12 Naughty Days of Christmas - 2016

by Jenny Plumb

  Virginia gasped. “Daddy! No! I like shopping!”

  “You will still be able to go shopping, you’ll just have to start being sensible about it. I said I’m introducing a limit, not cutting it off altogether.”

  “Do you want me to be miserable?” Virginia snapped, all pretence of tears gone.

  “I want you to stay out of jail. I want you to be safe. And this is the best way I know of doing that. Besides, your Nan and Pop are looking forward to this visit – don’t ruin it for them. You can at least pretend to be happy.” Frowning again at Virginia, her father picked up the phone on his desk and dialled his secretary. “Send him in please,” he ordered into the receiver.

  Instantly, there was a knock at the door, just three short, sharp raps, before it swung open.

  Spinning around, Virginia watched, her mouth open in surprise, as Tom strode across the room to shake hands with the tall, dark, handsome stranger who stood just inside the doorway. Standing well over six feet tall, his sculpted muscles were visible even through his suit. Stubble darkened his chiselled jaw, and the edge of a tattoo on the side of his neck peeked above the collar of his shirt. Another tattoo covered the back of one hand, disappearing up inside the sleeve of his shirt and ending at the base of his fingers. His dark eyes were smouldering. Virginia licked her lips as her father made the introductions.

  “Virginia, this is Shane. He will be your chaperone for your trip. Shane, meet Virginia, my daughter.”

  Virginia swallowed hard and stared, wide-eyed, at the impressive specimen of manhood standing before her. “Ch-chaperone?” she stammered, confused. “Why do I need a chaperone?”

  “I want to know you’re safe, my love,” her father told her. “Shane is ex-SAS. He’s trained in close combat and in martial arts – he will be your protection. He will also be your chauffeur and tour guide. And he will be responsible for keeping you out of trouble. He’s well versed in—”

  “Handling spoilt brats.” Shane finished the sentence and stepped forward, his deep voice a rich baritone, sounding so loud in the small room. His accent nearly made her swoon. What was it? It sounded so familiar, yet so foreign.

  “Excuse me? I am not a spoilt brat!” Virginia protested in outrage. But even as she said the words, she knew they weren’t true. Her father had spoiled her. She looked down at her hands that she was wringing in front of her nervously. The tiniest chip on her pinky nail marred the perfect French manicure – a luxury she maintained every week. Hopefully her now-limited budget would extend to regular beauty salon visits. Looking after her appearance was an essential for a socialite of her calibre. She never knew when she would be surrounded by photographers, and every week, she featured in a different magazine. Having her spending reined in was so unfair! It wasn’t like her father couldn’t afford it! Didn’t he know how important it was that she look good?

  “We’ll see.” There was that deep voice again, sounding so sexy, spoken in barely more than a whisper. His accent rung in her ears, and it clicked. Aha! He was from New Zealand!

  She looked across at him furiously, a death glare plastered to her face. The man was so rude! Shane met her eyes and smirked.

  Rummaging around in one of the drawers of his big mahogany desk, her father retrieved a small plastic folder, from which he extracted a slip of shiny cardboard. He held it out to her. “Your ticket,” he told her. “You leave in the morning.”

  Virginia gasped again. “In the morning?” she echoed his words, expressing her horror at the news she was travelling so soon. Picking up the ticket, she scanned it quickly. “And you’re flying me commercially?” Looking at the ground, she perfected her pout, before willing herself to cry again, wanting her father to see just how miserable he was making her. “What about your private jet?”

  Her father shook his head firmly. “No.” He delved into the little plastic folder again, withdrawing another small slip of glossy cardboard, which he handed to Shane.

  Looking at the ticket again, Virginia was too shocked even to cry. Economy. The word jumped off the page at her, mocking her. “You’re not even flying me business class?” she whispered, unable to even find her full voice.

  Her father shook his head. “I think treating you like a normal person instead of a celebrity will be good for you.”

  Virginia felt all the colour drain from her face as she balled the ticket up in her fists, forming the crinkly cardboard into a tight wad. “I will never forgive you for this!” she screamed. “I hate you! I’m going to ruin Christmas for everyone!” Throwing the balled up ticket at her father, she turned and ran from the room.

  Shane watched Tom run his hands through his hair in exasperation, as the fast, furious click of Virginia’s heels on the tile floor echoed down the corridor. He’d been working as personal security in Hollywood for three years now and come across some real divas, but she was right up there with the worst of them.

  “Are you sure you’re up to this?” Tom asked wearily. The famous movie producer’s face looked haggard and worn, as though he hadn’t slept a wink in days, and the pain his daughter’s parting words had caused him was evident in his grey eyes.

  Nothing a good spanking won’t fix. He thought better of voicing his opinion, though, and instead, tried for the encouraging, positive approach. Rubbing his hands together, Shane forced a smile to his face. “We’ll be fine. I like challenges.”

  Spending Christmas with Jessica

  By Paige Mallory

  December 22, 1873

  Victor Bodey was relieved that his sweet little mother was out of town for the holidays. She was visiting with his Aunt Laurie. He would join them in Bigsby for Christmas dinner, but for now he was keeping the peace in Guthrie. Christmas was supposed to be a blessed time of year, honoring Jesus’ birth, but the Ames Gang was more interested in stealing the town blind, and snatching two or three girls to warm their beds while they took refuge from the winter in their hideout. Victor wasn’t going to allow that to happen. When he pinned on his badge two years earlier, he’d promised to keep the town and its people safe. He’d been doing pretty darn well at that so far, and he intended to continue in the same vein, keeping his town safe for all its residents.

  Just before midnight on December 22, 1873, the Ames Gang rode into town and Susie Baker’s screams reached Victor’s ears. He ran to help her, and realized too late that it was a trap. Mortimer Ames was waiting to gun him down and Victor Bodey died that night.

  December 22, 2016

  It was late and Jessica Cosgrove was tired as she reached home. She wanted to lock up her weapons, take off her uniform and unpin her hair. Tomorrow would be another long day because the holidays tended to bring out the crazies. Their police force was short-handed due to all the budget cuts the town council thought it prudent to make, but the taxpayers still expected the same protection as always. The Chief of Police was caught between a rock and a hard place. He was working his police officers long hours, and paying more overtime. It was the holidays, and the mayor wanted Guthrie to be the perfect picture of peace and goodwill to all. Jess needed her paycheck, so she didn’t protest the overtime. It wasn’t like she had a husband, or even a boyfriend to care about her. What she did have was parents, nine siblings – some of whom were married or had significant others – and twenty-seven nieces and nephews to buy fabulous Christmas presents for. The extra money for overtime would help – unless she was too darn tired to go shopping in the next couple of days.

  Jess was ready to climb the steps to her front porch when she heard a loud moan coming from the side yard. Alert as could be, she drew her gun to go and investigate. She had managed to make a couple of enemies since becoming a police officer, and she was going to proceed with caution. She made her way as quietly as possible around the corner of the house, thankful she could see well in the dark. She heard another groan of pain and to her surprise, she found a very large man lying there on the ground. “Sir, are you all right?” she asked, assuming he was drunk.

  “N
o. I was shot. Get Doc Prentiss.”

  “I’ll call for a bus to take you to the hospital.”

  “No! I don’t want to die!”

  “Who are you? Do you have some ID?”

  “I’m the sheriff of Guthrie, Wyoming.”

  “I happen to know the sheriff of Guthrie, and you are not him. Can you stand?” The man had to be drunk.

  “I am the sheriff; I was shot, ma’am. Please get Doc.” The man’s speech was too clear for him to be a drunk.

  “Who shot you? Did you get a look at them?”

  “It was the Ames Gang. They abducted Susie Baker. I tried to save her, but they were waiting for me.”

  Jess knew the history of Guthrie as well as any other citizen who was raised in the town. Everyone knew that the Ames Gang took Susie Baker, and the sheriff was nowhere to be found in the town. Some people thought he was murdered and his body disposed of. Others said the Ames Gang gave him money to leave town.

  Jess’s first thought was that her buddies on the force were playing a practical joke on her. She decided to go along with the joke until she could think of a way to turn it around on the others. “Okay, Sheriff. Let’s get you inside so I can tend your wounds.”

  “Thank you, ma’am. Are you new here? I don’t recognize your voice.”

  “I have lived here my whole and entire life.” She helped him up, surprised at the size of the man! Next to him, she looked fragile and petite, neither of which were true. Jess was wary of taking a stranger inside her home, but she had her gun, and she knew how to use it if this were anything other than a practical joke. “Here we are. Have a seat.”

  She watched him move toward a chair, and then he stopped and looked at her in confusion. “What place is this? Nothing is familiar to me.” His eyes widened as he looked at her. “Why are you dressed in men’s clothing?”

  “I am wearing my uniform. I am a police officer, and I think a few of the boys are playing a gag on me. You can tell me; I won’t arrest you for silliness.”

  “I am not playing a prank on you.” He was looking around him with eyes full of mistrust. “What is this place? Nothing looks right.”

  “What’s wrong? You don’t like the shade of paint I picked?” she asked in good humor. “My sister absolutely hates it. I told her she could repaint it for me as a Christmas present. Why are you wearing a costume? Surely the guys didn’t think I would believe your story that you are a sheriff from 1873?”

  “I am the sheriff of Guthrie. My wounds are gone!” he declared. “Mort Ames shot me at least three times, and yet, there is no pain at all.” He looked her quite funny, then asked, “I think I am beginning to understand; I am dead and in Heaven?”

  “No!”

  “This is Hell?” His dark eyes expressed genuine fright then.

  “No! This is not Heaven and it isn’t Hell. This is simply 2016, and I think you must have fallen and hit your head. I am going to call an ambulance and take you to the Emergency Room to be seen by a doctor.”

  “No. This cannot be. I am from 1873; why would I be here in your world?”

  “I have to give you credit, buddy, you never give up. The gag is over, finished. I am extremely tired. I need a bath and my bed. I have to be on duty again at eight hundred hours. Please go home.”

  “I have nowhere to go. I am in a strange situation. I know I am dead to my time and place, but why was I sent here? Do you need protection?” he asked, perfectly serious.

  “I can take care of myself. I told you, I am a police officer. I carry a gun and I know how to use it.”

  “Do you just shoot men who brawl? Or teens that are rowdy? What of gossiping women? Do you shoot them also?”

  “I don’t shoot anyone! I use my brains to handle most situations. If I must arrest someone, I try to do it respectfully.”

  “You should not be doing a man’s job. What is wrong with your husband that he permits you to be threatened and pushed about?”

  “I have no husband.”

  “Why is that? You are pretty enough to be married.”

  “I haven’t met the right man,” she answered softly, flattered by his comment. “Please, now, I have had enough of your teasing. Tell the guys they got me good. Tell them also that they should tip you well because you have stayed in character the entire time. Good night now.” She walked over to open the door.

  He didn’t budge. “I need answers. How is it you know of the Ames Gang? Are you related to them in some way?”

  “Look— What is your name, mister?”

  “Victor Bodey, ma’am. If you’ve lived in Guthrie your whole life, then you should know that. You must be telling me the truth about this being in the future.”

  “You surely don’t expect me to buy into the lie that you are from 1873?”

  “I do not lie. If you accuse me wrongly again, I’ll take you over my knee for a spanking.” Victor meant the words.

  “You try manhandling me, and I’ll have you behind bars so fast you won’t know how it happened!”

  “It is not manhandling to discipline a sassy redhead.”

  “You get out of my house right now!”

  “I would not know where to go. Things are very different here. Your lamps have long black whips attached to them.”

  “Those are electrical cords,” she answered, then caught herself doing so. “You stop it now! I don’t want to play your game. I am exhausted and I need to sleep.”

  “Explain how I came to be here. This is not heard of where I am from.” His dark eyes were compelling her to believe him, even though she knew he was acting.

  “No more or I am going to arrest you and let you try to explain yourself to the judge.”

  “You cannot arrest me; I am the sheriff!”

  “You are not the sheriff; I know the sheriff, and believe me when I tell you that he would not be amused by this entire prank.”

  “Are you calling me a liar?” he demanded, his dark eyes full of outrage.

  “Yes, if it comes down to it, I am calling you a liar! You are no more the sheriff than I am! I know for a fact that someone is attempting to put one over on me, and it was damn funny at first, but now I am getting pissed off. I want you out of my house, now!”

  To her surprise he moved with the swiftness of a rattlesnake and snagged her wrist in his left hand. His right found the buckle on her gun belt, and off it went. Then he sat down on the ottoman and pulled her over his left thigh and used his right leg to pin her calves so she couldn’t kick. Then his powerful right hand slapped against her left cheek and Jess cried out in shock and pain.

  “Damn you! Let me go before I hurt you!”

  “You should not dare a man, little girl, especially a man who is my size. I warned you not to call me a liar, and now you will pay the price.” He spanked her again and she hollered. “You can yell all you want; it won’t change a thing. You earned a tanned hide.” He spanked her in earnest then.

  Jess couldn’t believe this was happening. It was certainly no joke! Not one of the other officers would dare do this to her, especially with her brothers Tim and Mike on the force. They wouldn’t stand for it! No, this guy seemed serious as could be, and it was certain he meant every stinging spank he dealt her poor backside. The spanking hurt like hell! “Stop, please! We need to talk. Please? I am confused as can be. I know— Ouch! Ouch! I know you are serious! Please stop! I didn’t mean to anger you!”

  “You called me a liar – after I warned you what to expect.” He spanked her sit spots twice more.

  “I’m sorry! I am so sorry!” Jess wasn’t stupid. She needed to apologize or he just might keep right on spanking her. She needed to bring the painful lesson to an end. “Please listen to me; I’ve never had anyone claim to be from another time before! It is hard to believe, but I believe you now! Please stop spanking me and talk to me.”

  The sheriff released her and stood her on her feet and the first thing she did was reach back to try and rub the sting out of her cheeks. “You hurt me!” she wh
ispered, tears leaking from her green eyes.

  “You should never call a man who is larger than you a liar, Miss— I do not know your name,” he said, suddenly realizing he’d spanked a strange female. Her pa might just take a horsewhip to him!

  “I am Jess Cosgrove,” she answered, holding out her hand to shake his. He looked at her strangely. “Women shake hands now? That is so different. Your name, Jess – that is a man’s name.” He gave her another look that said he didn’t approve.

  “My name is actually Jessica, but my family all call me Jess. Almost all of us have nicknames.” She cocked her head to one side. “I need to hear your story, beginning to end. Something strange is happening here, and I am at a loss as to how to deal with it. Please talk to me, Sheriff.”

  “Sit down,” he invited.

  “I cannot sit down right now,” she told him, trying to hide the anger and humiliation she was feeling. “My bottom is bruised and burning.”

  “That is why a spanking works. You will feel it for several days and you will remember the lesson, and you will watch your words. You should not be cursing, either.”

  “I am frustrated, but that isn’t a good excuse for bad language. I apologize.”

  “Would your ma permit that?”

  “She doesn’t like it, but she picks her battles. Please tell me what happened to you from the beginning.” She listened as the sheriff told her his story, and she found herself believing him. The details he shared were not available in any of the books she’d studied. Either he was a terrific actor, or she was truly meeting a man from 1873. “Do you think God made a mistake?” she asked.

  “God doesn’t make mistakes, unless you know something I don’t?”

  “I was taught that God knows everything. He is the beginning and the end, and everything in between. He put you here for some reason.”