Willa and the Trapper

by Sharon Ryan

  “Oh, yes,” Willa growled, “I can play the game for as long as it takes.”

  Long about suppertime, Shamus walked up to Willa’s sod house with his wriggling bundle hidden underneath his fringed leather coat. He found Willa in the corral working with the stallion. She had once again donned her brother’s clothes, and Shamus felt grateful that she had waited until later in the day to start her horse work since the townsfolk spies and gossips were less likely to be lurking nearby. Also, Shamus was certain that Sneed had come and gone.

  She looked as beautiful as ever. Self-assured and confidently directing the large animal to move quietly and safely around his trainer. Shamus knew it wouldn’t be long before Willa would ride the stallion and complete her brother’s dream. Shamus had a hunch that the mare would foal in the spring. The line of Freeman Morgan horses would soon come to fruition.

  “Miss Freeman!” Shamus shouted. “I need you to come over her and take a look at something.”

  Willa gave Shamus a sidelong glance. Ever since Shamus had rescued her, Willa never took her eyes off the stallion while she was training him. She nodded her head so that Shamus knew she heard him and kept the stallion’s attention on her as she offered a piece of apple to the beast. Willa unfastened the halter as the dark horse chomped his treat. Willa patted the horse’s neck as he quietly turned to walk away. “Coming,” Willa told Shamus, her body quiet and still.

  She brushed her sticky hand on the seat of the breeches as she strode toward the gate. Shamus moved toward her, but he didn’t reveal his gift until the gate was safely locked and she approached him.

  “You’ve made astounding progress with him,” Shamus observed as he nodded toward the departing horse.

  “He is a quick study once he calms down. The little treats were the way to his heart. Isn’t that true of any male? They say that the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.”

  Shamus grinned. “I suppose it is something like that,” he replied as the furry bundle under his coat began to whimper and wriggle.

  “What do you have there?” Willa asked as Shamus pulled the pup free. Willa looked delighted. “Oh, she’s adorable!”

  “And she’s yours,” Shamus said. “I got her in town, and there’s a message that’s been sent along with her. People care about you, Willa, and many of them think there’s nothing wrong with you.” She looked doubtful as he handed the squirming ball over to her. Once in Willa’s arms, the pup began to lick Willa’s face and cry in happy, playful whimpers.

  “She’s lovely,” Willa said.

  “And I’ll bet she’s smart,” Shamus said. “She will train fast since you have such a wonderful way with animals.”

  Willa blushed and let her eyes rest on top of the puppy’s head as she fought back the rising heat in her body.

  “Would you like a cup of coffee, Mr. Harding?” she asked demurely.

  “I’d be delighted,” he answered.

  Willa carried two kitchen chairs outside while Shamus tied a length of light rope to the puppy’s leather collar. Willa returned with two steaming cups and handed one to Shamus. They sat down next to each other, both thoughtfully sipping the hot coffee. The sun was sinking behind the far-off mountains, and the darkness began to shadow the lower part of the horizon.

  “Thank you for the pup,” Willa said. “I think I will name her Sandy for the creek bottom where you live, Shamus.”

  “Sandy. I like that,” Shamus said, looking over at Willa. He appreciated her strength and determination and her newly revealed sentimental side.

  They watched the sun disappear behind the distant Rocky Mountains. Dark blue fingers reaching into the sky until all of it was deep blue, and the stars began to sparkle. The evening, expectant and hopeful, settled around them with a comfortable silence.

  Willa began to feel warm again, but then it began to change as a cold panic clawed at her gut. She wondered what if Shamus wasn’t feeling the same way. What if he was just out to get her property? What if she was falling for him, and he planned to use her and leave her a fallen woman? The ‘what if’s’ tore through her brain and roared in her ears. Didn’t the good doctor mention that Shamus had his eye on Lucy Wilson? Yes, he said that Shamus was ‘destined’ to marry her. Willa’s heart simultaneously broke and erupted into rage. How dare he! How dare all of his sex! “Traitor,” she thought.

  Shamus noticed a rigidness chase away Willa’s ease. “What is it?” he asked. “What’s wrong?”

  Willa spouted, “Why are you here? Are you after my land? Are you in cahoots with those awful townsfolk? Looking to use my hard work as a dowry for your precious Miss Lucy Wilson?”

  Shamus, startled by her abrupt change, just stared at Willa.

  “Speechless? No words to cover up the filthy deal you have in mind?” she accused.

  “Willa,” Shamus said. “I have no idea what you are talking about. The Wilson girls don’t interest me, and I’ve never thought to do anything but to help you keep your land.” Shamus could feel himself getting defensive as he wrestled with the wounds made by her accusations against him. “Who told you this?” he continued, “I don’t know why you are angry, Willa, and it’s bad manners to be unkind to your guest.” Shamus leveled a serious look at her.

  “I’ll show you unkind,” Willa spat as she got to her feet and pulled her arm back. Shamus caught her hand and held it.

  “Don’t,” he said. “Don’t you ever approach me with your arm lifted to strike me. Willa, I have been patient, and I have been kind. You have suffered much, but I draw the line here. Your pain is no excuse to turn on your friend! I believe we need to have a refresher from the previous lessons I have conducted on your behaving yourself.” With that, Shamus looped his arm around her waist and untied the puppy’s rope; then, he dragged Willa into the sod house with the dog on his heels.

  Once inside, Shamus dragged the fighting Willa to her bed. He sat down, turned her to face him and growled, “Now, lass, you won’t forget this lesson for a very long time, I assure you.” He bent her over his knee, pulled her loosely fitting breeches down and leveled a stinging smack across her rear. Willa stopped kicking. She continued trying to wriggle free, but to no avail. Shamus took another swat. It stung, and Willa felt the tears of frustration brimming in her eyes. He struck again and again and again; each time more forceful than the last. Suddenly, Shamus lifted and quickly set Willa on her feet. Willa hoped he would hold and caress her; instead, he pulled up her breeches and tied up her rope belt. He turned her around and gave her a push away from him. Willa had lost count of how many swats Shamus had given her. She expected to feel indignant, but she somehow felt humbled.

  Shamus stood up and strode to the door. “That’s the end of our lessons, lass,” he said with his back to her. “Shamus Harding knows when to quit.” He sighed, opened the door, stepped through and slammed it as he left.

  The puppy was barking hysterically. Willa walked over and threw the door wide open.

  “Take this flea-bitten mongrel with you!” she screamed.

  Shamus stopped, turned around and regarded her. “I won’t take away the only friend you’ll ever have,” he said as he walked away, his shape melting into the darkness.

  Chapter 8

  Willa, sore and tired, woke just after dawn. Shamus Harding’s last punishment still clung to her body like wet clothes. Willa had never been more confused regarding her feelings, not in her whole life. Now, she simply felt anger and excitement, pain and pleasure—simultaneously and without apology. Willa’s feelings about Shamus seemingly went from the cold of the arctic to the heat of the equator. “Shamus, go straight to Hell!” she screamed out her window when she awakened.

  Nonetheless, silently, as if in prayer, Willa thought, “He cares about my own good; he’s all I’ve got, my only help, and hope, now that Clay is dead. Shamus, please come back. Tell me Lucy Wilson means nothing to you—nothing! That I’m all you think on, Shamus. Come and say it.”

  As her new pup barked, Willa
felt a pang in her stomach—bodily hunger and passionate desire. “Sandy, hush,” she told the forlorn pup before petting her gently, allowing the small animal to snuggle against her and to sleep with her.

  Around noon, Sneed arrived at Willa’s homestead. Willa felt a total sense of dread and a great emptiness flowing throughout her entire body. Her face went hot.

  Without warning, Sneed authoritatively opened the sod house’s door before Willa could open it herself. Now, Willa realized that Sneed possessed a sense of ownership over Willa and her meager belongings, that her home was no longer only hers. The doctor’s new expectation would not dissipate easily.

  As Sneed entered the house, little Sandy ran up to him, angrily barking, trying to claw Sneed’s legs. “Down, you tiny bitch. Down, I say.” At that, Sneed open the door and kicked the dog out of the house.

  “What’s this? An animal?” Sneed asked Willa.

  “Yes,” she said. “A dog that, when grown, might be an asset to this homestead.”

  Sneed sat down at the kitchen table, his short legs spread far apart. “Hmm…very well then.”

  “Sit,” the man said, slowly, simply.

  “No, sir. I must stand,” said Willa, almost blushing, smiling, as she thought of her sore behind and Shamus Harding’s strong hand on her bare ass the night before. Her insides felt as if they were melting.

  “Stand?’ You didn’t prepare coffee for me, Willa. You are bad and completely absent-minded.”

  Willa still stood, unfazed, in another world.

  “Very well,” Sneed continued. “I have a lunch date in town today, and you shall come along. Yes, you’ll love this opportunity I have in mind for you.” With sudden glee, Sneed went to Willa’s trunk, happily rummaging through Willa’s few clothes.

  “Now, sir,” Willa pleaded.

  “A lady? I’m sure that’s what you think you are. You are far from a lady, Willa. Not yet, girl—but we’ll make one of you yet, and soon. That is my professional promise to you, my duty. This is revolting,” Sneed said while examining a purple calico blouse, throwing it to the floor. “No good. No good at all.”

  Sneed repeated this process until he nearly emptied Willa’s trunk, leaving even her undergarments on the floor.

  “Doctor,” she said, astonished and embarrassed, “You’re making a mess.”

  “Well, Willa,” he retorted, “you’ll have the honor of cleaning this up in no time whatsoever. In fact, I suspect you’ll enjoy cleaning up after a man—that is something you will have to learn to do eventually, no doubt.”

  After unfolding a brown dress with a floral pattern, Sneed said, “This is interesting, so incredibly ugly.” He added the dress to the pile on the floor.

  “But, Dr. Sneed, I like that one,” said Willa.

  “You know nothing of the matter, child. But this—”

  Sneed pulled a simple blue dress from the trunk. “This is marvelous.”

  He threw the dress at Willa. “Put it on,” he said, brushing past her.

  “It’s so plain,” Willa insisted, baffled by Sneed’s choice.

  “Plain women, my lamb, are godly women. I’ll be waiting for you outside.”

  He left Willa alone to change, and she stood motionless in her room, wishing time would stop.

  The ride into town was mostly silent, with Willa riding sidesaddle next to Sneed on one of her mules.

  “Nothing but beef, stale beer, and disgusting whiskey out here,” Sneed said as they entered town. “I’d wager that I’m the only person in this town who’s had a taste of French cheese or fine red wine.”

  “Why then, doctor,” Willa replied, “would you leave such luxuries for this kind of life, this harshness? The barrenness?”

  Sneed rolled his eyes at Willa’s comments. “I am fulfilling my destiny, what God has asked of me in this forsaken place. Well, we’re here. My client awaits,” Sneed stated as they stopped in front of the town hotel. When the pair entered the dingy restaurant, the Pinnacle, Willa thought she recognized the back of a man’s head. When he turned around and sauntered toward Willa and Sneed, Willa wished she had her Remington on hand. She wished, too, that Shamus was nearby, guarding, protecting, invisible to all but her.

  “Good Dr. Sneed!” the man exclaimed.

  “Mr. Sorensen, thank you for inviting us to lunch.”

  “This is my absolute pleasure. Thank you for bringing the girl.”

  “Andy,” Willa blurted out suddenly, afraid. “I—”

  “Silence, girl,” Sneed chided, “this kind, loving man does not want, or need, your apologies for your trying to kill him.”

  “My,” said Andy, “how beautiful you are in that dress, Miss Freeman, how ladylike.”

  Andy grabbed Willa’s hand and kissed it. Willa felt droplets from Andy’s sloppy lips land on her hand, and she had to beat down the urge to recoil.

  “Stand still,” she thought to herself. “They cannot hurt you. Don’t be afraid.”

  “How marvelous your medicine is, sir,” Andy exclaimed. “She’s so much better, more beautiful, more submissive. All thanks to you.”

  “Let’s take our seats,” the doctor said, “and eat heartily—in celebration.”

  “Yes, I ordered for the two of you—not that there’s much choice here: beef, carrots, potatoes.”

  “I’d expect nothing less.” Sneed seemed convincingly pleased.

  As they sat, the barman brought out three plates.

  “Now, Willa, look at me as I talk to you, child,” Sneed said between bites. Willa looked at Sneed as he spoke, knowing that the townspeople could lock her up or even send her away if she protested. “Mr. Sorensen here has a generous offer for you. He would like to take your hand in marriage.”

  “I think,” pleaded Andy, “that we would be good together, Willa. Mother thinks so, too. Dear doctor, how can I ever repay you for this gift? You’ve made a man of me, and, moreover, a woman of Willa.”

  “My standard fees, Mr. Sorensen, are all an honorable physician like I can and shall take,” Sneed said.

  “But this is something else, something incredible. You’ve tamed her, Dr. Sneed—that once wild creature.”

  Willa sat there, looking for an escape and thinking about how Shamus’ strong hands had tamed and reassured her. Sneed, on the other hand, was only trying to lessen her, to make her a paper doll.

  “Perhaps, when you’re settled on your new homestead with your glowing bride, you can reward me also with a calf or one of that mighty stallion’s offspring,” Sneed said.

  Sorensen replied, “Done—done a thousand times over, Doctor.”

  “Well, Willa, what do you say to this? A resounding ‘yes’, I’ve no doubt.”

  Willa felt empty because Sneed and Sorensen were a threat to her; she feared she might not be able to escape the perception they had created about her, that of the ‘crazed and dangerous woman’. If she were in a body of water, she would heavily sink. “I,” she mustered the courage to finally say, wishing that Shamus were by her side, protecting her from these unscrupulous men. “I—I—”

  Then a voice reverberated throughout the room. “Sneed!” the voice exclaimed.

  “A savior,” Willa thought, hoping beyond hope that the strong figure of Shamus Harding would soon emerge from behind the doors.

  “Mr. Wilson,” Sneed said, surprised. “What is the meaning of this? I’m working with some clients.”

  “I think you know why I’m here,” Wilson stated, his eyes were angry and lingered on Sneed, almost threatening.

  “I haven’t the faintest idea why—”

  “Outside; now, Sneed.” Mr. Wilson took on a somber and sympathetic character when he looked at the bewildered Willa. “Ah, I heard that Mrs. Sorensen paid you, Sneed, to force her moronic boy on some poor woman. Miss Freeman, I hope you’re well today.” Mr. Wilson nodded in Willa’s direction.

  Sorensen spoke out, confused, “Mother gave you money, Doctor?”

  “Just a little, to help with the prelimina
ry arrangements. Standard practice. Mr. Wilson, let’s speak outside.”

  The moment Sneed and Mr. Wilson were out the door, Willa got up and ran out of the restaurant’s back door.

  “Miss Freeman,” Andy screamed after her, “come back, please. Please consider what you’re doing. Dr. Sneed will be most displeased when he comes back. I love you!”

  As Willa ran through the town, she noticed the various gazes she attracted from the townsfolk: some frightened by the sight of the wild woman, many concerned, and most sympathetic.

  “Miss Freeman!” A kind feminine voice stopped Willa in her tracks.

  Willa turned around and saw a slender woman exiting the general store.

  “Miss Freeman?” the voice questioned, again.

  A short, “Yes,” was all Willa could muster.

  “My name is Lucy Wilson.”

  “I have heard your name, ma’am.”

  “How? It seems that you have sequestered yourself after your poor brother’s death. You know, Miss Freeman—if you don’t mind my saying—most of us womenfolk really admire you, living on that homestead all by yourself, keeping everything in order for yourself in spite of your personal tragedy.”

  “That’s a tremendously kind thing of you to say. Dr. Sneed has mentioned your name; I suspect he wants me to become you.”

  Lucy’s face became concerned, her eyes narrowed, “And what has he said of me?”

  “He told me that you and Mr. Harding are engaged to be married.”

  “The trapper? What? What nonsense! I have hardly spoken to Mr. Harding, though my father seems to like him well enough, and he is handsome—Mr. Harding, that is. Let’s hope he’s not wicked; handsome men almost always are. Why would Simon Sneed say such a thing to you? Willa—” Lucy then took hold of Willa’s hand, “—watch yourself with that doctor. People in this town love him, but he’s not safe; he’s a devil if I’ve ever seen one.”