Willa and the Trapper

by Sharon Ryan

  “No, I want to talk.”

  Willa flashed Suzie some silver coins.

  “A talker is always better than a time waster. What is it you want to talk about?”

  Willa handed Suzie some of Shamus’ money and again she felt guilt surge through her.

  “You say,” said Willa as she nodded to Sorensen who was taking a shot of whiskey, “that I’m as rich as that man over there. Who is he? Maybe he and I can help each other out.”

  “That’s Mr. Sorensen, he’s something of a big shot around town, going to get into politics soon.”

  “You don’t say?” Willa handed Suzie a few more coins, all while pretending to be surprised. “How does one get so wealthy?”

  “I shouldn’t say, sir. Mr. Sorensen pays me well. He mostly just enjoys talking like you do, too. And he sometimes likes to get drunk and cry.”

  Again, Willa produced some coins for Suzie. She noticed the smell of whiskey on Suzie’s breath.

  “Well,” Suzie said, “he pays men to go all around Colorado. At night, Mr. Sorensen’s men gather cattle and then relocate them to ranchers out of state, in places like Wyoming or Montana. I think he’s not too proud of it. I wouldn’t be, but it’s the work his dead daddy did, he told me. It’s all he knows to keep nice things for him and his mama. He seems under stress lately, like he’s doubled his operation to get more money.”

  This was all Willa needed to hear. She excused herself to go to the bathroom, but she instead ran out the back door. She wanted to be away from that place; she needed to be home, and she wanted to apologize once more to Sandy for taking her hair and leaving her with a bald patch.

  Willa had never in her life felt this kind of exhilaration; she had fooled the men at the brothel. She had passed as a young man and hoped her information regarding Sorensen’s sordid affairs would make Shamus proud of her, or that it would at the very least make him happy. Of course, Sorensen’s money came from theft. Willa felt nothing short of giddy as she approached the sod house.

  “Excuse me, young man!” Willa heard a familiar voice, and her heart rose with happiness and surprise. “Who are you? You lost? What, might I ask, are you doing lurking around my house? My wife is in there. What do you mean by this? I swear on all that is holy, if you… if you so much as got a peep of my wife, I’ll strangle you myself.”

  “Shamus!” Willa shouted. Her voice, made deeper by the brothel’s second-hand smoke, was full of glee.

  She ran to her husband, whose red face signified absolute anger, and she simply embraced him, but when she moved her mouth to his, Shamus pushed her away.

  “You’re crazy, man,” said the agitated, perturbed Shamus.

  “Darling,” Willa blurted out, “it’s me, my love, and you’ve finally returned to me. I have news about Andy, all of which will help you win the nomination.”

  She then ripped the makeshift mustache from her upper lip and removed the hat, her long hair now carried by a slight breeze. Then, she gleaned the sudden horror on Shamus’ face.

  “Willa, you fool!” Shamus exclaimed. “You’ve certainly lost your damn mind this time, haven’t you?”

  Chapter 16

  Shamus sat at the kitchen table. “Willa, what did you do to this poor pup?” he asked, stroking Sandy’s small bald spot, unable to conceal the horror on his face.

  “Did you not hear what I said about Andy and the cattle?” cried Willa, still clad in trousers and an oversized coat. “Thanks to me you can now ruin him.”

  “I don’t care about Andy. He’s not my concern. And, at any rate, wife, I am more than able to handle my own battles.”

  “Oh, and I’ll wager you don’t even care that so many of these stupid townsfolk are talking about our marriage, Shamus—saying that you ran off and left me.”

  Shamus sat rubbing his temples, wishing he could hide his anger. Nonetheless, he was beyond rage, beyond screaming and shouting.

  “Willa,” he finally blurted out. “Did it ever occur to you that if word gets out that you went to town with a mustache made from dog fur that the townspeople will just talk more? And they’d be justified in what they say about your insanity.”

  “I did this for you.”

  Again, Shamus did not speak. He simply stood up slowly his large figure looming over Willa. He stared at her for a few moments, long, hard and deep.

  Then, without her realizing what was happening, she was once again lying over her husband’s knee with her trousers sagging limply around her ankles, her ass totally exposed and at Shamus’ mercy.

  She could feel and hear Shamus’ heavy breathing. Then came a hard swat; it knocked the breath out of Willa and sent a shiver down between her legs. Then came another. And then another. Each strike created a sting so powerful that Willa lost count of how many swats she had received.

  Willa looked at Shamus and said, “Please stop!” This time, Willa sensed that Shamus’ disciplining hand felt different, sterner. “I realize that I crossed a line.”

  Immediately, Shamus stayed his hand and muttered, “I adore you, Willa, but I’m beyond this. No more of this reckless behavior—for my sake and yours.”

  As Shamus put Willa back on her feet, Willa woefully reflected that she wished that she had intentionally provoked Shamus’ anger, as that would have made the stinging enjoyable.

  After a fitful four hours’ rest, Willa finally sighed heavily and hauled herself gingerly out of bed. Her backside burned with the raw sting Shamus’ hand laid on it last night, but her heart hurt even more. Willa thought back on the previous night’s events. She was elated at being able to pass under Sorensen’s nose and not be recognized, and happy she was able, with such ease, to trick Suzi into divulging incriminating information about Sorensen’s illicit activities. Willa was proud of herself for getting the information necessary to land Sorensen into a heap of trouble and thereby shut up his horrible gossiping. Shamus was not impressed.

  Ever since Shamus went out of town, Willa had imagined, several times each day, her reunion with Shamus. Her thoughts of her husband had been a part of everything she did, and she missed him sorely even when she was angry about his leaving. His return last night didn’t meet her expectations. This morning, Willa felt devastated that Shamus appeared to have made assumptions about what she was up to and then had punished her, all the while telling her that his heavy-handed swats were for her own good!

  Willa glared at Shamus’ sleeping form. His naked back was to her, and all she could see to distinguish him from a bunch of flour sacks under the quilt was his auburn hair and marble-like skin. Willa was glad she couldn’t see his face, his fiery scruff. It was easier to stay angry when he was turned away from her; in fact, his being turned away wasn’t any different from how most of their marriage had gone. He had been absent; there was no disputing that.

  Willa quietly slipped on the clothes she’d worn to disguise herself at the brothel and stoked up the wood stove so that the small house would be warm when she came back inside from doing chores. “Still my chores,” she muttered. Sandy lifted her sleepy head from between the folds in the quilt. “It’s not like he’ll be much help,” she thought, looking again at Shamus.

  “Come on, girl,” Willa called quietly. “Let’s go do chores.”

  Sandy yawned and settled back into the warmth of the bed next to Shamus. Willa smiled at the pup’s decision as she opened the door. Had things gone the way Willa had imagined, she, too, would be curled up next to Shamus’ warm body.

  The dawn was just starting to reveal itself, and it lent Willa the light she needed to complete her chores. It was cold this morning, and she had to break up ice so that the horses, mule and Buttercup could get a drink. This time of year, Willa broke ice several times during the day to keep the water exposed for the livestock.

  Once Buttercup was tied to the fence post and enjoying her portion of seed corn, Willa carefully sat down on the milking stool.

  “It’s really cold this morning, and I know, Buttercup, that you want to ge
t back to the lean-to and bed down to get warm. Before you go, however, I’d appreciate a kind ear,” Willa said.

  Buttercup swiveled back the ear nearest Willa, who took it as an invitation to continue.

  “Shamus is back, Buttercup. My husband is home, and he is angry with me. I am heartbroken. I’ve waited so long for his return. Now, it’s all wrong, and I don’t know what to do about it,” Willa sighed.

  The gentle cow swished her tail against Willa, who took it as a playful slap, and Willa’s eyes brightened.

  “You’re right, girl. I just need to make him feel welcome and at home. We can work out the misunderstanding once he has settled in a bit,” she said as she unbuckled Buttercup’s halter, and the Jersey cow plodded back to her warm straw.

  “I’ll make him a nice breakfast and tell him I’d like to start over fresh,” Willa thought as she grabbed the pail of milk. She had six fresh eggs in her pocket and knew that along with some leftover cornbread, she would have more than enough for a filling breakfast.

  Shamus felt like he was unable to move because he was so tired. He had ridden straight through from Denver, eagerly wanting to see his wife. He couldn’t get back to Willa fast enough to surprise her. As he reflected upon his homecoming, Shamus realized he should have gotten himself back home sooner – much sooner.

  Shamus had heard Willa rise and get herself ready to go outside. He felt a tad guilty for letting her assume the duty of the chores this morning, especially since he was now home. Still, he was angry about finding her acting so recklessly once again. Furthermore, Shamus had let his eyes travel over the disarray that was his home. While Willa was outside, he was able to make note of numerous pockets of chaos she had allowed to spill out into bigger messes.

  “I’ll once more have to remind the lass about the tidiness standards,” he sighed as he made up his mind to go over his expectations after breakfast.

  Willa came inside, slung her chore coat over the back of a chair and got the coffee started to boil on a back burner. She was glad she had stoked the fire before she went outside. The house was warm and cozy, and the stove was hot and ready to cook with. Willa took the plates and forks down from the shelves near the stove and set them on the table. She heard Shamus stir. She didn’t look up, but rather turned back to the stove, cracked the eggs into a greased cast iron skillet and then cut large squares of cornbread from a baking pan. She walked over to the pantry shelves and selected a jar of apple butter.

  By the time Willa moved back to the stove, Shamus was seated at the table wearing only his trousers and a blanket wrapped around his shoulders. Willa could see his bare chest, the russet spray of chest hair, strong shoulders, and the sensuous dip of his collarbone. His body looked so robust, and Willa felt desire for him flame throughout her entire body.

  “Oh, my,” she murmured as she looked up to see his dark blue eyes fixed upon her. Willa flushed and gave him an uncertain smile as she turned back to the hot skillet.

  Shamus didn’t say anything as he watched her work. Willa plated the food, poured the coffee and spooned some fresh cream into a little pitcher before she arranged all of it on the table. She put a plate in front of Shamus.

  “Good morning,” she said as she handed him a steaming cup of coffee.

  “Good morning,” Shamus returned, feeling his bad mood start to thaw. His wife, his lass, his Willa, was lovelier than he had been able to recall all the while he was gone.

  “We got off to a bad start,” Willa began as she buttered her cornbread.

  Shamus opened the jar of apple butter, and offering it to her, nodded in agreement.

  “I think we should start over,” Willa suggested.

  “Agreed,” Shamus said, and then heartily attacked his breakfast. “This is the best food I’ve had in weeks,” he said, smiling.

  Once they had eaten, Willa set the kettle to boil so that she could get the dishes washed. Shamus intended to help her, and while the water warmed up, he motioned for Willa to come over to him. When she did, he pulled her onto his lap and began to nuzzle her neck.

  “That tickles,” Willa giggled.

  “A tickle is the least I have in mind for you, Mrs. Harding,” Shamus said, his eyes dancing. “I think we should tidy this place up and spend the rest of the day by the warm stove and under our quilt.”

  “Maybe we don’t need to tidy up first,” Willa suggested.

  Shamus had become accustomed to attending to business immediately while he was gone. He also found himself feeling edgy in the disheveled environment Willa had created.

  “No, let’s get this mess taken care of,” he said as he waved his arm around the room. “Then, we can settle in for the day and for each other.”

  Immediately, he felt Willa’s body stiffen, and Shamus realized, too late, that he had misspoken. Willa’s demeanor had changed from playfulness to fury. She jumped up and stood over Shamus.

  “What do you mean by ‘this mess’?” Willa said as she mimicked his waving.

  “This chaos you call home!” he replied as he jumped up.

  “How dare you!”

  “How dare I? I leave you alone for a few months only to come home to find you galivanting around dressed as a boy!” Shamus growled. “The house is a wreck, Willa. It’s nothing close to the standards we discussed before I left.”

  Willa backed up a few steps, so she could size up Shamus’ entire form. Then she leveled her chin and looked directly into his eyes.

  “Your standards, now? Let me tell you what I think about your standards! I refuse to allow you to lecture me about how tidy this place is! First of all, I didn’t know when you would even deem it necessary to come home from showing off to everyone about how important you think you are!” Willa yelled.

  Shamus stared at her, completely flabbergasted. Showing off? If anything, his time in Denver had left him feeling incompetent.

  “Furthermore,” Willa continued, “you married me, helped me, and then left me to do everything all by myself just like I had to before I even met you! You weren’t here to consult or lend a hand, so I had to figure things out for myself! How dare you come in here and tell me my efforts weren’t good enough!”

  “But the men’s clothing, Willa…” Shamus stammered. “People will talk.”

  “They already are talking. I had to do something to get the goods on Sorensen to make all that talking stop!” Willa said as she felt tears begin to well up in the corners of her eyes. She moved to brush past him, but he caught her in his arms.

  Willa started to fight him, but he held her so close that she knew it would do her no good to struggle. There they stood, Willa caged in his embrace, for what seemed like an eternity. Softly, Shamus kissed the top of Willa’s head.

  “You are right,” he murmured into her ear. “You are so right, and I am so sorry, Willa. I have neglected you and our marriage.”

  “More like abandoned,” she shot back.

  “No, not abandoned because I am here now,” he said as he scooped her up into his arms and carried her over to their bed. “Willa, I’m giving up on this silly charade. I don’t want to be in politics. I was confused and frustrated. All I could think on while I was in Denver was your beautiful face. I want to be right here—with you. I wanted to do a nice thing for this damned community, but it seems like I leave, and so many vile tongues start demeaning you, my love, who has already been through so much. No more. I’ll tell Mr. Wilson and the governor that being with my wife is more important to me, that I don’t want people opening their ugly mouths about my family. Mr. Wilson can find someone else.”

  Shamus then buried his face into Willa’s hair and began kissing her neck until he could feel the tension melt from her body; then he kissed her deeply, possessively, until Willa melted.

  “Oh, my,” she whispered as she hungrily kissed him back, assured that Shamus would not leave her again.

  Shamus sat on the edge of the bed, and with Willa on his lap, unbuttoned the too-large shirt. Opening it, he trailed kisses
down Willa’s neck and chest. Holding one breast, he put his mouth over her nipple and swirled his tongue around it.

  Willa gasped, and Shamus worked open her belt and the fly of her trousers. He reached beneath the fabric to find her wet and wanting him.

  Willa moaned and squirmed as he moved his hand against her. She then reached for the buttons on his trousers to return the delicious sensations she was feeling. Shamus groaned as Willa wrapped her hand around his hardened shaft. The tension in his body was so great, he was certain he would explode.

  Willa pulled him to her as she lay back on the bed. He was eager to let her lead him as she scrambled to pull him on top of her. Again, he kissed her deeply. Again, she kissed him back, and as he moved into her, she uttered a deep and primal moan. Spurred on by her eagerness, he moved inside her. The feelings of intensity created by their separation, the fire brought on by their argument, the desire to reconcile, all became too much. Willa and Shamus simultaneously shuddered from their respective release. Both were overcome by emotion. Only Willa cried, whimpering softly, happily.

  “I love you,” Shamus whispered as he kissed away her tears. And at that moment, Shamus was happy about his decision to get out of politics. Gracefully or not, Shamus would resign immediately, for he knew his place was here with his wife. His purpose was to stand beside Willa, and he would do so with great pride.

  “It was unfair of me,” said Mr. Wilson the day after Shamus’ return, “to intrude upon your marriage by asking you to run for office, my friend. This was never your cross to bear, Shamus.”

  Before Shamus had met with Mr. Wilson and Joe at the Pinnacle, the place where this ridiculous journey into local politics began, Shamus had anticipated making a long speech. He thought he’d have to justify his decision. Shamus was, no doubt, a man of honor, a man as solid as his word. Yet, here was Mr. Wilson, offering Shamus an out.