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  “You’re left-handed?” she squeaked.

  He wasn’t, but his injured right arm wouldn’t work well in a spanking. “You really want to chat about which hand I’ll be using to smack your bottom, Elsie?”

  She giggled. “I suppose not. What would you like to chat about?”

  Wyatt couldn’t help but chuckle at her response, and at the interesting position he’d found himself in. He spent a moment observing his lovely target and noticing how her soft tummy pressed against the top of his hard thigh. Her trouser-clad bottom was upended enticingly. Without even touching it, he could see she had a very good bottom for spanking. It was plump and round. It would jiggle when he applied his palm to it in punishment. Ironically, even though she was about to receive a child’s punishment, Miss Elsie Fin looked nothing like a child in her current position. She looked every bit a woman, and some very wicked thoughts about spreading her legs and taking her hard were entering his mind unbidden.

  Wyatt rested his right hand on the small of her back and without further ado, reached his left hand high in the air and brought it down in an arc that landed a sound swat on the low swell of her buttocks. As predicted, her little butt absorbed the smack with a jiggle.

  She yelped but stayed in position. He applied another swat in the same spot, wondering if she would ask him to stop the punishment now that she knew it hurt. But she merely gasped and waited for the next smack. Wyatt planned to cease as soon as she asked him to, since his only goal in giving her the spanking was to prove that he was a man of his word, but she didn’t seem interested in ending it any time soon.

  “I’ve been a very bad girl, Wyatt,” she said breathlessly during his pause.

  He coughed with surprise and disbelief, both at her and at himself. The woman wanted more pain, and for whatever reason, he really wanted to give it to her. It made him feel strong and in control in a way he hadn’t felt since losing his job and his girl.

  He wondered why Elsie wanted to be punished. There was no doubt in his mind that he was smacking her hard enough to cause a sting. That could mean only one thing: She was enjoying being in pain. He didn’t analyze it further. He proceeded in earnest, bringing his hand down again and again on her cute little bottom, which she began to wriggle with discomfort after the tenth spank. He continued on even harder, alternating spanks on each cheek so that every bit of her bottom felt his chastisement. “Bad girls get punished, don’t they, Elsie?”

  “Yes,” she breathed. “Oh God, Wyatt…”

  He stopped spanking, thinking she must have had enough. “You ready to be good, then?”

  She squirmed a little over his lap. After a long moment of silence, she said, “The thing is, I think since I was very naughty, you… you should pull down my trousers.”

  Wyatt closed his eyes briefly before he opened them and rubbed her bottom in circles. He felt his cock growing hard, pressing against her small waist. The spanking suddenly felt nothing like discipline and everything like a prelude to romantic relations. He ached to bare her bottom and feel her hot cheeks under his palm, and then dip his fingers between her legs to see if she was wet for him.

  But that would really be crossing a line. If all worked according to plan, he would be instrumental in putting her behind bars. There was no way he could enjoy that kind of intimacy with her. It would make him a total bastard.

  “Something is telling me you’re enjoying this,” he said wryly. “It’s not much of a punishment if you like it.”

  She looked back at him. A pleading, desperate look had crept into her eyes. “You should spank me harder then. You know, to teach me a lesson?”

  He swallowed. It was very tempting. “Why do you want to be punished so severely? I think you’ve had enough punishment for pulling a gun on me.”

  “I’ve done other things… Really bad things,” she explained. “It feels cleansing somehow.”

  A thought entered Wyatt’s mind. Maybe he could get her to confess to him about the rebranding operation while she was in her current position. It seemed a real possibility, considering the direction of their conversation. She was in a mindset of being disciplined for all her wrongdoings, and it wasn’t a stretch to think she might confess her worst sin to him in her vulnerable state.

  Something like panic shot through him. He took hold of her arm suddenly, pulled her off his lap, and placed her upright in front of him. He didn’t want her to confess. That would mean he’d have to arrest her, and he hadn’t wrapped his head around that. Though she didn’t know it, she had given him a gift. She had made him feel strong and able again, and he couldn’t bear the thought of repaying her in that moment with betrayal.

  He cleared his throat. “Is it safe to give this back to you?” He reached behind him and retrieved her gun.

  She stared at him with a dazed expression. Her mouth alternately hung open and then closed, like she was thinking of words to say but then deciding not to say them. Her face blazed with red heat that he would swear was warming his skin. Wyatt had never seen a woman looking so embarrassed. Of course, no woman he knew had ever done something so worthy of embarrassment. If someone had told him that a woman would beg him to spank her, he would have laughed that person out of town. These things just didn’t happen.

  Wyatt didn’t want her to feel embarrassed, so he tried to think of something to say to make her feel better. Standing to his feet, he handed the gun back to her and said, “A good hiding can clear the conscience. No shame in it. Next time you can beat my backside.”

  She smiled slightly. “I don’t think you mean that.”

  She was right, there was no way he’d willingly let her smack him, but he thought making her think so might alleviate her embarrassment. He shrugged. “I might. Not much damage a little woman like you could do to a hard man like me.”

  A small whimper escaped her throat. “I don’t know what came over me, asking you to do that.”

  “Hey,” he said, his voice stern. “Don’t feel embarrassed, ya hear? What happened was a little odd, but I dunno… it felt right.”

  His firm tone seemed to shake her out of her humiliated state. She looked at him shyly and then looked down. “I can’t understand it, but it felt right to me too. Thank you, Wyatt.”

  He gave her shoulder a small squeeze, feeling like he should be the one thanking her, but not quite knowing how to do so.

  Not another word was spoken about the incident that day. Elsie led him to the bunkhouse and introduced him to her foreman, Randall, and her two ranch hands. Before the men had even finished saying hi to each other, she slipped out the door.

  Chapter Five

  Elsie lay in bed, unable to sleep. Her mind spun with the events of the day. Never before had she felt the kind of attraction she’d felt upon meeting Wyatt Parker. His whole being projected masculinity and strength without seeming overbearing. He was the opposite of overbearing. There was a vulnerability in his eyes that added to his appeal. She could tell that he was a man who’d never had an easy day in his life, who had worked and struggled and was there to tell the story because of it. Elsie could relate to that, and she admired it.

  When Wyatt had held her hand and threatened a punishment, she’d felt a fluttering of arousal in her belly. Stronger than her physical reaction, however, was the influx of emotions that came along with it. The spanking had hurt, but it had also brought her momentary healing. For the first time since starting her thieving operation, she didn’t feel the heavy bite of guilt gnawing at the pit of her stomach.

  The next day, Elsie sat at her breakfast table with a cup of coffee and an unopened letter in response to her mail-order groom advertisement. After the strange events of the previous day, she was more convinced than ever that she wanted a husband, preferably someone as handsome and strong as Wyatt. Unfortunately, the letters she’d received up to that point hadn’t impressed her.

  Her advertisement had specified three qualities she wanted in a man—loyal, of sound mind, and of good character—and not one of th
e letters had managed to comment on all three. It frustrated her. If a man couldn’t even respond properly to a short advertisement, how could she trust him not to let her down in other areas?

  Sighing, she hooked a thumb under the envelope’s flap and tore it open. The letter was from a Mr. Harvey Latham of Rochester, New York. A quick read-through told her that Mr. Latham was quite eloquent and obviously intelligent. Unlike the previous responses, he explained in detail how he possessed all three of the qualities she’d mentioned wanting in a man. One comment in particular piqued her interest.

  Growing up, I frequently watched my scamp of a brother get in trouble, and I didn’t once squeal. I believe in honest living, but not at the expense of someone I care about. My only point in telling you this is to explain to you that I’m a loyal man, which you mentioned as one of the requirements for being your groom.

  Elsie leaned back in her chair and read through the entire letter a second time. Mr. Latham seemed like just the kind of man she was looking for. If he grew to care about her, he wouldn’t turn her in to the law. Yes, this was precisely the letter she’d been waiting to receive, but now that she’d finally gotten it, she wasn’t all that excited. Another man—a certain down-on-his-luck cowboy with a twitchy palm—was on her mind.

  Still, it made sense to respond to Mr. Latham. She was looking for a long-term man, a husband who would stand by her side forever, not a dalliance with a ranch hand. She wondered if Mr. Latham was as handsome as Wyatt. And would he make her insides turn to mush like Wyatt had? There was only one way to find out.

  She needed to meet Mr. Latham in person. The problem was that she couldn’t ask him to leave his home and occupation in New York without a promise of marriage in return. Marriage and a place to stay were implied as her end of the bargain in exchange for him moving west.

  It was quite a quandary. She could either ignore the letter and never know if she was missing out on a perfect husband, or she could respond and know for sure who she was dealing with. Before she lost her nerve, she scratched out a response indicating she would like to meet him. Though she didn’t mention marriage, she knew that’s what he would expect, and she hoped by the time he arrived, she would be in a more focused mindset.

  Her ranch hand John was in the barn milking Bessie. She handed him the envelope that contained the letter she’d just finished writing. “Take this to the post, would you, John? I can finish with the milking.”

  John stood from the stool, wiped his palms down the legs of his trousers, and took the letter from her. “Sure thing, Elsie,” he said. “Anything else you need in town?”

  She furrowed her brow in thought. “Now that you mention it, I think I’m nearly out of flour, if you’d be so kind as to pick me up a sack.”

  John agreed and left to do his errands, while she took over milking Bessie. When she finished, she grasped the pail’s handle and headed back to her cabin.

  Wyatt was standing outside the barn, and Elsie’s heart fluttered in her chest upon seeing him. “Oh, hi,” she stammered.

  “Good mornin’, Miss Elsie. Let me get that for you.” He reached out and took the pail from her, then accompanied her up the front steps of the cabin, taking care not to stumble over the broken one.

  She could feel her face blazing, embarrassed as she recalled what had happened with him inside the barn, but Wyatt’s easygoing manner put her somewhat at ease. He set the pail down beside the inside keep. “I think my first order of business should be repairing that step leading to your door. What do you think?”

  “Yes, that’s a fine idea.” She was grateful that he’d chosen to focus on practical matters instead of attempting to engage in idle chatter, which could lead to talk about the spanking. From here on out, they needed to act professionally. She was owner of the ranch and he was her hand.

  They returned to the barn together, where her pa’s old workbench and table were kept. She assisted Wyatt by holding the oak wood in place as he sawed it with his left hand to trim it down to size. Over the scratching of grinding wood, her courage grew, and she said lightheartedly, “So, you really are left-handed, huh?”

  He didn’t crack a smile, nor did he acknowledge what she’d said. He frowned harder and concentrated. Beads of sweat dotted his forehead, and Elsie thought he might be thirsty. She abandoned the task of holding the wood and walked back to the cabin. Upon returning with a glass of lemonade, she was surprised to discover that Wyatt had stopped working in her absence.

  “Thanks, I had a hankerin’ for a cold drink,” he told her.

  While he gulped down the beverage, Elsie considered why he’d paused in his work. She knew it wasn’t because he was lazy. She didn’t know much about him, but she knew a hardworking man when she saw one, and Wyatt certainly was that. She could tell by the way his muscles rippled under his clothes, the callouses on his strong hands, and the fact that he was up at dawn to meet her.

  Setting aside the empty glass, he regarded her with his warm brown eyes. “Ready to continue?”

  She nodded and resumed standing by his side, where she once again held the wood stationary while he sawed. Her only guess for why he’d stopped working while she was away was that he was trying to make her feel useful. She thought about telling him he didn’t need to do that, but she decided to hold her tongue. If that were the case, it was very sweet of him. It dawned on her that he would make a good father. Just like he was doing with her, he would allow a young son feel that he was instrumental in a chore’s success.

  His reliance on her help continued during the next chore. He asked her to hold nails in place so he could hammer them in. If any other man had asked her to do that, she would have refused, but she trusted Wyatt not to miss the nails and hit her thumb. She knew he had a good aim. After all, every sound swat on her backside had landed perfectly, she thought wryly to herself. He proceeded with tapping the first nail, and sure enough, he didn’t miss.

  While they worked, they began to speak easily with each other, and Elsie discovered that he had been a ranch hand in the next town over. “Why’d you leave?” she asked.

  He removed the nail he was holding between his teeth and pressed the tip of it into the wood. As though they’d been working together for years and not hours, she reached out and steadied the nail between her thumb and forefinger while he tapped at it with the hammer.

  “I left because of difficulties with my boss. He wasn’t exactly a fair man.”

  The nail secure, Elsie removed her hand so that Wyatt could bury it into the wood with a hard blow. “That’s too bad. I’ll bet he’s sorry to have lost you. I can tell you’re a hard worker.”

  He smiled at her, which made her feel a flutter of happiness. “That’s a nice thing for you to say, Elsie. Truth is, it was time for me to move on from Rosemead. The girl I was courtin’ left me for another man—for the boss’s son as a matter of fact—and I wouldn’t’ve liked sticking around to watch them tie the knot.”

  Elsie felt surprised, both that a woman had left this gentle, handsome man and that he had revealed his heartbreak to her. “I hope you get to liking it better here in Virginia City than you did in Rosemead.”

  He chuckled. “Already do, Miss Elsie,” he said softly, without looking at her.

  It was a simple statement, but Elsie guessed the deeper meaning. He liked it better because he liked her, just like she liked him. Happy feelings warmed her insides as though she’d just swallowed a shot of whiskey.

  As the hours passed and they continued to work together side by side, Elsie noticed something about Wyatt that eliminated her earlier confusion. She realized he was not involving her in the chores because her participation was vital, or at least of great usefulness. Wyatt didn’t use his right arm hardly at all, and several times when even her assistance wasn’t enough to allow it full rest, she spotted the barely perceptible wince on his face that he tried to mask when he moved it.

  She didn’t call attention to his injury. She knew a man’s pride could be damaged easil
y, and she didn’t want to do that. But her pa had taught her how to heal injuries that commonly troubled ranch hands, and Elsie thought that perhaps if she could take a good look at his arm, she’d be able to help.

  When she witnessed for a fourth time him wincing upon moving his right arm, she couldn’t stand to watch him suffer further. “Hey, Wyatt, what do you say we call it a day? I’m feeling tired.”

  Wyatt set down his hammer. “That’s fine by me. I’ll head back to the bunkhouse then.” He removed this work gloves and stuffed them in his trousers pocket. Dipping his head and tipping his hat goodbye, he turned to leave.

  Elsie’s heart picked up speed. She didn’t want him to leave, but she wasn’t sure how to go about asking him to stay without the excuse of having him work. “Uh… um… Wyatt?” she stammered.

  He stopped and turned his attention to her. The kindness in his eyes gave her courage. “Um, would you like to join me for supper around seven o’clock? The hands usually go to supper in town on Fridays, but I’d like to talk to you more… you know, about the ranch and all.”

  Wyatt didn’t say yes right away. He rubbed the back of his neck, appearing conflicted. Elsie’s stomach tightened into knots, and her face flushed with embarrassment. Perhaps she was behaving in too forward of a manner. She’d just met him the previous day, after all, and it was customary for a man to ask for a woman’s company, not the other way around.

  Finally, he answered. “That’s right neighborly of you, Miss Elsie. I’d be honored to have supper with you. See you at seven.”

  Though she was grateful and relieved that he had agreed to dine with her, his hesitation stung. Perhaps he was still in love with his former girl in Rosemead and uninterested in spending time with any other woman. Elsie wondered if the girl in Rosemead was prettier and more to his liking than she was. She looked down on her dusty trousers and button-up shirt. He probably thought she looked more like a boy than a woman, she realized with some dismay.