The Widow Wagon: Second Chances

by Megan Michaels

  Epilogue

  The next day when Daniel and Sophie were taking a walk, they ran into Mr. Haskins strolling down their street.

  Mr. Haskins stopped in front of them, leaning on his walking cane. “Mr. and Mrs. Weston, I was just coming to see you both. I forgot to ask you a question. Sophie, did you happen to meet a Daisy Anderson on the Widow Wagon?”

  Sophie hesitated. Why would he be asking about Daisy? “I did. She’d joined us in Independence from her aunt’s house nearby in Missouri. Why?”

  Robert put his hands in his pockets. “Well, I ran into someone at the hotel who said he’d been looking for a woman who had supposedly gotten on the Widow Wagon, and that he needed to find her and discuss an urgent matter. He said it was really important, that he had to find her. I’ll send him a Western Union letting him know that she was indeed on that wagon. Do you know where her new husband lives? Or where she planned to get off on the Oregon Trail?”

  Sophie felt odd telling him. What if it wasn’t something good? She worried that it would leave Daisy vulnerable. She looked to Daniel, but he didn’t seem alarmed. She decided answering Robert wouldn’t hurt. “She planned to meet him at Chimney Rock in Nebraska. So, she should have gotten off sometime in June. Since it’s September, she’s been there for a while now, I think.”

  “I think he said he planned on going to Courthouse Rock. But that’s near Chimney Rock, from my understanding. I’ll send him a Western Union, telling him to go to Chimney Rock. He’ll be happy to find her at this point. He’s been looking for a few months now. Thank you, Sophie. I’m sure it’ll be good news for her too, just like it has been for the two of you. Good luck with the house and the baby. I’m so happy for you folks!”

  * * *

  Willie sat down at the saloon, scanning the crowd around him. He had to find that woman. Daisy Anderson. It’d been months of searching for her. Everywhere he turned, it seemed no one knew who she was.

  All he knew was that she’d been on the Widow Wagon. He’d talked to the gentleman that ran the Widow Wagon out of Independence, Missouri and he even saw for himself that she had signed the register. She’d been on the journey that had started in June. However, the paperwork said she had planned on getting off in Courthouse Rock — and there was zero record of her arriving here.

  Where the hell had she gone?

  He had to find Daisy Anderson. She had something that belonged to Willie. She had it and probably didn’t even know its real value. Probably thought it was pretty and something they found on her husband when he’d been killed in the Civil War. But it didn’t belong to Sophie’s husband. It had belonged to Willie’s brother Bobby. Daisy’s husband shot Bobby. Killed him. Soldiers stole the jewel from Bobby and gave it to Daisy saying it belonged to her husband. Lies. All lies.

  But Willie needed to find it and bring it back home with him It’d become very important. There was no way to get what was rightfully his without it. Willie looked once again at the papers they found on his brother, Bobby, when he’d died. It became clear that he had to get it back. This could change his life completely.

  Bobby’s war buddy saw the Yankee soldiers steal it, taking it out of Bobby’s pocket saying, “We’ll give this to Daisy. I ain’t never seen anything like this before. Have you?”

  The other soldier had agreed that it was rare and unique. If Willie had to kill Daisy in the process of getting it back, that’s what he’d do. He would stop at nothing until it was returned to him — and put in its rightful place.

  The bartender came over to where Willie was sitting at the end of the bar, startling him. “Hey, are you Willie?”

  “Yeah, what’s it to you?” Willie put his drink down, expecting trouble.

  “Joe at the Mercantile says there’s a Western Union message for someone named Willie. Someone by the name of Robert Haskins said he’d met you in Topeka, Kansas. Is that you?”

  “Yeah, I met Mr. Haskins. He sent a message for me?”

  The bartender nodded. “Apparently. Mr. Haskins said you had come to Courthouse Rock looking for someone.”

  “That I did. I can’t find her anywhere.”

  “I figured it musta been I knew you had asked me about this woman you’re looking for.” The bartender cocked a thumb toward the door to the saloon. “The mercantile is across the street. Ask for Joe. He’ll give you the message.”

  “I will. Thank you.” Willie threw some change on the counter and strode toward the mercantile.

  The front door squeaked loudly as he closed it behind him, and he headed straight for the gentleman at the counter. “Hey, I’m looking for someone named Joe.”

  “That would be me.”

  Willie pushed his hat up off his forehead. “I hear there’s a message for me from the Western Union.”

  Joe’s face brightened as he turned to the desk. He pulled up the message, handing it to Willie. “Here it is.”

  Willie shook his head. “Can you read it to me? I don’t… read.”

  “Oh, yeah. No problem.” Joe picked up his glasses to read the message:

  Dear, Willie. Stop. Spoke to Sophie. Stop. She says that Daisy Anderson was on the Widow Wagon. Stop. Says Daisy is going to Chimney Rock. Stop. Says she’s been there since June. Stop. Good Luck. Stop. End.

  “Thank you, kindly. I appreciate it. Can I keep that message?” Willie reached out to take the Western Union message from Joe.

  “Absolutely.” Joe handed the message over.

  Willie left the mercantile, crossing the busy street to his hotel. The midday heat rose from the street, the smell of horses hanging in the air. He waved to the hotel manager. He’d been staying there for almost three weeks now, looking and asking everyone he met if they knew Daisy Anderson. He climbed the stairs to his room. The air in the room was stifling and he stood in the window looking down on the busy street trying to catch a breeze.

  Now, he knew why he hadn’t been successful in his search. In the morning, he’d be leaving for Chimney Rock to finally find Mrs. Daisy Anderson.

  Once it was in his possession again, his new life could begin.

  To Be Continued…

  # # #

  Did you enjoy the story? Want to know what happens next? Read on for an excerpt of the next entry in the series, The Widow Wagon, Book Two: Match of Convenience.

  Excerpt - Widow Wagon - Book #2

  Prologue

  Taking Daisy home, the chestnut mare galloped down the road faster than necessary, Daisy’s long, raven hair flying behind her like a black veil whipping in the wind. Exhilaration filled her.

  Free!

  But the breakneck pace kept her from noticing something else — her father reclining in a rocking chair on the front porch, waiting for her return.

  Daisy and her faithful friend Molly — more than a mere horse — halted in front of the stall, her horse snorting and prancing in place. They both shared the same spirit — wild, carefree, and on many days, reckless. On more than one occasion, Daisy had been reprimanded for her impulsive and shortsighted actions. She preferred to think of herself as untamed.

  Daisy leapt off the horse, brushing the dust and dirt from the trail off the pants that belonged to her husband, Jesse. They were a bit big but fit her fine as long as she used a strip of leather to tie them tightly to her small, delicate waist. She pulled the horse into her stall, taking the saddle and harnesses off her. She cooled the horse off with the cold water from the pump in the barn, brushing her down and rewarding her with a large pail of oats.

  She rubbed the horse’s nose and kissed her. Patting the horse’s flank then stepping out of the stall, Daisy secured the latch behind her, taking one last look at the beloved animal. “We had a good ride today, Molly. You’re a good girl.”

  Daisy turned — and literally bounced off her father George’s chest. “Too bad her owner isn’t a good girl too.”

  “Daddy, you scared me half to death.” Daisy put her hand to her chest closing her eyes briefly, trying to calm her suddenly ra
cing heart.

  “Just as you scared me half to death watching you gallop down the road at break-neck speed. You’ve been told over and over to not ride that horse at that speed. Her knee is weak. She could’ve fallen, and rolled right over you.” George pulled her into the middle of the barn, not wanting to startle the horses in their stalls.

  “Daddy, I’m eighteen years old — and I’m married. I can, and have, been making my own decisions.” Daisy pulled her arm out of her father’s grasp, scowling at him. “It’s ridiculous!”

  “Don’t take that tone with me, young lady. I don’t care that you’re eighteen years old. While Jesse is fighting the war, and you’re under my roof, you’ll obey my rules.” He paused, staring at her, his hands on his hips. “I’m sure you remember what the consequences are in this house for breaking the rules and acting out in defiance?”

  “What? Wait! You cannot be serious! I refuse to be treated as a child!” Daisy put her own hands on her hips. She’d been married for a year now and she had a house with Jesse. However, since the war with the Confederacy had begun, her parents asked – well, practically demanded — that she come back home once Jesse shipped out to fight with the Union. They were worried about her and she readily agreed to it, feeling lonely in the big house she shared with her husband. Besides, she missed the horses — and the riding.

  “I wouldn’t be treating you as a child. It’s true, you are no longer a child and, therefore, you’ll be treated as a grown woman. A grown woman who is acting like a child, and getting her bottom blistered. Childish behavior isn’t tolerated and will be driven out with a good hiding. I spoiled you as a child, but you’re a woman now and need to learn a modicum of restraint and common sense. You — or your horse — could’ve been seriously hurt today.” He brushed past her, shutting and latching the barn door.

  “Daddy! No, wait! I—”

  “No, you shush. The time for talking is over. You’ve been warned.” He walked back toward her, gently grasping her arm and dragging her over to stand by a wooden chair with a spindled back and side arms. “Untie that strip of leather around your waist and give it to me. And you’ve been warned about wearing pants before. I’m thinking these are Jesse’s pants. Am I correct?”

  “Yes, Daddy.” She stood, frozen in place.

  Compliance.

  She needed to manipulate this situation and it seemed that respect and compliance would have to work in her favor.

  “Take that leather off, Daisy. Now.” He pointed to her waist. He was serious. The muscle in his jaw twitched, his eyes narrowed.

  “But—”

  “Now, Daisy!” He held his hand out palm up, giving her an expectant lift of an eyebrow.

  Her vision blurred as her eyes welled with tears, her voice cracking. “Okay.”

  Her trembling hands worked at the loose knot she’d made with the thin strips of harness to keep her pants up. Once the knot was worked free, her pants started to fall off her delicate frame. Holding them up with one hand, she offered him the strap with a trembling hand.

  George immediately folded it over and hit his thigh with the formidable implement. “You might as well let those drawers fall. They’re coming down anyway.”

  “Daddy, no!” Daisy clutched the pants even tighter, bunching the excess material at her waist.

  “Young lady, I’m not repeatin’ myself again.” He pointed to the ground. “Get ‘em down. Now.”

  “Ooooh!” Clutching her pants, she bounced on the balls of her feet. But she knew she couldn’t tangle with him. It would be better to obey. Letting go, the pants glided down her legs, puddling at her boots leaving her in only her pale peach pantaloons. Self-consciously, she crossed her arms in front of her pelvis, tears tracking down her cheeks.

  “Boots and pants off completely. I don’t want you tripping and falling.”

  The trembling in her body made the task more difficult than it had to be, a little sob escaping her lips. She stopped to swipe at her tears. Although it was warm outside, the dusty wood floor of the barn felt cool under the soles of her warm feet.

  “Go stand behind that chair.” He pointed to the spindled chair a few feet away, slapping the leather strips against his leg as he strode up to her. “I want you to bend over the back of the chair, hanging onto the arms. You’re going to need something to hold on to.”

  “Daddy, I won’t do it again. I promise! Can’t we just talk about this? You can yell at me all you want. I’m sorry.” Daisy wrung her hands in front of her thighs.

  “Nope. Talking is over, baby. You knew what you did was wrong, and you’ve been warned over and over. This could’ve ended in something serious. Bend over.” He gently pushed between her shoulder blades encouraging her obedience. “Grip the arms of the chair, and those hands had better stay there until I’m done.”

  Daisy’s chest constricted. It had been a while since she’d felt that scared. It’d been a while since she’d been spanked too. She knew he was right, but she loved going fast. She loved the danger and excitement, the adrenalin rush with the wind blowing through her hair, the hooves thumping on the hard dirt, the occasional snort, the horse’s back muscles ripping under her legs. But if Molly’s knee had given way while galloping, Daisy would’ve gone down with her.

  “Let’s get these down too.” Her father tugged at the ties on her drawers.

  Panic gripped her and she started to rise. “No! Oh, God, no! Not bare!”

  “Down!” He bent her back over the chair, holding her in place while the other hand continued to undo the ties. “Yes, on the bare! I refuse to strap you with anything covering your bottom. No sense in tanning you over your clothes. You asked for this, girl.”

  The light material whispered over her legs, softly landing at her feet. Her stomach churned at the prospect of him striking her with the whippy strip of leather, especially on her bare skin. The air coming through the small windows in the barn wafted over her skin and the moist lips of her sex. She squeezed her thighs together to hide her quim from his view, knowing it would be impossible to keep it secret in this position.

  “Time to talk.” Her father slowly slide the harness strips over her backside causing her to shiver, and goose flesh rising on her skin. “You know Molly has a bad knee. I’ve even asked you to not ride her unless it’s a slow walk in the nearby pasture. But instead you take her to town and then gallop home with her on the hard road.”

  She gripped the arms of the chair so hard her knuckles were white. “I know. I’m sorry, Daddy.”

  “I’m sure you are. You’re gonna be a whole lot sorrier in a moment. Trust me.” His boot tapped her left ankle. “Open your legs further. I don’t want you clenching and bruising.”

  A moan escaped her lips, followed by a small sob. Tears slid down the bridge of her nose onto the shiny wood on the seat of the chair. Could this possibly be any more humiliating? She didn’t think so. She tried clenching her bottom, her position keeping the muscles of her buttocks from squeezing quite as well as she’d have liked. Instead, she felt her cunt drip with her juices.

  Why? Why would her body be doing this? Fear? Anxiety?

  “Let’s get this over with. Maybe the next time I warn you, the response will be obedience. I’m thinking after this, you’ll listen better.”

  His hand left her back, and she felt him take a step back. She heard the whoosh of the leather slicing the air a second before it struck her buttocks. She’d never felt anything like it, a line of fire cutting across her flesh.

  She screeched, rising to stand behind the chair, clutching her cheeks in both hands. “Oh, Daddy!” She bent slightly, trying to press her scorched flesh into the palm of her hands. The sting didn’t dissipate though, pain coming in fresh waves.

  “I told you that you were to keep your hands gripping the arms of the chair. Get back over that chair and hold on. If you get up again, it’ll be two lashes on your thighs. Now, move.” He pointed at the chair again, then took a step toward her, and she hurriedly bent over once
more. She didn’t want to do anything that would increase his ire any further. She just needed this whipping to end. Now.

  The leather cut through the cool barn air, leaving line after line of pain on her bottom. That bit of harness marched up and down her bottom from the top of her thighs all the way up one cheek and back down the other. She squeezed the arms of the chair, shrieking and sobbing, the burn turning into a smoldering, all-encompassing pain that engulfed her whole bottom.

  She hadn’t realized he’d stopped until his hand gently rubbing her back brought her back to her senses.

  His hard, callused palm lightly stroked her seared bottom. “Do you think you’ll remember to listen and obey my rules from now on?”

  “Yes, Daddy. I p-promise.” She let go of the chair for a moment to wipe her face.

  “Good girl. Will you treat your horse better from now on?”

  “Yes, D-Daddy.” Her breath hitched, her whole body was trembling.

  “We’re going to make sure.” The leather tapped her bottom again. “Four more. That’s all.”

  “No! I just can’t.”

  But before she could say anything else it struck twice on the underside of each cheek. Her father tossed the strap onto the barn floor just to the right of the chair, pulling her to her feet.

  She threw her arms around his waist burying her nose in his chest. “I’m sorry, Daddy. I w-won’t do it a-again.”

  Her father rubbed her back, kissing the top of her head. “I’m sure you won’t, baby. It’s all over.” He swayed with her in his arms, kissing her head, stroking her arms and back until her sobs subsided. Finally, he pulled away, tipping her chin up. “Now, I want you to march your little striped bottom into the house and go up to your room. After you put a nightgown on, I want you to stand in the corner by your window with that red, naughty backside showing. Ya hear?”