Adam: Braddocks, Book Two (2 page)

Faith sat across the dinner table from her parents. She had dreaded confronting her father with her decision and, just as she’d thought, he hadn’t taken her announcement well. Her stomach knotted, knowing she would face his wrath and certain punishment, but she would not back down. She waited for his explosion.

It came swiftly. “Daughter, you are not going to work in that mercantile. I won’t have it.”

She saw his hands tightening as he held a knife and fork, and then he tossed them down. Her heart raced. You can change your mind. Save yourself from a licking for going against him. But she remained quiet, determined. This was important to her.

“Now, Sylvester,” her mother gently protested and earned a scowl from her father. “Annabelle needs some help right now. I see nothing wrong in Faith helping out.”

Her father’s face reddened and he shoved his plate away. He didn’t like anyone going against him. “Stay out of this or face the consequences.”

“I’m an adult now. I can make my own decisions.” Faith didn’t want her mother being punished for defending a choice she’d made.

“You live under my roof, do you not?”

“Yes, but…” They’d had this argument many times before. His roof meant under his rules. Meaning whatever he said must be obeyed.

“No buts to it, Faith Marie Paddington.” He steadied his gaze, pressed, “I say you working in the mercantile isn’t proper. You need to focus on finding a husband.”

She thought back to Adam’s carrying on about her wearing the britches, how a proper lady wore dresses. That disagreement still bothered her. “Are you saying Annabelle Henderson isn’t a proper lady because she works in the mercantile?”

“Of course he’s not saying that,” her mother interrupted.

“I told you to stay out of this, Sarah Anne.” He focused on Faith once more. “Her situation is entirely different. She’s a widow woman, owns the store.”

She knew she was treading on dangerous ground, but Faith refused to be swayed from her decision. “She’s a woman alone. I am a woman alone.” She hesitated, feeling her face heating. “All right, at the moment I don’t live alone. But I’m planning on doing just that. Soon.”

Her father’s eyes bugged out. “You will do no such thing! You are not moving out of this house until you take a husband. I won’t have it!”

Annoyed that he wouldn’t listen to her wishes, she shoved back her chair and stood. “I am going to work with Annabelle at the mercantile. And I am going to move out on my own as soon as I have the money to do so.”

She heard her mother suck in a worried breath at her clear defiance of her father’s wishes. She listened to his chair being pushed back on the hardwood floor. As he stood, she knew what he was going to say even before he said it. But she wasn’t going to back down. She would suffer the consequences.

“You will go to your room and wait for me, Faith Marie. Be ready for a sound thrashing.” His tone was firm and she knew there would be no changing his mind at this point.

Her knees were weak as she walked away with as much dignity as possible. Behind her she heard her parents arguing and finally her mother quietly saying, “Yes, Sylvester.” No doubt her mother would be disciplined this night as well. And it was all her fault.

* * *

Adam sat at one of the tables near the piano in the Tumbleweed Saloon, nursing a whiskey. How many had he had already? He’d stormed in here after closing up his barbershop and not knowing where else to go. Even though it had only been mid–day and the saloon wasn’t officially open, Angelica had let him in. They occasionally tangled over something, but for the most part the saloon owner and he got along.

Business was picking up by now. A dozen cowboys from nearby ranches had wandered in as they usually did on a Saturday night. Angelica’s two waitresses were making the rounds, chatting with the familiar men, bringing them requested drinks. Doc Carpenter had just sat down at the piano prepared to play the ivories for another night as he did most nights. For the most part everyone kept their distance from Adam, which pleased him greatly.

Then his younger brother Ben ambled through the front doors and into the dimly lit saloon. His twin, Caleb, was with him. Behind them came Daniel. All three brothers headed straight for him, expressions sour. Damnation. Had Jennie gone straight home to her husband and tattled on him about his argument with Annabelle and Faith? He felt bad about causing Annabelle any grief, but not Faith. No, definitely not that little spitfire.

“What brings the three of you in here tonight?” He tossed back the rest of his whiskey.

Ben and Caleb pulled out chairs and sat down. Daniel spun his chair around and straddled it, bracing his forearms on the back. “Apparently some jackass brother of ours upset Annabelle Henderson.”

“Jennie tell you that?” Adam lifted his glass and called to the bartender, “Another whiskey.”

“That and that you had words with Faith. Unkind words.” Daniel looked him eye–to–eye. “What the devil has gotten into you lately?”

“Yeah,” Caleb added. “You’ve been so edgy that men are steering clear of your place. Afraid to take a chance with their lives to have you hold a knife to their throat for a shave, let alone get a haircut.”

It took him a few seconds before he finally grumbled, “Last week was three years.” He didn’t have to explain further. His brothers immediately understood he was referring to Meredith and the baby dying three years ago. It wasn’t that he particularly missed Meredith, who had become a true harpy as soon as her father had forced them to marry when Adam had gotten her pregnant. But he sure did miss the son he hadn’t had a chance to raise, even to hold.

Angelica strolled over into their uncomfortably quiet midst and handed him another glass of whiskey. “That’s it for the night, Adam. You can barely sit upright as it is.”

“Give it a rest, Ange,” Ben said grimly. “He’s hurting.”

She looked at Adam, sympathy in her eyes. Ben had told him that he’d shared with her some of Adam’s past. He didn’t like other people knowing. It was his private business. But she and Ben were close, very close. Too close, in his opinion. He didn’t like the idea of his brother hooking up with a saloon owner, possibly a former whore…although no one knew for sure about that.

“I’m not talking about that. Understood?” He glared at each of his brothers individually and at Angelica.

Angelica let it go, but pointedly said, “All right. Let’s talk about your pigheaded attitude of late toward Faith. Let’s talk about your idiotic comment concerning her deciding to wear britches while working at the mercantile. Something that makes perfect sense, if you really thought about all the bending over she’ll do. All the boxes she’ll haul around.”

Adam watched Ben look curiously at Angelica, saw his eyes heat and his gaze moving over his woman. He had a pretty good idea that his brother was envisioning the seriously sexy brunette in britches…and then stripping her out of those britches. Much the same thought he’d had about Faith, admiring the way the britches had gently hugged her fine ass. And how he’d also briefly toyed with the idea of seeing her out of them. Lately, when he hadn’t been grieving over losing his son, he’d spent too much time thinking about Faith…in and out of clothes.

Forcing those thoughts aside, he growled, “A decent lady wears a dress.”

Ben took offense to the decent lady part as Adam frowned at Angelica. “Are you wanting a fight, big brother? Because I sure as hell will–”

Before either of his other brothers could dive into the conversation, Adam muttered a curse and then snagged Angelica’s gaze. “I wasn’t talking about you…I mean I wasn’t implying…”

She smiled in amusement. “No offense taken.” Then she sobered and pressed, “So, you planning on apologizing to Faith? Smoothing down Annabelle’s ruffled feathers, too?”

“There’s nothing to apologize to Faith about. She has her opinion. I have mine.” He swallowed the shot of whiskey. “But I’ll speak to Annabelle. She means a lot to me.” He glanced at his brothers. “To all of us.”

Daniel captured his attention with a scowl. “My Jennie is all upset because you’ve hurt her friend’s feelings. I don’t like my wife being upset. You need to settle things between you and Faith.”

“It’s my business what goes on between Faith and me.” Still, it bothered him that he might have hurt Faith, even if he believed he was right about the britches situation. He was certain if she went around wearing those too–snug–fitting pants and caught the attention of even one cowboy, soon there would be a line of them through the mercantile and on out the door. Every one of the no–goods lusting after her.

“I might call a truce, but I am not changing my mind about those damn britches.” With that said, he shoved back his chair and stood. He walked away and his brothers had the good sense to let him leave in peace.

* * *

Faith paced uneasily around her bedroom. She hated waiting for her father when he intended to punish her, but he always took his time until he was good and ready. Her thoughts drifted back to Adam, as they did all too often. The stubborn man was breaking her heart by being so impossible about giving in to feelings she was certain he had for her. She didn’t really want to live her life alone as a spinster woman, but she would if she couldn’t have Adam. He was the only man she would ever love. Big, stupid, stubborn man.

She stopped at the lace curtain–covered window and looked down Main Street. It would still be another hour or so before the sun went down, but already ranch hands were drifting into town and heading for the saloon. She could see most of the town’s businesses from here. The barbershop was closed, just as it had been from not long after Adam had rushed out of the mercantile. The mercantile, too, was closed for the day. Was Annabelle feeling poorly again? Was she upstairs in her apartment even now? She should be going to check on the kindly older woman instead of being up here waiting for her father.

The batwing doors to the Tumbleweed Saloon burst open and she watched Adam come striding out. For a second he glanced toward her house and then he strode briskly toward the barbershop, which he lived above. ‘She needs her mouth washed out with soap…a hand applied to…’ His words made her bristle with indignation. She’d said nothing wrong, maybe she’d spoken a little coarsely, but it had been the truth. Although not one of the men who’d come courting her had actually said they wanted in her bloomers, she’d seen it in their eyes. She’d noticed the erections pushing at the front of their trousers. Her father would be horrified to learn she knew about such things, but she wasn’t as naïve as everyone seemed to believe.

She heard her father’s heavy footsteps heading in her direction. Well, she was going to get part of what Adam thought she needed: a hand applied to her bottom. Actually, she was almost certain she would get worse than that. Her father had been quite upset with her daring to go against him. She moved away from the window, resigned.

Her father walked into the room and closed the door behind him. He carried the much–dreaded razor strop. Her stomach tightened. For a second her thoughts went to the open window. Fortunately their house was at the end the street and no others were close by. Her cries would not be heard, except by her mother, who had heard them before.

“Take the position, daughter.” He nodded toward the end of her bed. “Unless you will be changing your mind. Will you?”

Grimly, she shook her head and moved to stand facing the bed. Knowing what was expected, she tugged up her long skirt and bent forward, resting her forearms on the feather mattress, holding her skirt out of the way as well. Her long braid fell over her shoulder and brushed her face.

Her father stepped beside her and parted the back of her drawers to bare her bottom and her face flamed in humiliation.

“You live in my house, under my rules. I expect to be obeyed, which you well know, daughter.” He laid the cold leather against her still cool buttocks. “You can be willful at times, like now. I believe it is improper for you to be working in the mercantile. Two women alone like that…it’s not a good situation.”

“Nothing has happened to Annabelle,” Faith protested. She wished he would just get on with this unpleasantness. Yet she refused to demand he do it.

“Because she isn’t a beautiful young woman. Once word gets out that you are working there basically alone…” He drew in a deep breath. “It isn’t safe, I say. But you’re determined to do this anyway, aren’t you?”

“We’ll be fine. I’ll be fine. Adam works right next door and he…” She let the thought fade away. It wasn’t his place to watch after her. “I can take care of myself.”

Her father snorted in disagreement. “You need a good man to take care of you, to give you babies.” He sounded distressed, worried about her, but determined.

“I’m not marrying anyone,” she bit out. Not if she couldn’t have Adam, which didn’t appear likely. “Just do this, since you seem to think it necessary.”

The first lash landed and she shot forward, gasping. Fire blazed along the line of where he’d struck her. She shouldn’t have pushed her father.

“So you’re determined to go against me on this matter? Even at the threat of a sound thrashing.”

She knew he was still hoping she’d change her mind, see reason, his reason. Instead she gripped the quilt tightly, forced herself to remain still. “Yes, I’m going against you, if that’s how you see it.”

“That’s exactly how I see it.”

The thrashing began in earnest then. When he decided to give a stropping, he made it memorable. The sound of leather landing on flesh echoed around the room.

Tears streamed down her face. Her fingers ached from clutching the quilt so tightly. She danced up and down on her toes, hissing as the lashes fell. She desperately wanted it to end.

“Change your mind, Faith Marie, and the thrashing stops.” He held the now hot razor strop against her burning bottom.

She could end this suffering, but it would be the wrong decision. She settled into position again and said shakily but with determination, “No. I’ve made my decision.”

“Very well. Then we’ll continue.” He thrashed her with a biting strike.