The War of the Remingtons

Chapter One-2

This brat was as stubborn as his own children were and he knew that only patience and steady determination would work. Finally turning her head, Samuel had his first decent glimpse of Charlotte Desmond. A pair of mean, black eyes stared at him from under the curls of her untamed hair. She might be pretty if she’d change the contentious expression, but for the moment, she looked disturbingly distraught as though fueled by anger she could barely contain.

“I don’t mince words with my own children, nor will I with you. You are coming to down dinner, Miss Desmond, and you will wear that dress if I have to put it on you myself.”

“Don’t you dare!” she blared, looking as though she was about to attack.

“Go get the dress!”

“No!”

“Now!”

“NO!”

“Perhaps you’d like a trip to the woodshed. Certainly you understand what that means?”

“You bastard!” the young woman barked. A second later, she spit in his face and sat back on the window seat with a devious smirk on her face.

Shocked, but hardly undone, Samuel pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and calmly wiped his face. Then, making up the short distance between them, he hauled her by the arm, and thrust her head and shoulders under his one arm so he could have at her bare behind. Before the girl realized what was happening, he began spanking his hand against her leather trousers. Yet, quickly certain that his message was not getting beyond the leather, he began to tug at the pants.

“You friggin’ sonafabitch!” she roared, kicking and wailing as though her ass had just been scaled with boiling water. She had no idea how hot it would get before the man was through.

With the pants much too big for her, they came down easier than Samuel expected, leaving him the target he required, a naked expanse of female bottom to spank. His palm spread wide and flat across her plump flesh, the extent of his large hand covering almost an entire cheek with one swat. Pelting her with a steadfast rain of swats, the two globes were red within a few seconds time. Lottie was not about to give up her fight. Struggling violently against him, she thrashed her legs about wildly, not caring where they landed.

“You will not kick me, Miss Desmond,” he blared, “unless you want my belt instead of my hand.”

She didn’t hear a word he said, or simply chose to ignore the threat, because just moments later, the toe of her boot caught his shin. Disregarding the pain that shot up his leg, Samuel went for the buckle of his belt, having the wide leather withdrawn from his pant loops and quickly doubled in his fist. Determined that she wouldn’t be kicking him again, he dragged her twisting body to a sturdy table in the corner of the room where he pushed her over the edge, and held her squarely in the center of her back. Resuming the punishment, Samuel laid in on the brat’s pink behind with a fire of strikes to rival any he’d used on his own children. She cried and flailed frantically, and yet the strapping went on until her wails finally turned into apologetic pleas.

“Stop! Stop, please!” The first was still full of spit and fire. But as Samuel continued without stopping, he began to hear the quality of her protest change. “Please, oh, please no more. I’ll put on the dress,” she finally agreed, “please.” She was desperate.

Samuel continued for some seconds more, punctuating his message with some stiff blows to the center of her behind. With one smack laid on atop the last, each was sure to bite harshly, and would likely produce a rash that could last several days. It was just as well. He wanted her to remember this day for a long time. Seeing the bright color of her entire ass end, from the top of her cheeks to her upper thighs, he knew she’d be smarting for some time.

“Please, no more,” she cried pitifully, and with that last poignant appeal, he finally stopped.

Letting the distressed young woman rise, he moved to scoop the dress from the floor and toss it her way. She was blushing in her state of half undress, a clear clue that this rebellious young woman wasn’t half so uncivilized as she made herself out to be. There was still some of the gentle good breeding residing behind her churlish manner. Seeing that her private parts were adequately covered by the dress, he began his lecture.

“While you live in this house, Miss Desmond, you will wear clothes appropriate for a woman of your age. Amelia and I will take you into Cheyenne to find some dresses of your own next week, but until then, you’ll have to do with a few of my housekeeper’s hand-me-downs. You’ll dine with us at our dinner table, morning, noon and for the evening meal. And you’ll conduct yourself in a ladylike manner. You’ll guard your tongue, and though I don’t expect perfection, you’ll do your best to recall the life you lived before you were kidnapped and the requirements of a modest young lady. Have I made myself clear?”

“Yes.”

“And,” he added, eyes still flashing, “you’ll address me as ‘sir’”.

“Yes, sir,” she answered immediately.

Samuel nodded.

Lottie Desmond was just a slip of a girl. Nineteen by now, she looked much younger having just been punished. It wiped all the vinegar from her system and returned her to the innocent maid she was—or at least should have been. No one knew what had happened to her in captivity. Her face was deeply tanned, but fresh and vigorous looking, her widely spaced dark eyes shone with a much more natural and appealing light now that she was free of her angry rage. She had a broad mouth and surely a fine smile, though it wasn’t likely he’d see her smiling any time soon. And though her expression spoke of her young age, her body had clearly ripened into womanhood with a generous bosom and shapely hips.

“Dinner is already late. Please be quick about dressing and be downstairs in five minutes.”

She nodded, her lip appearing to tremble. Samuel noticed tears in her eyes, and moved by them, he smiled as he had when he first entered the room. She needed someone to love her, and he was only more inspired to find her kin, a subject they would discuss at dinner.

***

“Ah, you rapturous woman!” Christian scooped Amelia in his arms practically lifting her from the floor with his engaging hug.

“Christian, no! Your father is waiting for his meal, and you’re late.”

He nuzzled her neck, making for a painfully delightful rush that shot right down to her toes, though most of it settled between her thighs. He had his hand on her ass, liberally fondling it as though it had a right to be there.

“Christian, stop! Your father will be furious.”

“But not you,” he snickered, backing off. His sunny blonde hair shone in the light of the kitchen fire. He’d pulled his shirt over his head before he assaulted her, and his bare chest gleamed with a layer of sweat against the definition of his muscles. The impulse to run her hands along them made her clench her fists, refusing to give in to the s****l heat he so easily raised in her. Such handsomeness and charm, the laugh, the smile, the swagger and his firm inviting body. No, not again, she swore to herself, even as her eyes couldn’t stop looking at the object of her lust.

“Christian, find a clean shirt now,” she scolded him, as she rushed from the kitchen with a platter of meat and potatoes.

“Careful, Ami, swishing your ass for me, I’ll want to grab it!” he called after her.

“Christian, shush,” she shot back, seeing his father enter the dining room.

“My son’s here?” Samuel asked.

“He is,” she answered exasperated. “And Lottie will be joining us?”

“Momentarily.” As serene as ever, Samuel didn’t give one hint of the scuffle he’d just had with the brat—and he wouldn’t. He was of impeccable breeding, one that clearly kept what was meant to be private behind closed doors. That did not dismiss that fact that anyone inside the lodge or its perimeter knew exactly what had transpired. The girl’s cries, as well as the sound of the belt hitting her bottom, would have been noticed, the meaning unmistakable. Still, no one would mention the incident. It was a testament to Samuel’s confidence that he expected the treatment to do exactly as he planned it would, and Lottie’s behavior would be forever altered by the moment. Of course, he was never so lucky with his own children, but he could always hope that one go round would be enough for this child.

At dinner, Samuel sat at the head of the table, Amelia and Lottie on one side, and a jovial Christian on the other. Opening the meal with a blessing, Samuel seemed to be the only one with his head bowed. Amelia tried not to blush seeing Christian’s sly smile and Lottie sat nervously, hands in her lap waiting for a clue to begin her meal. With vegetables, meat and potatoes served, the Remington men and their housekeeper began to eat, and an eager and obviously hungry Lottie dived into her food with hands and fork alike, her untamed relish shocking her dinner companions. Amelia blushed again, Christian held back an amused chuckle, and the well-composed Samuel simply went on with dinner ignoring the frightful display.

“Amelia, I’d like to see you in the lodge room before you get started cleaning up,” he said just before he left the table and retired for his cigar and brandy.

Already clearing dishes, Amelia dropped what she was doing and joined him in the living room.

“So, where’s our guest?” Samuel asked when it was clear they were alone.

“She took the back stairs to her room,” Amelia said.

“And Christian?”

“He was going to the stables to attended to Sunny. I believe he’ll be sleeping there. But he said to tell you he’d be in later to say goodnight.”

“Mind yourself with him, Amelia. I often wonder if my son will forever curse me.” He looked wistfully into the fire.

“You shouldn’t be so hard on him.”

“Humph. You of all people should agree with me.”

“I agree he is more of a charmer than he should be, and for his own good, women need to be warned. But there is a great deal of good in him. He’s been so thoughtful of Lottie, like an older brother.”

Samuel had a hard time accepting Amelia’s generosity toward Christian. It was far too infinite in his finite world.

“I’d simply like to think he’d settle himself down. But it’s obvious that it will be a long time before that happens. Right now, however, we need to put our efforts into solving Miss Desmond’s difficulties. While I inquire about her family, it will be your job to give her a few lessons in proper deportment. That scene at dinner tonight will not be repeated.”

“Samuel, she’s not been in civilized company in over a year. You can’t expect her to act with any kind of dignity.”

“But I can expect you to school her. You are still a school teacher by profession.”

“But she’s such an unwilling pupil,” Amelia moaned unhappily. She was hardly pleased being reminded of her occupation, one that she had to put aside in the wake of her unfortunate past.

“Ah, I think that reluctance has passed. My little discussion with her made a distinct impression. One I’m sure she’ll not forget.”

“And if I refuse you about this?” Amelia asked.

Samuel looked at her, eyes narrowing. “Why would you refuse me?”

“I don’t feel up to the task.”

“Humph. Perhaps you need the remedy she got this afternoon.”

“Samuel!”

“At twelve, seventeen or twenty-nine, my dear, a strap on the bottom can work miracles.” He spoke so pointedly she was aghast. There were a hundred reasons for declining this impossible duty, but this last statement silenced her.

“If it would help, you have my permission to paddle her with a wooden spoon if necessary.”

“I can’t see myself doing that.”

“Then, you’ll have to find some other method of maintaining discipline. But you will take her under your wing and see to it that she remembers herself. Guidance, she needs guidance, and we will not shirk our responsibility to her dead father. I can’t imagine returning her to her family while she’s still behaving like a destitute ruffian.”

Samuel was a master at silencing her objections in most matters, and it was useless of her to quarrel with him when she would eventually give in.