Peppermint Sticks for Susie (19 page)

"Maybe that's the wrong way to go about it, son," Clyde said thoughtfully. "Sometimes actions speak louder than words. Once you've got her attention real good, she'll be more willing to listen to what you have to say."

Steve considered the man's words, then boldly asked, "You ever done that, Clyde?"

"Oh, my Maggie has earned a few good lessons over the years. The thing is, you got to make sure she knows you love her. Maggie is very loving after a good paddling. You need to make sure that the spanking is the end of it, too, son. You offer forgiveness, then move on, and you keep it private between the two of you. Alex was wrong to give Miss Jenny that spanking out there on the bench. He just lost his temper, and while I understand how angry a female can make a man, it don't excuse him making the spanking public. Respect goes both ways."

Steve thought on those words for a while, then got to his feet and sat his cup on the Sheriff's desk. "I appreciate the words of wisdom, Clyde, and I will let Nellie know you apologized for making that comment. I believe I will tell her that I agreed with you, however." He winked, and feeling better than he had for a very long time, Steve headed home.

Sheriff Clyde poured himself a second cup of coffee, and then settled in to tackle the newest wanted posters. It wasn't but a second later that the door flew open and a couple of kids ran inside.

"Sheriff, Sheriff! Come quick! There's been shots inside the Beckley house..."

Chapter Thirteen

Steve Foster let himself inside his house and called out that he was home. No one answered. He was early, and Nellie was probably still at her mother's house. And his boys were still at school. He decided to walk out to the kitchen and see what he could find to eat. He was suddenly starving, and grateful for a little time alone to think before Nellie returned. It was time he took control of his marriage. He was afraid his boys were getting the wrong impression; namely, that the woman of the house called the shots and the man had to see to it that she had everything she wanted when she wanted it. It was time he set a better example; it was time he taught his wife that her behavior was out of line. He loved her too much to permit her to continue defying him when it came to spending money, and overruling any decisions he made concerning the boys. No, it couldn't continue. Enough was enough.

He found some ham and sliced off enough for a sandwich. He cut two slices of bread, and put the ham between the slices before he decided that some of Nellie's bread and butter pickles would be good, too. He lifted the top piece of bread and generously piled on the pickles. He then found some potato salad, which she probably made for their supper. He didn't care; he was hungry now, and he was in his own home and he was going to eat! He poured a glass of milk, then sat down and took the first bite. "Good," he said aloud.

Steve heard the front door open and he prepared himself for the probable scold that Nellie was going to deliver. If she got too nasty, she was in for a surprise. He'd had enough. "Hello, dear," he said when she walked into the kitchen.

"Steve! What are you doing here?" she asked.

"I live here," he replied, giving her a smile.

"Are you ill?" she questioned, and before he could answer she put the palm of her hand on his forehead. "You don't have a fever," Nellie announced.

"I felt like taking the afternoon off, so I closed early. I gave Andy the afternoon off, too. He was grateful to have some extra time to spend with his bride."

"Look at this mess!" Nellie put her hands on her hips. "I can't believe you did this, Steve; I had this kitchen spotless!" She glared at him, and then continued berating him. "You are eating the potato salad I fixed for our supper tonight!"

"It's good, too, Nellie." She just continued to glare at him. "I didn't have time for lunch today," he explained, then took another bite of his sandwich.

"You put half a jar of pickles on that sandwich!" she accused.

"Nellie, are you trying to start an argument?" Steve demanded. "I work hard to earn money for us to live on. If I want to sit at the kitchen table in my house and eat a meal, then I should be able to do it without catching hell from you."

"Do not use that language, Steve Foster!" Nellie was incensed.

"Nellie, I'm tired of your scolding me every time I set foot inside this house. Settle down right now or I'm going to settle you down in a way you won't like," he promised.

"You wouldn't dare!" Nellie immediately stated, turning up her chin and looking at him warily. She knew her heart was pounding. Steve was acting so differently... But, she couldn't just stand here and meekly permit him to threaten her! "I insist you clean up that mess right NOW!" she ordered, stomping her foot for emphasis.

Steve got to his feet and calmly put his sandwich down on his plate. He then picked up a towel and wiped his hands dry.

"That was a clean dish towel!" Nellie screeched. She watched as he laid it on the table and then turned to face her. He took a couple of steps toward her and before she could guess his intentions, he grabbed her wrist and pulled her over to his chair at the table.

Steve pulled the chair farther from the table; then he sat and pulled Nellie face-down over his lap. She immediately tried to get up. He easily held her down with his left arm around her waist, and then brought his right hand down where he thought her backside was hiding under her skirts. She hollered and he figured he must be doing it right.

"You'd just better stop this nonsense right now, Steve Foster, or I will have you arrested!"

"I doubt the Sheriff is going to arrest me, Nellie. My guess is that he'd tell you this spanking is long overdue." He spanked her again, and couldn't feel a thing. "How damn many layers are you wearing, Mrs. Foster?" he asked, frustrated. He started flipping them up until he finally reached her drawers. This time when he spanked her butt, she hollered convincingly. "That is much better, but a married woman should be spanked on the bare, don't you agree, Nellie?" She kicked and fought him, but it was fairly easy for him to untie the yellow ribbon on her fancy drawers and jerk them down to her knees. "I like this much better," he declared, and then started spanking in earnest, his hand warming her bottom cheeks and setting a fire that shocked Nellie to the core.

Nellie could not believe this was happening! What had come over Steve? He was acting like that horrible Alex Martin! "I won't allow this, Steve!" she told him. "Stop!" She was in pain.

"No, Nellie. You've needed this spanking ever since we got married. I am not your child to be scolded and bossed around. You are going to stop overriding my decisions when it comes to the boys, too." He spanked lower, turning her upper thighs crimson to match her cheeks before he stopped again. "I expect you to show me respect, wife. Do you hear me?" he asked.

Nellie was crying so hard it was difficult to answer, but she did her best. "Yes, Steve. I hear you."

"Good. You are going to write an essay telling me how your behavior towards me influences our boys. I want at least three thousand words, spelling correct, and neatly written. You have until tomorrow evening to have it finished. Is that understood?"

"I'm not a little school girl!" she argued. "I don't have time to write essays. I need to take care of Mother and I have a meeting at the church tomorrow."

"Then I suggest you work on it tonight because you are not going anywhere tomorrow until your essay is written and lying on my desk. If you disobey me, Nellie, I will give you another spanking, and then sit you down and you will write it while I watch you."

"You are being mean and I hate you!" she screamed at him.

Steve shook his head and said, "I obviously haven't spanked you long enough." This time he spanked her sit spots with spanks that meant business. He didn't stop until he was positive that sitting was going to be very difficult for a couple of days. "Now, Nellie, is your attitude improved?"

"Yes, I'm sorry!" she sobbed.

"Sorry you are getting spanked, or sorry for your scolding attitude?" Steve asked her.

"Sorry for everything," she bawled. "Please forgive me now," she begged of him. "I'll write the essay!"

"I'm sure you will," he said, nodding his head. He pulled her drawers up over her inflamed buttocks and then he lowered her skirts before lifting her to her feet and then gently pulling her down to sit on his lap. Nellie gasped as her bottom made contact with Steve's thighs. "Nellie, I love you with all my heart. I didn't spank you because I am stronger than you, or because I dislike you, or because I wanted to hurt you. The opposite is true. I spanked you because I love you and I think you are much too sweet to act the way you've been acting. I have wanted to take you in hand for a long time, dear, but I knew your thoughts on a husband spanking his wife. Today was the final straw, however. I have to make sure you know how I feel, and I must let you know that you are not free to behave like a spoiled brat any longer, and if you do, your bottom is going to pay the price. Do you understand, Nellie?" he asked, gently tipping her chin up so he could look into her blue eyes. "You are much too sweet to act like a shrew."

Nellie nodded, and then rested her head on his chest. She was surprised at how cherished she felt right now. She knew that Steve did love her, and it was a wonderful feeling. "I love you, too, Steve. I'm sorry I've been so terrible to live with. I promise I'll do better."

"I know you will, sweetheart," he said, gently rubbing her back as he held her close.

* * *

Alex Martin heard the gunshots outside the Beckley's home and fear for Jennifer gave him speed. His first thought was that she'd somehow dropped or mishandled the new gun that Angus said she'd purchased; his second thought was that she'd accidentally shot herself. He entered the house at a run, and when he didn't see Jenny anywhere, he headed for her bedroom. What he saw when he walked through the door shocked him. Jenny was standing there looking down at the body of a dead man. She was still holding a small derringer in her hand.

Alex approached her. "It's all right now, honey. Give me the gun," he softly ordered.

"Is he dead, Alex?" she asked in a small voice.

Alex knelt beside the man, his gun still in his hand as he felt for a pulse. There wasn't one. He rolled the body over and instantly recognized Lefty Bridges.

"He was hiding in my bedroom," Jenny told him, her green eyes wide and full of tears. "He threatened me and came at me; I shot him." She started crying then, and Alex pulled her into his arms and held her close.

"You had every right to defend yourself, honey." He heard footsteps inside the house and called out, "Back here!"

"What happened here, Alex?" Sheriff Clyde asked, walking closer to look down at the body. "Oh, you got him... finally!"

"He was hiding here in Jenny's room, Clyde. I was stupid and let her come inside alone; I should have checked to make sure the house was safe before I permitted her to come inside."

"I didn't let you come inside," Jenny said, looking up at him. "You didn't do anything wrong, Alex."

"Neither did you," he answered her, his voice firm with conviction.

"No, you didn't do anything wrong, Miss Jenny," Clyde stated, finally realizing that it was the little redhead who shot Lefty Bridges, not Alex. "This one was off in the head, honey. He would have hurt you real bad if you hadn't protected yourself. As far as I'm concerned, this matter is all done. I'll send the undertaker to get him." He looked at Alex and said, "Son, get the little lady out of here and make her a cup of coffee laced with some brandy or whiskey. She's going to go into shock if you don't take good care of her."

Alex realized the Sheriff was right and he simply picked Jenny up in his arms and carried her into the parlor and laid her on the sofa. "You stay right here, Jenny. I'll be right back."

"What is going on?" Alma asked from behind him, startling him since he hadn't heard her enter the house.

"I killed Lefty Bridges, Alma!" Jenny whispered. "I'm so sorry..."

"Oh my God!" Alma knelt beside Jenny and hugged her. "You poor thing. Tell me what happened," she ordered, holding Jenny's hand.

Alex went to the kitchen and fixed a pot of coffee. When it was ready, he added a liberal splash of whiskey to Jenny's cup. He put the bottle away, and then took it out again and added a splash to his cup, too. He was still shaking at what could have happened. Some big shot Marshal he was! He was supposed to keep Jenny safe, and he very nearly allowed her to be killed! He carried the tray into the parlor and sat it on a table. Alma was sitting beside Jennifer, and they were talking in hushed tones. "Jenny, you need to drink this," he handed her a saucer with the cup balanced on top. "It will calm you down and make you feel better."

He then handed Alma a cup of coffee, fixed the way she liked it, and he picked up his cup with shaking fingers. "Alex, you're shaking!" Alma said in surprise. "Jenny is safe now."

"No thanks to me," he growled. "I lost my damned temper and every bit of common sense in the process. I never should have permitted Jennifer to walk into this house alone. What was I thinking?!"

"You were thinking that I told you to go away and leave me alone and you knew you were too angry to argue with me," Jenny spoke up. "It wasn't your fault, Alex. It was mine. I was so sure that Lefty was far away from here by now... I never dreamed I would have to use my new derringer; I knew it would make me feel safer if I was working alone and one of the cowboys came in and got a bit frisky, so I bought it. I never dreamed I would actually need it. Alex, you were so right, and I apologize for refusing to listen to you."

"I love you, Jenny," he told her, leaning over to kiss her tenderly. "Thank God you are safe now."

"I'm sure Mr. MacGregor will be happy, too. He really needs for me to come back to work, Alex. Do you think it would be alright now?" she asked.

"I do," he conceded.

"I'm going to keep my gun in my pocket," she suddenly announced.

"I am amazed that you shoot so well," he told her.

"My Dad taught me to shoot. I told Lefty that I would shoot, but he laughed and said I wouldn't."