Mercy: Bride of Idaho (American Mail-Order Bride 43) (9 page)

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 knocked 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.

Quill scanned the camp until he found Mercy, who sat on a log with some of the others.  He couldn't tell what she was doing but he sure wanted to hold her close.  “That would depend on whether she wants to do the job.”

“I’m guessing she will.  Best you go ask her.”

Whip groaned and rubbed his shoulder.  “You could bring me some whiskey first.  Lots of it.”

“You go on, Quill.  I’ll get the coffin varnish,” Ike said.  “I’ll share it with Whip, too, on account of me and him bein’ such good friends and all.”

“Good of you to be so neighborly.”  Whip scowled at his old saddle partner. 

“I’ll let you two work that out.”  Quill headed off to talk to Jake.  Maybe she knew of another cook.

Half an hour later, not one soul in camp knew of a cook other than Mercy, so he had no choice but to ask her.

She stood and gazed straight into his soul.  “Are you sure you want me?”  Of course he wanted her, but what a man wanted and what he could have were two different things.  She looked so sincere, he could’ve kicked himself for keeping her at arm’s length.  But that was exactly where he had to keep her.

“If you could help out for a few days, I’d sure appreciate it.  Whip can’t do much but he can sit there and tell you how to do anything you don’t already know.  I’m sure Uncle Ike would be right there giving you bad advice, too.”

“I’m more than happy to help out, of course.”  She pushed up her sleeves.  “I’ll get to washing the dishes right now.”

“Thanks.”  He couldn’t help but brush a red lock from her cheek.  Her hair was so inviting, he wanted to run his fingers through it, but stepped back and cleared his throat.  “I’ll send Homer and Teddy to help you out with the heavy lifting.  Maybe Henry, too, if I can find her.”

“No doubt I’ll have something for them to do.  If Whip’s feeling all right, maybe he could tell me what he planned for tomorrow and I can get a head start on it.”

Plans.  Quill had one—to stay away from fire.  And Mercy was the hottest fire he’d ever seen.

*   *   *

They’d done it!  Mercy hugged both Ike and Whip, but then she stepped back.  “I didn’t hurt your arm, did I?”

“Naw, there ain’t a thing wrong with it other than old age.  We just made up that story.”

“It wasn’t a stretch,” Ike said.  “Whip’s dislocated his shoulder a few times and Quill knows it.”

“And I did tip over the dishwater, so we didn’t lie.”

She laughed.  “I guess you’d better give me a sourdough lesson.  We use regular yeast back home.”

The weather straightened up and the roundup camp buzzed with activity for the next week.  Mercy had never worked so hard in all her life, but she had fun.  Lobo liked to play tug-of-war and often ran off with her dishtowels in hopes for a good game.  Generally, one of the cowhands would retrieve it for her, usually after a merry chase.

Each dawn brought the fresh smell of sagebrush and the promise of a wonderful day.  She could hardly wait to get started with the morning meal, for she knew the cowhands appreciated her food and her smile, too. 

And she always tried to think of something different, such as one flapjack in the shape of a cat—whoever got it was awarded an extra dessert at supper—or other sorts of games.  The men teased her about such silliness, but they were always disappointed if she didn’t do something special.

She treasured all the compliments, and she made friends with several of the crew.  Jake’s boys, Homer and Teddy, helped her a lot on the days they were in camp.  The girl, Henry, stayed out on the range most of the time, taking after her adoptive mother.

If only Quill would come around more often.  She only saw him when he was standing in line, plate in hand, waiting for his turn to be served.  More often than not, he served her back with a look that melted her right down to her toes, but she tried not to let anyone, especially him, see how he affected her.

The day before they planned to pack up and go home, Sully stood in line just ahead of Quill.  As she dished a good-size hunk of roast beef onto his plate, he said, “How long are you going to wait around for the boss, anyway?  How about we get hitched when we get back to Henderson Flats?”

Quill growled, but didn’t react other than that, which disheartened Mercy just a bit.  “As long as it takes.”  Then when he put his plate out, she gave him a double portion.  “For good measure.”  She smiled. 

Quill didn’t.

Later, once the kettles were washed and she’d put everything away, Ike shuffled over, holding his back, which more than likely pained him.  “Sully’s right.  If my boneheaded nephews won’t see that you’re the best woman in the state, one of them other men will.  You’re free to marry anyone you want—you know I’d never hold you to a contract.”

“I signed it.”

“So did I, but you didn’t get what you came for and I don’t have it to offer.  So I’m offering you the choice of sticking around—you can stay in your rooms at the Circle ID as long as you want, for I like having you there—or I’ll give you the money for a train ticket to wherever you want to go.  But I hope you stay.”

“I love the Circle ID and especially the rooms you let me stay in.  If it’s all right with you, I’d just as soon give this a little more time.  Maybe I’ll set up a business in town, as Jake advised.  If my sister has bad luck with her groom, that would be especially wise.  And in that case, maybe she could stay with me until we’re able to make enough money to rent a room in Henderson.”

“You’re welcome to use the sewing machine, and to take it with you if you go.  We ain’t got no use for it and my Dora would’ve wanted you to have it.”

“Oh, thanks!”  She gave Ike a hug, and for once, she wasn’t the one who blushed.

Whip joined them, and wiped a smudge of flour off her cheek.  “I don’t s’pose you’re gonna give me one of those hugs.”

“You bet I am!”  One bear hug later, she said, “Thanks so much for fixing things so I could stay.”

“Woman, if I get thanked for setting on my butt, that’s a good day.  I’ll be sending my pay your way since you did all my work.”

“You needn’t do that.”

“Speaking of needin’, if that knucklehead doesn’t come around, you’re gonna need a few dollars, and you earned your keep.  So I’m paying.  Whether you use it or bury it in the backyard, ain’t none of my business.”

“I’m not a quitter.”

“You sure got that right.  Ain’t a man here who don’t admire your grit.”

Mercy was in a quandary.  The very sight of Quill made her heart flutter, and she’d grown to love him.  Not that she knew much about loving a man, but she did know that she ached to be near him. 

“He avoids me even when it involves going out of his way to do it.  Does that mean he has feelings for me but won’t admit it?”  She thought so. 

“Sure as shootin’,” Ike said. 

“No doubt about it,” Whip added.

Then Jake joined the group.  “Good havin’ you here, Mercy.  You’re a piece of work.”  She grinned, whacked Mercy on the arm, and headed for the remuda.

“There you go,” Whip said.  “Everyone thinks so—except Quill.”

“Quill what?” Harper asked as he walked up. 

“We all think Quill’s got a soft place for Mercy,” Ike said.

“That’s a fact.”  Harper laughed and sneaked a peek across camp at his cousin.  “She’s got that poor cuss in a terrible tangle.”

“Thank you, everyone.”  Considering the love she had for Quill, surely he returned at least a modicum of those feelings.  “I’ll be finishing my packing now.”

“That’s her secret code for ‘Get out of my way,’ so we better get to gettin’.”  Ike chuckled as he hobbled away, hauling Whip along with him.  Harper and Jake had already wandered off.

If only Quill could figure out her secret code...