Fenton County Feud

The Fenton County Feud By Sadie Hunter ©2011 by Blushing Books® and Sadie Hunter

Copyright © 2011 by Blushing Books® and Sadie Hunter. All rights reserved. No part of the book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher. Published by Blushing Books®, a subsidiary of ABCD Graphics and Design 977 Seminole Trail #233 Charlottesville, VA 22901 The trademark Blushing Books® is registered in the US Patent and Trademark Office. Hunter, Sadie The Fenton County Feud eBook ISBN: 978-1-60968-521-8

Cover Design: by ABCD Graphics

Blushing Publications thanks you whole-heartedly for your purchase with us! There are plenty more stories such as the one you’ve purchased from Blushing Books! Visit our online store to view our might selection! http://www.blushingbooks.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 advocating any nonconsensual spanking activity or the spanking of minors.

Chapter One

She was caught! Well and truly caught! And there was no escaping or evading the consequences, whatever they might be! MJ tried her best once again to wiggle free, but the boxes had her pinned in a most embarrassing position! “Now what do we have here?” a deep voice MJ recognized only too well spoke from right behind her. “It looks like you are in a predicament.” “Just get me out of here, Oliver Clinton!” “What? And spoil the view?” he asked with a menacing chuckle. “Stop looking at my… my… my sit upon!” It was absolutely mortifying to have her worst enemy standing right behind her looking at her bottom, especially since she was wearing her oldest pair of jeans! They were tight across her backside, and she knew she was giving him a show! “Your sit upon is very nice to look at, especially when you wiggle like that.” “If you were a gentleman, Oliver Clinton, you would help me!” “I thought we established a long time ago that I am not a gentleman, and help you? I find you snooping in my office and I should help you?” His voice was full of the disdain he felt for her. “Office? You call this dilapidated, rundown shed an ‘office’?” She ridiculed him. “I think you should take a lighted match to the place!” “I think I should spank you,” he announced in his deep voice. “You wouldn’t!” Her voice was full of shock and indignation. “I think you know that I would, Martha Jean,” he answered calmly. Oh yes, she knew that he would. Her mind immediately traveled back in time: “I ought to tan your britches, Martha Jean Whitmore!”

“You just try it and I’ll give you what for! And don’t you be calling me Martha Jean. I prefer MJ, if you must talk to me at all!” “Why are you so darn sassy all the time, Martha Jean? I’ve never done anything to you, and you just dumped a shovel full of cow dung inside my new truck. That calls for a spanking, and if it was the other way around you’d be out for blood.” “Humph! You’re a Clinton, through and through! You probably stole the money for that truck!” “I worked summers and weekends for the last three years to be able to afford that truck, Martha Jean, and you are going to clean out that mess you made and then you are going to make sure the truck smells new again, and looks it, too.” “I most certainly will not!” MJ grabbed for her shovel so she could march herself on home, but Oliver was too quick for her. He took advantage of her lowered vision so he could tackle her and bring her to the ground. She landed with an umph, and immediately started to struggle with him, trying to free herself. “Let me go, Oliver Clinton!” she angrily demanded, raising her arm and swinging her balled fist in his direction. Oliver ducked, grabbed for her flailing arm, and pinned it to her back. “Yes, Martha Jean, you need a sound spanking, and then you’ll be happy to clean out my truck,” he predicted. “Never!” she defiantly declared. “You’re a Clinton, and up to no good like your Pa and his Pa and his Pa!” she accused. “At least we aren’t like you Whitmores, thinking you’re better than everyone else, and going around snooping and prying into folks’ business!” Oliver was hot under the collar now and his palm itched to make contact with the feisty redhead’s curvy bottom. “Someone has to keep an eye on you Clintons or you’d rob the county blind!” she said, hurling the words at him like a weapon. “What has my buying a new truck got to do with robbing folks?” he demanded of her, clearly exasperated. “You have to have something to haul your ill-gotten goods in, don’t you? And you got a black truck so it blends in with the night!” she accused, positive she’d scored a point. In the next moment a sharp pain exploded on her right buttock and she yelped. Oliver Clinton struck her!

Before she could wriggle out of his grasp, his hand smacked her left cheek just as hard. “You better stop this, Oliver Clinton, or my Daddy is going to shoot you!” “Then I guess I’d best make sure this spanking is worth getting shot!” he calmly announced. MJ alternately scolded and pleaded with Oliver, but he didn’t release her until she was sobbing from the scorching he gave her poor bottom. It was a terrible spanking and she regretted making the long walk over to his house with her Daddy’s new shovel filled with smelly cow manure. He’d made her clean out his truck, too, and the prank lost every bit of its satisfaction. And now, ten years later, he’d caught her again, and this time she was in a most undignified position. MJ was caught effectively by the boxes that fell on her while she was looking for the information she needed to have Oliver Clinton arrested for whatever it was he was doing wrong. He didn’t come home for no reason; Clintons were as dishonest as the day was long. “Get me out of here, Oliver Clinton!” “Not until you tell me what you are looking for.” “It’s none of your business!” she answered. “You are in my office, snooping through my boxes, and it is none of my business…?!! Maybe the Sheriff will see it differently…?” “You wouldn’t dare call the Sheriff. He’d put you behind bars.” “Put me behind bars? Lady, are you plumb loco? You are the one trespassing, breaking and entering, and snooping through my belongings!” “The Sheriff knows me and he knows that I have the county’s interests at heart. It’s you he’ll be mad at. You’d best let me go now. Get these boxes off of me, Oliver!” Instead of a reply MJ felt a burning smack across her bottom! Oliver Clinton actually struck her backside! “No, Oliver! Don’t you dare! I’m not a little kid anymore, and I was too old for a spanking the last time you accosted me!” “No, you aren’t a kid, and that is why I find this snooping around to be particularly in need of a good spanking. Breaking and entering is against the law, Martha Jean.” He punctuated his words with another solid spank. “If I were to call the Sheriff, you would go to jail. I am of the opinion that this method of punishment will have more of an affect than sitting in a cell until

Daddy bails you out and tells you how innocent you are. And, I’ll find it a lot more satisfying,” he admitted. Again, his large hand spanked her bottom, leaving a scalding handprint on her left cheek. “Stop this immediately! I’m going to have you arrested for assault, Oliver Clinton!” She thought the threat was a good one and would surely bring about her release, but instead it seemed to spur him on. The spanking continued, each smack adding to the inferno that was her bottom cheeks. Once she was in tears and positive she couldn’t take any more, he started spanking her upper thighs! It hurt much more than her bottom, if that was possible. She pleaded with him to stop, but all he did was target the area between her cheeks and her thighs. Her sit spots were always very sensitive, but now they seemed to scream with each successive spank. “Stop, Oliver! I’m begging you… Stop! I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” Oliver heard the remorse in her words and stopped. She’d had enough by now. He carefully lifted the boxes that had her trapped facedown over a couple of other boxes he had stacked. Unpacking was a chore, and it would have to wait until he spent some money fixing up the building that was almost beyond saving. Once the boxes were out of the way he lifted Martha Jean by her tiny waist and put her on her feet in front of him. Once he saw the state of her face, he reached into his pocket and handed her his clean handkerchief. “Wipe your eyes and blow your nose,” he gruffly ordered, telling himself he was not going to feel guilty for giving her a firm lesson. “You are a beast!” she accused, dabbing at her red rimmed, tear filled green eyes. “You are a handful, Martha Jean. You always were, and it is a damn shame that the men in these parts are too scared of you and that Daddy of yours to take you in hand when you get on your high horse. Pull yourself together and I’ll take you home.” “No!” “You are in no shape to walk. You’re too emotional.” “That is your fault!” “No, it is your fault for snooping, and if you haven’t figured that out yet then I didn’t spank you long enough or hard enough.” “Don’t you stay that! I am in terrible pain!” “It’s better than going to jail.”

“How would you know? I ought to call the Sheriff and let him lock you away.” “Now, it would almost be worth getting arrested to see pictures of your bare fanny passed all over the courtroom; I’m sure the jurors would love to see your red bottom.” “What do you mean?” she demanded. “Well, Martha Jean, you must know that your backside would be the only evidence you would have that you were spanked…? They’d have you drop your jeans and panties and take pictures of your bare butt… and of course the lawyers would have copies; so would the judge, and the jury would ask to see them, too.” “Don’t call me Martha Jean! And that is just so… wrong!” MJ burst into tears. “Why are you always so hateful?” she asked, covering her face with her hands. She was embarrassed to death, and in terrible pain! He’d given her the worst spanking of her life. Oliver did what came naturally and pulled her into his arms. MJ resisted a bit, but she needed comforting, even if it was her nemesis offering the comfort. She cried against his shirt, soaking it with her tears. Oliver didn’t mind. Holding Martha Jean in his arms was a fantasy of his, one he indulged in when it was dark out at night and he was all alone and wishing he wasn’t. He’d loved little Martha Jane since they were young kids, but she was a Whitmore and he was a Clinton, and they were expected to hate each other. Both their Pa’s did a good job of filling their heads with the same lies they’d been told when they were just mere boys. Why their grandfathers hated each other so much depended on which side of the story you listened to. Privately, Oliver suspected that there was a woman involved. There usually was… “Don’t cry, Martha Jean. It’s all over now, and I wouldn’t let anyone near you with a camera, even if it meant pleading guilty and going to jail.” “Do you mean that, Oliver?” she asked. “I sure do,” he gallantly professed. “Then you just remember that when the Sheriff comes to haul you in!” she raged, kicking him on the shin, and then taking off for home at a dead run. Oliver jumped on one leg, holding his injured leg in his hand. “You’d better run, Martha Jean!” he yelled after her. “The next time I see you I’m going to wear out my hand on your bare backside!” he promised, nursing his poor leg.

MJ heard the threat and ran even faster. Spanking her again was just the sort of despicable thing that Oliver Clinton would do, too! The next time she would wait until he went away in his fancy car before she searched his office for evidence that he was a criminal. She wasn’t about to allow him to cheat the people around the county of their hard earned money! MJ didn’t stop running until she was safely inside her home. “That you, Marthy?” her Dad called out. He was in his study, working. He was a Fenton County Commissioner as well as a farmer, and there was a lot of paperwork to do for each job. “Yes, Daddy,” she answered breathlessly, leaning against the door. “You look like someone’s been chasing you,” Henry Whitmore stated as he looked at his daughter from the doorway of his home office. “What’s wrong?” “What’s wrong is that Oliver Clinton is back, living on his parents’ farm, and up to no good!” she righteously declared. “That again!” Henry frowned in disapproval. “Honey, you need to stop worrying about that boy.” “Someone needs to worry about him! He’s a Clinton, isn’t he?” “All the more reason to stay away from him. If he’s up to no good, we’ll know about it soon enough.” “He’s up to no good, alright. All I need is proof and I’ll get it.” “You can’t go snooping around the Clinton place, honey. You’ll get yourself in trouble.” Henry had no idea how close he was to the truth. “I want him arrested and put in jail!” Henry took a closer look at his daughter, then asked, “You went over there and got yourself into trouble, didn’t you? What did you do, take another shovel full of cow manure and put it into Clinton’s flashy new car?” he asked. “I think I’ve grown up a bit since I did that, Daddy!” MJ was offended.

“So, what equally mature thing did you do, Marthy, and don’t tell me ‘nothing’. I know you better than that.” “I went looking for proof. Oliver was gone, and I didn’t think he’d be back so soon. I figured the logical place to start was his office. He’s using that beat up old shack on the property for an office,” she explained. He hasn’t unpacked anything, and a bunch of boxes fell on me, trapping me. I couldn’t get free, and he came back and caught me there. Instead of acting like a gentleman and helping me, he was a beast and he…” “Gave you another licking?” Henry asked knowingly. Young Clinton was the one who told him that he’d spanked Martha Jean for putting the manure in his new truck, and asked him point blank if he had a problem with his way of dealing with the incident. Henry told his girl back then that she’d earned what she got and he was tempted to deal her the same. Ten years later, she was still acting like a brat in need of taming, and the one man who just might be her match happened to be a Clinton! His own Pa would be spinning in his grave at the idea of a Whitmore taking up with a Clinton, but Henry’s distrust of the Clinton’s didn’t go as far as Martha Jean’s. His Pa had filled her head with Whitmore/Clinton nonsense since she was born, the same as he did him, and she took it all to heart. “Yes, he did! I want him arrested for assault!” “You want the Sheriff to take pictures of your bare hind?” Henry scoffed. “I’m sure he and all the boys at the courthouse would get a real kick out of that. Besides, you were in the wrong, Marthy. You went where you shouldn’t have been, and you got a licking for it. I’d say you learned a lesson. Oliver Clinton isn’t going to let you terrorize him like the rest of the men around here do.” “That’s not true, Daddy!” she argued, angry with him. “Yes it is. The men you date are wimps.” “In case you didn’t know it, Daddy, ‘Neanderthal’ is out of style these days.” “Respect is never out of style, but I don’t see much of it these days. Men don’t act like men, and women have forgotten how to be ladies. There’s nothing wrong with a man being a man and taking charge of his home. A good man will make sure his lady feels loved, cherished, protected, and he will cater to her wishes as much as he can. That don’t include buying new this and that because the neighbor has it. Young people think that equality is the answer, but that equality is fine in the work place. It don’t work at home.”

“What makes you so sure of that, Daddy?” MJ was as exasperated with her parent as he was with her. He was supposed to be mad as hell and making threats to tear Oliver Clinton apart with his bare hands! Instead, he was acting as though he approved of Oliver spanking her! “The divorce rate.” He was positive he’d settled the matter. “Now you listen to me, young lady,” he said firmly, shaking a finger at her as he always did when he was quite serious. “If you go over to the Clinton place to snoop around again, I’m not going to be happy with you. And, if I have to bail you out of jail for trespassing, or for vandalizing,” he added, remembering the way she treated Oliver’s new truck, “I will forget you are twenty-four years old and considered an adult and turn you over my knee and paddle you. If you think I’m bluffing, you just go right ahead and test me, and you’ll learn that I know right where to lay my hands on that paddle. It might not hang on the wall any more, but it’s right close and handy.” “Daddy, you wouldn’t spank me and you know it!” MJ’s face was beet red as she faced her parent. “Yes, honey, I would,” he said solemnly. “I wouldn’t enjoy it, but I am still your Daddy, and if you need a spanking, you’ll get one you’ll wish you didn’t get, and that is a promise. Now, how about you go and see to fixing us some dinner…? I’m hungry and lunch was forever ago. I’ll give you a hand,” he offered, trying to make peace with his hotheaded daughter. “I can’t believe you are taking a Clinton’s side!” MJ was disappointed that she seemed to be the only one who was concerned about Oliver’s return to Fenton County!

Chapter Two

Oliver’s leg was badly bruised and he couldn’t help but hope Martha Jean’s butt was as sore as his poor leg. That was one redhead with a bad temper, and for the life of him he couldn’t understand why someone didn’t do something about it. Home for one day and he was already taking up with Martha Jean right where he left off! She got under his skin, and now she was at it again, accusing him of stealing, of all things! Didn’t she know what he did for a living? Apparently not. He’d hoped to come home, fix up his childhood home, and have a nice, quiet place to live. With Martha Jean next door, that was going to be impossible. By the time he was ready to go to bed he’d decided that she’d changed her mind about calling the Sheriff and having him arrested. Her Daddy wouldn’t let her spread pictures of her backside all over Fenton County, not with him being a Commissioner and all. Besides, her Daddy was fair-minded enough not to shoot him when he spanked Martha Jean for putting cow dung in his new truck. In fact, he took Oliver’s side and said if she did that, then she deserved a damn good spanking. He probably thought she’d earned one today… if Martha Jean told him. He wouldn’t put it past her to decide to keep it secret. She was even more embarrassed by the spanking today than she was ten years ago! Morning came, and Oliver was up early. He showered, grimacing when he had to duck to get water on his hair and shoulders. The bathroom needed updating in the worst way, but he needed to get his office done first, and once he had the bathroom put in out there, he could put bathrooms in the old house. A half bath downstairs for guests, and one in the hallway upstairs and another off the master. But, first things first. He dressed in a pair of old jeans and a tee shirt, and slipped his feet into comfortable shoes that had seen better days. Breakfast was a granola bar and orange juice… and then he headed for his office. A few minutes later he had a list of supplies he needed for the remodeling job, and jumped into his truck, which he’d left at the farm for his Dad to drive… but his Dad continued to drive his old beat up junker until he died suddenly of a heart attack three years ago. Oliver’s truck was ten years old, but it was well maintained and would last another ten years or so as long as he took care of it. When he got home he couldn’t believe he spotted a glimpse of red sneaking away from his office. He stopped his truck and took off running, determined to catch Martha Jane and give her what for. MJ didn’t think he’d seen her, but she wasn’t taking any chances, and she hurried away… disappointed that she hadn’t had time to do a more complete search. She hadn’t found anything incriminating… yet. She suddenly was aware that someone was chasing her through the woods that connected their properties. She let out a little scream, positive it could only be one man!

Oliver saw Martha Jean ahead of him, and when she heard him, she stiffened for a moment, and then she started running, thinking her Daddy would protect her. He wouldn’t be able to stop Oliver… unless he had a shotgun and used it! Oliver couldn’t believe she was snooping again, and he was furious. The fact that his leg had a large black and blue knot on it was another reason he wanted to catch her. If ever a woman needed a good spanking, it was Martha Jean Whitmore! He ran faster and gained on her. She hurriedly climbed over the fence separating the two properties and then stopped running to turn and look at him triumphantly. Oliver stopped, and stood there looking at her, his hands on his hips. “I would have thought you learned your lesson yesterday, Martha Jean?” “Why, Mr. Clinton, I’m sure I don’t know what you are talking about. I am standing right here on Whitmore property minding my own business.” “Is that so?” He felt as though she was daring him to take her in hand. “Well, I am standing here trying to decide something.” “What is that?” She smirked at him. “Whether to cut a switch and stripe you good, or just use my hand and savor the feel of your skin growing hot to the touch.” He watched her face turn red with anger. “Neither is acceptable, and besides, I am on my own property and you are not welcome here, you Clinton, you!” “You weren’t invited on my property, either, but you sure as sin were here, snooping in my office.” “You can’t prove it!” “I saw you with my own two eyes.” “Well, too bad. I’m home now and there’s nothing you can do about it.” She was smirking again and he’d had just about enough of it. “Now that is where you are wrong, Martha Jean. I’m going to come right over that fence of yours and take you over my knee and give you a right proper spanking. A spanking that is going to make yesterday’s feel like love pats.”

“You wouldn’t dare! You would be trespassing, and Daddy won’t stand for that.” She wasn’t so sure of that since her Dad had threatened to spank her just yesterday, but Oliver Clinton didn’t know that! “You’d just better haul yourself right back to that shack you call an office!” she warned, trying to scare him off. “Not until I haul you over my knee,” Oliver said, taking a determined step toward the fence. He watched as Martha Jean’s green eyes widened in dismay, and then she took off running again. He was over the fence as if it were nothing and he chased after her, enjoying the battle. Women had been running from men throughout the ages and he intended to catch this little redhead. He was a man of his word, and she needed a firm lesson. MJ ran as fast as she could, silently cursing herself for being so foolish as to think he would have enough honor to stop at the property line! If he caught her, he would do precisely as he said, and she wouldn’t be able to stop him. The thought filled her with panic, and all she could think of was reaching her Daddy. He would protect her from Oliver Clinton! Oliver let her run, allowed her to think that she was escaping, and then, when the house and barns were in sight, he gave a burst of speed and caught her to him. She immediately turned into a spitting wildcat, struggling and hissing at him. She was furious, and it only added to the fuel within him. “You are going to get a good spanking, little girl. You might as well settle down and take your medicine.” “You are trespassing and I order you to leave!” “You were trespassing on my property yesterday and again today. I think one trespass deserves another.” “Your reasoning is irrational!” “It is as sound as you thinking I’m hiding something in my office,” he growled, taking a seat on a tree stump. “This looks like a good place.” “No!” She pulled on her wrist, trying to free it from his grasp as he tugged her forward. Her strength was no match for his. He quickly upended her and then started spanking the seat of her jeans! “No, Oliver! Don’t! I’m still sore from yesterday!” she pleaded for mercy. “You sure didn’t behave like you are sore.” He continued to spank her while she kicked her legs in protest.

“I didn’t think you’d catch me again,” she explained, and he had to smile. Sometimes Martha Jean’s logic escaped him. “But, I did catch you, and I haven’t even heard an ‘I’m sorry’ from you. This won’t count as a punishment until you say those words like you mean it, and then you’ll have to accept the spanking I promised you.” “But, you can’t mean that! I’m sore, Clinton! Please stop! Owwww!” She hated herself when she started crying. “You are being a big, mean bully!” “No, I’m a man who is tired of your childish behavior. You are too smart to be acting like such a brat, Martha Jean.” “Don’t call me that, damn it!” she screamed the words at him. “You are the only one who calls me that horrible name!” “Horrible…? You were named for your grandmothers. That makes your name special.” “I hate it, and I hate you!” she shouted, trying to evade the stinging spanks by wiggling her hips as much as possible. “No, you don’t hate me, and that is the problem, honey. You’re attracted to me, but I am a Clinton, and you think you should hate me.” “I’m not attracted to you!” MJ denied. “Owwww! Stop. It really hurts!” “You are going to be very sore if you don’t say ‘sorry’ soon.” “Okay. Sorry!” Oliver ignored her and continued to spank, this time treating her tender sit spots to a hard barrage of spanks. “Not there! Not there! Oliver! Noooo! I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” She started sobbing then. Oliver gave her three more hard spanks and then stood her on her feet. “Martha Jean, now you will prove you are truly sorry by doing as you are told and accepting your punishment.” “You’ve already spanked me!” She looked at him through tear-filled eyes.

“For running from me and for daring me to come on this farm. Now you will be punished for snooping, and you will take down your jeans and panties this time. I promised you a bare bottomed spanking, and that is exactly what you are going to get. One way or another.” When she stood there and shook her head ‘no’ he said, “If I have to take your jeans down, I promise you will wish you’d done it yourself.” “Noooo, please don’t, Oliver! I wouldn’t survive the humiliation. Can’t we just stop now and I promise I won’t sneak over here to snoop again! I’m so sorry for… all of it!” He continued to look at her, frowning. “I guess you aren’t sorry after all.” “Yes, I am!” she argued. “I’m sore, Oliver! Please don’t humiliate me.” “Yesterday I tried showing you kindness, and you kicked me. Do you want to see the bruise I have on my shin?” he demanded. “Now, you stand there telling me you’re sorry…? Excuse me if I don’t believe you. I believe you are in pain. I believe that you are embarrassed and don’t wish to take down your pants, but sorry…? If you were sorry, then you would realize how badly you have behaved, push down your clothing, and then lie over my lap and accept the spanking you obviously came over here to get.” “I didn’t think you would see me, Oliver!” “I did see you, and I’m not about to overlook the fact. Two seconds to decide, Martha Jean. Then I get really firm with you, and I guarantee you will still get the spanking I promised you when you do finally decide to cooperate. You can be stubborn and make it harder on yourself, or admit you were wrong and take your due. Which is it to be?” His dark eyes were full of determination to see the deed done, and to see MJ accept the consequences of her actions. “Why are you being so mean to me?” she whispered. “Because you are worth it, Martha Jean. Because under that prickly exterior there is a sweet woman just dying to come out. Because you need a good spanking in order to forgive yourself for wanting a Clinton, and you do want me, Martha Jean. Just as much as I want you, just as much as I’ve always wanted you.” MJ felt her face drain of color. “That’s not true!” she denied, lying to him. “It is true, and I’ll prove it when the time is right. Time’s up, Martha Jean. Are you a smart woman or a silly little girl?”

“Can’t I just leave my clothes on…? Please? You have no idea how much your hand hurts!” “That isn’t part of the deal, honey. Time is up.” He started to rise just as her hands went to the snap on her jeans. Tears were in her eyes, and her cheeks were a flaming red as she pushed the jeans down. “Panties, too,” he insisted, his voice gruff. “I don’t think I can!” she whispered, sobbing. “It’s just too much, too soon! I’ve never…” She was too embarrassed to continue. “Then come here,” he said, holding out his hand for her to take. She looked at him, her green eyes pleading for mercy, but she put her hand in his, and he was gentle as he pulled her down. “This is for kicking me yesterday,” he announced, and then his hand spanked her hard over her silky blue panties. He could see how red she was, and he knew the lesson was painful and hurting her delicate skin, but she needed the discipline. “I’m sorry! I’m so sorry! Please stop, Oliver! Please…! I didn’t mean to do it. I was just so ashamed that I had to do something!” she explained, crying. “Ashamed of what?” he asked. “I let you hold me… and you are a Clinton!” she explained. “Granddad would have been shocked and disowned me!” She was truly saddened by the thought. Oliver stopped spanking. “Martha Jean, I think that our grandfathers had a problem of some sort; they passed it down to our dads, and neither of us have a clue what the original argument was about. If I am right, it had something to do with a woman they both loved.” “Do you believe it was as simple as that?” she asked, surprised. “Nothing is ever simple when it concerns two men and one woman,” he told her, gently helping her up and sitting her on his lap. “I asked my Dad about it when I was a little kid, and he scratched his head and said he didn’t know what started it. Does your Dad know?” He was curious. “He’s never said, Oliver, but he doesn’t have much use for this feud nonsense.” Her bottom was hurting and burning and sitting on Oliver’s lap did not feel good. She wanted to get up, but she didn’t want to remind him that he was in the middle of spanking her. She prayed he was done, and she promised herself she was done with snooping!

“I think we should ask him, Martha Jean.” Just like that, he’d made a decision to get to the truth of the matter. He wouldn’t have a chance with the young woman until he laid the ghosts to rest, and there was only one way to do that. Confront them head on. He put Martha Jean on her feet. “Pull up your jeans, honey, and we’ll go on and speak with your Dad and pick his brain.” MJ didn’t argue. Pulling up her jeans was exactly what she wanted to do, even when they scraped against her raw skin! She was so sore she wouldn’t be able to sit down if she had to! And, what was her Daddy going to say when she showed up with Oliver? She shuddered to think. Martha Jean wasn’t moving very fast, and she was wincing a lot. Her skin was a lot more delicate than Oliver realized, and he would remember that in the future. He reached out and took her hand. “You are a lot sorer than I meant for you to be, honey. I’m not sorry I spanked you, but I wouldn’t have been quite as harsh if I’d known how delicate your skin is. That is why I didn’t finish what I planned to give you. I am not a cruel man.” He gave her hand a squeeze then added, “However, I wouldn’t do any more snooping, Martha Jean. I’ll forget my principles and give you the hiding of your life if you do.” “You’ve already done that,” she said with a pout. “And, don’t call me Martha Jean! It is MJ!” “You aren’t a man; you are a pretty woman with a pretty name. One given to you with meaning and love. Be proud of it, honey.” “Only a man would say that.” “Oliver isn’t the most popular of names, but it was my Ma’s surname, and she wanted to share it with me.” He said that as if it was the most natural thing in the world, and MJ suspected it was. Oliver Clinton was at ease with himself. “That might be alright for a man, but a woman wants a pretty name, and there isn’t anything pretty about Martha or Jean. I always wanted to be named something exotic.” “Well, maybe Martha Jean isn’t exotic, but it was a gift to you from those who love you most. I’m sure your Dad doesn’t call you MJ…?” “No, he doesn’t,” she admitted. They were almost to the house, and she said, “I’m not sure if we’ll find him home, Oliver. Sometimes he has county business to tend to, or farm errands to run.”

She opened the front door and went inside. The house was too quiet, and she didn’t think he was here. “Daddy? Are you home?” she asked. When there was no answer, she led the way to the kitchen, and the blackboard that hung there on one wall beside the door to the back porch. To her shock there was no note. “Daddy?” she called out again. It was unlike him to leave the house without a note telling her where he was or what he was doing. She walked to his study and looked in, and let out a cry of dismay when she saw him lying slumped over his desk. She went to check for a pulse while Oliver reacted instantly and put a call through to 911.

Chapter Three

“Is he breathing, Martha Jean?” Oliver asked. “Yes. Tell them to hurry! Oh, Daddy, what is wrong? Why wasn’t I here when you needed me?” She started beating herself up. “They are on their way, Martha Jean. Is your dad diabetic?” he asked, noting Henry’s color. “No. But, he feels sick when he has to wait to eat. I’ve been trying to get him to see his doctor, but he keeps finding excuses to put it off.” “No heart problems?” “No. He seemed so healthy…” They made the decision to leave Henry as he was since he seemed in no danger of falling, and since his breathing was regular. The EMT’s arrived and asked all sorts of questions as they monitored Henry’s vital signs. They called it in to a local hospital and were instructed to start an IV. “Don’t you worry, MJ, we’re going to take good care of ole Henry. He’s a good man,” one of the EMT’s spoke reassuringly. He’d graduated with Oliver Clinton, and always thought of MJ as a cute kid. “I’m worried, Bill,” she admitted, and he nodded. “Can you give MJ a ride to the hospital, Oliver?” Bill asked with a frown, obviously surprised to see his old classmate at the Whitmore house. “Of course I will,” Oliver answered. “Is there anything you can tell us, Bill?” “Not without putting my foot in my mouth,” he admitted, and then shrugged. “It looks like a diabetic issue to me. Henry’s heart sounds fine. We’ll know more once we get him transported.” “He is stable?” Oliver asked, keeping his arm around Martha Jean’s slender shoulders.

“He’s stable,” Bill confirmed. “Don’t try to keep up with us, Oliver. Best you drive safe and get there. They won’t know anything right away, and won’t let you in right away, either.” Oliver nodded. “Got your car keys, honey?” he asked Martha Jean. She ran to get her purse and to lock up the house. She wordlessly handed Oliver her car keys and he helped her into the front seat. In all the excitement she’d forgotten about her blazing bottom, but sitting on the hot leather seat brought it back in a big hurry and she cried out in pain. Oliver leaned in and clicked her seat belt in place, holding her firmly against the hot seat! She felt tears sting her eyes and then she was crying… mostly out of worry for her parent, but also because sitting was torture. Oliver tried to get into the car and nearly killed himself when he realized he couldn’t fit! He pulled his leg out, bent down and slid the seat as far back as it would go. “You are a tiny little thing, aren’t you, honey?” he asked softly, starting the car, putting on the seat belt, and then easing down the driveway. He saw her crying and took her hand in his. “He’ll be all right, Martha Jean.” “You spanked me! It hurts too much to sit here!” she whimpered. “A spanking is supposed to hurt,” he gently told her. “Not after!” she exclaimed. “Yes, after, and for a couple of days, if I did it right,” he told her. “Why would you do that, Oliver?” “I already explained why, Martha Jean. I care about you; I always have. I don’t like seeing you behave like an undisciplined brat. You are too special to behave like that.” MJ didn’t know what to think about Oliver’s words. He made it sound like spanking her was an act of loving her, but it sure didn’t feel like love from where she was sitting on her burning butt. She hurt so much it was all she could do to leave the seatbelt in place, holding her down. She needed a distraction. “What do you think is wrong with Daddy?” “I honestly don’t know. I suspect Bill has the right of it, but don’t mention that to anyone, Martha Jean. Bill was talking to us as friends and I wouldn’t want him in trouble for saying it to us.”

“I understand,” she nodded. “He is a good friend, and he does care about Daddy. I was glad he was one of the ones who answered the call.” “Me, too.” He held her hand all the way to the hospital and found a place in the ER parking lot to leave Martha Jean’s car. They hurried inside and gave their names at the desk. MJ was taken into a private area and asked all sorts of information about health history and such, and then she had to give insurance information. Once that was done they were shown back and placed in a more private waiting area while Henry was tended to. Bill came in to sit with them, and he brought each of them a coffee. “We went through this with my Dad a few months ago,” he said. “He’s doing fine now, and I am sure Henry will be okay, too, MJ. I know this waiting is tough, but it’s so they can get him evaluated without tripping over family. They want him to get better, and he is where he needs to be. I know the doctor on duty, and he’s real good. He’s already been in touch with Henry’s doctor… and he’s on his way in, too. Now that is special. Usually they just transfer orders via the phone.” They talked a few more minutes, mostly with Bill and Oliver catching up on each other’s lives, and Bill welcoming him home. The doctor came in then and sat down. “Is it okay to discuss your father’s condition in front of Bill and this young man, Miss Whitmore?” “Yes, of course,” MJ answered. She was nervous as could be, but she paid close attention to what was being said. “We suspect your Dad has been diabetic for some time. Doctor Rayburn said that he hasn’t seen Henry for quite a while…?” “Yes, that’s true. Daddy won’t go to the doctor unless he is half dead with something. I’ve been trying to get him to have a checkup, but he kept putting it off.” The doctor nodded. “I think he’ll be fine. We’ll probably admit him, but we’re waiting on Doctor Rayburn to make the final decision. You can see Henry now.” Oliver took Martha Jane’s hand and walked with her to the little cubicle where her Dad was lying on a cot. “Marthy…” He held out his hand. “I hear I scared you, honey.” “Yes, you did. Oliver helped me call 911 and get you here.” “Thank you,” Henry acknowledged. “I guess they think I have diabetes…?” He looked at her as if trying to see if she knew any more than he did.

“Doctor Rayburn is on his way, and they’ll probably admit you and run some tests.” “That is precisely what we are going to do, MJ,” Doctor Rayburn said as he walked in with his stethoscope in his hand. “Henry, it’s been too long since you’ve been in to see me, and this is what happens. Now breathe for me?” he instructed, listening to Henry’s heart and lungs. “We have the blood work back, and we are going to keep you for a day or two. We need to get your sugar regulated and figure out if pills or insulin will work best, and you also need to sit through some classes on diet and how to manage your diabetes. Henry, I’m not trying to scare you, but if MJ hadn’t found you when she did and brought you in, we would have lost you. This isn’t something you can brush off with your usual disdain for matters of health. I’m sure that MJ isn’t ready to lose you, and neither is this county. Where would we be without your voice of common sense at those council meetings?” “You don’t need to lay it on so thick, Doc. I know when I’ve been a pigheaded fool, and Marthy was right; I should have gone to see you a few months ago when things seemed off.” “That’s what I want to hear. I’ll get your admission set up, and we’ll get this regulated, Henry. Living with diabetes is doable, even if a pain in the ass sometimes. I’ve dealt with it since I was in my thirties. MJ will help you with the cooking part, I’m sure.” “I will,” MJ assured them. “Will Daddy be all right now, Doctor Rayburn?” “As long as he does what he should, honey. I expect you to tattle on him if he doesn’t, and then I’ll kick his butt for you.” He smiled at her, and then looked at Henry. “You scared me, old friend. You scared this child, too. Don’t do it again!” He turned and left the cubicle. Henry chuckled. “I guess I know where I stand.” “He just cares about you, Daddy.” “So, Oliver Clinton… How did you happen to be with my daughter when all this hoopla started?” He was feeling better now; amazing what a shot of insulin could do for the body. “We were on our way to ask you something, but perhaps this isn’t the best time to discuss the matter.” “Why not? They won’t have me moved for a while, and it’ll help pass the time.”

Oliver looked at Martha Jean, wanting her opinion. She said, “Daddy, Oliver and I would like to know what started the feud between the Whitmores and the Clintons.” She looked at him, holding her breath expectantly. “The feud, huh? You two young people planning to keep that silliness going?” “No, sir. We want it to end and figured that if we knew what caused it, we could find a way to put it to rest. Maybe make it right someway.” “I admire that; I really do,” Henry nodded thoughtfully. “The simple truth is that I don’t know what it was about. Pa never said, and my Ma just shook her head sadly when I asked her. What about your Pa, Oliver? He ever say?” “No, sir. I figured it might be over a woman. They would have gone to court over a land dispute… or something that could be settled in that manner.” “Well, it’s obvious they both married lovely women… Marthy, do you know that flowery trunk in the attic, the one that I told you was your grandmother’s...? Why don’t you look in there and see if there is a diary. I thought she kept one, and I believe your sweet Mama packed it with Grandma’s things after she died. That is the only way I know to get your answers, unless your Grandpa kept a journal, Oliver…?” “I’ll look in the attic and see if I can come across anything. I’d really like to settle this matter once and for all.” “You do that, and in the meantime, can you give my Marthy a hand with the chores? She’s not strong enough to handle all those bales of hay, and I don’t want her alone and milking the cows. One of them could kick her, and she’d need help.” “Daddy! I am more than capable of managing on my own!” MJ was embarrassed that he would ask Oliver Clinton for help! And, she was no novice at milking their cows! She’d done it time and time again by herself when Henry was away on county business! What was he thinking? “Maybe you are, but I would feel better knowing that Oliver is looking out for you. If it ain’t no trouble to you, son?” he asked politely. “I’d be happy to help out, sir.” “I prefer Henry over ‘sir’,” he told the younger man. “Now, who is going to tell me how you two come to be together when you found me?”

“Mr. Whitmore, we’re here to move you upstairs to your room.” A pretty young woman unlocked the wheels on his cot, and soon they were traveling down hallways and riding in elevators. Once they were in room 419, the nurse came in and started asking tons of questions. “Hold on a minute, please, nurse.” He turned to Oliver and his daughter. “Why don’t you two kids go on home or to get a bite to eat? It’s past lunchtime and I want you to check on Clara. She’s about to deliver, and I want an eye kept on her.” “I can’t leave you here all alone, Daddy!” MJ immediately argued. “Yes, you can, Martha Jean. They’ve got plans for me all afternoon, right, nurse?” “Yes, you are scheduled for tests, and educational programs; Doctor Rayburn also wants you to learn how to give yourself insulin.” “See, Marthy…? You go on now.” Henry’s voice was firm, and it was obvious he was feeling more like himself. “Okay, then, but I’ll be back tonight.” “That would be nice, honey.” MJ wasn’t pleased to find herself dismissed, but there wasn’t a lot to be done about it. Her Daddy needed the tests done to help Doctor Rayburn treat him, and she knew she couldn’t be with him even if she stayed at the hospital. “Where would you like to go to get something to eat, Martha Jean?” “I just want to go home,” was her abrupt reply. “You need to eat something.” “Stop bossing me around.” Oliver was sure she was simply reacting to the scare she’d had over her Dad. He didn’t argue with her, but drove to a popular restaurant in town; one that served good, homemade food. “I’m sure we can find something in here that we both like, Martha Jean.”

She looked at him in exasperation. “People are going to talk. Your helping me in an emergency is one thing, but taking me out to eat is going to cause all kinds of speculation. I don’t think we need that!” “Oh, I don’t know, small town gossip is the one thing I’ve missed the most!” he said, giving her a teasing grin. “I can live without it.” She did her best not to smile, but finally lost the battle. Their county was famous for everyone’s snooping into each other’s private affairs. “Oh, come on, Miss Whitmore; where is your sense of adventure?” “I can match a Clinton any day of the week!” she told him, accepting the challenge. “Let’s go inside and start a scandal.” Oliver was happy to see her smiling. She really did need a few moments to relax and get her mind off of Henry. The waitress was the same one who’d been serving people for over twenty years. “Well, ain’t this a surprise?” she declared. “I heard about your Daddy, MJ. How is he?” “He seems to be doing all right at the moment, Cindy. Doctor Rayburn is running some tests.” “Not his heart, is it?” Cindy questioned, determined to find out as much as possible. “No, his heart is fine,” MJ politely answered. “Well, let me show you kids to a booth. Oliver, you haven’t been in since we lost your Dad.” “I just moved home, Cindy.” “And about time if you asked me!” “They didn’t ask you, woman!” Geoff, the owner and the cook, came out from behind the counter to glare at her. “They want food, so sit them down,” he ordered and then proceeded to ask, “How’s your Daddy, MJ, honey?” “He’s doing okay,” she replied again, answering the same questions as before.

“Now, can I show them to a booth, you grumpy grouch?” Cindy asked, and MJ looked at Oliver and barely resisted the urge to burst out laughing. The two were famous for their bickering and arguing, and it was rumored that the arguing was a cover up for a love affair that spanned the last twenty years. No one dared ask either of them. Once they were seated, Oliver leaned over to whisper, “Want to make a bet on which of them is brave enough to ask about ‘us’ first?” “I don’t make bets, but if I did, my money would be on Cindy,” she whispered back, grinning. “No, it will be Geoff. He’s back there right now grilling Cindy about us.” “We are certainly drawing some attention,” she replied, looking around the small restaurant, and watching several pairs of eyes dart away. There was a lot of speculating going on behind plastic covered menus, too. She and Oliver would be the subject of dinner conversations in most of the homes in the county. Part of her found it very funny, and another part of her wondered if Oliver was just trying to make sport of her and her feelings. They continued to joke with each other and had to laugh when Cindy finally came to the table and asked, “How did you come to be at the Whitmore’s place when Henry was taken ill, Oliver?” “Actually, I was at the Clinton farm when Daddy got sick.” Oliver didn’t know how Martha Jean managed to look so darn innocent when she said that, but she did. He wanted to laugh. Her sense of humor was as wicked as his, Cindy was speechless as she absorbed that piece of news, her mouth dropping open as she stared at them. “Do you still have that great vegetable soup, Cindy?” Oliver kept a straight face as he asked. Cindy nodded absentmindedly, took out her order pad, and took their orders. Geoff was not satisfied with Cindy’s snooping, so he was next to come and talk to them. This time it was Oliver who gave out just enough information to keep everyone in the dark. The Sheriff was more direct as he came into the restaurant and walked right up to their table as they were eating. “He botherin’ you, MJ, sweetie?”

Chapter Four

“Hello, Sheriff.” She greeted the big man with a genuine smile of delight. Oliver frowned when he realized how young the other man was, and it was obvious that he was enamored of Martha Jean. “I’d like you to meet Oliver Clinton. Oliver, this is Barry Atwater. The county hired him after Sheriff Grayson retired last year.” Oliver got to his feet to shake hands, noting the man was beefier than him, but he was taller by at least four inches. “Good to meet you, Sheriff.” “What is this I hear about Henry, MJ?” The man didn’t bother speaking to Oliver. “Oliver and I found him unconscious at his desk, Barry. Oliver called 911 and helped me get Daddy to the hospital. Doctor Rayburn thinks he has diabetes, but I’m not saying for sure until all the tests come back.” “Good thing you happened to be there when MJ needed help,” Barry spoke to Oliver this time, clearly sizing him up. “I’ll run her on home if you got other things to tend to…?” “I am driving Martha Jean’s car, Sheriff, and she is no bother at all.” Their eyes met and Oliver could see when the other man understood that he was being told to back off. “You let him call you by your real name, MJ?” Barry asked with a look of amazement. “He thinks my name is pretty,” she said softly, and Oliver was positive that no one had ever told her that before. “Well, if you need anything, MJ, anything at all, you call me and I’ll come.” “She’ll be fine, Sheriff,” Oliver said quietly. He almost hated to see the flash of pain in the other man’s eyes, but Martha Jean belonged to him; she always had and always would. Oliver went with Martha Jean to check on Clara, and the cow simply looked at them as if wondering what they wanted. “She’s not due for another two weeks, but Daddy worries about each and every one of these cows.” “He’s a good farmer and dairyman.”

“Yes, he is,” MJ agreed. She made sure that all the chores were caught up, and of course, they were. Her Dad didn’t get sick until his morning work was finished. She’d milk and feed again that evening before she went to see him at the hospital. “Would you like to give me a ride home, Martha Jean? I have a truck that needs unloading. I’ve left a lot of weight on those tires.” “Oh, sure!” she replied. As they approached his farm, she was reminded of the last time she was here, and the spanking he’d given her. It made her blush, and she simply had to squirm on the leather car seat. Her bottom was so tender it was unbelievable, and MJ knew she would avoid another spanking for the rest of her life if she could. “Martha Jean, I don’t know what was between our Grandfathers, but I hope you know that I’m an honest man, trying to make an honest living. I don’t have any diabolical reason for returning home, except that I missed this place… and I couldn’t forget you. I had to see if there was any chance you could feel the same way. I knew you weren’t married, and weren’t dating anyone in particular. Is it possible you feel the same way?” he asked of her. “I just know that when I heard you were coming back I’ve been nervous as can be, and hearing and rehearing all of Granddad’s old stories about the Clintons convinced me you were up to no good. I was awful, wasn’t I?” she whispered, upset with herself. “I’m truly sorry, Oliver, for all the snooping I did.” “You paid for it, Martha Jean, and we’re square. Come on inside and I’ll give you a tour and tell you my plans.” He was aware that she hadn’t answered his question, but she hadn’t denied having feelings, either. Oliver decided he could be very patient. MJ followed him inside the office she’d gone through that very same morning, which now seemed so long ago, and listened as he outlined his plans to make it very, very nice. “You are actually going to stay here full time?” she questioned. “I’ve had enough of the city,” he said with a grin. “I couldn’t wait to leave here, and I couldn’t wait to come home. Pa told me I wouldn’t be happy in all that concrete, and he was right. I feel like I can breathe here.” “Yes, I know what you mean. I hated being away at college. I wasn’t exactly homesick, but I just wanted to finish school and come right back here. Daddy was pleased about that, especially when Mama had cancer and needed so much help.” “It had to be hard on you,” he said with sympathy.

“It was difficult, but it was hardest on Daddy. He loved her so very much.” “Pa felt the same way about Ma. Losing her was hard, especially when the two of us had to do our own cooking, cleaning, and laundry. I’m not joking about that; neither of us knew how spoiled we were until we lost her, and then we felt a lot of shame for not telling her how much we appreciated those mundane things she did each and every day without complaining.” “Oh, I am sure she knew. Moms have a way of knowing those little things.” It was her turn to offer sympathy and comfort. Oliver took her up to the old house. “This house needs a lot of remodeling, and it will be nice when it is all done,” he allowed. He proceeded to walk her through, making sure she understood his plans for the bathrooms and kitchen. “I offered to fix this up before Pa passed on, but he said he was used to it and he’d get lost going to the bathroom at night if I moved it someplace else.” “That sounds like something Daddy would say!” She giggled. Oliver was pleased when Martha Jean helped him unload his truck, and she stayed and gave him a hand as they worked for a couple of hours before they returned to the farm and milked the cows and took care of all the other livestock, too. He also drove her into town to see how her father was doing and found him in a grumpy mood. “They want me to lose thirty pounds! And, they are telling me I can’t eat pie!” “They are trying to help you be healthy, Daddy,” she said soothingly. “I am sure I will be able to make you some good desserts without them being full of sugar.” “They want me to cut down on red meat. Hell, I’m a farmer! I raise meat.” “I know you do.” “How is Clara?” “She’s fine. No sign of labor.” He asked about all the other animals, and quizzed her on milking procedures, and the amounts of grain she was feeding all of them. He even asked about the chickens, which were her responsibility, and Oliver looked at her and winked.

“Daddy, it’s not like I’ve been away for four years and just home. I help you with the milking each and every morning and evening!” “Yeah, you do. I’m just used to being there, honey, and tending to everything myself. I know you’re capable. I just want to do it myself.” He humphed again. “Thirty pounds! A man can’t live on carrots and celery and salad!” “A man can’t live and be well and healthy if he doesn’t do what the Doctor tells him to do,” MJ promptly argued. “Daddy, I think you’ll be surprised at how much you can eat and still be satisfied. Don’t be so negative. As hard as you work, you’ll lose the weight. You just need to give up all that soda you drink.” “They told me that, too,” he said with a frown. “Good for them.” MJ refused to give him any sympathy. She knew she couldn’t afford to do that if she wanted him to follow his new diet restrictions. “I’m not like you, Marthy; I don’t like that bottled water you’re always buying and drinking.” “You keep telling me the well water is better, so you’ll get to prove it to me,” she teased him, and he had to chuckle. “You can still have coffee, can’t you?” He nodded. “That’s one thing they aren’t getting from me.” “I know you can still have fruit for breakfast. You like your grapefruit. And, I’m sure you can have oatmeal, too.” “Yeah, I suppose so. I have to cut back on potatoes.” “Okay, that is doable. We’ll figure it all out, Daddy. Will we be able to talk to someone and get some ideas?” “They want us to sit down with a dietician and talk about this,” he sheepishly admitted. “I told them you would want to be here since you do the cooking.” “That’s right!” she nodded. “I’m going to do my part to take good care of you, Daddy. I never ever want to be so scared again as I was when we found you lying over your desk. You have no idea how badly you scared me. And, what if you’d been driving at the time? I’m going to have nightmares, and you will be here and not hear me screaming my head off!” She made a funny face and had him chuckling in appreciation.

“I should have done what you asked and gone to see Doc. I kept putting it off until things got bad. Now it is going to take some doing to get it all righted. My numbers weren’t so good,” he admitted, scowling. “They will get better, Daddy.” “Sorry to ignore you, Oliver. Marthy talks too much,” he said, winking and grinning to show he wasn’t serious. “She sure does,” Oliver agreed, and then laughed when she turned her green eyes on him. “She set the town on its ears today,” he explained, and then confided the details of their lunch at the Café. MJ was all set to be insulted until she saw how amused her Dad was by the story that was exaggerated out of proportion. Henry was slapping his leg, laughing, and had tears rolling down his face by the time Oliver was through lying. “Son, I can sure tell you are a storyteller right enough. What a yarn! If I didn’t know Marthy so well, I might of fell for it hook, line, and sinker!” They continued to visit until the hospital’s loudspeaker declared visiting hours over and asked that all visitors please leave quietly. “Every time I hear that nasal voice asking me to leave quietly, I want to go into the hallway and dance and sing loudly all the way to the elevator!” MJ admitted. Henry chuckled, and said goodbye to them both, watching after them as they left his room. Tears filled his eyes and he made a promise to himself that he was going to do what he had to do to get out of the hospital and walk his daughter down the aisle. His Marthy didn’t know it yet, but she was with the man who was her match, and a Clinton to boot. His Pa was probably turning in his grave, but it was time to put the past grievances away. He didn’t want Marthy’s chance at happiness ruined by a feud that was none of her doing. “Mr. Whitmore, we’re here to draw more blood?” a young girl announced from just inside the doorway. “Now why do you girls do that?” he demanded, only half teasing. “Do what, sir?” she asked, her eyes wide. “Well, you girls always say ‘we are here to draw blood’. As far as I can see, there is only one of you…?”

She giggled and then asked him to say his name and birthdate before she continued. Henry was still left puzzling the answer to his question after she drew his blood and left the room. ********************* MJ found the trunk her Daddy described to her hiding out in the attic, just where he said it would be. She slowly opened it, not knowing what she would find inside. Her Mama packed all her grandmother’s belongings inside the large trunk many years ago when Grandma died suddenly. MJ felt a bit strange as she snooped through the things in the trunk, and just when she was about to give up the search as a lost cause, she found two books. One was a leather bound Bible, and it was full of little notes, and reasons to pray for individuals that MJ suspected were long gone. The other was a journal. MJ was excited as she repacked the trunk, putting away all of the things she’d taken out while looking for a diary or journal. Once she was finished, MJ picked up the journal, shut off the attic light, and carefully made her way down the ladder steps. She decided to put on her nightgown and robe, fix herself a cup of tea, and then curl up in the rocking chair she claimed as hers to read the book. MJ was excited that she might learn more about the woman who didn’t live to a very old age. Why, her Daddy was already fifteen years older than his mother was when she died! And he was far from being old himself! MJ made her tea and carried it into the living room and put the mug on the table beside her rocking chair. She grabbed a throw and covered up, and then picked up the diary and opened it to the first page. She was shocked at how old it was, and she did some quick figuring in her head and realized that her grandmother would be eighty-six if she were alive. The first entry went back nearly seventy years! Mama slipped me a bit of money today and told me to buy something for myself. What a treat; I rarely am allowed to buy something of my choice, but times are hard, and no one is allowed to spend frivolously. Mama thought a journal a great idea, and she persuaded Papa that it should be permitted. The idea that I may write about anything I choose is a bit overwhelming, but I am sure I will know what to write about.

I was so embarrassed this afternoon. I went with Mama to take eggs to the store, and Lester Whitmore came inside, swaggering as usual! He bumped into me and said, “Oops, sorry, little girl!” I was immediately angry and started to give him a piece of my mind. He just laughed. I wanted to cry. I am certainly not a “little girl”!

Amos Clinton came to see Papa about butchering. Papa said he could use his help in exchange for some meat. Amos thanked Papa, and promised he would arrive early this Saturday. Amos winked at me!

The day was ruined! Amos was here, of course, and out of the blue, Lester Whitmore showed up. It is common knowledge that those two boys do not like each other. Papa was oblivious to the tension, and kept everyone busy with the butchering. We took a short break at noon to eat lunch and the boys took to arguing over whether or not I should cut my hair. Lester Whitmore made the most outlandish comment about my long hair being beautiful and that he’d spank me if I cut it off! Amos Clinton told him he didn’t have the right to threaten me in that fashion, and Lester said it wasn’t a threat, but a promise! I shall cut off all my hair the first chance I get!

The telephone rang and MJ answered immediately, hoping that it wasn’t the hospital calling with terrible news. Her father wouldn’t pay extra for Caller ID. He said a person could find out who was on the other end of the line just by answering the darn phone. “Hello, Martha Jean.” She was relieved to hear Oliver’s deep voice on the other end of the line. “Hi, Oliver. Why are you still up?” she asked, smiling. “I was thinking of you, pretty lady. I wanted to be sure you were all right.” “I am fine. I went up into the attic earlier and looked through my grandmother’s trunk and found a journal of hers.” “And you are reading it without me?” He sounded disappointed. “She was my Grandmother!” “Have you learned anything about the feud?” “I think so, but need to read further before I can swear to it. It seems it might have started over her. Both your grandfather and mine were interested in her, and we already know she chose my grandfather to marry.” “I always thought a woman was involved,” he said softly, chuckling before he turned serious, “Do you feel safe over there, or do you want company?”

MJ immediately bristled, but before she could say anything he continued, “I’m not inviting myself into your bed, Martha Jean. I just thought you might be uneasy with so many people knowing you are there all alone.” “I was fine until you added that last part.” “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you.” They talked a bit longer before she suddenly cut him off. “Oliver, I think I hear something out in the barn. I need to go and check.” “Don’t you dare do that, Martha Jean. Do you have the doors locked?” Oliver demanded, pulling his jeans on over his briefs. “You stay inside and I will be right there. Do you hear me?” “Yes, but…” The phone line suddenly went dead, and MJ knew it wasn’t an accident. Someone or several someone’s were out there, probably looking for something to steal in the barn. Her Daddy had thousands of dollars invested in his milking system, and she wasn’t about to allow someone to think they could help themselves just because he was flat on his back in the hospital.

Chapter Five

Oliver tried Martha Jean’s cell phone number, but it went directlty to voice mail. He was in his truck and barreling down the short stretch of road that separated the two farms as quickly as he could without killing himself in the process. He saw the bright lights come on in the barn and pushed down harder on the accelerator. He knew Martha Jean was in trouble and his only thought was to get there in time to keep her from being harmed in any way. Gravel flew as he made a harrowing turn into the Whitmore’s driveway, and continued to fly as he sped down the driveway. He reached the barn, threw the truck into ‘park’ just as he spotted Martha Jean leaving the barn. She had two boys in front of her and they looked frightened. Oliver raced over to her. “Martha Jean, are you alright?” he demanded. “Just fine and dandy, Oliver. These two thought they would come out here and see if there were any copper lines out here they could cut away and sell for drug money. It seems the rumor is that I am sleeping at your place these days.” “I think I would have known about it if that were the case,” he said levelly, trying to keep his temper at bay. “I called Barry and he is on his way.” “Good.” Oliver’s patience was stretched thin. The last person he wanted to see again was Barry Atwater. “Couldn’t you give us a break, lady?” one of the boys pleaded with her. “You don’t know my Dad. He’s going to be so pissed it won’t be funny.” “I hope he takes his belt to your ass,” Oliver stated succinctly. “That is what the both of you need, a good tanning and some old-fashioned discipline.” “Yeah, right. Screw you, old man.” Oliver looked at him and said, “Boy, you aren’t in any position to mouth off. Just thank your lucky stars you didn’t hurt this lady,” he said meaningfully. He could hear the Sheriff coming now, although the siren seemed miles away.

“Please, can’t we go? We didn’t take nothing?” “Only because I heard you and caught you before you could,” MJ stated without sympathy. “I think that by turning you in it just might scare off anyone else who thinks they can come out here and commit theft just because Daddy is in the hospital!” She was furious and it showed. The Sheriff’s car slid on the gravel because he was going too fast to make the turn into the driveway, but he finally reached the house and seemed disappointed to see Oliver standing beside MJ. “MJ, are you all right?” he asked, glaring at Oliver. “Yes. These two boys were in the milking parlor, looking for copper lines to steal for money to buy drugs. They didn’t think anyone would be here,” she added. “This true, you two?” the Sheriff asked, clear disapproval on his face. “We didn’t take nothing,” the first boy insisted, and the second was sullenly quiet. “You were caught red-handed. If nothing else we can file criminal trespass charges.” Barry looked at MJ. “What should I do with them?” “Take them home to their parents and make it clear that I am being generous this time. If I was someone to go off half-cocked, I could have shot them.” “What a crock!” the second kid scoffed. “You don’t even have a gun, lady!” “Want to bet?” MJ asked softly, meaningfully patting the pocket of her bathrobe. “Yeah, right!” The boy rolled his eyes and they filled with belligerence. MJ looked at him, then took out her gun, pointed it upward, and fired. The cocky look left the kid’s face. “You boys better go home and thank your lucky stars I’m not the type to shoot first and ask questions later.” “I hope you have a permit and a license to carry a concealed weapon, MJ?” Barry asked, his own eyes wide. MJ looked at him in disgust. “Would I be stupid enough to show you the gun if I didn’t, Barry?”

Oliver almost laughed out loud at the look of disgust Martha Jean leveled on the Sheriff. The other man put the two boys in the back of his patrol car and then said goodbye to them before leaving, a lot slower than he arrived. “That is that,” MJ said aloud. “Would you like a cup of tea, Oliver?” she asked, looking up at him. Oliver felt his outrage at her behavior boil over. “A cup of tea…? Martha Jean, I’m going to blister your sweet butt. How dare you come outside to investigate by yourself? What if those kids would have turned violent on you? I know damn well you wouldn’t have been able to bring yourself to actually shoot them!” “I would defend myself if I had to,” she stated, turning up her chin to look at him stubbornly, “Against two kids?” “Even then,” she insisted. “That tears it,” he muttered. He reached out and took the gun from her hands, then grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her along and into the house. “You can just let go, you Clinton, you!” “Not likely,” he snorted. “I told you to stay inside and make sure the doors were locked, didn’t I? I told you I would be right here, didn’t I? But, Miss “I do as I please” Whitmore had to prove she was in charge, didn’t you? Now is when I show you how I feel about that misguided decision.” He sat down on the coffee table and then hauled her over his knee. “Don’t you dare spank me!” MJ yelled at Oliver. “I mean it, Oliver Clinton! I will not be manhandled.” Her words fell on deaf ears and in the next moment her robe and gown were shoved up to bare her bottom and Oliver started spanking her still tender butt. “No! Stop! I am still sore, Oliver! Stop, please!” “If your Daddy was here he’d tell me to do a good job of it, little girl. Should we call him and ask?” Oliver scolded. “No! I don’t want him upset!” she pleaded. “I’m sorry, Oliver. I should have waited, but… I was afraid they were here to start a fire… and… Owwwwww!”

“You went out there expecting a fire? Good God, Martha Jean!” He put some strength behind the spanks he was giving her, and made sure her upper thighs and sit spots were reddened as well as her curvy cheeks. “Who would fire your barn?” he demanded, shocked in spite of himself as he righted her and sat her on his lap. “Daddy is a Commissioner. He makes enemies with some of the decisions he makes,” she sobbed out her answer. “Okay. Okay. Now, don’t cry, Martha Jean. I’m here now and I won’t let anyone harm you, the cows, or the barn. I had no idea you were so frightened!” he exclaimed, holding her shaking body on his lap as he offered comfort. “You are safe now.” He did his very best to offer comfort, mentally kicking himself for not realizing earlier how frightened she would be all alone on the large farm. He should have insisted that he stay the night in a guestroom. “I’m sorry, Martha Jean,” he whispered into her hair. “I am so sorry.” “You should be sorry; I’m really sore, Oliver!” she complained. “I’m not sorry for spanking you, little girl. I’m sorry I didn’t realize how afraid you would be, or that someone would think they could come here to even a grudge since your Daddy is in the hospital. I wouldn’t have left you here and gone home to my place.” “I wasn’t afraid, Oliver. At least not until I heard the barn door open. Then I worried about the animals. I do know how to use my gun. Daddy taught me to shoot years ago, and I’ve taken classes, too. I go to the shooting range every so often just to keep in shape,” she added. “That is good to know,” he said quietly. He spotted a leather bound book on the table beside the rocking chair. “Is that the journal?” he asked. “Yes,” she answered. “Let’s read some of it before we call it a night.” “You don’t have to stay. I’ll be fine.” “I’m staying,” he said firmly. “I’d rather people think we are sleeping together than have you staying awake all night wondering if someone is going to come here and harm you. Besides, your Dad would expect me to be a man and protect his little girl.” The way he said the last made MJ smile. She knew that Oliver was right. When her Dad learned about those two boys he would be livid, and then relieved that Oliver insisted on being with her.

She finally nodded and said, “My grandmother is quite a character. I believe you will like her. She isn’t dating either man at the moment,” she explained as she got up off Oliver’s lap and walked over to the rocking chair to pick up the journal. Oliver moved to the sofa and patted the cushion right beside him. MJ carefully sat beside him and tried to get comfortable so she could continue reading. “I am really sore!” she complained, pouting as she looked up at him. “Good.” He gave her no sympathy at all. “Disobey me again over something of this sort and I will take off my belt and give you a few licks with it on top of the spanking you get.” “You wouldn’t dare!” MJ was instantly angry. “Do you want me to prove it here and now?” Oliver asked, giving her a chance to back down. MJ looked into his dark eyes and decided that her pride would be devastated if he did that. “No, I don’t want you to prove it. I didn’t want you to spank me, period.” “Okay, I won’t spank you, Martha Jean… Just as long as you behave yourself and don’t earn a spanking.” She wanted to smack him, but arguing with Oliver in his present mood wasn’t a good idea. She decided to start reading the journal and hopefully get his mind off of her poor stinging bottom. Oliver listened intently as Martha Jane started at the beginning and read to him, her voice music to his ears. He kept his arm around her protectively, holding her close to him. Oliver couldn’t believe that he’d never realized just how precious she was to him until he moved home. She was full of spunk, and she was beautiful. He loved her and if he was right, she loved him, too. Her grandmother was a feisty lady and he chuckled at her comments. “This is as far as I got before you called, Oliver.” “I’m betting she cut off her hair and your grandfather spanked her bottom for it. What do you think?” “Do you honestly think a man would spank a grown woman for that sort of thing?” She looked at Oliver in disbelief. “Maybe not in today’s world, but back then… I’d bet on it, and I would bet that your feisty Grandma cuts her hair just to see what he will do.”

“Oh, don’t be silly, Oliver.” MJ wasn’t going to give the man the satisfaction of arguing with him. He would feel foolish enough when nothing of the sort happened. She continued reading.

Papa was not pleased with my new haircut but Mama thinks I look stylish. Myrtle showed me how to wave my hair, and I think I look more grown up without the long hair.

That Lester Whitmore! He is such a beast! Ohhhh! I am SO angry! He spanked me! He actually spanked me and my poor bottom is burning! I told Papa what Lester did, thinking he would give Lester what for, and Papa said, “The boy has good sense. That haircut don’t look right, girl. Now you start out letting your hair grow again.” It’s my hair; why should I let it grow?

Oliver chuckled. “They sound a bit like us, don’t they?” “We still haven’t heard about the feud, Oliver. There could be more.” “Read on, Martha Jean.”

Amos Clinton dropped by and asked me to go for a walk. I accepted. We talked of many things. Lester was there when we got back and he asked Amos what he thought he was doing. Amos said he was courting me. Lester told him that I was his girl, and he should stay away. Amos said that he wasn’t going to stop seeing me, and the two of them started fighting. Papa had to break it up. He sent both of them home and then told me I’d best be making up my mind and not encouraging the both of them! I told him I didn’t know either of them were courting me, and he looked at Mama and said, “You talk to the girl, Bess. I won’t be having this any longer.” I looked at Mama and she asked me to come on up to our sewing room so we could have a talk. I had no idea that both Amos and Lester were courting me. Now I have to decide which one I want to get serious about. There are things I like about both of them. They are good men. Life would be very peaceful with Amos, but Lester makes me feel emotions. When he tells me that he likes my hair long I know he means it, that he finds me pretty. Amos never pays me compliments, but he would never spank me, either. Papa told me again that I have to decide before those two come to blows again.

I chose Lester. He makes me laugh, he makes me cry, he makes me angry. He is the one I watch for all the time. He makes my heart sing. It was hard to tell Amos that I was in love with Lester,

but it is the truth. Amos swore and then left. I didn’t know that Papa was right behind the door, ready to come out and protect me if Amos got mad at me. He came outside and said I did just fine. He also said that he thought Lester would make me a fine husband.

I haven’t written in here for such a long time, but I have wonderful news to share. Lester told me that my hair was long enough now for him to propose to me. He was teasing, of course. I said yes, and we are officially engaged, and will be married next spring. Mama is going to help me make my dress. Amos Clinton didn’t take the news well. He caught me alone and asked me why I would marry a Whitmore instead of a Clinton. Lester came running and told Amos he wasn’t welcome on Whitmore land. Amos told Lester that as far as he was concerned, I’d made my bed and was dead to him. Lester didn’t like his wording and flew at him. By the time I got Papa to come and break it up, both men were bloody and I was terrified that Lester was badly hurt. Thankfully he wasn’t. We will avoid Amos from now on.

Our shed burned down today. Lester says the fire was set, and he blames Amos Clinton. The Sheriff went to Amos and talked to him, and he denied it. The two men will never be friends now.

“Oh my. I wonder if Amos did set the fire…?” MJ wondered aloud. “I doubt it, Martha Jean. I heard about the fire, but when it happened, Granddad was at my Grandmother’s home, courting her. Her entire family was his alibi.” “That is good to know,” Martha Jean said with a heartfelt smile. “I think it is time for a Clinton to come courting a Whitmore and put an end to this ridiculous feud. What do you think, Martha Jean?” “I think I agree with you, Oliver.” When his lips met hers she melted against him and felt as though she was home and safe.

Epilogue

Henry smiled proudly as he walked his Marthy down the aisle. The church was packed full of folks and the only thing he regretted was that her Mama couldn’t be here to see how beautiful their little girl was today. Oliver Clinton was standing in front of the church, his dark eyes full of love as he looked at his bride… Just as it should be. Whatever was in the past should stay in the past, including that stupid feud. Henry proudly put his daughter’s hand into Oliver’s and said, “You be good to her, son.” “I promise with all my heart, sir.” Oliver meant the words. He looked at the beautiful woman standing beside him and said, “You are beautiful, Martha Jean Whitmore. I love that you let your hair grow for me. You are an absolute vision.” “I love you, Oliver Clinton.” The minister smiled at both of them and said, “I can see by the looks on everyone’s faces that this wedding is full of joy, and it pleases me very much.” The wedding ceremony didn’t take long, and the minister soon pronounced them husband and wife and introduced them to the assembly as Mr. and Mrs. Oliver Clinton. If anyone was shocked by the traditional vows, including the promise to ‘obey’, they didn’t say a word. It was obvious to one and all that both Oliver and Martha Jean were in love, and they were witnessing the end of the battle between the Clinton and the Whitmore families. Oliver and Martha Jean enjoyed their reception, but were even happier when they were finally alone. Once they were inside the privacy of their brand new bedroom inside the Clinton home MJ reached back to tenderly rub her aching bottom. “Still sore, Mrs. Clinton?” Oliver asked with a gentle smile. “Yes! Oh, Oliver! Do you have any idea how difficult it was to sit through the dinner tonight?” she asked, pouting. “You did well, and that little spanking took care of all the stress that was making you crazy. You enjoyed the wedding, didn’t you, once you stopped worrying about every little detail that could go wrong…?” “I did enjoy myself… tremendously… except when I tried to sit down. You were a bit too firm with that spanking, husband mine.” “I’ve been looking forward to kissing it all better ever since you walked down the aisle this afternoon,” he smiled teasingly, pulling her into his arms. “Besides, I think it is our duty to put an official end to the Fenton County Feud.

The End.