Finding Mercy

by D. L. Jackson

  “I turned my mare out to pasture yesterday.”

  “There’s more than one way to skin a cat. I was thinking double.”

  A dimple appeared in her cheek and her eyes sparkled. “I have to say I like the way your mind works, cowboy.”

  “What if I told you I’m not a cowboy—that I’m from a big city back East?”

  “I’d tell you it’s not a big secret. Your accent gives you away, but you handle yourself well with the stock, so I figure you deserve the title as well as any other hardworking man out here.”

  He dropped the stirrup and stepped up to her. The fluffy texture of her sweater and luscious curves beckoned to him. Justin ran his hand up the inside of her jacket, feeling the soft knit slide across his palm. “So, I have an accent?”

  “You lose your R’s.”

  He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her against his chest. “Maybe you can help me find them.”

  “Maybe.” She tipped her head back and let him capture her lips, nearly inhaling the kiss and giving him the urge to skip the ride and drag her back to the bunkhouse.

  She tasted like sunshine and happiness. No other thing could describe it. In a matter of hours, he’d become a Mercy addict. Not quite sure he could get enough. He could still smell his soap on her skin from their shower earlier. A scent not designed for women, but it now made him think of nothing but the woman who wore it so well.

  Yeah, she’d been a little nosy at first, downright bold, but once he’d gotten to know her, he couldn’t picture her any other way. Justin released her and reached over to untie the reins. He pulled his gloves from his back pocket and slipped them on before he took her hand. “Come on.”

  She walked beside them as they exited the barn, not saying a word. Outside he stopped and laced his fingers together, holding them out for her to step into. Mercy shook her head, gave a soft laugh, and stuck her foot in the stirrup.

  “You know, I do know how to climb up on one of these things.”

  “I was looking for an excuse to touch you.”

  “You don’t need an excuse for that.” She grabbed a handful of mane, then the saddle, and swung up.

  He caught himself staring at her ass and forced his gaze off her spectacular backside, before she caught him. Oh, this woman was going to get him into trouble, but for some unknown reason, he just didn’t care. She’d been right. Nobody liked to be alone, and now that he wasn’t, the thought was settling on him in a very comfortable sort of way.

  Hopefully she hadn’t put too much stock in the speech he’d given her about not being the kind of guy to take home to her mother and father. He’d very much like to be that kind of man, and maybe someday in the future, he could work through his issues and be that guy. He mounted up behind her, put his heels to his gelding, and off they went.

  “So, do you do this every morning?”

  Her body rocked with the horse’s gait, rubbing in all the right places. He wrapped one arm around her waist and pulled her back against him.

  “Same time.” The same time he’d called in that airstrike. That exact moment would haunt him for the rest of his life. But enough about that. What had her up and about? “So what are you doing out here at oh-dark-ugly in the morning?”

  “Believe it or not, I was thinking about you. That’s why I went up to your place.”

  Now that reason, above all others, had him turning the horse around and heading back. He leaned forward, nuzzled her collar out of the way, and kissed her neck. “Come back to the bunkhouse. Let’s forget this ride.”

  “Why, Justin? You didn’t get enough of that earlier?”

  “I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of that. Say yes. I’ve got bacon and eggs, and I’ll even do the cooking.”

  She tipped her head back and rested it on his shoulder. “When you bribe a girl, you really know how to bribe her.”

  “I aim to please.”

  ***

  Mercy tried to tell him what she wanted on the way back, but every time she opened her mouth, the truth froze on her tongue. She liked him a lot. Actually, everything about him, from the way he kissed her and made her knees weak, to the crooked smile that reminded her of a naughty boy, had her stomach doing flip-flops, and her heart racing. He’d sworn he wasn’t a good man, but she’d yet to see that.

  She needed this story, but now she felt conflicted. Redway wasn’t just a hero; he was a nice guy. Damn. Never get personally involved. Rule number one, and she’d broken it so many ways, she might was well call it shattered.

  Justin held her hand as they walked to the bunkhouse, giving her fingers a squeeze. “How about some cocoa?”

  “You are the devil.” She grinned. “Chocolate and all kinds of sexy. A girl doesn’t stand a chance, does she?” Damned if she didn’t mean every word. And if she was going to keep her head in the game, she need to squash this little infatuation before it turned into something more.

  He tipped his head back and laughed, the first time she’d heard him do so. It was rich and honest, and did things to her that made her feel all mushy inside. Stop being so damn sexy. Stop being…. He couldn’t be more than a story.

  The crooked grin made an appearance and her pulse picked up.

  “Don’t know about the sexy bit, but I’ve got the chocolate if you’ll step into my lair.” He opened the front door and held it for her.

  “Um, yum. I want to get me some of that.” She walked past him and dragged her finger along the bulge in his jeans as she went. Screw controlling herself. Nothing wrong with enjoying his company. It didn’t mean she was hearing wedding bells—or backing off from the story.

  “Was that an innuendo?”

  “Very much so.” She dropped her parka in the entryway and peeled her sweater over her head. Turning around, she crooked her finger and backed toward his bedroom. “You are all kinds of sexy. As soon as you’re naked, I plan to show you.”

  He growled and flung his hat across the room like a Frisbee. “You didn’t come inside for the chocolate, did you?”

  “I came here for a lot of things. Chocolate is only one of them.” Little did he know how true it was. There was no changing her mind or going back now, no matter how much she liked him or the connection she felt between them. She had to get this story, or kiss her career good-bye. Otherwise she’d never work as an anchorwoman again. It wasn’t like she was exposing crimes or illicit activities. All she planned to do was to tell his story. How could that hurt him?

  Chapter Five

  Doesn’t the fight for survival also justify swindle and theft? In self-defense, anything goes.

  ~Imelda Marcos

  Another week went by and Sunday afternoon rolled around again, and it had become her secret afternoon with Justin, the only time Gramps was away. Mercy snuggled on the couch with him as he read from the manual on how to train Dog. He thumbed through it, finally shutting it with a snap. “This is a lot of what your grandfather already told me.”

  “He knows his stuff. Granddad trains the Caucasians for search and rescue, too. Not just herding cattle.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, a couple years ago he used Sadie and Bear to find people buried in collapsed buildings and those trapped in basements when they took shelter from the storm. It’s what he does for the Cooperative.” She knew she shouldn’t have mentioned it, but instinct told her she could trust him with the secret. Even after the short time they’d known each other. Letting him in on it felt right.

  “Cooperative?”

  “You didn’t notice?” She rolled to her back and rested her shoulders on his lap. Mercy slid a hand up his cheek to bring his gaze down to hers. “I’m not supposed to tell you this, because they’re all hush-hush about it and it’s super-secret,” she said in her best Russian spy accent. “The whole town, or what’s left of it, is a community of preppers.”

  “Preppers? Okay, that’s a new one. I know I don’t have a television or computer, but what the heck is a prepper?”

  “
People involved in disaster preparedness. They stock up food, water, medical supplies—and train for worst-case scenarios.”

  He set his book down. “You’re pulling my leg.”

  “No. I’m not. A little less than a year ago, there was a severe storm. It leveled a good portion of the town.”

  “I knew that.”

  She put her fingers to his lips. “Who’s telling this story?”

  “Go on.” He gave her that charming smile.

  “Anyway, they banded together, those that decided to stay behind and rebuild, and bought what was left of the town.”

  “How do you buy a town?”

  “All of the buildings were privately owned and insured. When the railroad pulled out, they took the majority of jobs with it and any reason to resurrect the businesses that catered to a larger population. The insurance companies wanted to cut their losses and wash their hands of the damaged properties.”

  “So, they sold it all?”

  “Every remaining brick. They call themselves the Evans Point Cooperative and they are rebuilding, but get this, the new businesses will target disaster preparation and eco-friendly products like solar tiles to roof houses, or windmills for power. They’re also building water and air filtration systems commercially, and growing and freeze-drying food that has a shelf life of up to twenty-five years. There’s a huge demand for it. The orders are rolling in faster than they can get the production lines built.”

  “How come I haven’t seen any of it?”

  Mercy thought for a second, and figured since she’d already told him what they did, it wouldn’t hurt to tell him where. He didn’t look like the kind of guy who couldn’t keep a secret. “They’re working off some of the local ranches, in Quonset huts and farm outbuildings—until they have the whole operation up and running.”

  “When do they find the time to do this?”

  “They don’t find the time. It’s what they do for a living now. I bet you thought they were all crazy about spaghetti?”

  “The weekly meetings?”

  “Yup. They discuss economics, how the shelter is coming along, general business.”

  “They have a shelter, too?”

  “Of course they do, but it was already there, courtesy of the Army Corps of Engineers. They are just expanding and upgrading it.”

  “I have to say I’m impressed.”

  “Maybe you’d like to come to the spaghetti dinner sometime.” She bit her lip. “They’re pretty secretive about the operation, but I think they’d let you in. They could always use more skilled workers in the Cooperative, and you don’t look like you have plans to go anywhere else anytime soon.” She’d gotten so used to the idea of him sticking around, and having him included in the community seemed to give him a permanence that he didn’t have at the moment. She didn’t want to do anything to compromise it, but sooner or later she’d have to talk to Gramps about their relationship if she wanted to bring him to a meeting. And sooner or later, she’d have to tell Justin about what she did for a living.

  But not today.

  He nodded. “No, no plans to go anywhere at the moment. I like it here, for various reasons.” He scooped her up and captured her mouth, kissing her until her toes curled.

  ***

  Mercy stared at the calendar. Time was ticking by, and after a month, she still didn’t have the story. She could come up with a hundred reasons why, but she knew in her heart the truth. She’d felt uneasy broaching the subject. Justin had been just as busy, and they’d only crossed paths a dozen times, giving her more excuses to put it off.

  Every time she saw him, it was like getting hit by a bolt of electricity. Her heart would skip, her stomach would flutter, and she’d get weak in the knees. She was falling for him.

  The last time she’d seen him, they’d played chess by the fire, stealing time when Gramps was away at a disaster preparedness meeting. Nothing really crazy. Just an ordinary night with board games and a chat over a batch of hot wings she’d fried up.

  He didn’t talk much about himself, but he’d listened to her, and damn if that wasn’t the sexiest thing. When she talked, he’d treated her like the only woman in the world. Nodding, asking questions, and showing a deep interest. He’d fed her desires to be heard, the same desires that had gotten her into journalism.

  She’d steered him away from anything to do with her career, instead talking about how she’d come to live with her grandparents, and the time she spent on the ranch before moving to Cheyenne and going to school. She’d never wanted to hide who she was before, but with Justin, she’d been ashamed to admit what she really did.

  The funny thing was, her gut told her the truth, but her head refused to believe what was happening. He wouldn’t be so friendly if he knew the real her, or the woman she’d thought she was at one time. So, she talked about the fun stuff. Things she could share without destroying the moment. Family stories, mostly. Her ancestors were colorful and a great topic to entertain with.

  It was rumored her great-great-great aunt had been a train robber and dressed like a man when she rode with her gang. Often mistaken for a member of the opposite sex, she’d used the disguise to her benefit, avoiding the law and the hangman’s noose. Half the state had been looking for a young man and it never entered their minds to look for a woman. By the time she settled down years later, no one had been the wiser. Everyone assumed her wealth had come from old family money.

  He’d laughed, and when she’d asked him why, he told her when he pictured her aunt, the way she’d described her, she sounded a lot like her. Which was incredible, because her gramps swore he knew her when he was a child and she’d been in her eighties. He’d told her time and time again Mercy was her twin, in so many ways.

  Then there was the Texas Ranger, the man who’d fallen in love with her aunt and married her. Some say he knew Elizabeth’s sordid past, but he’d been blinded by love. She loved that tale the best. The romance. The danger. A love of a lifetime between the most unlikely of couples.

  From membership in the Wyoming Cattlemen’s Association and involvement in the Johnson County War, to riding for the Pony Express and working on a ranch outside of Cheyenne, later relocating to Evans Point to ranch their own land, her family had their roots deep in Wyoming history. Justin seemed as fascinated as she had been the first time her grandfather had told her the scandalous tales, and when she’d left that night, she realized she’d delayed yet again to ask for the interview.

  He didn’t have a computer or television, but that didn’t matter, eventually he’d know. In a town this size, it was only a matter of time before someone told him. She couldn’t hide it forever. But that she’d felt the need to not mention it said something. Maybe she should walk away from the story and not bring up a past he’d tried to escape.

  The more time she spent with him, the less important the exclusive seemed, and for the first time in her life, she wasn’t sure she wanted to be an anchorwoman anymore. She’d been happy here for the last month. The first time she’d actually felt settled.

  The quiet had been nice, talking about her family had been fun, and his company, that had been…wonderful. Everywhere she’d gone in the past, she’d been surrounded by media, and often the siren’s call to work had been too strong. She rarely relaxed, always keeping her ears open for a story. But not with him. With him she was Mercy, Will’s granddaughter, an uncomplicated woman.

  “You should write a book. You’re good at telling stories.”

  She’d shrugged at the time and smiled. There was so much she could write about, and the journalist in her wanted to document it all. Yeah, she’d always wanted to write a book or two, but never had the time. Her career had dominated every second of her life. Until now.

  Mercy sat up and pulled her laptop out of the bag and rested it in her lap, sitting cross-legged on the old quilt her grandmother had made her for her sixteenth birthday.

  Mr. Carson Newell,

  Effective immediately I’m resigning fro
m my position as anchorwoman with Cheyenne News.

  She dated, digitally signed, and stared at the one-sentence end to her career. Her finger hovered over the Send button. It had been all she’d ever wanted.

  But not anymore.

  “So what are some of the names you hear on a daily basis?”

  “Slut, whore, dike.” The tiny girl looked at her through a curtain of dark hair that fell across her face. So pretty and so sad. Mercy could see the pain in her expression and this interview would send her ratings zooming. God, this was good stuff. Who would pick on such a fragile girl? And she was going to show the world what monsters the bullies were.

  “Does this happen to others in your school?”

  “Yes, there are a group of us they target. Prejudice. It’s hateful. We have such a small town that everyone seems to be in on it at times. Sometimes it feels like you can never escape it.”

  “Target? Do you feel it is because of your sexual preference?”

  “My sexual preference? I don’t understand.”

  Fear replaced the pain, but Mercy hadn’t seen it, too concerned with being her champion. So, she’d charged forward, excited that she could help her, and the others who’d been abused for years. “That you’re in a relationship with another girl?”

  “I’m not in…. Can we talk about something else?”

  Mercy reached up and rubbed her head. It had been four months ago. If she’d known she’d been outing the girl, she never would’ve asked that question. After interviewing several other students about the school bullying in a small town, it had seemed like common knowledge, yet it wasn’t, not to Charity Price’s family. A senior in high school and honors student, Charity went home that night and swallowed a bottle of pills, taking her life, never knowing her parents didn’t care that she loved another girl. They immediately filed a lawsuit against the station.