Claimed by the Mountain Man

by Amelia Smarts

  “P-please, Trapper Jack. I’m sorry.”

  He didn’t acknowledge her apology. She twisted and reached her hand back to cover her poor assaulted seat, but he caught her wrist and held it against her lower back without slowing the swats. The pain became such that she cried without abandon, her sobs loud, open-mouthed wails. She didn’t know how much more she could take. She thought starving to death or dying of hypothermia would have been easier to bear by the time his hand settled. When it finally did, she shifted nervously over his legs, weeping and praying it was finally over.

  After such a loud spanking, the room seemed especially quiet. The only sounds were the rain pelting the roof, the crackling of the fire, and the sound of her crying. She didn’t think she’d ever be able to sit again comfortably after being so thoroughly punished by the big man’s hand. When Trapper Jack released her wrist, she swiped at her tears with the backs of her hands. She heard a whimper that didn’t come from her and looked over to find the wolf inching toward them on his belly, whining as he did.

  “Go lie down, Cager,” Trapper Jack growled, and the wolf complied immediately, returning to his rug, his ears and eyes still fastened on them with interest and concern over what had just happened.

  Some time passed during which Trapper Jack said nothing. Nettie apologized again through her tears. “I’m sorry, I was so hungry. I promise I never used to steal. It’s not like me.” She didn’t know why she needed him to know that. He surely didn’t care about her previous behavior—only that she had stolen his chickens recently. Her sobs became hiccups. She was afraid to move, not wanting to displease him, so she waited for his permission to get off his lap.

  He settled his left hand on the center of her back. Still not speaking, he ran his punishing hand lightly over her hot skin. His gentle touch surprised her even more than his hauling her over his lap. Slowly he caressed her swollen globes. Nettie felt a tug at her core, an arousal that built the longer she remained helpless and naked over Jack’s lap. He rubbed her bottom until the sting dissipated into a dull ache.

  She felt confused. Five minutes earlier, she would have sworn he was the meanest man to ever exist, but now he seemed almost tender. What confused her more was the fact that she felt disappointed when he stopped caressing her. A man’s touch wasn’t something she had welcomed in a very long time.

  “You’ll sleep here tonight, young lady. Tomorrow I’ll figure out what to do with you.”

  “All right. Th-thank you,” she said, still sniffling. She was relieved by his pronouncement. She felt too weary to return to the cave now, where she would no doubt struggle to get warm once again. Trapper Jack made her nervous, but she didn’t feel afraid anymore. He’d punished her, and it had hurt, but he’d also fed and warmed her.

  He stood with her in his arms and carried her to the bed against the far wall of the room, where he laid her down on her stomach. The bed felt wonderfully soft beneath her. Trapper Jack retrieved the fur blanket from its heap in front of the fireplace and placed it over her naked body. She hissed as it scraped against her punished bottom, but the discomfort she felt from that was nothing compared to the discomfort she’d felt for weeks lying on the hard ground of the cave. She rested her head on the pillow he provided, and she realized then just how weary she was. Through half-lidded eyes, she watched Trapper Jack wring the water from each of her garments into a bucket, then hang them near the fire to dry.

  He lay by her side in the bed, and she stiffened for a moment, suddenly worried that he might have dishonorable intentions. But when he turned his back to her, she breathed a sigh of relief, and she appreciated the warmth radiating from his large body. Lying in a warm bed with a belly full of food, an aching bottom, and no fear of molestation, she closed her eyes and fell into her first deep, dreamless sleep since the night before word had come of her husband’s death.

  Chapter Two: Naughty Nettie

  After a night of fitful sleep and frequent waking, Jack awoke again at the crack of dawn. Soft sunlight streamed through the windows. The woman was snuggled against his back, likely not realizing she’d inched over in her sleep to gain warmth from his body. His hormones raged and he groaned as he realized he was rock hard. He’d more or less been that way all night. Having a naked woman writhing over his lap was more than enough to arouse him under normal circumstances, let alone after years without a woman’s touch. He struggled to get her naked backside and cunny, which peaked into view occasionally during her flailing, out of his mind.

  The theft had angered Jack, and he believed she deserved every lick she got. He had suspected that a coyote or fox was responsible for stealing his chickens, though it had puzzled him because he couldn’t find the entry point into the coop. When he thought about what kind of trap to use to catch the thief, he decided on a pit. He didn’t know any other trapper who used the same, since to set it up required a great deal of time and patience. It was the perfect trap for this situation, though, since it didn’t need to be moved after being set in place. Never would he have guessed that a person was responsible for the theft, least of all a woman. He was a good ten miles from the nearest town, and he wondered how and why she ended up in his neck of the woods.

  He rose reluctantly and studied the woman, who still snored softly. She looked familiar to him somehow, but he couldn’t think of how they would have met. She had red hair that fell only to her shoulders and a smattering of freckles across her pale face. She was an attractive woman, but what struck Jack was how small and helpless she looked. He didn’t know what to do with her, but he knew he wished to get her to safety, wherever that may be. Jack added another log to the fire and ambled to the door where Cager sat patiently, waiting to be let out for the day. He opened the door and watched the wolf scamper out and disappear into the forest. Cager had been Jack’s only company for quite some time. He hadn’t been to town in nearly a year, and he had no neighbors. He’d sworn off people since he left the army with a bullet in his leg and contempt for humankind in his heart. Marching with the Confederacy and watching both sides slaughter each other had changed him in such a way that he no longer had any wish to interact with anyone, with the exception of the wife he’d left behind.

  He discovered that his wife had died upon his return to Tennessee after his stint in the war. That was when he went crazy, according to the townsfolk. He moved to Montana, the most desolate place he could think of, and settled in the woods. He gleaned his sustenance from nature, which, unlike people, was pure and honest in its cruelty. The people in the nearest town of Helena knew little about him except that he’d been to war and lost his wife to consumption. They made up rumors and spread lies about him, but nothing they said could ever be as horrible as what he’d done to his wife. He’d broken her heart, and the memory of it haunted him daily, as did the fact that he’d never be able to rectify it, due to her untimely death.

  Jack lit the fire of the Dutch oven and blew it to life. He plucked a frying pan from its hook on the wall and added a dollop of animal fat to it. Opening the cellar door, he reached down and retrieved eggs and a cured ham he’d made from a feral boar he’d shot not too long ago. Normally he wouldn’t eat meat in the morning, but since the woman looked like she could use another hearty meal, he decided to make an exception. The food sizzled in the pan, and his mouth watered. The eggs and ham, along with the leftover stew from last night, would be more than enough for the two of them.

  He heard the sounds of stirring. When he glanced over at the bed, he saw that the woman was sitting up, holding the blanket tight to her chest and staring at him with wide eyes.

  “Go sit at the table for some breakfast,” he ordered. “We need to talk about what in the tarnation you’re doing out here in the middle of the woods.”

  “I-I can’t get out of the bed.”

  Jack wasn’t going to put up with any more disagreeable behavior from his uninvited guest. “Get moving, woman, before I drag you to the table myself.”

  “No,” she said in a placati
ng tone. “I mean, I want to do your bidding, but I don’t have any clothes on.”

  Of course. How could he forget? It had been impossible to get her nakedness out of his mind while he was lying in bed waiting for sleep. Jack walked to where her clothes hung by the fire and confirmed what he already suspected. Her trousers and shirt weren’t yet dry. “You’ll have to wear a shirt of mine until your clothes dry.” He walked to the dresser he’d built a year ago out of a felled Ponderosa pine and opened one of the two drawers. He chose a flannel shirt and held it out to her.

  She took it and continued to stare at him with wide eyes. “You spanked me really hard. It hurt like the dickens.”

  He raised a brow slowly. “That’s kind of the point. Did you think you were over my knee for a good time?”

  She shook her head. “No, and I will admit I deserved it. But… are you going to do it again?” Worry flashed in her eyes.

  Her words softened him a bit. He could see she didn’t want to do anything to earn another punishment, and that would make their acquaintance a lot more bearable for him. “Not if you behave yourself and do as you’re told.”

  She nodded her agreement. He turned his attention back to the frying pan. He only owned one plate, so he spilled her portion onto it and set it on the table, which only had one stool by it. “Sit there,” he said, pointing at the stool. She scurried over to obey, buttoning the last button of the shirt as she did. Her immediate obedience pleased him. He noticed that she winced upon sitting, and that pleased him too. She would think twice before stealing in the future.

  She stared at the plate of food in front of her, then looked up at him with her round eyes. They were blue, he noticed, and full of apprehension. He leaned back against the counter and crossed his arms. “What are you waiting for? Eat.”

  “But what about you?” she asked. “Aren’t you going to eat?”

  “Yes, just as soon as you finish. There’s only one plate, see, and one stool, so I’d be obliged if you got to chowing right quick. I have things that need doing this morning after we both eat, not least of which is figuring out what to do with you.”

  Her eyes lit with understanding, and she obeyed. She dug into the scrambled eggs with her fork and chewed quickly. In between bites, she said, “I’m mighty grateful, Trapper Jack. I don’t feel right eating your chuck, especially before you.”

  He didn’t acknowledge her comment. Instead he said, “You seem to know about me, at least what people in town like to say, and I don’t know anything about you. Who are you, and what are you doing out here in the woods?”

  She swallowed her bite of eggs. “Same thing you’re doing. Surviving off the land.”

  He scoffed. “Real fine job you’re doing.”

  She looked up, and a wounded look crossed her face. “Mock me if you want, but I do what I have to. My husband never came home from the war. I was evicted from my house two years ago without so much as a penny to my name.”

  This explained nothing, as far as Jack was concerned. She was a fool if she thought she could survive in the woods. Winter would come quickly, and he highly doubted she had shelter that would suffice. “You should find a job in Helena or remarry. It’s not practical for a woman to live out here.”

  “I didn’t exactly get a lot of marriage proposals following my husband’s death. Besides, I don’t want to get married. Don’t care much for the idea. I only ever loved my husband.”

  He didn’t budge in his opinion, though he could understand the feeling of only loving one person. He himself had only loved his wife and couldn’t imagine loving another. Still, the war had killed many a woman’s husband, and he didn’t see other women traipsing the woods of Montana stealing chickens and ending up in a hole in the ground, so his sympathy didn’t run deep.

  Nettie stuffed a big piece of ham in her mouth. Jack raked his hand through his hair. “If you have to steal to survive, that means you don’t know how to catch food on your own. You can’t live here without those skills. Then there’s the matter of shelter.”

  “I have shelter,” she cut in, speaking with her mouth full. She chewed the rest of the food quickly and gulped it down. “I found a cave about a mile west of here. I learned how to build a fire in just the right spot. Rain and snow can’t get to it, see, but the smoke still escapes without filling the cave and suffocating me.”

  She sounded exceptionally pleased with herself as she relayed that information, and Jack closed his eyes with frustration. He tried to sound more patient than he felt when he responded. “I know that cave, and it’s a grizzly’s hibernating spot. She’ll be wanting it soon, and you’d best not be around when she does.”

  Her eyes widened. The news seemed to shock her.

  He shook his head at her. She didn’t seem stupid, but he didn’t know how she couldn’t have thought of that. She answered that question next.

  “Where I come from, there aren’t grizzlies. I’m from Iowa, see, and I came out here as a mail-order bride. But then my husband went off to fight in the war not long after.”

  Dunderhead, he thought. Her husband would have had to volunteer to fight, since Montana was outside of the draft. “He should have stayed in Montana,” he muttered.

  She nodded sadly. “I wish he had, but he felt a sense of duty. You were in the war too, weren’t you? That’s what I heard.”

  Jack had no desire to talk about the war. “Finish your breakfast,” he ordered gruffly.

  She quieted and focused on eating. After she’d scarfed down her last bite, she stood from the stool. “I’ll get your portion for you, Trapper Jack.” She carried the plate to the oven and scooped the rest of the food onto it, while Jack sat on the stool. She placed the plate in front of him and stood nearby. She looked very small and vulnerable in his huge shirt. Her legs and feet were bare and pale. If she was aware of her immodesty, she didn’t show it.

  Suddenly a memory came to Jack. The last time he’d been in town, he went to the saloon, ordered a beer, and sat alone at a table near the bar. He overheard a conversation.

  “The carpet matches the drapes, if you get my meaning,” a rough-looking cowboy said with a smirk to the drunk man on the stool. “Red as fire. Sarah’s her name, but she goes by Slick Kitty. For a lick and a promise, she’ll take you in her mouth.”

  The drunk guffawed and looked over at where the cowboy pointed, as did Jack. ‘Slick Kitty’ wore a hat with purple plumes, a purple satin dress, and a dour expression.

  Trapper Jack’s mind returned to the present as he regarded the woman in his kitchen. Yes, it had to be her. Same fire-red hair, same mournful look about her. That explained her ease at being only half dressed around a strange man and why she looked familiar to him.

  “I reckon I’ll have to shoot the bear,” she mused, gazing in the direction of the door.

  He barely suppressed another scoff. The idea of her trying to shoot down a grizzly, when she seemed barely strong enough to lift a rifle, was so ridiculous that he didn’t bother responding. He ate another bite of eggs.

  “Hey, which side did you fight on in the war?” she asked suddenly.

  Jack didn’t look up. He was annoyed that she’d mentioned the war again. “Does it matter?”

  “I’d say so. You could be a Reb. That means you could be the man who killed my husband, and here I am talking to you like it’s no big thing.”

  “Well, let’s see here, Nettie,” he said sarcastically. “More men than all the people who live in this state fought in the war. I doubt I was the man who killed your Billy Yank husband, and I doubt he was the man who killed my brother, for that matter.” Jack drank some water, then said sternly, “That’s the last I’ll speak of the war.”

  “But where did you fight at? If you tell me that, I’ll know if you were near my husband.”

  He set his fork down and pinned her with his fiercest stare. “What did I just say? You must have a head of mush, woman. One more word about it, and you’ll wish you were still in that hole outside.”

/>   She looked taken aback before she scowled. “Why? Because you’ll spank me again? Is that your solution to every annoyance?”

  He sawed off a piece of ham. “Maybe,” he said evenly. “Do you want to find out?” He popped the ham in his mouth and gave her a quizzical look.

  “Not especially,” she said, without sounding very concerned. She abandoned him and the topic and walked to the bed. She smoothed his quilt over it, then folded the fur blanket neatly at the end like only a woman would bother to do. He rolled his eyes but secretly appreciated the gesture, just like he had appreciated her serving him his portion of food. He also appreciated the peek she gave him of her thighs and ass as she bent over to make the bed. His shirt wasn’t sufficiently long enough to cover her unless she stood upright, and that was just fine with him.

  Nettie looked around the room of his cabin and walked to the far wall, where she examined a photo that hung there of him and his brother, who was shot down in Gettysburg. She turned to face him. “People say you’re the meanest man to ever walk under the Big Sky, and I reckon you are pretty scary-looking and could use some manners. But now that I know you a bit, you don’t scare me, Trapper Jack.”

  He stifled a smile. It amused him that she made that declaration from as far away as it was possible to get from him in the cabin, which was also right next to the door. “Come a little closer and say that, naughty Nettie.”

  Her lips quirked up, and she cocked her head. “What did you just call me?”

  “You heard me.”

  She smirked at him for a moment, but then sobered. “As soon as my clothes dry, I’ll be out of your hair. I have no wish to depend on a man for any longer than I need to. Thank you for feeding me, though. I’m real grateful.”

  Because he figured out that she’d been a prostitute, he understood her reason for not wanting to depend on a man. He reckoned that she chose to leave town to avoid doing just that, and she probably thought he would demand her body in exchange for food and lodging if she stayed much longer. He wondered if she still planned to live in that blasted cave now that she knew about the grizzly, or if she would return to town and try living there again. He felt compelled to order her to leave the woods, but he could tell by the way she was speaking to him that she wasn’t in the mood to listen to reason. She had a determination and stubbornness in her tone. Easy to be that way on a full belly, he grumbled to himself.