by Maggie Ryan
"Let Charity do that. I need to talk to you." When James seemed indecisive, he added, "It's important. Let's go outside."
The men went out. Roger walked a few feet away and rolled a cigarette while Wyatt stood patiently next to Richard. James was the only one shuffling his feet and continually glancing back towards the door. Richard and Wyatt exchanged a glance and Richard shook his head before speaking.
"Look, I'm going to be brutally honest with you James."
James's head turned towards his friend.
"You are beginning to worry me."
"Me? What did I do?"
"That's just it, you aren't doing anything but driving your wife crazy. If you don't give Charity some room to breathe and let her do what she loves to do, which is to take care of you and her children, you are going to be a very unhappy man." He didn't let James interrupt. "Yes, you both had a scare but Grace is fine. Hope is fine, but Charity is not fine. I thought we'd covered this before but, for God's sake man, you've turned a sweet woman into a foul-mouthed person who is actually contemplating your demise."
James's mouth dropped open and then he sputtered, "What? She wants me dead?"
Wyatt chuckled and Richard shook his head. "Of course not, but I'm beginning to think you might need a good smack upside the head. You know, we talk about the danger of being too lenient with our women, but I think we've all been too lenient with you. It's time for you to get back to work. And, James, it's time you get back to being the husband your wife deserves and desires. If you can't do that, then by all means, put on an apron and play house, but let us have Charity. That woman is a little spitfire, and you two need to be separated before Charity commits murder."
The silence lasted for a full minute before they heard James blow out a huge breath. "I admit I've been a little crazy, but I guess I didn't trust myself to know when enough was enough."
"I'm telling you, that time is now," Richard said.
"Hey, I'm new to this, but I can tell you, I wish I'd been a bit more observant and had trusted my gut myself," Wyatt added. "If I had, Agatha wouldn't have felt so lost and alone when we were newly married. If I'd trusted my instincts, maybe it wouldn't have taken so long to begin to really enjoy the state of matrimony."
James looked sheepishly at them. "Well, if what Richard said is true, it seems that I'm just as guilty. I was just so scared I'd lose both Charity and the baby that I guess I've gone a little overboard. I apologize."
"There's no need to apologize. We all understand," Wyatt assured him.
"Foul-mouthed, you said?"
Wyatt looked unsure as to what to say but Richard nodded. "Yup, seems to have the idea that she can curse, as she put it, 'every other word', and not worry about the consequences."
James finally relaxed and grinned. "Does she now? Well, I assure you, some little woman is either going to change her mind, or find herself warm without the benefit of all that firewood I've been chopping."
Not bothering to point out that he'd just basically suggested that same thing, Richard said, "Just take it slow. If her journal looks anything like Anna's did, it will take weeks to catch up." Slapping his friend on the shoulder, he added, "There's something else, but I think we need to share it with the women."
Once back inside, James went to sit at the table. "Honey, how about some more coffee?"
Richard saw Charity look a bit surprised and then a smile lit her face. She jumped up and refilled cups as the men settled back onto their chairs. Once everyone had been served, Richard told them about Anna's scare the day before. He didn't mention the intimate details but told them about the tracks he'd found. Though the women looked a bit frightened, they listened without interrupting.
"You are all going to learn to shoot," Richard said. "There will be times when we are gone and you'll need to know how to protect yourselves. Granted, that won't be for a while, but when we start the cattle drives, we might be gone for a few weeks. Until then, we still won't be around the house all day."
"Do you know what animal it was?" Agatha asked.
"I'm not exactly sure what type, but the tracks are definitely some sort of a cat," Richard said, "a large cat. I lost them in the tree line, but the fact that he came that close to the house is a concern. From now on, no trips to the privy or the barns after dusk unless you are carrying a gun and know how to use it."
"I'm going to ride out to your place and see if I can follow the tracks," James announced. "It would help to know if this was a one-time incident or if the animal has been coming and going."
"Oh, James, I don't want you to do anything dangerous," Charity said.
"I'll be fine and so will you, honey. Just stay inside with the girls. It's time I pulled my weight around here." She didn't look happy but she nodded.
They left the house with Charity's list and climbed back into the wagon.
"I've never shot a gun," Agatha said. "They scare me."
"Don't worry, I'll teach you all you need to know," Wyatt assured her. "By the time we are done, all of you will be able to knock a squirrel out of a tree."
"Forget squirrels," Anna said. "I'll be aiming for anything that growls." They laughed at her comment but all knew the seriousness of the situation.
Chapter Ten
James stood with his arm around his wife's waist as they watched the wagon drive out of sight. The moment it did, he popped his hand against her bottom.
"Ow! What was that for?" Charity asked, the shock on her face telling him it had been far too long since she'd been taken in hand.
"That, young lady, is but the first of many. I accept part of the responsibility for our house being out of kilter, but I do not accept all of it. What's with going behind my back and practically begging Richard to talk to me?"
"I just wanted to let him know that I didn't need you anymore," she said. He was about to speak when she shook her head. "That didn't come out right. I just mean that you don't need to be around all the time. Aren't you tired of seeing nothing but the house for all these weeks?"
"That's funny, I thought I was seeing to the welfare of my family. You make it sound as if I have just been slouching around, not doing a damn thing."
"I didn't mean it that way! I just mean—"
"I suggest you stop telling me what you don't mean and tell me what you do," James said. "I can't tell you how embarrassed I was to be basically taken to the woodshed and lectured on my behavior." He was glad to see that Charity had the grace to look at least a bit sheepish. He sighed and rubbed his hand over his face. "And what's this I hear about my allowing you to turn into a foul-mouthed woman? Since when did you think you are allowed to curse 'every other word' and think you could get away with it?"
"Since you stopped caring enough about me to do anything about it!" The sheepish look was gone to be replaced with flashing eyes. "You said you want me to tell you what I mean? Then listen carefully, James Blakemore. I am tired of being treated like an invalid. I am tired of you constantly telling me to sit down or take another damn nap. I love you and I love spending time with you…" Her chest heaved and he saw her eyes filling with tears. "James, I know how awful you felt because you couldn't fix me…"
"Oh, honey, you never needing fixing." He pulled her to him. "You did nothing to cause any of this, Charity. It just happened but it's over. Gracie is fine. You are fine…" He realized his words were echoing Richard's. Dropping his chin to rest on top of his wife's head, he sighed. "You were right to go to Richard. I've been acting like an idiot."
"No, you were acting like a worried father," Charity corrected, tilting her head back to look up at him. "But, James, I'm not your third child, I am your wife. Please, I'm begging you, please treat me as the woman you love. I-I've missed your touch." She laid her head back against his chest.
The veil over his eyes finally lifted. He'd been so afraid that he'd lose his wife in childbirth. But God hadn't taken either her or their daughter from him. If he lost Charity, it would be because he had stopped being the man she
needed. It was time he trusted her to know what she needed, what her limitations were. And, it was time for him to remember that he really didn't want to wear an apron.
"Are you sure that's what you want?" he asked.
"Yes. Yes, sir."
Her addition of the word 'sir' told him a great deal. It was a term of respect that he'd not heard in quite a while. He wasn't the sort of man who needed his wife ending every answer or request with 'sir'. They'd been married long enough that they both knew when it was expected; and the time it was most often used was before, during, and after he'd spanked her. She was telling him that while she was past ready for him to step away, she also needed him to step in.
"You've been keeping your journal, right?"
"Um, mostly."
"Mostly?"
"Yes, sir, but I couldn't enter anything for the last couple of weeks."
"Couldn't or just decided it wasn't worth your effort?"
She stepped back and lifted her head. "I couldn't because I ran out of room."
James felt his mouth drop open, closed it and then said, "Ran out of room? How could you have run out of room?"
"Um…"
Shaking his head, he said, "Bring me your journal." She nodded and practically ran into the house. How in the hell could she have run out of room? She was a wonderful wife and he honestly couldn't remember more than a few times when she'd been naughty over the last several months.
When she handed him the book, he flipped to the back and noticed that there were no blank pages remaining. As he flipped through the back, he also noticed that most of the last few dozen pages all contained the same words. She must have written the words 'damn it, touch me' well over a hundred times. Well, she certainly had a way with words. He closed the book and looked at her.
"Making a point?"
"I hope so."
He shook his head. "I don't know whether to turn you over my knees or kiss you until you can't breathe."
Charity stepped close. "How about you do both?"
Since the girls were in the house, albeit sleeping, he told her they'd step into the barn. When he saw her look back towards the house twice as they walked in that direction, he stopped. Turning back, he left her on the porch while he went into the house. When he came out with a chair, set it down and patted his knee, she looked around.
"What if somebody sees us?"
"Everyone went to town, remember?"
"Matthew didn't."
"Matthew is with the herd."
"Well, what if—"
"Charity Elizabeth Blakemore, get over my knees before I decide to give you a spanking for every one of those entries."
He was pleased to see her fling herself across his lap. Lifting her skirts and tugging her bloomers down to bare her bottom, he felt something he'd never expected. He felt like he was walking into the light instead of living in the shadows of fear. Placing his hand on her right buttock, he said, "Thank you. Thank you for reminding me of my own place in our family."
"You're quite welcome, sir, but could we get on with it? I'm still saying that we might have an unexpected visit—ow!"
James tucked her into his waist and smiled. Yes, his little wife was definitely a spitfire, and she was definitely what he'd been missing without even realizing it. His hand moved from cheek to cheek.
"The mother of my children is not to talk like a sailor." His swats began to get a little harder and a little faster. "My wife, the woman I love with all of my heart, is not to wait months before she tells me, her husband, what she needs. When your husband acts like a complete jerk, you are to tell him so immediately, is that clear?"
"Yes! Yes, sir!"
"Good, now do you have anything else you'd like to say to me?"
Her head turned back and he saw that her eyes were shining. "Yes, sir. If you ask me, that spanking was something only a jerk would give. My husband would spank me far harder."
James fought the urge to chuckle and then decided that for this one time, it would be okay, so he did. "You sure that's what you mean?"
"Never surer, sir."
"Well, okay, then. Remember, you asked for it." He chuckled again when she wiggled her beautiful little butt. "Oh, missy, you must have really, really missed having a hot little behind."
"You don't know the half of it," Charity quipped, and then immediately squealed when he tilted her forward and his palm cracked against tender skin that had not felt his hand in months.
If anyone had popped by for a visit, they might not have been surprised to see a smiling man with a squealing, squirming bare-bottomed woman across his knees, but he bet they would be shocked to realize that same woman was giggling between squeals and repeating the words, 'more please'. By the time he pulled her up to sit on his lap, her ass was cherry red.
"Ouch!" she said and gave him a smile. "Thank you, sir."
He could do nothing but shake his head and chuckle. "Who knew that my wife had developed a cast iron hiney?"
Charity laughed again and then shifted on his knees. "Believe me, my hiney is burning and I'm sure I'll be sore tomorrow, but I feel wonderful right now."
James grinned and bent to kiss her. When he pulled away, he patted her backside. "Honey, you might feel wonderful but I promise, by the time I'm done with you, you are going to feel absolutely marvelous." This time when they pulled away from their kiss, he lifted her from his lap and a new voice had him turning to see Hope standing in the doorway, rubbing her eyes.
"Ungry, Pa."
James stood in front of Charity so that she could adjust her clothing as he went to scoop his daughter up into his arms. "Mama will get you something to eat. Pa has work to do."
Hope giggled as he tickled her and then wrapped her arms around her Ma's neck when James passed her to his wife.
He put the chair back inside and put on his coat. After grabbing his rifle, he turned to them. "I'll be back in a bit. Make sure you and the girls stay inside."
"Yes, sir," Charity said, standing on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. "Be careful."
"I will. I've got two wonderful daughters and a very sweet, intelligent wife to come home to," he said, patting her bottom.
"Intelligent enough to not forget your earlier promise," Charity said softly, her hand running down his chest. "I hope you don't, either."
James grinned and said, "Don't fret, I've got the memory of an elephant," he paused and then moved her hand to his groin, "and the trunk as well." He left her with a blush of color on both sets of her cheeks and a smile on her face. A smile he was ashamed to say he hadn't seen in quite some time.
* * * * *
"Wow," Anna said as Wyatt guided the wagon through the street. "I think there are at least three new houses since the last time we came." Everyone agreed. The town of Cascade, named for a portion of the range the settlers had traveled, had been born with the first wagon train, and seemed to be growing with every one since. Wyatt pulled up in front of Franklin's Mercantile and set the brake.
Richard jumped out and reached up to take Johnny from his wife. Wyatt helped the women down.
"Looks like there is a new restaurant as well," Richard said as they stepped onto the sidewalk and he pointed to the words painted on a window. "How about we give Goldman's a try after we've finished shopping?"
"Oh, that sounds wonderful. We haven't eaten in a restaurant since Mabel's!" Anna smiled.
"True, and if there is a need, Mabel's cushion is in the wagon," Richard said with a crooked grin. "And I personally can attest that it is very comfortable and does help with those bumps on the street."
"I thought that was Anna's cushion," Agatha said, looking puzzled when Richard chuckled.
"Well," Anna said, "that's a rather funny story." She gave Agatha and Wyatt a condensed version of how Mabel had insisted she take the cushion after they had eaten in her establishment. "Knowing that she knew my backside was smarting, I was embarrassed at the time, but I gave thanks for her compassion every time that wagon hit a rut."
"How'd she know your—"
Anna cut Agatha off. "That's another story; one I believe we'll save for our next meeting."
"Meeting?"
Anna leaned towards her. "Tick-tock?"
"Oh!" Agatha giggled. "That sounds perfect." It was easy to ignore their men's puzzled looks as Roger joined them after tying his horse's reins to the hitching post.
"It looks crowded in the store. How about I give you my list and I'll head on over to the feed store?"
"If you want," Richard said, reaching for the list. Roger turned to walk away when he bumped into a woman who was walking and digging into her reticule at the same time.
"Pardon me, ma'am."
The woman looked up. "Oh, no, pardon me, I have a tendency not to look where I'm going."
"Perhaps I can escort you. It would be a shame for you to get crushed in the crowds," Roger offered.
The young woman laughed. "That's very kind of you but it appears that I'm already here." Roger tipped his hat and the group watched the woman walk through the doors of the mercantile.
Roger turned and plucked the list from Richard's fingers. "On second thought, it would be rather rude to ask you to do my shopping as well as James's." The others shook their heads as he followed the woman into the store.
"What are the chances she's single?" Wyatt asked.
"What are the chances Roger can successfully woo her?" Richard countered.
Anna added her two cents to the conversation. "The better question is how poor Matthew is going to feel when he is the only one left in that bunkhouse."
Chuckling, they all entered the store. The men went in one direction, towards the hardware section, while the women waited for one of the clerks to approach. When one did, they gave him their lists. He'd gather the foodstuff items and box them up, where they'd wait on the counter while they continued their shopping.
Agatha mentioned that she was running low on soap.
"I've got an idea," Anna said, "how about we get together and spend a day making it? Since it's not a very pleasant job, at least with three of us we can make it a bit less arduous."
