Claimed on the Frontier (18 page)

Still, it was awfully entertaining looking at the magazines Matthew brought from town. He was friendly with the man who ran the railway, and whenever a passenger would discard a magazine, the man would save them for Matthew. Matthew would scrounge them up and hightail it home to give it to me.

Oh, I loved that boy. Every bit as rascally as ever, he
did
manage to get himself into a good scrape at least once a week. I felt a sort of affinity with Matthew. Both of us were fatherless. Both of us were wont to speak our minds with little care of the consequences. Both of us managed to get into trouble. And we both answered to Aaron.

One day, Matthew came in from doing his chores, scowling.

“Well, what on earth has gotten into you?” I asked, busily setting the dishes on the table for supper. Matthew often ate the evening meal at our place instead of ma’s, though his bed and belongings were at her place.

“I’s tellin’ Aaron I was eatin’ here tonight. And he asked me why, since ma’s makin’ chicken and dumplin’s and you’re makin’ soup and he knows I like the chicken better.”

I tucked away a smile as I stirred the soup. “Oh?”

“I told him Geraldine’s over, and I’ve no account ‘a eatin’ with that witch-on-a-broom, and I hate her, and Aaron seen fit to whup me.”

I sobered. “Well, now, Matthew, you can’t be speaking of your sister-in-law with such meanness. It’s not proper, and you know you’ll get whipped for it. Why can’t you just button up your lip and not end up getting blistered for it?”

“Well, that’s just it, Pearl. I sure as shootin’
try
to keep my lip buttoned but sometimes the words come out before I mean ‘em to.”

I laughed out loud at that and threw my arms around him, though he protested. I squeezed him vigorously.

“Oh, you have no idea how very much alike you and I are, boy,” I said. “Sit at that table now and behave.”

He sat and winced a bit as he did, likely for my own benefit. He knew if I felt sorry for him he was more likely to get cookies. And he was right. I’d just made a batch of molasses cookies with a new recipe I found in the latest magazine he’d brought for me. I placed two large ones upon a plate and sidled them up to the table next to him, just as the door opened and Aaron came in.

He frowned at me and the plate of cookies. “I send him in here to think on how to behave, and you reward him with cookies?” he asked.

“Now, now,” I said. “He’s repentant for letting his mouth run away with him. And yes, I’m giving him cookies because he’s the one who gave me the recipe, and I need someone to sample them.”

“Before supper?”

I looked out the window at the setting sun and shrugged. “Or, a little after dinner, if you look at it from another angle.”

Matthew had already shoved a whole cookie in his mouth and was washing it down with large gulps of milk.

Aaron’s eyes twinkled as he sat down and shook off his boots. He eyed Matthew.

“Matthew, don’t choke, for heaven’s sake. Give a care not to inhale your food.”

Matthew chewed and swallowed. “Yes, sir.”

Aaron looked out the window. “It looks like snow, Matthew. As soon as we eat, I want you hightailin’ it home. You hear?”

Matthew nodded.

I walked over to the window, pulling my shawl more tightly over my shoulders. “Hmm. The
Farmer’s Almanac
says that we’re not—”

“Pearl.”

I blinked and turned to look at him. He merely raised a brow at me. I ducked my head. “Right.”

“Let’s scare up some food, darlin’, before the snow starts.”

I ladled up some food easily, happy to get Matthew home safely. As I sliced bread and served it up, Aaron spoke to Matthew.

“How’s Hannah?”

Aaron and Samuel had indeed gone to visit Hannah and her mother the day Aaron took Matthew back to school. Aaron had returned that evening and said little to me about the visit, other than a mumbled, “Glad that boy stood up for the girl. A woman like that and that bit of a girl ought to be cared for and protected, not bullied.” When I asked him for more information, he was reluctant to speak of it. He didn’t like the idea of meddling in other people’s business, so it surprised me that he was asking now.

“She’s all right,” Matthew said, with a shrug while he took a large bite of soup. “She ain’t come to school for a while, now, though. Saw her last week, and not since.”

Aaron said nothing, but his eyes grew concerned. I watched him from across the table, and he seemed to tell me without speaking to hush, so I remained quiet.

Wind whipped against the cabin. We could hear it whistling in the air behind us and around us, and I saw tiny flakes of snow beginning to fall.

“You best eat quickly, so we can get you home,” I said. Matthew took a few more large bites of bread and Aaron stood.

“I’ll walk him home and be back straight away.” Matthew usually walked alone, but Aaron preferred to walk him in the evening, when it was snowing.

“Shall I pen up the cows?” There were chores that needed to be done in the evening, and he’d be held up at ma’s house, I had no doubt.

“No. You stay here and I’ll take care of the last of the chores when I come in for the night. You be safe, and for goodness’ sake, latch that door behind me when I leave.”

I stood as they did. “Yes, sir.”

As he opened the door, I noticed darkness descending. Snow had already begun to swirl around us as Aaron pulled on his coat and boots and traipsed out into the night. It was only a short walk from our house, but still, I worried.

“Maybe it’d be best if Matthew stays with us for the night?” I asked, suddenly concerned. What if the snow flew harder? What if Aaron got lost in the dark, or an animal attacked him? Aaron shook his head as he bent down to kiss me. Matthew had already gone up ahead and was untying Rascal from the fence post.

“No need to worry ma,” he said. “If Matthew doesn’t come home, she’ll be right up in arms about it. She might assume he was with us, but I’d rather her not worry. And anyway,” he said, his voice dropping low. “My plans for tonight don’t involve having my brother here just the other side of our door.”

I flushed and bit my lip, my head dipping low as his hand looped around my waist.

“Now you be a good girl and latch this door behind me. So help me, girl, you don’t want to start this night over my knee.”

I was feeling a bit naughty at that point. “Don’t I?”

I wondered at times if there was something unusual about me, when I was so attracted to his power over me. But I had no one to share my thoughts with save Aaron, and he delighted in my interest in the bedroom. He chuckled low.

“Now, young lady, you know what I mean. You be a good girl and do what I say, and that trip over my knee might be a good one, instead of the kind you
don’t
like. You hear?” His fingers traveled to my scalp and he tugged my head back, pulling it tight enough to tingle but not so roughly that it hurt. His mouth found mine and my chest rose as our lips met. Then he released me, traipsing ahead of me. I watched him as long as I dare, before he turned to me and gave me a serious look. Quickly, I scooted into the house and shut and latched the door.

I was thankful I had chores to keep my hands busy, as I was nervous as all get out about the ‘plans’ he had for me, not to mention the fact that I was alone and needed him with me. Night was coming. It was cold out, and I didn’t know what time he would be back. There were so very many things on my mind… Matthew, and his friend Hannah. Was she all right? Was her ma? Would Geraldine stop tormenting the poor boy or would he learn to keep his mouth closed? Would Aaron be back soon?

And what exactly did he have planned for when he got back?

The dishes were wiped and put away and the floor swept thoroughly when I sat in front of the fire with my knitting. I was trying desperately to get a nice red muffler made for Aaron for Christmas, but having to hide it when he was home was making it more and more difficult to get my stitches in. Ma told me not to fret, as menfolk didn’t notice such things and he’d likely never think it was for him, but I didn’t trust that. Aaron missed nothing.

I eyed the small stack of magazines and papers Matthew had gotten me from town. It seemed a surprisingly busy time to travel, as there were more discarded reading materials than usual. I wondered if Aaron would have me read to him before we went to bed. He was usually insistent I read to him before bed, and often, he would reward me with a story of my own. But I needed to finish the knitting.

My needles flashed and my hands flew, weaving the vibrant yarn into neat rows. I thought of Christmas, what I would make for ma, and what we could do for Matthew, when the brisk knock sounded at the door. We had a telltale knock—three sharp ones and a shorter one, so that I could easily know it was Aaron and open it quickly for him. I leapt to my feet, so excited for my husband to come home, eager for him to come in from the cold, that I lifted the latch and yanked the door open without thought.

He looked like a veritable snowman. He was covered. I stepped aside so he could come in from the cold.

Shaking off the snow, he tapped his boots and entered the cabin, snow falling off him in sheaths, little piles of it falling in front of the fire and melting into tiny puddles. I quickly reached to help him, removing his layers, my fingers smarting from the chill as he continued to undress. I grabbed the broom and quickly swept up the flakes into a pile by the door, then hastened to fill a small cup with what remained, as Aaron stepped in front of the fire and rubbed his hands briskly.

“That snow’s coming down hard and fast,” he said. “It’s already piled against the door of the barn. By the time I got Matthew home, it was thick upon the woodpile.”

I could’ve told him I knew this, as the
Farmer’s Almanac
told me, but I kept my tongue.

“Here,” I insisted, taking his reddened hands against me. “Warm your hands on me.” I tucked his fingers under my arms and held fast, letting the warmth of my body warm his fingers. His eyes twinkled at me.

“Warmin’ me up, are you, girl?” he said. His voice had grown husky, and I knew by now where this was going.

“Actually, no, I changed my mind,” I said, releasing him and spinning around, on my way to hide the knitting I suddenly remembered was out in plain sight. But as I spun around I felt his hands on my waist and I was hoisted straight up into the air. I screamed, kicking my legs, as he tossed me over his shoulder and marched with purposeful strides to our room.

“Ohhh, let me down, you barbarian!” I shouted, though I was laughing, pounding my little fists on his broad back. ‘Barbarian’ was a word I had learned just last week, reading through a thick novel with Aaron, one of the few he owned that were his father’s. He delivered a sharp swat to my bottom as I kicked, but as soon as the first hard swat fell, I felt my arousal flame to life. There was something about the playful smack that caused my cheeks to flush and warmth to spread between my legs.

So, naturally, I kicked again, scissoring my legs, which earned me three more firm swats and a less-than-playful, “Girl, that’s
enough
,” which got me tingling even more. Something about his bossy nature both grated and attracted me, and I loved poking him. It was ever so much fun seeing just how far I could taunt him without getting him truly upset with me. A playful spanking was much more preferable to the real kind of licking he’d give me if I disobeyed.

He marched me to our room, sat on the bed, and drew me across my lap. My skirts were lifted so quickly they fell about my head, the ruffled edge of my petticoat tickling my ears as he unfastened my drawers, and his hand fell down hard. I howled at the first stinging smack, but then I was straddling one of his knees. He was being rough with me, though not too rough, and there was something about the way he yanked me over his knee and smacked my bottom that made me moan out loud. He tucked a finger between my legs.

“You naughty little girl,” he said, his voice husky with arousal. “Think I didn’t notice how eager you are for me?” I giggled as he delivered another sharp, but not unpleasant, wallop. My warmed bottom tingled and my lady parts tingled even more. “Naughty, naughty,” he said. “Kickin’ your legs and talkin’ back to me. Think I wouldn’t whip you for it?”

“Nope! I’m a good girl, with no needs for such barbaric consequences!” It was fun using my new vocabulary.

“I ought to get my quirt to whip your naughty little backside.”

Part of me wondered what that would be like.

“Too snowy out,” I said. “I’d be asleep under the covers before you’d come back, and you’d have to thaw out before you were ready to bed me.”

His hand landed again just below the crease of my bottom, this time a little harder than before. I squealed, but he was not relenting.

“Then I ought to fetch your spoon from the kitchen. Nice, solid wood, sturdy enough to withstand your brazen little bottom.”

I winced then, as the thought of a licking with the wooden spoon was not at all pleasant. “But I’ve been so good! I even baked you a pie today!”

“It looked burned to me.”
Whack!

“I’ll give you burned!” I said, intentionally squirming even harder, which caused him to yank me back down over his lap.

“Then my belt,” he said, his voice growing stern. “And it’s right here,” he said, releasing me and reaching for his waist. I gasped, and suddenly worried that I’d pushed too far. It seemed I had, as the buckle came undone and slithered it from the loopholes of his trousers.

“Ohhh, Aaron, I’ve been good! Really, no need for you to—for that thing to—I don’t know if I—
owww
!”

He landed the first stinging swat, and I felt a flash of pain quickly replaced by warmth. It wasn’t at all as hard as it was the time he’d whipped me, and my arousal had reached new heights. I squirmed against his thigh, and my leg grazed the edge of his hard erection. He was enjoying this as much as I was. I shivered as the leather trailed against my bottom before he lifted it again. The whiz through the air warned me before the second sting of his belt bit into me. I moaned. I was building, my desire for him mounting with every second that passed.