Cowgirls & Angels

Cowgirls & Angels by Lizbeth Dusseau ISBN 13: 978-1-936173-46-4 ISBN 10: 1-936173-46-8 A Pink Flamingo Publications Ebook Publication All rights reserved Copyright ©1997 Lizbeth Dusseau With the exception of quotes used in reviews, no part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form, by any means, including mechanical, electronic, photocopying recording or otherwise without prior written permission of the publishers. For information contact: Pink Flamingo Publications P.O. Box 632 Richland, MI 49083 USA Email Comments: lizbeth@pinkflamingo.com The Confessions of a Sassy Wife Half of me despised him the day we were married, the other half was passionately in love. I must say, we’ve had a most unusual love affair. A month before our wedding day, Rys Montgomery showed up at the ranch, a ne’er do well cowboy with great hips and suntanned forearms, his bleached hair tossed by the June wind. It was the first hot day of summer and he needed a job. My dad needed a man to break horses, so he was hired. Daddy didn’t like him but he was desperate for a decent cowboy, with all the stallions pawing dangerously in the paddock. He did warn me first thing after he hired Rys, with his finger wagging in my face, “Stay away from him, Blair. He’s trouble.” I gave Daddy my patented smile, deciding that I’d do as I liked with Rys Montgomery, or any other man I met for that matter. Frankly, I didn’t think I’d like Rys in the first place. But seeing that finger in my face, I decided to take another look. If it would piss daddy off, I was game. Unfortunately, I didn’t like Rys much better getting to know him—the way he treated me. I’d been breaking horses on my daddy’s ranch for years, considered myself an excellent horsewoman, and to have this haughty scoundrel treating me like an incompetent damsel, pissed me off. If I hadn’t fallen off that horse and broken my wrist he’d have never been hired. Still, for all his haughtiness, he had a helluva sexy swagger. He was quite a sight to look at and his smile could make up for a lot of faults. We settled into a gentle war of wills, a tiff or two on the side, but mostly we ignored each other. He thought I was a peevish brat and I didn’t change my mind that he was an egotistical rogue. The day I suddenly found myself in bed with him was clearly a jolt to my sense of order. We’d been tussling with words over the “right” way to break the chestnut stallion, suddenly words flying so fast we could hardly spit them out, and then like a textbook romance we were fighting to get our clothes off and scramble upstairs to his bunk. It was a wordless f**k, lots of grunts and groans and the most terrific c*m I’d had in months … maybe a year. When it was finished, we lay on our backs side by side and he let loose with the most startling proposition I’d ever been offered. “Let’s get married,” he said. “What?” I thought he was joking. “Let’s get married.” “Whose universe are you living in?” I answered sarcastically. “The one where people that love each other get married,” he stated flatly. “You think s*x is love, you’re wrong,” I told him. “We have all we need, great passion. You can’t say our exchanges aren’t filled with uproar and sensation.” “You think great passion is enough to build a life on?” I turned over so I could look in his face, see if he was just pulling my leg. He wasn’t. “Some of the best marriages are built on less than that.” He stared at me, the gritty style, the winsome smile, the philandering twinkle in his soft brown eyes.” “Besides, I’m completely in love with your hair,” he said running his hand along the smooth black surface. And your face.” “You like my face?” How sweet that compliment. “I guess a poet would say you have alabaster skin.” I could tell he wasn’t used to sentiment, that’s why this was so especially endearing. It was obviously honest. I wondered if he was more of a person than I believed him to be. “You really are serious about getting married, aren’t you?” He smiled, not the snicker I was used to, but a genuine smile. *** Daddy hit the roof when we told him the news. I thought he was going to break something seeing us hand in hand, the marriage certificate on his desk. “Of all the idiotic things you’ve ever done, girl … I ought to horsewhip you. And you too.” He glared at my husband. There was that finger again, waving in Rys’s face this time. “I swear, you don’t take care of her, you run off, you get mean and start drinking like your kind do, I’ll horsewhip you too, before I kill you!” “Mr. Trabor, Blair’s my wife,” Rys replied quite calmly. “I will take care of her.” Seeing my father’s face was one of the prettiest pictures I’d ever seen. The old coot didn’t know what to say. He had no choice but to welcome my husband into his house, and nothing could make me happier! My father had been brutal, not ever physically, but his emotional power over me was something I needed to shake. Marrying Rys in defiance of his wishes was just the act I needed to declare my freedom from the tyrant. Some of my friends told me I should just leave the ranch. But I love it too much, the horses, the open land, and my place in this tough world. No, getting married was a good accommodation. It wasn’t until a few weeks later, after our initial honeymoon was over that I began to wonder if I shouldn’t have been more careful picking the man to mock my father. Living with Rys had certain challenges. If it wasn’t for great s*x and the fact that my father would then chortle meanly in my face, I would have kicked him out after the second week. First, there was his obstinate streak. As soon as we went back to work following a brief post-wedding hiatus, Rys started to get pretty nasty about my taming horses. Said it was too dangerous. I bristled instantly at that judgment and we argued about it. That war eventually led to the second challenge my new husband posed, one that hit me out of the blue. I never would have guessed that my life could take such an amazing turn. We’d been sparring for three days about breaking Brassy, a young colt that liked to buck and rear. His temperament was one of the worst either of us had ever seen, but he was a beautiful horse and would bring a handsome price once he let someone sit in the saddle and ride. Regardless of Brassy’s nasty nature, I was quite sure I could handle the animal. After all, he was still small, and to me, not as tough as many other horses I’d worked. “You’re not going to take this one, Blair,” Rys told me, giving me this stern, ‘I’m not budging an inch’ kind of look. “You’ve just had your arm heal, you’re going to break something else.” I stared at him as a saucy malcontent, something malicious from my tongue about to spew, but then I stopped. Rather than piss him off with utter defiance, I decided on another tactic that I thought would get what I wanted, just in a different way. Exiting the stable, not another word said, I told him I’d make him lunch and he seemed pleased I relented. Later, after Rys had eaten—while he was still jawing with another ranch hand—I slipped out the back door and returned to the stable to start working the colt. The young animal was wild, but at first manageable. With a little coaxing, I almost had him in bridle and bit. But when the sound of a truck in the yard made the animal rear back, I scrambled to get away from his descending forefeet. Slipping on a puddle of water, I scurried to avoid the enraged Brassy. I’m afraid I shrieked in fright. By the time I got to the paddock fence Rys was on the other side, while I was on my hands and knees looking at his muddy boots. “What the hell, Blair,” he roared. He leaned in over the fence and pulled me to my feet. Not stopping there, he drew me over the fence with a jerk so powerful that it shocked me. Dragging me to the stable in short order, I was flung over a sawhorse having my ass spanked like a naughty brat. I kicked and shouted and tried to wench away from him, but he managed to keep one arm firmly grasping me so I couldn’t break free. “Don’t you ever do anything like that again, do you hear me?” he roared. “Take your hands off me, you bastard!” I shouted back. “Oh, I’ll spank you as long as I think you need it.” The palm of his hand was coming down so fast I was beginning to feel a burn through my jeans. The more it hit, the more I struggled, the more Rys gripped me tightly. “You try defying me like that again, I will take off my belt and thrash you!” “Just you try that!” I cried, even though it seemed absurd making that charge. He had me handily under his control. His left hand had me pinned, and his mean right hand just kept slapping my buttocks. There was nothing I was going to do about it but submit. Once he thought I’d had enough—perhaps because I’d stopped fighting him so much, I was getting awfully tired—he finally stopped and let me up. My face must have been as flushed as my ass was underneath my pants. He held me still, but not as firmly, and looked down at me with a glare I hadn’t seen since before we were married. “You hear me, Blair Montgomery, you’ll work the horses I tell you to work, and you won’t challenge me again on this.” I was stunned. Another time, another place, I would have spit in his face, but I was too dazed to offer him one decent protest. “You understand me?” he asked, just to be sure. “Yeah, I guess I do, but …” “But what? You think a husband doesn’t have a right to punish his wife?” Of course I was thinking that, but oddly that wasn’t my question. “Is this something I can count on?” I wondered aloud. “You bet it is. We’ll do just fine, Blair, if you subdue this willful streak in you. You don’t, I’ll deal with it just like this. And trust me, your ass will be bare next time, and I’ll give you something that will really hurt.” “What’s going on here?” I heard my father’s voice. Brushing my hair away with my hand, I looked up flustered seeing him standing in the stable door. “Nothing’s going on, sir,” Rys answered him. Surprisingly, that seemed to be enough of an answer for the man and he turned and walked away. When it came to taming horses and women, Rys seemed to have a similar ability. He certainly had me in his control. I’d never considered myself a shrinking violet, but I was totally dumbfounded by the spanking and what it did to the image of my marriage and my husband. I suppose I figured that I could control Rys, just like I controlled every other man in my life. But that day changed all that. To my chagrin, I found myself being much more careful around him, a little more respectful. Though there were times that I could hardly hold my tongue, I made more of an effort to do so. I remember the night after that first spanking, when we were together in bed. It seemed as though we’d upped the ante. I was as wild as that stallion, and with Rys’s hand clutching me where he spanked my ass, I thought there were firecrackers going off in my body. I’m sure Rys noticed, but we didn’t say a word about the breathtaking screwing. Spanking wasn’t mentioned for at least three days, until I’d become a little more used to the idea and not so embarrassed. We were sitting at lunch, eating our meal casually when I finally mentioned that alarming moment. “I can’t believe you did that,” I said, quite out of context to anything else we’d been talking about. “Can’t believe what?” he asked. “That you did that, you know … in the stable, when I tried breaking Brassy.” A smile broke out on Rys’s face. “You can’t even say the word, can you?” Seeing his expression I regretted having broached the subject. “Yes, you got spanked, didn’t you?”