Harmony (Journey's End Book 3) Page 14

  Melody and Harmony wailed, whined and whimpered. If this was one tune they were destined to share, it would be a good one.

  Both men spanked on until their wives lay limp over their knees. As if from a silent signal, they lifted them to their laps and surrounded them with love and care.

  The sun was peeking over the horizon when Melody and Harmony were placed in their beds and told to rest.

  Matt was too wound up to sleep. The fear, the desperate ride hoping Harmony was safe, the spanking. He vibrated with a potent mix of emotion. He returned to the front room to find Mitch already there.

  “Coffee?” the other man asked.

  Mitch nodded, and they sat quiet and sipped the strong brew.

  “I hope that’s the end of it,” Matt said.

  Mitch nodded, but his face held troubled doubt. “We’ll see.” He took the last sip. “Let’s go get breakfast at my sister’s cabin. I’m hungry.”

  Lars sat at the table with a small girl on the bench beside him and a baby on his lap. “You men work up an appetite?” he asked.

  “Now, Lars, that’s private,” Ellie scolded.

  “Private?” Lars scoffed. “Kept me up most of the night.” He gave his wife a slow wink, and she blushed a becoming pink.

  “Sit down you two,” Ellie invited. “We have plenty.”

  “Thank you, Ellie,” Mitch filled his plate with pancakes, eggs and bacon. “Our wives are a might tuckered out. They’re sleeping.”

  Lars snorted, and Ellie shot him another disapproving glance.

  “They put themselves in danger, Ellie girl,” Lars said. “A man can’t let that pass.”

  Matt agreed. A man could not let that pass. He could not.

  Chapter 15

  A subdued Harmony perched on her husband’s lap. She squirmed this way and that to avoid her spanked bottom as they returned to Ford that night.

  “Stop that,” Matt growled. She had to sit on her punishment. That was part of it, and all that wriggling was causing his own interest to rise.

  His stomach still churned at the memory of finding their bed cold and empty. He hoped that spanking would prevent future acts of rebellion. What other choice did he have? He wouldn’t lock her in or tie her up. She wasn’t his prisoner. She was his wife. Pulling her close to his chest, he dropped a kiss on the top of her head.

  “I love you, Harmony,” he whispered into her ear. “I don’t like to spank you, darlin’, but I have to keep you safe. Do you understand?”

  “I do,” she nodded along with her words. “But, Matt, your spankings really hurt.” She turned reproachful blue eyes up to him.

  “I know. If it didn’t hurt, it wouldn’t be much of a punishment, would it? It wouldn’t keep you from putting yourself in danger.” He paused and mulled the matter over. She had to understand the depth of his determination. His promise bore repeating. “If you put yourself in danger again, with willful disregard for your safety and my instructions, I will spank you into next Sunday.”

  “No, Matt, your hand is bad enough,” Harmony whined.

  “You just keep that in mind, little missy. If you don’t want me to end the spanking with a spoon, belt, or switch, don’t drive me to it. You have complete control of the situation. Complete. Control.” He shot the words like bullets from a gun.

  The remainder of the trip was completed in silence. He pulled Chester to a stop in front of their house and helped his wife to the ground.

  “Go on and get ready for bed, darlin’,” he instructed. “It’s been a tough two days.”

  Harmony gave a huff and raised a little dust with a stamp of her foot. “I’m not ready for bed. Quit telling me what to do.”

  “Harmony.” His voice carried hurt. “I’m trying to be kind, a good husband. We’re both worn out. You’re being contrary just for the sake of it.” He turned her around to face him. “Aren’t you tired? Wouldn’t you like to go to bed with your husband?” He gave her a long, slow wink.

  “I’m sorry. Yes, I am tired, and yes, I would like to go to bed with my husband.” She grabbed hold of his shirt in her two small fists and tugged. “I’m just so confused. I want to be with Melody, and I want to be with you.”

  “Be with me tonight, darlin’,” he whispered. “I’ve got plans.” He turned her toward the house and planted a gentle swat on her bottom. “In you go.”

  Matt watched her mount the stairs and approach the door. Just before entering she turned and rewarded him with a smile and a small wave of her hand. His heart shot straight up into his throat and his manhood followed that northerly direction. Whistling, he mounted Chester and headed for the Livery.

  When he returned, Harmony wore a long, white nightgown that covered her from neck to toe. The sleeves ran from shoulder to wrist and were secured with tiny white buttons. Her hair swung in a long braid down her back.

  Matt choked. “Where did you get that?”

  “At the Mercantile. Don’t you like it?” Harmony looked down the length of cotton to where her toes peeked from beneath the hem.

  “I guess it’s all right, but I have other thoughts for tonight. Thoughts that have you, naked, in our bed.” He moved behind her and began to unravel the long braid. “Thoughts that let me run my fingers through your hair.”

  With a gentle tug, the bow at the neck of the gown dropped open. He undid the buttons at her wrists and pulled the gown over her head. He sighed his satisfaction.

  “There,” he said. The word carried intention and delight.

  He pulled her tight to his chest and enveloped her mouth with his own. The long, deep, wet kiss left them panting. Harmony yanked his shirt from inside his pants and ran her hands over his bare chest. Matt groaned. He needed her in bed now.

  “Harmony, darlin’,” he began, “get in bed before you take a chill.” He turned her in the direction of their bedroom. “Go on,” he said. “I’ll lock the door and be right in.”

  His gaze followed the flow of honey blonde waves down her back and continued to that pert little bottom he loved so much.

  “Damn,” he swore with quiet dismay. Harmony’s bottom was a mix of red and mottled purple. She would have bruises, and that was a fact. Well, he’d meant to punish her, but the sight of her ravaged buttocks was a sucker punch to his gut. He’d need to give this new life, the one with beautiful Harmony in his bed and heart, a good think.

  When Matt entered the bedroom, his wife was balanced on her side. His heart gave a painful squeeze.

  “Your bottom sore?” he asked. What a stupid question, he chided himself. Of course, her bottom hurt.

  “Yes,” Harmony rubbed the red flesh.

  “I’d surely like to love you, darlin’.” Matt dragged his shirt over his head and released his belt buckle. He finished undressing like a horse nearing his favorite watering hole. He lifted his wife and settled her on stomach. Running his hands up and down her back, he massaged from the curve of her waist, over her shoulder blades and back again. His hand drifted between her legs, and Harmony parted them in invitation. Clever fingers swiped up and down her feminine lips. He pressed his finger into her channel and curled his fingers against the softness of her passage.

  She lifted her pelvis, and Matt seized the invitation. He pulled her punished bottom into the air and found her entrance with his swollen rod. Sliding in, sliding out, he took hold of her waist and pulled her down as he surged up. They struggled in their need for connection until Harmony’s inner convulsions created a last call he was happy to answer.

  Matt moved to her side careful to avoid her red behind. He threw his arm over her body and the slow, deep breaths signaled that his wife slept.

  Matt lay quiet in the dark night and thought. He’d hoped for a wife, but he’d never planned for one. The reality of her in his arms, the love so intense it snatched the breath from his body, the need to protect, and the desire to place her happiness before his own, surprised him with their primal urgency. He must keep her safe. He must make her happy. One could not ecli
pse the other.

  He had a plan. A good one, he thought. He would not tell Harmony until he was sure the idea would work. It would be cruel to raise her hopes only to dash them.

  When dawn knocked on their window, Matt dressed and left the house. His deputy deserved some time off. He’d been on duty, alone, since late Saturday night. Matt stopped briefly at each business, tipped his hat to the ladies, and assured himself that no threat hung over the town of Ford before he began the implementation of his plan.

  “Harmony,” Matt called as he entered the house. “I thought to take you to the café for dinner.”

  “What’s the matter, darlin’?” he asked. “Does your bottom still hurt?”

  “Yes, but that’s not it,” she said. “I’m just sad. It’s not your fault.”

  “Let’s go get dinner. Maybe a little food will help you feel better,” he proposed.

  “All right.” Harmony rose from her chair and crossed the room with the enthusiasm of a prisoner marching toward the gallows.

  The days that followed were much the same. Matt worked on his secret plan, and Harmony’s depression deepened, dark and disturbing.

  Thursday blossomed into a day of sunshine and promise, and Matt was ready to share his secret. The one he hoped would bring that blinding smile back to his bride’s face.

  He took the stairs to their door two at a time and burst through the door. “Harmony,” he called. The air vibrated with vacancy, and Matt’s heart froze. Not again. Please, not again, he silently implored. He checked the outhouse. Empty. She’d not left a note this time, but he knew where she’d gone.

  “Damn,” he muttered. He’d have to spank her. Spank her into next Sunday. He didn’t want to, but what choice did he have? She’d put herself in danger again, and, as Lars had pointed out, a man can’t let that pass. But, surely, the reason for the defiance had some bearing on the case. Harmony missed her sister like an amputated limb. Could he spank his wife for her feelings? Could he not spank her when she put herself in danger?

  He walked with quick purpose to the Livery and saddled Chester. Emotions, conflicting and contradictory, roiled like a storm picking up speed. He entered the yard of Journey’s End and pulled Chester to a stop.

  From their sweat drenched clothes and dusty faces, Matt figured the men had just returned from the range. The women and smaller children gathered on the porch around their mother’s skirts. Chase, Micah’s beautiful day-dog, circled anxiously. The dog headed for the road leading away from the yard, returned, barked, begged for attention. Micah stood in the center of the circle, tears of frustration leaving trails down his face.

  “What’s happened?” Matt asked.

  “That’s what we’re trying to find out,” Mitch replied. “Did you come to fetch you wife?”

  “I did,” Matt said. “She’s here, isn’t she?” Fear coiled in his stomach like an angry snake.

  Sven knelt on one knee and took his small son’s shoulders in his hands. “Tell me, Micah. What’s the matter?”

  “Well, Pa, every day before you ride out, you tell me to look after the women and children. Nothings more important than our women and children, you tell me.” Micah’s face was scrunched in earnest explanation.

  “Yes, Micah, I know,” Sven replied.

  “After dinner, I saw Aunt Melody heading up the road. Now, I knew she wasn’t supposed to wander off on her own. The last time she did that, she and Harmony were spanked. We all heard it, so I knew she shouldn’t leave. I called after her, but she said not to worry. She was meeting Harmony, and they’d be right back.” He swiped at his face with a dirty fist.

  “What happened then?” Sven prompted.

  “I told Chase to follow her. ‘Go guard Aunt Melody,’ I said, and he took off down the road. I felt a little better then,” the boy said. “But just before you got back Chase came storming into the yard barking and jumping and pulling on my sleeve. Something’s wrong, Pa. I think Aunt Melody’s in trouble.”

  Sven rubbed his hand over his son’s hair. “You did a good job, Micah. I’m proud of you. That was quick thinking.” He looked over the boy’s head. “You men better go find your wives,” he said. “Lars and I will stay here with the women and children in case trouble finds its way to our door.”

  “Come on, Mitch,” Matt turned his horse toward the road.

  Mitch mounted his own horse and motioned to Chase. “Find Melody, Chase, find Melody.”

  Chase turned toward the road and let long legs eat the distance. Matt and Mitch followed close behind, eyes searching.

  “Please, please, let them be all right,” Matt whispered his plea.

  “Please.”

  Chapter 16

  Harmony had not intended to disobey. No, she had not.

  She’d resisted Melody’s siren calls like a sailor lashed to the mast. She went to the café with Matt for dinner and cooked supper for the two of them. Oh, that food was awful, and she knew it. She giggled at the memory of those biscuits. They had nothing in common with the fluffy, flakey circles of perfection she’d eaten at Journey’s End. Her biscuits had been lumps of lead. They sank to the bottom of your stomach like a stone thrown in a pond, but Matt had eaten them with a straight face and kind eyes. He’d taken the ones left over to work the next day. She knew he wouldn’t force a prisoner to eat them. He wasn’t a cruel man. She suspected he’d thrown them to the stray dogs that lingered about town.

  Melody kept her informed of activities at Journey’s End. The ladies had worked in the vegetable garden, took the children to the river, baked. Harmony longed for her sister, hungered for her like a person starving, but she missed the fun and companionship of Journey’s End almost as much.

  Sitting in the house she shared with Matt, she was alone, lonely, bored. Melody knew it and understood. Matt assured her that she would meet more people and forge new friendships. They would attend church and the social activities that went with it. He was right. She would meet other women in town, and they were most likely fine and friendly, but none of them were Melody. Having a twin, an identical twin, colored the world a new shade of necessary. They needed each other like salt needs pepper. Her parents had been right when they named them Harmony and Melody. Without the other, their song was incomplete, diminished, curtailed.

  Today’s message from her sister probed her emotions like a tongue seeks a sore tooth. Melody’s voice echoed in her mind. You’re unhappy, and I can feel it. Come to Journey’s End. I’ll meet you halfway.

  She’d clenched her bottom. It had recovered from the last spanking, but she didn’t relish the thought of another one.

  I know, I know, they’ll spank us, but I miss you. Please come.

  Harmony matched the shrug she knew her sister had given with one of her own.

  All right, she replied, I’m on my way.

  She wouldn’t leave a note for Matt. He’d know where she’d gone. She hated to worry him. But, really, what could possibly happen on the three-mile walk between Ford and Journey’s End? Every time they had gone there, the road had been deserted. Flowers bloomed in the spring fields, birds sang, squirrels skittered in the trees, and branches swayed like ballet dancers in the gentle breeze. Not only was the walk delightful, it was perfectly safe.

  She pulled a bonnet over her hair, tied the ribbon to the side just under her ear, squared her shoulders and stepped through the door. The first step taken, she followed it at a quick clip until she reached the bend in the road where town ended and the Journey’s End road began. She was out of sight of town and on her way to Melody. Her heart sang a happy tune.

  Harmony arrived at the halfway point. She removed her bonnet giving the breeze a better chance to run its cool fingers through her hair and peered at the road ahead. Where was Melody? She gave the large tree to her left a hearty stare. This was the location where they’d decided to meet. She was sure of it. Well, she’d keep on towards Journey’s End. They would meet sooner or later. There was only the one road, after all.

 
Harmony gave her decision a nod of approval, and proceeded toward her goal. She was bent at the waist picking buttercups and purple wildflowers to take to her sister when a large, calloused hand clamped over her mouth.

  Fear flared up her spine like a fourth of July rocket. Memories of the mountain man taking her captive ran through her mind on a continuous loop. She had to escape. Kicking back with her right leg, she landed a solid blow to a man’s knee.

  “Stop that, you little bitch,” he snarled and lifted her from her feet. He swung her back and forth jerking her from side to side like a puppet on a string.

  Harmony opened her mouth wide enough to catch the man’s finger in her mouth and bit, bit hard. Bit until she tasted blood.

  The man threw her from him. She stumbled, but regained her feet and ran. His steps sounded behind her, coming closer, closer, gaining ground. Please, Melody, please be around this bend.

  A rough hand grabbed her upper arm in a vise-like grip. His fingers clutched her with bruising strength and she struggled, struggled for her life.

  The man swung her to face him and pulled his arm across his body. He was going to backhand her. Matt had told her that was what it was called. Oh, Matt, she thought, I’m sorry. I’ve done it again. I’ve let myself get caught by a man up to no good, no good at all. She peeked at his bushy beard and small, angry eyes. She gasped. It was one of the men from the train. The robbers who shot Nan dead without a second thought and left her to die in the snow. Nan had been a petty nuisance, a minor inconvenience, to those men. Her life would be held in no higher regard.

  Harmony managed a long shriek before his hand exploded with such force she flew backwards and landed in the road. The robber was upon her in a second and shoved a dirty handkerchief into her mouth. Her gorge rose at the taste, and she swallowed convulsively. The mountain man had done that also. Harmony ceased struggling. He would hit her again, and she didn’t want to enter that midnight terror of unconsciousness. If he followed the expected procedure, he would drag her to a hiding place, restrain her, and then the true horror would begin.