by Lee Savino
“Come here, dear one.” He gathered her into his lap. She leaned on her side to keep her poor bottom from touching anything.
He kissed her temple. “You know I must punish you so you don’t put yourself in danger again.”
She promised him over and over she’d never do it again.
“I know, I know,” he soothed, and rocked her.
Clinging to his shirt, she couldn’t help but feel safe in his arms. True, her bottom was screaming in pain, but she felt she’d deserved her punishment and weathered it.
“Do you forgive me, Miles?” she asked.
“I do, sweet wife.”
“Good. I want to be the best wife I can be for you.”
He kissed her head again, his lips lingering. “I know. You already are.”
She felt confused by his words, and wanted to ask him, but he laid her down in the bed and climbed in after her. Tucked under his chin, with his arm at her waist, she fell asleep.
*****
For the next few days Miles worked long hours in the fields, preparing to move the cattle and horses to their winter pastures. Carrie took over as many duties at the homestead, talking Miles into letting her feed the horses. He made a makeshift wagon she could pull with the grain and hay bales. Her dresses loosened as her body grew lean and strong.
One afternoon, she fed Belle and noticed the mare was chuffing and pawing the ground. Worried, Carrie watched Belle pace, stopping to flick her tail and kick at her abdomen. A milky substance oozed from Belle’s teats.
She was about to foal. Picking up her skirts, Carrie raced west, over the stream and through the thin copse, arriving at the western pasture just in time to remember that Miles had taken them all to the winter pasture. He could be a few miles away with the cattle, riding Monty. On foot, she’d never reach him in time.
A rough whinny broke her thoughts, and she whirled to see Lightning. The big stallion still had a pen to himself while Miles worked on training him.
She approached the white horse’s pen slowly. When the stallion raised his head and sniffed at her, she held out her hands like Miles. “Steady boy, I just need a ride.” The horse nibbled at her fingers, looking for treats, and she bent and pulled up some clover for him. As she fed him, she stroked his beautiful nose. He seemed much calmer now.
“All right, boy,” she said, opening the gate. The horses’ ears twitched forward as she called to him. “Come on. We need to hurry and tell Miles, Belle is about to drop her foal.”
The horse took a step forward, and she beckoned eagerly. Then, with a cry, the stallion rushed the gate. Carrie stepped aside just in time for the big body to avoid knocking her down. She fell down in the muddy grass, arms over her head as Lightning kicked out his back legs.
“Oh no.” She scrambled to her feet as the horse went galloping towards the next hill to the west, and the open plain beyond. She ran after him, lungs burning, but unwilling to let him crest the hill, and drop out of sight.
Just as Lightning reached the top of the hill, a rider appeared from the right, riding hard. Miles leaned over Monty’s sleek body, moving as if he and the horse were one. The bay and stallion disappeared over the crest.
Carrie swallowed her shout and followed. She ran up the hill, just in time to see Miles close the distance to the white horse streaking across the plain. Monty drew abreast with the stallion, and quicker than she could guess, Miles sat up straight in the stirrups, arm waving a lasso high over his head. The rope flew from his hands and settled around Lightning’s neck, and Monty immediately shied to the right, pulling the stallion off his course. Within seconds, horse and rider had slowed to a trot, and Lighting turned obediently back to his pen.
Watching on the hill, Carrie felt like cheering before she remembered what she had done. She turned and ran back to the pen herself, arriving just before the horses.
Miles looked furious, and she gulped, wondering what awful price she’d pay for disobedience.
“Stand back from the gate,” he said in a voice like thunder, and she jumped back with a squeak.
She waited, staring at the ground until two pointed boot toes came into her sights. Miles took her arm and led her over to the stump she remembered from earlier.
“Bend over, hands on the stump.”
She hesitated.
“Now, Carrie.” His voice cracked above her.
She hastened to lean down, resting her palms on the stump.
“Keep your legs straight.”
She did so, locking her knees. In a few seconds her skirts were up and drawers down, and she could feel her bottom waving in the bare air. Her face heated with embarrassment.
“Now, do you remember what I told you about Lightning last time you were here?” His voice seemed deeper with disappointment.
“Yes, sir. You said never to go near his pen without you.”
“I’m glad you remember. So what do I need to do to make sure you heed my words?” His hand started kneading her bottom, readying it.
“Punish me?” She could barely squeak out the words.
“Yes. It’s my responsibility as your husband to make sure you mind. Hold still now.” He took his hand away.
Shifting from foot to foot, she listened to him ready himself. The waiting was the worst part; it made her want to scream.
“I’ll tell you again, Carrie, never go near this pen or any untrained horse without my permission. Maybe this time you’ll hear.”
Before she had time to tense, she felt the slap of leather against her cheeks. Pain sliced across her buttocks and she gasped, lurching forward and almost falling.
Looking back through her fall of hair, she saw the strap hanging from Miles’ hand.
“Up,” he ordered, tapping the underside of her bottom to indicate that she should raise it. “Get into position.”
“Please, Miles, it hurts,” she gasped.
“It’s supposed to. If you won’t heed my words the first time, I’ll make sure you remember them.”
Shaking, she stretched her legs out. Even her punishment from a few days ago hadn’t prepared her for this belting. Last time he must have been holding back.
“Push your bottom up higher.”
Whimpering, she did, until her throbbing cheeks presented a perfect target.
The strap cracked down again and her shriek echoed across the hills. At full force, the strap blazed a trail of pain across her skin and had her wobbling.
“Position.” His voice held no compassion, and he used his palm to smack her bottom when she didn’t move fast enough. “You will never disobey me in this again.” The strap swung in time to the words.
Carrie tried to keep count of his swings, but she could barely remember to hold position. Now all the strikes fell on her hot bottom, another and another until her knees buckled again.
She fell on all fours and scurried around, grasping him around the legs. “Please, please, no more. I can’t take it.”
“Carrie.”
She lay her head against his legs, gripping him harder.
“Look at me.”
To her surprise, she felt him stroke her hair gently, and she risked a look.
“I don’t want to strap you,” he said. “But you could’ve broken your neck. What possessed you to not only come near his pen, but unlatch the gate?”
“I’m sorry. I never would’ve done it if I hadn’t been worried for Belle. She’s acting strangely, and I thought she might be ready to foal.”
A pause, and then she lost her grip on his legs as he went down on one knee in front of her. “You wanted to ride to tell me?”
She nodded. “There was no other horse.”
“And what about my warnings to you? Lightning is still untrained. Even if you could’ve ridden him, what if he had bucked you off?”
“I thought I had to risk it. To help Belle.”
“Look at me.” He shook her gently. “You are worth more than any horse.”
She sniffled. “I’m sorry. I thought yo
u would want to know.”
“Not at the risk of your life.” He pulled her close, drying her tears on his shirt. “We’ll ride back now to see to Belle. Your punishment isn’t over, though.”
He pulled her drawers up and helped her onto Monty. She sat miserably behind him, every jolt and jump on the ride set the stripes on her bottom blazing.
When they reached the homestead, they both went to Belle.
“I understand why you were worried,” he said. “She looks like she’ll foal soon. But, Carrie,” he caught her chin, all serious, “you are never, ever to put your life in danger, not even to save a whole herd. I would rather lose everything I own than lose you.”
She looked up into his intense gaze, unable to speak.
“All right, off with you. Up to the cabin, undress and stand in the corner, nose to the wall. I’ll be in as soon as I see to Belle.”
“But—”
“Go,” he ordered, no tenderness in him now.
“Yes, sir,” she said in a small voice, and picked up her skirts to run up the hill.
It felt like an hour with her nose to the wall before she heard Miles’ boots thump on the porch. Straightening, she held her breath, keeping her eyes fixed on the corner as she heard him bring a chair to the center of the room.
“Carrie, come here.”
She went to stand in front him, naked and head bowed.
“Belle is fine. But even if she hadn’t been, I still would’ve wanted you to obey me.”
Nodding, she folded her arms behind her back to keep them from touching her throbbing bum.
“Turn around.” His fingers traced the strap marks, making her shiver. “I know these marks hurt. They won’t last, though, and the lesson will.”
“I’m so sorry, sir.”
“I know you are. You understand why I must discipline you?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Into position then.” He stood and guided her to lean over the chair. “Four more, with the strap.” He touched the leather to her backside and she tensed. “I know you can do it, Carrie girl.”
She gripped the chair until she thought it would break, but made it through each strike. When it was done, she collapsed into the chair, leaning on her knees with her poor bottom in the air. Miles left her there a moment, then returned with a balm. She whimpered as he applied it to her bottom.
“Does it sting?”
“Yes, sir. But not as much as it used to.”
“Enough for you to learn your lesson?”
“Yes, sir. I’m so sorry.”
“You’re forgiven.” Miles sat down, and drew her into his lap. “Never, never do that again.”
She stared into his eyes, shocked by the vulnerable fear in his voice.
“I won’t, Miles. I promise.”
“You’re too precious, my sweet.” He stroked back her hair and then secured her chin. “You do this again, and you get the whip. Do you understand?”
She nodded, too afraid to speak. For a moment he just held her, rocking a little. Her bottom throbbed in time with her heartbeat, but the burn was bearable. A sense of calm stole over her as she sat in her husband’s arms.
“Miles, do you like punishing me?”
“I don’t like causing you pain, but I like being the one to lead you.” He grinned. “Though I must say, the sight of your pink cheeks presented to me is the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen. Don’t be surprised if I turn you over my knee for a nice warm up before our love making.”
Carrie felt her face turned red as her bum. “Spankings can’t be nice.”
“Are you calling me a liar?”
“No, sir,” she said quickly.
He chuckled.
“Bed time. No dinner for you.”
She sighed. “Yes, sir.”
*****
The next day, Carrie made sure she did all her chores standing. Her bottom still throbbed, although it no longer glowed; she used Miles’ shaving mirror to peek at it.
In addition to the lingering soreness, she spent the day facing a different trial. Her body ached for her husband. She didn’t understand how it could endure such punishment and still desire the one who meted it out, but as she completed her chores, she found herself turning with longing to the door, wishing he’d come home early and love her. There was a desire in her to please him, stronger than ever, and her ears tuned carefully to footsteps on the porch that would signal his homecoming.
Around noon, she heard a familiar footstep, and when Miles did not enter right away, she set down her sewing and rushed to greet him.
The smile died on her face when she saw the three men, bearded and dirty, waiting just off the porch.
“Please, ma’am,” one said, removing his ragged hat. “Could you spare some food tonight?”
She shrank back into the house, her gaze darting into the larder. A distant shout saved her.
“Miles,” she called out, relieved. Her husband rode Monty right up the hill, dismounting and leaping on the porch in one movement.
“Afternoon,” he said, deep voice radiating authority. He held out an arm and she ran to his side. “Go get my Henry and bring it to me,” he whispered to her.
She looked up at him in confusion.
“The rifle,” he said. “Go.”
“What brings you to these parts?” Miles was asking when Carrie returned with the long rifle.
The visiting trio took a step back.
“We’ve come to mine in Royal Gorge.” The older man pointed to the range behind them.
“You’re a long way from Royal Gorge,” Miles observed. He didn’t frown or sound angry but something in the set of his broad shoulders and stance indicated displeasure.
“Got lost.” One of the young men shrugged, keeping his eye on Miles’ rifle.
“You can sleep in the stable tonight. And we’ll bring dinner to you—you can eat your fill. All I ask is a half day’s labor mending fences.”
The two younger scowled, but the old man replaced his hat and touched it in respect. “Yes, sir, thank you, sir.”
Miles directed them down the hill towards the western field. He waited until they were beyond the copse before turning to Carrie. “When dinner’s ready, bring it to the far pasture. I’ll put them up in the shed there.”
“What about Lightning?”
“He and Monty can stay near the porch. If anyone approaches, we’ll hear.”
Carrie’s eyes widened.
“Don’t worry, little wife. The older man seems trustworthy. He’ll keep the other two in check.” He pushed her into the cabin. “Latch this door, and don’t open it for anyone but me. And make six extra helpings of stew.”
“Six? We don’t have enough for all that.”
He grinned. “Then make plenty of biscuits.”
*****
She brought the dinner out to them in the far pasture, grateful that she had a stew pot big enough for all.
The two young men didn’t look at her, but the older one shot her a smile. “Thank ye, Mrs. Donovan.”
“You’re welcome,” she said. Miles didn’t speak, but she scuttled to his side, grateful for his strong presence. He was sitting on the old stump and made room for her, and she sat down gingerly on her tender cheeks.
The older man’s eyes roved around as he chewed. “You own the claim round these parts?”
“I do.”
“It’s a nice spot. There’s gold in Royal Gorge, sure as shootin’. I’m surprised you’re not panning for it in your river.” The old man grinned.
“I have no interest in searching for gold.”
The man snorted, and his two companions exchanged glances.
“Ranching then?”
“And training horses.”
“Really?” One of the younger men perked up. “How much would you get for sellin’ that one?” The man pointed to Lightning, grazing in his pen.
“He’s not for sale.”
The young man reddened and started to rise, but the o
lder man stopped him with an outstretched arm.
“Calm down, Benny. A man has a right to sell a horse to whoever he chooses.”
Grunting, the young man reached for another biscuit.
The men ate every drop of stew and used the biscuits to scrape the pot. Miles frowned at the tiny portion Carrie had reserved for herself, but she couldn’t bring herself to eat more, even after going hungry last night.
They rode home on Monty, leading Lightning behind.
“Well that was a good day. Fences all mended.”
“Where are you going?” she asked when he picked up a blanket and a chair and carried them to the front porch.
“Gonna sit on the porch for a while,” he said. “Make sure our friends have a good night’s sleep.”
*****
Carrie woke in the darkness with someone shaking her. She started to scream and then a hand went over her mouth.
“Carrie, it’s me.”
“Miles? What’s happening?”
“You were calling out in your sleep.” She felt the bed shift under his weight as he sat beside her. His hand came to stroke back her hair. “Do you remember your dream?”
“No,” she said, but she felt clammy and sick, still in the clutches of some night terror.
“Sleep then. It’s many hours to dawn.”
“What about the miners? Did they come to rob and kill us?”
His hand stilled, then cupped her cheek. “No, dear Carrie, and I’m sorry if I put that notion into your head.”
“It seems everything out here is dangerous,” she murmured sleepily.
He lay down and his strong arms closed around her. “I’ll protect you.”
*****
She woke again and made a huge pile of biscuits for Miles to take to their guests. After a kiss, he left, and the rest of the day had her jumping at shadows. Just after noon she heard a heavy step on the porch and rushed to the bed to grab the gun.
Miles walked into the cabin and stopped short when he saw the barrel of his own gun leveled at him.
“Carrie? What are you doing?”
“Sorry,” she said, lowering the shotgun.
