by Ari McKay
Table of Contents
Blurb
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
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Copyright
The Quality of Mercy
By Ari McKay
A Bent Oak Story
Gil Porter and Matt Grayson’s Bent Oak Ranch in Mercy, Texas, is a rare haven for gay men in the nineteenth century, and their friend Carlos Hernandez will need it when a man from his past unexpectedly comes back into his life.
Jules Wingate hopes to start over in Mercy as the schoolmaster after a scandal sent him and his son fleeing their former home. But he discovers he’s left one bad situation for another when he encounters his former student and lover, Carlos. No matter how Jules tries to resist, he yearns for the passionate connection they once shared… before Carlos broke his heart.
Carlos knows his foolish, immature actions hurt Jules, but he desperately wants a second chance and to show Jules he’s changed. But trust so badly broken is hard to repair. While he works to earn Jules’s forgiveness, someone else at the ranch has his sights set on Carlos—and he doesn’t care how many lives he has to ruin to make Carlos his and his alone.
Chapter One
Texas, 1890
CARLOS HERNANDEZ stood in the center of Bent Oak Ranch’s largest paddock, with a dappled gray yearling on the end of a long lead rope. Little vegetation grew in the enclosure due to the steady stamp of horse hooves and cowboy boots, and dust settled on Carlos’s boots as he turned in slow circles while the horse galloped around the perimeter of the wood rail fence with a saddle on her back. The September sun was bright and still hot, making both Carlos and the yearling sweat, but the Texas summer heat was receding, and the nights were getting cooler at last.
Carlos’s responsibilities had increased since Gil Porter, the owner of Bent Oak, decided to move away from raising cattle and toward breeding horses. His experience in working with horses had gotten him a job at the ranch, and his hard work and dedication had gotten him put in charge of breeding and training. He had plenty to do to keep him busy, and he ended each day tired but proud of his part in helping Bent Oak succeed. But of late, he yearned for something more.
Gil and Matt Grayson, the ranch foreman and Gil’s lover, had found a way to be together discreetly even here on the ranch, surrounded by other people. Matt had moved out of the foreman’s house and into the big house after his sister Jeanie got married and moved into town. Gil claimed he found it more convenient to have his foreman under the same roof, and no one had questioned him. Now they lived together, happy and in love, and Carlos found himself longing for what they had.
He was lonely. But he wanted more than a warm body to share his bed. He wanted to share his life with someone. He wanted the closeness and connection that Gil and Matt shared. He wanted the love and passion he had known—and foolishly thrown away—once before.
“That filly has a pretty gait,” a voice called out from the fence line, and Carlos glanced over to see Matt tying his own horse, Wendigo, to the railing. Matt was a big, sturdy man, with dark brown hair and hazel eyes, and he leaned on a wooden crossbar, regarding Carlos with a raised eyebrow. “Too pretty for you to be looking like someone done rained on your picnic.”
Carlos gradually brought the yearling to a stop and let her rest while he went to talk to Matt.
“I believe she will be one of our best,” he said, ignoring Matt’s observation about his mood. “We might want to keep her.”
Matt nodded and grinned, but he didn’t take his eyes from Carlos’s face. “I trust your instincts when it comes to horses, so if you say we keep her, that’s what we’ll do. I’m sure the fact that she’s named after your boss ain’t got nothing to do with it.”
In fact, the filly’s name was Gilla, and Gil Porter had assisted with her birth, an event that had helped the Boston-born-and-raised man develop a bond with the ranch.
Carlos tried to remain objective and fair when it came to judging the horses, but he had to admit he didn’t always succeed. He had a soft spot for Gilla, and he knew Gil did too, so he was inclined to look for reasons to keep her at Bent Oak.
“Not a thing. I am always impartial,” he said, although a quirk of his lips gave away his teasing.
“Uh-huh.” Matt’s eyes crinkled at the corners, but then his expression turned more serious. “That’s a little better, but I still miss seeing you smile. Seems like you don’t think you got too much to smile about lately, and I’m getting worried you’re thinking about moving on. I wouldn’t like that, and neither would Gil. So… you gonna talk to me about what’s wrong? I was your friend long before I was foreman of this place. I hope you know you can tell me anything.”
“I am not going to leave Bent Oak,” Carlos said, reaching out to stroke Wendigo’s velvety nose. “I like my job and the ranch. I have no desire to leave when I can work solely with horses as I have always wanted to do.”
There was no mistaking the relief on Matt’s face, and he nodded. “I’m glad to hear it. I want you to feel like your home is here at Bent Oak, and not just because there ain’t no one better with horses than you. Not because we were once lovers, neither. You belong here, just as much as me or Gil or the horses. And me and Gil both want you to be happy.”
“You need not concern yourself about me,” Carlos said. Gilla walked up behind him and nudged his shoulder with her nose, and he pivoted so he could give her the attention she wanted. Gilla had been doted on by Matt, Gil, and José—her dam’s owner—since birth, and she was accustomed to being petted and spoiled. “My wandering days are behind me. Bent Oak is my home, and I am happy here.”
“You may be content enough, but you ain’t happy.” Matt’s tone was certain, and he did know Carlos better than anyone else. “I’ve seen that new hand, Caleb, making eyes at you when he thinks I ain’t looking. Just in case you ain’t noticed it for yourself. Time was that a handsome man casting his eye your way would’ve put a spring in your step and a gleam in your eye.”
Carlos stroked Gilla’s neck as he considered how to respond. He’d noticed Caleb, of course. How could he not when Caleb’s golden curls and big blue eyes reminded him of the only man who had ever captured his heart? But he’d also recognized Caleb’s immaturity. Caleb was much like Gilla: accustomed to getting attention whenever he wanted it. Carlos didn’t doubt that Caleb thought he could get any man he wanted thanks to his pretty face, mainly because Carlos had once been the same way himself.
“I see too much of my younger self in Caleb,” he said at last. “We would not suit.”
Matt’s gaze sharpened, but he only nodded in response. “Well then, if you’re at loose ends this evening, what do you think of coming into Mercy with me and Gil? There’s that reception for the new schoolmaster tonight. I know you don’t get off the ranch much, so this might be a good time to look at what else is on offer, so to speak. There ain’t been nothing big in town since Fourth of July, so I’m thinking there’ll be a lot of people there.”
Carlos doubted there were any more men who shared his preferences in town
than there were the last time he went, but he liked the idea of seeing something different for a few hours. He never felt closed in thanks to the rolling plains that stretched out to the horizon, but the flatness of the land also meant the scenery stayed pretty much the same.
“Very well,” he said, inclining his head slightly. “What time should I be ready?”
“Gil and I are taking the carriage, and we’ll be leaving about four,” Matt replied. He reached out, put a hand on Carlos’s shoulder, and gave it a squeeze. “If you don’t see no one to your liking, we can go have a few drinks after the tea and cake stuff is over, if you’d like. Gil won’t mind. Hell, he’d probably want to come along.”
Gil had arrived at Bent Oak as a stuffy Boston socialite who preferred the parlor to the stables. But Bent Oak had liberated Gil from the shackles placed on him by his dictatorial father and by Boston society, and now he was more likely to be outside in jeans and a chambray work shirt like the rest of the hands, far more comfortable in his own skin here than he ever had been in Boston.
“He probably would,” Carlos said, chuckling.
Matt nodded, releasing Carlos’s shoulder with another squeeze. “All right, then,” he said, unwrapping Wendigo’s reins from the rail. He stepped back, then swung up into the saddle with the ease of a natural-born horseman. “Wear something pretty,” he added and then grinned wickedly as he turned Wendigo in the direction of the stables.
Carlos unfastened the lead rope and grasped Gilla’s bridle. She’d had enough saddle training for one day, and Carlos needed to wash off the scent of horses and sweat before going into town. He didn’t expect the reception to be all that interesting, especially since he didn’t have school-age children, but at least he would get the chance to socialize with people he didn’t see often. That alone would make the trip worthwhile.
And if the new schoolmaster was a handsome man who shared Carlos’s preferences, so much the better. Carlos shook his head and smiled at his own foolishness. The schoolmaster was far more likely to be an absentminded scholar with soft hands and a round little wife. But, Carlos thought as he led Gilla to the stables, a man could dream.
Chapter Two
“AS YOU can see, Mr. Wingate, we’ve provided only the best for your students. Mercy may not be as large as Houston or Dallas, but we want our children to have an excellent education.”
Jules Wingate had to admit the small but growing town of Mercy, Texas, had done itself proud with its new primary school. There was a classroom for each of the eight grades and an office for him to use in his role as administrator, all of them smelling of new wood and fresh paint. The chalkboards were untouched, pristine, waiting to be filled with lessons for the eager young minds that would occupy the neat rows of wood-and-cast-iron desks in each room. New books had been purchased and were lined up on the shelves in perfect order. All in all, Jules felt both relief and satisfaction in the obvious display of the town’s commitment to the education of its children. Too often the more rural areas of the state couldn’t afford—and didn’t always understand the value of—giving their children access to knowledge beyond that used for day-to-day tasks on a farm or ranch.
“I’m very impressed, Mrs. Hennessey,” he said, smiling at the matron who had been the motivating force behind both the construction of the new school and the hiring of the new schoolmaster. The town was employing him, but he was aware of the reality of the situation, which was no different in Mercy than it was in any other town. If Mrs. Hennessey didn’t think he was doing a good job, he would be replaced, no matter what anyone else thought. Fortunately, the lady seemed more interested in the welfare of the town and its inhabitants than in pursuing the schoolmaster, which was a relief after the discomfort that had caused him to leave his previous position.
“Good.” Mrs. Hennessey smiled in return, her dark eyes revealing satisfaction at his comment from behind her spectacles, but thankfully no coyness or simpering. She was at least ten years his senior and a widow, if the deep black of her dress was any indication, but Jules had seen women even older than she trying to act like coquettes, and he wondered what it was about being a schoolmaster that seemed to turn many women back into giggling girls looking to catch his eye. “I’ve arranged for a small reception in your honor this evening so you may meet some of the townspeople, including your teaching staff. I hope that will be acceptable?”
“Of course,” Jules agreed at once, although he was dismayed that he’d have little time to get settled with Al before making a public appearance. Fortunately, his eighteen-year-old stepson took things in stride and no doubt would welcome the opportunity to meet the young ladies of the town. Al had been quite excited about the move from Stafford, in the eastern part of the state, to the far more rugged area near Mercy, and he looked forward to getting a job as a hand on one of the local ranches.
Mrs. Hennessey opened a gold brooch pinned to the ruffles on her bodice, revealing a watch face. “I should leave you to get settled in, Mr. Wingate. We do appreciate someone with your credentials taking the position on such short notice, especially with school beginning next week.”
“It looks to have been a wise decision on my part, ma’am,” he replied. “I look forward to educating the children of this town.”
“If you will excuse me, I must run off to another meeting,” she said, holding out her hand. Jules pressed it politely, then watched as she bustled out of the classroom in a swirl of ebony skirts.
He took one more look around the classroom before following in her footsteps. Instead of heading toward the front of the building where his office was, however, he turned toward the rear. The back of the building exited to a large yard where the students would take lunch and recess on days when the weather was fine, and across it was the older schoolhouse, which had been remodeled into a home for the new schoolmaster. Like most small towns, Mercy saw no need to waste a perfectly good building.
The house was one reason Jules had been willing to accept the job on short notice, since he and Al would have a place of their own, rather than being obliged to live in a rooming house. Jules had grown used to the privacy of a home, but too often there was little choice for a new arrival to a small rural town except to rent rooms in someone else’s. It could lead to uncomfortable situations, and Jules had been through too many of those in the past few years.
Moving had been inevitable. Jules had grown increasingly uncomfortable with the attentions of a local matron in the small town of Stafford, Texas. Sally Emerson was an attractive woman, but Jules had no interest in the fairer sex. No one except Jules’s deceased wife had known, but their marriage had been based on friendship and mutual need instead of romance. Mary Stevens had known she was dying, and with no other family, she’d desperately needed someone to watch out for her adolescent son, Albert. Jules had needed the respectability of marriage to still the wagging tongues of gossip. Mary had been a good friend and confidante, but never a lover—although Al was unaware of that fact. Jules’s stepson, like most of Stafford, believed Mary and Jules to be a doomed love match, and after Mary’s passing, that had elevated Jules to the role of tragic, suffering widower. Sally Emerson’s pursuit had become blatant enough to start a new round of gossip about Jules that, ironically, was far less accurate than the rumors that had circulated about him before his marriage.
Shaking off his introspective mood, Jules entered the house, which had been furnished for his arrival. The sofa and chairs in the sitting room didn’t match, but they were clean and sturdy, and there were separate bedrooms for him and Al, as well as a small bathroom, complete with a flush toilet. Given that many of the local residents probably still used outhouses, Jules was impressed they’d considered the comfort of the schoolmaster so important, and he appreciated not having to trek through wind, rain, and snow to address nature’s call in the middle of the night.
He moved through the sitting room to the room that served for both cooking and dining. There was a piece of paper on the table, which turned out to
be a note from Al, and Jules read it with fond amusement. The lure of new adventures had been too much temptation for Al to wait for his stepfather to finish his meeting, and he had gone off to explore the town, which meant he was probably pestering the locals for information about the ranches in the area.
Jules decided to use the time to finish unpacking and to wash off the dust of travel before the reception. He was well aware of the need to make a good first impression, but only Mrs. Hennessey’s insistence had driven him to meet with her after having arrived on the stagecoach that morning. Yet it was probably for the best that things were moving so quickly. Jules didn’t have time to brood over his decision to pull up stakes from Stafford and relocate hundreds of miles away from the place he’d called home for over a decade. He tended to be too introspective at times, so staying occupied would keep him from worrying too much about what challenges a new town would bring.
Now that he had some uninterrupted time alone, Jules went to his bedroom and opened the trunk that held his clothing and certain of his private possessions. At the bottom, underneath his neatly folded shirts, was a box containing hundreds of pages, all of them covered in his careful copperplate. This was his masterpiece—his novel, his labor of love and pain and hope and heartache. He’d been working on it for ten years, and he hoped he would finally be able to finish it here in Mercy. He wanted to see it published, of course, but simply completing it would give him a great deal of satisfaction as well. Humming under his breath, he carried the box into the kitchen, settling in at the table to work until he had to prepare for the evening.
Three hours later, after bathing, shaving, and changing into his best suit, Jules stood beside Mrs. Hennessey and Mr. McManus, another of the town’s leading citizens, while they introduced him to what seemed to be the entire population of Mercy. Mrs. Hennessey’s interpretation of “some” people appeared to be everyone within a fifty-mile radius, and Jules was a bit overwhelmed by the crowd. He wouldn’t be able to remember everyone’s name, and his jaw was beginning to ache from having to smile so much.
