A Path Worth Taking

by Mariella Starr

  Marie laughed. “I did not want to get away. If I left my life with Pierre and my Arapaho family, I would not fit into the white man’s world. My Pierre is a trapper. We can fit into a white man’s mold of what they would want us to be, but I don’t believe we would be happy. We have a good life together. I cannot imagine living among the noise and the smells of what white men call civilization, although my Pierre claims the time is coming quicker than either of us wants.”

  “Beth!” Garret’s voice was loud and stern as he burst into the cabin gripping his rifle.

  She jumped up to her feet. “Garret! This is Marie Chardon. Her husband is French Canadian and a trapper.”

  Garret’s eyes jumped from Beth to the squaw.

  “You have no need to fear me,” Marie said calmly. “I was explaining to your wife how the Arapaho took me in as a child when the people on our wagon train tossed me aside not caring if I lived or died. I have a special place in my heart for my people.”

  “Your white family?” Garret questioned.

  “No, my Arapaho people,” Marie corrected him. “I only have vague memories of my birth family. I came to speak to your wife, Mr. Wakefield, and I mean you no harm.”

  “What do you want?” Garret demanded.

  “Your wife is an educated woman,” Marie said. “We have seen her teaching your boy from books. I speak the languages of several peoples. I speak Heenetiit the language of my Arapaho people. Because I have spent time at the missions and Pierre and I have traveled following the pelt trade, I also speak Spanish, French, and English. I have a gift with sound and speech, yet I cannot read. I wish to learn so I can teach my children.”

  “Oh,” Beth exclaimed. “I could teach you and your children, Marie.”

  “Beth!” Garret growled.

  “I do not expect you to do this as a kindness,” Marie said. “We will pay you in beaver hides at the end of the summer. Name the amount you wish.”

  “None,” Garret said setting his rifle aside. “I do have some questions, though.”

  “Ask them,” Marie said.

  “Are there any renegade bands of Arapaho in the area?”

  “None that I am aware of,” Marie said. “Black Crow comes to visit from time to time. He does not bring attention to himself. There are too many soldiers in the area to fight this close to Ft. Morgan.”

  “If Beth agrees, she can teach you to read. You can come when it is convenient and bring your husband. I would like to meet him.”

  The woman looked at Beth for confirmation.

  Beth had been following the exchange, and she jumped. “Oh, of course, I will be happy to teach you.”

  Marie stood, gathered her things, and nodded. “I will see you another day.”

  Beth and Garret followed Marie outside watching as she mounted her house. They waved to her as she rode away. Beth knew there were no Indian Princesses, although if any woman could be considered regal, Beth was sure it was Marie Chardon.

  “I met my first Indian,” Beth exclaimed.

  “You are coming with me,” Garret said taking her hand in a firm grip.

  “Why?”

  Garret looked pointedly over his shoulder at the Spenser rifle still hanging above the fireplace and then at the basket of wet clothing still sitting on the floor.

  “You’re damn lucky she was a friendly Indian. Didn’t I tell you never go to the creek without a loaded rifle?”

  Beth realized Garret was furious. “Marie was harmless, and she isn’t an Indian, she’s a white woman.”

  “She’s been raised by them. She dresses like them, and freely admits she considers them family,” Garret snapped. “She has gone savage.”

  Beth pulled her hand away and stepped back. “What was she supposed to do? Die? It was the white people on the wagon train who left her and her sick family behind. She’s not a savage. She’s probably smarter than we are. She hasn’t had the opportunity to learn to read or write, still, unlike most men, she’s not too proud to ask someone to help her. You’re being terribly unfair!”

  “Beth, how many times have I told you to keep the rifle close by you? You could have been killed! What if it had been a renegade band of warriors? They could have captured and done God knows what to you.”

  “I realize I should be more careful and I will,” Beth promised.

  “You’re damn right you will,” Garret said stepping forward.

  Beth stepped away from him scampering around to the other side of the table.

  “Don’t run from me!”

  “I’m not running,” Beth exclaimed. She swallowed and tilted her chin upward in defiance. “I won’t be a beaten wife.”

  “I haven’t beaten you,” Garret exclaimed. “I spanked your bottom. Warming your backside is not beating you!”

  “Whatever you call it!” Beth exclaimed. “I won’t stand for it!”

  “You don’t have any say in it,” Garret exclaimed capturing Beth, and bending her over the table and holding her there. “Bethany St. Claire Wakefield, you will not tell me what you will or will not do. You will do as I tell you. If I want to fire up your ass, I fully intend to do it.”

  “No!” Beth yelled angrily.

  Garret raised her skirts and smacked her across the buttocks hard.

  “Oh!” Beth wailed realizing she had woefully miscalculated how to handle her husband. The first spank was a stinger and the second one hurt like the dickens.

  “Oh!” she glanced over her shoulder and saw the next one coming as Garret raised her large wooden spoon in his hand and whacked her across her bottom.

  “Garret stop, please!” she cried as another stinging whack from the spoon landed and a burning sensation spread across her buttocks. She knew she had crossed a line of some kind with her man. Beth was dancing as he applied the wooden spoon firmly to her backside. Spank after spank landed on her bottom.

  Garret was angry with Beth because she seemed to be getting in the habit of disobeying him and he would not have it. They were living on the frontier, and she needed to learn she was never totally safe. No one was as long as there were marauding Indians, mountain men, and wild animals. Women were scarce in the west, and he needed to impress on her how much her safety was at risk. He also was not a man to take ultimatums from his wife, and he would teach her a lesson. If he had to turn her bottom beet red every day to get the lesson across, he would do it.

  He peppered her backside until it was covered with little red sting marks and then applied harder whacks to her bottom. She was sobbing and he decided she had been punished enough. He marched her into their little bedroom giving her another smack across her already tender rear end. “If you behave like a naughty child, Beth, I will treat you like one. Stay in here until I tell you otherwise!”

  Chapter Five

  Beth cried until she couldn’t cry any longer. She was exhausted but she dared not leave the little room even though she was pretty sure Garret had forgotten about her.

  She was shocked at his behavior, although she had no idea what to do about it. Regardless of the circumstances under which they had married, they were married, and marriage was forever. Nevertheless, she had no desire to spend the rest of her life being spanked!

  She jumped out of the bed when she heard heavy footsteps coming in her direction.

  Garret shook his head at the sight of his wife’s tear-streaked cheeks. He had never expected Beth to be rebellious. He had to convince her, he only wanted what was best for her. He walked across the room, pulled up her skirt, and pulled down her bloomers. Only a few red spots remained on her behind. The physical effects of the spanking had already disappeared. He turned her around to face him.

  “Beth, we have to come to an understanding.”

  She nodded her eyes filling with tears. Still, she looked away rather than face him.

  “Come into the cabin,” Garret said walking away. Out of his peripheral vision, he saw her fumbling with the skirt and petticoats and pulling up her bloomers.

  “
Sit down,” Garret ordered when she came out of the bedroom.

  Beth regarded the hard seat of the chair and hesitated before sitting down gingerly and making a face.

  “Honey, I don’t enjoy setting your bottom on fire,” Garret began.

  “Then why are you doing it?” she cried starting to sob again.

  Garret hauled her out of the chair and into his lap. She wailed even louder.

  “Listen to me Beth. We aren’t living back east or anywhere close to a civilized area like where you were raised. We are in the Territory of Colorado. This land hasn’t been tamed, and neither have most of the people who have settled here. An Indian War is going on with so many different tribes, the Army doesn’t know who it’s fighting half the time. When I was a scout, I had to kill men to protect others on wagon trains. It doesn’t matter whether they were Indian or white. I still had to kill, which will be on my conscience for the rest of my life. There are dangerous men out here, I need you to keep a rifle with you at all times for your protection.

  “Do you even know what a band of renegades would do to you if they caught you out by yourself or kidnapped you?”

  She shook her head no.

  “Any other time, I wouldn’t speak of such things in front of my wife. However, you have to realize I didn’t teach you how to shoot the rifle for the fun of it. If men took you, either savage or white, you would be passed around from man to man and used because you are a woman. If someone comes after you, I want you to shoot to kill. I would rather you kill a man, then have him use you. Honey, this is why when I tell you to do something, I expect you to obey me, same as I would Jasper. I’m asking you to do these things for your own good.”

  Beth laid her head on his shoulder and cried. “I won’t forget, again.”

  “That’s all I want,” Garret said patting her on the shoulder ineffectually. “I want you to be a good wife.”

  “I don’t want to be spanked!” Beth cried.

  “Well, honey, the best solution is for you to listen and obey. If I figure you need it, I will put you across my knee since it’s my job as your husband to set you straight. You’re my wife, Beth, and I will keep a close eye on you. I don’t want you hurt, but I won’t pamper you either. That little dusting of your backside wasn’t bad enough for you to be causing such a ruckus. I’m thinking your daddy didn’t do you or your brother any favors by spoiling you. I’m not making the same mistake.

  “I’m not a man you can cross or deny. You remember this, gal, and we’ll get along fine. Now, you need to start supper and do something with those wet clothes.”

  Beth nodded and went about her chores. She hung the wet clothes over bushes keeping the rifle within reaching distance. She returned to the kitchen and made a Shepherd’s Pie, something Lettie had taught her years ago.

  Was she spoiled? She knew she had been spoiled in the past, yet she believed she was different now. She looked around the little room, which at the moment seemed to be her entire world. The cabin was barely large enough to hold a cook stove, a small table with three chairs, one comfortable chair, and the few odds and ends she had brought in from the barn. The cabin including the lean-to they used as their bedroom was smaller than the foyer in the house where she had been raised.

  She had gone from a spacious house of ten rooms to living in the tunnels and then a cabin smaller than the one she was living in now. At the time, she had been grateful to have even the tunnels, although living in the damp underground was uncomfortable. Only through the kindness of fates had an old cabin survived when their house and barn were burned to the ground. That’s where she was living when Nate had finally come home.

  The wagon she had traveled in with her brother had been only a bit smaller than the cabin, although far more uncomfortable. She had slept inside while Nate slept under it until he had fallen ill.

  Beth suddenly burst into tears. She sat down in one of the kitchen chairs and then shot back to her feet because her bottom really was sore, and then she sat down more gingerly and cried some more. She covered her face with the flour sack she used for a dishtowel and sobbed.

  Something broke loose inside, and she cried for all her losses. She cried for her poor papa and her brother, both victims of the war. She cried for Jacob and Lettie. Sweet, wonderful Lettie, and she did not even know what had happened to her friend. She cried for all she had lost due to the war and all she had lost since. She cried for her changing circumstances, and she cried because she was a foolish girl. Having lost so much, through the grace of God she had survived. She looked around the cabin and cried because she had not given thanks for what she been gifted.

  Garret finished his work with Jasper, and they went to the cabin for dinner. Both of them stopped in the doorway as they witnessed Beth sobbing into a towel. Garret saw the meat pie on the stove and, ignoring his wife, he cut the pie and dumped half of it into a large bowl and handed it to Jasper.

  “Steer clear for a while,” Garret advised the boy as the youngster took the food, snagged a spoon, and backed out the door.

  “I’ll see you in the morning,” Jasper declared hightailing it to his place in the loft. Whatever was wrong with Mrs. Wakefield, he hoped Garret would figure it out, ‘cause he sure did not know what to do with a crying woman. Meanwhile, it got him out of doing lessons in those danged schoolbooks she had found.

  Garret closed the door and went to his wife.

  “Beth, honey? What’s wrong?”

  She wrapped her arms around him and buried her face in his chest, wailing and sniffling so much he could barely understand a word she was saying.

  “Honey?”

  “I’m sorry,” Beth wailed. “I’m sorry, Garret. I’m so, so sorry!”

  “Whoa there, darling,” Garret said tightening his arms around her. He sat down and pulled her into his lap. “Honey, you need to calm down. Nothing is so bad that it won’t get better.”

  Beth continued to wail and cry so hard he could make no sense of what she was saying.

  Frustrated, he stood up, swept his wife into his arms, and carried her to the bed. He wrapped his arms around her tightly as she still wept. Without a clue of how to stop the broken dam, he lowered his mouth to hers and kissed her. She responded when he touched her, kissing him back. He rolled over onto her and his hand went under her skirt and petticoats. He found the slit in her bloomers and thrust his fingers into her. Beth gasped, and suddenly they were flinging off their clothing anxious to get to each other's body.

  Garret rolled on top of Beth and slid into her with one deep thrust. She shifted slightly as he moved her legs higher on his body and hung one leg over each of his shoulders. With her partially lifted off the bed, he was able to penetrate deeper. He watched Beth’s face as she began to climb with a building orgasm. When it claimed her, he covered her gasps and cries with his mouth and tongue.

  Once was not enough for either of them. They were frantically in need of each other, and there was no restraint in either one of them. This was a new level to lovemaking, a new kind of intimacy where they needed to surrender control to the other.

  He rolled her over onto her knees and placed her hands on the headboard. From the position he had put her in, she expected him to take her from behind, and she was right. He entered her, stroking in and out, thrusting deeper and harder. He was hammering into her hard as she gasped and panted with new sensations being perpetrated on her body. This was a different kind of pleasure, one she had never experienced before, wilder and more animalistic. This invasion of her body was beyond stimulating. When Garret put his hand under her and began playing with the little part of her that always made her feel so good, she went wild.

  Bucking with pleasure, Beth felt an orgasm grip her. Garret felt it coming too, and he pulled out, flipped her over to her back, and thrust into her again. He needed to see her face. He had become a stallion crazed with the mating ritual. When Beth’s sex tightened around him in an orgasm, he exploded. Time seemed to slow as they lived only for those few moment
s of exquisite pleasure, which never lasted long enough. For those few seconds, though, they were imprisoned in each other’s body.

  “My God,” Garret groaned as he collapsed beside Beth. He held her to him, skin to skin, chest to breast as he buried his face in her hair. They continued to hold each other, gasping for breath and waiting for their heartbeats to calm. Neither of them spoke as they held on while the last of the tremors left their bodies.

  Garret was the one to break the silence. “Beth, are you all right?”

  Beth nodded yes and buried her face into the damp curls of hair on his chest.

  Garret was still breathing heavily as Beth tried to burrow into him. “Beth, can you tell me why you were crying and so upset?”

  “Humm…” She opened her eyes slowly and snuggled into his body more.

  “Honey,” Garret was not up to another go round. It would be a while before he was capable of performing. “Not that I’m complaining, but what was this about, sweetheart?”

  Beth sighed deeply and hugged him to her again. Suddenly, she sat up in bed as if what they had experienced was an ordinary day-to-day event. “It was about growing up.”

  “I don’t understand,” Garret replied punching their pillows against the headboard, sitting up, and pulling her next to him.

  Beth snuggled into him. “I don’t expect you would, Garret because you are not a woman.”

  “No, I’m not, but I need to know what made you so unhappy.”

  “I’m not unhappy,” Beth denied. “In fact, I am the opposite. You said we had to come to an understanding and I did. I love you.”

  Garret blinked, confused by her words. “Considering that we are married, isn’t that a good thing?”

  She laughed. “Yes, it is. It’s not only the words, Garret. It’s the feeling inside. I really, truly love you and want to be your wife.”

  Her husband frowned at her words this time. “You are my wife.”

  “I know,” declared Beth as she leaned in to kiss him. “Garret, you have no idea what it’s like to be a girl spending your growing up years constantly being told how to behave. We are relentlessly told what we can or cannot do. When we reach a marriageable age, we are expected to find a husband who will continue to tell us what we can and can not do.”