Miranda And The Ranch Hand (Domestic Discipline Romance) (3 page)

Mickey liked working the new horses with Miss Miranda. That’s why he didn’t quite understand Howie’s new orders that Dylan was in charge of breaking in the new horses. “Uh, Miss Miranda? Shouldn’t we wait for the new guy?”

Miranda laughed. “Not likely! Why on earth would we do that? Just bring out the colt and I’ll be out in a minute.”

When Miranda came out, Mickey already had the colt’s bit in and was holding tight to the long lead line. The colt eyed Miranda, looking jittery. The last two days they’d gotten the saddle on him, but he definitely didn’t like it. Miranda had gone easy, but now today it was time to be firm. She had to show the horse who was boss!

She started talking with a slightly firmer voice than she’d used with the mare. She told the colt everything she was going to do and slowly started putting the saddle on. The colt started dancing—he was already strong and willful. “You’re going to take me for a ride today, little one, whether you want to or not.”

Once the saddle was on, the colt settled again. Miranda went to get a mounting block. She brought it over and stepped up the first step. The horse tried to move away; Mickey had her on a short lead. Miranda kept talking, now in her most soothing tone. Another step—now she was eye to eye with the animal. She took the reins and pulled slightly—the horse fought her. She put a hand on the colt’s back and applied some weight. Again the horse tried to pull away, and then tried to buck the weight off.

Miranda could sense the defiance in the animal—she knew all about defiance—that desire to be free and master of one’s soul. “I’m not here to take your spirit, just guide it a little,” she crooned. It was time to try and mount. Slowly she put her leg over the animal’s back—the trick was to get her feet into the stirrups quickly, or she’d never hold her seat once the horse reacted to her weight.

“Get ready Mickey—he’s going to fight it!” Miranda settled down on the horse, and the colt bucked and kicked wildly. “Let out the lead—now!” Miranda held on for dear life, but was thrown almost immediately—right on her butt in the dirt.

“Are you all right?” Mickey called out, never letting go of the lead so the colt couldn’t trample Miranda.

“Yeah. Rein him in, we’re going again!” Miranda dusted off and came back at the colt, slowly again, but with an equally determined look.

Dylan was just coming over the rise toward the corral when he saw Miranda attempting to mount the colt the first time. He kicked Black Lighting into a gallop and headed straight for the corral. Was she out of her mind? At that moment he saw her go down, hard. That colt was nowhere near ready for a rider! At least, that’s what he thought after looking over the new horses and colts with David last night. She was bound and determined to break her damned neck!

Miranda was so focused on her conversation with the colt, she didn’t see or hear Dylan ride up. Mickey did though. He hadn’t met Dylan yet, but he figured this had to be him, and he didn’t look the least bit happy.

“Miss Miranda?” Miranda ignored him and kept her attention on the colt. “Uh… Miss Miranda.”

“Not now,” she whispered harshly, while still maintaining her focus on the colt. Just as she was about to sit down on the animal again, Dylan reached up and grabbed her hard around the waist. He pulled her off the mounting block.

“What the hell! Dylan, have you gone nuts?” This time she was too angry to notice any other feelings, but his anger equaled hers.

“That was my question! Do you have some kind of death wish I should know about?”

“What are you talking about? I’ve been working with this colt for a week now. He’s ready for a rider—and you just set us back at least a couple of days with your damn manhandling!”

Dylan was barely controlling his anger. “Well maybe you didn’t get the word, Miranda, but I decide when the new horses are ready for riders, and who that rider will be. And I can damn sure tell you, it’s not going to be you.”

“Oh really, and just who died and made you king? I’ve been breaking in horses on this ranch since I was fifteen—and no ranch hand is going to tell me what to do!”

“Well, maybe you ought to take that up with Marcus, because as of last night, these stables are
my
responsibility, and if you want to work with the horses, you’ll do it my way, by my rules!”

“Like hell I will! Marcus would never do that to me. In fact, you might as well pack your stuff, buddy, because after I talk to Marcus—you’re out of here!”

Miranda wrenched herself free of his hold and headed straight for the ranch house. Dylan started after her, surprised that somehow she was no longer in his grip. But then he stopped and decided this was one he should let her brother handle. He was too angry to deal with her now. Instead he turned to Mickey, and actually had to smile at the shocked look on the boy’s face.

“Pull the lead in a little. Let’s see if we can repair the damage that scene caused to this one’s attitude.”

Mickey complied. The horse was definitely skittish.

“I’m Dylan Wrightman, by the way… and that’s not the way I usually introduce myself to a frisky colt.”

“Mickey, Howie’s nephew. I guess I’m working for you, until I hear otherwise.”

Dylan actually laughed at that, and then turned his attention to the colt. Just like Miranda, he approached the animal slowly, talking all the while. He didn’t have quite the soothing voice she did, but Mickey saw the animal respond.

Miranda stormed into the house and directly to Marcus’s office, where she knew he’d be doing paperwork.

“Mandy, we missed you at…”

“That arrogant, presumptuous, domineering, bastard!” Miranda paced like a caged animal around the office.

Marcus sighed, with little patience for one of her temper tantrums this morning. “What has your brother done this time?”

“Not David, for God’s sake! Dylan Wrightman! The man is insufferable—you need to fire him immediately and get him off our ranch.”

“Sit down, Miranda, and settle down,” Marcus said in the quiet, controlled tone that usually got her attention.

“I’m too angry to sit. Do you know what that son-of-bitch claims?”

Now Marcus was standing. “Watch your language, young lady.”

“Marcus, will you listen to me?”

“Not until you calm down, and stop hissing like a cornered wildcat!”

Miranda plunged on, completely oblivious to the signs that Marcus was about at the end of the line with her. “Dylan claims you put him in charge of the stables. He actually had the gall to pull me off the colt I was about to mount. Then he says he’s in charge and he’ll decide how to break in the horses. He had the nerve to tell me—me! That I’m through breaking in horses. Who the hell is running things around here?” She was practically screaming now. As soon as she stopped pacing and turned to face Marcus, she knew she’d gone too far.

“Marcus… I…” She never got the chance to finish. Marcus came around the desk in two long strides, grabbed her arm and dragged her over to the straight-backed chair in the corner.

“Marcus—no!” Her anger was now desperation. “Please, don’t! I’m sorry—I just—”

“Not as sorry as you’re going to be, little girl. You’ve been asking for it since you got back!” He pulled her down across his rock hard thighs, somehow managing to undo her jeans as he hauled her across his knee.

“No! You can’t! Please!” But her pleas went unheeded as he ripped down her pants and drawers and brought his strong hand down across her bare bottom with a loud smack. It all happened so fast Miranda wasn’t even fighting him until the first smack landed on her backside, which was already a little tender from her landing when she was thrown off the colt.

She started kicking and screaming—trying to get off his lap—as the next volley of stinging slaps rained down. “Stop! Ow, that hurts! Please, Oh... Ouch! Marcus! Let me go!” But Marcus had her firmly around the waist and continued his fast paced strikes—somehow managing to smack even harder.

“Keep kicking like that and we’ll be here all day!” he warned.

She tried to stop, but couldn’t help it—her cries of pain were now drowned by her tears. The pain grew in intensity with each slap, as Marcus concentrated his blows on the sensitive area where her cheeks met her thighs.

Her bottom was burning up—like the hot leather of a black saddle sitting in the summer sun, but he didn’t let up. “Marcus, please. I can’t take anymore,” she choked out between sobs. “I’m sorry—please stop!” She was sobbing as if her heart would break, and most of the fight had left her. When Marcus sensed her capitulation, he gave her five more hard smacks and then stopped.

“Are you ready to behave and listen now,” he asked softly, as he rubbed her back. She was still sobbing uncontrollably. “Mandy, answer me.”

“Yes,” came a very small voice with a sniff. Marcus smiled. She sounded just like she was ten years old again.

“Marcus?”

“Yes, Mandy.”

“My butt’s on fire!”

He turned her over and cradled her on his lap. “It’s supposed to be—obviously, it’s been much too long since you’ve had that bottom spanked.”

She looked up at him through her tears and saw the love and forgiveness she now craved. “I guess so, I certainly had forgotten how strong and hard your hand was!”

“Now, about Dylan.”

She groaned.

“Do we need another session with my strong, hard hand doing the talking?”

“No, no. Definitely not. I’m listening. About Dylan?” she asked quickly.

“The fact of the matter is, I did put him in charge of the stables.”

“But why,” she whined.

“Mandy—”

“All right, I’m sorry. I’m listening.”

“Dylan came with some great recommendations, and when David took him through the stables and the back grazing fields, he was a natural with the horses. He sized most of them with just a quick look over, and was right on the money. David told me he’d be right to oversee the new horses. We’ve been looking for someone to free you up, so you’d have more time to get your clinic going.”

Miranda sat quietly for a few minutes as new tears flowed unchecked. “Marcus, I’ve been such a brat. I’m so sorry. I can’t believe you did this for me.”

“We happen to love you, brat, and we’re proud of you. We do believe in your abilities, and we know you can succeed. But you can’t keep up at the pace you’ve been going—spending all morning and afternoon breaking in the new horses, and then late into the night setting up the clinic. You’re not getting enough rest, and you’re skipping meals on a regular basis. That all ends—today!”

“Yes, sir!”

“Don’t get sassy with me, young lady. You can go right back over my knee without any trouble!”

“All right—all right. I got it. But I still want to spend some time working with the horses. You know that’s my passion. Will you at least talk to Dylan, and tell him I know what I’m doing?”

He set her off his lap and helped her with her pants, smiling at the hiss of pain as the rough denim came up and was buttoned tightly over her toasted buns. “You know, if you’d dress like a girl, you wouldn’t have that problem!”

“Yeah. You really want me mucking out the barn in my silk and velvet suits you paid a fortune for? Plus full skirts and petticoats are so practical for working the horses or tending sick cattle!”

Marcus just shook his head. “I’ll talk to Dylan, but you’re still going to have to show him you know which end of the horse is up. And his word is law down there. I want you focused on your health and the health of our animals, and I don’t want you breaking your neck any more than he does!”

“I still think he’s arrogant and domineering.”

“And you’re bratty and stubborn! Sounds like a perfect match. Now go upstairs and lie down, you look like you’re ready to collapse on your feet.”

She walked stiffly out of the office, trying to rub some of the sting out of her bottom. David came in the house for lunch, and grinned at the sight of her vigorous rubbing, and muttering something about not losing his touch. “I see Marcus’s fuse blew before mine! It was only a matter of time to see which one of us was going to tan your britches first!”

Miranda glared at him. “Not another word, or I might just have to shoot you!”

David laughed. “All right, how about a lift up the stairs? It’s painful to watch you walk.” With that, he picked her up and carried her up the stairs into her bedroom, and then plopped her on the bed.

“Ow!” she cried as her bottom hit the mattress. She immediately jumped up.

“Sorry.”

“Thank you for the ride, but you can go now, you nut!” At least she was smiling again. He figured Marcus must have given her quite a licking if she was so sore that sitting on the featherbed hurt.

“Get some rest, sis. It’ll improve your temperament,” he said as he left the room. He closed the door just in time to miss the pillow aimed at his head.

Miranda awoke early the next morning—Saturday morning. She rolled over onto her back and was immediately reminded of why she’d slept on her stomach. Her backside wasn’t really sore anymore, just a little tender, enough to bring back the entire scene in her brother’s office yesterday. She hadn’t been spanked since before she left to go out East, and Marcus had made sure she was fully reminded of the experience.

As much as she hated to admit it, she had deserved every bit of what she got. She had been on a short fuse since she returned—frustrated by the lack of acceptance of her vet skills, and still being treated like Marcus and David’s kid sister, instead of a grown woman.

Oh, and what a good job she’d done proving she was an adult—throwing temper tantrums and generally acting like a spoiled brat! David was right. It was amazing neither of them had tanned her butt before yesterday.

She got up and decided she’d skip her morning ride. She was going to stay away from the stables and corral altogether today. Coward! It wasn’t the stables she was avoiding, it was Dylan. Somehow, she knew he’d find out what happened, and she couldn’t bear the thought of his self-satisfied look. She was sure he’d take great satisfaction in her discomfort. He was already convinced she was a spoiled brat who needed nothing more than a trip across a man’s knee.

Just thinking about him and the groveling she was going to have to do after yesterday’s shouting match in the corral was getting her all heated up. But she was still confused by her feelings. She tried to blame all these sensations she felt when she thought about him as anger—but deep down she knew there was more to it.

Shaking off her unwanted thoughts, she decided she would just stay around the ranch house this morning and help Jenna with the pies and breads they were taking to the Townsends’ barbeque this afternoon.

As she walked into the kitchen wearing a cotton shirtwaist and skirt, both Marcus and David just stared. “Hey, Marcus… get a look at that—our sister is really a girl after all.”

“What? No morning ride this morning, Mandy?”

“All right guys, have your fun!” She grabbed a cup of coffee off the stove and went to sit at the table. When she pulled out her chair, there was a big pillow on it. She looked up to see both her brothers trying to hide their laughter. They hadn’t put a pillow on her chair after a spanking since she was a little girl. “If you gentlemen think I’m too proud to use this, just think again!” And down she sat carefully. They all laughed—it was the way mornings were supposed to be at the Rollins household.

Their housekeeper Jenna had been with them since Marcus was born, and she was delighted to see the relaxed bantering. Things had been a little tense since Mandy’s return as she tried to find her place now as a grown woman. She loved them all like her own and hated when there was discord in the house. She knew that more than once Marcus had regretted sending Mandy to her Aunt, but it was good for the girl.

“So, Mandy, does this attire mean that you’ll actually work your way up to a real dress for the barbeque?”

“Keep it up, David, and I just may wear my work britches!”

“Now I bet that’d be a sight John, Jr. would like to see.” David grinned wickedly.

Miranda’s face heated up quickly. “What John sees and doesn’t see is none of your business.”

Marcus looked at her with a mock glare. “If that boy sees more than he’s supposed to, it damn well will be my business!”

“Oh for goodness sake, relax, Marcus. John and I are the best of friends—nothing more.”

“Yeah, well, I’d bet this week’s pay he doesn’t see it that way,” David teased.

“Can we please change the subject?”

Marcus was actually pleased at her embarrassment. He always thought John would be a good match for Miranda, but hadn’t figured she saw him that way. He let it go for now. “Actually, we do need to talk about the longhorns. David and I are both going up on the round up. It’ll probably take us 5 to 6 days to get up to the far north pastures, and then drive the head down to the summer grazing land.”

“Sure you won’t come with us, Mandy?” David asked. “The spring round-up hasn’t been the same without you the last few years.”

“You just miss my cooking. I’ve had your skillet biscuits, and they taste like buffalo chips—whereas mine are as fluffy as the clouds on a Texas spring morning!”

“Yeah, well, your campfire coffee is like drinking mud!”

“And you snore loud enough to bring every bear and coyote within a hundred miles down on camp!”

“My snoring is nothing compared to the screeching you call singing—I’ve heard wolves howl more in tune!”

“Enough!” Marcus roared, then he laughed. “You two sound like six-year-olds scrapping in the schoolyard.” Miranda and David looked at each other and burst out laughing.

Then she said, “I’ve only been back in the saddle for a few weeks. I don’t think I’m quite ready for six days of non-stop riding, and then nights sleeping on the ground. Besides, I want to keep working on the clinic, and Greybell is about to foal any day—and it looks to be breech.”

“Howie, Mickey and Dylan will stay, along with a couple of the other hands to run things here with you. When you need help, ask for it. But Miranda, with the trouble we’ve been having, I’m worried. So watch yourself—please don’t go riding way out by the boundaries by yourself. Now don’t get your dander up—I know you can take care of yourself, but these renegades who are killing cattle and horses are mean cusses. They slaughter the animals, and I don’t think they’d hesitate to the same to anyone who got in their way.”

“We’ll be fine—don’t worry. I’ll stay close to the ranch house. But I don’t suppose you’d consider taking Dylan, just to keep him out of my hair?”

“You know, Mandy, the way you’re so preoccupied with Dylan, one might think you have a thing for the man,” David teased.

“That conceited ba…”

“Mandy!” Marcus barked.

Mandy snapped her mouth closed at his warning.

Marcus got up to leave, motioning to his brother. “Come on, we’ve got a lot of work to do before the barbeque, if we’re going to leave at dawn tomorrow. Are you staying in this morning, Mandy?”

“Yeah, I thought I’d give Jenna a hand with the food.”

“All right, we’ll see you later. We’ll leave around three.”

Miranda spent a busy, but fun morning with Jenna in the kitchen, and then went up to get ready. She was really looking forward to the barbeque. It would be the first party since her return, and there was no social occasion in New York that came close to a big Texas barbeque. Marcus and David had wanted to throw a party when she came home, but she had discouraged it. She hadn’t been ready to be overwhelmed by all her neighbors, especially since she knew she’d feel like she was the one roasting on the spit for everyone to see, instead of the side of beef!

As she stepped into her bath, she was thinking carefully about what she’d wear. She wanted to look special—like the woman she was, not the tomboy kid most of them still thought of her as. She knew John was mostly teasing when he asked her to be his date, but she also felt there was something more than friendship behind the offer. It was time to find out.

John was her best friend. They had grown up together. Many of her best adventures and misadventures had been with him. Their parents had been good friends, and when hers were killed, the Townsends had been there as sort of surrogates for her and her brothers. She definitely wasn’t in any hurry to engage her heart again after having it broken so badly by that Yankee snob of a classmate, but she would trust her life with John, and maybe even her heart.

An hour later when she headed downstairs, she wore a simple, but elegant taffeta dress the color of freshly churned butter. It fell off her shoulders and the close-fitting bodice was laced with pale green ribbon. Her auburn hair was pulled back loosely and cascaded down her back in a mass of shiny curls barely held in check by the same color ribbons. She had her mother’s pearls at her neck and looked every bit a lady.

As she came down, David whistled. “Wow, sis! You look like a field of wild buttercups just kissed by the morning dew.” She looked at him expecting to see a teasing twinkle in his eye, but it wasn’t there. His appreciation was genuine, and she blushed.

Marcus walked to her to take her arm. “You look beautiful, Mandy. Ma would be proud if she could see you now.” Miranda looked into his eyes glowing with pride and had to blink away sudden tears.

“Let’s get going before this gets downright mushy!”

They went out to the waiting buggy, and there were Howie and his wife in their wagon, a few of the other hands on horseback, and Dylan. It was the first time Miranda had seen him since their dust-up in the corral, and he looked incredibly handsome in his black jacket, crisp white shirt and string tie—along with his tight fitting jeans and shined up boots. It was all topped off by gray Stetson that set-off his blue eyes. It was a minute before she realized she was staring. He tipped his hat in an exaggerated gesture that said more ‘I’m still here’ than ‘Howdy, ma’am’.

Heat suffused Miranda’s face and she hurried toward the buggy. It would have pleased her no end to know he was equally bothered. In fact, he felt like he’d been sucker punched when she walked out. She was stunning! He’d never seen her in anything other than riding skirts or work clothes. He had thought of the barbeque as a perfect opportunity to talk with some of the other cowhands and find out everything he could about the animal attacks, but he was going to have a hard time concentrating on anything with Miranda looking like that.

When they arrived at Towns End ranch, the sounds and smells told them the shindig was well underway, and going to be a hell of a Texas party. The aroma of the roasting beef mingled with the smells of fresh baked breads and desserts, and there was the spicy smell of the hottest chili you’d find this side of the border. The music of the fiddlers competed with the laughter and chatter of children.

Miranda was immediately caught up in the welcoming chaos—embraced by friends and neighbors she hadn’t seen since she’d been back. John found her and they headed to the wooden platform set-up for dancing. Miranda loved the square dances of her youth, and quickly fell into the familiar steps, laughing as John whirled her around the floor. But John didn’t get to keep her as a partner long. She was in demand as a dance partner, and of course both of her brothers expected a turn on the floor.

The party was in full swing as Dylan headed to the sounds of the music and caller’s steps. He hadn’t learned much more than he already knew about the animal killings except that all the area ranches had been hit, and the attacks were brutal. But there was no sign of the varmints who were making the raids. The cowboys didn’t think it was Indians because they wouldn’t leave slaughtered animal carcasses—they’d take the meat and skins. These renegades were trying to make a point—or were just plain evil.

Dylan was brought out of his thoughts as a swish of yellow passed by. Miranda was in the arms of John Townsend, whirling across the dance floor, her eyes sparkling and her head thrown back in laughter. A flash of jealousy struck Dylan. Where had that come from? He couldn’t help himself. He headed to the dance floor with every intention of being Miranda’s next partner.

As she started to leave the dance floor, arm in arm with John, Dylan stepped in her way. “May I have this dance?” he asked smoothly.

She looked at him, her cheeks flushed with the last hour of kicking up her heels. Not even Dylan Wrightman could ruin her mood now. “Sure, cowboy, if you think you can manage not to trample my toes!”

“Oh, I think I can manage.” He put his arm loosely around her waist and led her back to the dance floor.

Of course at that moment the band decided to slow things down, and Miranda found herself being held close for a waltz. His touch was light, but firm, as he led her gracefully around the dance floor. Miranda was very aware of every movement of his body and hands. When she looked up into his eyes, they were smoldering, but not with the anger she was used to seeing. She tried to look away, but he tipped her head back up.

“You look beautiful,” he whispered.

She blushed crimson, and then was annoyed at how pleased she felt at the compliment. “You cleanup pretty well, yourself, and I must say I prefer this hold to your usual manhandling. It’s much less bruising!”

He laughed out loud at that. “Well, if you’d act more like a lady, and less like a brat, I wouldn’t have to manhandle you.” He purposely moved his hand over her bottom as he said it. That broke the spell. Miranda eyes flashed, and then she saw her opportunity to get even.

“John,” she called out across the dance floor, “come switch partners. Dylan here wants to meet your cousin!” Dylan was too surprised to react, and suddenly found himself looking down at a blushing young girl with pigtails and freckles. “Dylan, this is Mary Beth—she’s thirteen and this is the first year she’s allowed to join the adults dancing.” Then Miranda whispered in his ear, “She’s also a little boy crazy, and she’s been eyeing you, so be nice.” With that she laughed and was whirled away, back in John’s arms. She shot a look a triumph back at Dylan and he nodded slightly acknowledging her minor victory—this time. Then he turned his attention to the young girl looking up at him with doe eyes.

“Don’t worry, John,” Miranda said. “Dylan may be a pain in the ass to me, but he’ll treat your cousin with all the gentleness he bestows on a young colt.” Miranda wasn’t even sure why she knew that, she just did. “Come on, I’m worn out. Let’s go for a walk.”