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

by Jacquie Rogers

  “All right, I’ll remember that—calves stay away from the bulls. And I must, as well.”

  “Stay away from the cows, too. A cow with a calf can be as mean a critter as you ever saw.” Then after he thought about it a minute, he said, “And stay away from the calves, too.”

  “So just what animals will I be herding?”

  “Dog. You can herd Dog. He seems to enjoy it.”

  Quill didn’t blame the mutt. If the circumstances were different, he wouldn’t mind Mercy herding him, either. The young bucks at the dance hadn’t seemed to mind, according to his cousin.

  “What is it about me that puts you off so?” she asked.

  He was a mite taken back. “Nothing puts me off.”

  “You’re much more surly around me than you are around the others, yet when I was pinned down on that mountain of boulders...” Her voice trailed off, and her lower lip quivered.

  He remembered the kiss and was tempted to kiss her all over again, but luckily Dog chose that moment to start barking his head off. The two hands brought in a dozen nervous cows and their playful calves.

  Quill directed Mercy to rein her horse behind him. “These cows have only seen humans a few times and those times were for branding, so they might not take too kindly to us. You’re best off staying out of their way.”

  “I promise.”

  “And no matter what, hold on.” He’d seen more than one greenhorn dumped on his butt by a cutter. “That horse is cow smart.”

  “If he’s so smart, then why am I in danger?”

  “Because he’ll dump you in the dirt and then you’re liable to get stomped on.”

  “That sounds quite un—” Her words were cut off when her mount pivoted on his hind legs and took after a cow and calf that had broken from the herd.

  “Hang on!” Quill yelled.

  Mercy slid to the side, her butt on the saddle skirt instead of in the seat, but she did hang on to the pommel for dear life. Then she managed to pull herself up to rights, although her yellow bonnet was askew, still holding the reins in her left hand and the pommel in her right. Once the horse had herded the cow and calf back to the herd, she trotted the horse back to Quill and reined to a stop. Her shoulders sagged for a moment, but then she took a deep breath and lifted her chin.

  “Sounds quite unpleasant, but rather fun, I might say.” She grinned as she adjusted her bonnet and retied it.

  Whether he liked it or not, she’d wormed her way into his heart right then and there. He had to get her back to Massachusetts. Fast.

  Chapter 15

  Quill rode drag on the way back, partly because he wanted to keep an eye on Mercy to make sure she was safe, but mostly because he enjoyed watching her backside. She had a fine seat, all right.

  She was dangerous—that one. Try as he might, he couldn’t resist her bright smile. Worse, her voluptuous curves were made just for him, and he ached to take her to his bed.

  As they rode back to camp, the men he had sent up the side hills waited on the main trail with herds of a half dozen cows with their calves or even double that. The cows weren’t used to being herded, and along with their rambunctious calves, the crew had all they could do to keep the herd on the trail. Quill noticed everything Mercy did, and after a few miles, she’d developed a rhythm with her mount—he had to admit, she was a natural.

  Plus, she’d stolen his mutt. Dog had stayed by Quill’s side since he was a pup, that is, until Mercy had arrived. Now, he trotted alongside her horse and wrangled an occasional scratch on the ears.

  By the time they neared camp, they drove close to a hundred head of cows and nearly that many calves. Good for a first day’s work, and the camp would be in full swing with the Bar EL crew castrating and branding tomorrow, while the other crews scoured the hills for more.

  As the sun touched the southwest mountains, Quill’s stomach growled. Whether he was hungrier for food in his belly or for Mercy in his bed, he couldn’t say. He could, but he didn’t want to admit it. Acknowledging his desire for Mercy would serve no good purpose other than to make it that much harder when she left. And one way or another, she would. All women did.

  “We’re here!” Dusk settled everywhere except Mercy’s smile—she was sunshine even at midnight.

  “Yep,” he said. “You best get to the wagon and fetch yourself a cup of coffee.”

  “What will you be doing?”

  “We have to keep the cattle bunched up and settle them down for the night, then we’ll be in for supper.”

  “I can help with that.”

  “I think Uncle Ike would like some company. Everyone’s been gone all day and Whip’s been working too much to visit.”

  Besides, Quill needed some time without her distraction. The roundup didn’t run by itself, and his men needed their orders for the morning. He’d be even better off when Uncle Ike took her home. And that would be in the morning, no matter how they tried to wangle their way out of it.

  She rode closer to camp, near his uncle, and dismounted. Dog begged her for one last pat, then he bounded back toward Quill, tail wagging and tongue flopping. Maybe the mutt wasn’t such a traitor after all.

  Whip had supper ready and the aroma wafting from the campfire made Quill’s stomach rumble. Smelled like stew and biscuits, and his belly could hold a bushel of them. He risked a glance at Mercy, who walked stiffly with Ike to the remuda, where Jake was brushing her gelding. After a brief conversation, Ike took Mercy’s horse and loosened the cinch.

  Quill wondered why, since she should care for her own mount. Then again, women did get privileges not afforded to men. When Jake finished grooming, she joined the two of them, and all three seemed to be talking at once. Whatever they were palavering about, Quill had no idea, but it couldn’t be good.

  The cattle milled and the calves bawled, especially when they couldn’t see their mamas. Sully rode alongside. “The herd’s restless.”

  “I’m hoping they’ll settle in after a few minutes.”

  Jake shook her head. “That wind kicking up don’t help none.”

  “No, and looks like it’s blowing those rain clouds our way.” Quill squinted to the west. “Sully, pick a couple men and have them gather a heap of firewood, enough for cooking and branding for three days. Whip has a spare tarp in the wagon—pile up the wood and cover it with that.”

  “You got it, boss.” He rode off, crooking his finger at Homer and Teddy, Jake’s boys. Good choices.

  But when Mercy called an offer to help, Quill told Kenny to take his place and rode to her. “You can help Whip if you’re wanting to do something. He’d likely appreciate it, and those boys can gather plenty of wood on their own.”

  Mainly, he didn’t want her out of the camp. Who knew what sort of trouble she could get herself into, being a greenhorn and all. No, he needed her where he could keep an eye on her. At least that was what he told himself.

  “I’d be happy to help out with the chuckwagon duties,” she said in that sparkling manner of hers. He’d never known anyone like her, and he sure had never known anyone with a sweeter smile. Or lips. He wanted to kiss them right then—and every time he saw her.

  “And get packed up,” he said, a mite sharply. “You and Uncle Ike are leaving at first light.”

  A woman like her could mean nothing but heartache.

  * * *

  When the sun left the world dark, the only light came from the cook fire and the cowhands’ campfire. Mercy thought it was beautiful. Whip struck a lucifer and lit a lantern, which he gave to her. “You best bundle up tonight—them clouds ain’t gonna hold much longer. It’ll be a wet night.”

  Mercy didn’t look forward to sleeping in the rain, and no one had shelter other than their hats. “I’ll start serving up. The men are already standing in line.”

  “Yep, they ain’t never late for supper.” He chuckled. “They especially cotton to being served by a pretty woman.”

  Jake strolled up and clapped Mercy on the back, which nearly knoc
ked her off balance. “You done good today—never lost your seat, and as far as I know you didn’t piss off Quill, either.”

  “I don’t know about that. He seems to go from grouchy to helpful in a heartbeat. He doesn’t want me here—that I know for sure, because he told me in no uncertain terms that Ike and I would be riding for home early in the morning. Ike said he couldn’t ride until his bones loosened up, but Quill wasn’t having any of it. So it looks like we’re leaving.”

  “Hmm.” Jake took off her hat, studied it a few seconds, then put it back on. “Best we do something about that. I’ll have me a little parlay with Whip—that old coyote is sly in his own way. Meantime, keep your eyes and ears open for your best chances.”

  “But why is Quill so intent on getting rid of me? Sometimes I think he might like me, but then...”

  “But then he does something plumb barmy. Quill Roderick’s in love—he just don’t know it yet. Give him time.”

  “How can I give him time when he makes me leave?”

  “That part, we’ll take care of. Don’t you worry yourself about it. Ain’t a man here, and that includes Quill, what wants you to go, so you got plenty of help.”

  Ten minutes later, Mercy stood behind the big kettle, ladling stew into the plates of the men in line. “One biscuit or two?”

  “Three,” Homer said. “But I’ll settle for two.” He was fifteen and hungry all the time, as was Kenny, also fifteen. Mercy doubted that she ever actually got either of them filled up. And he made her homesick for her brothers, ornery as they were. Her two brothers were bottomless pits, as well.

  After three or four men, she quit asking and just gave them two biscuits. “How many did you make?” she asked Whip.

  “Four each, but you’re right to give them two. I make them come back for seconds—elsewise they’ll waste food and I don’t cook it for them to dump out. What’s left over, they get for breakfast. Leastways, that’s what I’d do if they lasted until morning. Ain’t never happened yet.”

  “Night crew,” Jake said as she held up her plate and Mercy ladled a scoop of stew onto it. “They’re ready to eat a bear and chase it with rattlesnake juice by midnight on account of most of them miss supper.”

  Jake was the last in line—Quill hadn’t shown up yet.

  “Should I fix a plate for Quill?” Mercy asked. “Or would that annoy him more?”

  “Take it to him. Me and Whip’s got a plan and it’s best you ain’t here, lest you let something slip.”

  Mercy didn’t like the sound of that. “I don’t want either of you putting yourselves in danger because of me.”

  “We know what we’re doin’.” Jake glanced to the side and back of Mercy, then nodded slightly. “Here comes Quill. Guess his belly got the best of him.”

  “I’ll load him up good.” Mercy smiled as she stirred the stew pot. “I even kept a few biscuits warm.”

  Meantime, Whip hauled out a big tub and two buckets. “You mind the pot while I fetch some water to wash up.”

  “All right.”

  “Best you fix yourself a plate and go over to Ike’s spot to eat it. Be gone by the time I get back. Hear me?”

  “Yes, just as soon as I serve Quill.”

  Whip headed off as Quill walked up, plate in hand. Mercy scooped two ladles of stew onto his dish and gave him four biscuits. “Coffee?”

  “Please.”

  “I’ll bring it to you. We’re boiling a new pot.”

  “Ain’t necessary—I can come over and pour it myself.”

  Sully came up for seconds. “I see you get four biscuits. Must have something to do with them hearts on your chaps.” He chuckled as he followed Quill, who grumbled every step to the area that had logs placed so the men could sit and eat.

  Quill straddled a log, placed his plate in front of him, and proceeded to devour the food as if he hadn’t eaten in a week. Mercy marveled at his hearty appetite, and wondered if his appetite for other things, like loving, was just as voracious. If so, she had a chance. Otherwise, she might very well end up starting that business after all.

  She dished up her own food and went to sit by Ike, who’d commandeered a prime spot farther away from the wagon, and had made his own campfire.

  “Whip told me to stay away from the wagon until further notice.”

  “Best you pay attention. We got a plan in the works. That stubborn nephew of mine don’t always get his own way, bossy as he is.”

  That was when the bull thundered through the camp. Which did get her attention, and everyone else’s. Some ran for trees, others ran for their horses.

  Quill grabbed her by the waist and threw her in the back of the wagon.

  “Stay there!” He ran in Ike’s direction.

  The bull came to a stop not far from the campfire, midway between Quill and his uncle. The bull glared at Quill and Quill glared back. The bull pawed the ground and Quill stood at the ready—feet apart, knees bent. Mercy was scared to death. That bull was ten times as big as Quill.

  But then Inky leapt on the back of the bull and yowled as he dug his claws into the animal’s hide. The bull seemed confused, then tossed his head from side to side, and bucked a little, but Inky had a good hold.

  “Hang on, Inky!” Mercy yelled.

  With the bull distracted, Quill bolted toward his uncle, and managed to get him into the wagon with her. Then Quill jumped onto his chestnut gelding—no bridle or saddle—but Jake tossed him a rope. He made a loop but didn’t rope the bull.

  “Why doesn’t he catch the bull and get him out of here?” Mercy asked.

  Ike wagged his hand, then sat on the wagon’s sideboard. “That there bull outweighs the horse and Quill put together. What my nephew has to do is convince the ornery critter that he wants to leave.”

  Which the bull did. But on the way out, he left a hoofprint right on Quill’s supper plate, and upended the coffee, to boot.

  Chapter 16

  Quill coaxed the bull out of the camp and over the next hill before he was satisfied that the old boy wouldn’t bother the camp again. When Quill got back, he found a couple biscuits in the dirt, which he blew off and ate. It would be a long time until breakfast.

  He went to the same log by the Circle ID campfire and plopped down, but he couldn’t find any way to sit but what he wasn’t staring at the hearts Mercy had tooled onto the side of his chaps. He had to admit the chaps were the best he’d ever had—remarkable since they were her first attempt. Beautiful and talented. He just couldn’t get that redhead out of his mind.

  “Boss, this weather’s stirring up the herd and they’re fixing to stampede if we don’t calm them down.” Sully took off his gloves and warmed his hands at the campfire. “The wind’s stirring them up, and looks like we might get some lightning.”

  “That’d sure set ’em off.” Quill didn’t want to hear it, but in a way, trouble was a welcome relief—at least he knew what to do about the herd. What to do about Mercy, he had no idea, other than to send her back to Massachusetts where she belonged.

  “Wait here, Sully. Soak in all the warmth you can because you’re gonna need it.”

  He headed for the remuda and saddled up the first horse he caught. If a stampede was impending, he had no time to be choosy. Within minutes, he’d mounted, waved to Sully to follow, and rode to the herd, just in time for the light rain to change into a downpour. The cold night and the colder rain chilled him to the bone, but he wasn’t any more miserable than the rest of his men as he got them positioned around the herd.

  “Mill the cattle to the right,” he murmured to each man as he rode alongside them, “slow and easy, and sing.” He didn’t want to call out orders, lest he spook the cattle even more, and these pawing, snorting cattle were all wild. The rainstorm couldn’t have come at a more inopportune time, but at least the cattle hadn’t broken into a panic yet. With luck, the crew could prevent it.

  After an hour, the cattle finally bedded down and Quill signaled for all but the night crew to come in. To a
man, they were all shivering and soaked to the skin, but luckily the rain had stopped. This country needed rain—bad—but that was hard to remember when his fingers were stiff with cold and the wind blew right through his wet clothes.

  “I’m sure looking forward to that campfire,” Homer said through his chattering teeth.

  “You ain’t the only one,” Sully said.

  Quill agreed, but when they got back to camp, he had another disaster to avert.

  “A tub of dishwater fell on him,” Uncle Ike explained as he pointed to Whip, who sat on the ground and leaned on the wagon wheel, holding his right arm.

  Quill hurried over and knelt beside the old cook. “What happened? Are you hurt bad?”

  “Nothing that hasn’t happened before. I put my right shoulder out of joint. Hurts like all holy tarnation—won’t be able to work for three or four days at least.”

  One thing the cow camp needed more than anything else was a good cook. Whip was one of the best, but he sure couldn’t do it one-handed.

  “What can I do to help you out?”

  “Ike already put it back in the socket. Ain’t nothing else you can do other than give me a few days to mend. Takes me a little while longer in my old age than it used to.”

  Uncle Ike hovered over the two of them. “I have a suggestion. You ain’t gonna like it, but I don’t see any way out of this mess other than to ask Mercy to do the cooking. Whip can tell her anything she don’t know already—although I have to say she’s a danged good cook. We could be in a lot worse shape.”

  “I doubt she can take the long hours of heavy work,” Quill said. “She’d have to get up before dawn and work all day—she can’t no more lift those heavy tubs than an ant could.”

  “I hear tell that an ant can carry a hundred times its weight,” Ike replied.

  “A butterfly, then.”

  “Yes, she is more like a butterfly—pretty as can be.”

  Uncle Ike wasn’t helping matters any. Quill was more than aware of Mercy’s attributes—and how easy it would be to lose his heart to her. But he wouldn’t.