by Lee Savino
Her husband led her to the birthing stall where the mare paced.
“She’ll foal soon.” He glanced at the lightening sky. “Sometime around dawn.”
“You shouldn’t leave her then.”
Sun rays broke in the east and hit the mountains, setting the rocks aflame.
Carrie raced around the homestead gathering the eggs and getting more water for Miles, stopping only to pet Monty on the nose. “She’s doing fine.” She reassured the nervous father.
The birth seemed quick from start to finish. After a few false starts, the foal was on its feet, nursing at his mother’s teet.
“Male, and healthy,” Miles reported. He went to the pail to wash up.
“He looks like Monty.” Carrie admired the dark mane and mahogany coloring. “Just with a splash of his mother’s paint on his nose.”
Moving tiredly, Miles came out of the pen, closing the gate behind him before leaning on it for support. Carrie came around to help him. Tucking herself under her husband’s arm, she helped him walk up the hill.
“Did you learn something, Carrie?” Miles chuckled as she helped him into bed. Before she could answer, his eyes closed with sleep.
Tiptoeing about the cabin, Carrie settled into her chores. From her sewing corner, she watched her strong husband sleep, stern features lax and hair fanned across the pillow. He carried so much responsibility on his broad shoulders. She wondered if she ever would be a good wife to him.
While sweeping the porch, she caught herself yawning. Lately, her nightmares had robbed sleep from them both. She thought she might finish her work, then climb into bed and join Miles.
She’d just finished the milking when a familiar black stallion trotted out of the forest and up the hill. Recognizing the tall figure in black riding proudly towards her home, Carrie hurried to the cabin, reaching the porch just as Lyle Wilder stopped in front of it.
“Mrs. Donovan.” He touched his hat mockingly.
“Mr. Wilder.” She brushed her hair back, wishing she had taken time to put on a bonnet. In all the excitement, she had barely washed her face.
Mr. Wilder looked very fine, as always. Carrie had asked Esther about his perfectly pressed clothes, and the Reverend’s wife had reported that the mailman often stayed in hotels that offered a laundry service.
Looking at him now, she believed the rumor; his pants had a crease no wife could provide. Surrounded by the fine cloth, though, Lyle’s eyes looked haunted.
“This came for you,” Lyle said and handed down a package, not bothering to dismount. Hesitating, she finally went to the edge of the porch and took it.
“Thank you, Mr. Wilder,” she said in a tone she hoped told him he’d worn out his welcome.
Mr. Wilder’s gaze roved around the homestead, taking in the new addition beside Belle, and the cow stationed in the lean-to.
“New foal?”
She crossed her arms in front of her chest and nodded. She hoped Miles would not wake and see him; at the same time she wished her husband would come and deal with their nosy neighbor.
“So you’ve settled in with the old boot, I see. Does he have you mucking out the stable stalls of his precious horses yet?” He sounded bored and disparaging at the same time.
Carrie flushed and lost her hold on her tongue. “I’d rather spend a day with Miles’ horses than an hour with you.”
Lyle’s face twisted and he forced a laugh. “I guess you suit him then. You’re a real frontier woman now—you certainly look like one. Your skin is so brown, I’d think you were an Indian woman, except none of them have so many freckles.”
“You scoundrel,” she cried out, when a heavy hand closed on her shoulder.
“Lyle,” Miles drawled. “So good of you to bring the delivery to us. We missed you at our wedding.”
“Donovan.” Lyle jerked his horse’s reins and the big stallion danced backwards unhappily. “Marriage seems to be treating you well.”
“Aye.” Miles settled himself beside her, and she felt grateful for his warm strength. “What can we do for you, Wilder?”
“Just being neighborly. Mrs. Donovan and I grew quite close before she pledged her troth; I found I missed our little chats.”
“It’s not true,” Carrie cried out. Her husband’s hand tightened on her. “Miles, it’s not—he’s lying.”
“Hush, Carrie. Go inside now.”
Cheeks scarlet with anger, she went out of sight and listened by the door.
“I’d thank you to stay away from my wife.”
“Don’t worry, Donovan. I have no designs to corrupt her. I’m attracted to whores, remember?”
Carrie’s stomach clenched so hard, she almost bent double. Stumbling towards her corner, she lowered herself into her chair.
Lyle knew of her wickedness! Her past sins. Who told him? How had he found out?
By the time she resumed listening, she’d missed most of what had been said.
“That was a great tragedy, one we all grieved,” Miles was saying.
Lyle snorted. “Not you. The great Miles Donovan, too pure and noble to forgive anything but the most shining motives. But I welcome your scorn. Tells me what sort of man you are.”
“I’m a man of principles. But I am your friend.”
“Never, Donovan. You were never truly my friend.”
Leaning over her trunk, pretending to study her sewing, and ignoring the shooting pains inside her, she barely heard Lyle gallop off.
Miles waited a long moment before entering the house.
“That man is seeking trouble.” Miles’ hand was rubbing the back of his neck, and he didn’t notice her distress. “If you see him again, do not have words with him.”
“I have no wish to speak to him.” She bent her head over her stitching, forcing her tears back. “He is a scoundrel.”
“All the same, you will not speak ill of him. I’ll not tell you again.”
She fell silent, tears blurring her vision as her needle stabbed one of his shirts.
“Carrie? Do you understand me?”
“Yes, sir.”
But it was too late: an angry pall hung over the day. Carrie found herself thinking over the encounter over and over, and her movements became sloppy with agitation. She broke a pot, and burned the biscuits, and accidentally kicked over a pail of new milk.
More than once Miles called her name at dinner time to get her attention.
“You’ve been restless, Carrie girl.”
“Just tired.” As soon as she could, she went to bed, facing the wall. She lay staring at the logs, holding in her tears. All the years, all the miles between her and her past, and she still could not escape.
The bed creaked as Miles lay his weight down.
“Carrie.” He spoke in his deep voice. She felt his hand rest on her hip, but she didn’t move.
She would never be a good wife to Miles. The sooner he knew, the sooner he could cast her out and find a woman who suited him.
She heard her husband sigh, then settle in. After a time, he started to snore.
Only then she let tears trickle down her face.
The next day, they rode to church. Carrie sat quietly for the whole trip, haunted by another bad dream. This time the faceless man got inside the cabin and knew where she was hiding under the bed.
“A quick stop at the store.” Miles let the team pull up in front of Mr. Martin’s. “Will you wait here?”
Silently, she took the reins. Miles jumped down and gave her knee a little squeeze before striding off.
There was a sound of a horse prancing up behind her, and then Lyle Wilder greeting her.
“Well, good morning, Mrs. Donovan.”
Remembering Miles’ instruction, she ignored the black clad man, wishing he didn’t look so fine in his black suit and vest. He was nothing but a dandy.
“Silent treatment, eh?” The black stallion danced around the wagon. “That’s all right. Most women talk enough as it is. You’ll be happy to know I’ve
been writing many letters to find another lass like yourself to join me on my homestead.”
The thought of a poor lady traveling to be wife to such a scallywag cut her to the quick, and she couldn’t stop herself from snapping, “As if any woman would ever love you.”
“Ho, how little you know.” Lyle sounded flippant, but his blue eyes blazed.
“I know exactly what type of man you are,” she cried. “You’re horrid. You think you look fine but there’s nothing good about you, just pride and cruelty. You’re rotten inside.”
“Carrie.” Miles voice rang out over the street and she bit off her angry words.
Lyle kicked his horse down the street; Carrie stared after him, bitter tears in her eyes as she realized how the man had antagonized her and then left her to deal with the consequences.
“We’ll talk of this later,” Miles promised, taking back the reins.
She held her tongue as long as she could, and lasted until Miles parked the team in a deserted alley beside the Shepherd’s house. “He wouldn’t leave me alone.”
“I told you not to speak to him, Carrie. Instead, I find you shouting at him in the middle of the street.”
“It’s not fair,” she burst out. “If you had been there, he never would’ve approached. Don’t you see? He can’t fight with you so he picks on me.”
“And you were to ignore him. I was out of the shop in a minute.” He saw her stricken face and his voice softened. “I did not leave you deliberately, Carrie.”
His comfort came too late; her tears streamed down her cheeks. “I hate that man. I hate him.”
At her angry words, Miles left off rubbing the back of his neck and pulled her into his arms. She resisted for a moment, then pressed her face into his chest.
At last she sat up and scrubbed her hand across her face. “I’m sorry. I know I disobeyed you.”
“You’re forgiven. You’ll still receive correction for your hasty words.”
She nodded her acceptance, and let him help her out of the wagon.
At church, she put on a brave face, but Esther knew something was wrong.
“Dearest,” the blonde said, winding her arm in Carrie’s and leading her down the hall away from the others. “What’s troubling you? All through the sermon I could tell you were out of sorts.”
“I disobeyed Miles today, and am to receive correction at home.”
Esther’s eyebrows went up. “Have you received it before?”
“Yes,” Carrie sighed. “Many times. Not unfairly though,” she hastened to say.
Her friend relaxed. “Yes, I’m sure Mr. Donovan is always fair,” Esther murmured.
“Still, it is difficult waiting many hours for punishment.”
Now Esther smiled. “It’s not so bad. And once it’s over, think of how good you’ll feel. That’s what gets me through my sessions.”
“Does Reverend Shepherd—?” Carrie couldn’t finish the sentence.
Esther nodded. “Quite often. It used to be more, then we settled on regular Sunday spankings.”
“Every Sunday?”
“Yes, dear friend. He says it settles me.” Esther grimaced a little. “Of course, I protest at the beginning, but once it’s done, the aftermath is quite nice.” And the Reverend’s wife’s expression turned almost dreamy.
Once the Donovans were off for home, Carrie found herself thinking on her friend’s words. Esther received regular spankings, but she didn’t seem traumatized. Quite the opposite; she’d hinted at enjoying the results of her discipline. If the Reverend’s wife felt this way, perhaps Carrie wasn’t so wicked when the sessions with Miles turned into lovemaking.
“You’re awfully quite, wife,” Miles said.
Carrie didn’t reply, and he glanced down at her.
“I saw you talking with Esther. Did she mention how she and her husband spend Sunday afternoons?”
“Yes,” Carrie squeaked.
Miles almost grinned. “Well, then, I think it’s time we introduce the same practice. Of course, today, you’ll be receiving double punishment, once for maintenance, and again for how you spoke to Wilder.”
Carrie found herself wishing he would pull the wagon off the side of the road and cut a switch, just so her discipline would be over.
Back at the homestead, she rushed around putting together a quick dinner. As soon as Miles came back to the cabin, she half expected him to take her in hand and correct her. When he waved her to the table, she ate slowly, then dragged her feet cleaning up. Miles sat in his chair relaxing until she’d wiped up the last crumb from the table and then stood before him expectantly.
“Please, Miles,” she begged. “When are you giving me my punishment?”
His face relaxed into an almost smile. “Well now, I was going to wait awhile, but since you ask so prettily, I’ll begin. Go get the soap.”
Feeling of dread mixing with relief in her, she returned with the large cake of lye soap and put it in his outstretched hand.
He got to his feet. “You know why you’re being punished?”
“I spoke rude words to Mr. Wilder.”
“Yes, after I forbade you to speak to him. You’ll still receive a spanking for your regular maintenance. But this will remind you not to speak ill words of anyone again.” He held up the bar of soap. “Open your mouth.”
With a whimper, she obeyed, and shut her eyes. The item entered her mouth and the vile taste hit her tongue. She moaned her disgust as the slick substance covered the inside of her mouth. But that wasn’t the worst of it.
“Bite down,” Miles ordered.
With another groan, she obeyed, her tongue lying against the underside of the bar despite her best efforts.
“Open,” he said, and peered into her mouth to see little bubbles starting to form. “You’ll think before you speak next time, I reckon. Otherwise it’ll be much worse for you next time.”
Standing there with fists clenched and tears pouring out of her eyes, she shuddered at the thought of worse punishment. The sharp bite of soap seemed to penetrate every inch of her mouth.
“A few more minutes,” Miles told her. “Careful not to swallow.”
She whimpered and closed her eyes again. The minutes seemed like hours and she waited in agony until he told her to rinse her mouth out. She stood on the porch taking dipperfuls from the pail and spitting them out.
“All right now,” Miles said from the door, and she trudged back inside. He’d set a chair in the middle of the room and she knew the second part of her discipline would begin soon.
But first her husband sat down and took her into his lap. She put her arms around him and relaxed, even though he’d caused her so much discomfort, her heart still told her this man would take care of her.
“I don’t want to punish you so harshly, Carrie. But you must understand: your words can hurt.”
“I know.”
He tucked one of her unruly curls behind her ear. “Tell me what you meant when you said those things to Mr. Wilder.”
She hesitated.
“Tell me true, Carrie. Your honesty won’t get you more punishment but lying will.”
“I spoke rashly. I’m very sorry.”
“I know you are, but tell me why you said you hated him.”
“I wanted to hurt him. I wanted him to know how vile he is.”
“Why?”
“Because I hate men like him,” she burst out. “Ones who think they can come and treat a woman anyway they like. They act courtly and work their wiles, then leave a woman most cruelly.”
Miles stayed silent through her outburst, but throughout her protest, his hand rubbed her back, until the last of her outburst died away. He leaned back in the chair, letting her rest against him, rocking her slightly.
“How long have you felt this way about Wilder?”
“Ever since I first met him, the day the coach brought me here. He tried to flirt with me even after he found out I was to become your wife. Then he teased me about it and tried to
turn my head away from you.”
She looked up at her husband with tear-filled eyes. “So you see, I had to speak against him. I just had to.”
“Carrie, you never should use your tongue to cut someone down. Lyle has his pride, but what use is it to rub his nose in it? He’ll only resent you.”
“He says such awful things about you.”
Miles dipped his head so she could look straight into his tawny eyes. “Do you believe him?”
“No,” Carrie said, then remembered his admonishment to tell the truth. “At least, not after I came to know you. Mr. Wilder said you were very stern, and that you would break my spirit.”
“He told you that before we met?” Miles didn’t look happy about it.
She nodded, then put her hand on his cheek, feeling the sharp stubble on his jaw. “I thought that was true, at first. But now I know the truth.” She kissed him softly. By the time she pulled back, her kisses had washed his anger away.
“Sweet Carrie.” He tugged one of her curls. “It seems to me you’ve taken on yourself to be the champion in my feud. But I cannot let you take it on anymore. You won’t engage him in anyway, or even wish him ill.”
“How can I not? You’re asking me to control my thoughts!”
“Let them go, Carrie. Like water flowing downriver. You can’t live your life upset with someone.” He studied her frustrated expression. “If it helps, I’ll discipline you whenever you need a reminder.”
She frowned at him. “Discipline me for my thoughts? How will you do that?”
“I can’t, sweet girl, unless you admit to them. But I can give you daily maintenance until you learn to quiet your mind.”
Daily spankings? Huddling in his lap, Carrie didn’t know what to say, so she stayed silent.
Chuckling, Miles kissed her head. “If you feel like you need correction in this matter, let me know. I’ll leave you to decide. But if I ever catch you speaking ill about Lyle to his face or to any other, it’ll be another mouth soaping as well as twenty with the paddle.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Up now. Time for your Sunday spanking.”
She stood and let him guide her face down over his lap. Again she felt his strong thighs underneath her, and relaxed, feeling safe and completely at peace, even as he flipped up her skirts and pulled down her drawers. His large hands worked over her skin, warming her buttocks until she was in a daze.
