The Marshal's Little Girl (3 page)

Gage rubbed his chin. Why would she leave half her money at a little hole-in-the-wall town, unless…? His eyes widened.

“Asa, did you inspect that money?”

“Inspect it?”

“Listen.” Gage leaned forward. “You know I’m leaving here to join the U.S. marshal’s office. One of the things they told me when I got hired is that they were looking for a man with instinct, and that’s something I have that they like. I’m using it now, Asa. I need you to get a wad of those bills and bring them here.”

Asa looked dubious, but rose just the same. A moment later, he returned with a stack of cash and a jeweler’s scope. He grumbled something about ‘a lot of nonsense’ as he sat down. Gage watched him patiently, his chin resting on tented fingers. When he saw the banker’s shoulders suddenly stiffen a few moments later, he wasn’t surprised.

“Got something?” He leaned forward.

Asa didn’t respond. He grabbed another bill, then another, examining two places on each one.

“Son of a bitch.” He looked up at Gage. “You were right. Damn it all…” He stood, pulling on his coat. “And we’ve sent a note ahead to another bank, a small one in a town like this with no decent sheriff to speak of. Come noon tomorrow, somebody at the other end of the line can go withdraw every dime of those funds with nobody to stop them, and we’ll be on the hook for it.”

Gage rose to his feet, feeling sorry for the banker but vindicated in his conviction that something was wrong. Asa had already rushed over to the wire office, no doubt with the futile hope of sending a message that would make it to the bank before the money did.

Now there was only one other thing for the sheriff to do, but he had to think ahead. The stage wasn’t due for three more days. He went to the livery and asked if the pretty blond visitor had inquired about hiring a wagon to take her out of town. The livery owner said she had not. Gage didn’t believe him, and reminded the man that lying to the sheriff could land him in jail. But the livery owner stuck by the story and Gage felt himself back to square one.

He was on his way out of the livery when a soft whicker caught his attention. He turned to stare into a roomy stall at the thoroughbred colt Wilhelmina James had purchased. Gage walked over to the animal.

No… surely not…

He had another hunch. Turning, he informed the livery owner that the sheriff would be sleeping in the stable that night, but he expected that knowledge to be kept under wraps.

Chapter Five

She’d left an envelope at the front desk with stage fare for her luggage and instructions on where it should be sent. Wilhelmina packed what she thought she would need in a pair of saddlebags—some food, a jacket, and a pair of gloves in case the reins chafed her hands.

She’d donned boy’s clothing, and tied up her hair in a bandana before putting on a hat. In the looking glass, the image of an effeminate youth stared back at her. It wasn’t the first time she’d looked upon this reflection. Simon had taught her a thing or two about blending in, about adapting, about disguise. He’d trained cruelly, but he’d trained her well.

The door clicked softly behind her as she slung the saddlebags over her shoulder. In the lobby of the boardinghouse, a man who’d come in from the saloon and made it as far as an easy chair slouched, snoring loudly.

It was nearly a full moon. She’d have preferred a half moon, with just enough light to see by. But this was still better than no moon. She knew the prairie between here and the next town was probably riddled with gopher holes. She’d need to keep an eye out.

The livery was quiet. Wilhelmina clucked softly to the colt, which regarded her with curious eyes as she removed a saddle and bridle from racks on the wall. She’d grown up around horses, and knew all about them.

The thoroughbred wasn’t just well bred. He was also well trained, and stood quietly while Wilhelmina saddled him. Next came the bridle, and she had a little trouble getting the tall horse to drop his head, but finally managed to fit the back behind his ears. All she needed now was the saddlebags. She turned to pick them up and froze.

Gone. She was sure she’d laid them across the barrel just to her left. Her heart began to pound and she reached into the pocket of the light jacket she wore, but just as she did, she felt a strong arm around her body trapping her own arms.

“Hey! Let me go!”

Her captor ignored her, reaching down to wrench the gun out of her hand.

“Do you have any other weapons?”

She recognized that voice. Her heart pounded harder.

“Let me go! I’ve not done anything wrong!”

“Answer me! Do you have any other weapons?” Gage’s voice was stern.

She stomped down, the heel of her boot crunching the instep of his foot. The shock of it caused Gage to relax his grip just enough for her to bolt, but a long arm caught the back of her jacket and he hauled her back. Gage restrained her again and frisked her, his large, calloused hand roaming over her clothes.

“Is this how you get your kicks? Molesting little boys? Is that what you are? A boy lover?”

He ignored her taunts. “I knew you weren’t any boy when you walked in, Wilhelmina James,” he said. “Or should I call you Billy, given your mode of dress?”

“You can call me ‘gone,’ you sonofabitch!” She was losing her temper now. “Unless you’ve got a good reason to be manhandling me.” She kicked back at his leg and missed.

“I’ve got a few good reasons,” he said, putting an arm around her waist and dragging her toward the stall where the horse was tethered just outside the door. “We’ll start with counterfeiting and work our way back from there.” Wilhelmina, even more afraid now, continued to kick and struggle as he took her horse by the bridle and put him back in the stall. Then, throwing the young woman over his shoulder, he headed out.

“Where are you taking me?” she asked.

“To the jailhouse,” he said.

“No!” She pounded on his back and twisted angrily to no avail, her trepidation increasing with every long stride he took. Her anxiety was only heightened when he took her not to a cell, but to a small room off to the side of the jailhouse. After dropping her to her feet, Gage locked the door behind him and spun to face her.

“There’s no way out,” he said as her eyes sought desperately for another door or a window. There wasn’t one, and 6′2″ of muscular sheriff stood between her and the only exit. “Start explaining yourself.”

“I don’t have to.” She crossed her arms and raised her chin to a defiant tilt.

“Oh?” Gage shrugged off his jacket and began to roll up his sleeves.

“What are you doing?” Wilhelmina eyed him nervously.

“Getting ready to treat you like I’d treat any other boy I caught about to skip town after stealing.”

“Now, just wait,” she said, backing up. “First of all, I’m a woman…”

“Are you?” He quirked an eyebrow as he advanced on her, and for the first time Wilhelmina realized how handsome the sheriff was, with his dark brown hair curling slightly at his collar, and the five o’clock shadow on his sturdy, square jaw.

She stood almost mesmerized as he continued to roll up his sleeves. “The way I see it, you’re Billy. I mean, that’s how you wanted people to see you, right? Just a young boy riding across the range, and not a young woman who just robbed a bank of several thousand dollars.” He grabbed her by the arm, hard enough to make her wince. “So who are you working for, Billy?”

It was, she realized, a reckless act of defiance. But Wilhelmina knew that it might be the last shot she’d get in before Sheriff Gage Chandler did whatever he was going to do. Later, she’d reflect on how literally spitting in that handsome face had only made things worse. But at the time, seeing his shocked expression had almost been worth it.

Almost.

It was his calm that terrified her, as Gage slowly wiped the spittle away and then sat down in a chair he pulled across the floor. He still had a grip on her arm and threw her across his lap with enough force to knock the wind out of her. The back of her jacket he flung up over her head, so she found herself looking down at the floor in near darkness. She still hadn’t comprehended that she was about to be spanked like a naughty child until she felt the first blow slam down across her tight buttocks.

Wilhelmina screamed. There was no other word for it. When Gage Chandler said he’d treat her like a boy, he’d meant it. He didn’t hold back as he began to thrash her bottom with his open hand.

* * *

“Who are you working for?” He spoke over her wails as he readjusted his grip and began to aim his swats on the lower portion of her buttocks. When she refused to answer, he began to jerk down her trousers, ignoring her sudden and fevered protestations.

“No, please…”

That’s better,
he thought. It was about time the little minx showed some contrition. By the pitch of her cries, he could tell she was already close to the breaking point, even before he bared her and went to work on the small bottom with renewed vigor.

It had been a while since he had been with a woman, and the sight of her tight, round ass nearly unmanned him. Gage had become aware of his growing erection. He’d shifted slightly so it wouldn’t jut into her, but now there was no denying that she probably felt it as she lay tightly pressed over his lap, her legs churning as he spanked her.

Wilhelmina was in an open-mouthed, infantile bawl now, and had kicked her trousers free of her scissoring legs.

“All right! All right! I’ll tell you! Just stop!” Her voice was raspy through her cries. “Just let me up!”

He stopped spanking but kept her as she was, pulling the hem of the jacket from where it was flung over her head so he could hear her better. He could see that in her struggles the cloud of blond curly hair had come free of its binding to cascade nearly to the floor.

“You’ll tell me face down over my lap, Billy,” he said. “It’ll save me the trouble of getting you back into position if I don’t believe you. Now talk.” He squeezed a well-punished cheek in warning and she yelped.

“It wasn’t my idea,” she said pitifully. “It was his…”

“Whose?” He squeezed harder.

“Simon. He… he controls me!”

“And this Simon… he put you up to this?”

Wilhelmina nodded pitifully, not knowing what was more terrifying—telling or not telling the truth. “He told me to come h-h-here,” she continued miserably. “He told me what to do. He told me to a-a—avoid detection. But you found me out and now I’m in so much trouble!” She burst into tears again and Gage tipped her back up to her feet, turning her to face him.

“What kind of trouble?”

“I don’t want Simon to be disappointed in me!” It was as if she didn’t hear him. He noticed that her voice had taken on a curiously innocent, childlike tone. And he noticed something else, too; Gage had been with enough women to recognize the scent of arousal, and he lowered his eyes now to trail his gaze down her midsection to her thighs. They were slick with a sheen of wetness, and he was astounded. The little firebrand may have howled like a banshee during her spanking, but she had been turned on the whole time. He lifted the tail of her shirt, exposing a perfectly shaved pussy with perfect, pouty labia. The inner labia were obviously engorged, the hood of her clit peeking tantalizingly through the top of the slit.

And then it happened. She moved closer to his hand until her pelvis grazed it. And she moaned.

“Oh, sheriff,” she said. “I’m so sorry I’m such a bad girl. Please don’t tell on me!” Her eyes locked with his and she straddled his leg, lowering herself onto his knee. He could feel the dampness through his pant leg. She was rubbing herself against him, and then wrapping her arms around his neck. Her hair smelled like lilacs and Gage found his mouth moving to her ear. She moaned again, pressing her breasts against him through the thin linen shirt. She wore no undergarment underneath. He could feel her nipples, surprisingly large on the small breasts, hard as pebbles.

He was normally a man of restraint, but the next thing he knew, her shirt was open and one of those nipples was in his mouth. He drew hard on it, and she responded by wrapping her legs around his waist and arching her back. His cock felt like an iron rod.

No. Don’t. She’s your prisoner.

His mind all but screamed reason, but her submission was triggering something within him. And it wasn’t just her body, but the words she was now saying.

“I’m yours, now,” she said. “I can’t fight you. I won’t fight you. I don’t want to fight you. I just want to be a good girl. Let me show you what a good girl I can be.”

She slid off his lap, looking up at him, keeping eye contact as her nimble hands undid the front of his trousers. His cock was achingly, unbelievably hard, and the feel of her hot little mouth sliding over the head was almost too much to take. He endured it for two, three, four strokes and then decided he could not take another moment without tasting her. The soft musk of her was still strong in his nose, and he lifted her roughly and moved her over to a table, laying her back and grabbing her ass to pull her toward him. She whimpered as his head moved between her legs; her slick folds were soft and fragrant and salty, the clit hard beneath his tongue. He swirled the tip around it, coaxing it further from its hood and then captured it in a sucking grasp, his hand cupping her hot bottom cheeks as her hips thrust upwards.

She was crying out her orgasm when he raised himself to standing and pushed into her. She was obviously no virgin, but this woman was nearly tight as one. She was still pulsing from a powerful orgasm, the motion drawing his cock in. He pounded her hard, and again she wrapped her legs around him in a surprisingly strong grip, moaning with abandon.

“Oh, please, sir… oh, please…” Was she asking for less or more? “I’ve been a bad girl. Please, punish me! Please! Fuck my ass!”

He wasn’t sure he’d heard right, but she was pushing him back now and standing, her look so innocent, so provocative—this woman-child who now turned to bend submissively over the desk. She parted her legs and arched her back. He could see her slit dripping with her cream, and just above it the dusky, tight rosebud of her anus.