The Fall of Jericho

by Rebecca Goings

  She reached for him with her one good hand, and he obeyed her silent plea, bringing his warmth down to her. He was careful not to rest his weight on her and held himself up on his elbows.

  With a few unhurried thrusts, he’d slicked his cock on her wet clit, bringing forth a groan of wanting from her lips at the wicked sensation.

  “You promised this moment to me years ago.”

  “That I did,” she told him as she caressed his back. “I should have known it was inevitable and given in to you right there in the middle of Sagebrush Springs.”

  With a chuckle, he said, “Don’t you think that would have made quite the scene? The good Reverend’s boy, getting dirty with prim and proper Mercy Ainsworth in front of the stables? Tongues would have been wagging for months.”

  She gave him a grin and kissed his cheek. “The only tongue I’m worried about is yours.”

  He laughed out loud. “I knew it!”

  “Knew what?” she asked, laughing with him.

  He pinned her with a sultry gaze. “You aren’t so prim and proper after all.”

  His mouth descended, ending their banter with a fiery kiss that scorched her from the inside out. Again and again he demanded her response, until she was so wild with need, she was about to rip her mouth away to beg for him to take her.

  Before she could, he pulled back, only to surge forward, embedding himself deep within her pussy. A cry escaped her, not from his entry, but from the discomfort he’d caused her ribs.

  “Christ, did I hurt you?”

  “A little,” she confessed. He moved as if to climb off her, but she wrapped her leg around his hips to keep him there. “You leave, Mr. James, and I’ll hurt you.”

  His countenance melted from concern to mischief. “You’re hurtin’ me already, baby. You’re so tight. And so hot.”

  Mercy forgot her pain the moment he pulled back only to thrust again. Jericho nibbled on her lips as he continued his rhythm, teasing her. His thrusts felt so good, she couldn’t help but rock with him. When his hand reached between them to massage her clit, she threw her head back and succumbed to the fathomless pleasure washing over her.

  The moment her muscles contracted around his cock, Jericho plunged once more before he, too, fell over the edge, advancing little by little to prolong the feeling.

  When the storm of their passion subsided, she kissed the slick skin of his neck and shoulders. The heat of his breath puffed against her cheek, sending more shivers throughout her body.

  “Ah, darlin’, now you don’t owe me a thing,” he goaded, nuzzling her ear.

  Threading her fingers through his hair, she said, “Oh, you’re wrong, cowboy.” She smiled when he raised a brow at her tone. “You saved me at the bluff,” she reminded him. “I owe you my life.”

  “Hmm,” he said, appearing to mull it over. “You do at that. One of these days, I’ll make you pay up.”

  “Can’t wait.”

  With her hand still in his hair, she yanked his head down for another long, lingering kiss.

  Chapter Ten

  By noon the next day, they’d made it back to Sagebrush Springs. Quite a few folks stopped on the road to watch them ride by. It wasn’t every day a man came into town with a woman clinging to him and his horse.

  The ride back hadn’t been as uncomfortable as Mercy thought it might be. If anything, she was more hot than she was in pain. They’d run out of water in the sheriff’s canteen a few hours before. She was thankful to be back in civilization.

  “We need to take you to the doc.”

  Jericho’s deep voice vibrated through her. She’d been holding on to his shirt in order to keep from shifting on her perch, but memories of his naked body came back to her in a rush. Their night together had been the most thrilling night of her life. Her only regret was that it most likely wouldn’t happen again.

  “I’ll be fine,” she answered. “Just take me home.”

  “You don’t have any more bindings for your ribs than the strips of your petticoats,” he reminded her. “Besides, you need to make sure you aren’t hurt any more than you think you are.”

  Jericho was right, damn him. But all she could think about was gulping a tall glass of water and collapsing in her large bed.

  “All right,” she conceded with a sigh. “But you’re paying for his services.”

  He grinned. “Sounds more than fair.”

  It didn’t take long before they were at Dr. Reynolds’ office. He ushered them into an exam room and sat in quiet horror as they told him their story.

  “I’ll need to take a look at you, Miss Ainsworth,” he said, his mustache bristling.

  “Of course.” She glanced at Jericho.

  “A little privacy, please, Mr. James?” The doctor raised a brow and nodded toward the door.

  “I’ll be in the lobby if you need me.”

  Mercy nodded.

  “Do you have any family to pick you up?” Dr. Reynolds asked once Jericho had left the room. Before she could answer, his voice yelled through the door.

  “She’s got me!”

  “Jericho will take me home,” she said, her heart warming.

  Once she’d been examined, the doctor gave her two sets of fresh bandages. “Try to stay off your feet if possible, and no heavy lifting for at least five weeks. Minimal work around the house.”

  “Yes, sir.” She averted her eyes, thinking on all the chores she’d neglected already. She couldn’t possibly continue to neglect them. They had to be done, one way or another. She had no money to hire anyone.

  After she’d dressed, she opened the door to find Jericho pacing the doctor’s lobby.

  “You all right?” he asked, seeming genuinely worried.

  “She’ll be fine!” the doc piped up with a cheerful grin. “Just needs a few weeks off her feet and she’ll be as right as rain. How’s your mother doing?”

  “Last I knew, she hadn’t woken up for awhile.”

  Dr. Reynolds pursed his lips. “I’ll be on that side of town tomorrow, I’ll come on by and check up on her.”

  “Appreciate it.”

  When the bill was settled, Jericho led Mercy back out onto the boardwalk. “Thank you, Jericho,” she murmured, looking at the sky.

  “For what?” he asked.

  Mercy took a deep breath, held it, then let it out in a sigh. “Everything.”

  Standing on her toes, she gave him a peck on the cheek and turned away, shuffling in the direction of her home.

  “Where do you think you’re going?”

  “Home,” she said simply.

  “But you need someone to take care of you!”

  “I haven’t had anyone to take care of me for two years. I’ll manage.” The sling holding her left arm chafed her neck, and she scratched at it. “Besides, who’s going to do it? You? Your father? You both have so much more to worry about with Nora. At least I’m up and about.”

  “Well,” he said, clearly agitated, “don’t you have any friends that can help you?”

  She gave him a forlorn grin. “Perhaps some ladies from the church. Can you have your father put in a good word?”

  He merely stared at her.

  “Goodbye, Jericho.” Swallowing hard, she made her way up the boardwalk, determined not to show her misery.

  Chapter Eleven

  “You did what?”

  Jericho opened his mouth to speak, but his father continued, smacking him on the back of his head.

  “I thought I raised you better, boy!”

  “Ow!” He gave Malachi a scathing glare.

  “That woman has done so much for us, it’s the least we could do to pay back the favor. She needs to be here so we can look after her.”

  “I told her as much. But she said she’s been looking after herself for two years.”

  Malachi crossed his arms over his chest and gazed down at his son sitting at the kitchen table. “You told her to come stay with us?”

  “Not...in so many words. I told her she ne
eded someone to take care of her.”

  “Someone? Someone?” Malachi took off his glasses and wiped his face with both hands. “Jericho. We are the closest thing that little girl has to family. The Good Lord has given us the duty to take care of the poor, the infirm, the widow, and the orphan. Granted, she’s not a widow, but she might as well be! There isn’t any man in her life. I’ve seen how much it pains her to go home to an empty house. She wants a family, son. We can give that to her.”

  Jericho sat in silence for a moment before saying, “I haven’t found Joy’s killer. I can’t be what Mercy wants me to be.”

  Malachi pulled out a chair and settled on it. “Yes, you can. You’re just too scared to do it. You loved Joy so much and lost her. You’re terrified it’ll happen again.

  “Listen, boy. I love your Mama with all my heart. She’s the light of my life. And I’m going to lose her soon, I know that. But I wouldn’t change a thing. If I knew when I married her that she’d go home to the Lord first, I’d have still walked down that aisle.”

  He paused to wipe the moisture out of his eyes.

  “Life’s about living. And you ain’t living it.”

  Jericho’s own eyes stung at the mention of his mother dying. He dropped his gaze to his folded hands.

  “I’ve known for years you and Mercy love each other. Nora’s been wanting grandbabies since I don’t know when. She loves Mercy as any mother would, and I love her like one of my own. Thought she might become a James sooner rather than later. But you got it in your head that your sister needed avenging and took off for who knows where.

  “Listen to me real good.” Malachi leaned in close. “Joy’s with the Lord. She’s dancing in eternity, and Nora’s going to be with her soon. I know for a fact Joy is happy, without a care, shedding no tears. Let God deal your revenge, son. In the end, we all have to face our Maker. I have no doubt Joy’s killer will answer for his crimes. One of these days.”

  Malachi took his son’s hand and squeezed hard. “If you don’t want Mercy for your wife then let her go. You’re the reason she’s been turning down Roger Ford’s proposals. He’s a good boy. He can provide for her. But you’ve got to tell her one way or the other. I’ll respect your decision. Either way, I want you to bring her back here, kicking and screaming if you have to.”

  Jericho closed his eyes and scrubbed his hands through his hair. Roger’s name once again brought his anger bubbling to the surface. Good Lord, was he jealous? He didn’t know what to think any more.

  Hearing his father say he’d known for years that he loved Mercy somehow made it real. She was the only woman he’d ever cared about. The only one who’d looked at him without pity, without judgment. She understood his pain and his anguish. They were hers as well.

  She’d accepted him, even when he made no commitments to her. She’d been willing to make love to him without marriage, because she knew that was all she’d get.

  Thinking of her in her large quiet house, in pain and alone, broke his heart. The woman deserved more from life. From him.

  Maybe his father was right. Maybe it was time to man up and settle down.

  Chapter Twelve

  Mercy sat on the floor of the kitchen where she’d finally collapsed. Her idea of putting the bookcase in front of the broken window hadn’t been a good one, even though she’d emptied the shelves first. Her parlor was now littered with her father’s books, and the bookcase was only halfway in front of the window, partially blocking the front door. It had been too heavy, and her agony too great.

  Instead of moving the bookcase, she decided to get some laundry done, as she had nothing clean to wear. But pumping the water outside was a horrendous task, and the water in her bucket had sloshed all over the back steps the moment the handle slipped through her fingers.

  Her breathing came in short puffs. All she wanted to do was lay down and cry, defeated by a few broken ribs and one tattered heart.

  A loud knock sounded on the front door.

  “Mercy?”

  It was Jericho. Her stomach leaped inside her, but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t stand on her own. A twinge of pain shot through her like a thunderclap and stole her breath. She couldn’t even answer him.

  Frustrated and furious with herself, she let her tears fall. They rolled down her nose onto the floor.

  Jericho didn’t bother calling her name again. He’d opened the door himself and she heard the loud scrape of the bookcase as he moved it across the floor.

  “Good Lord!”

  His confident footsteps reached her three strides. He dropped to his knees.

  “Mercy, sweetheart, are you all right?”

  Ever-so-gently, he lifted her. She hissed and grimaced. “No!” she managed past her sob.

  Instantly she was in his arms as he stood. “You’re coming home with me.”

  “But—”

  “You do not want to argue with me right now, woman.” His eyes were stormy, daring her to fight him.

  As much as she valued her independence, being home for just a short while proved she couldn’t do anything for herself. Even the simplest tasks were Herculean feats, and she was entirely too exhausted to stand her ground.

  With a shallow sigh, she acquiesced and placed her head on his shoulder.

  Bandit stood outside, and her eyes rounded.

  “Please don’t make me ride your horse, Jericho,” she said, sniffling. “I’m in so much pain.”

  “I know you are.” His voice was soft and gentle, like summer rain. “I’ll take care of you. Whatever it takes. Just get better.”

  She circled his neck with her good hand and held on tight. He stopped for a moment to unhitch his horse when a familiar voice called out across the street.

  “Mercy, what’s happened? Is everything all right?”

  She groaned. It was Roger.

  Jericho gazed into her eyes. “Do you want him to be with you?” he whispered.

  She cupped his cheek and stroked his lip with her thumb. “No.”

  He looked at her a moment longer, and she hoped he could read what must be written all over her face. She only wanted one man. Him.

  “My word!” Roger’s dirty jeans hung low, and his shirt was untucked. He must have been heading home after a day working with animals. “You’re as white as a sheet. Are you injured? Do you need the doctor?”

  “Outta my way, Ford,” Jericho growled. “I’m taking her home.”

  “But this is her home.” The poor man looked so confused.

  “Not anymore. Miss Ainsworth pledged her life to me just yesterday, didn’t you, honey?”

  Mercy stared at Jericho with her mouth wide open. What he’d just said shocked her beyond speech.

  Roger sputtered for a moment and knit his brows together. “Is that true, Mercy?”

  “I—I—”

  “Go ahead and tell him,” he said with a wink. “It’s time you pay up.”

  Every nerve in Mercy’s body tingled. Her pain was forgotten as she glanced between the men facing off on the road. She had no doubt Jericho was making good on her debt, holding her to her word that she owed him her life. But did he truly mean it, or was he merely saving her from Roger’s affections?

  “Yes,” she said, deciding to give Jericho a little something to think about. “It’s true, Roger. I’m hopelessly in love with Jericho James, and no other man will do. I simply cannot marry you when I’ve given him every last piece of myself.”

  Silence descended upon them, and Roger cleared his throat uncomfortably. Jericho’s eyebrows shot up as he looked down at her, but he didn’t say a word. She was amazed at his strength and how his arms didn’t waver, despite the fact he’d been holding onto her for the last few minutes.

  “Well, then,” Roger said, breaking the quiet. “I give you my congratulations and wish you all the best.”

  He walked away, but Mercy barely noticed. Not when Jericho lowered his head and kissed her passionately for any and all to see. His teeth tugged at he
r bottom lip, and she groaned, wishing they were somewhere more private.

  Apparently, he had the very same thought.

  “I want to rip these clothes off you, lick every nook and cranny I can find, and make love to you until dawn tomorrow.”

  “What’s stopping you?” she asked flippantly.

  He growled at her and began marching up the road once more.

  “Not a damn thing.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Mercy had to laugh at Jericho’s frustration. Once he’d made it to his parents’ house, Malachi had raced down the porch and insisted his son warm some water for her to have a bath. The thought of cleaning up sounded heavenly after the heat of the long day.

  She and Malachi talked at the table while Jericho banged two large pots on the stove. She couldn’t resist glancing at him every now and again. His stance was predatory, almost angry. He’d been eager to get her here, but it was obvious he’d forgotten the fact his reverend father would never let them share a room in his house.

  In his haste, he burned himself and cursed foully. Malachi raised a brow. “Excuse me, boy?”

  Jericho turned and stood with his arms across his chest, glaring at the older man. “Sorry, sir,” he grumbled, not looking the least bit repentant.

  His eyes caught hers, and a shiver raced through her body when the corner of his mouth lifted in a slight, suggestive grin.

  “Why don’t you go on into the guest room, Mercy?” Jericho said, his voice soothing. “I’ll be in with your water in no time. Pa will fetch the tub.”

  Malachi cleared his throat and stood. “Of course, sweetie. You go right ahead.”

  Mercy smiled at them both and walked slowly down the hall. Her eyes flitted to the closed door of Nora and Malachi’s room. She breathed a prayer for Jericho’s mother, who still hadn’t wakened.

  The door to the guest room was open a crack and she pushed it the rest of the way. A small bed was made within, with a lovely blue and green quilt spread out upon it. A vanity with brushes and combs sat opposite. Before she could pick up a brush to tame the tangles in her hair, Malachi wandered in, carrying a circular, wooden tub.