by Starla Kaye
She stiffened her spine. “I had my animals to keep company. Taos and Keno would have been frightened traveling all that way alone.” She petted the skunk. “But Morgan here doesn’t like to be shut in. He gets a bit testy. They needed me.”
Taos had blinked several times but remained silent. He was used to—didn’t necessarily approve of—her little shenanigans, or so he called such things as this. Morgan, however, appeared to be grinding his teeth to pulp. That reaction enormously pleased her.
“I need a drink,” he finally growled. “A whole damn bottle. I’ll see you back at the ranch tomorrow.”
He walked toward a big bay at the hitching rail and grabbed up the reins. “I’m staying in town tonight. Doing some thinking.”
She smiled, until Taos moved in her direction. The evening ahead wouldn’t be the warm homecoming she’d hoped for. Well, it might be “warm”…for her. Darn it all!
Chapter Three
Whiskey pulled aside the lace curtain covering the window of her upstairs bedroom. The sun had climbed half-way up and there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. Familiar with Kansas summers, she knew it would be hotter than blazes today. There wasn’t even a trickle of a breeze coming in the open window. Soon it would be miserable up here. Well, actually, she was miserable already. She was more than frustrated with her stupid brothers and with that big, gruff lawman. She was beyond irritated with the ranch situation. And she chose to ignore even thinking about her misery surrounding the “marriage” notion for now.
As she caught sight of Taos talking to a couple of the ranch hands near the corral, she stepped away from the window. Automatically, she reached back to rub her still very tender bottom beneath the long dressing gown. She’d slept naked on top of the sheets, only donning the gown when she’d gotten out of bed a few minutes ago. The mere touch of even the soft fabric against her much abused bottom had been too much to bear last night.
She scowled through the thin curtain at him. First that rotten scoundrel with a badge—a man she barely knew—had spanked her on the Opera House’s rooftop. Then Taos had burned her ears all the way back to the ranch as they rode side-by-side in the rented wagon. A miserable ride that had been, too, on a recently spanked backside. It had been like getting spanked all over again. As soon as they’d taken care of her animals, he’d taken care of her—his words, not hers. Her thoroughly upset oldest brother had burned her bottom with that blasted razor strop—that he rarely used, thank God—kept in the pantry. “She’d been reckless with her life…She’d nearly scared him too death…She’d deliberately misled her brothers about her mode of transportation.” Those were just a few of the endless stream of reasons he’d given for punishing her.
With one final rub and a wince, she glanced toward her britches hanging over the back of the chair near the window. No, not today.
She sighed in annoyance. The only choice of clothing for today was one of the dresses in her wardrobe. Tighter britches wouldn’t be comfortable for a few days. Not after Morgan’s sound spanking, followed by Taos’ firm stropping, and finally followed by Keno’s blistering paddling on top of that. Men! Every darn man in her life seemed to think they needed to take her over their knee and wallop the blazes out of her poor bottom to make her see their viewpoint, to make her see the “error of her ways,” or for whatever other dumb reason. Thank goodness she only had two pigheaded brothers!
Opening her wardrobe, she pulled out a black skirt and a white blouse. She tossed them on the bed, tugged off the nightdress, and put on a white cotton chemise and gingerly slipped on an underskirt. Wincing at its brush against her tender backside, she knew her decision about not putting on pantaloons was right. Maybe not proper, but something she could live with for now.
Ten minutes later she headed down the stairs, intending to go to the barn and feed her animals. Each step down made her flinch. Each flinch made her more disgusted with those rotten men. She started to mumble some less than kind words under her breath when she froze, aware she wasn’t alone.
“Sleeping in kind of late, aren’t you?” Morgan taunted as he walked from the kitchen and spotted her. His expression held one of disapproval. “Don’t you have chores to do?”
“I’ll get them done. Not that it’s any of your concern.” She stopped on the last step. She really hadn’t wanted to see him today…actually ever again.
He nodded at her attire. “Glad to see you dressing properly today. Like a lady.”
“Only good choice I could make for today. Thanks to…” She wished she’d held her tongue.
“Suppose that’s true enough.” A tiny spark of amusement flitted through his eyes before it quickly disappeared. “Reckon you had a rough night sleeping. Heard both of your brothers wore your bottom out. You deserved it.” He turned back toward the kitchen.
Her face flamed at his knowing about her additional punishments.
Annoyed, she marched after him. “I most certainly did not deserve any of what was done to me. I had my reasons for…”
He stopped to face her and she nearly plowed right into him. “I don’t really think you want to be sassy today. Considering some of us are still pretty damn unhappy with you.”
She sucked in a breath at the fury that flashed now in his eyes instead of amusement. But she was “unhappy,” too.
“What about my feelings? What about my being unhappy with you, with Taos and Keno? Did any of you listen to my side? No.” She stretched up on tiptoe to glare at him. “No! Each of you was completely blind to listening to me. You bellowed your anger and then whaled away on my backside.”
He lowered his head until they were nearly nose-to-nose. “No way on God’s green earth could you have a good enough reason for risking your life like that. No way.”
“I knew what I was doing.” Well, most of the time she had.
His gaze narrowed and she witnessed the dangerous gleam in his eye that Taos had warned he got before the big marshal turned deadly. She eased back, not wanting to be too close in case he decided to grab her and spank her again.
He followed her. “You intended to crash on top of the opera house? You knew for certain that the basket wouldn’t tip over backward and fall to the street?”
He breathed right down into her face. “You knew for damn certain you wouldn’t break your scrawny neck?”
“Well…” Dang it all, here he was looking meaner than a wounded bear and her foolish heart was beating itself near crazy. She tingled from head to foot in awareness of how much of a man he was.
His eyes darkened. His nostrils flared. Now it was he who stepped back, and it didn’t seem that he was thinking about warming her backside. No, he looked dangerous in a whole other way.
He held himself still and snarled, “Enough. I don’t want to think about any of that again. Best you keep out of my reach for a while.”
Glad to have space between them and wanting even more, she darted around him and snatched one of the leftover biscuits on the table by the window. She had gone to bed with a very sore bottom and an empty stomach. She was starving.
After a quick bite she asked in irritation, “Have you moved into the house?” She hated the shivers of interest in him still running through her.
He moved all too close to her again, like he just couldn’t keep his distance, and snagged a biscuit, too. “Not yet. I’m still sleeping in the bunkhouse with the hands.”
He took a large bite and she watched him chew, fascinated by the movement of his square jaw, intrigued by the small cleft in his chin. She wanted to touch that cleft. She wanted to touch his beard stubble. And all of that was just plain nuts!
“I have the right, since I own most of the place now.” He wiped away the crumbs with his shirt sleeve.
She bristled and her chest puffed out in fury. “I’m still so mad about that I could spit nails. My brothers had no right—”
“They had every right to sell out to me. Before long your sister will sell out as well.” He stretched at a kink in his back. “Soon
as we get married I’ll be moving in here, sleeping better.”
The biscuit in her hand crumbled and it fell to the floor. Her heart raced. Moving in here. Sleeping better. Sleeping with her. She felt hot all over at the thought. She pulled her anger closer and snapped, “We are not getting married. I repeat, not getting married.”
“Wrong,” Taos stated in his annoying no-nonsense tone as he walked into the room behind Morgan. “You’ve got one month to arrange all the wedding plans and such that need arranging. One month.”
Morgan moved aside to allow her brother to join them in the rapidly shrinking kitchen. The two men were big and if she were more like her friend Camelia Sanderson, she’d be cowering from their size and their intimidating expressions.
But she wasn’t like Camelia. She thrust her chin up in the air. “You can’t make me marry him.”
“What the hell’s wrong with me?” Morgan questioned, sounding affronted. “I’d make you a damn fine husband.”
She rolled her eyes and shook her head. Her waist-length braid swept back and forth on her back. “Maybe for some woman not minding that every jackal wanting to make a name for himself would come around gunning for her husband. For some woman pea-brained enough to bow down to the idiotic whims of her brothers.”
Taos’ face turned red and she knew she was seriously pushing him. Before he could lay into her, she said, “I’m tired of worrying myself near to death every time Taos leaves the ranch for another round of working as a U.S. Marshal. I’ve cried all the tears I ever want to over a man I loved wearing a badge.”
She swallowed hard as tears threatened. “And I can take care of myself just like Aunt Mae. Nope, I’m never getting hitched, especially to a lawman.”
All the huffiness appeared to go out of Taos at her reminding him of how she worried over him. “Our father has spent years worrying over his sister and her refusing to get married. I—and Keno—don’t intend to keep on fretting about you going through life alone.”
He drew in a breath. “In spite of what you think, you need someone to take care of you. Someone to share all of that passion inside you with. Someone to keep you out of trouble.”
Whiskey saw the way Morgan’s eyes had widened at the mention of “passion.” That heat building within her grew hotter as well. Which thoroughly irritated her.
“Don’t be getting any ideas, Marshal Rydell. My brother is talking about my fondness for animals, my tendency to dote on them. And now I’ve got this passion inside me for wanting to be a doctor to them.”
She again raised her chin and looked from one man to another. “It’s something which I fully intend to do. And I intend to start with tending to the needs of the stock on this ranch.”
“We raise cattle here,” Taos said with a frown. “Animals who easily outweigh you by seven hundred or more pounds.”
“And I’m planning to start breeding horses here,” Morgan added with a scowl.
She shrugged. “I know how to doctor them both. Aunt Mae taught me. And I know how to be careful around them.”
Morgan faced Taos and snapped, “This aunt of yours sure causes a lot of problems.”
Taos nodded. “So our father has always said. Clearly she’s been a bad influence on our Whiskey during her year-long stay with her.”
She blew out a deep breath of frustration and stormed toward the back door. “I’m not going to stand here and argue with you two. My mind is made up on both things.”
Hesitating at the door, she looked back in Morgan’s direction. “I’m not marrying you.” Then she focused on Taos. “And I’m going to doctor animals, including the cattle and horses on this ranch.”
She sped out the door and left the two men to fume, snarl protests, and curse her stubborn streak to hell and back. It didn’t bother her a bit. She’d heard it all before.
* * *
Morgan had commiserated with Taos for nearly an hour about what a handful of trouble his sister was. This time Taos never once mentioned how “sweet” she was, how “lovable” she could be. Before this latest incident, both had been traits that he’d talked on and on about to him. Yet as aggravating as she’d been, Morgan felt a twinge of respect for her. It took powerful gall to stand up to her stern-faced brother…and to him. A bit of craziness, too. Still, he admired her spunk. It didn’t mean he would stand for her doctoring critters that outweighed her by so damn much. No sir. As soon as they were married, he fully intended on bringing her around to his way of thinking.
He shoved away from the table he’d been leaning on while they talked. “I’d been figuring on getting married in a couple of weeks, but I reckon a month is all right, too.” He planted his hat on his head and asked uncertainly, “Suppose I should court her? I’m not much good at that business.” Fact was he’d never actually courted a woman. Not even Sarah.
“It’s up to you. I imagine that a little romancing might make getting her to march down the church aisle easier.”
Taos glanced out the window toward the corral where Whiskey was brushing the camel with a horse brush. “That damn beast tried to eat my hat yesterday. It smell’s something awful, too.”
“The one-eyed mule of hers is pretty rank as well.” Morgan chuckled, something he didn’t do a lot of. “Stubborn mule is named after you. Fitting.” He chuckled again.
Taos looked surprised at the rare sound coming from him. Then he grinned. “So what does a skunk being named after you mean?”
“It means your sister has got a wicked sense of humor. Along with that mile-wide stubborn streak all you Wakefields have.”
He looked across the ranch yard, too, and watched her reach up a hand to gently stroke the camel’s neck. Such a small hand, a delicate hand. Her touch would be soft, soothing. A shot of yearning tore through him, surprising him, unnerving him. He’d felt a taste of it when they had stood nose-to-nose earlier. Her scent had drawn him. Her fire as well. He’d wanted to reach out and touch her cheek. He’d wanted to…
Drawing in a sharp breath, he went to the door. “I’m going into town. There are some supplies I want to pick up. Probably will stop in at the Dusty Trails, too, and see Keno for a spell.” He’d draw out his time in town as long as possible.
“Hold on. I’ll ride in with you.” Taos followed him out the door. “I want to check on an empty building on Front Street I spotted the other day. It might make a good office for my law practice.”
They walked quietly across the ranch yard and then Taos stopped next to the corral. Morgan stopped as well, curious about the expression on Taos’ face.
A second later as Whiskey glanced in their direction, Taos said, “We’re going into Dodge. You need anything from the general store?”
She shook her head and patted the camel’s side.
“I’m going to check on a place for my law office.” He turned toward the barn and the corral with their horses behind it. “I think I’ll stop in to see Reverend Chester. Maybe set a date for the wedding with him.”
Morgan’s steps faltered at that. Before he could say anything, though, she yelled out, “I told you I wasn’t getting married.”
He didn’t know where he got the crazy notion, but he suddenly blurted out loud enough for her to hear, “I suppose we should find a dressmaker, too. Arrange to have a right nice dress made for the wedding.”
She marched over to the fence and yelled, “I don’t want a nice dress. I don’t want any kind of dress, especially not for a wedding that is not going to happen.” She sounded so furious that he found himself smiling for the first time in…well, in a hell of a long time.
She stomped her foot in outrage.
He tipped up his hat brim and let her see him raise an eyebrow. “Temper, temper.”
Her pretty face flamed and he knew she remembered the feel of his hard hand on her bottom. Good. “You’re not wearing britches for our wedding. I’ll tell the dressmaker that you’ll be in to see her soon.”
“Are you deaf, Marshal? I’ve said repeatedly that I will not
marry you.”
Tired of the little verbal battle, he turned away and caught up with Taos. They hadn’t gone a half dozen feet before she called out, “I assume a couple of the men are going to bring my balloon back from town today, like you promised.”
He shifted to glower back at her, about to speak when Taos beat him to it.
“There’s no sense pulling any of the men away from their chores. We’re taking in the wagon anyway to get some supplies.” Taos looked at him. “We’ll bring it back.”
The smile she flashed hit Morgan right in his gut. Any protest he would’ve made was swallowed up by the sharp wave of lust that nearly took him to his knees.
Well, shit.
* * *
By noon the day was sweltering hot and Whiskey wished she could strip down to nothing, wished she could go skinny-dipping in the nearby river like she’d done a few times as a child. Instead she had to be satisfied with leaning against a Cottonwood along the riverbank trying to absorb the coolness of the shade. She tugged up the long skirt and petticoat enough that the meager breeze teased her legs. Still, even as hot it was, she was happy to be home. She missed Aunt Mae, but she’d also missed the ranch a great deal.
Her gaze took in the miles of land that the Wakefield Ranch encompassed. Good land. Acres and acres of rolling grass land, a fair chunk of river running along the west side, strong, solid buildings built with only a small portion of their father’s wealth. Yes, this was a ranch to be proud of.
Then she thought of Morgan, God’s most pigheaded man ever.
She pursed her lips in disgust. She only owned a fourth of the property. He owned half. And Brandy still owned a fourth, but her brothers—and Morgan—were certain she would send a wire any day now saying she’d sell her shares to Morgan as well. The idea of her twin sister going against her hurt. Twins should stick together. Twins should know how each other felt. But that had never been fully true with them. In so many ways they were complete opposites. She just didn’t know what Brandy would decide in this instance, and, in truth, her brothers couldn’t know either. None of them had seen their sister in over two years.
