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Caitlin's Come-Uppance |
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By Nigel McParr
All day long, an obstinate late winter wind swept snow off ice-capped Buck Elk Mountain, glazing and bone chilling the valley. A bright sun hanging in a cloudless azure blue sky did little to add the slightest bit of warmth. Rancher Maggie O’Malley was in her kitchen having a cup of tea with her long time cook and closest friend Hazel Shannon. The kitchen was huge. Meant to feed both Maggie’s family and her ranch hands, it took up one end of the two-story log home. A massive field stone fireplace, wood box, wall-hung washtubs, and polished copper boiler were at one end of the kitchen. In the middle of the room, a pair of oak trencher tables and benches stood where Maggie fed her family and work hands. The big pantry, worktables, and a squat wood-fired black iron stove were at the other end of the kitchen. Wind gusts howled around the homestead, rattling the windows, but the glowing wood stove and well-fed fireplace kept the kitchen snug and warm. Two years ago when Maggie’s husband died unexpectedly, Hazel had stepped in to provide housekeeping help and deep down soul support. Were it not for Hazel, Maggie would have not been able to continue operating the cattle ranch. As close as the two women were, they were a study in contrasts. Maggie was middle aged and tall, still an attractive woman though she would have denied it. Her mom jeans, flannel shirts, and leather vests she liked to wear during the week could not hide her transparent complexion, long auburn hair, an overly generous bustline, and ample hips that still turned every cowboy’s head when she drove her pickup into town. In an attempt to minimize the jiggle and sway of her pendulous breasts, she wore denim and flannel shirts that were too large for her and she wore them outside her jeans. Had she tucked them in, it would have been way too apparent her heavy breasts and nipples were nearly at her navel. On her wedding night, her husband, a big man, had carried her into the bedroom and gently laid her on the bed. She was astounded, even frightened, when she saw his erect cock. “John O’Malley, do you really mean to put that big thing in me?’ “Yes, Ma’am,” he said softly. That is my intention.” After he’d fully introduced himself in several easy stages, he brought her to orgasm so many times she lost count. She lay beneath him, her eyes half closed, warmed and smothered by his masculinity. His chin stubble grazed her mouth when he kissed her. “I love you, John O’Malley.”
The next morning while she was hooking her bra, he came up behind her and lifted her bra-supported breasts in his hands. She could feel his hardened cock thrusting into the cleft of her bottom. She wished he would take her behind. She’d heard of such things in quilting circle but had no idea what it might be like. Hazel had told her about it, too; she said in a whisper, “They call it butt-fucking.” The term had made Maggie blush like a schoolgirl the first time she heard it. “You don’t need to wear a damn brassiere,” he’d said emphatically while he unhooked her bra and dropped it to the floor. I want you au natural.” She reluctantly turned her backside away from his bulging cock and looked into his eyes. Was her new husband really serious? Did he mean for her to go braless? What would she do to hold them up? They were bowling balls, already down to here. What about jiggling? The intensity emanating from his deep brown eyes calmed her. She could see he meant business. “Maggie, I’m your husband now and I’m telling you to leave off wearing those danged brassieres. I want you to be proud of what God gave you. Let ‘em hang. It’s what our moms did, bless ‘em. I like you that way –big, bouncy, and soft. Don’t you worry about those other guys lookin’ at you, Maggie. You’re my woman now.” Safe in his arms, Maggie melted like ice cream in July and she never looked back. She hadn’t worn a bra since that day. Now that he had passed, she still didn’t. Hazel, on the other hand, was built like a cedar fence post. Strong-armed and stout from eating too much of her cooking, she worked right alongside Maggie and sometimes the ranch hands, too. She was given to cotton print loose-fitting prairie dresses without a waist to hide the loss of her own. She kept her hair up in a tight pug. She was a few years older than Maggie with a soft round face and large hazel eyes. She and Maggie were baking bread that frigid late winter day. The two of them were at the worktable sprinkling flour into the risen bread dough, kneading it with their strong fingers. Hazel paused for a second and lifted her eyes to the kitchen window. Crystalized granules of wind-driven snow were tatted the pane, streamed horizontally past the window. It occurred to her Maggie hasn’t said a word for several minutes. That was unusual. Hazel finally lifted her apron and wiped the flour from her hands. Setting her hands on her hips, she leveled a look at Maggie. “I swear that wind is howling like a damned cougar.” Maggie nodded without looking up. “Alright, lady, so what’s going on? This isn’t one bit like you. I declare you’re as quiet as a church mouse. You tell ol’ Hazel what’s biting you.” Maggie looked up at her old friend. Weariness colored her eyes. “The truth will always out, Hazel. I just didn’t know how to tell you.” “Just tell me, that’s how.” Maggie sighed. “I met with the bank yesterday. Mr. Conway told me in no uncertain terms I need to either let another of my ranch hands go or bring Caitlin home from college. We’ve been over this. We both know I cannot afford to keep all my hands on the payroll and pay for Caitlin’s schooling. What to do?” Hazel, always the more practical minded of the two, nodded. “Well, then, Maggie, the truth is as plain as the nose on your face. You know you can’t afford to let another hand go. You need every hand you have for spring round up, fence fixin’, and everything else that needs to be done around this spread. Put simply, you must bring Caitlin home. Maybe we’ll have things straightened out in a year. She can always go back east. This is none of my business, but hell, it never stopped me before. When, dear woman, are you goin’ to get around to marryin’ Harry Simms? You know he loves you; the way you look at him, I swear you love him, too. Besides, you need a man in this house. ” Maggie brushed a spot of flour from Hazel’s cheek. She laid her palm on Maggie’s arm. “Maggie, of course I know you’re right. I’ll write a letter to Caitlin. It’ll break her heart, but I see no alternative. As for Harry Simms, I’m just waitin’ for him to propose.” Hazel snorted at that last part. Blushing, she said, “You and I both know how to make that happen.” “Not before he proposes. Hazel vented her frustration on the bread dough, slapping it so hard Maggie had to hide a smile.
Caitlin O’Malley was furious. She made sure the other passengers on the train west knew it, too. During the four days it took to cross the country, each station stop brought in fresh ears to which she subjected her woeful tale about her mother summoning her home from school. She had taken on the airs and dialect of an eastern private school snob, which the passengers quickly realized and ignored her. In fact, she’d become a spoiled rotten brat, and more than one woman on the train thought it or outright told her. After listening to her carry on at length about how she expected things to be on the ranch as if she were still back east where she had a dorm servant to do her laundry, could shop when she wanted, and was dating a well-heeled young man, an older woman sitting across from her finally had enough. She leaned across the aisle and spoke in a loud voice, “What you need, young lady, is a darn good whipping! If you were my daughter and spoke like that, I’d take you into the lavatory, lower your drawers, and redden your seat of learning with the hairbrush I keep in my purse!” The woman’s outburst and the other passengers’ laughter broke through Caitlin’s arrogant shell. Frightened and angered by the integrity and honesty in the older woman’s tone, she realized she’d forgotten her upbringing; her mother’s loving discipline and those awful spankings, which were more embarrassing than painful. Her mother had spanked her right up until she was 16. That seemed like a zillion years ago. She was grown up now - almost 21 - and certainly too old to go over her mother’s lap. She stared out the window at the dreary brown prairie and didn’t say another word until that dreadful woman sitting across from her had left the train. Caitlin looked a lot like her mother when she was 20 years old. She had her auburn hair, sensuous mouth, and overly full bustline, which caused her blouses to gap and expose her bra. She hated that and the boys loved it. She had inherited her father’s lower body, long shapely legs, and hips more modest than her mother’s. Every young man on the train was struck by her busty shape, petulant expression, long reddish curls, and huge brown eyes.
Jay Simms, Harry’s son, met her at the whistle-stop station 20 miles from her mother’s ranch. She sniffed in disgust at his work attire: wash-worn tattered Levi jeans, faded flannel shirt, and scuffed boots that had seen much better days. He was 24. Though Caitlin would never admit it, she thought him ruggedly handsome. Beneath his dusty sun-faded Stetson, he had the narrowed eyes, mustache and stubble, and wind-scoured tan of a man who’d spent most of his days in the saddle. He was as lean as hickory and stood a head taller than Caitlin. When he took Caitlin’s soft white hand in his and helped her climb up onto the old buckboard seat, she realized she’d forgotten his strength and work-hardened hands. Not one of her eastern dates had hands or a body like his. Momentarily subdued into silence by Jay’s quiet self-assured demeanor, she looked straight ahead as he clucked the horses and they rattled away from the station. Jay thanked her for coming home. He told her that her mother was anxious to lay eyes on her. He didn’t tell her if she hadn’t quit school and come back to the ranch her mother would have either had to let his dad or him go.
Maggie knew her daughter was upset with her, but was overjoyed to see her. She hugged her for a long moment before she finally let her go. Caitlin had grown into a young woman. Her body had filled out since she left the ranch. It wouldn’t be long and she’d be as big in the bust as her. Even though she was relieved of the financial burden of putting her daughter through school, she didn’t hesitate to inform Caitlin there was plenty of work to do around the house and tending to the horses in the stable. The next morning Maggie woke her bright and early. By the time Maggie had heated the water and filled the washtubs, the sun was a glimmer on the valley horizon. The kitchen was warm and steamy, fogging over the windows. Before Caitlin came downstairs still half asleep, she brushed out her hair, tied it back in a ponytail, put on a bra, and one of her school day dresses. Her mother had asked her to wear jeans, but Caitlin was having none of that. An eastern educated young woman wouldn’t be caught dead wearing baggy work jeans. Maggie lifted an eyebrow at her daughter’s outfit and bra but said nothing about it. She sat her down to Hazel’s oatmeal, brown sugar, and thick sweet cream. After breakfast, Maggie set Caitlin to work over a washboard, scrubbing and wringing the wash through a creaky wooden wringer. The soap was harsh. It burned her hands and turned them red. She understood now why her mother’s and Hazel’s hands were reddened and cracked. While she and her mother did the wash, Hazel baked coffee cake and fat loaves of bread. The day was windy and raw. A gray scud hung like a canvas canopy over the mountain. When Caitlin lugged the baskets of wash out to the clotheslines, the wind stung her cheeks and watered her eyes. It lifted her skirt exposing her nyloned thighs and gluing the bodice of her dress to the fullness of her bra. She didn’t notice Jay was watching from the stable door, silently studying her. When she’d hung the last load of wash on the lines, she confronted her mother. “Mother, I’m exhausted. My back hurts and my hands are on fire. How long do I have to do this? I’m ready to go back to school. I never did laundry at school. Our dorm dormitory hired a laundry maid! I never imagined doing wash.” While Hazel watched from the stove, Maggie stopped sweeping. She turned slowly to face her daughter. Caitlin could see she was angry, which diminished her but it didn’t completely frighten her into submission. Her mother spoke in a level voice. “Just who do you think was doing the laundry while you were away at school?” Caitlin stuck out her lower lip. “Mmm, well, I suppose it was you and Maggie.” “That’s correct, young lady and don’t you forget it. It’s about time I reminded you where you stand in this family. You’re no longer the pretty little eastern socialite. You’re back on the ranch where you belong. Under my roof, you will get your hands dirty while you earn your keep.” Maggie raised her broom. “Now empty the washtubs. After you get the wash off the lines, go on out to the stable and help Jay muck out the stalls and get hay down for the animals.” Caitlin’s extended lower lip began to tremble. She backed away from the broom. “If you don’t get a move on, Miss hoity toity, I’m going to swat you with this broom. Now scat!” Hazel’s bosom swelled with pride. Maggie wasn’t giving her daughter an inch. She knew the day was coming when Maggie would take Caitlin up to her bedroom and spank the daylights out of her. Exactly when that would happen wasn’t yet clear. But it was just a matter of time. Caitlin emptied the washtubs, threw on her sheepskin coat and knitted cap, and took the half-frozen laundry off the lines. When everything had been sprinkled, rolled, and folded to her mother’s satisfaction, she went out to the stable. She was still upset with the way her mother was treating her. Who does she think she is? Maggie wasn’t helping matters. She seemed to relish watching her mother take her down a notch. She was barely aware of the sun hanging on the western horizon and the freezing air. Snowflakes swirled and encircled her as she hiked out to the stable. It would be warm there. Horses threw off a lot of heat. Jay was cleaning a stall when she came into the stable. The horses glanced up at her and offered her friendly nickers, which she ignored. Jay asked her to climb up into the loft and fork down some hay while he finished the stalls. She reluctantly climbed the old wood ladder and began to pitch hay without much regard for where it was going. “Miss Caitlin, you’re behaving like a child,” he called up to her. “And you’re just a big lug, Jay Simms,” Caitlin called down. “I wish I were back in school. I shouldn’t have come home.” Jay’s laughter sent shards of anger slicing through her. She threw down the hayfork and hurried down the ladder. As she did, the hem of her dress caught on a nail, tearing her dress and exposing her thighs. She could see her mishap wasn’t lost on Jay. He grinned at her as she jumped to the floor and pulled down her torn skirt. “You’re a beast and a big lug,” she shouted at him. “Why you didn’t even turn your head when I tore my skirt. In the east, a gentleman would have looked away.” “Well, you’re not in the east,” he laughed. “Out here, a man admires a pretty leg. What you need, Miss Caitlin, is a damn good spanking. And I’ve a good mind to take you over my knee this very minute.” Caitlin’s eyes glittered as she slapped him hard across his cheek. As he watched her march out of the stable, his cheek burned and he couldn’t help laughing. He thought of what her father had told him before he died. Lord knew his Caitlin was a pretty little filly, but she was way too head strong. She needed to be reined in, saddle-broke. Someday soon, Jay vowed he’d take her into town to a church social and he’d spank her, too. She was quite the girl, unbroken, wild-eyed, and as pretty as a picture. His mind was made up. Nothing was going to stop him winning her over. A good spanking and then some heavy petting would settle her down. When Caitlin came into the house, Jay’s father, Harry, and Maggie were sitting at the trestle table with their heads together, almost touching. They were talking softly and sipping steaming coffee. Hazel was nowhere in sight. The idyllic scene upset Caitlin – Harry had covered her mother’s hand with his own. She bit her lip and said nothing as she threw off her coat and hung it on a peg. As she ran up the stairs, she realized Jay looked exactly like his father.
Caitlin continued her rants and obstinate behavior into the spring thaw. Maggie and Hazel both tried to appease her. They went out of their way to put up with her silly stubborn streaks. They did their best to make Caitlin understand how much they loved her and welcomed her home. Jay on the other hand was more reticent. He asked for nothing from Caitlin, but it was clear he had expectations that someday she knew would come due. Sometimes at night, she lay in her bed, listening to the howling wind and rain tatting the windows, and thought about him. She could not deny his deep-set eyes, chiseled features and hardened body excited her, even made her hot between her thighs, which not one of her so-called eastern gentlemen had ever done. Still, she would not pursue her prurient thoughts. She was simply unable and even if she were able, she would not have given in to anyone, much less Jay.
Spring-cleaning was underway. Caitlin was still Caitlin. Maggie and Hazel aired the mattresses, beat the rugs, and scrubbed floors. To get her indifferent daughter out from under her feet, Maggie turned her over to Jay, saying there was plenty of outside work to be done. Jay showed Caitlin the correct way to saddle a horse and pack her saddlebags and bedroll before they rode out to ride the fence lines. As they cantered along, Jay reminded Caitlin to make sure she always closed the gates after how they had gone through. He explained cattle would always find an open gate and wander onto the open range. Just then, Jay spotted a cow off in the distance. It was down, trying to birth a calf. They quickly rode to the next gate, which Jay galloped through after Caitlin had opened the gate. Caitlin was tired. She had no interest in the cow’s dilemma. She watched a hawk fold its wings and plummet from several hundred feet to the pasture grass where it snagged something and flew away with the wriggling something in its talons. She watched it until it disappeared. Forgetting about the open gate, she stretched out in the lush spring growth and let the warm sunlight soothe her aching body. Jay shook her out of a deep slumber, shouting, “Caitlin, you didn’t close that damn gate! The cattle are out and they’ve scattered. There’ll be hell to pay!”
At noon on a warm cloudless day, Maggie and Hazel were in the kitchen with Caitlin when they heard the pounding of hooves. Caitlin followed the two older women out to the front porch. The two men reined up and dismounted in a cloud of yellow dust. The horses and riders were covered with dust and scratches. Harry tipped his hat to Maggie. “Good news, Maggie, It took Jay, two other hands, and me a full two days but we rounded up every last one of them strays. We got ‘em all safely back where they belong.” Maggie kissed father and son and said, “Before you two immerse yourselves in a well-deserved hot bath, I want you and Hazel to know I’ve finally had enough of Caitlin’s infantile shenanigans. I’ve just been waiting for your return.” “Huzzah!” Jay cheered, thrusting his fist high in the air while Caitlin looked dismayed and tried to disappear behind her mother. Maggie knew Caitlin was trying to hide behind her. She spun around and caught her daughter by her ear. “Now that I’ve got a hold of you, you are going to get it good, young lady! I’ve had enough of your sass and don’t give a damn attitude. It’s time you got a refresher on responsibility and consequences. I’m taking you upstairs.” Jay stepped forward. “Pardon me, Ma’am, if you don’t mind I’d be happy to do that for you. You must know I’m not exactly pleased with her behavior either.” “Why, Jay Simms, thank you. I’d be right pleased if you took my daughter in hand. She needs a strong hand…a good man’s hand to keep her in line. You can use my hairbrush. It’s in my bedroom.” Jay gave Caitlin a laconic smile as he took hold of her arm. He ignored her howls as they went into the house. He delivered a few well-placed smacks to Caitlin’s skirted backside as he walked her up the stairs and into Maggie’s bedroom. “Stop that squealing, young lady! I haven’t even begun.” Maggie’s bedroom was large and comfortable. Dark varnished wainscoting ran around the lower walls. Rose patterned wallpaper covered the upper walls. The double window facing the front wall was open to the lawn below. An antique carved walnut bed, a wedding gift from her deceased husband, occupied most of one wall. A fancy dressing table, mirror, straight-back caned chair, and a hand-painted armoire and bureau lined the other walls. Jay spotted the old maple hairbrush on the dressing table; probably the same brush Maggie used to brush out her beautiful hair. When Caitlin saw the brush it reminded her of the lessons her mother had taught her before she left for college. Jay didn’t close the bedroom door, which Caitlin thought was terribly unfair. The door remained open so Maggie, Hazel, and Harry down in the kitchen could hear everything. Caitlin waited nervously for Jay to tell her what to do. While maintaining his grip on Caitlin’s arm, Jay picked up the hairbrush and dragged the straight-back chair near the open door. Those in the kitchen below would be his audience. He sat on the chair and stood Caitlin directly in front of him. He glanced up at his shivering captive. Tears were filling her eyes; he almost didn’t proceed. “It’s time we got down to business, Caitlin. Your mother’s patience and my patience have worn thin. Someday, assuming your mom manages to hang onto this ranch, you’ll inherit the whole spread. I shudder to think of that day. You are not ready to run this ranch – not even close. The sheer work and responsibilities would eat you alive. Your behavior and your attitude have to change, girl, and I can help your mom with that.” Caitlin’s faint hope Jay might reconsider disappeared when he pulled her down onto her lap, eliciting an embarrassed squeal from Caitlin. “J-Jay…p-please…” “Wouldn’t I be a poor excuse for a god-fearing male if I didn’t carry out my duty? You should have thought about the consequences while you were being such an obnoxious brat!" Jay jerked down her panties and landed the hairbrush landed with a satisfying report on Caitlin’s plump bottom cheeks. He spanked methodically at first, then, stepped up the pace. "N-N-o-o-o-o!" Caitlin shrieked. She could hear the cheers emanating from the kitchen. Her hand groped back to her seat. She was mortified. She knew Jay was enjoying his moment of triumph. She could just imagine the smug look on his face. Though she wasn’t yet ready to admit it, a tiny part of her had begun to surrender to him. Caitlin’s cries and the poignant smacks of the hairbrush echoed down the stairs to Maggie, Hazel, and Harry. They drank coffee, listened with delight, and satisfied expressions while Jay taught his girl he was the boss. Moments later, he ended Caitlin’s punishment with a short volley of hard smacks that drew more shrieks from poor Caitlin. When he put down the hairbrush, he made her remain on his lap while he had the final word. "Until you begin putting your mom and others before yourself and stop acting like you are the center of the universe I’m going to continue spanking you. That’s my final word, Caitlin. Are you going to do as your mom, Hazel, and I say?" In a resigned whisper, "Y-Yes.” “Yes what?” “Y-Yes…S-Sir.” “That’s better. Now on your feet and give me a hug. Starting right now, there’ll be no more dresses. You’ll wear jeans, boots, and no more bras!” “But, Jay,” Caitlin sputtered, turning crimson. “My boobs are so huge. I really need-” “Your mom has a great bustline and she hasn’t worn a bra since her wedding day. You are done with bras, Caitlin O’Malley. Read my lips: no dresses, no bras, just jeans and boots. Now, is there any part of that you do not understand?” “I get it,” Caitlin whispered. “Good. Now go change. There’s plenty of work to do and you still have to apologize to your mom for your misbehavior. I’ll be waiting for you in the stable.” Blubbering as much out of her shame as the pain in her buttocks, Caitlin looked at Jay and knew she’d lost the battle and the war. Along with that awareness, she realized she loved him and he loved her. As she left the bedroom, Jay gave her bare bottom a smack with his hand. “One to grow on,” he laughed.
A little while later, Caitlin walked into the stable in the clothes her mother had bought; stiff new jeans, boots, and a denim top. Jay was shoeing a mare. The horse swung her head around to Caitlin. Jay watched her approach. Her new jeans fit perfectly over her hips and bottom. Her heavy bosom filled the denim shirtfront. Every step she took mobilized her hips and set her unsupported breasts into vigorous motion. He didn’t try to hide his excitement at seeing her transformed. Caitlin tried to ignore his lusty stare. She went to the mare and scratched the animal’s velvety face. “Well, just look at you. The day has come.” “I-I’m really sorry, Jay, about that gate. It was pretty dumb. I wasn’t thinking clearly. Will you let me work with you again?” Jay lowered the mare’s hoof and straightened up. He could see the sincerity in Caitlin’s eyes. He didn’t need to tell her how he felt, his intentions. He’d get a ring and properly propose when they were alone under the stars after a long day of chasing strays and mending fence. “Of course you can work with me, Caitlin. However, I’m the boss. If you misbehave, I swear I’ll put you over my knee.” Jay ran his work-hardened hand over Caitlin’s taut denimed backside. “Caitlin girl, you are so scrumptious.” He pulled her into him and kissed her, sliding his tongue into her mouth. His hand found the underside of her breast. His thumb hardened her nipple. In spite of her sore bottom, Jay’s hand on her breast, his mouth, his body pressed to hers filled her with desire and sense of peace. “Oh, Jay, I’ll try to behave. I promise.” She rubbed the seat of her jeans. “You are a good teacher. But in time…well, I suppose you’ll have to teach me another lesson...” “Oh, I’m sure I will. Remember I was very close to your dad. He taught me things.” His eyes glinted and narrowed as he lowered his eyes to her straining denim shirt and the outline of her breasts. “Lord, don’t I have his beliefs…” Caitlin looked at Jay with scarlet disbelief spreading across her face. He held her there with his boyish grin. “I love you,” she sighed, her voice trailing off. She felt as close to Jay as her mother had to her father. His hands were suddenly all over her, caressing her breasts, her thighs, her plump backside. He began to unbutton her shirt. “Oh, Jay,” Caitlin whispered as he reached inside her shirt and took her breast in his hand. She squeezed herself into his hardened body. His slithering tongue, the hardness of his swollen cock beneath his jeans, and his hands, which were all over her igniting her, liquefying her passion. As he led her to the back of the stable and an empty stall piled high with fresh hay, she knew this was what she’d always wanted him to do. Going braless and submitting to Jay were meant to be. Her father, bless him, was guiding her from the Beyond. She was Jay’s girl now. Nothing else mattered. Thank you, Daddy.
In the kitchen, Maggie and Harry were sitting at the table, staring into each other’s eyes. Hazel had taken the truck and discretely disappeared. Harry said, “I only caught but a glimpse of Caitlin when she came down here, but she sure looked great in those new tight-fittin’ jeans.” “Harry Simms, you dirty old man, that ain’t all you liked. My daughter was jiggling like a fresh bowl of Jell-O, which I’m sure you enjoyed immensely.” Harry grinned, curling the ends of his mustache. “I won’t deny I like everything about that girl…Best part is she is going to be my daughter.” “Harry Simms! Are you-” “Course I am, Maggie. We can get hitched at the court house.” Maggie looked down at the worn oilcloth. She lifted her eyes, shining with tears. “Not on your tin type, Harold Simms. I’ll marry you, but I want a church wedding, the one I never had.” Harry tilted back the brim of his Stetson. “Done, girl. I’ll speak to the parson.” “Say, I don’t see any movement in that stable? What do you suppose those two are up to?” He laughed softly. “Maggie darling, you do not want to know.”
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