His Passionate Pioneer (2 page)

Perhaps it was the look in his eyes, the way his touch had made her heart stop, or the smile he gave her, but for the first time, Anna felt something other than shame. When his hands dropped to remove hers from where they were clenching her skirts to give them a gentle squeeze, she made her decision. "I don't know why, Mr. Andrews, but I find that I do."

"Good girl," he said. "Chin up, and remember what I said; God helps those who help themselves."

"Even if I'm still spitting mad and fresh out of humility?" Anna asked, taking a deep breath.

Richard chuckled and tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow. "I believe God knows that deep down beneath that anger is a humble soul. Ready?"

"As I'll ever be." She placed her free hand over the one already holding his arm.

Stepping out from beneath the shade of the huge oak tree, the couple walked towards the rest of the community. Ignoring the looks of surprise being shot their way, Richard would give an occasional nod of his head to the men they passed or tip his hat to the women before returning his attention to the petite woman at his side. His smile remained on his face as he walked, ostensibly without a care in the world, right into the middle of the crowd before stopping. When Anna's hands trembled on his arm, he covered them with his free hand and bent to whisper into her ear. "Never let them see your fear, angel." He led her to where her family was waiting, Mary Beth standing with them. Giving Anna's hand a squeeze, he stepped away.

Anna watched as he again moved through the crowd, her heart stuttering when he stopped again—right beside Cassidy and her brother.
So much for trusting him!

* * * * *

Richard could have sworn he felt Anna's eyes on his back, and from the way his shoulder blades were burning, he felt certain those pretty eyes were also full of fire. Instead of being worried, however, he felt proud of the girl. He hadn't been teasing when he'd reminded her of her youth.

When he'd left to begin taking the steps necessary to start his dream, Annabelle Rose Martin had been fifteen, a decade younger than he. He grinned, remembering the last time he'd seen her. She had been standing, her hands on her hips, her eyes flashing as she emphatically stated that she was God-damned tired of being a girl. He could remember vividly seeing her red hair—freed from her braids after her escapades—blowing in the wind, her bare foot stomping as he tried to explain that he couldn't take her on what she called, 'his great escape from a horrible, boring town'. She'd told him she didn't give a damn, he could go to hell as far as she was concerned. He'd also seen the tears in her eyes that she refused to allow to fall, not even when told that young ladies did not scream and throw tantrums, and definitely did not take the good Lord's name in vain. He and his brother had been witnesses to the spirited girl screeching and kicking up her feet when her Pa had simply picked her up, tucked her beneath his arm, and given her a spanking. By the time she'd been set back down onto her feet, she had tears streaking down her dirty face, but there was still defiance burning in her eyes. He could also remember that that was the day he had known his dream would be expanded to include a beautiful and spirited, copper-haired girl.

He'd returned to discover that, even though Anna hadn't grown much more than an inch since that day, she was definitely no longer a little girl. She'd turned eighteen a few months earlier and had grown into a beautiful woman. He'd almost chuckled as he'd tucked her hair into her bonnet, but had really wanted to continue to caress the silken strands of fire. Though her hands had been clenched in her skirts instead of on her hips, and despite the hurt she'd obviously been feeling, he'd been glad to see some of the pain fade away as fire took its place in her green eyes. Hearing the pastor begin to reiterate the rules of the auction, he knew it was time to prove that the woman he still loved had not misplaced her trust.

"I don't know why it matters," he commented, crossing his arms over his chest. "I bet every single one of those baskets contains the same fried chicken, slaw and biscuits."

"How much?"

Richard turned his head slowly, as if surprised to hear a response. "Excuse me?"

Jacob Johnson shrugged. "Just asking how much you wanna bet." When Richard didn't take the bait, he continued. "I'm just saying, if you're sick of eating chicken, I know a basket full of freshly fried trout."

"How fresh?" Richard asked, looking from Jacob to the table and back again. He didn't miss Cassidy flipping her hair once more, or the fact that she held her left hand, three fingers splayed, in front of her. He had to admit she was quite the little beauty but he was far more interested in a woman who was beautiful inside and out. Remembering his plan, he looked back to Jacob and shrugged.

"I tried fishing last week and didn't get a single bite," he added.

Jacob's laugh was joined by his best friend, Darrell's. "That's because you don't know where the honey hole is and aren't using the right equipment."

"Stop teasing, Jacob," Cassidy said, smiling sweetly. "It's not nice, and besides, Mr. Andrews has been away. He's probably forgotten all the good places to fish."

Richard noticed that several men were listening—as he'd hoped they would. He wanted as many people as possible to hear what he hoped would be quite revealing. Even Pastor Brown, who had ended his spiel, appeared not to be in a hurry to begin the auction, bending down to listen to something his wife was saying.

"Ah, that's right," Richard said, tipping his hat back a bit. "I seem to remember hearing that you are quite the fisherman. You even tie your own flies with feathers, or is that someone else?"

Jacob's chest puffed up with pride. "Dang right I do. In fact, your brother asked if I might make some to sell at the mercantile but I told him no." His loud laugh drew yet more attention. "I'd rather sell him fish—like those I caught yesterday down where that copse of pecan trees hang over the bank. Those fish surely do love all those feathers. They were practically jumping out of the water onto the bank."

Richard rubbed his chin. "Isn't that on John Martin's property?"

Jacob shrugged his shoulders. "Maybe, but nobody owns the river. I can fish wherever I want."

Nodding, Richard turned his head towards where Anna was still standing with her family, her eyes narrowed as if directing arrows at his back. He gave her a wink before turning back to face the brash young man. "I suppose he wouldn't mind… if fish were
all
you were taking."

For the first time, Jacob appeared to be a bit confused. "What are you talking about? I didn't take nothin' but those trout."

Reaching into his shirt pocket, Richard pulled out an object and rubbed it between his fingers. White and brown feathers swirled with the motion.

"Hey, where'd you get that?" Jacob demanded, reaching for the fly. "That's one of mine!"

"Are you sure?" Richard asked, the twirling fly ensuring that yet more attention was drawn from the crowd.

"Hell yes, I'm sure!"

Richard allowed Jacob to take the fly before advancing towards him, the younger man stepping back at the unexpected movement. "Why don't you tell me where
you
think I found it?" he said.

Darrell and Robert had moved even further away and the looks on their faces made it clear that they hoped Jacob would keep his mouth shut. However, Jacob was obviously not a man who thought things through very well.

"What does it matter? It's mine, and that's all there is to it."

Richard took another step forward, reaching out to gather a good-sized wad of Jacob's shirt, pulling him closer, lifting him until the toes of Jacob's boots were barely able to scrabble at the ground. "It matters because I found it snagged in a dress that I'm damned sure doesn't belong to you. Care to explain how it got there, and why the dress was stuffed under some rocks, halfway between the Martins' place and yours?"

When no answer seemed forthcoming, Jacob's eyes darting everywhere but to the man holding him, Richard bent a bit closer but did not lower his voice. A muscle was twitching along his jawline. "It was a dress you took off a branch in that copse of trees," he went on. "You know, the ones on Martin's property? A dress you damn well knew belonged to Miss Martin. A dress you stole, forcing Miss Martin to walk home…" he paused, looking past Jacob to Cassidy, "in her chemise and drawers—not
naked
, as your sister is telling anyone who is stupid enough to listen. Not only that, but Miss Martin had to walk home barefoot, because you stole her shoes as well."

Silence hung over them and spread out until not a single sound could be heard anywhere among the crowd. Everyone's attention was on the two men.

"It was just a prank," Jacob finally stuttered.

Richard released him suddenly and the young man stumbled backwards. Richard took a step towards him, speaking in a deadly low tone. "A prank that has caused a great deal of harm. What kind of lowdown scum are you? What sort of man trespasses on another man's property? What sort of man spies on an innocent young woman doing nothing more than taking a swim on a hot day—on her Pa's land? And, what sort of man steals her clothes? Tell me, did you and your so-called buddies enjoy watching Miss Martin? Did you get a thrill seeing her panic? Did you even think for one damned minute that she could seriously injure herself walking barefoot by the river? Did you give one thought to the fact that snakes are coming out of hibernation? It wasn't a fucking prank; it was a deliberate act of malice by a foolish
boy
, and you ought to be horsewhipped!"

"I swear, I didn't touch her!"

Richard's voice was like steel. "That's the only thing that is going to save your hide. If you had so much as laid a finger on her, I promise I would not be so polite and calm. I'd give you the thrashing of your pathetic life before I had the sheriff throw your arse in jail and toss away the fucking key." Taking a deep breath, he shook his head. "God, have you no sense of shame?"

A large man pushed through the crowd. "If he doesn't, I do. Get your sister's basket off the table," he barked.

"Pa, no! Mr. Andrews is going to buy it!" Cassidy cried.

Mr. Johnson turned towards his daughter. "As for you, young lady, you've been doing nothing but spreading hurtful gossip."

"Me? It's Jacob's fault!"

Not having yet moved towards the tables, Jacob turned on his sister. "It was your idea, and
your
fault you didn't hide the clothes well enough!

"Cassidy June Johnson, is that true?" Her Pa's face was turning almost purple with anger.

"I, I—"

"Quiet!" her father roared. "Go sit in the wagon, while you still can. By the time I'm through strapping your backend, I guarantee you won't sit for a week!"

Cassidy appeared about to protest but the moment her father stepped towards her, she turned and sprinted towards the line of wagons.

George Johnson turned to his son, who instantly moved to snatch Cassidy's basket from the table and walked as quickly as he could after his sister. The older man turned back to Richard. "I'll make sure they apologize to Anna and her family. I can't tell you how ashamed I am," he said.

Richard held out his hand. "As I said, Jacob is not yet a man, but I'm hoping he'll see the error of his ways and become one you can be proud of."

"I assure you he'd better," George said, shaking the extended hand before stepping into the crowd, taking his wife's hand and leading her to where the Martin family were standing, to speak his apologies.

The silence gave way to quiet chatter; people tsking and mumbling that it was an awful thing for the boys to do, and that they had always known that Cassidy was a little liar. Richard noticed that, in the mayhem, both Robert and Darrell had slunk away. Looking up, he gave the pastor a nod. The man clapped his hands loudly to draw attention to himself.

"Who's hungry?" he asked, and though the crowd didn't respond, he began his spiel as he picked up the first basket. "Who will give me a bid for a fine luncheon? I can't tell you what you will find inside, but I assure you, you won't be disappointed." He paused and grinned. "Remember, you are also bidding on the company of one of our fine young women with whom to share that picnic."

Richard turned to find Anna. She met his eyes instantly, and his heart skipped a beat when he saw the smile on her face. He winked and touched the brim of his cowboy hat, nodding before returning his attention to the front. He still had a basket to win.

"Ten dollars." The amount of the bid caused another wave of chatter to pass through the crowd. Several unattached men had begun bidding the moment Richard had lifted his hand. While part of him was pleased to see them offering at least some sort of support, he figured it was like shutting the barn door after the horse had escaped. Besides, there was no way in hell he'd let anyone get their hands on either the basket or his girl. When no additional bids countered his, he stepped forward, slapped down a gold eagle coin, and accepted the basket from Pastor Brown. Then he walked to where he'd left Anna, pleased to see the smile on her face and delighted at the blush on her cheeks.

"Shall we?" he said, offering his arm again.

Anna shook her head even as she took it. "How did you know which was mine?" she asked, as he led her towards the tree behind which she'd been hiding only a short while earlier.

"A little bird told me," he said, setting the basket down and accepting the quilt she handed him. As they worked to spread it out, Anna couldn't help but look back towards the others.

Seeing Mary Beth give her a wave, she smiled. "I'll have to thank her."

Richard followed her gaze. "Not a Wren," he teased, making a reference to Mary Beth's brown dress. "More like a Blue jay."

Anna looked down at her blue gingham dress and then across to him. "I didn't tell you!"

Richard laughed. "Not a baby Blue jay, more like her proud Papa."

She turned to look towards her family to see that her Pa was indeed wearing a blue chambray shirt. "Oh."

"Does that really shock you so much?" Richard asked, sitting down on the quilt and patting the spot beside him. He didn't do much as blink as she slowly sat down, her slight cringe noticed but not mentioned. When she didn't answer, reaching to open the basket instead, he placed his hand over hers. "Answer me, Anna."

She looked up at him and shrugged. "I'm just surprised. I didn't even want to come, but he said I had to."

"Why do you think that is?"

"I don't know. I suppose so no one would think he was as ashamed of me as I know he is."

Richard shook his head. "I thought you had grown up. I guess you are still a little girl."

"I am not!" Anna protested. "I'm eighteen and a grown woman!"

"Then act like it," he suggested, giving her hand a pat before removing his. "Little girls continue to pout. Grown women are smart enough to look past the obvious."

Her face showed her hurt and confusion. "If you think I'm such a child, why did you buy my basket? Did Pa ask you to?"

"No, Anna, I bought it because I wanted nothing more than to spend the day with you." He gave her a moment to digest his words. "But I want you to understand that, even though your Pa punished you, as I've said before, he did it because he loves you." Seeing her eyes begin to flash, he stilled her protest with a finger pressed gently over her lips. "Anna, can you tell me that you are totally innocent and guilt-free about what happened yesterday?" When she pulled away, he spoke again. "Don't just answer, little one. Think about it first. Think about everything that happened and then think about what kind of man your Pa is. Do you really believe he'd strap you because he was ashamed of you, or are you the one feeling shame?"

She had looked as if she wanted to slap his finger away when he'd touched her, but he'd also seen her eyes widen at the touch. He'd much rather it be his lips pressing against hers but it was not yet time. She needed to heal the rift between her and her family, and she needed to come to that conclusion herself. All he could do was help guide her.

Looking away, she appeared to be taking the time he suggested. He didn't hurry her or open the basket. Instead, he watched as her body's tension began to dissipate, her gaze focused on her family. Though he noticed they were eating, he could also see that they were not laughing or talking as if they were enjoying their picnic.

Anna turned and lifted her eyes to his. "You're right. I-I deserved the spanking. I wasn't supposed to be swimming at all. I was just so… so
scared
when I realized my clothes had been stolen. I knew that even if I managed to get home undetected and get another dress, Ma and Pa would know something had happened when I didn't have my shoes."

Richard didn't speak, simply nodded. He was extremely pleased when she gave a big sigh and asked if he'd excuse her for a minute. "Yes, take all the time you need," he said. "I'll be right here when you're ready to eat." As she stood and straightened her skirts before turning to walk towards her family, he leaned back on his elbows and thought about the events of the previous day.

* * * * *

Richard had gone into town to purchase some special medicine from the store. One of his four newly purchased oxen had been attacked. Lacerations across his back and legs gave evidence that some large animal had attempted to take him during the night. Though the ox was still alive, if his wounds were left untreated, Richard had no doubt that he would die.

Jake had told him that the medicine hadn't come in with the latest shipment. The news was devastating because the oxen he'd bought were part of the teams he desperately needed, and he needed all of them healthy. Relief flooded through him when John said he was pretty sure there was a crock of the medicine in his tack room.

He'd immediately ridden to the Martin homestead and after speaking with Martha, John's wife, he'd found the ointment. It took him a few hours to attend to the ox. Though he couldn't fault the beast, as he understood the application of the ointment was painful, he still cursed when a hoof connected with his chest, knocking him on his ass. After he was done, he'd secured the stall door, praying that the ointment would stop any infection.

Not liking being beholden to anyone, he had taken his rifle with him, hoping to shoot a few rabbits in repayment for the medicine—though he knew John didn't expect any such thing. He'd been riding near the river when he saw a flash of white before his horse shied and whinnied. Trusting the horse's instincts, he'd looked back in the direction the rabbit had bolted from to see a huge snake slithering through the grass. It was early spring, and the hibernating snakes were waking up and very hungry. It had taken only one shot to make sure the cottonmouth would not be returning to the river. Richard had dismounted, looped the eight foot long reptile over the pommel of his saddle, and was about to remount when another flash caught his eye. It was the rabbit, darting from beneath the rock where it had taken shelter. Another shot took it down. Walking over to retrieve it, he'd noticed a bit of cloth. Well aware that snakes tended to hibernate together in large masses, he used the barrel of his rifle to swipe under the rock. Though he didn't find another snake, he did find a dress, as well as a small, weathered pair of boots. Looking around, he realized he was close to the Martins', and the size of the boots made him instantly think of Anna Martin. She was the smallest woman he knew, and his supposition strengthened when he discovered a small handkerchief in one of the pockets of the dress. Smiling, he stroked a finger across the embroidered initials. Though other females might have 'A' and 'M' in their names, he was willing to bet that none had a middle name represented by the pretty red rose in the corner between the initials.

He'd shot three additional rabbits before he was satisfied, and was tucking the found items into his saddlebag when something sharp stuck his hand. It was a hook; mostly covered by twine and feathers, but enough was exposed to have snagged into the dress. He removed the hook from his skin, tucked it into his pocket, mounted his horse, and rode towards the Martins'.

Dismounting, he left his horse at the water trough and was heading towards the house when John's raised voice led him towards the barn instead. Striding towards the large double doors that weren't completely closed, he'd been about to push one open further when John's words became clearly audible, stopping him in his tracks.

"Annabelle Martin, sometimes I swear you don't have the sense God gave a goose." Richard watched as the man walked to the wall where a thick razor strop hung from a hook. Richard turned his head slightly to see Anna. His heart skipped a beat and his breath caught in his throat. Despite the fact that she was only wearing a chemise and drawers, she was standing, her head held high as she stared at her Pa. Something in her face, the way she stood as tall as her small stature allowed, her jaw clenched as if proud and unafraid of her Pa's apparent anger, had Richard moving slowly further into the shadows, any thought of slipping away unseen disappearing.

"Over the bale, Annabelle, you know better than to stand there and continue to backtalk."

"Pa, you aren't really going to strap me, are you? I'm not a child, I'm a grown woman!"

"Really? Grown women don't shirk their responsibilities to go off to God knows where!"

"I told you where I was," she said.

"Annabelle, I'm not going to argue with you. Get yourself into position, or the dozen you have coming will become two dozen."

Richard watched as Anna's fist clenched and unclenched at her sides. Despite her father's anger, she didn't look as if she had a contrite bone in her body. Richard knew he should move away. This was not something to be seen by anyone outside Anna's family and yet he didn't move a single muscle. His eyes remained glued to the beautiful young woman, the spirit she'd had as a young girl still evident in the way she held herself stiffly, not moving to obey her Pa's instructions. It was only when John snapped the strap against his thigh that she turned and walked to the indicated hay bale. Just before she obeyed and bent over it, she turned back to look at her father. "Fine, I can't stop you from strapping me, but I don't have to be sorry!"

John ran his hand across his face wearily. "I'm sorry you feel that way, but the fact remains that you deserve to be punished."

Anna glared at him. "If I'm sorry about
anything
, it's the fact that you are too ashamed of me to even listen!"

"Enough. You tell me you aren't a child, and yet you continue to backtalk! Grown women accept the consequences of their actions. Go on; eyes front and get those drawers down."

If Richard thought the sight of her standing tall and defiant was enough to take his breath away, the sight of her hands reaching back to push the damp drawers off her bottom almost stopped his heart in his chest. Her rear was heart-shaped, the plump globes pale. Despite her bravado, he could see her buttocks quivering.

It wasn't until six strokes had been laid across her uplifted arse that her iron control began to slip. Richard watched as her hips began to wag from side to side, as if to escape the next fall of the unforgiving leather strap. As the seventh landed with a loud crack, her head reared back and her silence ended.

"Pa, please! No more!"

Crack!
The strap laid another wide line of fire across her backside and her feet kicked up, her legs scissoring as the strap was lifted high to deliver another.

"I'm sorry!" Anna wailed, her hands moving to cover her roasted rear.

John had only barely managed to turn so that the strap's downward momentum missed her hands. "Get your hands off your bottom, young lady."

"Please, Pa, that's enough. I won't disobey you again. Oh, please, Pa, no more."

"Move your hands," John repeated, his words clipped and hard. Despite her own cries, it was evident her father's tone told her that she'd best obey. Her hands moved to grasp the hay again, her head lowering, her hair sweeping the dirt of the floor.

Crack…crack…crack…crack!
Each stroke sounded like the rifle Richard had fired earlier, and each competed with her cries. The strapping didn't end until the last of the promised dozen strokes had been snapped across the tender area where her bottom met her thighs. Her head lifted again, her long, strangled wail filling the rafters of the barn.

John stood at her side, his face drawn. "Annabelle, why must you be so darned stubborn? How many times must your sainted Ma plead with you before you give her the respect she is due? How many licks must I place across your backside before you learn that responsibility comes with the adulthood you claim to have reached?" He paused and, when he looked up, it wasn't to gaze at his daughter. His eyes met Richard's, and locked onto them.

"Anna, some day you are going to marry, and when you do, I hope you are blessed with a man who not only loves you, but who will be able to take you in hand. Lord knows he'll need to have the patience of a saint as well, until you learn the value of obedience." His gaze returned to his daughter. "I pray that one day you'll stop to think about exactly why discipline is given. Perhaps with your bottom on fire you'll give some thought as to why you earned the strapping I gave you. Stay as you are until your Ma comes to get you. Do you understand?"

"Ye-yes, sir," Anna managed to sob, her words distorted by her tears.

Richard knew that John was a fair and sensible man. He had grown to respect him for his sense of duty and responsibility to not only his family, but to the people of the community who were his friends, neighbors and customers. As John moved to rehang the strap, Richard gave Anna's punished rear one more glance. This was no little girl. Richard saw her as the adult she was—her woman parts had been occasionally visible for a few brief moments when her leg had kicked out. He continued to stand where he was. He believed that fate had brought him to the barn at this precise moment. Perhaps the Good Lord above had drawn him here to listen to John's worry that no man would be able to handle his willful daughter as well as give her the love she deserved. His heart had been hers for years even though she hadn't known that fact. He looked down at his hands; yes, they were firm, and very willing to take over guiding Anna down the proper path in life. God knew he needed a woman who was both soft and strong, and it looked as though that woman was presently lying across a hay bale; her arse strapped crimson.