Over the Barrel (9 page)

"I have neither an escort nor a
husband, Mr. Adkins."

"You are young and have no need to
make a decision for yourself just yet.
 
Let's get you to your grandfather, and then you can concern yourself
with your future plans."

"What if he doesn't want me,
Sloan?
 
What if he sends me back to
Aunt Imelda?
 
I would simply die if
I had to return to that awful place."

"You would not die.
 
Maybe you should consider going into the
theater."

"Are you saying that in sincerity,
or are you just poking fun at me?"

"I'm funning you, girl." Sloan
stood up and began to dress in front of her.
 
Are your clothes dry yet?
 
Slip on your stockings and boots and
toss on your dress.
 
I got a nice
rattler roasting on the fire for your breakfast."

Blair turned slightly pale.
 
"A snake?
 
You want me to eat a snake?"

"Unless you got something better
planned, yep.
 
Hurry with you
now."

Two weeks later, they made their way back
down to the well-traveled road.
 
Few
words were spoken until they reached a small town at the end of their day.

"I'm gonna send a message to your
grandfather," Sloan said as he helped Blair curry the horses.
 
"The stableman said there is a
ranger station at the far end of town, where I can get some more supplies as
well.
 
You are to stay right here
and do not go roaming."

"Can't I come with you?"

"Not here.
 
I don't know these folks, and I am not
taking chances.
 
Skinwalker won't
let anyone get near you.
 
Stay right
here next to him, hear me?"

Blair frowned as he departed.
 
After a half hour, she walked outside to
follow the sound of loud music and laughter.
 
Glancing down the road and seeing no
sign of Sloan, Blair followed the noise to a large saloon.
 
With a determined lift to her chin, she
entered.

Several heads turned as she sauntered to
the bar, her eyes not leaving the singing woman dressed in scandalous clothing
who leaned against the piano.

"Can I buy you a drink, Miss?"

Blair turned to face a scruffy-looking
man with a broad smile.
 
She glanced
around the room, noticing that none of the other men appeared concerned.

"Why, yes, thank you."

Blair stared at the short glass of
whiskey that was set before her and swallowed dryly as she recalled her first
incident with alcohol.
 
Several men
gathered to watch the elegant young woman down her drink.
 
Cheers rose as she swallowed the bitter
liquid in one sweep and placed the glass back down on the table before
delicately dabbing the side of her mouth.

"Now that's a woman!" one man
shouted.
 
"Nothing better than
a gal who knows how to put down the corn juice."

Blair smiled at the compliment, nodding
as she was offered a second glass.

"Third one's on the house!" the
singing woman called out.

Blair giggled cheerfully as she was
surrounded by blurry people who wanted to know where she was from, where she
was heading, and if she was hitched.

"Yes," Sloan's deep voice
bellowed from the doorway.
 
"She's my wife."

"Oh, Sloan!" Blair called out,
"you came to rescue me!"

"How much have you had?
 
Girl, I swear …" Sloan began,
interrupted by Blair crushing her mouth to his while wrapping her arms around
his neck.
 
A loud cheer followed.

"I love you," she proclaimed,
covering his face with kisses as she moved her hands down his shirt.

"I, uh … let's get you home,"
Sloan stammered, trying to pull her hands from his body.

"Kiss the woman, Ranger!" a
voice commanded.

"Blair, let's go," Sloan said,
softly.

"She's a mighty affectionate
one.
 
If you don't want her, I'll
take her.
 
She needs a real cock to
…"

A gun was leveled at the man's chest
before the last word left his lips.

"Don't you talk about my wife in
that manner, mister.
 
I don't want
to see you laying an eye on her again, hear me?"
 
Sloan's voice took on a deadly timbre
and the room grew silent.

"Was just making conversation,
lawman," the man stated, hands raised to his ears in surrender.

"You need to keep better control of
her if you don't want anyone looking.
 
Nobody forced her in here," the bartender stated.
 
He gestured to the glasses, "I
watered her down after her first round."

"Thank you," Sloan said
gratefully, "She won't be coming back to a bar anytime soon.
 
That I can promise.
 
Blair, it is time to leave."

"Kiss me, Sloan."

"You are going to get strapped for
this, my girl," he whispered in her ear, feeling her stiffen in his
arms.
 
"This will be the last
time you even think of looking at a bottle."

"But, Sloan …."
 
Blair began to sway.

"Pardon me, gentlemen," Sloan
said, catching her as she began to fall and lifting her across his left
shoulder.
 
He stomped outside and
headed for the stables.

"Put me down!' Blair began to yell, pummeling
his back with her fists.

He smacked her harshly on the rump.
 
"You will quiet down this
minute.
 
I am madder than an old wet
hen right now, young lady.
 
I just
don't know what was spinnin' inside that head of yours when you decided not to
mind me."

"I love you!" Blair sang loudly
as he trampled towards the stables.

"You won't love me for long,"
Sloan said, and he dumped her into the large horse trough filled with water.

"Argh!" Blair screeched as she
emerged from under the water.
 
Sloan
dunked her a second time, and she came up sputtering.
 
"You lowdown sonofabitch!"

"If you want an audience for your
thrashing, just keep up your screaming, girl.
 
Now haul your little back end out of
there and march yourself into the stable.
 
It's time to sober up."

Blair uttered several choice words as she
struggled to pull herself out of the trough and flipped straight onto the
dirt.
 
Sloan crossed his arms to
watch her rise to her feet and wring water from the layers of material
belonging to her dress and petticoats.

"Stop stalling and get inside."

Blair made a fist with both hands and
held them down at her sides, kicking small rocks as she stomped away from
Sloan, the trough, and the small gathering of onlookers.
 
She spun around and pointed her finger
at him.

"How dare you speak to me as though
you owned me!
 
I am not your
..."

"Keep your voice down, young
lady.
 
You put yourself into a heap
of danger in there.
 
Not just with
the drinking, but by telling people your business.
 
The wrong sort could be listening and
think you would be a tasty morsel."

"I am quite able to make decisions
for myself.
 
Everyone there was very
kind."

"I told you that gals are a rare
commodity in these parts, and there are some men who will just take what they
want, without asking.
 
You can
barely stand up straight, and yet you think you can make proper decisions for
yourself.
 
Damn it, Blair, use the
brains the good Lord put in your head!"

"You cussed!
 
I knew you weren't all that
perfect."

"Yeah, I cussed.
 
Rile me up enough and the words slip
out.
 
I also will warn you, girl,
pushing to get the final say is not wise right now.
 
See that milking stool?
 
You will sit on that stool with your
little freckled nose right in the corner until I cool down and you sober up a
bit.
 
There is no use in punishing
you until I know you can feel it."

Blair kicked the wall.
 
"I am not going to sit in the
corner like a naughty child.
 
I am a
grown woman and … put me down!"

Sloan scooped Blair's wet body in one arm
and picked up the stool with the other, setting both down harshly in the corner
of the stable.

"Move an inch; I get a buggy
whip," he threatened.

"You are so cruel!" Blair
complained, placing her elbows on her knees and plopping her chin on her
hands.
 
"I hate you."

"Hate me as much as you like.
 
I wired your grandfather.
 
He was in town, so I got an immediate
reply.
 
So here is the plan:
 
Malcolm authorized a wagon to take us to
his place.
 
The blacksmith has one
that he is preparing for us and seeing to getting us supplies for our
trip.
 
We will take Skinwalker with
us, and the local sheriff will see to the return of the other horse to his
owner.
 
We still have another six to
seven weeks to travel, but a wagon will make things much easier."

"I am not getting into a stagecoach
with you."

Sloan grit his teeth, his patience at an
end.
 
"One more word and I am
tipping that barrel.
 
I don't
welcome any lip from you at the moment, got it?
 
You are not that deep into the bottle
that you have no control of your words."

"You … you cock-brained
imbecile!"

Sloan stared at her.
 
"Did you just say what I think you
did?"

Blair slapped her hand over her
mouth.
 
Her eyes widened as he
stripped his wide leather belt from his trousers and flung it over his shoulder
before heading towards the empty water barrels in the corner.
 
He turned one onto its side and shoved a
plank underneath to prevent it from rolling.
 
He turned to the girl and pointed to his
feet.

"Get your backside over here right
this second.
 
What you might not
feel now, you will feel later."

"I'm sorry!
 
Forgive me," Blair beseeched.
 
"It just slipped out.
 
The whiskey ..."

"I have reached the end of my
patience with you.
 
Whiskey or no
whiskey, this has gone on long enough," Sloan declared, walking over to
her as he pushed up his sleeves and then grasped her wrist in his large
hand.
 
Blair did not have the
strength to fight him off and found herself being dragged bodily to the barrel,
where he readily deposited her, tummy first, face down.
 
He pressed his hand against her back as
he lifted the billowing skirts away from her squirming backside.
 
Without hesitation, he parted her
drawers to expose her snowy white bottom.

"No!" Blair cried out, feeling
him lay the doubled leather strap against her protruding mounds.

"I will not have you put yourself in
harm's way again, nor will I allow you to speak to me like that.
 
Not now and not ever," he said
firmly, raising the strap high in the air.

Blair screamed as the wide, heavy leather
targeted her bare flesh.
 
It burned
like the dickens, and the stabbing pain traveled straight down the backs of her
legs.