* * *
Chapter 3
The next morning, Will was surprised to be greeted by Leo Journey, sipping a cup of coffee where he stood on the front porch at Journey's End. Taking off his sunglasses, he offered his hand.
"Mr. Journey, it's good to see you again. It's been a while."
The older man shook Will's hand. "Been busy, son."
"So Queenie has been telling me."
"Coffee?"
This was exactly the opportunity Will had been waiting for. "Yes, sir. I'd like that."
Journey gestured with his cup toward the door, and Will preceded him into the cool interior. He'd been there before, on the first visit when he'd come to discuss the easement. That had been a polite but brief exchange and he hadn't seen Leo since.
Following along, Will was invited into Journey's home office, a spacious room with forest green walls and dark wainscoting. There was a big pine desk and some cowhide-covered chairs with metal stud details. The desk was littered with papers and several open books, and on the return was a laptop computer showing a geometric screensaver.
At Leo's gesture, Will sat in a chair in front of the desk, and, to his surprise, Journey took the facing chair rather than the one behind the desk.
"Need to thank you, boy, for gettin' my daughter out of jail."
"Thanks aren't necessary, sir."
An older Mexican woman came in with a coffee pot. "More coffee, Leo? Oh! I see you've got company."
"Consuela," Journey said, nodding his mostly gray head toward Will. "This is our new neighbor, Will Mazie. Will, Consuela is our domestic engineer."
She laughed. "Housekeeper, he means. And cook."
"Your wife, sir?"
Consuela answer for him with a dismissive gesture. "No way! This old coot is too pig-headed and grumpy for me!"
Journey's laugh was genuine. It appeared that he was used to being teased by his housekeeper. "And that old woman is too bossy for me. We have a deal. She tells the family what to do and I tell 'em to listen."
She grinned, turning to look at Will. "Coffee, Mr. Mazie?"
"Will, ma'am. And yes, thanks."
They sat quietly for a few moments, until Consuela had served them both some steaming, fragrant java.
"Queenie," Journey said, "is a firecracker. Pretty to look at, but hard on the ears."
Will laughed. "Yes, sir. She is."
"It's my fault for not whoopin' her enough. But once her mama died, I didn't have the heart for it. Not that I didn't care, but more because Q reminded me of Cassie. Cassie could cuss a blue streak when her temper was up."
"That describes Queenie, in my experience. She has an unusual name. How did she get it?"
"Her late mama was a professional gambler." He looked wistful. "Placed high in the World Poker Tour twice. She named all the babies, so we got Ace, Deuce, Queenie, Trey and Jackie."
"Poker!"
"She was a statistics major at Cornell. Really helped her know the odds. But she was always a Texas girl at heart. Couldn't bear to be far away for long."
"You're a lucky man, Leo."
Leo nodded. "Anyhow, I try to be there for all my kids, but when I can't, it's reassurin' to know that there are good people out there who don't shirk at helpin' out a time or two."
Will wondered if Journey knew about the spankings. The old guy was cagey, and Will was well aware that whatever he was saying was intended for strategic purposes. Precisely what those purposes were would have to be determined along the way. "The bail was no issue, sir."
"Call me Leo, will ya, son? Makes me feel like an old fart to be called sir."
"Okay…Leo."
The man sipped from his coffee for a few moments, giving Will a frank stare. "I know Q has an interest in you. I can tell when she mentions you…or more accurately, when she completely avoids mentionin' you."
Laughing, Will nodded. "That sounds like her."
"She's a complicated woman, Will. She can be out-of-control, no matter that it's self-destructive. Sometimes, a gal like Queenie needs to be reminded to mind her manners."
Will treated Leo's comments with gravity. Journey did know about the spankings, apparently, and this was his oblique way of letting Will know.
"Don't take no guff from her, son, and I think you'll find somethin' special beneath all the ear-blisterin' crapola."
"I hear you."
Another frank look. "Do you now?"
Will nodded. He'd been given permission to spank.
"But, let me make somethin' clear. If I ever run into a fella who hurts my little girl, who treats her like shit and tries to break her spirit, he'll have a fateful visit with my double-barrel."
It was an intense moment, and Will gave it serious consideration. The old man was giving him permission to pursue his daughter, and certainly Will had been inclined to do so, but by agreeing to the man's terms, Will was making a kind of commitment to deal with Queenie's tantrums without crossing Leo's line.
He could do that. Part of him wanted to do that. And part of him wondered what he was getting himself into. She was a strong-willed woman and might strain his patience. The reward of having her in his life, though, might very well outweigh the scrapes and bruises to his calm.
"I understand, Leo. I wouldn't want to see Queenie harmed either. She's a bit of a brat, but she doesn't deserve abuse."
"Glad we got that clear." He finished his coffee and put the cup down. "Now let's talk about that easement."
"I'd like that."
* * *
Queenie watched Will and her father head toward the home office from the hallway a few doors down. Neither of them noticed her, or, if they did, they didn't acknowledge it.
She wondered what they could be getting up to in there, but it seemed likely it was the easement issue, and that made her breathe a sigh of relief as she headed toward the kitchen. It would be good to have that settled.
Not so good that it would mean the end of Will's daily morning visits. She was honest enough with herself to admit that she enjoyed some aspects of his company, and she was beholden to him for getting her out of jail. When he'd spanked her in the bungalow, she'd been enraged, but feeling his arms around her afterward took a lot of the emotional sting out of the experience. And the tender kiss they'd shared had been…well, she was trying to avoid thinking about it, though it kept popping into her head.
Much as she enjoyed sparring with him, though, she was not ready to have a relationship with a man who might so easily dominate her. Her relationship with Harry--who turned out to be such a snake—had made her wary. She didn't want a new relationship; the old one had only been over for a year. And, even if she did find a new relationship, she sure as hell wouldn't choose a man who made his displeasure known on her butt. Even if she deserved it. Just because her father and brothers fell into that category with their women didn't mean she wanted to make it a family-wide activity. Maybe it had been good enough for her mother, and even for Queenie as a kid, but now she was a grown woman.
If her temper sometimes got away from her, then so what? People got used to it. It was annoying when they tuned her out because of it, but it made her argue harder and louder. Usually, that got her her way.
Maybe she was a little spoiled. But Queenie didn't care. She was what she was. If that meant that there was no man willing to accept her, so be it.
Will Mazie might have kissed her, might have helped her out, but that didn't mean he accepted her, faults and all. It didn't mean anything. And it wouldn't be happening again anyway.
Queenie was entering the kitchen when her phone rang. As she greeted Consuela, she looked at the caller ID. Her eyebrows knitted and she debated whether to take the call or not, finally deciding that Harry would be too persistent to be avoided.
"Hi, Harry."
"I owe you," he said.
She sat down at the kitchen table. "You do?"
"You left me in that crappy little jail."
"You're out now?"
T
here was an airy sound as he took a drag of his cigarette. "Yeah. My dad sent one of his assistants with a boatload of money."
"How nice for you. What do you want?"
"You are such a bitch! He threatened to stop payin' for my condo if I didn't stay clean. It's all your fault. If you'd have bailed me out, I wouldn't have had to tell him."
"You didn't tell him, Harry. I did. When I called him, like I said I would."
"Oh yeah. You're real responsible. Real reliable." He snorted. "You like getting me into trouble."
Queenie was tempted to hang up, but some instinct told her to pay attention. "Okay, so I'm a bitch and you're a druggie. Is there more you'd like to discuss?"
"I'm gonna make sure you pay for this, Queenie."
The alarm bells in Queenie's head got louder, but it wasn't the first time Harry had threatened her when he was being petulant. So far, his threats had been impotent. "This is borin', Harry."
He puffed on his cigarette again. "What would happen if you broke a few fingers? Or your elbows?"
Her career would be seriously derailed, that's what. Or worse, over permanently.
"Are you threatenin' me with violence?"
"No. Just askin' what if."
"I'll be lettin' my Daddy know about this, Harry. If anythin' happens to me like that, he'll find you and put the sheriff and my brothers on you."
"I'm not afraid of you or any of the Journeys."
"Goodbye."
As she drew the phone away from her head, he yelled, "Wait!" And, against her better judgment, she put it back to her ear again.
"What?"
"You can fix it all, Queenie. I'm still makin' you that offer to go in on Thunder McCleary."
"Goddamn it, Harry. I said no. Nothin' has changed."
"You're gonna regret your decision."
She was already regretting taking his call. "Don't threaten me again, asshole." The phone made a small beep when she pushed the disconnect button.
Angry through-and-through, and a little worried, she sat at the table and considered her options.
She was swamped with the Boot Camp corporate bonding event currently underway, and there was another coming up the following week. Little details kept going wrong and she was scrambling to make sure things went smoothly for their paying guests. Ace normally handled these things, and, even though Queenie was a partner in the business she owned with two of her brothers, she didn't usually have to handle the day-to-day affairs. Ace couldn't get home soon enough for her.
Between Will Mazie's high-handed behavior, Boot Camp issues, and now threats from Harry, Queenie was more than a little stressed.
She took a deep breath, and drank the sweet tea Consuela provided. It looked like it was going to be a difficult week.
* * *
Arthur was waiting when Will got home from Journey's End. He was frowning and emptying the dishwasher as though the dishes were made of steel rather than fragile pottery.
"Marco needs you out at the barn."
"Hello to you, too." Friendly chiding didn't bring a smile to the older man's face, so Will got worried. "Something wrong?"
"Someone hung one of the cats from a hay pulley."
"Shit!" Will didn't stop to make further conversation. He raced out of the house to the barn.
Marco looked up from where he was working. "Will."
"Hey, Marco. What's the story with the cat? It couldn't have been an accident?"
Shaking his head, the other man replied, "Not unless cats have learned to tie hangman's knots."
Will's heart sank. Whoever was killing his animals wasn't doing it casually. "I'll call the sheriff."
There was a light thunk as the pitchfork was put back in its place. Marco faced Will squarely. "Don't bother. The deputy was out here this mornin' and asked about the dead chickens. I told him about the cat, too, and he wrote it down then drove away. I don't think they give a damn."
"I don't get it," Will fumed. "They're the law. They're supposed to take stuff like this seriously. I thought small town sheriffs were helpful and dutiful. I might was well be back in Hollywood for all the help I'm getting!"
Marco's brown eyes strayed from Will's face, and he picked up a loose hank of rope, looping it evenly around his arm. "I reckon that's the problem, Will. You're from Hollywood."
"So?"
There was a tension in the man's shoulders that suggested his discomfort with what he was saying. "Seems like there’s some bigotry goin' on. You're from the city. They'd don't figure you belong here. There's talk among the men, too. It's ugly, but you're not from around here, so they don't know what to expect from you. And you know what they say about people bein' scared of thin's they don't understand."
"What kind of bullshit is that?"
Marco shrugged. "An observation."
Marco was a good man, one of the original Caswell employees who'd stayed around. Will had no regrets about choosing him over the other ranch hands who'd applied for the foreman's position, though there had been some grumbling. Apparently, the grumbling was over more than the job.
Will wanted to explode with fury. He'd come to Texas rather than choosing some other western state because he found the people friendly and open-hearted here when he was looking for a place he could call home. He reasoned that they'd accept him while he got his ranching feet under him. What Marco was telling him completely shattered his notion of how things were supposed to work. Cynicism ate at him. Things weren't much different among people after all.
"Well, we can't sit around on our butts and hope the vandals will just lose interest!"
"Nope."
Although it had all been make-believe, Will had been a good screenwriter for the detective series. He could plot his way through a mystery as well as the next writer. Maybe he could solve this crime as well.
"Have there been any strangers coming around to visit? New relatives or that kind of thing?"
Marco stopped working as he thought about it. "Nope. But a few of the hands are men I haven't worked with afore. All came with recommendations, though. Some folks are quiet haters, though."
"Hmm. Well, round them all up. I want to talk to them one by one."
"Yup. It'll take a few hours. A couple are a ways out fixin' fences."
Will nodded and turned toward the house, but thought of something else. "We might want to put a guard on duty until this shithead is caught."
"I'll do it myself."
"It might be dangerous, Marco, and you have a wife and kids."
The other man waved it off. "Yeah, well. I'll keep my Smith & Wesson nearby."
Will looked at him for a moment, deciding if it was the right thing to do. But as he was thinking, Arthur ran up, his face a mask of worry and alarm.
"Queenie Journey is here, and she's mighty upset."
"Is she hurt?"
"I dunno. She's near hysterical."
"Damn!" Will turned back to Marco. "Handle it however you see fit. But I want to meet with those men."
"Got it, boss."
Arthur led the way back to the house and pointed toward the sitting room where Will kept his books and entertainment center. "She's in there."
As Will approached the archway to the room, he could hear sobbing, and it made him hurry even faster. He'd heard Queenie sob before, after a spanking, but these were heart-wrenching, panicked sobs. He took her hands as he sat next to her on the couch.
"Hey, honey. What's wrong?" Tears were coursing down her face, but as she looked up at him, it touched him that she was trying to be brave. He plucked a fresh tissue out of the box nearby and handed it to her.
"Calm down, honey. Tell me what happened."
"I-I-I was drivin' down the road. On my way over to-to-to you…" She wiped her face and took a stuttering breath. "I have papers from my Daddy for you to sign."
Will thumbed a tear off her face. "Okay. What happened?"
"A woman drivin' an SUV pulled up behind me and bumped my car. Hard!"
"So, t
here was a traffic accident?"
"No! She bumped me several times! She was tryin' to run me off the road and into the storm ditch!" Queenie began to sob again.
The subtle scent of fear surrounded Queenie like fingers of fog. Heat radiated off her body as though she was feverish. "But you got away." Thank goodness she got away! Will wanted to present a calm demeanor in the face of this near-tragedy, but it took a lot of effort.
"Y-y-yeah. But, fuck, Will, it was scary! I could have died!" She began to cry hard, and Will tried to curb his feelings of helplessness. She was hysterical and didn't seem inclined to calm down.
"Honey…honey, you've got to get hold of yourself." He pushed her hair off her forehead and tried to soothe her. "You're okay, right?"
Her breath was hitching. Maybe she was going to hyperventilate.
"Calm down, Queenie." He tried to get her to look at him, but she wasn't paying attention, too upset to think straight. Pulling her into his arms, he made quiet, calming noises and petted her back. Nothing seemed to work. He kissed her temple gently, and hugged her tightly, rocking her like a child.
More information on the car, the driver, the place in the road, was needed and needed quickly or the culprit might get away, and yet Queenie was too upset to answer those questions. Something had to happen to bring her out of her hysterics. In the old movies, that would entail slapping the hysterical person in the face, but that was totally against Will's nature. Instead, he turned her over his lap and pushed her knee-length full skirt up to the small of her back. She wore a bright red thong this time, and he was briefly tempted to yank it down. However, there was more urgency to the situation, and her butt was well-exposed, so he simply gave her a pair of hard smacks on the rump. It was a fine rump, too, and made more glorious by the handprints he left.
"Queenie! Come out of it now, honey! Calm down!"
She cried out with the spanks, and continued to sob.
He whacked her bare rear a dozen more times, and she began to struggle.
"S-s-stop it!"
Good. She was getting mad. That was much better than hysterics. He brought his hand down hard again and again, and she began to curse.
"Goddamn it! That hurts!"
"Yup, and it's gonna continue to hurt until you get hold of yourself. And watch your tongue!"
Spanking Her Highness Page 4
