Coming Home to Wyoming (Peaceful Valley Series Book 1) (5 page)

At the first swat, she began howling—not out of pain, certainly, because Griff was a long way from doing his best. Eileen a ‘Roon was simply mad as a wet hen about being made to do something she didn’t want to do.

She didn’t really fight being spanked. It was going to happen with or without her cooperation, and even she recognized that he wasn’t going to
hurt
her—not much, anyway. What she resented was being spanked like a child by a man about whom she had begun to have some very
grown-up
feelings. Having a man looking down at your backside, and worse yet, smacking it with his bare hand, was embarrassing, and… well, just not
ladylike
.

Around twenty solid, barehanded whacks across her squirming backside, and it was over—for Griff anyway. She’d been wrong about one thing, though. The spanking had hurt. Her behind was stinging like fire, and she knew that if she could manage to get away somewhere and drop her drawers to sneak a look, both of her throbbing bottom cheeks would be covered in red splotches, and maybe even a couple of achy red handprints, as well.

For a fella who’s been to college
, she thought irritably,
and knows about Amos Whoever Mozart, he’s a damned sight better at setting someone’s ass on fire than he has a right to be.

The following morning, after a restless night on the hard ground, with more time spent tossing and turning than sleeping, Griff woke up hoping to have a better day with his rebellious traveling companion than they’d had the day before. One look at the darkening sky told him they were in for a major storm, though, which made it even more important to get moving. When he went to get the girl up, though, he found her already awake, dressed, and talking to Jack—and feeding him the last of the hard biscuits he’d planned for their breakfast. His usually loyal “one-man horse” had obviously taken a fancy to Miss O’Malley during their days together on the road, and had begun following her around like a lovesick pup when he wasn’t tethered to something. While Griff had always been partial to women who got along well with horses, he would have admitted to being jealous—if being jealous of a damned horse hadn’t seemed sort of petty and unmanly.

Maybe because of that fleeting twinge of jealousy, his first words to Eileen a’Roon that morning were brusque, bordering on just plain rude. He immediately regretted his tone, and then wondered
why
he was feeling sorry for what he’d said. The girl had been a giant pain in his ass since the day they met, and it was beginning to look like she was going to be an even bigger one when they reached Rainbow Water.

He was also mildly regretting the whipping he’d given her yesterday, puzzled why she was so damned good at getting under his skin. He’d always regarded himself as a patient man, quiet, easy-going, and ready to walk away from a fight whenever possible. Unless the other side forced the issue, of course, in which case Griff was always more than willing to beat the shit out of whoever it was—and
then
walk away.

Unfortunately, neither of those options was available to him. Any sort of “beating” involving a woman was completely out of the question, of course, and something he couldn’t imagine himself doing under any circumstances. He’d already gone as far as he wanted to in that direction with the several pretty hard spankings he’d already delivered. The real problem for Griff was that he was just beginning to realize that he was going to have a hard time walking
away
from her, either.

* * *

They started on the last leg of the journey with Eileen a’Roon sullen and silent, but obviously not quite subdued, which worried Griff. If she was planning to simply hold her fire until they reached the Goodspeeds’ place, and
then
explode with anger, there was no telling how Martha and Abner would react. Offering a homeless waif a place in their lives and their peaceful home was one thing. Taking in a half-tamed female wildcat who expressed her dissatisfaction by spewing obscenities might be more than they wanted to deal with.

He hadn’t expected the girl to be overjoyed about staying with the Goodspeeds, but to Griff’s way of thinking, she should at least be grateful that he wasn’t going to send her back to the orphanage, and try to understand that at this point, it was one or the other. She could spend the next few years in what she, herself, had described as a stinking hellhole, or in a warm, loving home with a good family who’d make sure that she got a decent education.

Griff didn’t like it, but the fact was, Eileen a ‘Roon O’Malley was old enough to make her own decision. All he could do now, was hope that she’d keep her damned mouth shut, and make the right one.

* * *

Late that afternoon, when they were less than five miles short of reaching the pretty little ranch house at Rainbow Water, she
did
make her own decision—by taking Jack and running away.

She had left his saddlebags, Jack’s saddle and bridle, and—printed in child-like block letters on one of the saddle bags—a note:

“SORRY ABOUT YOUR HORSE.”

Griff swore under his breath most of the way to the Goodspeed home. Not a long walk in good weather, but in a cold, drenching rain, with almost no sleep, his leg aching, and hauling close to sixty pounds of leather saddle and wet gear on alternating shoulders, it might just as well have been
twenty
miles. He passed the time on the long, muddy walk by planning the finer details of what he was going to do to Clarinda-Gertie-Eileen a ‘Roon when he caught up with her. By mile three, he had more or less settled on his own wide leather belt, with the culprit sprawled facedown over whatever was convenient—repentant, and minus her drawers. He’d let Jack stand there and watch—as a much-needed object lesson.

* * *

With the rain pounding on the roof, Martha apparently didn’t hear him knocking. She finally opened the door on his fifth knock, and promptly squealed with delight when she saw him standing on her front porch in a spreading puddle of muddy water. He was soaked to the skin and shivering, and the first thing Martha wanted to do was feed him.

“For the love of God, woman, let the poor man warm up first!” Abner exclaimed, pulling Griff through the door and putting a woolen blanket over his friend’s trembling shoulders. “You can stuff him to the gills later, when he’s not frozen half to death.” He guided Griff closer to the blazing fire in the parlor’s big stone fireplace, and quickly placed an extra chair in front of the hearth.

“What’s thee doing out in this deluge, Friend Harper? On such a night, Noah himself would be home warming his backside by the fire.” He turned to his wife with a cheerful request. “Will thee go and ask Daniel to see to Griff’s horse, Martha my love, while I pester our damp friend with foolish questions?”

Griff raised a weary hand. “Don’t have the boy go out in the rain, Abner. I
walked
here, from that place around five miles back, where the creek crosses the road.”

“Thee
walked
?” Martha cried. “Did thy horse run off, or go lame on thee?”

Griff sighed. “Not exactly. The young woman I was bringing here to meet you took it into her head to…”

“
Woman!
” she repeated jubilantly. “Has thee finally found thee a wife, then?”

He shook his head. “She’s only a girl, Martha, barely sixteen, and…”

Martha’s face fell, and she shook her head vigorously. “Is thee sure thee’s thought on this long enough?” she asked. “Thee’s thirteen years and seven months older than this girl. All well and good in our grandmothers’ day, but today…”

“I’m not planning on
marrying
her, Martha,” he interrupted. “She’s just…”

At this point, Abner jumped in and added to the confusion. “Shame on thee, Griffin! Would thee truly take a young woman of such tender years into thy bed, and have her live in sin?”

“Just hold on for a minute,” Griff protested, “
both
of you! I’m not going to marry her, and I’m sure as hell not fu— not
sleeping
with her. She ran away from some orphans’ home, doesn’t want to go back, and has no family or a place to live. I knew that after having your three boys, you still wanted a girl, Martha, and I brought
this
one here on a half-baked notion that you might want to take her in until she’s of age, or at least ready to get along on her own.”

Suddenly, the atmosphere in the room changed for the better, even though Martha had now begun crying.

“Of course, we’ll take her,” Abner said, pointing one finger at his weeping wife. “Will thee look at the woman? She’s already planning hope chests and wedding dresses. But, what of this young woman’s character? Did thee not just say she’d stolen your horse?”

Griff backtracked quickly. “Not stolen, Abner. It’s was more like she
borrowed
him without asking permission.”

Abner frowned. “Thee’ll forgive me, Griffin, but that sounds a good deal like stealing.”

Martha wiped her eyes. “And when has that stopped thee before, Abner Goodspeed?” she demanded. “The Lord tells us not to judge, does He not?”

Abner smiled and patted Griff on the shoulder. “Do thee know which way the young thief might have gone with thy horse?”

Griff shrugged. “Damned if I know,” he swore, and then winced when he looked at Martha. “Sorry, Martha. It just kinda slipped out before I could catch it.”

She laughed. “Thee’ll need to watch thy tongue,” she advised him, “unless thee wishes to be a bad influence on this young lady. And if thee were a bit younger, and not as tall as thee’s gotten, that ‘
slip’
would earn thee a trip to the woodshed, and a good switching on thy bare bottom.” When she started toward the kitchen, Griff knew that he’d be going to bed that night with a massive case of indigestion. Martha had always subscribed to the theory that there was no such thing as too much pot roast and cherry cobbler, and that a hearty meal cured everything from a mild case of the sniffles to hoof and mouth disease.

As comfortable as it was, being in the warm, welcoming home of good friends, though, Griff knew that at first light tomorrow morning, he’d have to go out and start looking for Jack, and for the young horse rustler who’d led him astray. Considering everything she’d done since they met, Griff was reluctant to admit that he even cared what happened to the girl—but he was worried, just the same. Not seriously worried, maybe, since the area was relatively safe these days. The wolf population had been pretty well wiped out by bounty hunters and local ranchers worried about their stock. Coyotes were not a serious threat, and she was unlikely to run across a grizzly at this time of year. Besides, Jack had what amounted to a sixth sense for knowing when a bear was around.

The chances were good that she’d simply holed up somewhere by now, trying to make it through the night without getting any colder and wetter than she already was. As he helped himself to a third helping of Martha’s fragrant, steaming pot roast, though, he felt a small stab of guilt for the pleasure he was taking in knowing that stubborn little Eileen a’ Roon O’Malley was about to pass a long, miserable night in the dark. Cold, wet, and alone—except for his own ungrateful horse.

* * *

A cold, gray morning light was already showing through Martha’s simple muslin curtains by the time Griff began to stir. He had forced himself awake and begun pulling on his pants when he heard a soft knock on the door. A moment later, Abner opened the bedroom door and came in.

“Thee’d best come downstairs, Griff,” he announced, grinning broadly. “Thee has a visitor.”

“
I
have a visitor?” Griff mumbled, still half awake, but Abner had already left the room. Griff finished dressing quickly, and went downstairs barefoot, fumbling to tuck in the tail of his shirt.

Eileen a ‘Roon was seated at the kitchen table, with a heavy blanket around her shoulders, and Griff was surprised at the wave of relief that swept over him, seeing her safe and all in one piece. Her face was pale, and she was wearing a dress that was much too big for her. In the oversized dress, and with her snarled hair still dripping, she looked like a doll someone had left out in the rain, but all that mattered now, was that she had made it here safely, with no visible injuries. After walking five miles in a downpour, he had wanted more than anything else to find this irritating girl, take her over his knee, and wallop her stubborn behind until she was howling for mercy. But now, seeing her pale and cold, huddled under a blanket, all he wanted was take her in his arms and sit by the fire with her in his lap—to keep her close to him until the color returned to her face, and until her body felt dry against his own.

And
after
she was warm and dry, he’d get to the walloping—and do his damnedest to make up for at least
some
of his sleepless nights and pointless worrying.

The problem for Griff was that the hardest part of what he’d come here to do was still in front of him. Mercifully, Martha and Abner had already done their share, by agreeing to let her stay. The fact was, they seemed to be genuinely overjoyed at the prospect of sharing their home with a rebellious, profane, half-literate runaway who’d made it abundantly clear to everyone within earshot that she didn’t
want
to stay here, and would like more than anything else to put a load of birdshot in
his
butt for bringing her here in the first place.

Martha sat down next to Eileen a’ Roon, and tucked the blanket closer around the girl’s shoulders.

“Thee’s heard what Griffin would have thee do, and what Abner and myself would like for thee,” she said, in her usual patient, kindly way of speaking. “Now, we will listen and not speak while thee tells us what
thee
wishes to do.”

Suddenly, Griff realized that he had never bothered to ask that one simple question. Because he was still thinking of her as a child, all
he’d
done was give her a choice of two things that he already knew that she
didn’t
want to do.

After a few moments, while she was obviously trying to come up with an answer that wouldn’t hurt Martha’s feelings, the girl said simply, “I guess I ain’t too sure, just yet.”

Martha nodded. “I see. Well, then, could thee perhaps see thyself staying with us just a while, until thee knows thy mind? Thee may stay as long as thee wishes, and have my word that thee’ll be treated as one of our own. And when thee wants to leave, neither Abner nor myself will stand in thy way. Neither will we ask that thee love us as thee would thy own parents, though if thee chooses to do that, one day, we will see it as a blessing from God.”