Surrendered on the Frontier

BOOK: Surrendered on the Frontier
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Table of Contents

Chapter One: A Memorable Encounter

Chapter Two: Tossed into a Loft

Chapter Three: Temper Brewing

Chapter Four: The Spanking

Chapter Five: Chased and Caught

Chapter Six: New Life

Chapter Seven: “Who’s the One in Charge Here?”

Chapter Eight: A Predicament

Chapter Nine: Everything Precious to Me

Epilogue

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Surrendered on the Frontier

 

 

By

 

Jane Henry

 

Copyright © 2016 by Stormy Night Publications and Jane Henry

 

 

 

 

Copyright © 2016 by Stormy Night Publications and Jane Henry

 

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

 

Published by Stormy Night Publications and Design, LLC.

www.StormyNightPublications.com

 

 

Henry, Jane

Surrendered on the Frontier

 

Cover Design by Korey Mae Johnson

Images by The Killion Group and 123RF/Vaclav Volrab

 

 

 

This book is intended for
adults only
. Spanking and other sexual activities represented in this book are fantasies only, intended for adults.

Chapter One: A Memorable Encounter

 

 

My heart thundered in my chest, my eyes still adjusting to the darkness of the bedroom as I woke with a start. Wiping a hand across my brow, I sat up, thankful the details of my dream were fading already. I’d worked hard to bury those memories.

When our house had burnt to the ground, set ablaze by my husband’s own hands, and he had been shot to death a short time later, we were taken in by the Stanley family. Ma, the matriarch of the brood, lived with her sons Matthew and Samuel. Matthew, at twelve years old, was just four years older than my eight-year-old Hannah. I was only twenty-three years old, and Samuel three years my senior.

The townsfolk had done a regular house-raising for us, and now we were the proud owners of a brand new home. There was a small window in my room—a rarity in the cabins on the plains, but Samuel, my neighbor and friend, had insisted I have one when our new home was built.

“Flowers need light to grow,” he’d said. And so the men raising our house had put in a window. I’d heard Geraldine, Samuel’s sister-in-law, grumble that she didn’t have a window in her bedroom, and my friend Pearl had told her to hush. Now, as I lay in bed, I saw the faintest trace of morning light peeking through the window that Samuel had given me. It was just before daybreak.

I tiptoed to the front room after dressing. Hannah didn’t need to wake for another hour, and she was a good girl. She’d get up and get ready for school and do her chores. We’d breakfast together, and I’d go about my day. But first, I needed to fetch water. I liked the early morning quiet.

I hummed quietly to myself, walking along the path that led to the woods, but ceased humming as the creek drew near. I didn’t want to miss the low coo of the mourning dove, a familiar sound that brought me comfort. In the distance came the telltale banging of a woodpecker and the soft twitter of a songbird.

“Ain’t right for a woman to be out about these parts alone.”

I nearly jumped out of my skin at the voice behind me. My bucket clattered to the ground.

“Land’s sake, you don’t have to scare me out of my wits,” I muttered, though my cheeks flushed slightly. Samuel’s serious, cornflower blue eyes peeked at me from beneath his wide-brimmed hat, his lightly bearded jaw clenched as he stood behind me with his arms folded across his chest.

My heart still danced in my chest, and the fright made me angry. As he picked up my bucket, I swiped a hand at him, trying to snatch it back. His hand shot out and he grasped my wrist just before my hand brushed his. His brows lifted ever so slightly and he shook his head at me with a frown.

“Now, little Ruth, you be a good girl,” he chided, his voice dropping an octave. “There’s no need for you to be losin’ your temper.”

“I’m not a
girl
,
Samuel,” I said haughtily. “I’m a woman, one who’s been fetching her water by the creek alone for years. Now hand me my bucket.”

“You didn’t fetch water by the creek when you lived with me.”

“Only because you wouldn’t let me, but you can’t stop me now.”

Another small shake of his head. “Is that right?”

“Give me my bucket!” I said, anger rising.

His frown deepened. “Say please.”

Oh, the audacity! I fumed and tried to pull my wrist away from him, but he held fast.

“It’s mine, now
give
it to me.”

His brows rose further. He was implacable. “I won’t give it to you until you say please.”

“Confound you!
Please
!” He released me and handed me my bucket, though he pursed his lips and his jaw tightened.

“Woman, why on earth are you goin’ to the creek, when you could just go get your water from the well?”

I felt a bit embarrassed at that point, and looked away. “I like the walk,” I said. “Sometimes by the creek in the early morning, I can hear the call of the sparrow, or the mourning dove. And sometimes I see the white-tailed deer.” I turned and faced him bravely, which took a bit of gumption, considering he was staring at me steadily and dwarfed me in size. I was the ‘runt of the litter,’ my ma liked to say, shorter than any other woman I’d known, and certainly just a wisp of a thing next to the tall, sturdy Samuel. “I like being alone, and I’ve not been hurt yet. Anyway, if anything tried to hurt me, I’m fast and run like the wind.”

He took a step toward me and put a finger to the wisp of hair that had escaped from the hasty knot at my nape, tucking it behind my ear.

“Is that right?” he asked, but it was more a statement than a question, a low murmur. I looked down shyly. I’d known Samuel now for over a year, and as of late, things seemed to be a bit different. He felt less of a friend and now more… something else. I felt quieter, and my anger began to diminish.

His voice dropped lower. “Do you want me to leave, then, Ruth?”

“Well, no,” I said slowly.

“Good,” he said, and his eyes were smiling. “Because I ain’t goin’ away.” He sobered as he stepped closer to me. “I won’t be allowin’ you to go to the creek alone now.”

“It’s not your place to allow or disallow,” I said.

He smiled softly at that, but his eyes grew serious. “While I’m standing here, it is.”

Anger flared in my chest and I wanted to smack him again. “And what will you to do stop me?” I asked, glaring.

“I’ll take you right up off that ground and toss you over my shoulder,” he said, and a muscle twitched in his jaw. His eyes flashed. “And if I had to? March you back to the barn and tie you to a post so you don’t get away.”

Something about the way he suggested overpowering me set my heart to stuttering again. “I’m not afraid of you and your highhanded ways,” I hissed.

He leaned in closer, his voice deep and low as he spoke. “Well, maybe you
ought
to be. I hear tell around town there’s been a few women roughed up by some men travelin’ in packs. Comin’ in tradin’ furs and movin’ on, leavin’ destruction in their wake. You’re a tiny little thing and I could pick you right up and put you in my pocket.”

Was it worth fighting him? I stepped back and sighed. “All right, then. I won’t go alone.”
Today
,
I added internally. “Will you at least come with me, then?”

He shook his head. “No, Ruth. You have a well that’s just as good, and there’s no need to venture into the woods. There are rattlers, and wolves, and savages.” His voice sharpened. “Use your head, woman. Come with me, now.” He reached for my hand. It was the first time he’d ever taken my hand before. His hand was larger, and callused, and my own hand felt soft and small compared to his. He tugged me a bit, turning me away from the creek and back toward home. I didn’t much like that he’d fancied it proper for him to tell me what to do. He wasn’t my husband, my father, or my brother, and I did not owe him my obedience.

Why, then, did I feel a sort of quiet in his sturdy presence, as I walked by his side?

“You need help around the farm today?” he asked.

“We’re fine.” I trotted quickly to keep up with his long strides.

“I noticed the other day your barn door is not as secure as it ought to be. I can stop on by after supper and fix that.”

I was still annoyed he was being so bossy, so I tried to yank my hand away from his. He wouldn’t let go. “I said I’m
fine
,
Samuel, thank you. I do not need a hand.”

He glanced at me sideways and scowled. “Young lady, you may not need a hand on the farm, but you could use a hand across your backside,” he said in a low drawl.

I finally managed to yank my hand away from him, spinning around to glare at him. My eyes roved over him. He was much taller than I was, and his sleeves were rolled up, revealing tanned, muscled arms. His sandy brown hair was long enough to peek out from beneath his hat. Hands anchored on sturdy hips, he stood, bracing himself in front of me, two feet planted solidly. He frowned. “Are we goin’ to stand here all day arguin’ about where to fetch water?”

It was then that I was struck with the absurdity of the situation. My anger began to fade, and I cursed my hot temper that flared so easily. He’d made me come along with him so that I wasn’t in harm’s way, and told me I needed a spanking. Truth be told, I
was
acting like a spoiled child. I was suddenly repentant.

“I’m sorry,” I murmured, closing my eyes. I inhaled, lifting my eyes back to his and speaking quietly. He was still frowning at me with his hands on his hips, as if to wait and see what I would do next. “Samuel, you don’t deserve to be treated this way. Out here, you’re one of my only friends.” My voice caught. He’d been so good to me the past year, had done more work around my homestead as we prepared to move than my own husband had done in the past eight years. “Please forgive me?”

His eyes softened a bit as he nodded and took my hand again, tugging me along so we were walking back to my cabin.

“It’s all right now, honey,” he said. “But you’re right tied up tighter than a newly strung banjo. What’s eatin’ you?”

“Oh, nothing. Well, nothing big, I guess.”

He led us over to the well and reached for the handle, lifting up a bucket of the cool, clear water, as I held my bucket for him.

“Hannah needs new shoes, as her toes are nearly clean out of the ones she has. School’s out soon, and she and I have much to do around here. I’ve got nothing to really fall back on, and we haven’t had fresh meat in weeks. I hate hunting. Can’t bear to do it. I do dearly love to eat meat. But I can’t bring myself to actually fetch it. Small little things troubling me that I’ll deal with.”

I watched as he filled the bucket with water, and when he was done, I reached to take it. He merely shook his head.

“I can carry the bucket,” I said. “I do it every day.”

“Not while I’m around you don’t,” he muttered, reaching for my hand again, holding the bucket of water in the other hand. I allowed him to take it, and trotted beside him as we made our way back to my home. With my husband, things had been quite different. He’d not been kind and protective, like Samuel, but malicious and selfish. I wanted to purge every memory of my husband, the way he’d touched me and taken me and abused me, scorch the memories from my mind and heart. I hated every memory of him. I needed to reclaim the woman I once was.

There was only one good thing he’d ever given me, and she was waiting for me in the cabin.

“You get on with your chores, and I’ll get on with mine,” Samuel said as we approached the front door.

“Will you come in for some breakfast?” I asked.

He shook his head. “I’d like to, but I’ve got to get back. We’re getting’ on with the shearin’ today. Aaron and Phillip are comin’ to give me a hand, and then I’ll be headin’ on over to their places to help them.” There were four Stanley brothers. Aaron was the eldest, and he was married to Pearl, who was a friend of mine. Phillip came next. He was Geraldine’s husband and they’d just had their first little baby. I didn’t see much of them. Samuel was next in line, and at the very end came Hannah’s friend Matthew, the youngest.

“You need help with the shearing?” I asked. Often, the sheep would respond well to the gentler touch and softer voice of a woman.

BOOK: Surrendered on the Frontier
7.45Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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