Birches, Cowgirls & Angels

Chapter One-1

Chapter One

In Hot Water

Cissy Riverton was headed for trouble. Sauntering from the ranch house toward the stables of Grey Gulch Ranch, she c****d her head sassily and rolled her hips in a nonchalant manner, which suggested she hadn’t a care in the world. At that very moment, she didn’t. Unabashedly innocent, looking more like a sixteen-year-old kid than a woman of twenty—which she was—Cissy could be the poster child of untainted virtuosity when a prim attitude suited her fancy. Her short red mop of curls framed a petite face, great wide blue eyes, and a broad, happy mouth. The body below was shapely, her breasts small, her waist slim, and her ass quite generous—though not out of proportion to the rest of her. She could look gracefully demure or vampish depending on her mood; but, regardless of any pose she struck—for any reason, legitimate or devious—her body communicated exactly what she wanted. And since Cissy Riverton was a conniving schemer and a shameless flirt at heart, she used her body well.

At the moment, she was looking for Garth, who was visiting Jake—her cousin once removed. (The removed part was a bit of a joke between them—the rock solid Jake Colton might have been removed in theory, but he was hardly removed in practice, having played a very substantial role in Cissy’s life for the past five years.)

“Well, well, well,” she heard Jake’s familiar drawl, just as she ambled through the stable door. Though her eyes might naturally move toward Garth, the county’s dreamy young sheriff whom she’d been dating for several months, they settled on her cousin’s scowl instead. “Just who I was looking for,” he droned on. Something simmered beyond his cool exterior, and as the lanky cowboy pulled himself upright with his green eyes focused keenly on his redheaded cousin, he drilled her with the question, “Want to tell me where you’ve been?”

“Where I’ve been?” Though she was hardly ready for an interrogation, her brain worked fast—after all, she’d had lots of practice. Her eyebrows knit with puzzlement as a beautifully contrived blank expression filled her guileless features.

“The question is pretty direct, Cis, answer it.”

“Oh, hon, you are steamed,” she read him rightly, seeing his mood shift quickly from sarcastic to severe.

This was worse than Cissy had expected and her brain was in high gear.

“I’ve been around,” she quipped, in an attempt to remain clueless about the charges he might have against her. “When, exactly, are you talking about?”

“How about the middle of the night?”

Oops! She could hardly hide her surprise. He knows. Damn how could he? There weren’t enough gears in her brain to handle this overload.

“I’m sorry, Cis,” Garth stepped forward, his face so sorry-looking and sweet. “It’s a small town, you ought to know that. People are basically nosey.”

“It was just one night.”

“You’re on probation,” Garth went on, sounding rather grim for the mild-mannered young man he was. She’d always liked his gentleness, the way she could sweet-talk her way around him, run her hands over his sandy buzz cut, kiss his cheek, purr in his ear—he was so easy. But maybe not now. He struck a formidable looking pose, which was pretty enticing all by itself. Made him even more appealing—in a weird sort of way that only Cissy would understand. Garth Branch was as solid as her fuming cousin behind him, just shorter and stockier, his muscles bulging from his official sheriff’s short-sleeve shirt. Now, however, she wasn’t sure if there was enough sweet-talk in her to soften his forbidding stance. Of course, it didn’t help that Jake stood behind him like the original man of steel. “Driving without a license, violating your probation with midnight rides. You weren’t very discreet about it,” he shook his head, appearing both amazed and saddened by her foolishness. “I’m going to have to take you in.”

“What?”

“’Fraid so.”

“But….”

“But first, your cousin has a few things to say.”

Cissy turned her attention back to Jake, immediately thinking that she should turn tail and run.

Reading her mind like a book, Jake held her fast with his razor sharp eyes. “Don’t even think about taking off, Cis. I’m gonna blister that ass of yours before you get out of here, and running would only make it worse.”

“Now wait,” she turned to Garth, imploringly, unsure which man should hear her plea.

The Sheriff shook his head. “Take it, Cissy. It’ll go a whole lot easier for you with the judge.”

“The judge! You’re not going to tell the judge!”

“If he thought you had your cousin watching you a little more attentively, he might not revoke your probation. That is, unless you want to spend the next six months in jail?”

“You, you….” she seethed. Though her eyes were leveled on Garth, they quickly moved on, focusing directly on Jake. “You arranged this, didn’t you!” She bolted toward her cousin, only to have him capture her by the wrist. The way he towered over Cissy’s small frame and held her off, there was no way she was going to strike, kick, hit, punch, or do any of the other things that immediately came to mind. Actually, her anger short-circuited any reasonable response—as it usually did. If she’d been sane at all, she would have held off, taken her licking and been done with it, without the fight. As it turned out, she got more than a simple paddling—and this one would hurt for a lot longer than a half-hour afterwards.

“You’re getting punished by me, brat!” he grimaced. “Your promises are worthless. You give me the old song and dance about how you’ve reformed, how six nights in jail taught you ‘a lesson you’ll never forget’.” His eyes narrowed into tiny points of light, hardly a color to define them at all. “I’ve been played the fool for the last time.” With Jake pointing his index finger in her face, Cissy shrank back as best she could, though she had little space to maneuver. “Consider your freedom revoked. You may, just may, avert jail with this punishment, but you’ll think you’re in jail by the time your penance with me is done.”

“C’mon, Jake, please.”

“Get me the paddle, will you Garth?”

The lawman moved to the back of the stables where a strap and wooden paddle hung on pegs. They’d been hanging there for thirty years having blistered many a young behind—and a few older ones. As far as Jake Colton was concerned, they’d keep their place as long as he had anything to say about Cissy Riverton’s behavior. There’d never been a woman in his memory who needed it more than his bratty cousin.

Finally, letting go of her wrist, Jake gave her a gentle shove toward the old workbench. “Drop your pants.”

“Jake! But…” her face twisted dolefully—as though he were truly wounding the young woman.

“Now!”

“But Jake, Garth’s here.”

“He can see your ass, too. That way he can assure the judge that the punishment was done properly.”

Her glassy eyes pooled with tears that were about to drizzle down her cheek. Seeing the despondency in her face, the young sheriff was moved, and about to turn away.

“You can stay right here, Garth. Cissy plays a good game. The sooner you understand that, the better off you’ll be.”

Pressing her forward toward the bench, the fretting Cissy was still searching for some means out of this catastrophe. Here she’d been trying to woo the Sheriff for two months, and now her bastard cousin was going to humiliate her right in front of him.

She toyed with the buttons on her blue jeans, thinking hard. Unfortunately, there wasn’t much room for manipulation here. Any plea she’d try would land with a hallow thud, and she’d only make Jake more pissed. She struggled for an answer, but none came in time to save her. Taking a deep breath and closing her eyes—as though she could close out the entire ordeal—she pushed the denim off her hips and leaned over the unyielding wood. She was going to take this paddling ass-naked whether she liked it or not.

Jack Colton gripped the leather-covered handle of the punishment paddle with a firm resolve, determined that his cousin get the best of it. Three months before, the brassy tart sideswiped him with a lot of honey-coated nonsense. She’s sworn, pleaded and cajoled him with her flirtatious eyes and heart-rending pleas for mercy, getting him to lift the rules he imposed on her after the arrest. That had been a messy scene—and for some ridiculous reason, he believed she might just have seen the error of her ways and was ready to join the human race as a responsible adult. Obviously, he’d been hoodwinked by someone more masterful than he. It would be a cold day in hell before he believed a word that came out of her mouth.

“Let’s see if you can get through this without letting the entire world know,” Jake suggested as he swatted his own hand with the two-foot paddle several times, letting Cissy hear the threatening tone it made when it struck bare skin. He hadn’t used the paddle on her in well over a year; and this session would be a worthy display of just how far he’d go to correct her bad behavior.

Beyond the sound of the paddle striking flesh, the stable was still. At the other end of the building, one of the mares whinnied, and Clem, the old plug-horse pawed at the straw in his stall. A few sparrows flit in and out among the rafters and a nervous Sheriff Branch coughed quietly. Otherwise, the setting was eerily silent, and almost painfully calm until the first strike landed on Cissy’s behind. Her ass was a lovely, creamy, flawless sort of pale, which most men found delightful—clothed or not. Ready to be punished, her legs were tightly clamped together, which pushed out her flesh and raised it as though it were actually greeting the occasion eagerly.

There were many men who would relish the task of reddening that pale skin until it shone with red. If she’d been his lover, Jake might have as well. But there was no lust in his loins for this one. She was pure hell, a lot of work, and, despite her indisputable charms, a pain in the neck.

Settling back to the task of her punishment, Jake reared back and brought the paddle forward brusquely with a wide sweep of his arm.

Thwack!

The clear, sharp crack of hard wood meeting skin shook the entire stable as the restless energy of its force rippled through the boards and bricks. The strike landed squarely, covering both of Cissy’s cheeks, hitting hard and firm on the rounded centers of the brat’s behind.

Cissy’s grunted breath followed, while her jiggling ass struggled to absorb the shock, and her skin began to turn pink.

Jake’s second smack was equally as powerful; the first of two dozen, which would pepper her cheeks until the fire on her ass became so burning hot that she was begging for some compassion.

The methodical gait of Jake’s style was something Cissy Riverton knew well; though, the foreknowledge of what she faced in no way eased her distress. “Oh, for crissakes please!” she finally howled after the sixth sharp crack of wood. She was dancing enough that he had to pause for her to calm.

“Settle down, or I’ll just keep going,” he warned.

“Oh, but please…….”

Her plea fell short as another smack drove the words right out of her mouth.

Doing her best to bear up, Cissy gritted her teeth, held her breath, and clung to the sides of the dusty workbench so tightly that it appeared her hands would fuse to the boards.

While the poor girl battled with the punishment, Garth Branch looked on in sheer amazement. He’d been dating Cissy for three months, thought he knew her well, was even aware that the randy young woman was fair game for a good working over with Jake’s leather belt when she crossed him; but he never imagined that she would submit to this kind of treatment—or that Jake Colton could have so much influence on her. When she’d amused him with this little anecdote about her life, he thought of taking her luscious package of femininity over his lap and giving her a spanking with the palm of his hand, but he never imagined anything as severe as this. It was a sight he’d never seen before; and though he had his doubts about its true effectiveness, the effect on him was remarkable. A sexy, shocking, exuberant fire began in his belly and extended all the way to his rising p***s. With his hard-on growing firmer with each strike that landed, he hoped the conclusion would be soon, because he was afraid he’d embarrass himself if his physical response became visible.

The punishment proceeded on cue from beginning to end. Jake didn’t waste time, he expected a reasonably compliant woman; and as long as he didn’t have to fight a defiant mutiny, he ended the session delivering exactly the number of strikes he decided on at the outset.

Cissy had her twenty-five, each a hellaciously miserable experience of pain for the distraught woman. But she did hold on. She had before. Cissy Riverton wasn’t about to let her cousin crush her spirit. And though she didn’t come up smiling afterwards, she’d managed to dispense with her tears so he wouldn’t see the evidence of the real hurt she felt.

Having finished, Jake laid the paddle down on the bench beside her face, and then stood back, shoulder to shoulder with the Sheriff. Silently waiting, the two watched the chastised brat slowly work her bottom back inside her blue jeans while trying not to wince so they could see. When she finally accomplished the task, she stood up straight, forced her mouth into a stubborn frown, and waited. She was quite a sight, red locks slightly frazzled, the stain of one errant tear painting a line down her pink cheek, and a dramatically s****l aura billowing about her aroused body.

Though the Sheriff readily acknowledged the stimulating picture she presented, Jake did not.

“You’re going with Garth,” he said succinctly. “You’re going to face the judge. And you can hope that after the Sheriff tells him how I’ve handled you, he’ll have some compassion. If not, I’ll bring you a few things from your room to make your stay in jail more bearable.”

“Gee, thanks for being so heartless,” Cissy sniveled.

“Oh, don’t get mad at me. I’m not the cause of your suffering. You brought this one on yourself. But hear me loud and clear, if you manage to weasel out of jail time again, once you’re home, you’re on a short tether—a very short tether. The changes around here are going to be swift.”

“Changes like what?”

“You’ll be lucky if I ever let you out of the house.”

Cissy bristled instantly. “Who says I’ll even come back here?”

“I do,” Garth gave her a decently stern look. “You can trust me on this, Cissy; the judge won’t let you go anywhere else, if he lets you off at all.”

Though Garth’s sudden, steely determination made her shiver, the redhead hardly acknowledged the depth of her arousal. She sighed. There was obviously no winning this one, and the resulting sadness in her eyes was so profound that even Jake was almost moved.

Of course, he’d been through this kind of scene before and he refused to be moved. Sincere regret or damn good theatrics—he refused to try telling the difference anymore.

“Go ahead, Garth, do what you have to do.”

The Sheriff nodded, and taking Cissy by the hand, he led her from the stables to the county truck.

“You know I should cuff you,” he said.

“Oh, no.” She whined well; and Garth was too soft to see beyond it. Giving her a gentle nudge, he pushed her into the front seat.

Jake watched from the stable door, leaning thoughtfully against the brick red post, wondering for the hundredth time in as many days if his cousin would ever be more than the reckless tramp her mother had been.

At twenty-eight, according to his sense of time, he was much too young to be raising a half-grown woman—just as at twenty, Cissy Riverton was much too old to be treated as a child. Would it ever end?