The Problem With Jordan
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Authors: Joannie Kay
The Problem with Jordan
By
Joannie Kay
©2015 by Blushing Books® and Joannie Kay
All rights reserved.
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Kay, Joannie
The Problem with Jordan
eBook ISBN: 978-1-62750-972-5
Cover Art by ABCD Graphics & Design
This book is intended for
adults only
. Spanking and other sexual activities represented in this book are fantasies only, intended for adults. Nothing in this book should be interpreted as Blushing Books' or the author's advocating any non-consensual spanking activity or the spanking of minors.
The problem with Jordan was that no one wanted her when her Aunt Hermione died, and Jordan decided she was old enough to fend for herself. The problem with Jordan was that she
could
fend for herself, and there wasn’t one person in Sutter’s Corner who wanted to challenge her. The problem with Jordan was that she wasn’t too finicky or particular as to
how
she fended for herself. If someone came up missing a few eggs, or some corn from the garden, or a ham from the smokehouse, they might grumble a bit, but all in all, folks thought it a small price not to be responsible for the girl who had a mind of her own and the devil’s own temper!
The problem with Jordan was that she’d never ‘fended for herself’ from the newcomer, Cray McCormick. Cray moved west after the Civil War ended, determined to make a new life for himself away from the hatreds on both sides. There was nothing left of his family farm worth saving since soldiers from both sides stayed there and trampled what was once fertile soil, and the house hadn’t been much to begin with. Cray’s brothers both died during the war, and there was no other family; their parents were both orphans with no siblings. Cray sold the place for what little he could get from it and moved west. He liked Sutter’s Corner. But, he didn’t like thieves, and he didn’t like it that his eggs were systematically coming up missing.
Cray got a dog and tied it out by the chicken coop; not where the dog could get to his chickens, but where the animal would be sure to notice the thief and scare him away. He put his pants where he could jump into them at a moment’s notice, and laid his scattergun right beside. He was going to fill someone’s pants full of buckshot.
The problem with Jordan was that she didn’t scare easy. An empty belly held no conscience, at least not in her world. She saw the dog and smiled happily, making friends with the mutt. If she’d wanted, the dog would have helped her steal the eggs. She patted him on the head and then hurried on her way. It was time to fix some breakfast with the eggs she took from the newcomer and the ham that she got from the Miller’s smokehouse.
Cray swore a blue streak when he went outside a bit later to get his eggs. There weren’t any! He looked at the dog, which was wagging his tail excitedly and dancing on the end of his rope, trying to get Cray’s attention. “You welcomed him, didn’t you, dog?” he asked, but he gave the animal a scratch behind his ear before he stomped to the cabin to eat cold beans for breakfast… again.
The problem with Jordan was that she didn’t know when to give up. The next morning she crept up on the newcomer’s house and sat there for a few minutes, watching carefully. The same ole dog was lying there, snoozing. She looked toward the house, and there was no movement going on, and no early morning light shining from the bedroom or kitchen windows. No smoke was coming out the chimney, either, so Jordan felt safe going for her eggs.
Cray grinned in satisfaction as he spotted the young boy moving stealthily toward the chicken coop. He didn’t know why the kid thought it was okay to steal from him, but he was soon going to learn that it wasn’t. He was going to take the kid home to his Pa, and if the Pa didn’t tan him, then he was going to! Cray waited until the boy was inside the hen house, and then he came out of hiding to stand right in front of the door. He watched as the boy put six eggs into his large coat pockets before turning to leave.
The problem with Jordan was that she never considered what she would do if she was caught. The newcomer wasn’t the old man she thought he would be, but instead was much younger, and handsome, too, she decided. Right now she was trapped!
“Boy, what makes you think you got the right to steal my eggs every damn day?” Cray demanded, his hands on his hips as he looked down into the big green eyes gazing at him so solemnly. The kid had freckles, too, and couldn’t be a day over thirteen… if he was that old.
Jordan was relieved to realize the big man thought she was a boy. “I’m hongry,” she replied, trying to sound like Timmy Evans.
“That isn’t a good excuse for breaking the law, boy. If you were older you could go to jail for stealing those eggs.” He waited for the kid to say ‘sorry’ but that didn’t happen. He just continued to stare at Cray. Cray was reaching the end of his patience. “What’s your name, kid?” he demanded.
“Timmy Evans,” she lied smoothly. As he was opening his mouth to say something else, she dived between his open legs and out the door and ran as if her very life depended upon getting away. Jordan decided that she would have to do her ‘fending’ somewhere else for a while even though she sure did like the newcomer’s eggs.
Cray couldn’t believe he’d let the little hellion get away from him, and with his damned eggs, too! He went to the barn, saddled his horse, and rode to town. He asked the first old-timer he came across if he knew where Timmy Evans lived. The kid was going to be in for a rude awakening when he arrived at his house!
Cray knocked loudly on the door, and a few seconds later, an obviously frightened woman answered, three little ones clinging to her skirts, and one in her arms. It was obvious she was expecting another sometime soon. “Ma’am,” he said, tipping his hat as he remembered his manners. “I was told that a Timmy Evans lived here. May I speak to him?” he asked.
She looked at him, startled. “This is Timmy.” She put her hand on the head of the eldest child who couldn’t be over four years old.
“There is obviously some mistake. This isn’t the boy I am looking for,” he admitted.
“I’m truly happy to hear that,” Mrs. Evans said in relief. “I just couldn’t imagine what he’d done… or when he’d done it! I keep a close eye on my children,” she explained.
“I am sure you do, Mrs. Evans. I am sorry for bothering you so early this morning. I guess I need to speak with the sheriff to figure out who is stealing from me, and why they would give Timmy’s name as their own.”
“What’s wrong, Alice?” A man’s voice came from the back of the house, his footsteps echoing as he approached. “Howie said some stranger… Oh!” he said when he spotted Cray. “What can we do for you, sir?”
“It is a mistake, Jim,” Alice spoke up, laying a gentle hand on his arm. “Some boy was stealing from this gentleman, and when he caught him, he gave our Timmy’s name before he ran away.”
“Our Timmy is only four years old, and he’d best not ever think to steal anything from anyone,” Jim said firmly.
“I can see it isn’t your son, Mr. Evans. The boy I met stands about this tall and has bright green eyes.”
“That’s a relief, but I don’t like the idea of him using our Timmy’s name,” Jim declared.
“I’m sure I’ll get it resolved. I just want you to know that as soon as your wife showed me your Timmy, I knew I’d been lied to. This child is sweet as can be,” Cray said, offering one of his rare smiles.
“Most of the time,” Jim agreed. “I need to get on back to work now, and you, Mrs. Evans, lock this door and remember what I told you.”
Cray pretended not to notice the smack the man applied to his wife’s backside, and then he once again apologized and bid them goodbye.
He rode over to the sheriff’s office, but was greeted before he could enter.
“The sheriff ain’t in there, son,” the man said. “He done rode over to Nixon County to fetch home a prisoner.”
“I’m looking for a boy about this high with green eyes. He’s been stealin’ my eggs every morning,” Cray explained, hoping the man might know whom he was talking about.
“That thar sounds like Jordy Smithfield. You’ll be hard pressed to catch that one, son, but you kin try.”
Jordy Smithfield
? Cray rode on back to his place, determined to find out what he could about the Smithfield kid, and when he did get his hands on him, he was going to tan the boy’s hide until he couldn’t sit for a month of Sundays.
Just for the hell of it, Cray decided to see if he could track the boy. He’d spotted him from the edge of the woods, and sure enough, the rain from the night before left tracks that even he could follow, and he followed the boot prints right back to where they originated, to an old, run down cabin. Just as he was contemplating his next move, the kid walked out on the rickety porch, patting his full stomach. Cray’s empty stomach growled, and this time the kid wasn’t going to escape.
The trouble with Jordan was that it would never occur to her that someone like the newcomer could trail her. One minute she was standing on her porch, enjoying her full stomach while trying to decide where tomorrow’s eggs would come from, and in the next, she was hauled off her feet and dropped over a knee with a hard hand landing on the seat of her worn pants.
“Let me go!” Jordan yelled angrily.
“You not only stole from me, kid, you lied about your name and sicced me on a little boy! I don’t like lies or the people who tell them!” He spanked the seat of the tight, worn pants, relishing every grunt of pain that passed from the boy’s lips.
“I’ll have you arrested for this!”
“I’d welcome the chance to explain to your Pa why I blistered you, kid!”
“I don’t have a Pa!”
“That doesn’t give you the right to steal.”
“What would you know? Let me go before I knock your block off!” Jordan screamed at him, and then she tried to bite him!
Cray let out a roar and shoved the kid from his lap. The kid ran for his life, as he well should have. Cray couldn’t believe a boy his age would try to bite him! What was he, half animal? Cray went on home. He had too much work to do to spend the rest of his day foolishly chasing after a kid who was going to end up in jail sooner or later. He threw himself into rebuilding the corral he would need when he started getting more horses to break. It was nearly time for him to think about getting something to eat to fill his empty belly when he saw a procession coming his way from town. “Damn!” he muttered, knowing how dirty he was, and that he didn’t have any decent furniture in the house yet.
What took him by surprise, however, was the fact the sheriff was leading the procession, and the minister and his wife were next, as were several other buggies containing a female or two, and he thought he recognized one man as the mayor.
“Mr. McCormick,” the sheriff said.
“Sheriff.” Cray tried to sound pleasant, but he hated surprises of this sort. “What can I do for you?”
“Son, this is in the nature of a friendly call. Did you have an encounter with Jordy Smithfield this morning?”
“Yes, I did. The hellion has been stealing my eggs every day and I decided it was high time someone taught him a lesson, but the brat tried to bite me and I’ve got the marks to prove it. As tannings go, it was over too darn soon.”
”Mr. McCormick, are you trying to tell us that you put your hand upon Jordan without realizing she is a young woman?” the mayor’s wife asked in obvious disbelief.
“A woman?” Cray repeated. “A
woman
!”
“Yes, young man. Jordan Smithfield is a female, and she bit you because you put your hands on her and frightened her!” the sheriff said with a perfectly straight face.
Cray realized now why the women were all looking at him in arch disapproval. “I had no idea this Jordy is a female. She was wearing pants, a big coat and an old, floppy black hat. The only thing I could see was a pair of big green eyes!”
“Mr. McCormick, around here we don’t condone a man putting a hand to a woman who isn’t his wife or daughter. It just isn’t the thing to do.” This was the minister speaking, but he was doing so in a kindly manner.
“But, you
do
condone stealing a man’s eggs with no retribution?” Cray asked. “Do you condone her giving me little Timmy Evans’ name as her own, and sending me on a wild goose chase to town to find him?”
“No, and we blame ourselves for that,” one of the women said. “When Hermione Smithfield died, none of us wanted to take on the responsibility for Jordan. She’s always been a handful, even when her Pa was still living. She claimed she could ‘fend’ for herself, and since we all knew it was true, we turned our backs and permitted her to get away with stealing a bit here and there to live on, and some of us hired her to help with cleaning, or watching kids, that sort of thing. Today was the first time that anyone dared to punish Jordan, and we suddenly realized that we couldn’t permit this to continue, that she could be seriously harmed. Just think what could have happened if you were a man to use your fists, or your gun?”
“Mr. McCormick, since you admittedly put your hand on Jordan’s posterior, we have decided that you are the one to take responsibility for the girl until she is of legal age, which won’t be for at least another three years. Of course, she can’t live here with you unless you’re married, so there’s goin’ to be a weddin’.” It was a long speech for the taciturn sheriff.
“Oh,
hell
no!” Cray took off his hat and threw it to the ground in disgust. “I ain’t marryin’ no darn girl who deserves to be put in jail!”
“We aren’t asking you, young man, we are insisting,” the mayor stated firmly. “As a father, I must insist that the proprieties are observed. We cannot continue to allow that child to live by herself where some drifter or lowlife could come along and attack her. Or, she might fend for herself in the wrong place and get shot. No, Mr. McCormick, you are the man Jordan needs to straighten her out. You’ve already expressed an ability to do so, which is more than any of us can do.”
