Chapter Five
The sun had long since set and dusk had descended upon the town when Jenny rushed up the front steps and across the porch. “Please, God, let Janelle be home,” she prayed aloud. A heavy sense of dread settled into her chest. If Janelle were home, light would have glowed from the house at this hour, but the windows were dark. Although she felt it a complete waste of energy, she rapped on the etched glass window.
She waited briefly and knocked again, louder.
Folding her arms impatiently, she drummed her fingers against her skin, tapping her foot restively, intent on counting to ten before knocking one more time. Cupping a hand to the window, she peered through the glass trying to see inside.
“No one is home.”
The words out of nowhere made her jump, her hand flying to her chest as if she could slow her runaway heart. She turned. Although it was too dark to see well, she didn’t need light to know who it was. As soothing as it was disconcerting, the familiar voice belonged to Heath, the last person she wanted to see.
“Is there something I can help you with, ma’am?”
He didn’t recognize her; yet another dagger to the heart. Her throat went dry and her tongue seemed to forget how to work, as she stood speechless. It had been seventeen days since the horrible incident in Janelle’s backyard, not one hundred feet away. Not so long a time, really. She could measure it in hours and minutes, probably seconds, it had been so profound. At least to her it had been, but not to him quite obviously—was she really so forgettable?
“The marshal and his wife are out of town,” he stated plainly. Approaching from the side of the house, he walked up the steps and onto the porch, stopping a foot or so in front of her. He tipped his dark Stetson back with his thumb. She watched the dark swath of unruly hair fall free as he gazed down at her. As always, her fingers itched to touch it and brush it back from his face.
“Jenny?” His surprise was evident. “What are you doing here?”
“Mr. Jackson,” she said in greeting, her reedy thin voice sounding slightly squeaky to her ears. She cleared her throat delicately and tried again. “I was looking for Janelle.”
He glanced around as if searching for something or someone. “You didn’t come here after dark all by yourself, did you?”
“Well, yes—”
“Where is your buggy?”
“I walked.”
“You live all the way out on the west end of town. That’s at least three miles.”
She didn’t answer. What could she say? It was at least that far and in boots not meant for that distance, her feet had felt every inch of it.
“What was your pa thinking to let you go traipsing about unescorted after dark?” His dark eyes narrowed. “He does know you’re here, doesn’t he?”
“No, but—”
“Girl, don’t you know better than to walk the streets of this town by yourself, especially at this late hour? And to not to tell anyone where you’ve gone is reckless. They’re probably worried sick.” As the moon peeked from behind the clouds casting long shadows over the porch, she could make out the scowl of displeasure on his face. If she had any doubt he was angry, his tone as he continued made it clear. “The drunks are well into their second bottle by now. Do you know what could happen to a tiny thing like yourself if one of them set their sights on you?”
Not needing to be reminded he thought her a child, she bristled at him calling her girl and she was far from tiny. She was taller than Janelle was and on the curvy side, like her ma. At well over six feet tall, Heath towered above her, and since he was used to keeping company with his equally tall brothers and the widow, she supposed she did seem small. Even so, he didn’t have to use such a condescending tone.
She couldn’t argue with his warnings, though, mostly because he was right. As she’d passed through some of the busier parts of town, she had seen some unsavory characters; a few had yelled vulgar remarks, one whistling rudely. They had frightened her, enough that she’d picked up her pace. It wasn’t as though she wanted to go out by herself, but she’d been left with little choice.
Papa was beside himself with despair and had crawled inside a whiskey bottle this afternoon, as soon as Doc had told him there was no hope. “Try to keep her comfortable,” he’d advised, giving them a bottle of laudanum. That was before supper. By the time she spoon fed mama her chicken broth—the only thing she’d been able to keep down for days—the sun was setting and papa had taken off in the wagon, for more booze most likely. She’d hated to leave, but couldn’t very well have sent Will. He was only eight.
Tears pricked her eyes. “Mama is very sick. I came to fetch Janelle to see if there is anything she could do to help.” Her voice broke. She swallowed, giving a little sniffle before going on. “Seeing as they’re not home, I’ll be on my way. Good evening, sir.” She sidestepped, moving quickly past, but he caught her arm.
“I’m sorry to hear about your ma, Jenny.” His tone was gentler now. “However, that’s no call to risk your safety. Your pa should have come and left you to tend her.”
“He was, uh… indisposed.”
Heath’s deepening frown told her the tactful euphemism she’d used for papa being dog drunk had not passed his notice. “I’ll see you home and have a talk with him when I get there. Wait here while I fetch Aaron’s buggy.”
“That’s hardly necessary, Mr. Jackson.” He visibly bristled, apparently taking exception to something, whether her tone or her reluctance, she wasn’t sure. As she watched his reaction, a suspicion grew as to why. With her feelings for him under control, thus ending her pathetic crush, she wasn’t about to start calling him Heath and being familiar again. He seemed to take exception to her distancing herself with formal address.
“You will stay here and wait. And to be abundantly clear, Miss Harper, this is not a request.” His stilted tone and use of her proper name told her she was right.
As she watched him clomp down the steps and across the yard, her jaw fell open. At the corner, he disappeared on the way to the small carriage house that sat behind the main house and off to the side. She watched after him for a moment, before hurrying down the steps and making a dash in the opposite direction. Jenny would be positively humiliated for him to see her papa in his current state. The Lord only knew how he’d react. With any luck, she’d be halfway home by the time he realized she was gone.
Striding as quickly down the street as her legs would carry her, the reason for her cross-town trip weighed heavy on her mind. Mama had been sick for almost a month. It started out as a mild stomach upset, but worsened day by day, taking a severe turn in the last few days. Unable to hold anything down except broth, she was wasting away to nothing. Doc Morgan, the town’s only physician, was at a loss as to why. Janelle had been her last hope. Since she had a way with medicines and herbs, Jenny had prayed that she would have a solution. With her gone, she was at sixes and sevens about what to do next.
Lost in thought, she didn’t hear the buggy drive up alongside her, or see the angry man until he stepped into her path; an intimidating sight as he stood before her with his hands on his hips. Jenny let out a startled squeal.
“Do you have a problem with your hearing?” Heath demanded.
“No,” she answered readily, bewildered by the odd question. “My hearing is quite sound.”
“Then you are being deliberately defiant. Get in the buggy.”
“Why are you so insistent on seeing me home? What concern is it of yours?”
“My parents taught me to take care of the meek and the vulnerable. In your case I would add muddleheaded.”
Her jaw dropped, stunned for a moment, before she let out a gasp of outrage. “That was beyond rude.”
“What else do you call a young woman wandering alone at night in a town full or drunkards, gamblers, and outlaws? I’m taking you home.”
He took firm hold of her arm to escort her to the buggy, but she slipped out of his grip. He wasn’t deterred, clasping it more firmly a second time as he practically growled with exasperation. “Are you honestly going to fight me on this? Navigating the streets of Laramie after dark cannot be preferable to riding with me in a buggy.”
The ill-mannered man had a point, but she didn’t like his imperious manner. “I’d prefer not to ride with a big oaf who insults me and treats me like a dimwitted child.” She wrenched her arm free and stomped past him, taking no more than two or three steps before his long arm circled her waist and promptly hauled her back.
“You’ve grown up into quite a willful young lady, Jenny Harper.”
“According to you, I haven’t grown up at all. Let me go.”
He lifted her, holding her against his hip. She knew what came next, but she refused to get in that buggy. “Put me down, Heath.” Angry now, her voice had risen, echoing through the stillness of the dark street as she jerked at his restraining hands.
“Settle down,” he directed. “You’re getting in the buggy,”
“No. I am not.” Struggling, she twisted in his hold and kicked to get free. “I don’t have to take orders from you.” Beside the buggy now, she braced her feet against the frame, preventing his strong arms from lifting her to the seat.
“You will, for your own good.” Her head thrashing wildly clipped him on the jaw, so hard that his teeth snapped together. That didn’t stop her; even his angrily muttered “goddammit” didn’t make her stop.
“That does it. If you’re going to act like a child, I’ve a mind to treat you like one by dusting up your skirts and blistering your tail but good.”
Her mouth fell open with a huff of indignation before she redoubled her efforts. “You wouldn’t dare!”
The next moment, he proved that he would. With his boot wedged against a spoke of the wheel, his big hands toppled her over his raised thigh. Neither her feet nor her hands could reach the ground and she teetered, grasping wildly for purchase. She latched onto his leg, her fingernails digging into him to keep from falling.
When the first swat connected with her bottom, she squealed. The night seemed to come alive as she heard a door slam down the street and a dog began to bark nearby.
“I suggest you keep quiet, unless you want the neighbors to come investigate the commotion.” He said that calmly, as if it was an everyday occurrence for him to take a girl over his knee in the middle of the street. Unfazed, he methodically smacked her behind.
Jenny bit her tongue. He was right. The residents of Laramie were nothing if not curious, and they gossiped voraciously. Her reputation would be in shreds if someone saw them. Therefore, she submitted quietly with her bottom pointed skyward and her mind reeling in disbelief at the utter gall of this man. A dozen or more blows fell before he stopped. It hadn’t really hurt through the many layers of clothes. Thank goodness, he hadn’t ‘dusted’ them up as he’d threatened. This had been humiliating enough, but for him to see her underthings… Tears of embarrassment wet her eyes as he set her back on her feet.
“Now then…” His hand came up to grasp her chin and his eyes bore down on her, gleaming intensely in the moonlight. “Ordinarily, your bottom would be hot and stinging from my hand connecting directly with your bare skin. That’s how a true spanking is delivered. This was only a taste of what further reckless behavior will earn you. I’m hoping that you heed my warning from here on out and this won’t have to happen again in order for you to find out for certain.”
His shocking actions had robbed her of the ability to speak, let alone think, and he was threatening more.
“Get to the buggy and I’ll help you in.”
In a stunned daze, she stared at him.
“Jenny.”
“You’re a brute!” she exclaimed through her tears, her tongue beginning to function at last.
“I’m sorry you think so. Get along now.”
At the buggy, she attempted to climb up by herself, but his hand stayed her. He pulled her around to face him. This time his hand was gentle as he tilted her face up to his.
“I’ll help you into the buggy, Jenny.” His voice was soft as he stared down at her, his hand unmoving on her cheek. “I’m sorry you heard what I said to Janelle that day. I never meant to hurt you.”
Coming out of the blue, the apology staggered her. Her lids lowered, unable to bear the sincerity in his eyes without gushing like a lovesick schoolgirl, or melting against him on jellied knees, or worst of all bursting into tears and begging him to love her. She felt his breath on her cheeks and then the touch of his lips against her own. Softly he brushed over them in the sweetest, gentlest of kisses.
It was better than her dreams and she yearned for more, but she was confused. She stared at him, wanting to ask him to make up his mind. Which was she, a child to be spanked or a woman to be kissed? Furthermore, who was this man? She had seen too many sides of him now to be sure. Was he the sweet charmer who had danced with her and so gallantly bowed over her hand? Or the gentle, concerned man who had held her on his lap so caringly while Janelle doctored her cut? Then there was the callous beast who had crushed her heart over a game of croquet and the stern, unbending man who had taken her over his knee for a spanking. Now there was another to consider, one so tenderhearted that when he kissed her gently in apology, her heart melted.
“Jenny.” A husky note colored his voice.
Rocked with uncertainty, she drew away, her trembling fingers touching her lips, touching where they tingled. She focused on the reason she’d ventured out tonight—her mama—the only thing that was important right now. It would take her at least another hour to walk home. She’d been gone far beyond that time already and mama might need her.
“I’ll accept the ride,” she said stiffly, glancing down awkwardly before she went on. “For no other reason than I need to get home to my mother, certainly not because you order it so, Heath Jackson.” The statement was childish, just as he accused her of being and she didn’t accept his apology. She wasn’t ready for that. His heavy-handed manner had fueled her self-protective instincts and ignited her stubborn streak.
She moved toward the buggy waiting for his assistance, her back to him, hand raised, expecting him to steady her as she climbed in. She heard a low sound behind her, resembling a growl. The next instant, she was unexpectedly hoisted into the vehicle accompanied by his low grumble. “Deliver me from stubborn women.”
As he stood beside the buggy, their eyes were at the same height. The intensity of his regard was intimidating and she curbed her tongue. She also found that she couldn’t hold his gaze and her eyes darted away. Why did he have to be so attractive, so tall and strong? He was much too powerful and domineering for her peace of mind, but oddly that enticed her as well.
Jed would never treat her this way, but she didn’t love or desire Jed. When she glanced back, his brow lifted in question.
“I’m ready to go now, Mr. Jackson.” Her voice came out whisper-soft, without any of her earlier defiance. It dismayed her as much as it seemed to satisfy him. He nodded once before walking around to his side of the buggy.
Sitting rigid and motionless in the seat, she tried to maintain some level of dignity as he climbed up. She refused to so much as glance his way. Without another word, he flicked the reins while giving a click of his tongue, and the horse set off at a brisk pace.
Jenny sat silently beside him, trying to make heads or tails out of what had happened. He’d threatened her with a spanking one minute, and the next had done it outright. Afterward, he had threatened to bare her behind. Good heavens, even her papa had never done that. Since she was old enough to remember, never had anything as intimate as a bare hand been used on her equally bare skin. Always a good girl, a simple scolding was enough to make her contrite. On the rare occasion she had been physically punished, her skirt stayed firmly in place. Papa had used a stout oak paddle over her skirt twice; both times hurt like the dickens. Mama had switched her once when she’d gotten home from a friend’s house well after dark. Each time she had learned her lesson and never repeated the misbehavior. The last time had been long ago when she’d been thirteen. After that, her parents thought she was too old, which was true, surely.
Now that she was a woman, Heath Jackson came along thinking he had the right to punish her and had done that very thing. As she bounced along on a freshly spanked behind, the mild tenderness conjured up images of her lying over his thickly muscled thighs with her skirts over her head and her pantalets drawn down past her knees, her bare bottom on brazen display. It was a shameless vision that she couldn’t push away. Shocking and titillating, it ignited an odd heat low in her belly. Sweet Nelly, if he knew what she was thinking he might find it improper, but far from childish.
In his eyes, however, that was what she was. He’d told Janelle that very thing and tonight certainly proved that he felt it was true. Tears stung her eyes, threatening to spill over not because she was in pain, or due to the indignity she’d endured, of which there had been plenty, but from the further rending of her heart.
She had convinced herself that she had put her feelings for him aside, but she had been fooling herself; they were every bit as strong. Maybe she was a glutton for punishment, literally. How else could she explain loving a man who rejected her repeatedly? Even after the night at Janelle’s when he’d crushed her hopes and dreams of a future with him, she’d loved him. Tonight, she felt sure the spanking was the final straw that would douse the flames of her desire. Yet, as she rode along, two fires still burned. One was a tingling heat; it had spread like a wildfire across her bottom and warmed her insides but was trifling enough to be gone by tomorrow. The other was more enduring and engulfed her heart with flames that she knew, despite her best efforts, would never be extinguished.
* * *
As he drove the buggy westward toward the Harpers’ farm, Heath avoided the rowdy streets with the seedier establishments that came to life this time of night. Although Laramie was growing, it remained a budding railroad town with many rough areas and even rougher men. Not only did hard-working local men come into town eager for entertainment at one of the many saloons, dance halls, or brothels, but gamblers, gunslingers, and drifters were common in town these days, often stirring up trouble.
The disreputable trades seemed to be outpacing the respectable businesses, though many restaurants, hotels, banks, and shops had opened as the railroad brought more and more folks into Laramie each day. Aaron had his hands full, and had often complained his small force of one sheriff and a handful of deputies couldn’t keep pace with the crime. With that in mind, it would be unconscionable for Heath to allow Jenny to walk home alone.
With a sidelong look, he eyed the pretty young woman that had been on his mind so much lately. She was the embodiment of temptation, from the jaunty little hat perched atop her head, sitting slightly askew following their run-in, to the pointy tips of her impractical boots. A man would have to be made of stone not to be affected by her beauty, not the least of it her curvy hips or full rounded breasts. He shuddered every time he thought of her walking the streets alone and coming across one of the rowdy men who had come to town looking for a gal to keep him company.
As much as she was beautiful, she was naïve and reckless. That had become obvious tonight. She needed someone to keep her safe, to lay down the law and hold her feet to the fire if she didn’t follow the rules. If her family wasn’t going to see to her guidance and protection, she needed a man who would. Someone to give her what his pa called good old-fashioned Jackson justice in the form of a firm hand, or some other equally effective implement, applied to her misbehaving behind.
The thought of any of the beaus he’d seen lining up for a dance with her being able to meet that need was laughable. If he was honest, the thought of her as wife to any of them burned like hellfire in his gut. She needed a strong man, someone she couldn’t easily wrap around her dainty little finger and who wouldn’t break like a dry twig at the flutter of her long silky lashes or a pretty pout from her very kissable lips. She needed someone exactly like him.
Dammit. It wouldn’t do to think along those lines, not when he had no intention of being that man. But the little redhead stirred him more than any woman—ever—and threatened his steely resolve. With her close beside him, her feminine scent wafting gently up to his nose, it was near impossible to control his desire for her, his body growing ever harder.
How had he ever thought her a child? After he’d spanked her and she’d looked up at him with her wide-eyed gaze and those plump pouting lips, made dewy by the stroke of her tongue, he’d seen only woman and pure temptation. He wanted to taste her, was compelled to. His conscience had warned him not to, but fool that he was, he hadn’t listened and had kissed her.
What had he been thinking? The memory of her soft body brushing against his had plagued him after their dance. Now after spanking her and sharing a kiss, it would be so much worse. It would be near impossible to forget her round bottom beneath his hand, her soft body wriggling over his thigh, or the taste of those full lips, warm and sweet, like late summer berries. The memories roused him such that he had to shift on the seat to find ease.
He caught a flash of her green-eyed gaze as she cautiously glanced his way. When she found him watching, she quickly returned to her silent perusal of the scenery that she couldn’t possibly see in the darkness beyond her side of the buggy. His lips twitched as he added another trait to the growing list her would-be husband would need—infinite patience. Especially if the cold shoulder routine was a common card that she played when she was snubbed up as she was right now.
Thankfully, he was able to suppress his grin. If she thought for a minute that he was amused, or worse, laughing at her expense, that simply wouldn’t do. She already looked madder than a wet hen with her back stick straight and her body held stiffly away from him, at least as much as she could while being bumped and jarred about.
His brother’s buggy was well sprung, but the mud holes and rut-ridden streets would have been more than the finest buggy could manage. Right then, the wheels encountered a crater-like rut, sending the buggy lurching sharply to the side and throwing Jenny practically in his lap. His hand caught and held her, but after she righted herself, she scrambled away, back to her side in an overtly desperate move to keep her distance.
“I won’t bite, you know,” Heath assured softly.
“No, but your bark is quite painful, not to mention your palm.”
Despite the sparse moonlight, he could see color imbue her cheeks. He admired her spirit, but her tongue certainly had a sharp edge. He was able to contain his mirth as he addressed her exaggeration. “Through all those layers of skirts, it’s doubtful the few swats I gave you caused you more than a slight twinge. Stung your pride is more like it. I just hope it was enough to help you remember that nice girls don’t go out alone, especially after dark in Laramie.”
He steered the horse down Main Street, which would take them to the old mill on the west end. “I’ll have you home, safe and sound, in a few minutes. Do we need to stop and get Doc Morgan for your ma?”
“He’s been out several times, but nothing is helping.” Her voice trailed off and she sounded on the verge of tears.
“I’m sorry, Jenny. I could fetch my mother. She’s been working with Janelle on her herbal remedies. It might be worth a try. She’s learned quite a bit.”
“Would you do that?” She turned to him with a rush of gratitude. “Papa and I, and even Doc, are at our wits’ end and will try anything at this point.”
“Of course. I’ll drop you off and head on out to Silverbend straightaway.”
“Thank you, Mr. Jackson.” She wrung her hands and plucked nervously at her skirt.
“It’s Heath, Jenny. We’ve known each other too long to be so proper. Besides, pa is Mr. Jackson.”
Her head turned toward him briefly, before her eyes skidded away. That’s how it had been since that day at Aaron’s when he’d stomped her tender heart to bits. He’d cursed himself ten times a bastard for having hurt her. Since then, if they met in town or at a social function, she was distant and barely looked at him. When she did, or if their eyes met accidentally, hers would dart away.
Always before, those stunning eyes were open, like windows without curtains, revealing all of her innermost emotions. He’d seen so many, from embarrassment after the ‘tower of flour’ (as he’d referred to it in the retelling to Aaron and his ma) or the love and adoration he’d seen glowing in her eyes after they danced, then there was the tear-filled vulnerability that he’d seen when she’d cut herself in Aaron’s kitchen. Seeing that plainly in her eyes, he’d been unable to resist gathering her up; the need to take care of her was overwhelming.
All that had changed. Now, he saw only pain, sadness, and embarrassment. The knowledge that he was the cause cut into his heart like a knife. On her part, she wanted nothing to do with him and avoided him like the plague. Tonight, she’d been prepared to walk home three miles or more in the dark simply to elude him. He should give her that and leave her be. Although he never would have hurt her intentionally, or ended it in such an extreme manner, the infatuation was in fact over. It’s what he wanted too, wasn’t it? Why then, was it plaguing him so?
Her voice was small when she spoke next. “I’m sorry for being so difficult. I don’t normally go running around the streets unescorted, but sometimes necessity dictates otherwise.”
“I only want to see that you’re safe because I care about you, Jenny. What do you say we put our disagreements behind us and start fresh as friends?”
“Friends,” she echoed softly. “I suppose that will have to do.” If we can’t be more. As if she had screamed them, the unspoken words hung awkwardly between them. “I mean, that would be nice,” Jenny corrected, her voice strained.
They lapsed into an awkward silence after that.
He turned off Main Street onto a narrow road also littered with ruts. After jouncing in a particular deep furrow, they turned down the lane to the Harper farm. The road conditions worsened, which Heath wouldn’t have thought possible, but the lane was little more than a cow path, overgrown by weeds and covered in debris from a recent storm. Her pa should have kept it tended, he thought with a frown, thankful for the full moon that helped him guide the horse.
He drew to a halt in front of a whitewashed, two-story farmhouse. Heath got out and came around to help Jenny, but she was already rushing up the steps and into the house. He followed, wanting to see her mother and get some additional information so that ma would know what she was facing.
In the entryway he stopped, looking around for her. His name, called in a tearful voice from the top of the stairs, drew his attention.
“Fetch your ma, Heath. Please, hurry.”