Chapter Nineteen
The Old Barn
Watching the children eat a carrot with such reverence and gratitude pulled at my heartstrings.
“You got any more?” I whispered to Trick. “They’re plumb starved.”
“I only brought the one.”
Oscar must have heard us or figured out what we were talking about. He opened the flap on Onyx’s saddle bag.
“I got some bread and cheese,” he said.
I nodded. “They’ll want that, too, I reckon.”
So we had a little picnic with the children out there on the sun-warmed grass, while Miss June spoke to Cal in the little house.
When they’d eaten all their shrunken stomachs could handle, Oscar and Trick took turns leading the horses around the field with Peter and Lizzie enthusiastically astride, while I took Samuel with me to look at the barn.
He came with me all right, until we got close and he realized where we were going. Then he screamed and pulled against my hold. It startled me, but I didn’t let go, because the last thing I needed was for Cal’s youngest to be running loose when she’d trusted him into our care.
“What’s wrong, Sam? You don’t wanna go to the barn?”
He screamed again, his cheeks red and his eyes wild, and I had to hold his arm real tight. I worried I was hurting him. I glanced to the others and saw Peter slide down from Onyx’s back with Oscar’s help and start running o’er to us, a stricken look on his face.
“Don’t take him in there!” Peter yelled.
I blinked in confusion at the older child as he reached us and scooped Samuel into his arms, gazing at me like I should have known better.
“He don’t like it. None of us do.”
I peered at the seemingly innocent structure, made of rough wood and nails.
“Why?”
Peter regarded me for a long moment. He looked toward the house, then frowned at the ground, his face going red. I couldn’t tell if ’twas shame or anger.
“Momma don’t want us to tell.”
Peter’s voice was so low I barely made out the words. Oscar and Trick had approached with Lizzie, who ran toward Peter and threw herself into her brother’s arms. The older child held her as she started to hiccup with silent tears.
Oscar and Trick and I gazed at each other with looks of puzzlement.
“What’s all this about?” Oscar asked, watching the children and raising his eyebrows at me.
I shrugged. “I don’t know. But they sure don’t wanna go in there.” I crouched down to get to Peter’s eye level. “Peter,” I said in an even, neutral tone, “is it all right if Oscar and I go into the barn?”
Peter stared at me with a serious expression, then nodded once.
I glanced at Trick. “Stay with them.”
“Sure,” she said, frowning.
Whatever was in the barn, or whatever had happened in there, had traumatized these children. Had their daddy beat them in there? Didn’t seem like that would have made them react the way they had, but I supposed ’twas possible. Maybe ’twas best he’d gone, if that was the case.
“Come on,” I said to Oscar, who seemed hesitant. “Let’s have a look.”
He glared at the barn, then looked at me, and I thought he might be sick.
“I—” he said.
“Here, you stay with the kids,” Trick said, moving forward and joining me in front of the barn door. “I’ll go with Jimmy.”
Oscar nodded with relief. “Okay.”
He stepped back to stand beside Peter and Lizzie. Peter was still holding little Sam, and Lizzie was plastered to Peter’s side, an expression of pure terror on her face.
I reached for the handle of the door, and Sam started wailing again, as if I was about to release the devil or some such thing.
“’Tis all right,” Peter shushed him. “We ain’t goin’ in there. They are…for a minute.”
That made me feel better, as Peter didn’t seem worried about us going in the barn. There likely wasn’t anything out of the ordinary inside it. But something had happened there—something that they didn’t want to tell us. Or that Cal didn’t want us to know.
I tugged the door open a bit and peered inside, in case there was a dead hog or something. But the kids would have told us if ’twas something so ordinary. And we’d have smelled it.
Sunbeams slipped between the rafters through the unsound roof of the outbuilding, making dust motes in the air. There was straw on the floor that looked pretty fresh, even though Cal had said they didn’t use the barn. Trick and I looked around at the ramshackle walls then meet each other’s gaze.
Trick shrugged.
“Looks like a plain old barn to me.”
“Yep,” I agreed. I gazed at the open door behind us, then back at her. “But there’s a story here of some kind.”
“Sure enough,” she said. “I suppose we’ll have to ask Cal about it, though she might not tell us.”
I nodded. “Not today. Let’s see what Miss June finds out first.”
“All right.”
We went back out into the bright daylight and smiled at the children, who still seemed unsettled.
“What a boring old barn,” I said. “Ain’t much of anythin’, is it?”
Peter seemed to sigh with relief, and he gave me a hesitant smile. “No, it ain’t much.”
Lizzie flashed her gaze to him and back to me.
“You want to try ridin’ Dixie?” I asked her. “Or maybe Oscar will let you ride Onyx.”
Lizzie’s eyes went wide, and she smiled, all her fear about the barn gone in an instant.
“Onis! Please, can I ride her? Please!”
Oscar and I exchanged a relieved glance, even smiling at Lizzie’s twist on Onyx’ name.
“Of course you can. I reckon Onyx will be happy to have you up there,” he said, holding out his hand to Lizzie, who rushed over and clasped it.
I met Oscar’s gaze as we walked back to the horses and smiled. He was good with them kids, and it made me happy to see it. Didn’t seem like he’d had much parenting when he was small, but he knew how to do it, sure enough.
I glanced back at Peter, who had let Samuel down so the little one could follow us on his own. Peter stood stock still and stared at the barn, as if he couldn’t let go of whatever ’twas that it meant to him.
“You comin’?” I said, wanting to break him out of the spell. Maybe, if Cal refused to tell us what had happened there, I could get it out of Peter.
“Sure,” he said in a quiet voice, and moved to follow us.
We led the children around the field on the horses, steering clear of the barn, until finally Miss June came out of the house with Cal, and they walked toward us.
Cal’s face was red, like she’d been crying, and Miss June seemed concerned.
“We’d best get back to The Angel,” she said.
Cal barely glanced at Oscar as she scooped her daughter off Onyx’s back.
“Momma, I’m learnin’ to ride!”
“Did you thank Mr. Yates?” Cal said.
“Who’s Mr. Yates?” Lizzie said, truly puzzled.
“That’s Oscar’s last name, though you don’t gotta be so formal,” I said.
“Thank you for letting me ride Onis,” Lizzie said. She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around Oscar, holding him tight.
Oscar gazed at me with surprise, as he put an affectionate hand on Lizzie’s head. “Of course, Lizzie. You’ll be a fine horsewoman someday.”
“I told Cal we’ll be back tomorrow with some of the girls, and they can give Cal’s place a thorough cleaning. And we’ll bring a picnic lunch for the children.”
I smiled, relieved. Miss June always knew what to do.
Cal seemed wary, but she nodded. “Thank you.”
Miss June laid a hand on Cal’s back. “We’re happy to help you, Cal. We’re so glad we found you, but I do wish you’d told us what was going on. It’s not right for you to be out here all alone in such straits.”
“Yes, ma’am. Thank you.”
Cal let Miss June give her a hug, and she hung onto the older woman for a long moment, her face pressed into Miss June’s soft neck. Then she forced herself away and gathered the children.
“Come on. We gotta go inside.”
“We’ll be by at noon tomorrow, Cal,” Miss June said. Cal didn’t answer, and Miss June and I exchanged concerned looks.
* * * *
That night, after we’d grabbed a quick supper downstairs, and the girls were busy with clients, Oscar and I retired to our room. I must have looked a bit morose, for Oscar told me to cheer up, and that he’d be back in a minute.
I picked The Call of the Wild up off my bedside table, and I guess I read about half a chapter before the door opened and Oscar slipped inside. I didn’t look up right away, because ’twas the middle of a dramatic scene, and I wanted to finish my paragraph.
I heard his footsteps then the mattress shifted, and the edge of a black silk sleeve fell onto the page as Oscar slipped the book from my slack grasp and laid it gently on the table. I gaped at the lovely vision before me.
“Oh, Oscar,” I said as he smiled and batted his lashes.
His luscious, slim form was wrapped in a peignoir of black silk with bright orange trim and a fierce gold dragon embroidered on the left side.
As I watched, he kneeled up and pulled the end of the tie that kept it closed.
The delicate fabric fell open, revealing the scintillating lace underthings that Oscar wore beneath it.
“Oh my God,” I whispered, my gaze caressing him as I took in the stunning vision of Oscar in an ebony satin basque and midnight black silk bloomers that outlined his boyish curves and made him look like a girl in all the best of ways.
I grabbed his hips, and I held him still, so I could take it in, my cock already a hard rod in my trousers and my cheeks flushing with excitement.
“Where did you get this stuff?” I asked, breathless and amazed.
Oscar rolled his eyes and trailed the end of the tie from his peignoir across my lap.
“Where do you think?”
I grinned. “From Trick?”
He nodded. “The one and only. Jimmy, she’s got a treasure chest in her room!”
“What? Trick’s hoardin’ treasure? Does Miss June know?” I mocked him.
He slapped me playfully on the shoulder.
“I don’t suppose ’tis gold, but she wouldn’t let me look! She says I gotta bring you sometime, and we can go through it together.”
Interesting.
“Sure.” My forehead wrinkled. “Wait a second! Ain’t Trick entertainin’ right now?”
Trick had been taking a break from her whoring, but when we’d got back from riding out, one of her regular clients had been in the parlor, and his eyes had about popped from his head to see Trick in her masculine get-up.
He’d made a very polite request for a couple of hours with her, and Trick had agreed after doubling her price like the shrewd businesswoman she was.
Oscar chuckled. “Well now, she did have Mr. Clark in her room, but he didn’t seem to mind watchin’ her dress me in these fine things.”
My chin dropped. “Well.”
“Didn’t take very long, and he was only sittin’ on her bed and lookin’. Trick figured ‘twould make his visit extra special to watch us.”
I thought back to my days visiting cathouses, and, yeah, I supposed if something similar had happened, featuring a young man of Oscar’s looks and delicacy, I probably would have enjoyed watching, too.
I reckoned a lot of men were more open about certain things than society at large had us figured for.
I grinned, my gaze running o’er Oscar in his seductive ensemble.
“I suppose that makes sense. Who wouldn’t want to look at you gettin’ outfitted in all this finery, you pretty poppet. Long as he stayed on that bed and didn’t come near you.”
Oscar grinned, stretching and bending this way and that, so I could see the way the fabric encased him so perfectly, his small brown nipples peeking o’er the edge of the boned corset.
“Oh no, Mr. Clark stayed right where Trick told him to. I think he likes bein’ ordered around, ye see,” Oscar said. “Like I do.”
“Oh,” I said. “Well, that’s fine, then.”
“Do you like the way I look?” Oscar said, reaching his hands toward the ceiling and arching his back so’s I could appreciate him.
“Oh, Oscar,” I said, gliding my hands along his hips and up the sides of the basque, my fingers trembling with the pleasure of it. “’Course I do,” I said, breathing hard. “You look…you look so charmin’ and like a perfect gift that I’m gonna unwrap and do terrible, vile things to.”
Oscar shivered and rocked his bottom against my thighs, gasping. “Jimmy, that’s all I want.”
I tugged him against me, then ran my hands up his back and found his mouth with mine, taking him over and making him pant and moan. He tasted of mint and chocolate, and I wondered who’d been feeding him this time.
“You been…eatin’ chocolate…” I murmured, between hearty and desperate kisses.
Oscar huffed a laugh, and I truly loved that sound from him. “Yes, sir.”
I slid a hand under the laced edge of his drawers, and slipped it underneath to cup his smooth buttock, as he clenched and rubbed up against me.
“And who gave it to you? Mr. Clark?”
“Well, Jimmy, ye see,” Oscar panted, “he had all sorts of goodies that he’d…brought for Trick, and he…and Trick thought I ought to have some.”
I grunted with mild displeasure.
“What was I supposed to do?” Oscar panted, pulling back to frown at me. “Decline?”
I grinned. “A good boy would have said ‘No, thank you.’”
Oscar stared at me. I supposed he was trying to figure out whether I was being serious. He gave me a wry grin and shrugged.
“Well, then, I guess I ain’t a very good boy.”
I slid my hand out of his bloomers and yanked them down, causing another gasp from Oscar as his eyes flew wide and his cock bounced free of the silk, looking especially fetching as it rose against the lower edge of the corset.
“Oh, fuck,” I said, my own eyes going wide at the way he looked, with the peignoir falling off his narrow shoulders and the bloomers under his balls—a creature that was the perfect mix of masculine and feminine, so divine it made my cock weep.
“You are just perfect, Oscar Yates. My perfect boy. Naughty and brave and free and so, so, very good .”
I grasped his waist and rolled him o’er, so I could strip those silk bloomers off him and spread his legs, gazing at the place I was going, and at his swollen cock that was red at the tip and looking so beautifully engorged for me.
“Jimmy!” he cried out, then laughed, then groaned. Oh, God. Fuck me in my peignoir and corset. You got to. Please !”
Instead of answering him, I laid him out beneath me and peppered his exposed skin with kisses and small bites, while he lay spread on the bed, a debauched sacrifice to my raging appetites.
He whimpered and moaned and gasped as I ravished him and cried out when I finally pushed inside him with the aid of the oil Trick had given us.
I fucked him slow, steady and determined, until I’d wrung everything from him, then spent into his heat with a roar and a curse.
I sorely hoped that Trick would let Oscar keep these items of clothing so’s we could do this at home in our own private bedroom, because if I never got to see Oscar dressed this way again, ’twould be a goddamn sorrow.