Full Circle
Authors: Mariella Starr
Full Circle
By
Mariella Starr
©2014 by Blushing Books® and Mariella Starr
All rights reserved.
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Starr, Mariella
Full Circle
eBook ISBN:
978-1-62750-538-3
Cover Design by ABCD Graphics & Design
This book is intended for
adults only
. Spanking and other sexual activities represented in this book are fantasies only, intended for adults. Nothing in this book should be interpreted as Blushing Books' or the author's advocating any non-consensual spanking activity or the spanking of minors.
Table of Contents:
Josie Raintree had an epiphany on her eighth birthday. She didn't know what that was at the time, but that was the day she realized that she wasn't like the other children in her third-grade class. She wasn't going to have a birthday party.
She realized this during recess because she was so excited that she snuck back into her classroom expecting to see her teacher setting up for her party. All the children in her class were given a party on their birthday, right after recess. But Mrs. Thompson wasn't putting up the streamers or setting out paper cups or plates. Her teacher looked up and noticed her and smiled.
"May I help you, Josie?" Mrs. Thompson asked.
"Am I going to have a party?" Josie asked.
Mrs. Thompson looked startled. "Oh, honey, I didn't realize. Is it your birthday?"
Josie nodded.
"I'm sorry, Josie, if I had known, I would have brought you a cake."
"Don't you give everyone a party?" Josie asked.
Mrs. Thompson shook her head. "No, honey, the parents bring in the cakes and the cupcakes and the party favors. I'll tell you what, I'll go out at lunchtime and pick up some cupcakes, and we'll have a party this afternoon."
That's when Josie realized that it wasn't her teacher that made sure the kids in her class felt special on their birthdays; it was their parents. She didn't have any parents, and she would never be special. She shook her head, backed out of the classroom and ran.
Her teacher ran after her, calling to her, but she ran. She left the playground, ran home, and she locked herself in her room.
Josie cried. She cried until she couldn't cry anymore. She cried because she didn't have a Momma or a Daddy. She cried because she would never get a pretty, ruffled dress for her birthday or get to wear the sparkly crown of a birthday child. She cried because no one cared that it was her birthday—except her.
After Josie was cried out, she wiped away her tears. She crawled into the little hidey-hole closet under the eaves of the house, and she pushed the door closed. No one would find her there, and no one would know that she was a forgotten child. Josie looked around her hidey-hole where she hid her prize possessions. She would like to be a superhero, like in her comic books, but she knew that wasn't real.
She pushed aside her boxes of broken Barbies and play clothes. She didn't want to be a girl anymore. She wanted to be more like a boy. Boys were tough; boys didn't cry. She found her box of plastic cowboys and Indians and decided that's what she would be—a cowboy. There were lots of cowboys in town; they showed up for the parades and the rodeos down at the fairground.
She would be a cowboy. Josie was a determined little girl, and set about getting what she wanted. She hacked off her long black braids with a pair of scissors. She found a set of cowboy guns and holsters and a pair of too big, used cowboy boots in the rummage sale room at the Church of God. It took her several weeks of swapping and sometimes swiping, to get her cowboy gear together. At last she had everything she needed: cowboy hat, guns, boots, and even spurs. All she needed was a horse, and she knew where she could get one. There was a slight problem—the horse didn't belong to her. Jack Rawlings owned the horse she wanted, and he caught her dead to rights stealing his horse—three times.
Sixteen-year-old Jack Rawlings was considerably aggravated after chasing down his horse for the third time. He hauled Josie down off the back of his horse and delivered a light dose of discipline to her backside. He took the little hellion home and told her uncle, Mason Raintree, that he didn't have the time to keep running after a hardheaded, smart-mouthed little kid, and to keep her off his daddy's property.
Uncle Mason yelled at her and told her to get out of his sight. While Josie hid in her little hidey-hole, her uncle went back to drinking from that smelly bottle as he did every day. The next morning, all four of Jack's truck tires were flat because someone had let the air out of them. Jack couldn't prove Josie did it, but he knew, and so did she.
Josie Raintree watched Jack Rawlings grow up and mature into a young man through the eyes of a little girl eight years younger. Josie liked to keep a safe distance between them because every time Jack was near, she got into trouble. It was Jack who caught her stealing a little bottle of nail polish from the general store, marched her into the storeroom, stuck her nose in a corner and wouldn't let her out for a whole hour. He told her the punishment for stealing could be a lot worse if he called the sheriff.
Jack was the one who caught her at the top of the town water tower in the middle of the night. He climbed all the way up and carried her back down, her skinny ten-year-old arms wrapped tightly around his neck. He sat her down on the grass and talked to her a long time about behaving and accepting the consequences for her misbehavior. He scolded her about getting into so much trouble—trouble that could get her seriously injured—and he took her by the hand and walked her home. When she was fourteen, it was Jack who pulled her out of a parked car, away from the boy in it, and put the fear of God into her horny male companion.
It was always Jack's eyes that she remembered. They were a reflection of disappointment, hurt, and a lot of the time, temper. All told, Josie lost count of how many times Jack interceded to keep a little girl in desperate need of boundaries and stability, out of trouble. For seven years, she carefully plotted out her revenge plans but she rarely dared to enact them. Sometimes she tried to get him back, and that's why she knew that revenge against Jack Rawlings was not a good idea. He always knew who was behind the mischief, and he would come looking for her. That was why when Josie saw him coming in her direction, she took off in the opposite direction.
Jack Rawlings continued to keep an eagle eye on Josie until she was fifteen, and then he did an awful thing. He left town and he never came back.
Jack went off to college, but before he graduated, he joined the Navy. Later, Josie heard he was a member of one of the elite SEAL teams. Most folks in town figured Jack would never come back because he didn't get along with his family. Even when his father, Big Cal, died, Jack didn't come home for the funeral. Some folks thought it was wrong, and shook their heads saying it was shameful. By that time, Josie was a senior in high school, so she did some research and discovered that Jack's unit had deployed to the Middle East. She sent him a letter, but she never knew if he received it or not.
Eventually, Josie stopped thinking about Jack Rawlings. He'd been gone a long time, and he was part of her past. She grew up. Now, she wore a Stetson, a holstered gun, cowboy boots and a badge. But by no means was this merely the fulfillment of a childhood ambition. Josie Raintree was, in fact, the Sheriff of Rawlings, Oklahoma.
Sheriff Raintree was on routine traffic patrol today along with Deputy Clay Tucker. She parked on one side of town while her deputy was on the other side. Both of their stations were near the schools, as those were the only places in town besides Main Street that they cared if anyone was speeding or not. It was usually easy duty in a small town of slightly over eighteen hundred people, which included some of the surrounding smaller towns that still carried their names, but had pretty much dried up and disappeared over time.
Rawlings was a small town. It had one main street that was slightly less than three-tenths of a mile long. Their town had the prerequisite number of businesses necessary to keep a small town going: grocery store, pharmacy, hardware store, feed store, pizza joint and sub-shop. There were other businesses. Some of the businesses had been there for decades handed down through the generations, others were new and time would tell if they lasted. Most of them still struggled in hard times, profited in better times, but they hung on. That's what country people did; they coped and they struggled, but they didn't give up. That simple fact was one of the many reasons Josie had returned to her hometown.
The irony was she had spent years working her butt off to get out of Rawlings. As the orphaned niece of the town drunk, she was the girl that no one expected to do anything worthwhile with her life. She spent years working at waitressing, data entry, and night janitorial work in office buildings. She had taken any extra jobs that had evening or grave-shift hours. She'd taken any hours that didn't conflict with her classes. Weekends, she worked in the trades on home-renovation projects with tradesmen who earned extra money working their days off.
Josie began her quest to get out of Rawlings in high school and earned her way into an advanced placement program that paid for her first two years of college at a small Baptist University. She had transferred those credits to the University of Oklahoma where she received a specialty degree in criminal justice and investigation. After being accepted to and excelling at the state police academy, she had worked in Oklahoma City with the highway patrol for several years. Realizing she wanted more, Josie applied to a federal agency where after nearly a year of vetting, she was hired. She'd spent another year in training, and another eight years in service before handing in her badge and heading home.
Home, it turned out, was Rawlings after all. Josie had not come home to be Sheriff. She had come home for some peace.
The driver of a Jeep Wrangler pulled out of Clearwater Street, did a quick tap on the brake, but failed to come to a complete stop at the stop sign. Josie knew the vehicle was speeding. She pulled out and trailed the vehicle for four blocks before pointing her speed gun at it, and hitting her lights and siren.
The Jeep pulled over. She got out of the patrol car and walked up to the window, judging the situation as she approached. There was a big guy inside, but he wasn't reaching for anything or making any quick moves. Josie tapped on the window. It buzzed down, and she looked straight into the chocolate velvet eyes of Jack Rawlings.
"Josie?" Jack questioned after a long stare at her before recognition kicked in. He had seen her picture on the town website, but it was a really bad picture and did not do her justice. He gave her a thorough all-male appraisal. Even decked out in the masculine uniform of a Sheriff, Josie Raintree was pure woman—an exceptionally beautiful woman. She had the heart-shaped face of her youth and the high cheekbones and jet-black hair that spoke of some distant Native American heritage. The slim nose, arched brows and naturally rose-hued lips were set into a dusky tanned complexion. She had a trim body, a confident stance, and, in spite of the uniform, he could see she had developed some curves. Her long hair hung down her back in a single neat braid.
"Jack, I didn't know you were back," Josie said, removing her sunglasses and revealing smoky gray eyes. "You failed to stop at the stop sign at Clearwater and West Street, and you were going fifty miles per hour in a twenty-five zone. On top of that, you whizzed right through a school-crossing zone that was flashing yellow, which means the speed limit was fifteen. License, registration and proof of insurance, please."
Jack cranked his head around and looked down the street. Yep, yellow flashers were still going. He looked over to a new elementary school across from the flashers, and back to Josie. "You wouldn't give a guy a break, would you? That wasn't here the last time I was in town, and I wasn't paying attention."
"It's been a long time since you were in town, and some things do change even in Rawlings," Josie said. "This is a school zone, if it were anywhere else I might be more forgiving, but not in a school zone. As for admitting you weren't paying attention—that's a pretty lame excuse to give an officer of the law. May I have your documents, please?"
Jack produced the three required documents and handed them to her.
"Wait here, please," Josie said and returned to her car. Five minutes later, she handed him a ticket and recited the legalities about signing the ticket or being subject to arrest.
Jack took the pen automatically to sign, and saw the amount listed on the ticket. "Are you nuts? I'm not paying that!"
Josie didn't look surprised or bothered by his statement. "The normal fine for speeding is doubled in a school zone, and when the yellow flashers are on, the fine is tripled. If you don't know, the flashers mean children are either going to or leaving from the school premises. If you recall, we have many children in Rawlings who walk to and from school. We take the safety of those children seriously. If you refuse to sign the ticket, I will have to arrest and book you. This type of ticket is subject to six months in jail if you have to appear before the magistrate's bench. You will appear before Justice Harris Montgomery."
"Harris Montgomery is still alive?" Jack questioned.
Josie's lips twitched and almost formed a smile. "Yes, he's still alive and I believe he recently celebrated his 75th birthday. He's still as sharp as a tack, but he is getting crankier by the day. If I have to drag you in front of him, he will miss his favorite afternoon game shows on TV, and he won't be pleased. It's your choice."
"Welcome home to me," Jack quipped as he gave her a look of exasperation and signed the ticket.
"Drive more carefully, and don't forget to stop by the courthouse to pay the ticket," Josie said as she ripped off his part of the ticket and handed it to him. She gave him a tip of her hat.
Jack leaned out the window as she walked back to her patrol car. "Josie?"
"What?"
"Anybody spanked your ass, lately?"
Josie stopped, turned and gave him a long assessing stare. "Not since you left, why?"
"I'm guessing you could use a good one," Jack said, grinning. "No telling how much trouble you've been in since I left."
"It's been a long time, Jack," Josie said, tipping her sunglasses down and looking over the top of them. "I grew up, and if you were to try it now… well, all I can say is it would be a real shame that you survived all those years as a Navy SEAL unscathed, only to come home and get your gonads shot off."
Jack Rawlings parked his Jeep and walked the town where he had grown up. The town of Rawlings was named after a grandsire of his—five, six, maybe more generations back. He never could keep it straight because he never cared one way or the other. At six foot four, he was an imposing figure of hard, toned muscle. He worked hard to maintain his body as he needed to stay in shape for his job. Nineteen years was a long time, yet some people still recognized him. People who did remember asked if he was home for good. He couldn't give them an answer. He didn't know the answer himself. He hadn't survived unscathed after all his years of service. He'd spent much of his time in dangerous combat zones and special missions, which was why he was here, now—on medical leave. They should have called it mental leave. He doubted any Navy psychiatrist was going to release him back to full-duty OIC (Officer in Charge) of a SEAL team. He had doubts they would release him back into his unit at all. If he couldn't do the job, it was time to move on or get out. With only six months left to fulfill the requirements on a twenty-year retirement benefit package, he couldn't see himself walking out now. He couldn't see himself staying in, either.
Jack walked over to the courthouse to pay his ticket, and he had to deal with Wilma Sims. She was older than sin and still as uptight and pinched-mouthed as when he had sat in her sixth-grade classroom. She filled out the paperwork, scolding him the entire time as if he were still twelve years old. Having done his duty, he walked back outside and headed to his family property.
He was vaguely aware that the estate executor, Mr. Gilders, his father's attorney, had made sure the taxes were paid, and that the land was leased out to other ranchers. Nineteen years was a long time to leave a property abandoned, and Jack had not been back since the day he had walked into the recruiter's office. He was surprised when he drove in. The damage was not as bad as he had expected.
Someone had nailed plywood over the windows of the house, and there were padlocks on the front and side doors. The yard had been mown, and someone had kept it from becoming a wasteland of weeds. There was a pile of fallen limbs and brush in the field beside the house, accumulated for burning later. The fences looked the worse for wear, but they were still standing—mostly.
A Sheriff's Department vehicle pulled up and parked behind his Jeep. Josie Raintree got out, walking to the front porch.
"I figured you might be heading out here and would need a key," she said, handing it to him. "The horse in your barn is mine, his name is Ozzie. I figured boarding him here was an even trade for keeping the vagrants and the vermin out, and keeping the place from falling apart. I patched the roof on the barn a year ago, but it needs a new one."
"You've been taking care of the place all these years?" Jack said.
Josie shook her head. "I left Rawlings two years after you did, but I, at least, came back occasionally. Uncle Mason was still here, so I tried to keep an eye on him. County services put him into a facility about ten years back to dry him out. He didn't last long in there. Still, when I did manage to get back, I'd come out, pound in a few nails where needed, and crank up a mower.
"Sheriff Bowles was a good friend of your father's and he kept an eye on this place, and later mine, when I moved out of state. He was the one that had it boarded up and kept watch over it. If you recall, he was not one to allow vandalism or thieving in his town. He ran this town with an iron fist and God help anyone who dared cross his path and break the law. When the County put Uncle Mason in that home and I left, the Sheriff did the same for my place. I put Denny Mosser on a yearly retainer to mow here and at my Uncle's place in town and to keep a general eye on both places for needed repairs. When I took over for Sheriff Bowles a year ago, I also took on the job of watching out for this place and a few others. I opened it up and cleaned out a bunch of mice. Other than that, it didn't look like anyone had vandalized or stolen anything. Not that I would have been able to tell, since I'd never been inside. But there didn't seem to be any gaping holes where furniture should have been. I did toss anything and everything that mice could use for nesting material. I'm sorry, but it had to be done. There aren't any couches, chairs, mattresses, drapes or the like in there anymore. People in town knew I was taking an interest in both places. Being a Fed put a scare into anyone who might have thought about breaking in."
"You were a Fed?" Jack asked, surprised.
"Yeah, was," Josie said with a half laugh, but she shifted her gaze from him to fields. "Well, if you're home to stay, I'll find somewhere to board Ozzie. A friend runs a riding and boarding place about four miles up the road. I'll talk to her. Can you give me a few days to make the arrangements?"
"Leave him here," Jack said. "I don't know how long I'm staying, but you're welcome to use the barn. Thanks for looking out for the place."
"No problem," Josie said. "Welcome back, Jack."