Mary Quite Contrary by Amelia Smarts
Chapter Twelve
The doctor predicted that Ben would make a full recovery, but Ben suspected otherwise. As the weeks and months passed, what Ben feared came to be true. He was able to move his arm in every direction and even roll his shoulders without pain, but there was a slight hitch to every movement. To a civilian, this wouldn’t matter, but to a gunslinger, that fraction of a delay caused his weapon draw to be only slightly above average at best, not the most impressive draw west of the Mississippi as it had been before.
He kept his knowledge to himself when he returned to work, though he intended to tell the marshal eventually. He delayed relaying the information because it was nearly impossible to admit it to himself, let alone another person, and he also held out small hope that he was wrong and, after a few more months, he would be back to normal.
As for Mary, he planned to tell her too, but his state of denial also delayed that. Ben was sad about being limited in such a way. He’d taken such pride in his gun skills that he felt as though the most impressive part of him was suddenly gone. He didn’t show how upset he was to anyone. His work in Thorndale continued as before, with him resolving issues using his wit rather than his weapon.
On a slow Tuesday afternoon, Ben remained at the marshal’s office while Clyde attended a meeting in the town square along with the mayor to report that all of the thieves from the gang of robbers had been caught in at least one act of wrongdoing and had been apprehended. The sheriff of the county was also in attendance. Word was that Clyde’s surveillance strategy had saved many people in Thorndale from being robbed, as well as in other towns from future robberies, and Thorndale was in line to receive budget increases for higher salaries for both Ben and Clyde.
Ben wouldn’t say no to a pay raise, but his thoughts weren’t on money except as it related to a future with Mary. She caught him daydreaming alone in the office about how they would spend their days. She swooshed in the door and called out, “Yoo hoo!” The woman knew how to make an entrance.
“Hello, darlin’, what a nice surprise,” he said, standing from behind the marshal’s desk. He rounded it and met her, taking hold of her hands and giving her a kiss on the lips.
“It’s such a slow day at the restaurant, I decided to close up early.” She looked around. “Seems a bit slow here too.”
“It is,” Ben agreed. “No trouble to speak of.”
“Do you remember some time back you suggested we go shooting sometime? It was… before.”
She didn’t need to expound on ‘before.’ They both knew what that meant. In both of their lives, there was a clear line between ‘before’ and ‘after.’ Before they started courting… and after. Before he was shot in the shoulder… and after. That these two major events happened on the exact same day only served to heighten the division between the two time periods.
“I remember,” Ben said. “I offered to teach you how to shoot and you informed me that you’re already a darn good shot.”
She smiled. “I like to think I am anyway.”
It was then that she did something astonishing. She hiked up her skirts and placed a foot high on the desk, revealing a small pistol from the garter secured above her knee. The entire performance made Ben’s heart pump faster, especially as his eyes lingered on her creamy bare thighs peeking from between the garter straps.
“My god, you’re going to be the death of me.” He prowled behind her. When she put her foot back down on the floor, he reached down under her skirts and ran his hands up along her legs. He untied her drawers and clutched the fleshy curves of her bottom. With nimble fingers, he spread her cheeks apart, causing her to gasp.
“Ben, we’re in your office,” she whispered in a scandalized voice.
“Indeed we are, you naughty temptress.” He cupped his hand over her bare pussy and then gave it a muffled swat, causing her to jump backwards straight against the hardness of his chest. “You should have thought of that before hiking your skirts up.”
She moaned, and he fondled her pussy mercilessly until his fingers were coated with her arousal. Her legs began to shake, and Ben could have allowed her to come. Instead, he withdrew his hand from under her skirts and pressed his hand against her back, causing her to bend down over the desk. He strode the few short steps to the front door and deadbolted it, then returned to the quivering woman bent over the desk.
He pulled her skirts up and laid them over her back. Her drawers were already untied, so he merely spread them apart, revealing to his eyes her white backside.
He spanked her a few times on each cheek, hard enough to make her squeal. “This is what happens to bad little girls who interrupt a lawman’s work.”
He spanked the juncture between her bottom and thighs, causing her to hop from one foot to the other. “Ow, Ben! That really hurts.”
He spanked her again, landing his hand over the fleshiest part of her right cheek. “It should. Bad girls get hard spankings.”
She whimpered, with as much arousal as pain, and this only served to spur Ben further. He spanked her longer than he ever had before, painted her bottom and thighs red.
“Ohh, please!” she cried, reaching a hand back to cover her bottom. “Not so hard.”
He took hold of her wrist and pinned it against her lower back. “You know better than to try to get out of punishment,” he growled. “Spread your legs apart. Farther. That’s it.” He ran his callused fingers over the drenched slit of her pussy and then began to spank her most intimate place. He’d never given her pussy more than a few pats, but now he applied enough pressure to make her cry out and lift up on her tiptoes.
“Ben!” she gasped. “How could you punish me there?”
He released her wrist. “You came in here and showed off those beautiful thighs of yours, thinking you wouldn’t be punished and then fucked hard. But you thought wrong. That is the only possible result, my lovely girl. Now take both hands and spread those big red bottom cheeks apart. I want to see everything.”
She groaned. She reached down but barely complied, only halfway parting her buttocks.
“I said spread them,” Ben said, his voice gruff.
She then pulled her cheeks fully apart, and his cock surged as he saw the winking bottom hole and the tender spot of flesh between her rosette and pussy lips. “Keep them spread,” he ordered, as he bent down and licked her from pussy to ass. His tongue lashed every sweet inch of her, and she cried out from embarrassment and pleasure. When her legs began to tremble again, he stood upright, removed his gun belt, and freed his cock. While she was still bent over, clutching her bottom cheeks and standing on her tiptoes, he plunged his rod into her pussy.
As he plundered her, he leaned forward and growled in her ear, “Spanked and then fucked. That’s what will happen every time you come in here and show off those legs of yours. Do you understand me, young lady?”
“Oh, yes!” she cried. She let go of her bottom and clasped papers on the desk, and Ben distractedly hoped they weren’t too important.
They came hard together, their animalistic groans and cries echoing against the walls of the sparsely furnished room. When they caught their breath, Ben tied her drawers and smoothed her skirts down over her bottom. He buttoned himself up and strapped his gun belt around his waist again.
He embraced her, and she chuckled against his chest. “That was… oh, my.”
“I couldn’t agree more.” His heart was still pounding hard. Being with Mary made him nearly forget about his troubles. He could pretend that he was the best shot in the world because Mary made him feel strong and powerful. She responded so enthusiastically to his dominance that it naturally poured out of him. He smoothed his hand down her back. “Now, where were we? You mentioned target practice.”
She laughed and stepped back so she could remove the pistol from her garter, once again showing off her shapely legs as she did. He took the gun from her, curious about the type. He turned it over in his hands, admiring the shiny curves. It was an 1851 Colt Navy Revolver. Considered by many to be smoothest and handsomest of cap and ball six-guns, it was one of the more popular sidearms during the war. He himself owned one, but he rarely shot it anymore.
“My pa bought it for me in Haverton,” she explained, “and then he taught me how to shoot it. Shall we go try it out?”
Ben handed the gun back to her. “Now’s as good a time as any, I reckon.” He donned his Stetson, locked the office door behind them, and posted a note detailing his whereabouts in case a citizen in need dropped by while he was away.
Mary linked her arm in his, and they walked the short distance to a secluded spot where Flaggerty had set up several discarded scarecrows. The clothing on them was already shredded to tatters, but Mary had thought of that.
From her satchel she removed a men’s black pullover and a red flannel shirt. “Victoria gave them to me,” she explained. “She said she erred on the design and they weren’t fit to sell.”
Together they wrapped the garments around two scarecrows. It would be easy to see how well they aimed using the new material that had no bullet holes in them yet.
Mary tied up her hair.
Ben gave her a wink, leaned against a tree, and folded his arms, ready to observe her shooting. “Let’s see if you really are a good shot, or if you were only trying to impress me.”
“Now I’m nervous.” She cleared her throat and aimed. “Don’t judge me too harshly. I know you’re the best around.”
Not anymore, he thought. He watched as Mary fired off six rounds. He hadn’t known what to expect, but he was pleased to see she hadn’t exaggerated about being good with a gun. They walked to the scarecrow. Each bullet had hit the material on the chest or stomach area, and two were perfect shots to the heart.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” Ben said. “I didn’t know Annie Oakley had a sister.”
Mary giggled. She seemed to be very proud of herself and in high spirits. She slipped her hand into his. “Now it’s your turn to impress me.”
“I’m not sure I can match that,” he lied good-naturedly as they walked back to the starting position.
Normally during practice, Ben would work on both speed and accuracy. He would draw fast and shoot fast. This time, however, he slowly withdrew his Smith and Wesson. He looked through the sight and fired off six rounds at a moderate pace. As he holstered his gun, Mary exclaimed, “Looks like you killed that strawman six times over.”
Ben smiled at her before they walked to the scarecrows. To the surprise of neither, there was only one large hole in the heart area, made by six bullets.
Mary’s eyes grew large. “You really are the best.”
Ben didn’t correct her. They continued to practice. After a certain point, they exchanged weapons. When they were all out of ammunition, Mary suggested they sit under a large willow tree before returning to town.
Ben sat with his back against the trunk, while Mary lay in the grass on her side, propped up by one elbow. Now that their guns were silent, birds chirped, and a squirrel chittered at them from high in the tree. It was a pleasant afternoon, just warm enough that being in the shade brought relief.
“It’s nice to skip out on work with you,” Mary said.
“That it is. I picture us doing this every so often in the future.”
“You think about a future with me?”
“I think of hardly anything else,” he said.
A smile appeared on her face. “You’re a good man, Ben. Not nice, like you said before, but good.”
Ben matched her smile with one of his own. “Come here.”
She didn’t hesitate to obey. She scooted up next to him, and he wrapped his arm around her. She sighed deeply. “I feel so safe with you. I don’t know if I every properly thanked you for saving my life that night you got shot.”
“You being here in my arms, that’s thanks enough. I’ve wanted little else since coming to Thorndale.” He turned and kissed her cheek, then her lips. “Sweet Mary,” he whispered.
She responded to his attention and shifted so she could press her body against his and wrap her arms around his neck.
Ben was dimly aware that someone might happen upon them, so he led her to a clearing behind some thick trees to provide them cover. The ground was soft with fragrant grass, and they removed their clothes.
In the full light of day, he took his time and got to know Mary’s body intimately. He kissed each freckle along her arms and ran his fingers through her hair. Raking his hands lightly down her face and neck, he paused on her breasts, where he lingered to fondle and rub. He marveled at the two perfect pink nipples that hardened in between his thumb and forefinger when he applied slight pressure. She sighed and responded to his attention by opening up her arms and legs, like a flower blooming before his eyes. He stroked between her legs, tickling her sensitive lips.
“You make me ache, Ben.”
“Do I? What aches, baby?” he murmured.
“Down there,” she whimpered. “It aches down there.”
A deep chuckle bubbled out of him, causing her to close her eyes and smile. He said, “Well, we can’t have that.” He pushed her ankles forward. Her knees parted of their own accord, and she moaned when he leaned forward and landed soft butterfly kisses on her clit and the sensitive lips around her entrance. “I’m going to kiss your ache all better.”
She moaned. “Will you kiss it with your cock, please?”
It was Ben’s turn to moan. “You sure, darlin’? I warn you, I want to kiss it hard.”
“Oh, yes,” she said, arching her pelvis forward. “It needs to be kissed really, really hard.”
She didn’t have to ask again. He straddled his knees around her and in one smooth motion buried his cock into her. Her pussy clamped down around him, milking him as he dragged his cock back. Sparks of electricity ignited throughout his body. She groaned in pleasure when he thrust into her.
He took her slowly at first, rocking into her and savoring the sensation of having his beautiful woman attached to his body. She let out sounds of pleasure and tilted her head back, accepting him as eagerly as he gave.
Passion grew within him, and he sped up his movements. He lowered his body against hers, supporting himself with his forearms as he thrust in and out of her. He could hear in her high-pitched gasps that she was nearly there. He growled in her ear to come for him.
She cried out, and Ben’s spirits soared. “You’re such a good girl,” he said, holding her tight as her waves of pleasure made her shudder and twitch against him.
His own orgasm was not long behind. He released deep inside of her as she clutched his shoulders and sighed.
Ben collapsed next to her on the grass. “I love you,” he said, staring up at the clouds in the sky. He hadn’t planned to say that, but it was the truth. He adored her and wanted to spend the rest of his life with her.
She snuggled into his arms as he wrapped them around her. “I love you too, but you’re not supposed to say that for the first time after making love.”
“Who says?”
She shrugged. “Victoria told me a man might not mean it then. He might just be in love with my body, not with me.”
“Pshaw,” he scoffed. “Please don’t take advice from that woman.”
“She’s not that bad,” Mary said mildly.
“I beg to differ. Although she’s right about one thing. I am in love with your body.” He shifted and kissed her from her breast to her belly button. “Every inch of it.”
Mary sighed. “You’re the best man I’ve ever met. You make me feel so good.”
Her words were like salve to his soul. He wanted to share everything with her. He didn’t want a single secret thought to exist between them. “Since meeting you, I’ve wanted to be the best for you. I always seemed to say the wrong things, but you make me want to be a better man. I must confess that after the shooting, I’ve felt… less than my best, I suppose.”
Mary reached over to rest her hand on his chest. “What do you mean, Ben?”
Ben shifted slightly and laid his hand over Mary’s. “Well, it’s like this. I had a lot of pride about being known as the best shot west of the Mississippi. That might seem trite, but it was part of what made me, me, if you get my meaning. But ever since the injury, I can’t shoot as fast. There’s a slight hitch in my shoulder that makes the speed of my draw average at best. I’ll never be what I once was.”
Sadness clouded Mary’s face. “Oh, Ben, I’m so sorry.” She dropped her hand from his chest and sat up. She pulled her dress over her shoulders. “It’s all my fault. Because of me, the back door was open and the thief came in. Because of me, your gun belt was off, and you couldn’t shoot him before he shot you.”
Ben dressed too and shook his head. “No, Mary, it’s not your fault at all.” He was dismayed to see tears appear in her eyes. “I’m only telling you because I want to be the best—for you, for this town, and I admit for my own pride. But I’m not anymore. I have to face up to that.”
Mary’s shoulders drooped. She stared at the ground. “I know how you feel. I’m not my best anymore either. I contracted malaria a while ago. My fever was so high, they didn’t know if I would make it. I pulled through, but the fever took away my sense of smell and taste. I can’t smell or taste the very food I cook for people in the restaurant. I suppose that’s what life does. It damages people.”
Ben realized in that moment that they were in the exact same circumstance. They both had been injured in such a way that their occupations were affected. “Wise words,” he said, taking her hand in his. She had managed to get his mind completely off his own self-pity. Now he was focused on how he could help her. “I would be happy to help you in the kitchen. I could taste the food before you serve it and let you know if it tastes good.”
She didn’t respond right away. Her eyes studied his. “Do I need that sort of help?”
He drew a deep breath and searched for the right words. He didn’t want to hurt her feelings, but he also didn’t want to pretend that the restaurant’s food was good. He wanted to help her and tell her the truth gently before someone else did. “Sometimes it seems the flavor isn’t quite right. Too much salt or whatnot.”
Mary dropped her eyes to the ground, but not before Ben read complete devastation in her gaze. His heart sank as he realized his words had offended and hurt her worse than he’d thought they could.
She stood, her eyes still focused on the ground, and said, “I better get back to the restaurant in case anyone comes in for supper.”
Ben stood too and tried to take her hand, but she stepped back. “Mary, I’m sorry. I was only trying to help. What do I know about food anyway? You’re the expert.”
She scoffed. “You know enough to know it doesn’t taste good.”
He wished he could take back what he’d said. “The thing is, people in Thorndale don’t seem to mind. They love your restaurant because of how you manage it. The folded cloth napkins, the etched glasses, all those things make dining there an experience worth having.”
“We both know you don’t go to a restaurant for the napkins.” She turned and strode quickly toward the path to town, seeming intent on leaving him behind.
Ben easily caught up and walked alongside her. He tried to ignore the sigh of annoyance she let out. “Mary, please forget what I said. The last thing I want to do is hurt you. Ever since I first came to Thorndale and the marshal gave the me the task of watching out for you, I’ve wanted the very best for you. I was only trying to help.”
Mary stopped abruptly and turned to face him. “What do you mean the marshal told you to watch out for me?”
Ben ran his fingers through his hair, wondering if he had somehow once again said the wrong thing. “Your parents, they were worried about you managing the restaurant on your own. They wanted the marshal to make sure you were safe. He gave that job to me.”
“I see,” she said, her voice low and dangerous. “So from the beginning, coming to see me has been a job for you.”
“No! Well, yes, but that doesn’t mean anything.”
“It means everything,” she said, her voice quivering. “Don’t bother stopping in again. I can take care of myself.”
“Mary Appleton,” he said, his voice stern. “You’re being contrary and taking everything I say in the worst possible way.”
She scowled. “Benjamin Gray, how’s this for being contrary? Go find another woman to help. Ask the marshal to assign you to someone else.”
“Now see here—”
“No, I don’t need to hear another one of your lectures.” She grasped her skirts in her hands and ran, leaving him behind in a cloud of dust.
He thought about giving chase, but dismissed the idea. What good would it do to catch her? She was intent on leaving him, and he couldn’t stop her. He walked back to the marshal’s office, trying to make sense of what had just happened. He blamed himself for saying the wrong things, but he blamed Mary too. Hadn’t he proven that she was more than just a job to him? He’d gone out of his way to protect her. And maybe he shouldn’t have said anything about the restaurant’s food, but he had spoken the truth with the best possible intentions.
He was saddened by her last words to him, but what haunted him was the look in her eyes after he’d said her food didn’t taste good. He would have preferred to go his whole life never seeing devastation like that written all over the face of the woman he loved.