by Lee Savino
The spanking was quite mild compared to her previous ones, and she focused on keeping her breathing steady and body still. Miles’ hand fell in a steady rhythm, smacking every inch of her bum. Every once in a while, he paused and squeezed her sore flesh gently.
When he lifted her up, she stood with face flushed from hanging upside down. She felt quiet and content as her husband undid her skirts and pulled them off, then checked her blistered bottom.
“Your punishment is almost over. You did well, Carrie.” She warmed inside at the same time her heart sank that her discipline would continue. But she didn’t fuss about it, just waited for him to tell her to go get the paddle. She also resisted the urge to rub her behind.
After a moment, Miles nodded as if she’d passed some sort of test, and she realized he’d given her a chance to complain.
“The final part of your maintenance will be to stand in the corner, nose touching the wall. I want you to think about the words you said, and how Lyle must feel.”
She gave a little sob, realizing this part of her punishment might well be the worse. Still, she must obey.
Pulling up her drawers, she reached for her skirts, but Miles stopped her. “You’ll stand in the corner with your drawers down and hands on your head. Your bottom on display will remind you of your correction and the reason for it.”
She hesitated, thinking of her red cheeks bare and visible from any point in the cabin, including the open door.
“Go now.”
Standing with her nose touching the cabin wall had to be the most boring thing she’d ever done. Worse, Miles didn’t seem inclined to end her punishment anytime soon. Minutes passed like hours. At first a fly buzzing around the cabin distracted her, but a sharp swat from Miles and the sound stopped. She jumped when her husband smacked the fly dead, and again when he came to the corner to loom over her.
“Are you keeping your thoughts to what you’ve done?”
“No, sir.”
His fingers brushed her bottom, feather light. Not enough to hurt, but she whimpered anyway. “Do you need another reminder to obey?”
“No, sir,” she said and resolved to think on her cruel words and the hurt she caused.
“There’s something I haven’t shared with you,” Miles said. “When Lyle and I were business partners, we went into Colorado Springs for supplies. There was a lady there he wished to pursue, and he brought her back with us. Six months later, she sickened, and died.”
Carrie gasped.
“It broke his heart, and some of his spirit. A year later, we quarreled and parted ways.” Miles sighed, and Carrie wanted to turn her face away from the wall, but didn’t dare. “I can’t help but feel that her death affected him more than I knew, and was the cause of his pride, and his ruin. If I had been a better friend, I might have seen it. He deserved my compassion.”
She heard the pain in her husband’s voice and felt her eyes prick with more tears. She wanted to comfort him, but knew he wished her to stay facing as she was. To give him privacy, as well as complete her punishment. Instead of breaking pose, she reached back and found his big hand, and squeezed it.
He squeezed it back.
“Think on it awhile, Carrie,” Miles said in a sad, rough voice.
She did as he bid, and one by one the images replayed: Her losing her temper and shouting, then Lyle’s face wincing, then hiding the hurt.
The minutes passed quickly, and in no time Miles called, “Come away from the wall, Carrie. You’re forgiven, and your punishment is over.”
Wiping her eyes, she went to the little hook on the wall by the door. Before she thought too hard, she took up the paddle and approached Miles. “Please, sir. Give me a few with the paddle. I deserve it for how mean I’ve been.”
Miles studied her face a moment, then took the paddle from her.
“Go lean across the table.”
She obeyed, trembling. What was she thinking?
“Three strikes with the paddle. Count them out.”
And the wooden board fell across her pink skin with a resounding crack.
She cried out and lurched forward onto the table, tears flooding her vision. The sting filled her mind and she struggled to keep her knees straight. Once her head cleared, she realized what Miles was waiting for.
“One, sir,” she squeaked.
He touched her back lightly to remind her to move into position. She settled her feet and took a deep breath, wondering why she had ever spoken so harshly to Lyle, and why she would then beg for more correction. Then she couldn’t think of anything else, because the paddle had crashed down on her bare skin and her world exploded with pain.
“Oh, two.” She panted. “Sir.” Chest heaving, she gripped the edge of the table and pressed her cheek to the rough surface. Her husband wasn’t holding anything back in these three swats.
“One more,” Miles said, and tapped her bottom, shifting her until she moved into the position he liked. Her face and torso hugged the table, with her bottom upturned and ready for chastisement.
The paddle came whooshing down, but instead of striking with full force, merely tapped her bottom. She waited, but no more fell.
“Three,” Miles counted it for her. “And repeat after me: I will think before I speak, and if my thoughts are mean, I’ll hold my tongue.”
She said the words, then sagged against the table with relief, before Miles pulled her up into his arms.
“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” she repeated over and over, crying. The thought of Lyle’s hurt and dead wife ballooned in her mind.
“I know you are, dear Carrie. It’s over. You’re forgiven.” He kissed her over and over, then swung her up and carried her to the bed. They lay entwined, her cheek on his chest, rising and falling with his breath.
“I’m a horrible, horrible woman,” she whispered.
“What’s that now?”
She tipped her head up to look at her husband. “I must apologize to him.”
“We’ll go over tomorrow,” Miles promised.
“I never thought I could say those things to anyone, much less shout them in the street. Am I an evil woman?”
“No, love, not at all. You spoke out of anger, that’s all.”
The next day they rode to Wilder’s homestead. Carrie rode very gingerly, hanging on to Miles. Wilder’s land lay just to the north of the Donovan’s property, through a thick pine woods. Miles guided Monty down a path beside the stream, and soon they broke out of the woods into a small clearing.
But as they approached Lyle’s home, Carrie clutched Miles tighter. The cabin was about the same size as theirs, but seemed a dark, rude hut compared. No light came through the windows, and the door sagged open.
Miles dismounted and went forward, Carrie kept herself from calling out for him to be careful. One breath of wind and the whole place might come tumbling down. After peering into the dark space, Miles came back, shaking his head.
“He’s not here. May not have lived here for some time.” Miles put a hand on Monty as if he needed something to lean on. “I didn’t know it was this bad,” he muttered.
“Has he given up the land?”
“If he had, I’d have heard talk of it. Of course, if he deserts it like this, it’s fair game for someone else to come and claim it.”
He remounted, and Carrie hung on as he spurred their mount home. She risked one glance back at the lonely, forbidding place and shivered. The empty cabin cast Lyle in a new light, and she felt even worse about confronting the man. The more she thought of his proud actions through the lens of tragedy, the more he seemed a pathetic creature, a child starved of love, acting out to get attention. Her angry words seemed even more cruel.
Dinner was a quiet affair.
“What will you do?” she finally asked.
Miles set down his spoon. He looked like he’d aged ten years. “I need to find him. Should’ve reached out a long time ago. This Sunday I’ll give word to Martin to look out for him.”
&nbs
p; “You wish to reconcile?” Her eyes widened.
“I do. Should’ve done it a long time ago, but I was stubborn. Hard and judgmental.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because it’s the truth. I never condoned of his marriage, and told him of it. When he took Mary to wife, I made it clear I did not approve of her.”
“Why not?” Carrie felt a pang, a premonition, but could not stop herself from asking.
“She was a whore,” Miles said. The planes of his face seemed to harden. “A painted lady who worked in the saloons of Colorado Springs.” He continued, not noticing Carrie had gone very quiet. “I thought he should find a woman who was chaste and good. Like you.” He took Carrie’s hand and she started at his touch. “I thought only to protect my friend. He didn’t see it that way.”
As soon as she could, Carrie slipped her hand from her husband’s grip and started to clear her place, careful to keep her face turned away.
“We quarreled, and parted ways. Then she sickened, and died. And I didn’t help him.”
Carrie risked a glance back. Miles had his fist clenched on the table and head tilted like he was looking through time.
“I did wrong,” Miles said. “And I must do right by him now.”
She waited until he’d left the cabin before sinking down on the hearth. There was no hope now. She could never be with Miles. For if he refused to accept his friend’s wife, how would he react when he found out her secret?
The next morning, she rose bleary eyed and shaky. All night she’d dreamed of the dark cabin, and an evil man lurking there.
Miles noticed it at breakfast. “You all right, wife?”
“Yes, husband.” She gave a weak smile. “Just didn’t sleep well.”
“Your dreams are getting worse.”
“Did I bother you?”
“You cry out sometimes, and thrash about.” He caught her hand as she passed, worry crossing his face. “What’s wrong, Carrie?”
She chewed her lip, wondering if she could spill her secret. Not yet, she decided, looking at his concerned expression. But soon. She couldn’t bear it much longer. “Just the nightmares. I dreamt of Mr. Wilder’s cabin.”
“Did it frighten you that much?” He set down his fork.
Shivering, she moved closer, but he made no move to touch her. “It just seemed so desolate. The thought of Lyle living there alone, after nursing his wife and watching her die...”
“Sweet Carrie. It’s all right. Mary was always sickly, even before she came to be Mrs. Wilder. You’ll not share her same fate.”
“I know that,” she said softly.
The rest of the week passed slowly, with Carrie’s dreams growing worse. All day she jumped at shadows and thought of her sins catching up to her.
The next Sunday, before church, they stopped at the store and Miles gave his message to Mr. Martin.
Miles left the store, frowning. “Martin hasn’t seen him since the last mail stop. He thinks Wilder is spending more time in Florence, or Colorado Springs.”
“Does he have family in these parts?”
“A vagabond brother named Jesse. His late wife Mary had some family, I believe, in Colorado Springs.”
“Perhaps he’s staying with them.”
“Perhaps.” Miles kept frowning and when she went to take his hand, he shook her off.
They arrived late to church, and Carrie gratefully slipped in under the cover of the hymn. Esther tried to catch her eye, but Carrie shrank back behind Miles and kept her eyes down. She could never befriend anyone, ever again. She was a fool to think she could escape her past.
At one point the Reverend quoted the bible. “Your sins will find you out.”
Carrie went white and hunkered down in her seat.
Miles leaned down. “Something the matter?”
“Nothing,” she said too quickly. She pretended to play with the fringe on her shawl, hoping he wouldn’t see her discomfort.
His hand found hers and squeezed it, but as soon as she could, she pulled her hand away.
She kept her eyes down on the ground for the rest of the sermon. The thought of Miles believing she was a good wife made her sick to her stomach. Of course her sin would catch up with her. She’d known it all along. The people at home were right; she was an unclean woman, and should be punished for the rest of her life.
After the Reverend said the final prayer, Miles stood to greet the rest of the townspeople, and catch up on the news, while Carrie remained sitting quietly.
A rustle of skirts heralded her friend.
“My dear,” Esther said, seating herself close. “Are you feeling well?”
“Just a poor stomach, that’s all.”
“I have a remedy for that, if you wish.”
Eyes still on the floor, Carrie nodded.
Esther hurried away, and after a minute, Carrie heard them speaking about her.
“If she’s feeling poorly, she’s welcome to lie down here,” Esther said.
“No.” Miles put his hand on Carrie’s shoulder. “I thank you, Mrs. Shepherd, but we’ll be returning home.”
On the way home, he put his hand on her knee and nearly stopped the wagon.
“Carrie, what’s wrong?”
“I’m just ill,” she mumbled when she felt his handkerchief on her face.
“You’re crying.”
“I’m just thinking on the sermon.”
He let the matter lie for a few miles, then frowned down at her. “Is there something you want to tell me?”
She shook her head, and bit her lip.
Back at the cabin, she sat down listlessly at her sewing. Finally, Miles took her hand and led her to the chair.
“No,” she said, pulling away once she realized he was starting her Sunday maintenance. “I don’t want to do this.”
“Carrie,” he admonished, holding out his hand. “Let us talk and then get it over with. You’ll feel better.”
“No, Miles.” She let the tears fall then. “You don’t understand. The spanking won’t help. Nothing will take my sin away. Nothing.”
“Will you tell me what’s wrong?”
“I cannot.” She shook her head, realizing she could never tell him the truth. The betrayal would be too great.
But she had to make him understand.
“When I first met you, I swore I would not allow myself to sin again. I tried so hard to be better. I’m sorry, Miles. You deserve someone good.”
“Carrie, what do you mean by this? I don’t want another. I love you.”
“You shouldn’t love me,” she whispered. “I cannot be a wife to you.”
His face grew hard, like a shield thrown up between them. “I don’t understand.” He started across the room towards her. “Carrie, if you would just tell me—”
“No, stay away from me,” she cried.
Miles stopped, face stricken.
Even though it hurt like a dagger in her heart, she had to make him understand. “I cannot fall in love with you. You must believe me.”
Her words fell like a blow; she watched them hit him and knock him back.
“Are you sure?” he said finally.
“I am sure. I’m sorry it took me so long to know. But I can never love you.” It will bring us both to ruin, like Lyle and his lady love.
Slowly, Miles’ head sank onto his chest. Reaching out, he took up his hat and settled it onto his head.
Carrie watched him walk to the door. She could tell he was hurting, but she couldn’t stop him. She had to let him go.
He stopped in the door, the light silhouetting the harsh planes of his face.
“I know I am a hard man, but I had hoped you could one day find it in your heart to love me.”
He waited for a moment, but she didn’t know what to say. With a heavy step, he went out the door.
She waited a few minutes, feeling numb. Once she was sure he was gone, she grabbed a shawl and a blanket, and made a bundle with some food. Her marriage ha
d failed, and she had no recourse but to run.
The horses nickered as she passed their corral. Belle and her foal watched her go. Monty trotted along the fence, following her as far as he could.
“It’s better this way,” she told them, and ran to the forest, Monty’s frantic whinnies echoing in her ears.
The woods were dark and thick as she pushed her way through the pines. She quickly lost her way through the pines and stumbled blindly through the branches that tore at her.
It began to rain. Most of the drops were caught by the thick canopy overhead, but she could hear the torrent drumming on the leaves. It grew colder, and she knew she’d need to find shelter for the night, but the trees pressed in from all sides until she could barely see.
The rain started in earnest, and she was almost blind, running and sobbing. She never should’ve left Miles. She should’ve told him the truth and let him do what he would with her. He would cast her out, but maybe he’d send her with fare to go home. She could’ve taken it and left, not for home, because there was no place for her there anymore. But perhaps she could’ve gone back to town, and perhaps take a stagecoach to a mining camp and work there, or on to California.
The storm overhead blew up so quickly. She could hear the trees tossing above her head. Their trunks creaked restlessly, and she wondered if she should lie down and hope they would fall and bury her.
But did she really want to die? Or just escape?
Hope came in the form of a clearing. She stumbled out of the woods, peering through the rain to see the neglected homestead. Lyle’s cabin sat eerie and alone, dark wood stained with the water.
Then lightning cracked overhead and she shrieked, dropping and covering her head out of instinct. She could feel the storm’s energy surging over the ground, seeking a victim.
“Carrie,” someone called. On the opposite side of the clearing, Miles pushed his ride out of the trees, just in time for thunder to boom out just over their heads. The horse reared a little in surprise, and Carrie could hear both man and beast crying out. She stood, torn in the middle of the field, wanting to run to shelter, but also go back to help with the frightened horse.
