A deep-throated laugh carried Leo out of the room. "Yeah," he called over his shoulder. "I'm gettin' too old to be waitin' much longer."
Consuela laughed, and went back to her dusting.
Queenie stood there, a little non-plussed. What had just happened? They accepted her devastating news with little more than a scolding. Now, if only she could accept it so easily.
* * *
Will wasn't sure the Journeys would believe him. His investigation had hardly been conclusive. Rather a failure, actually. But he was confident he knew what was going on. He didn't know who was behind it, though, and that was the biggest problem.
He'd contacted a guy he'd met in Hollywood—an environmental consultant who'd been a subject expert on the TV show Will worked on. For a price, the fellow was willing to come out and take a few water samples.
The results had come in, two days into Ace Journey's ultimatum. The water was clear upstream, but there was a strong concentration of crude oil further to the west. It flowed from Will's easement, right down the river to Journey's End. It wasn't strong enough to leave black tar on the riverbank, but it was strong enough to make the water hazardous to the cattle. It was no wonder the Journeys were ticked off. Will would be, too.
He was, in fact. He knew the contractors couldn't have done this. There was a much higher concentration of chemicals than they could have possibly used to lubricate or power their equipment. This was sabotage, pure and simple.
There were a lot of tire tracks down at the river's edge by the easement. A light rain had made the soil muddy, but the hot sun afterward had dried the muddy tracks into clear, clay patterns.
This morning, Will followed some of those tracks and mostly met a dead end. The deepest tracks, however, led to an oil tanker truck. It was a mid-sized one, parked in a little pinewood grove off the local Farm-to-Market road. He called the sheriff and reported his discovery.
"So, y'all think that someone is purposely poisoning the water from your pipeline?"
"Downstream from my line, Sheriff. I think it's oil from this tanker."
"You sure you ain't doin' somethin' to cause this chemical spill your own self?"
"I'm sure."
There was a heavy sigh on the other end of the line. "I ain't got no other complaints about the river water."
"The Journeys have mentioned the problem to me, which is why I investigated."
"Investigation is my job, son. You let me do that kind of work, 'k?"
Will realized he was getting nowhere. He had to rely on his own capabilities, and the experience he had writing and solving mysteries for TV. It wasn't much to work with—Will fully realized that real life wasn't much like TV—but it was all he had.
Nonetheless, Will had done what needed to be done with the information he'd gleaned.
It made him that much more suspicious of Reno Casteneda, however. The man knew about driving trucks. If he had any connection to the oil truck, Will would have his saboteur.
In several ways, it made sense. Casteneda had been passed over for the foreman's job, simply on the basis of Ralph Caswell's scribbled notes about each of his hands. Will hadn't even interviewed the fellow, turning right to Marco, who was clearly the more experienced of all the hands. One conversation with Marco and Will knew they'd deal well together. Maybe he should have interviewed more of the men. Maybe it made him seem like an interloper to swan in and mess with the hierarchy. But why hadn't Casteneda quit when he hadn't got the job?
He thought about it as he drove back, directly to Journey's End. Ace Journey had imposed a deadline, and Will didn't want his easement revoked. Although the culprit hadn't been caught, Will was determined to do whatever it took to make the situation work out. He only hoped the Journeys would be satisfied with his methods thus far.
Reaching Journey's End, he found both Ace and Leo standing on the front porch, enjoying the early morning cool before the August heat set in for the day.
Without much greeting, they showed him into Leo's office. This time, Leo sat behind the desk. Will realized what kind of conversation it was going to be.
"I'll get right to the point," he told them. "I know what's poisoning the river."
"So do we," Ace responded.
"Crude oil."
Will nodded at Leo, acknowledging the information. "Right. And, I hope it's obvious to you that I don't have access to crude oil."
Ace held up a hand. "Hold on. That's not obvious at all. You have a few wells on your property."
"A few, yes. But I have no idea how to access the oil in them, nor do I have a method of transporting the oil to the river. And why would I do that anyway? I have no reason to harm you."
"Depends on your goals, son. If you want to make Journey's End less of a competitor for your cattle and produce, then, yup, there's a reason."
"But that's not what I want! I'm in Texas to build a ranch. One ranch. I have no designs on Journey's End or your place in the market."
Ace narrowed his eyes at Will, and once again, Will felt the discomfort associated with that assessing gaze. After a few moments, Ace nodded. "I think you're tellin' the truth." He looked over at Leo. "Could be someone else is tryin' to do us wrong."
"I have a theory," Will told them.
Leo's eyes moved from his son to his guest. "What is it?"
"Well, it's no secret that I come from Hollywood. I'm not hiding it."
The other two men nodded.
"I think someone is trying to get me in trouble so that I quit the ranch and move back to California."
"That's a mighty tall accusation," Leo said with a scowl.
"Hear me out. I don't mean you are doing this. I have a suspicion about who is behind it. I just can't prove it yet."
Ace reached for a pen off his father's desk and began to rotate it through his calloused fingers. "Did you call the sheriff?"
Will nodded. "Yeah. But he's being less than cooperative."
"Hmph. He hasn't been much help about Queenie's car accident either," Leo said.
"He's had some family problems, Dad. I think he's distracted. Don't think we've had these issues with him before."
"True enough. Doesn't make it less annoyin'."
"No."
Will added his impression of the sheriff to the mix. "He didn't seem inclined to help me, either. Maybe he doesn't like people from California."
"Now that's a sure-fired possibility, son," Leo agreed. "He's never been much on city-folk, and has made that clear over the years." He tapped his index finger on his blotter to emphasize his point when he said, "But that don't make him less responsible for catchin' the criminals around these parts."
Nodding, Will tried to reassure the Journeys that he was doing what he could to solve the pollution crime. "I think I know who's behind it. I'm trying to figure out how to get proof."
"If you need help, Will, we'll do what we can," Ace told him. "We have a stake in it."
"Yeah. We all do."
Ace stood. "I've got chores to get to. Queenie's 'bout done for after all the Boot Camp work these past two weeks. She looks tired through-and-through."
Will wondered if that was why she'd been avoiding his calls. "I'm kinda hoping to see her while I'm here."
Leo was enigmatic. "Sure enough. I'm sure we can scare her up."
Ace extended his hand. "I'll see ya 'round, Will. Don't forget to call if you need a hand."
"I'll work on getting this straightened out as soon as possible."
Coming around his desk, Leo put a hand on Will's shoulder as the younger man stood up. "Let's go find that daughter of mine."
* * *
Queenie pored over the sheet music she had in front of her. Her fiddle lay on a table nearby while she tried out her composition on the family spinet. She was trying to figure out a particularly difficult transition in a song she was writing in the hopes of submitting it to a publisher. It would make her career if someone like Blake Shelton or Josh Turner sang her song. It would send her on her way t
o something more fulfilling than playing fiddle in a road band. She much preferred composing over playing in honky-tonks.
But any semblance of concentration blew away when Will and her father walked into the room and stood in the middle, dominating the comfortable space. She half-turned to greet them.
"Daddy. Will."
Her father patted Will on the shoulder and started toward the door. "Old woman," he called as he spied Consuela passing down the hall. "Kindly get our guest some tea." His booted footsteps thudded down the hallway as he headed toward the kitchen and the backdoor.
"Out of here, you old coot!" She yelled back, a smile in her voice.
Queenie sat silently, tinkling on the piano as she tried not to meet Will's gaze. Consuela quietly poured them some iced tea. As she served it, she leaned close to Queenie. "Do the right thing, niña," she whispered. After another few moments, Queenie and Will were alone.
Will spoke first. "You look a little tired, Queenie."
She bristled. She knew she looked tired. Did he have to point it out? "You would too if you'd been slavin' away gettin' business done around here!"
He held up both hands. "Whoa. I didn't mean to offend you. Now that Ace is back, are things easing up for you?"
She nodded and turned around on the piano bench, sighing as she met his gaze. "Yeah. I'm takin' a couple of days off."
Will's eyes sparkled when he smiled, and a surge of interest sparkled in her middle. She couldn't help but remember the feel of him behind her, pressing himself into her body and riding her like a rodeo stud.
"Good. You know," he began, then began again. "You know, I've been trying to get hold of you for days. Is your phone working?"
Guilt washed over her. She'd been avoiding him on purpose. It was hard to come to grips with what they'd done, and that was before the pregnancy was a factor. She didn't want to be attracted to Will. Especially not as wildly attracted as she was. She wanted to feel him between her legs, wanted to face him when he filled her. Memory of bantering stirred within her and she had to remind herself again how unhappy she'd been with Harry Tatum, and how much a new relationship would risk. Even a relationship with Will.
"Yeah, my phone is working." She turned back to the piano. "I've been busy."
He paused for a moment. "Why did you run, Queenie? What did I say?"
There was a miserable churning in her gut, and she took a sip of tea to wet her dry mouth. "Nothin'. I realized how wrong it was. How big a mistake it was to let thin's go so far. I wanted to put some distance and time between us, is all."
He nodded and stood up from his place on the couch, coming to stand at her shoulder. "Well, now there's been distance, and there's been time. I think there's something building between us and we ought to go with that."
She remembered what Consuela had said--do the right thing--and how her father had warned her not to keep her news to herself for too long. Queenie knew she had to tell him. He had a right to know.
"I'm movin' to Cincinnati," she blurted. Immediately, she regretted it, and sat forward, putting her face in her hands.
"Cincinnati?"
She couldn't lie. She'd never been a good liar, and she knew in her heart she couldn't move thousands of miles away. Her father was right, running away didn't solve anything. "No! I'm not. I lied. I'm sorry."
Will's voice was puzzled and he touched her upper arms gently. "What's wrong, honey? Talk to me."
"Oh, Will." She faced him again, staring at the buttons on his shirt. "We did the most fuckin' stupid thing imaginable. We fooled around without protection."
His hands dropped to his sides. "I…I don't have any diseases. Do you?"
"No. That's not what I'm tellin' you." She raised her face and looked in his eyes. "I'm pregnant."
Slowly, he moved back to the couch, but his gaze never left her face. Tears coursed down her cheeks, and she wiped them away with the backs of her hands.
"Yeah, that was pretty stupid. I guess I got carried away by the moment. Truth to tell, I have never been careless before." His smile was wry. "You make me crazy."
She snorted and sniffled. "You make me crazy, too."
"We'll get married."
"No."
Will frowned. "What do you mean? If you intend to-"
"No! I'm not goin' to do anythin' I'd regret later. I'll have the baby and keep it and love it."
"But you won't marry me?"
Her jaw tightened. Was he dense? "No. I. Won't. Marry. You. Is that clear enough?"
He smacked his hand down on his thigh and she jumped. "That is not reasonable! A baby needs a mother and a father."
Queenie thought about her own parents. She'd had both of them until she was twelve. What would she have been like without either? Well, she'd have her family to help her. They'd provide the guidance and support that she needed, that her baby needed.
"I can do this, Will. You have no obligation."
"Like hell I don't! Are you trying to say you did this all by yourself? What gives you the right to keep my child away from me? To deprive him or her of the things I can give?"
Put that way, Queenie felt kind of small and mean-spirited. "I won't keep you away."
"That is for sure. We're getting married."
She glared at him, her temper flaring. "You can't make me marry you, Will Mazie!"
"I'm gonna try!"
Queenie stood and stomped over to him. "You'll regret it!"
He stood and confronted her squarely. "Everyone lives with regrets, Queenie. I'll deal with it."
"Oh! You are the most infuriatin'…goddamned son of a bitch!" She grabbed his tea off the coffee table and flung the liquid in his face.
He sputtered slightly, but fury suffused his cheeks with red. "That's it! You have crossed the line!"
As she watched sugary tea drip down his chin and off his ears, Queenie was horrified. She'd never done anything so dramatic in her life! Her temper had made her react in the worst possible way. She backed up a step, the empty glass still in her hand. "I'm sorry! I didn't mean…"
Will grabbed the glass and put it down on the table, following her as she backed slowly away. The expression on his face was terrible to behold. When he decisively took hold of her upper arms and drew her back toward the couch, she knew what was in store.
Firmly, he pulled her with him as he sat and her struggles and protests were ignored. He was handling her carefully, cautious not to harm her, but inexorably, she was yanked onto her knees on the floor by his side, with her breasts pressing one well-muscled inner thigh. When she heard his belt sliding from its loops, she struggled all the harder, but he was considerably stronger and held her firmly in place. Her elastic-waist shorts got yanked down to her knees, and the little yellow floral thong she'd put on to cheer herself up was unceremoniously yanked down, too.
Air wafted over her butt, and she realized it was warm in anticipation of the fire to come.
"No, Will! You can't do this! I'm pregnant!"
"It's way early in your pregnancy, and I'm not gonna spank your belly, Queenie. Your butt is fair territory."
No one came running when she squawked at the first harsh stroke of the belt on her behind. A bolt of fire flared on her right cheek, followed quickly with another on her left, and it continued that way for a number of spanks. She cried out and squirmed, trying to pull away from her place at his feet. He held her gently, but his hold was secure.
"You will not throw things at me ever again!" he told her, as he whaled away.
Each spank was harder than the last, and when they traveled down her thighs, Queenie began to sob, her anger replaced with miserable regret.
"I try to treat you with respect, Queenie! I'm offering to do the honorable thing where you and the baby are concerned. And what do I get for it? A face full of sweet tea!"
The swats were coming fast and furious, each one snapping loudly as it connected.
"Ow! Please! I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"
"I can make allowances for the fac
t that you're dealing with serious issues right now, but there's no call for you to take your anger out on me like that!"
"Will…oh, please! I promise I'll never do it again."
He continued to tan her bottom and the growing welts felt like snake bites. They moved all over her thighs and behind, and when he concentrated the smacks on the junction of thigh and bottom, she sobbed, tears dripping down her face and onto the rag rug.
She sniffled and cried, ashamed that she couldn't take her punishment without falling apart. Embarrassed that she'd so misbehaved that she needed to be punished at all. Finally, as the fire settled evenly over her tenderized skin, she admitted to herself that she had the spanking coming to her, and all the fight went out of her.
It was at that point that Will stopped. He put his belt to the side and ran his hand over her rear, his fingertips barely touching in a soothing caress. "You going to behave now?"
She nodded, sniffling and gasping.
"I want to hear you say it." He levered her up onto his lap, so she sat against him, her head cradled under his chin.
"I-I'm sorry. I'll try harder to be good."
"Okay." He stroked her back gently, and although her butt hurt mightily, it was comforting to feel his hand on her and the warmth of his body against her side.
"But…but even a spanking can't make me marry you, Will."
He sighed, and she wondered if maybe he was going to spank her again, but he didn't. Instead, he said, "I don't have to make you. You'll do the right thing."
Consuela's words haunted her again. When he gently turned her face toward his, she was surprised and didn't protest. His mouth came down on hers in a possessive kiss that made her insides tremble. He ravished her mouth and then peppered kisses all over her face while one hand snaked down her belly to rest on it, low.
"Ours," he told her. "That means you and me."
A surge of unwelcome emotion swept over her. She couldn't agree to marry him and yet she wanted her baby to have everything and everyone he or she needed. "Don't push me, Will. Please, give me time."
His eyes roved over her face and she met something there…something deep and warm. "Okay, Queenie. But not much time. You can't be selfish in this case."
Spanking Her Highness Page 7
