by Maren Smith
“But Clay—”
He held up his hand. “No, darlin’. That’s final. We’ll have to survive our absence from each other for a few more days, and I’ll do what I can to make up for it later.”
She scrunched up her nose and pursed her lips, and Clay gave her a clear look of warning. He wasn’t about to tolerate a temper tantrum, and she was only two shakes away from pitching a huge fit if experience was any clue. Before she could say something to get herself in trouble, he turned her around and landed a hard smack on her bottom. “I’m hungry, woman,” he grunted. “Some of us didn’t have candy before supper, so let’s get to it.”
She squealed and scurried away. If he wasn’t mistaken, he heard her muttering something about male chauvinism. He chose to ignore it.
CHAPTER THREE
ABBY STEWED IN SILENCE for the first half of supper. It was infuriating that when she’d finally decided to tell Clay she’d like to help him with ranching, he’d dismissed the idea out of hand.
She stirred the vegetables and beef around on her plate. It was her least favorite meal, but she’d made it because Clay liked it. Cooking was boring, and she couldn’t bear the thought of spending the rest of her days only attending to household matters. It was imperative that she get Clay to change his mind.
Peering at him through her lashes, she employed a different tactic. “Daddy, what if I ride with you tomorrow? I’ll stay out of your hair but we can visit with each other on your breaks.”
Clay shook his head. “I don’t take breaks. I plough through the day’s work so I can get it done by sundown. You’d only be a distraction, darlin’.”
She glared at him, her anger and disappointment rising. Clay could be so stubborn! If he wouldn’t even let her watch him do his work, she didn’t image he’d ever allow her to participate in any meaningful way. His rejection also made her feel like he didn’t miss her during the day as much as she missed him, adding insult to injury.
“Fine!” she exclaimed, for lack of a more eloquent response. She dropped her fork on her plate and stood to her feet.
“Sit down,” Clay said in his sternest daddy voice. She could tell he was not at all pleased with her outburst, but she was past the point of caring.
“I’m not hungry.”
“Abigail, you’d better sit your bottom in that chair and explain how you feel instead of throwing a fit. I’m warning you. I just spanked you for acting out instead of being honest about your feelings, and don’t think I won’t do it again, longer and harder.”
“That’s because you’re mean!” she accused, still standing. Her eyes flooded with tears. She knew she was being an intolerable brat, but her emotions were strong and she felt helpless to control them.
“Why am I mean? Because I don’t want you to get hurt and I want to be productive?”
She couldn’t think of a rational response. Her impotent anger was only growing in intensity, so she fled the dining room and climbed up the stairs to their bedroom. She entered and slammed the door behind her, wincing when it connected with the frame.
The slam was louder than she’d anticipated because the window of the bedroom was open and had created a draft. She quickly closed it, not wanting to risk a ranch hand hearing what would surely be a serious punishment for her attitude.
The mattress squeaked when she sat on it. Grabbing her fluffy pink pillow, she hugged it against her chest and waited for the sound of Clay’s steps. Her heart pounded. For this temper tantrum, he would tan her hide until she felt like she was on fire. She already regretted running away. Why, oh why hadn’t she sat back down and thought about how to answer him instead of acting out?
A long time passed, and Clay didn’t arrive. It struck her that he might choose to ignore her as punishment for her behavior, though he’d never done that before. Tears stung her eyes and her nose burned. These were the times when she needed Clay the most—when she was so overwhelmed that she couldn’t think rationally. She needed Clay to help her calm down and center her once again, even if it took a painful punishment to get her there. Her heart might very well break if he ignored her completely.
She nearly wept with relief when she finally heard his footsteps, but apprehension quickly followed. The doorknob turned and he strode in, closing the door behind him with purpose. His jaw was set, and he stood observing her in his at-ease military stance—hands clasped behind back, shoulders straight.
“What do you have to say for yourself, young lady?” he asked with a raised voice.
She didn’t know how to express how she felt, that was the problem. When her feelings were hurt, she always lashed out angrily instead of explaining. He knew this, so it was no surprise when he guessed the source of part of her anger. “Did I hurt your feelings when I said you couldn’t come to the range?”
She nodded. “It made me feel like you don’t really want to spend time with me.” She blinked, spilling tears down her face.
“You see? That’s what you needed to tell me. And you must learn to tell me how you feel before throwing a tantrum, Abigail. Good girls don’t cry and slam doors when they don’t get their way, do they?”
“No,” she responded, her lower lip quivering. “But nice daddies let their little girls go to the range with them.”
Clay’s expression hardened even more. He walked to where Abby was sitting on the bed and held a finger in front of her face. “It’s not my job to be nice, little girl. It’s my job to protect and provide, and I can’t do either of those things well if I let you have your way with this.”
She should have apologized at that point or, better, explained her desire to participate in outdoor ranching duties, but she couldn’t bring herself to do either. “I guess I’ll spend tomorrow missing you then,” she pouted.
He scoffed. “You’ll be spending tomorrow with a very sore bottom to remember me by. I cannot allow that kind of outlandish behavior to go unpunished. On your feet!”
Abby stood, resigned to her fate. When Clay used his stern, raised voice, she knew he was in no mood for arguments, and if she tried to talk at that point, the punishment would likely be more severe.
“Turn around and bend over the bed,” he said, as his hands moved to his belt buckle.
Though surprised, she did as she was told. It was rare for Clay to use his belt on her. She squeezed her eyes shut and grabbed onto the quilt. With practiced efficiency, her bottom was bared, her panties lowered to her knees. The snick of the belt being released from the loops made her whimper. She looked over her shoulder to see Clay folding the belt in two. He looked so displeased with her, which made Abby feel even more rotten.
“Daddy?”
She wouldn’t try to get out of the punishment, but she needed to feel connected to him. She hated getting spanked over the bed instead of over his knee, where she could at least have contact with his warm body. Being spanked over the bed felt especially punishing, and it saddened her that she had displeased him so badly.
His hard gaze reached hers.
“Daddy, I-I...” She swallowed as her mind raced, searching for something to say.
His gaze softened slightly. He knew it was difficult for her to speak when her emotions were high, and he waited for her to find her words.”
“I’m sorry I slammed the door.”
“I forgive you, darlin’, but the problem is that you need to explain your needs instead of throwing a fit. You didn’t behave properly, and that’s what this spanking is for. Understand?”
She nodded.
“Use your words.”
“Yes, Daddy. I understand,” she said, sniffling.
“Good girl.”
Clay brought his arm back, while Abby squeezed her eyes shut in anticipation of the first lash. He strapped her across both cheeks, which sent a resounding crack into the air. Abby bit the quilt to keep from screaming when the second stroke fell. He hadn’t told her how many strokes total she would receive, so she began to panic after the tenth. Her legs kicked of their own ac
cord, and she twisted to her side away from the belt, trying to protect her tender bottom from the whipping.
“No, you don’t. Plant your tummy back on the bed,” Clay said patiently. The mildness of his voice contrasted sharply with the pain he was inflicting on her poor backside.
“Please no more, Daddy!” she wailed, even as she obeyed. Her legs were shaking, her bottom quivering from the intensity of the spanking. She knew she needed his discipline when she behaved badly. It made her feel safe and secure because it reiterated that she could always count on him. If he didn’t spank her hard after misbehaving, she would lose faith in his authority. But that didn’t make the pain any easier to bear.
“Six more,” he said. “Stay in position for these or we start over.”
With everything she had in her, she willed herself to keep still as the last six strokes fell. Then it was over, and Daddy Clay was gathering her into his embrace. He stroked her hair and back as she sobbed. It felt so good to cry, to be forgiven. Some people might think it was crazy, but as much as she hated getting punished, she loved how she felt after, and it was always worth it.
As she rested against him, listening to his heartbeat, she thought about how she would express the other reason for her display of emotion. Though it would be in the back of her mind until she told him, she didn’t want to interrupt the moment. Closing her eyes, she enjoyed the feeling of being safe, secure, and loved. Later she would tell him what else she wanted.
CHAPTER FOUR
SEVERAL DAYS PASSED in harmony, and Abby gradually gathered the courage to tell Clay of her desire to help run the ranch. Deciding it was best to show him how serious she was, she saddled his old mare Glaze and headed to the range where he was spending the day branding cattle. Though he’d told her she would be a distraction and she was technically disobeying by riding out to meet him, she needed to make it clear how much participating meant to her.
When she reached the meadow, she spotted Clay and one of his hands by a roaring fire. Clay held a branding iron over the flames while his ranch hand lassoed a young bull. Abby stayed hidden behind a thicket of trees watching them for some time. She liked seeing Clay at work. His sleeves were rolled up nearly to his elbows and his Wranglers hugged his powerful legs. Clay had a strong, hard appearance from head to toe.
Taking a deep breath, she nudged Glaze with her heels in the direction of the men. When Clay saw her, he straightened from his crouched position, placed his hands on his hips, and watched her approach. She rode all the way to him before hopping off the horse. As soon as her feet touched the ground, she wished she’d remained where she was so that she could speak to him from a position of implied power. Standing on the ground, she was a foot shorter than he, and she had to crane her neck to look up at his scowling face.
“I told you I couldn’t have you here while I’m working. You’d better have a darn good reason for disobeying me, Abigail.”
She chewed her bottom lip and glanced at the ranch hand, who eyed the two of them warily before turning his back to give them the illusion of privacy. She returned her attention to Clay and cleared her throat. “You told me you wanted me to express when I needed something instead of throwing a fit.”
“Yes, but I don’t see why you can’t tell me at home,” Clay said, tapping his boot on the dusty ground.
“Well,” she said slowly. “I’m telling you here because this is where I want to be. I want to help you with ranching.”
He stared at her and shook his head. “Didn’t we already discuss this? I know you miss me, but I’ll only be this busy for a few more days and then I’ll be able to spend more time with you.”
She jutted out her chin and placed her hands on her hips, matching his stance. “It’s not only that. I miss you, but I also want ranching to be my job. You know I lived on a ranch when I was a teenager, and those are some of the happiest memories from my past.”
He narrowed his eyes. “You want to be a ranch hand?”
She nodded. “Yes, Clay.”
He looked perplexed. He stared after man who had been assisting him with branding as he ambled a distance away. When Clay returned his focus to Abby, he said. “I’m surprised to only be hearing about this now. Why didn’t you tell me before?”
She shrugged. “I only recently realized it. Ever since meeting you, I’ve gradually come to understand myself better. I don’t know how to explain it really, except that before you I never had the luxury of thinking about my dreams. I only thought about surviving.”
Clay ran a hand around his face and tilted his hat back. He studied her, and Abby stared back at him. Her heart pounded as she waited for his verdict.
He didn’t speak for a long while, and she worried that he was leaning toward saying no. She needed him to understand. “I love animals and I think I’d be good at taking care of them. I want to train horses, round up cows, do all of that.”
Finally, he spoke. “Okay, darlin’. If it’s that important to you, I’ll do what I can to teach you.”
“Oh, Clay, thank you!” she exclaimed. She wrapped her arms around his waist and squeezed tight.
He stroked his hand over her head and down her back before pulling away. “You know I always want to give you what you want.” He placed the knuckle of his forefinger under her chin and lifted it so that he could look in her eyes.
“Yes, Daddy,” she said softly. “Thank you so much.”
“You also know that your safety and security come before your wants.”
Her heart fell a little, which must have shown in her expression because Clay continued. “I’m not saying I won’t teach you, but I’m saying we need to wait. If I concentrate on showing you the ropes now, I can’t concentrate on getting my work done. You’ll need to be patient.”
Though disappointed, Abby was grateful that he was willing to teach her. “I understand.”
“Good girl,” Clay said. “Now, I want you to ride Glaze up that hill there.” He pointed up a slope. “From there you can have a good view of what’s going on. Watch for as long as you want and get acquainted with this part of ranching.”
“That sound great!” Abby said, flashing him a smile.
He smiled back and reached down to give her a leg up to her horse. “We’ll have to see how you take to ranch work. You might not like it so much when you get into the nuts and bolts.”
“I think I will.” She was sure she would take to it just fine.
“We’ll see. But regardless, I’m proud of you, baby, for telling me what you want. Go on now.” Clay clapped his hand over Glaze’s rump sending her and Abby on their way.
As Abby watched the branding from a distance, her heart filled with love for her protective husband. He was stubborn and set in his old-fashioned ways, so it meant a great deal to her that he was going to allow her to participate in the more stereotypical male work. To her it was a great sign of his love for her, and she rode home feeling like the luckiest girl in the world.
CLAY WAS SURPRISED to learn of Abby’s wish. He’d had no idea that she wanted to join him in his work, instead assuming she was happy being a housewife. He prided himself in being able to figure out her desires, but he hadn’t even suspected that one.
The horse he’d bought her would certainly come in handy now, he realized. His old mare Glaze was nice to ride, but she wouldn’t do well with rounding cattle anymore. Abby would need a few other things to equip her for ranching—chaps, work gloves, and a hat, at the very least. He thought perhaps he could start her out with mending fences, since there were several places around the perimeter of the range where the wood had split. He could then show her how he trained his horses and see if she took to that.
With a plan forming in his mind, he drove to town to make a few more purchases in preparation for Christmas morning. At the western supply store, he watched as the owner did him a favor and wrapped his new purchases for Abby using brown paper and twine.
“Looks like you got yourself a cowgirl,” Rosemary said as she
taped the paper over the box containing the chaps. He’d known Rosemary since he was a lad, and she’d been tickled pink when he’d finally met someone to settle down with.
“Yep, apparently, I do,” Clay said. “Abby told me only just yesterday that she wants to be involved in the day-to-day work at a ranch. Never would have guessed it.”
“Complicated woman, huh?” Rosemary said, giving him a wink.
He chuckled. “You have no idea.”
It dawned on him with amusement how sharply her newest presents differed from what he’d already gotten her.
Abby had once stopped in a store to admire Lite-Brite, a toy that had been popular when she was a child. She’d mused that she’d always wanted to have one, and Clay had locked that into his memory along with other random comments she’d made during their time together. He was determined to give her the wonderful Christmas she’d never had as a child, and the majority of the presents he’d bought for her were to make the child inside of her happy.
CHAPTER FIVE
ABBY WAITED IMPATIENTLY until the sun appeared to shake Clay’s shoulder. “Daddy, it’s Christmas!”
He groaned and rolled to his side away from her.
She threw a leg over him and straddled his side, bouncing on him and giggling. “Wake up, sleepyhead!”
A growl that could have come from a bear being disturbed during hibernation rumbled in the air as a rough paw grabbed her around the middle and trapped her within two arms of steel.
She squirmed, laughing and hardly able to move. “Let me go! I want to open my presents.”
“Naughty girls get switches and coal, you know,” he grumbled, loosening his hold on her. “What time is it?”
Abby leapt out of bed. “Time to go downstairs.” She grabbed her terrycloth robe and tied its cloth belt around her waist as Clay slowly sat up and planted his feet on the floor.
