Mercy: Bride of Idaho (American Mail-Order Bride 43)

by Jacquie Rogers

  Quill hollered at Jake. “Get up here with three men, some strong rope, and something we can use for a lever.”

  “She hurt?”

  “No, but get a move on.” He went back to Mercy and knelt by her side with the purpose of distracting her while they waited for the others to climb up. “Are you going to tell me how Dog got up here?”

  “If I knew, I’d tell you, but all I can say is I was sitting on a rock, watching you...” Her face reddened. “I mean that as the plural ‘you,’ of course.”

  Quill nodded, but somehow it made him feel good inside to know she had been watching him. Her red cheeks gave that away. “And?”

  “And I heard some noise in the brush and panting, which I thought was a bear, so I pulled my pistol. But it was Lobo and he was so happy to see me that my gun went off.”

  He had to be careful that his gun didn’t go off, as beautiful as she was. Maybe he needed to distract himself. “That doesn’t explain how your hair came to be trapped under a boulder.”

  “I accidentally pulled the trigger and the bullet must have hit the branch. The next thing I knew, I was about to be crushed by a boulder.”

  “Not sure that all makes sense.”

  “I’m not sure, either, but truth is, I don’t remember everything. I was so frightened because I thought I’d be eaten by a bear, and the next thing I knew, I was flat on my back with a boulder on my hair and Lobo slobbering all over my face.”

  “His name’s Dog.”

  “Not anymore. He likes being Lobo.”

  As if to prove it, the dog slathered his tongue all over Quill’s ear. “Cut it out!” He used his sleeve to dry the slobbers.”

  “You should try letting dog spit air dry.” She wrinkled her button nose. “I hope I never have to do that again.”

  “I’m going to see if you have any broken bones.” The thought of touching her in such an intimate way played havoc with his lower parts, but he had to keep that in check. Her well-being was a whole lot more important than anything else.

  “How are you going to do that?”

  “I’m going to feel them. Don’t worry, I think I’ll be able to tell without you disrobing.”

  “That’s good because I wouldn’t, and besides, I can’t.” She pointed to her braid with her left forefinger. “Pinned—remember?”

  He ran his hands up and down each leg—so supple and smooth even through the cloth of her britches—then examined her left arm, all while fighting to quell his attraction. Such feelings didn’t speak well of his character, and he felt a twinge of guilt. But damn it all, a man touching a beautiful woman would have to be dead not to have some reaction.

  “How’s your right arm?” That worried him some, but they wouldn’t be able to tell if it was broken until they moved the boulder and the branch.

  “Numb, but I think it’s fine. Just need to get off this pile of rocks and I’ll be all right.” She squinted at him, and he realized she had nowhere to look but straight into the sun, and her face looked sunburned already.

  “How about I put my hat over your face?”

  “Is it that ugly?” She actually looked concerned, which surprised him.

  “It’s quite pretty, but I don’t want your face to get any more burnt than it already is.” He found her canteen a few yards away. “Want a drink? I could dampen my bandana and cool your face before I put my hat over it.”

  She smiled. “I’d quite like that. Thank you.”

  He smiled at her. “We’ll get you fixed right up.”

  With one yank of the knot, he untied his bandana and slipped it from his neck. Then he uncorked the canteen and dribbled a little into her pretty mouth—not much because he didn’t want her to choke, but he could see that she was overheated and he needed to get some water into her.

  “Do you want more?” he asked.

  “My face first, please.” She sighed. “My face is quite hot and I fear you’re spot on about the sunburn.”

  He wetted the bandana carefully so as not to waste water, then dabbed it softly to her cheeks. A tear trickled down her temple and disappeared into her hairline. “Did I hurt you?”

  “No.” She pursed her lips and looked away from him. “Do you really think I’m pretty, or were you just saying that because I’m in such a bad situation?”

  No one had a more beautiful smile. Quill wondered why she didn’t appreciate her own sunshine. “Anyone would think you’re right fine, Mercy. Inside and out.”

  “That’s very kind if you to say so.”

  “Not kind, just fact.” For some unfathomable reason, he bent and kissed her on the cheek, then brushed his lips against hers. He’d wanted to kiss her ever since she got to Henderson Flats, especially Friday night at the dance. “Mercy, when you get out of here, I want to kiss you senseless.”

  Except he was the one who’d lost all of his marbles. The sight of her made him long to touch her, the sound of her laughter brought joy to his heart. He’d never go another day in his life without remembering her rose scent, and feeling her touch as she was fitting this chaps to him.

  But he wanted to kiss her anyway. Just as his lips touched hers, he heard Jake say, “There you are.”

  Chapter 12

  Mercy had had no idea how often she nodded when people talked to her until her braid was caught under a rock. Even the slightest movement tugged on her hair and her scalp was sore, but that wasn’t what caused her tears. Even so, Quill’s kiss made every twinge worth it.

  He’d thought the accident had upset her and made her cry—but actually, she was happy that Quill cared at all, and his kiss showed he had at least some attraction for her. She, on the other hand, had been drawn to him since the first day she’d seen him at Henderson Flats. In fact, she’d felt guilty since she was promised to Ike.

  Other women might consider the whole situation a huge debacle, but Mercy had been relieved that Ike had intended her for his one of his great-nephews. Of course, Ike’s plan would’ve gone easier if Quill had cooperated early on. Now there was hope.

  Quill knelt beside her. “Everyone’s just about here, but we can’t start until they haul up the branch they cut to use as a lever. Don’t worry, we’ll get you down—just be patient.”

  “When you have a rock on your hair, you don’t have much choice but to be patient.”

  “I’m putting my hat over your face now. The sun isn’t helping your skin any.”

  “It makes me nervous not to be able to see anything. Will you stay by me?” She’d told the truth, but it had the added benefit of maybe keeping him near her. She craved his reassuring presence.

  He took the hat off his head and settled it over her face. “Every second, sugar.” He held her free hand and petted the back of it. His touch was definitely a distraction. Then she heard a yip and Lobo jumped on her legs.

  “At least with your hat on my face, he’s not licking me.” Her voice sounded muffled under his Stetson.

  “No, he’s licking me.” She felt him move over her. “Get on, now, Dog.”

  Then Inky meowed and curled up beside her ear for a nice little snooze. Mercy didn’t know Inky had come along. Whoever heard of a cat on a roundup?

  In the background, she heard Jake and the men talking but couldn’t quite understand what they said.

  “How long do you think it will take them to get here with the branch?”

  “Anytime now. We’re gonna get some ropes around that boulder and put a chock under the side by your head, so we’ll get started on that now. Then, we’ll be all ready to get you out of here.”

  “I’m looping a rope around Mercy’s legs, too,” Jake said. “If that boulder moves an inch, we can drag her out even if it falls the wrong way.”

  Quill patted her hand again. “You hear that? We might scuff you up some, but we’ll get you out in one piece.”

  She heard frequent footsteps crunching on the loose rocks, and a lot of mumbling. Sunburn or not she wanted to see what was going on. Inky slept through it all. T
hen she heard some more commotion—wood clanking on rock and men huffing and puffing.

  “About time you got here,” Jake said.

  “Have you ever tried hauling a log up a fifty-foot boulder?” a man griped. “I’ll set a spell and help when you get it ready.”

  “No, you won’t,” Quill growled. “Y’all get over here.” To Mercy, he murmured, “I’ll stay right with you. Don’t worry yourself none.”

  Mercy listened as he instructed the others where to put the pole. “I’ll push from the side she’s on while you lift the boulder. Jake, you’re in charge of the pole. Sully, get over here and help me push.”

  “That ain’t a good idea, Quill. If the boulder tips sideways, we’ll be grease spots.” She reckoned Sully said that.

  After some arguing, they got to work, grunting and groaning. She heard the boulder move and did have trepidations, but knew that Quill would keep her safe. Finally, her braid was freed and she felt the rope tighten around her legs. The boulder crashed down the hill as they pulled her to safety, knocking Quill’s hat off her face in the process.

  “Thank you.” She scrambled to her feet as best she could, which reminded her right away that she was saddle sore—but she wasn’t about to let Quill know it. She hugged him right there in front of everyone. “You were wonderful.”

  He held her by the waist and pulled her even closer, but only for a moment, then he seemed to remember to keep his distance, and pushed her way. But that one moment held promise for wondrous things to come, and Mercy was determined that she would get her man.

  “Let’s get you down to the camp and have Whip check you over.”

  Now that the excitement had ended, Mercy was ready for a good meal. “I’m hoping he’ll give me some of that stew he’s been cooking. It smells delicious.”

  Jake laughed. “She’s a mite on the scrawny side and cute as a button, but I reckon she’s as tough as any man here.”

  Mercy felt honored that Jake had said that, and she might even have believed it if her legs didn’t ache so much. “Where’s Lobo?”

  “Dog’s down with Ike,” Quill said. “I reckon there was too many people up here to suit him.”

  “Then let’s go. I’ve been on this pile of rocks too long.”

  “You had us all worried there for a bit.”

  “I’m sorry about that.” But she wasn’t a bit sorry that she’d gotten a kiss and a hug out of the deal, and she aimed to get another.

  * * *

  When they all rode into camp, Quill called to Whip, “We got her back. Better get over here and make sure she doesn’t have any broken bones that I missed.”

  “And I’d love a bowl of stew, please.”

  A tall, rangy old man dressed the same as the rest, only with an apron tied around his middle, saluted her with a plate. “Coming right up.”

  Quill held her by the waist, which felt quite nice. “You can wait to eat until he makes sure you’re all right.”

  “Oh, I’m fine.” And she was starved. Nothing like nearly getting your head smashed to work up a hearty appetite. “We had breakfast hours and hours ago, and I couldn’t eat much on the trail for all the excitement, so I’m ready to make up for it now.”

  Jake winked at Mercy and took the reins from Quill’s hand. “I’ll settle the horses while you two bicker about her biscuits.”

  Whip brought a plate of stew and two biscuits. “Butter and jelly at the wagon, if you want me to fetch it. There’s still coffee but it ain’t too hot. I’m boiling another pot, though, so have at it.”

  “These look delicious enough without butter and jelly.” Mercy took the plate and sat cross-legged on the ground, balancing the plate on her lap. Her thighs screamed but she pretended they didn’t hurt at all.

  “We have logs to sit on,” Quill said. “You don’t even know how to eat in camp. We have to get you out of here before something else goes wrong. You’re damned lucky that you made it this far, considering you’re an accident waiting to happen.”

  He certainly had turned chatty all of a sudden. And grumpy.

  “I’m tired and I’m hungry.” She proved it by taking a man-size bite of stew, followed by another, and chasing it with a hunk of biscuit. Both were delicious. Since she couldn’t talk with a full mouth, she held up her plate to Whip and nodded. He waved and picked up a tub to wash dishes.

  Ike hobbled up and sat on a log about ten feet from Mercy. “Any more where that came from?”

  “Yep, and I’ll feed you,” Quill said, “just as soon as you tell me what gave you the fool notion to bring a greenhorn girl from Massachusetts on a roundup. It’s damned dangerous out here and you know it.”

  Mercy pointed her fork toward the chuckwagon and said to Ike, “Looks like Whip’s fixing you a plate now.”

  Quill scowled at his uncle, then turned to her. “Eat hearty, on account of I’m sending you home.” To Ike, he said, “You’re taking her back first light. I’ll see to it.”

  Ike had assured her that he’d talk Quill into letting her stay on, so she didn’t worry much, but Quill did look dreadfully perturbed.

  “Nope, we won’t.” Ike stretched one leg and then the other. “I’m tired and old. The long ride was hard on these old bones and I need a good night’s sleep and time to loosen up in the morning. We’ll leave when I’m damned good and ready. You just get on with the roundup and don’t pay us no mind.”

  Quill’s expression softened, and Mercy could see that he truly did love his great-uncle. “All right, but you better be gone by the time we get in at noon.”

  “We will be.”

  What? Mercy nearly missed her mouth with her next bite of stew. Ike had promised she’d be staying, and now he was telling Quill they’d leave by noon? The old man smiled at her and she calmed herself. Everything would be fine. After all, if Quill didn't like her just a little bit, he wouldn't have been so gentle to her at the same time he was acting gruff.

  And she’d be staying. Somehow. She smiled back at Ike as Quill strode off, hollering at men to do this and that regarding bedding down.

  Ike chuckled. “Every one of them men knows exactly what to do. Just goes to show that you sure enough got his tail feathers up.”

  Mercy finished off her meal, scrubbed her plate with dirt until all the food particles were gone, and stood, her saddle-sore legs protesting. “I’ll help Whip with the dishes. I bet he wouldn’t mind another hand—he looks tired.”

  “You do that, and you’ve just won a friend. Good idea.”

  “I wonder if Quill has looked at his new chaps yet.”

  “You done a good job on them.”

  “Thank you. I find that I rather enjoy leatherwork, more so than needlework.” She took her leave and headed for the chuckwagon, where Whip had dishes from two dozen hands and pots from all the cooking to clean.

  “How about I wash up all those plates for you?”

  “Much obliged,” Whip said as he upended a bucket and sat on the bottom. “I ain’t as young as I used to be.”

  “Want me to fetch some water?”

  “Got a tub behind the wagon that’s full. Heat some of that. If we need more, we’ll get more.”

  She heard a crash and saw that Inky had upended the milk bottle and was lapping his supper with relish.

  “Gol-durn cat.” Whip scowled at Inky, then after a bit, snapped his dishtowel at him. “Scat.”

  “Is that all the milk we have?”

  “Naw, I brung a milk cow. Ain’t enough for the men to drink, but plenty for cooking.”

  Mercy cleaned up the cat’s mess, then dipped a couple gallons of water into a pot and hooked it onto the tripod over the fire. After, that she neatened up the area—stacked the dishes and lined up the pots for washing.

  “You might as well set a spell while that water’s heating.” Whip patted a spot beside him on the log. “My guess is you’ve had a big day, too, what with almost getting killed and all.”

  “You’d be right.” She dried off her hands and
plopped down, regretting such a rash action the moment her backside hit the bark. “I’ve never ridden longer than an hour in my whole life. And I’ve never climbed a mountain.”

  “That little pile of rocks. Hell—pardon my French—even Dog made it up there. Might make you a little winded, but it ain’t a hard climb, leastways to a young person such as yourself.”

  “And I’ve never been nearly crushed by a boulder.”

  “Or rescued by a man who looked as if he was gonna cart you off to the nearest shady place and have his way with you.”

  She brightened. That was the best thing she’d heard all day. “You think so?”

  Whip patted her knee. “You just make yourself useful around here. Me and Ike will handle Quill.”

  She’d rather do the handling herself, but she reckoned she should listen to men older and wiser in the way of the world. And Quill.

  Chapter 13

  Quill spent a sleepless night and he couldn’t blame it on the hard ground. Mercy Eaton wouldn’t let go of his thoughts no matter how he tried to chase her out of his mind. He wanted her with him and he wanted her gone. He shoved his chaps and gunbelt to the side, crawled out of the bedroll, then pulled on his boots and pushed his sorry self to standing.

  What he saw when he glanced to the chuckwagon nearly made him drop his britches. Mercy tended the griddle over the campfire, smiling radiantly while she flipped flapjacks as if she’d fed roundup crews her entire life. He could get used to that. She was sure easy on the eyes, even dressed as a man—although no man would wear a yellow sunbonnet. Still, she didn’t belong there—a woman like her could be hurt in any number of ways. She’d already managed to find one.

  Jake walked up and slapped him on the shoulder. “Looks like that mail-order bride of yours is making herself useful.”

  “She ain’t my bride. Might marry Harp. And Whip better enjoy her help while he’s got it because Uncle Ike’s taking her home before noon. He promised.”

  “Not sure why you wanna send her away, especially if she can help out around here. Whip’s getting long in the tooth—he could use a hand.”