She giggled. “What a strange remark! But I find everyone here so friendly. I was a wee bit afraid that people wouldn’t like me, and that’s not a problem at all, it seems.” She wondered why she’d confessed that, but oh well, she’d already said it.
The words hung in the air but she couldn’t take them back, so she took another sip. “I wonder if whoever made this will give me the recipe.” She handed Ike her glass. “I’d like some more, but I’m too tired to get it.”
Ike went to fetch her drink, but before he returned, another fellow, Sully again, asked her to dance, to which she happily agreed. After the song ended, she collapsed beside Ike. “Isn’t it hot in here?”
“Nope, the first of May in the desert—nice and cool. Not hot. I’d say you are, though.”
By midnight, all the families with children, except the Lawrences, had left. Jake had made beds in the hay for the baby and B.J. Other than them, only Harper’s friends and a few older gents remained. Mercy’s feet ached, but it was a good ache, for she’d never been the belle of the ball in her entire life.
She was afraid to utter a word because all that came out were giggles. Instead of conversing, she watched everyone have a good time, as she was herself, and danced a few more times. Inky tried to make himself at home on her lap and seemed insulted every time she accepted an invitation to dance, but he’d just have to pout.
Sully kept asking but she only danced with him once more. When he brought her back to Ike, she was so thirsty that she drank another half a glass of punch. After a few minutes, she felt rested enough for another spin around the dance floor, which also seemed to spin.
The night was heady. No matter who she danced with, it felt as if she were gliding across the planks, but she knew that couldn’t be possible. Still, she leaned into her dance partner for support. She wasn’t even sure which man she danced with at the moment.
The next thing she knew, two of the men started arguing over who danced with her next. “I think I’ll sit this one out,” she said, another giggle erupting, as she backed away. She stood in the middle of the dance floor, a bit confused as to where to go.
One man threw a punch and then the other fellow hit back. The fight was on.
Mercy stood, dazed and amazed at all the commotion, for in an instant, hats and hay flew as men pummeled one another with their fists.
Jake hollered, “Boston, get Henry and Teddy out of here.”
Mercy saw Jake get elbowed in the back. Jake spun around and punched the fellow in the jaw. Mercy had never seen a woman fight like that.
“My baby’s squalling,” Jake growled. “I don’t have time to mess around with you.” The man took another swing. She punched his gut with her left and his jaw with her right. When he dropped to the floor, she stepped over him and headed to Mercy who’d had the presence of mind to grab the baby.
“Ain’t nothing like a good fight to get your blood pumping.” She took her baby and cuddled him. “Hang on, Scamp. You’ll get your food just as soon as I can fetch B.J. and get us out of here in one piece.”
Mercy knew she should get out of there, too, but Jake disappeared so she couldn’t follow, and the only way out was clogged with fighting men. Someone had just dumped over the refreshment table with all that lovely pink punch.
So this was what the Wild West was all about! She could hardly wait to write to Patience and her folks back in Massachusetts.
* * *
Quill knew the party would still be on but at midnight, he reckoned Miss Mercy would have gone to bed, so he rode back home. Lanterns lit the barn bright enough that he could see the light half a mile away. He was in no hurry, but a few hundred yards from the barn he heard the unmistakable sound of a drunken brawl. The hairs on the back of his head prickled and he spurred Horse into a gallop.
He had no qualms about the cowhands having a little fun, but he couldn’t afford for any of his hands to get hurt just before roundup. Every man needed to be in one piece and ready to ride day after tomorrow. So he galloped his horse to the barn door, where one man flew out right before Horse’s nose and scared him. He reared and Quill reined him to the left so the horse’s hooves wouldn’t stomp the man who lay in the dirt.
Quill jumped off and flipped the reins over the hitching post, then dashed into the fracas. Jake was holding her own with a couple men, even with a baby in the crook of her left arm. Ben had her back, taking on a few himself. Not bad for a Boston lawyer. Uncle Ike had climbed the harness wall and walloped anyone who came near with a riding quirt.
In case the old man had more fire than good sense, Quill made his way to his uncle to get him out of there before he got clouted upside the head with a plate.
When Ike saw him, he grinned. “Helluva fight!”
“You all right?”
“Yep, but you better get Mercy the hell out of there before someone tramples her. She took a likin’ to that pretty pink punch.”
Shit on a shingle! She’d been drinking Uncle Ike’s lemonade brandy. “Where is she?”
“Last I saw, right square in the middle. You’re gonna have to fight your way in to fetch her, and likely fight your way out.”
“Be back in a minute.”
Uncle Ike hooted. “Best damned fight I’ve seen in ten years!” He snapped the quirt at a brawler who came too close. “It’s all in the wrist.”
Quill saw Harp in the back of the barn, giving a little better than he was getting, so Quill didn’t worry about him. For now, he had to get Miss Mercy out of this mess before she got hurt. He’d seen her right off—vivid blue dress and radiant red hair—not exactly easy to miss.
She stood wide-eyed with her mouth agape and her hands clasped over her lovely breasts. Cat yowled and took a vicious swipe at a man who came too near her. Dog barked his fool head off and hopped around, having a good old time. Quill took a hit in the ribs, so he turned to one side and decked the unfortunate soul, then plowed into the ruckus, knocking fighters this way and that, until he got to Miss Mercy.
Without a word, he snagged her by the waist and tossed her over his shoulder. He held the back of her thighs with his left arm and fought with his right. Since the rear of the barn was closer, he headed that direction. Uncle Ike could hold his own—he seemed to be having as good a time as Cat was.
Someone’s fist landed on his ribs. Same damned place. But then Miss Mercy bashed the cowhand over the head with her punch glass. The Circle ID cowhand rubbed his head and when he caught Quill’s glare, said, “Sorry, boss.”
Quill saw an opening and charged through it, then ducked into a small room where they kept feed for the milk cows.
Miss Mercy giggled as he laid her on the pile of hay, but she didn’t let go of his neck and pulled him on top of her. “Oh, my! Is this what they call a roll in the hay?” She giggled again. “And with the charming prince, too—tall, dark, and handsome.”
She got the dark part right since there was little light, but he saw the gleam in her eyes and all he could picture in his mind was her full lips ripe for kissing, and her delectable cleavage that made a man itch to cup her bosom. His lower parts ached with need and he groaned.
But she was drunk. And not for him. Especially not now. He pulled her arms from his neck and held them to her sides. He bet she had no idea how much of a temptation she was.
“You stay here, sugar.” He pushed himself up. “I’ll be back in ten minutes to take you in the house.”
“Where are you going?”
“This prince is about to rescue his crazy uncle.”
But mostly, Quill needed to rescue himself.
Chapter 9
Sunday morning, Quill got up before first light. The calmness of the cool spring morning belied the commotion that would take place just as soon as the other ranchers and their outfits arrived at the Circle ID. Dog wagged his tail—he knew something was happening. A man could fool another man, but he could never fool a dog. Cat’s hair stood straight up and he eyed Quill suspiciously.
As ex
pected, Jake and her bunch were the first to show up—Jake was never late. B.J. rode a few paces behind her on his Shetland pony, between Homer and Teddy, who both rode full size mounts. They’d been working cattle their whole lives and were as useful as grown men for anything that didn’t require a lot of heft. A dozen hands followed, herding the Bar EL remuda.
It took an hour longer than Quill wanted, but all the ranchers finally showed up at the Circle ID, which made for more of a circus atmosphere than a working ranch’s, and the whole outfit was finally ready to ride.
“Everybody ready?” Quill shouted. “Canteens full?”
Nearly all the men hooted and hollered, for it was fun to go on roundup even though it was danged hard work. But the freedom of riding on the range had buried itself in every man’s heart. Quill glanced at Jake and smiled. He knew she felt the same way.
“Mount up, then.” To Jake, he said, “There’s two times of the year—roundup, and the rest of the year.”
“That’s a fact. I just hope this bunch of beef-headed rascals is up to the job. We have quite a few new hands in the crew.”
“We’ll make do, we always have.” He waved to all the cowhands. “Let’s ride!” Quill nudged Horse to a walk and Dog moseyed along beside. Then he ran back to Mercy, who held Cat, and nuzzled her hand, then jumped and barked as if he wanted her to come along.
“C’mon, Dog,” Quill yelled, and the brown mutt trotted back to Quill’s side, but looked back at Mercy a few times.
“Looks like Dog wants Mercy to come along,” Jake said.
“She’d be useless.” His voice sounded a mite more gruff than he’d intended.
Until the crews all got the hang of where they were supposed to ride in relation to the rest of the roundup cowhands, Quill didn’t want to travel too fast, but in twenty minutes or so, he’d pick up the pace.
“Wait!” he heard Mercy call. “You forgot your new chaps.”
She ran out, skirts flying, clutching a bundle to her bosom, and handed it to him. The package was neatly wrapped in blue calico tied with a red ribbon. “I didn’t have much choice for wrapping, but I finished with your chaps not long before the dance, and afterward I didn’t have time to find anything better. I hope they serve you well.”
He took the package, a mite touched that she’d worked so hard on something for him. “Much obliged. See you in a few weeks.”
She smiled that sweet smile at him, the one that went straight to his heart every time, then she picked up her skirts, ran back to the porch, and stood next to Uncle Ike. The two of them waved until Quill couldn’t see them anymore.
Whether he was happier to finally be getting away from Mercy and all her temptations, or whether he was sorrowful to leave her, he couldn’t say. She wouldn’t stay a single woman for long, though, that he knew for sure. Not just because of her physical beauty, either. She shined happiness from the inside out and every man who met her wanted to bask in her sunshine.
Except him. He had no interest in risking his heart on any woman, especially her.
Jake’s baby started squalling. She tucked him under her poncho and pretty soon Quill heard suckling noises.
“That baby sure does eat a lot,” he said.
“He’s a big boy and he’ll grow into a big man—gotta give him a good start.”
Quill wouldn’t mind a couple boys tagging along after him, and some girls, too. Little girls with red hair and sunny dispositions—like Mercy. He could do without the stubbornness, though. But stubborn as she was, would she stay around to raise the kids? Would she stay around long enough to have more than one? Jake had stayed with Ben for five years. He wondered how long she planned to stick around.
“You ever thought about leaving Ben?”
“Hell no. That poor feller is stuck with me, and don’t you go trying to make time with me or I’ll punch you in the snoot.”
“Naw, I wasn’t meaning that. It just seems like women don’t stick around very good, is all.”
“Just ‘cause your mama didn’t stick around don’t mean the rest of us is like that.”
“That don’t have nothing to do with nothing.”
“Quill, you ain’t making one bit of sense.” But then she chuckled and he wondered what that was all about.
* * *
“I thought they’d never get out of here.” Ike went into the house, his hand pressed against his back. As Mercy followed him, she thought his limp was more pronounced than usual.
When they got inside, he said, “I’ll fetch my war bag and get the horses and mule saddled. You best get changed out of that dress and into your working duds. Then let Ray know that we’re ready to pack our supplies on the mule.”
“I’ll bring down your war bag if you’re not of a mind to climb the stairs again—that is, if you don’t mind me going into your room to fetch it.”
“Naw, I don’t mind at all. Much obliged.”
“Do you really want to go with me, Ike? Because I know long hours in the saddle are hard on you these days.”
“I wouldn’t miss this show for the world.” He flicked his hand as he walked out the door. “Now get a move on.”
Mercy thought he had a little more spring in his step than normal, even if he was stiff with old age. She certainly did! This morning had been a trial, what with her acting as if she wouldn’t see anybody for a few weeks. A few hours, more like it.
She dashed upstairs and yanked off her dress, petticoats, and corset, but left on her chemise and drawers. It took some effort and experimentation, but she managed to bind her breasts in a criss-cross fashion—Jake had told her that the less flopping she did, the better off she’d be. Then Mercy dressed in the shirt and britches she’d bought from Tresa.
Never before had she worn britches, and the sensation of cloth between her legs was rather strange. After pacing back and forth across the room, she decided she liked the freedom of movement, and wondered why and how women came to wear such inconvenient clothing. That thought never would’ve crossed her mind back in Massachusetts, but the West required different thinking about a lot of things.
Her saddlebags were already packed with her sewing kit, another shirt and pair of britches, and a few underclothes—everything except for her hairbrush and toiletries she’d needed for her morning ablutions. She threw those items in, secured the buckle, then pulled on some heavy socks and the boots Jake had given her. They were a little big but would be fine since she’d be riding most of the time, not walking.
Little prickles of excitement ran up her spine as she dashed down the stairs, carrying her saddlebags and Ike’s war bag, and she prayed Jake had made the right call. Ike seemed to think she had. Mercy hoped so with all her heart—because even though her feelings were unrequited, Quill had her heart and always would. She just needed to get him used to the idea.
“Ready to pack the mule?” she said to Ray. “Ike’s saddling him and the horses now.”
“Got it all toted out to the porch, along with a nice bag of food for you to eat along the way. I expect you won’t want to catch up with them until they’ve pitched camp so I packed extra.”
She nodded. “Ike said we wouldn’t make ourselves known until they’re all eating supper, so we have a long day.”
“You might get a mite saddle sore before the day is out.”
“Maybe, but a little discomfort won’t dissuade me.”
Ray took her saddlebags and patted her on the shoulder. “Mercy, you’re doing the right thing. Now get yourself out to the barn—Ike’s got something for you.”
She gave him a little hug and took off at a dead run, for she was anxious to leave even though they had plenty of time, and in fact, would probably have to wait on the roundup crew to get settled.
Once she got to the barn, she said, “What do you have for me, Ike? Ray sent me out here.”
He held up a gunbelt and pistol. “This was my wife’s. I want you to wear it, and if necessary, I want you to use it. There’s a lot of varmints out there�
�man and beast. You take care, especially when I or Quill ain’t around.”
“But... I don’t know how to shoot it.”
“Once we get away from the ranch a piece where it won’t bother the milk cows and chickens, I’ll let you plink a few rocks. You won’t be any good, but at least you’ll get the feel of the weapon in your hands, and I’ll give you a few safety pointers—the first one being if you don’t intend to kill a man, don’t point it at him.”
“I could never do such a thing.”
“Even if they was gonna kill someone you love? You’d be surprised at what you can do when your choices are dire.” He handed it to her. “Buckle it on. Soon as me and Ray get the mule packed, we’ll be ready to ride, and I want you to be comfortable with the feel and weight of the six-shooter before we mount up.”
Mercy strapped it on, the pistol weighing heavy on her side. How folks could walk around with deadly weapons that could kill with just a squeeze of the trigger was a mystery to her. But in Owyhee County, everyone—including Quill—had either a sidearm or a rifle handy no matter where they went. She reckoned the sooner she learned to use the pistol, the easier it would be to become as comfortable carrying it as all the others were.
Ike brought out the saddled horses and tied them to the hitching post in front of the barn. “You’ll be riding the chestnut gelding. Jake brought him by for you—said he’s solid as a rock.”
“Strong?”
“He is that, but what that means is he don’t shy easy. Since you haven’t rode much, she reckoned you shouldn’t have a horse that’s skittery.”
“She thought right and I appreciate that. I want to become more competent, but right now, I fully concede that I’m a novice, since I’ve only ever ridden sidesaddle on very gentle horses in the park.”
“This’ll be a mite different.” He patted the chestnut on the hip. “I’ll take the mule up to the house so Ray don’t have to carry everything out here.”
She’d learned early on that they kept the animals on the barn side of the ranchstead so they didn’t have to clean manure away from the front step of the house. “I’ll stay with the horses.”
Mercy: Bride of Idaho (American Mail-Order Bride 43) Page 6