Chapter 5

Hannah POV

When Jamie helped me off the wagon, I didn’t want his hands to let go of me. I tried to cover my feelings by dismissing him rather quickly. When I turned to look at my husband, I was astonished. This was NOT a twenty-two-year-old man. No, this man was old enough to be my father! How is this possible? Was there a mistake? Or did the man lie to Mrs. Sheffield? Play it cool, Hannah, I thought to myself. I would not allow this man to know that he had been caught in a lie, for surely that is what had happened. I listened quietly as he dismissed Jamie without even a glance, as if Jamie was a slave and of no value. While I had dismissed him just a few moments ago, it wasn’t because I felt Jamie was of lesser status than I. I had to say something to cover up just how much his presence affected me. For surely, if Mr. Beecham found out, he would dismiss Jamie from service and I couldn’t allow that to happen on my account.

Taking in Mr. Beecham’s appearance was a complete shock. He was short and squatty with brown hair that was beginning to thin and grey. His brown eyes were dull and flat as they looked over my figure. This was definitely going to be an interesting marriage. I was at least two inches taller and he looked as though he would squash me when we laid together in bed. What had I gotten myself into?

I followed Mr. Beecham inside and he showed me to the rear of the house and into a bedroom. The focal point of the room was a large bed, which was unmade and had the appearance that a struggle had occurred. I looked away from the bed and took in the rest of the room. An armoire sat in the corner, the construction was very fine and the detail work on the top, edges and bottom must have taken the creator quite a bit of time. It was by far the loveliest piece I had ever seen. A small table sat near the door with a looking glass, ewer and basin. The room was sparsely furnished and it was obvious that a bachelor lived here. I glanced back at Mr. Beecham and he gave me a lewd look. As if he couldn’t wait to get me into that unmade bed. Hoping to slow down his advances, I blushed prettily, it was easy to do because I thought of Jamie.

“Hannah, you are by far the loveliest woman I have ever seen. I honestly cannot wait to make you mine in every way. However, you must be famished and want to wash up a bit after your journey. I have a bath ready for you in the spare room and after you have bathed, we can have a quiet meal while we get to know one another,” Mr. Beecham said.

“That sounds lovely, Mr. Beecham,” I replied, trying to settle my nerves. Maybe he was a gentleman after all. Maybe his lewdness was just a cover for his sensitivity. I have heard that some men find it to be a weakness to show their softer side. I just couldn’t tell.

“Now, Hannah, we are married. Please call me Robert”

“Robert, yes. I, I suppose we should dispense with the formalities. Please lead the way to the bath,” I stuttered, hoping to maintain some distance from him. The aura that surrounded him gave me an uneasy feeling and until I sorted things out in my head, I was going to be wary of him. I needed time to take everything in. Robert turned and showed me to a room next door that contained a long, narrow clawfoot tub filled with hot water. Even in the summer heat, I could see the steam coming from the tub. I stepped past him, reached for my bags and tried to close the door, but Robert put his hand out to stop me.

“Hannah, you can leave the door open. No one will enter this house. I give you my word. Besides, as my wife, your body is mine to look upon any time I desire,” his tone made me aware that I would have no choice in the matter. I looked at him in astonishment, my anger rising. So, I let go of the door and turned and walked further into the room. When I felt I was far enough from him and had reigned in my anger, I turned and said, “Robert, we are not yet truly married. Surely you can understand how I feel. As a virgin, no man has seen me unclothed and I am nervous. Please allow me some time to rest and gather my wits about me. Then later, after a meal and conversation, as you yourself suggested just moments ago, we can come together completely.” I tried placating him, enough though I was irate and shocked by his attitude. He definitely did not have a sensitive side. My first instincts were proving true. He was a cad.

“Quite right, I wasn’t thinking of your comfort just now. Please, take your time in the bath and come to the kitchen when you are ready,” he said, backing out of the room and closing the door. I hurried over and clicked the lock, ensuring my solitude at least for the time being. I could only hope the lock would keep him out.

I turned and took in the rest of the room. A table sat along the wall, topped with a good-sized mirror leaning against the wall. The table had a chair placed in front of it, and I was happy to know that I would have a place to prepare my hair each day. The sole window in the room was covered by pale blue curtains that looked as though they had seen better days. I would have to replace those very soon.

A few minutes later, I was relaxing in the bath, truly enjoying the luxury after two weeks of nothing but spit bathing while on the stage coach. I began to think over everything that had happened since I arrived in Paris, Texas.

First, a very handsome cowboy met me at the stage. I was truly saddened that he wasn’t my betrothed, for he was a fine specimen of a man. One who, even though I refused to admit it out loud, made my drawers wet just imagining what he could do to me. As I relaxed in the bath, I began to imagine being kissed by him. My imagination began to run away and I had to rein it back in. Whoa! Slow down, girl. This can’t happen. He isn’t yours. I thought to myself. As I continued to wash myself, I realized that my nipples were now hard and remembered what Mary Jane shared with me so many months ago, “when a woman is aroused her nipples will become hard and stand erect and her juices will flow, making her drawers wet”. Yeah, I didn’t want to continue thinking that Jamie was the reason for my wet drawers earlier today and he was most definitely NOT the reason for my hard nipples!

OK Hannah, back to sorting out this mess! Enough about Jamie, you can’t have him. And STOP calling him Jamie, he is Mr. Smythe! Got it!

Secondly, the drive from town was pleasant. I would guess that Paris was about five miles or so from the ranch, considering the amount of time it took to arrive. A few trees dotted the prairie, giving a little bit of shade. I had very little time to admire the beauty of it with Jamie, eh Mr. Smythe, sitting next to me. The ranch was lovely. I spotted a barn large enough to house at least a dozen horses and a bunkhouse. I wondered how many men worked here. I spotted a small garden on the east side of the house. It looked as though it hadn’t been tended to in years. That was something I would rectify immediately. It was too late in the year to plant but I could till it and prepare it for springtime. The outside of the house gave a homey feel with a porch that wrapped around the west side of the house. I can imagine sitting outside in the evening and watching the sunset. Yes, it would be the perfect end to each day.

Thirdly, Mr. Beecham. Ugh, Robert. He definitely was NOT what I had pictured. I couldn’t figure him out. One moment, he was cool and almost charming. The next, he was arrogant and vulgar. I would have to be careful around him. His clothing was clean, pressed, impeccable in appearance. However, I could detect an aroma of liquor coming from them. Which meant this man drank to excess. Great! I was married to a short, fat, vulgar, drunk person! How was I ever going to survive this? It was true what I told him about being nervous, although for the reason he might have guessed. I was nervous about his demeanor, his mood changes had me twisted in knots and I had only been there a few hours.

I could leave. Ask him to take me back to town. I could get back on the stage and go back to St. Louis. Oh right, I didn’t have the finances to do that. I barely had anything left of my savings. I might get back to Arkansas, but I would never make it back to St. Louis. I was stuck. I wondered if this was why Jamie wouldn’t comment on Mr. Beecham, ugh Robert. It was going to be difficult to call him by his given name when I couldn’t stand him.

Knowing that I had delayed long enough and that if I didn’t join him soon, he would try to join me, I got out of the bath and dressed in a fresh gown. This one was yellow with white flowers embroidered on the bodice. It was one of my favorite dresses. I only had three dresses, but a girl can have a favorite one, right? Taking a deep breath to steady my racing heart and calm my nerves, I left the room and found my way to the kitchen.

The kitchen was in the same living space as the parlor. The parlor on the south side and the kitchen on the north. I took in the modest kitchen that included a pot belly cook stove, a sink with a pump for water, and the side board, a table just about waist high for preparing meals, was just to the left of the window. The window was above the pump sink. The table in the center of the space was small enough to be cozy but large enough to seat six adults. The table had a beautiful ornate design on the top and the legs had the same filigree design as the armoire. Clearly, the creator had made both pieces.

Robert was seated at the head of the table and I sat down at the other end of the table, hoping my distance wouldn’t offend him. He smiled at me and stood up, moving to the stove to bring the meal to the table.

“I had Cookie prepare venison stew. I hope that is okay with you,” he stated with a smile on his face. A smile, I noted, that did not meet his eyes.

“Yes, that is fine. It smells wonderful. Who is Cookie?” I asked after taking a deep whiff of the amazing aroma coming from the pot.

“Cookie is one of the hands, he cooks all of my meals. But now that you are here, you shall cook for us. You can cook, yes? They told me that you could,” Robert replied, again with an air of arrogance, but this time when I looked at him, he had a smirk on his face.

“Yes, I can cook. Quite well, so I am told.”

“Well, that will remain to be seen. We will put you to the test tomorrow, hmm.”

He dipped some stew for me onto my plate and then served himself. Given his latest comment, I was shocked he actually served me. His impression led me to believe that this man expected to be waited on hand and foot. I smiled politely at him and waited for him to sit back down before I dug into my meal. As I took the first bite, I savored the smell coming from it and my stomach growled. I chuckled and began to chew. It was so good. I might have to talk with Cookie and get his recipe. My stew was not even close to as good as this.

“This is quite good. So many flavors. A good welcome home meal. Thank you for asking Cookie to prepare it,” I said, meaning every word, as I enjoyed the potatoes, carrots, venison and broth. It truly was a remarkable meal and I hope that I will be able to recreate it in the future.

“I don’t ask people to do things. He is an employee and he does what he is told,” Robert remarked, once again reminding me that his word was law here at Weston Ranch and he obviously considered his employees to be unimportant and not worth his respect.

We ate silently for several minutes before my curiosity got the best of me once again. “So, Robert. Why is the ranch called Weston? I only ask because your last name is Beecham,” I inquired, hoping to get to know this man who is now my husband.

“That was the name of the place when I acquired it. I think the previous owner was Weston. I never had a mind to change the name. It doesn’t really matter, it is mine now,” he replied.

“I didn’t mean to offend you; I was just curious. So, you do know what happened to Mr. Weston?”

“Yes, he stole another man’s woman. When the man tried to take her home, Weston attacked him and was shot and killed for trespassing,” he told me, but for some reason, his words sounded as if they were filled with anger. Why did that make me feel as though his words did not ring true?

“How dreadful. What happened to the woman? Was she reunited with the man she was stolen from?” I asked curiously. Mysteries had always intrigued me and I was definitely intrigued, probably because he sounded full of anger at the incident.

“No, unfortunately. When the man went to her home to retrieve her, he found her dead. It was assumed that her captor had beaten and killed her. This place stood empty for a time and then I was able to acquire it rather easily when the son never returned to claim the land. The son is most likely dead.”

“Her home? I thought you said she was taken from her home?” I asked.

“No, yes. I mean, she was taken from her home and the man went to the home she was staying and tried to take her home. But enough to talk about those unpleasant events, tell me about you. Where are your parents?” he effectively closed one subject and turned to another.

I didn’t answer him right away. I was shocked by his response. He had stammered when I asked whose home she was at. What wasn’t he telling me? When I finally answered him, I did so very cautiously because I didn’t feel comfortable sharing the sacred memory of my parents with him, “my parents died in a fire when I was fifteen.” Their memory always brought tears to my eyes.

I expected him to offer his condolences. However, he didn’t respond. And when I took a deep breath and wiped the tears away before looking at him, trying to smile through my tears, I noticed that he wasn’t even looking at me. He was eating his stew as if I had not just said my parents were dead. His silence made me again wonder what I had gotten myself into and so I pushed the memories of my family back into the box that I had placed them in to keep them safe. I wouldn’t share anything else about my parents with him, at least not until he proved to me that I was important to him.

The rest of the meal passed as we talked about mundane topics. I shared nothing of substance as I was still unsure about this man. Too many unanswered questions. As the meal drew to a close, Robert inquired in a low voice, “Hannah, you are everything I imagined you would be. Am I what you imagined?”

“Honestly, Robert. I am not sure what I imagined. I am curious though, and please don’t be offended. But why would you send for a mail order bride at your age? It is obvious that you are much older than I. In fact, the information I received stated that you were in your twenties,” I responded, finding the courage to ask one of the many questions that arose upon meeting him earlier that afternoon.

“It is true that I am older. But I hope that makes me wiser and more knowledgeable in husbandly affairs. I did tell Mrs. Sheffield that I was twenty-two because I knew that at my age, it would be difficult to obtain a young, fertile wife. And that is my goal. My main purpose in marrying is to create an heir. As a man ages, he realizes that he is nothing without the legacy he leaves behind. And without an heir, I have no legacy. So, I sent for a bride and here. You. Are.” he stately, pausing between each of his final words.

I chose to pretend to process his words, when, in reality, I was mortified. Firstly, he admitted to lying. What else did he lie about? Secondly, and the present, most importantly, did he expect me to become pregnant right away? I loved children, but at twenty-two I was not yet ready to have children. And I really wasn’t sure I wanted a child with him. I would definitely continue with the child prevention measures that Mary Jane shared with us.

Mary Jane shared a feminine wash recipe that she promised was very effective and was used by the girls in the brothel where she grew up. With Robert’s determination to have an heir, the trick was going to be using the wash within a few minutes of sexual relations. I will have to try to keep him from releasing inside of me tonight. That would allow me time to prepare the solution. Tomorrow I will have time to insert the womb veil made of sheep skin. Thank you, Mary Jane, for sharing the secrets of life in a brothel.

“An heir would be lovely, and I am certain that one will come when the time is right. God orchestrates all aspects of our lives. He will give us a child when He is ready for us to conceive,” I finally responded and watched as Robert’s eyes grew dark.

“Well, it is our duty to help God by making sure that we give every opportunity for my seed to take root within your womb. Waiting on God takes too long,” he smirked.

I blushed and looked out the window, not saying anything because I knew it would only make things worse. I noticed that the sun was setting. I stood, having finished my meal, and gathered the dishes and took them to the sink. I began to draw water for washing dishes. They would have to be washed in the cold well water this time, because no one had warmed any water on the stove. As I washed the dishes, I took note of the spices on the shelf. Hmm. It appears I am missing a few things for the solution that would keep me from getting pregnant. Once the dishes and the pot were cleaned, I left them to dry on the side board. I turned to look at Robert who was staring at me. But he wasn’t actually seeing me. It was as if he was looking right through me.

I moved toward him, ready to complete my duty for the evening. Even though I didn’t want to, for he repulsed me in every way. I had made a promise by agreeing to marry him and I would honor that promise. But it didn’t mean I had to enjoy it. Jamie's face flickered through my mind and I knew that if he was mine, I would not hesitate to become one with him and I was quite certain he would endeavor to make sure that I enjoyed every minute of our coupling. Reaching Robert, however, I pulled my thoughts back under my control and moved to touch his arm. The contact startled him and he glanced up at me from his seated position, “all done?”

I nodded and he rose from his seat and said, “I will go and lock up the house and make sure that everything is settled for the evening. Will that give you time to prepare for bed?”

“Yes.”

“I will join you in just a few moments.” With that he walked outside, I assumed to visit the outhouse, so I hurried to the bedroom and changed into my nightgown, silently thanking the Lord above for a few more minutes of privacy. I had just climbed into bed and pulled the covers up to my chin when he returned to bed. He looked at me and the lewd look from before was back. He closed the door to the room and strode to bed, stripping as he went. Trust me when I tell you that being naked did nothing for his appearance. His cock looked nothing like what I imagined. It was small and drooped to the side, just barely standing out from the hair that surrounded it. The hair surrounding his cock appeared to matted, like something was sticking to it. I looked back up at him and he grinned as he grabbed his cock and began massaging it, “It’s okay darling. Look all you want; this perfection is all yours.”

Oh, the arrogance of this man! Perfection, my ass. More like damaged goods. I knew from talking with Mary Jane that this man should be ashamed of his cock. It was small in comparison to most. I wanted to gag as I realized that this man would not please me in bed. This was going to be rutting, nothing more. He would find pleasure for himself and I would be left in the cold. I would never feel the heat of passion and know what it felt like to find release in the arms of a man who cared. I wanted to cry for my broken dreams.

He crawled into bed and got under the covers. He then rolled over on top of me and began to pull up my nightgown. I didn’t fight him because I had no choice but to allow him to take my virginity. Once he had my nightgown pulled up further enough, he pushed my legs apart and in one fell swoop thrust inside of me and I cried out from the pain. I felt as though I was being split in two. Thinking I cried out in pleasure, he began rutting in my hole as if his life depended on it. I tried to breathe through the pain and after a minute or two the pain from my torn barrier was gone. Focus Hannah! You can’t let him release inside of you. Remember what Mary Jane said to do….

I lay perfectly still while Robert continued to rut in me. I could just feel him within my inner walls. His body was beginning to shake and he was sweating all over me and I knew he was close to release. I, on the other hand, found no pleasure and was trying not to vomit as I focused on his movements. Just as he began to release, I pushed him over onto his back and said, “I want to ride my cowboy.” At the same time, he released all over my legs and my stomach. I looked down at my stomach and said, while faking a sad look, “Oh baby, did I wait too long to decide to ride you this time?” I sat back dejectedly, pretending to be disappointed. It worked, he failed to release inside of me and, by the look of him, he was spent.

“Hannah, that was amazing. Although I would have preferred to c*m inside of you. Next time though. Yeah, next time you can ride me. I didn’t know you liked that. Hmmm, you definitely are a conundrum,” he responded breathlessly. He was completely winded from his exertions, while I was not even the slightest bit aroused. He was so deluded. He pulled the covers up over himself and turned away from me and quickly fell asleep. I slipped out of bed and made my way to the bathing room and cleaned myself up as best as I could.

As I made my way back to the bedroom and crawled into bed, I once again thanked God for bringing Mary Jane into my life. Without her, I no doubt would be forced to become pregnant by a man that repulsed me. I just had to find a way out of this marriage. I drifted off to sleep with a smile on my face knowing that tonight he failed to plant an heir in my womb.