Wild Turkey: A Historical Virginia Romance (The Whiskey Series Book 3)

by Beth Bennett

  “Yesss…yes, sir.” Hettie was sobbing but managed to stay still as Jackson readied the first blow. He took the rod, brought it back and whisked it through the air and across Hettie’s backside with expert precision. Hettie screamed.

  “I’ve no wish to draw this out. Steel yourself, sister.” Jackson placed his palm on her lower back, took the stick and spanked Hettie eleven more times in crisp succession. Olivia was sure the stripes went all the way down her legs.

  “You may stand and return to your corner. When you have composed yourself, you may go to your room and stay there for the rest of the day.”

  Hettie complied. Sobbing, she held a handkerchief she had somehow had the presence of mind to gather. She returned to the corner but did not stay very long. Before Jackson could address Olivia’s punishment, Hettie had already left the room.

  “Olivia, come here.” Her stomach dropped to her toes. She turned from the corner and dragging her feet, finally made her way to stand in front of the desk.

  “I am very disappointed in you.”

  She nodded.

  “You nearly got yourself killed.”

  She nodded again.

  “Promise me you will never follow Hettie into folly again.”

  “I promise,” she whispered.

  “Place yourself over my lap.”

  “But aren’t you going to spank me with that rod?”

  “I am not. Due to your recent injury, I am going to use my hand. I do not appreciate your questioning my judgment as to the form the retribution is to take. Now, over my lap.”

  “But I have a bustle on.”

  “Remove it.”

  Instead of fearing the punishment, Olivia felt Jackson’s words create a sharp little “zing.” Right between her thighs. Good heavens what is wrong with me?

  Olivia reached under her skirts and untied the bustle, then slid it down her legs. Her eyes held his the entire time. She gave a little shimmy as it skimmed over her hips. She saw his jaw tighten. Slowly, she stepped out of it.

  Jackson patted his lap. Eagerly she crawled across his hard thighs. If he was going to punish her, she was going to punish him. She wiggled her hips and ground herself as hard as she could against him. His sharp intake of breath made her smile.

  “I’m ready.”

  “I will say when you are ready, young lady.”

  Olivia giggled.

  “Was that a giggle I just heard?” The imperious tone of his voice was the same as poking her with a stick. The giggle began to build. Oh no, not again. I cannot laugh. Not now.

  She clamped her mouth shut and tried not to shake with laughter. Jackson spanked her through her skirts. “Stop that this instant.” She didn’t feel a thing.

  “Hee, hee, hee, I can’t help it Jackson. Do you have to be so serious?”

  “Olivia! This is a spanking!”

  “But Jackson, you know I’m thinking about what happened in the barn.”

  “Hmmm, perhaps I should use the rod.”

  “No! Oh no! This is perfect. I promise not to laugh again. Please try not to sound so intimidating. It sets me off.”

  Without another word, Jackson tossed her skirts up and over her head. Immediately he pulled her drawers open. Olivia let out a little shriek. She could feel the cool air caress her bottom. Just the thought of Jackson staring at her naked behind caused her to arch her back.

  “We are not here for that. We are here for this.” His hand went across her bottom over and over. He wasn’t playing this time. This time was real. There was an unmistakable difference. Olivia lost count after twenty. She could no longer contain the tears and soon was sobbing her heart out. She should have started crying much earlier. Jackson stopped shortly after she began to cry. She tucked that information away for future use.

  He closed her drawers and pulled her skirts down and gathered her up in his lap. “Shhh now, shhh, all done. It’s over.” He rubbed her back in circles as she hiccupped against his chest. “I hope you remember this the next time you consider doing something so foolish.”

  “I will.” Olivia hiccupped. Inside she couldn’t help but smile. She was sure Hettie hadn’t gotten her back rubbed. She snuggled close.

  Chapter 25

  Olivia and Jackson’s wedding was only three days away. The entire house had been a flurry of activity. Her eye was nearly healed and what was left of the bruising could now be covered by Hettie’s pancake make-up. Today would be the last day of lessons for a while.

  She approached the dining room for breakfast, when the edge of a white envelope caught her eye. It was wedged under the front door. Odd. The corner was stuck, preventing it from going all the way through. Why wasn’t that dropped through the mail slot? Reaching down, she worked it free. ‘To Olivia Overton,’ it said. She did not recognize the handwriting. The corner of the envelope was torn, so she ripped it the rest of the way with a fingernail and pulled out a note, written in the same scrawling script.

  Bring the sum of $2,000 by nine a.m. to 121 Dock Street or you will never see Jackson Daniels again. Tell no one.

  Panic and fear rolled over her like an ocean wave. 121 Dock Street was the address of the granary’s warehouse. She was sure she had overheard Jackson talking about it. Surely this was the work of Argus or Lucy or both. Fear gave way to anger and anger to action. She was sick of Lucy Spear. It was high time this nonsense stopped. Stealing money, sending her ne’er-do-well accomplice to attack them in broad daylight and on and on. Enough was enough. She didn’t intend to tell anyone, because she was going to take care of this herself.

  Olivia crumpled the paper to her chest and dashed to the front door. A few passers-by walked down the street. Carriages and rigs were moving at their usual pace. Nothing seemed out of order. She could hear Hettie in the dining room clattering breakfast dishes. The professor was expected any moment. If she did not leave this instant, the opportunity would be lost. I’m putting a stop to this, once and for all. Grabbing her reticule and coat, she glanced around to make sure no one saw, then raced out the front door.

  “121 Dock Street,” she yelled after hailing a cab. “And make it quick.”

  She climbed inside and the cab did a U-turn as the driver clicked his tongue, snapped the reigns and set a fast pace. Olivia watched out the window as the view changed from upper crust brownstones to derelict tenements. Soon the sound of the river and the cry of sea gulls could be heard. Businesses gave way to warehouses. The cab finally came to a halt and the driver called from atop. “Here we are, ma’am. 121 Dock Street. Are you meetin some’un down here?”

  The docks of New York were dirty and filled with garbage and down-on-their-luck sailors and other unsavory types. He must think her a trollop. No decent woman or dapper gentleman was in sight. “No, I…” Olivia frowned. “I have business to attend to.”

  Alighting from the cab, she paid her fare and the driver pulled away. Scanning the entire building, she could find nothing out of the ordinary. The windows were shuttered as if the whole building had its eyes closed. The sliding bay doors of the loading docks were bolted and padlocked. Olivia stood in plain sight across from the only possible entrance, her stomach in knots, waiting.

  Finally, the door creaked slowly open. She strained to see inside. The same man who had accosted her that day on the streets emerged. It was the same hat, still pulled low and the same bandana around his face.

  “You bring the money?” Olivia nodded. “Good.” The man stepped aside and motioned for her to enter. She tried to remain calm and step with confidence but when she got close, he reached out, grabbed her, and pulled her inside.

  Jackson’s morning at the granary had proven busy from the start. Orders were stacking up, waiting to be filled. It was a problem he was more than happy to have. Completely engrossed in his work, his attention was drawn away when a grimy little boy entered through the front door.

  “Hey, sir. You Jackson Daniels?”

  “I am.”

  His small hand held out a letter. Desp
ite the smudges of dirt, Jackson’s name was clearly scrawled across the front. He took it.

  “Who gave you this?”

  “I dunno who he was, sir. He just said to bring this here. Give me a dime, he did.”

  “What did he look like?”

  “He were a big man but his face were kinda covered like.” The boy made a motion with his hand. “Kerchief over his mouth. It were odd. But I don’t ask no questions.”

  Just like the description Hettie and Olivia gave the day they were attacked. Jackson flipped the boy a quarter. “Thank you.” The boy tipped his hat and disappeared. Slicing open the note, his blood began to boil at what he read.

  “Bring $50,000.00 to 121 Dock Street at noon today or you will never see Olivia Overton again. Tell no one.”

  He immediately crossed to his desk, unlocked the top drawer and took out his pistol. Oh he’d be happy to come to 121 Dock Street all right. But he wasn’t waiting for noon and he wasn’t bringing any money.

  Chapter 26

  Olivia lay in a darkened corner with her arms tied behind her back. Large stacks of grain lay all around, interspersed with bales of hay. The man with the kerchief stood above her. He pulled the fabric down and proudly showed his face. “Argus Hatchgrove at your service.” He presented her with a ludicrous bow.

  “I see you’re brave enough to show yourself now that you’ve managed to subdue someone half your size. You should be ashamed.” His smile disappeared.

  “Why you…”

  A woman stepped from the gloomy darkness and leaned against a grain stack. “Pay no attention to her, Argus. She’s nothing but an undeserving slut, upset that her little gravy train has ended.”

  Olivia couldn’t believe her eyes. It was Lucy and she was barely a shadow of her former self. The clothes she wore, so fine at one time, were now dirty and rumpled. Her hair was pulled into a simple bun, her frame, thin and gaunt.

  “Cat got your tongue?” Lucy sneered. Olivia made no reply. “I can’t tell you what good it does me to finally see you put in your place.” Lucy took a step closer and looked down in triumph. “How long were you at the Daniels’ before you played the whore? You must have learned more than farming in those mountains of yours.” Lucy tisked her tongue. “I have to admit, your little innocent act fooled everyone but me. Jackson was the biggest fool of all. He’ll be joining us shortly.”

  Olivia’s stomach dropped at the mention of his name. “Where is he?”

  Lucy’s heels echoed as she slowly strutted across the floor. “Oh, he’ll be along.” With flashing black eyes, she turned her face directly toward Olivia. “Jackson doesn’t know a good thing when he sees it. He’ll pay, and you’ll pay and I will have the satisfaction of winning.”

  There Lucy stood among the stacks of smelly grain in that filthy warehouse. Her hands were clenched at her sides. She had lost everything. The expression on her face looked as hard as stone. Surely, Olivia thought, the woman’s heart had turned to stone as well. Raising her chin, Olivia’s thoughts turned to Jackson. He loved her and only her. Lucy could never take that away. The image of his handsome face and the memory of his kiss made her heart sing. Poor Lucy Spear had won nothing, owned nothing and was nothing.

  Olivia pushed herself up from the floor, straightened her spine and steeled her resolve. “You’ll never get another thing from me or Jackson, but it’s not too late. You can stop this and perhaps things will go well. Jackson and I will tell the judge that in the end, you did what was right. We will do all we can to help you.”

  Her words fell on deaf ears. Lucy’s face blushed red and her eyes became animated and angry. The hands that had been clenched in anger, suddenly became claws. She ran toward Olivia as if to tear her to shreds. The sound of a scuffle stopped her in her tracks.

  “I got 'me,” Argus shouted. “I got em.” He appeared, dragging an unconscious man across the floor. Tossing him, the man rolled to Olivia’s feet and stopped. His head was bloody, his eyes closed but Olivia knew immediately, it was Jackson. She knelt but could not even sooth his brow with her hands.

  “I got the bastard, right over the head, I did.”

  She wanted to cry. His face was toward her and she could already see a large knot forming on his forehead. Blood was running in one eye. He did not stir or say a word.

  Argus laughed. “Knocked him out cold. He didn’t see a thing. Couldn’t resist giving him a few whacks while he was down, neither. All the trouble he’s given me, he deserved worse.”

  Without remorse or pity, Lucy stared down at Jackson. “Did he bring the money?”

  “N’er bit and no suitcase with it neither.”

  Lucy shrieked in frustrated anger. She resolutely walked over to a small table and picked up a jar of lamp oil, took off the cap and walked in a slow circle around Jackson, pouring the oil as she went. When she finished, she took what was left and soaked his clothes with it. Satisfied, she narrowed her obsidian eyes at Olivia. “He’ll be the first to go and you’ll get to watch.” Jackson let out a moan and Argus kicked him in the ribs. He lay unmoving.

  “Get the matches,” Lucy hissed. Argus pulled a tinderbox from his pocket. Lucy pointed at Jackson. “Light him first. Then we’ll set a match to the hay bales and grain sacks before we leave.”

  Olivia worked the ropes on her wrists to no avail and watched as Argus took out a match to place it on the striker.

  “Hurry up,” Lucy hissed.

  The ominous sound of pounding at the warehouse door suddenly interrupted.

  “My God,” Lucy screamed. “Argus! You’ve been followed.”

  “No one saw me,” he retorted.

  “Police!” Came a muffled shout. “Open the door!”

  Lucy was in a full blown rage. “Give me the match!”

  She grabbed it from Argus and set it against the striker. But before she could get a spark, Lucy tipped forward and folded to the floor like a house of cards. Olivia later remembered it was as if the whole thing had happened in slow motion. Jackson had not been unconscious after all and it was he who had swept Lucy from her feet with his own legs. The move caused the match and striker to safely careen across the floor.

  The door to the warehouse lay in splinters as the room filled with police. Two officers subdued and handcuffed Argus. Another Lucy, and a third was cutting the rope from Olivia’s wrists. She immediately knelt beside Jackson, unable to hold back the tears.

  “Are you all right?” Her fingers gently caressed his forehead as she pushed back his hair. “You’re bleeding.” She took the hem of her skirt and wiped at the cut. Wider than it was deep, Olivia was able to staunch the flow of blood and before she knew it, strong hands were helping Jackson to stand.

  “I’m all right, my darling,” he said. “They didn’t hurt me.”

  “Oh, Jackson.”

  He wrapped her in his arms and they both watched as Argus and Lucy were led away in handcuffs. Jackson rubbed his forehead and winced. “Argus managed to give me several good clouts, but I’ll be fine.” He took Olivia’s hands and rubbed the feeling back into her wrists. “Did you send for the police?”

  “No. Did you?”

  “I was so angry, I’m afraid I was more concerned with coming after Argus and Lucy than anything else. How did they know?”

  “I see we reached you in time.” Olivia and Jackson both gasped. Professor Clarence Goode was picking his way past the splinters. The click of his cane kept time with his footsteps. “You were nowhere to be found when I arrived for lessons. Hettie had no idea where you were and I knew something must be wrong. A cursory search of the premises revealed the ransom note which you, my dear, luckily dropped in your hurry to exit.”

  “I cannot believe it,” Jackson said as he crossed to grasp the professor’s hand. “We owe you our lives.”

  Chapter 27

  Three days later, a wedding was being held. Dressed head to toe in creamy white, Olivia slowly descended the stairs. Hettie, Liza and Mrs. Daniels had helped her dress that morning. A
pre-made gown had been purchased from Stewart’s. Mrs. Daniels brought forth a long, filmy piece of diaphanous fabric. “This was my veil,” she whispered. “Would you like to wear it?”

  “Oh, Mrs. Daniels, would I? It’s beautiful.”

  The age of the veil had caused it to turn from bright white to candlelight cream. It matched Olivia’s dress perfectly. The fabric was attached to a tiara of tiny satin rosettes interlaced with pearls that mirrored Olivia’s gown. “How did you ever guess?” Olivia squealed.

  “I slipped it to the seamstress when you finished picking out your dress yesterday morning.” Olivia stood in front of the full length mirror as Mrs. Daniels placed the veil upon her head. Liza pinned it down.

  “Just look at yourself,” Hettie exclaimed.

  Olivia was a vision. Her golden streaked hair was intricately woven with tiny seed pearls. The satin rosettes of the veil made a perfect frame for her face. Belgian lace flowed across her shoulders and down to her elbows. The simple skirt bowed out beneath her bustle, with long lengths of fabric gathered behind.

  “Welcome to the family, sister.” Hettie kissed her on the cheek.

  “Welcome, daughter.” Mrs. Daniels kissed her other cheek.

  Liza sniffed and dotted her eye with a handkerchief. “Welcome.”

  “Everyone, you must stop. My face will look like a turnip if you make me cry.”

  “Oh! I almost forgot.” Mrs. Daniels hurried to retrieve a tissue wrapped package lying on the bed. She carefully removed the top and took out a small embroidered handkerchief. “This is for you. It was my mother’s. Have you heard the poem?”

  “The poem?”

  “Yes. It begins with this. Something old.” Olivia caressed the finely woven fabric with her fingers. The antique linen was embellished with exquisite yellow flowers. Mrs. Daniels pulled out a choker made of three rows of pearls. A diamond pendant in the center, held it together. “Something new. These are from Jackson.” Olivia gasped and touched the necklace as Mrs. Jackson fastened it around her neck. “Something borrowed.” Mrs. Daniels indicated the veil.