Read Teaching Miss Maisie Jane Online
Authors: Mariella Starr
Teaching Miss Maisie Jane
Teaching
Miss Maisie Jane
By
Mariella
Starr
©2012
by Blushing Books® and Mariella Starr
All
rights reserved.
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Starr, Mariella
Teaching
Miss Maisie Jane
eBook ISBN: 978-1-62750-2696
Cover
Design by edhgraphics.blogspot.com
This book is intended for
adults only
. Spanking and other sexual activities represented in this book are fantasies only, intended for adults. Nothing in this book should be interpreted as Blushing Books' or the author's advocating any non-consensual spanking activity or the spanking of minors.
Table of Contents:
Arizona Territory, Late August 1870
The stagecoach jolted and Maisie Jane grabbed for the edge of the open window to keep from sliding off the seat. Her hooped skirt flipped up and she desperately struggled to sit up and push it back down. Thankfully, there were no other passengers in the coach, the last one having gotten off at a stagecoach swing station where the driver had yelled at her to “do what she needed to get done” because he was leaving in ten minutes.
She
had scrambled inside, only to find that there was no dinner waiting for the passengers other than a few squares of dry cornbread and several strips of overdone bacon. She’d wrapped them up in a clean handkerchief and put them into her reticule. Then, she’d hurried outside to find the facilities, which had turned out to be a filthy, stinking outhouse. Maisie Jane had been dismayed at the prospect but had used it
regardless, grateful at least for the small latch lock on the privy door that afforded her some sense of privacy.
She
went back inside the station and asked if she could possibly have something to drink and an old man grunted and poured what looked to be cold tea into a quart jar and screwed a lid on it. “That’ll be a nickel,” he grunted.
Maisie
Jane stretched up to her full height - which at barely five foot wasn’t much - and she looked at the man with obvious disdain. “My ticket entitles me to three full meals a day at the expense of the stage line.”
“You
don’t pay, you don’t get it,” the old man grunted.
Maisie
Jane bit her lip. She wasn’t very good at demanding what should be rightfully hers. She felt the tears coming but she swallowed them down. She was going to have to get tougher to do what she must do.
“Give
‘er the jar, Freemont,” the stagecoach driver snarled and the old man pushed it across the table. “Girl, if’n you want to get to Bisbee, you’d better be getting onboard.”
Maisie
Jane nodded, snatched the jar, and got onboard. She always had difficulties getting her hoops through the door, but the driver gave her a rough shove and in she went, headfirst.
This
was her first trip, the first time she’d ever gone anywhere, and she wasn’t enjoying it in the least. In spite of all the beautiful posters hanging on the wall of the original stagecoach line office where she’d purchased her tickets, and all the promises of lovely hotel rooms and fine meals served throughout the trip, those amenities had only lasted until the stage had gone through St. Louis, Missouri. Since then, every stop seemed to be getting worse. Since she’d crossed into the territory of Arizona there were more and more swing stations which only allowed a ten-minute stop to change horses and very little else. The night before they’d stopped at a home station where she’d expected a room and bed, but instead had been shown to a tiny room with a dirt floor and a pile of blankets. She hadn’t dared to fall asleep and had sat on the pile of dirty blankets all night, scared to death of things she could hear scampering around in the dark. She’d kept a candle burning for peace of mind until it burned out, and then she’d sneaked outside the room and sat against the door until morning.
Maisie
Jane was so tired; she kept finding herself drifting off to sleep only to be jolted awake by the stagecoach hitting a rut or large hole in the road. She peeked out the window beyond the shade and saw nothing but sand and mountains in the distance and sat back only to straighten as she realized the stagecoach was slowing and stopping.
With
wide frightened eyes she peered out again, fearing robbers or bandits, but it was only one man flagging down the stagecoach. He was carrying a saddle.
The
stagecoach came to a halt and driver yelled down. “Is that you, Jake Maddox?”
“It
is,” the man said shortly. “Got room for pick-up?”
“What
happened to your horse?”
“Run
into a nest of rattlers. Had to shoot him, he was bit up bad. Damn shame too, it was good horse. You got room inside, or can I hitch a ride on top? I got to be in Bisbee for a trial by three tomorrow.”
“Only
got one little bitty gal inside. Snippy little thing, traveling all the way from Mary-land. Won’t say why, but she’s getting off at Bisbee too. Get on board, then. I guess what the coach line don’t know about won’t hurt 'um.”
The
man named Jake Maddox stepped up on the wheel rims and tossed his saddle and horse blanket to the driver who secured it to top luggage rack.
Jake
opened the door and was stopped by a wall of ruffled petticoats. “Ma’am.”
Two
small hands pushed the petticoats and hoops down and scooted as close to the opposite door as she could get. “Sorry, sir.”
Jake
climbed in and set his saddlebags and a satchel on the seat, propped his rifle against the door, re-adjusted his gun holster and settled in the seat opposite of a young girl. He took a long look at her. Who in their right mind would send a female child across the territories without an escort?
“Miss, are you traveling alone?” Jake demanded sharply.
The girl - a pretty little thing - had dark brown hair falling in fat sausage curls around her face and bonnet, large green eyes ringed by heavy dark lashes and a child’s skin, smooth and clear of blemishes.
She turned her head and looked toward the window.
“Miss?” his voice was low and graveled. He was dry, having almost emptied his canteen several hours earlier and he needed a drink—preferably out of his flask - but he couldn’t do that in front of the young girl.
“Miss, I asked you a question.” Jake repeated.
She turned in his direction, her pert little nose going up in the air. “It was an impertinent question, sir. We have not been introduced.”
Jake
offered a grin of lazy amusement. “Well ma’am, there doesn’t seem to be anyone here to introduce us. I’m Deputy Jake Maddox, of the territory of Arizona. And you are…?”
The
young miss bit her lower lip, half of a full and perfect Cupid’s bow. “Miss Maisie Jane Jackson, sir. How do you do?” She offered tiny little, lace-covered hand to him and he shook it.
“I
do fine,” Jake said with a nod of his head and tip of his hat. “Now, ma’am would you answer my question?”
Miss
Maisie Jane Jackson shook her head, sending her curls bouncing. “I don’t believe that is any of your business, sir.” One eyebrow lifted on the man and he removed his Stetson. His face was strong and deeply tanned, with a squared jaw, and deep blue eyes. His hair, a light shade of brown, was wet from sweat and curling at the nape of his neck.
Jake
stared at her hard and thought the impudent little bit of sass needed to be put in her place. “Miss, I’m the law in this part of the country and when a man of the law asks a question it deserves an answer.”
“I
don’t have to answer your questions,” Miss Maisie Jane exclaimed with a huff. “I have a right to travel without being accosted.”
“Have
it your way,” Jake said, reaching down into his saddlebags and pulling out a pair of handcuffs. “I’ll just slap these handcuffs on you and haul your little fanny into the jail when we reach Bisbee and hold you as a runaway until I can get some answers.”
“You
can’t arrest me!” Maisie Jane exclaimed outraged at the idea. “I haven’t done anything wrong!”
“I
won’t be arresting you, Miss, I’ll be holding you,” Jake said sternly. “Until I can find out who you belong to, and can get you back to them safely.”
Jake
watched the girl as she looked away and large fat tears formed on her eyelashes. She swallowed several times, and dashed the tears away with those pretty lace gloves.
“I
am not a runaway, Mr. Maddox and I do not belong to anyone now. All my kinfolk either died in the war or have since died. I’m going to Bisbee to claim the body of my brother James Braddock Jackson, put a headstone on his grave, and make sure a proper service is said over his internment. I was traveling with a chaperone, an older woman whom I contracted to accompany me and for which I paid for her passage and a salary. As it turns out, she was not an honorable woman. She had no intention of going any further than St. Louis, Missouri. I had no choice but to continue my journey alone and fulfill my duty. I know I appear younger, but I am twenty-one years old, the age of majority. I am old enough to make decisions for myself.”
The
lawman looked doubtful at her last declaration. “What year were you born in?” he demanded.
“I
was born in 1849, and that sir, is a very impertinent question.”
She
answered quickly, and Jake did a quick calculation and realized the numbers matched. She didn’t look like she was lying and he could usually tell if someone was lying. Either she was telling the truth or had done the math herself in order to provide a fast answer.
“Impertinent
or not, it’s a damn fool thing for you to be doing, Miss. Twenty-one or not, you look about fourteen. This is dangerous country for any woman to be traveling by herself, let alone a half-grown girl of obvious genteel upbringing,” Jake growled.
“I
am not a child, Mr. Maddox,” Maisie Jane snapped, bringing her little chin up in defiance. “And, your opinion is of no importance to me, sir. I am a woman of age, and of the authority to make my own decisions. My journey, sir, is almost complete. When I have completed what I need to do, I will make my future plans accordingly.”
Jake
opened his mouth to refute this sassy little… when he heard rifle shots and felt the coach speed up as the driver shouted “HA! HA!” at the team of horses. He pulled his rifle out and swung it out the window and took aim.
Maisie
turned to look out the window and found herself shoved down into the floor space of the stagecoach; her skirt hoops not fitting in the small space flipped upward almost over her head.
“Stay
down,” Jake shouted and he fired off three shots in rapid succession.
Maisie
dragged herself up and attempted to look out the window, only to have that large forceful lawman shove her down again. “Damn, it, I said stay down!” he yelled and fired off two more shots.
The
stagecoach was slowing down. Jake Maddox opened the door, leaned out and fired off another shot and then tossed the rifle onto the seat. He looked down into the frightened young woman’s face. “Stay down and don’t come out until I say it’s safe!”
Just
as he was about to step out he got his foot caught in Maisie Jane’s whale-boned hoop and he almost fell outward. With a quick reaction he grabbed the rim of the door and gave his foot a jerk and the hoop ripped away. He pulled himself out the door and up and over the luggage rack, working his way to the driver’s seat. The driver was lying sideways across the seat, his chest covered in blood. Jake yanked the reins out of the driver’s hands and reined in the horses until they stopped, heaving and lathered from the forced run. He pulled the coach brake and picked up the rifle off the seat beside the driver and aimed it, searching the area for any other potential threats. When he didn’t spot anything, he set the rifle down and hauled the driver down to the ground and checked to see if he was breathing.
“Is
he going to be all right?” Maisie Jane asked stepping down from the coach.
Jake
closed the driver’s eyes and stood up, suddenly furious. “Did I tell you it was safe to come out?” he demanded.
Maisie
Jane stopped and shook her head, fat sausage curls bouncing.
“Damn
it, girl,” Jake yelled taking three steps to the young woman and gave her a hard shake. “Have you got a death wish? I tell you to stay down, and you get right up again! I tell you to stay put and you don’t listen!”
Maisie
Jane stepped back in shock and tripped over her broken hoops falling flat on her bottom which caused the wide hoops to frail upward exposing the seven petticoats and a set of white ruffled pantaloons.
“Damn
it,” Jake growled, as he reached down and pulled the young woman to her feet and in one swift motion turned her around, lifted her multi-layered ruffled dress skirt and gave a yank to the whalebone hoop and ripped them off her in one motion and tossed them aside.
Maisie
Jane gasped in shock, as she felt her undergarment being ripped apart from her by a man she’d barely met. “Damn, silliest female contraptions I’ve ever seen!” he shouted angrily. She backed away from his anger as he turned to her and with fury still in his eyes he reached for her, turned her around, and flipped up her dress and petticoats again. Maisie opened her mouth to protest but instead yelped when he shouted, “Don’t you ever do anything that stupid again!” as he landed four hard swats across the bottom of her pantaloons with his bare hand.
Maisie
was released as fast as she was accosted and she stumbled back, her lips quivering in surprise, shock and from the sting from her bottom.
“See
if you can find some blankets in the hatch at the back of the coach,” Jake Maddox ordered. Then he walked over to unhitch the horses without a backward glance.