the only thing she could think of. She was sure her two cheeks now looked like hot coals.
"You stay there," he said. I'm going to see if I can return these drawers and get the ones you need."
"But—" She started to turn and met his blazing anger.
"Face to the wall, Esther. If I find you've moved, you will receive more strokes with the cane."
The cane! Squeezing her eyes shut, she held very still. She'd been birched as a child, but her parents usually preferred a hand or a switch. Her brother's schoolmaster used a cane, and they reported it was horrible.
Fear kept her in place, even though she did glance behind her a few times. She was shifting from foot to foot when she heard the door open.
"You're fortunate, my dear." She heard a rustle of paper as he set the package on the bed. "The shopkeeper understood. I paid extra for his trouble."
She waited, nose to the wall, for instructions.
"Esther, come here."
Her husband was sitting on the bed, and pulled her in between his legs. "You know why I must punish you?"
"To keep me from disobeying."
His brown eyes were soft, and his hand stroked back the hair from her face. "You have a beautiful spirit. I don't want you to be hurt."
"I understand. I'm sorry."
"I know you are." He stood. "Lean over the bed. "Five strokes with the cane. You will count."
Esther lay down again and gripped the coverlet.
At the first strike, pain exploded through her and all other thoughts flew out of her mind.
"One, sir," her husband prompted, and Esther managed to repeat it.
The rest were all the same, but by the fourth, she did a little dance, coming off the bed.
Her husband waited a moment, then gathered her hands behind her back and held them for her.
"Thank you," she gasped, resuming position. Her tears were now running unchecked down her face.
The final stroke landed, and she eked out the count, then let her head fall forward onto the bed. She felt her husband examine her marks, touching just outside the stinging lines.
"Well done, Esther," he said, lying down next her. She turned to him, hanging on and soaking his shirt with her tears.
"I'm sorry," she sobbed. "You must have been so worried."
"Shocked, actually. I saw you alone on the street, and then you walked into the saloon. At first I wasn't sure it was really you."
"I'll try to be good from now on."
"You are good. You are my good girl, and you took your correction well. It's a pleasure to teach you how to be better."
She slept on her stomach, waking when her husband rolled out of bed and went to the door. He spoke in urgent tones to someone in the hall, then came back and turned on the lamp.
"Esther," he whispered. "I must go. A family has fallen sick, and I am the closest doctor."
Rising up, she watched him pack a bag with his instruments and medicines. For their four month long journey, he'd brought only two changes of clothes, leaving more room for his medical supplies.
He looked up, brown hair falling into his face as she came around the bed.
"Let me come with you, Johnathan."
He nodded, and she quickly dressed, then followed him out o
f the room.
A man waited by the inn door, twisting his hat in his hand.
"Lead the way," Johnathan said.
They hurried down dark streets until they came to a little house. A family huddled in the parlor, lamplight flickering on worried faces. In the small, dank back room, a young girl lay on a pallet with her eyes half closed.
Johnathan knelt beside the bed, pulling the lamp closer to examine his patient, while her parents hovered in the doorway.
"Hello, sweetheart," he whispered to the girl, checking her forehead with one hand. "Where does it hurt?" The child stared up with glassy eyes.
Her mother hovered over the bed. "She kept complaining of her stomach. She wouldn't eat so I sent her out without any breakfast. Her brother found her lying on the rocks by the stream, curled up in pain." The woman rocked back and forth, burying her head in her hands. "We thought it was just a fever, but it's been two days."
"It's all right," Esther took her arm and led her from the room. "My husband is a good doctor, but he needs you to be strong now, for your daughter. Can you do that?" Stopping in the hall, Esther waited until the woman nodded. "Go boil some water." The woman hurried off, and Esther went to the front room, where the older siblings lay draped around the table, looking exhausted and worried.
Esther put her hand on the oldest boy's shoulders. "Do you have any extra blankets?"
Nodding, he went back to the only bedroom that now housed the sick child and returned with a few woolen coverlets. Esther directed the children to lie down in the front room.
"You need your rest. You can't help your sister by staying up all night."
The father came in. "Doctor wants you."
She pulled out a chair for the exhausted man, and left him slumped against the table.
"Johnathan?" She pushed open the door. Her husband turned towards her, looking ten years older.
"Her fever's bad. Normally I'd let it burn out, but I don't think she'll last the night."
She went to her side and put her hand on his shoulder. "What's wrong?"
"Her appendix is inflamed." His hand covered hers. "There's a procedure but it is risky, and I hesitate to do it in this environment."
"Her mother said that she's been like this for days. Why wasn't a doctor called sooner?"
"There isn't one. Not on this side of town. Only a barber-surgeon, and the family paid all they had for him to come and do nothing."
Esther watched the little girl labor for breath, then took her husband's hand. "Johnathan, you can help her. I know you can."
"I must." He squeezed her hand, then grew brisk. "Get the parents. I will explain what must be done."
They moved the kitchen table into the bedroom, the scene of the surgery. At the first incision, the father, who was holding the girl, grew faint, and Esther sent him out and took his place. The mother slept in the corner while Johnathan worked with Esther at his side into the wee hours.
Dawn broke before Johnathan lay his bloody implements aside. Esther woke the mother and sent her for more water, cleaning up her husband and the area the best she could before he went to address the family.
"She's alive. The surgery went well, and I have hopes that she will pull through. The next hours are critical. She must lie undisturbed." She heard him say, and continued to clean up the child, making sure there was no sign of the surgery that had taken place.
Wrinkling her nose at the thick smell of blood, she removed the cloth over the only window, and opened the shutters to let the light and air in.
"It's a fine morning," Esther told the sleeping child. "But there will be plenty more for you to see. My husband will make sure of it."
She heard her husband in the doorway and went to help him into a chair she'd brought in from the kitchen.
"Now we wait," he told her.
Kneeling beside him, she leaned against his leg, glancing up from time to time. Her husband's face was drawn and lined with care, but to her he looked like angel.
He caught her admiring glance and gave her a tired smile. "I admit, though I wish to be a man of God, I have spent years studying the flesh. My talents as a doctor are greatly needed, maybe more than my preaching."
"You were wonderful." Taking his hand, Esther pressed a kiss to it.
"Darling wife." He put his hand on her golden hair as she laid her head on his knee, but said no more, too worn out to speak.
Esther shut her eyes for a moment. If all went well, her husband had saved a young girl's life. He would go on to minister to people's bodies and souls alike.
Anything she did couldn't compare. What help was she? How could she make a difference?
The fever broke around noon, and Johnathan finally stood. Esther tucking herself into his side so he could lean on her.
"It's in God's hands now," he told the parents.
"Thank you," the mother said. The father could barely speak, but he nodded, tears in his eyes.
Esther helped her husband all the way to their room, and their bed. By the time he reached it, he was so tired. She slipped her arms around his shoulders and bid him drink some water, then let him sink back into the pillows. Drawing off his boots and socks, she went to help him remove his shirt and trousers, but he was already fast asleep.
Restless, Esther tidied the room, then took a rag and washed and buffed her husband's boots.
He was a hero, she decided. Perhaps her only role was to be his helper. If so, she would do her best for him. Watching him sleep, the lines of his face softened, she wished she could ease him further. Her small actions didn't seem enough to serve him.
Finally, she crept into bed and curled up beside him.
He woke a few hours later, and she opened her eyes when he swung his legs out of the bed.
"Husband?"
"I must check on the child."
Esther rose, her hair tumbling down her back. "I sent a boy to the family, and he returned saying all is well."
"I must see her." He frowned. "Where are my boots?"
"Here." Esther came and knelt before him, putting on his socks and lacing up his now gleaming boots. She felt very small beside him, and honored to help him in any small way.
"Dearest." He drew her up and kissed her. "Stay in bed. I will return soon."
But she could not sleep. She paced in the room, and at last sent for a meal, laying the trays on the small table squeezed next to the only chair.
When Johnathan re-entered, she couldn't keep the question off her face.
"All is well." He closed the door carefully, and leaned against it until she came to help him. "She's sleeping normally."
"No more leaving," she said, guiding him to the chair. Bending over him, she fed him soup, coaxing him until he finally took the spoon from her.
"You're the best nurse I've ever had." He smiled at her. "The prettiest too."
"I only wish I could do more."
An hour later, a knock on the door sent her scurrying to give the intruder a piece of her mind. Johnathan pulled her back and took her place. Biting her lip, she hoped it wasn't another patient to draw her tired husband into the night.
The father of the sick girl stood outside the door, hat in hand.
"Doctor," he greeted Johnathan with a rough voice. "Kirsty is up and asking for her meal."
"Nothing but broth for a day," Johnathan said. "And plenty of water. She should recover enough to eat bread tomorrow, and be running about in no time."
"The missus and I thank you," the man said gruffly, and handed over a burlap bag stuffed full with something.
"You're welcome." Johnathan waited until the man was down the hall before shutting the door and checking the bag.
"What is it?" Esther came closer.
"My payment," Johnathan said with a grin. "Dried venison. Exactly the provision we'll need on our journey."
After a week on the trail West, Esther hated the sight, smell and taste of venison jerky, though her hungry stomach didn't complain. By day they rode for miles in a
long, dusty caravan. By night, Johnathan worked throughout the wagon train, checking blisters, giving medicine for aches and pains, even delivering a baby. The patients often paid in jerky. Esther was grateful when their supplies ran out, and dinner was more often a rabbit or a quail one of the men had trapped.
Esther was one of the few women on the trail, and when the family with the new babe stopped to stay with family in Kansas, she lost all her female friends.
"I don't mind taking women along, as long as they know their place," the trail master told her. "Men to the right, women to the left, I always say. Of course, a woman as pretty as you is welcome anywhere she goes."
Esther thanked him, privately rolling her eyes.
"It's as if he wished women lived like the djinn, waiting in a lamp for a man to summon her," she told her husband later, when they cuddled together under the stars. "On and on about women knowing their place."
Johnathan chuckled, his fingers sifting through her golden hair. "I'll tell him the truth of it: correct a woman as needed, but otherwise treat her like a queen, and then she will grant you every wish."
Rolling onto her husband's long body, Esther did just that.
The next morning, happy, but still wanting to give the driver a piece of her mind, Esther wandered around the wagon and saw the driver. Approaching, she realized his partner was standing facing away from the wagon, with an arc of golden liquid splashing on the ground.
"Mrs. Shepherd," the driver sputtered, and the standing man automatically started to turn, his breeches still undone.
"Oh, forgive me." She whirled, and hurried to "her" side of the wagon.
When she imparted this story to Johnathan later, he covered his face with his hand.
"I suppose that's what he meant when he said 'women on the left of the wagon.' I thought there were some special goings on the men were keeping me from, as a joke. But no, it was only for privacy."
She glanced at her husband, whose shoulders were shaking.
"Are you all right?"
A second hand covered her husband's face.
"Johnathan. Are you laughing at me?"
"I can't...Esther," Johnathan gasped. "Will you never stop getting into scrapes?"
