Mercy: Bride of Idaho (American Mail-Order Bride 43) (10 page)

Chapter 17

Sully and Mercy chattered happily on the ride home, and Quill had to hold down his mad.  For two cents, he’d knock that waddie off his horse.  Quill’s irritation was just another indicator of his own weakness for Mercy, even though he knew no woman had ever stayed around.  But maybe she would.

Or maybe she’d wait until she had his heart lassoed—maybe even after a kid or two—and then she’d leave.  That’d be a fine mess, raising two kids on his own, and the whole works.  Uncle Ike had done it without complaint.  He loved his Dora, and no other woman had ever turned his head.

Quill had a gut feeling that the same could be said about himself.  He hated that weakness, but hadn’t been able to shake it off.  If anything, he’d come to love Mercy a little more each day.  He wouldn’t admit it to a soul, though.

Jake rode up beside him—didn’t say anything, just rode.  That was fine, because he wasn’t in a talking mood.

After a mile or two, he wanted her opinion but he didn’t have any idea how to go about getting it without letting on. 

He cleared his throat and said, “Mercy seems to have taken a liking to Sully.”  Which stuck in his craw, but he didn’t mention that part.

Jake shrugged.  “That little gal seems to like everyone.”  She pulled up.  “Hang on.  I gotta change Scamp’s drawers.”

Instead of riding on, he stayed with Jake.  “And everyone seems to like her.”

“That’s right.  Including you.”

“I like her just fine.”  More than fine.  He wanted her in every way, and he wanted her something fierce.

“Good,” Jake said, “on account of I can see a bunch of little redheads raisin’ hell around the Circle ID.”

“No, you don’t.  I ain’t marrying anyone.  Not me.”

“You’re a fool, then.”

“Yep, a fool bachelor—till the day I die.”

“Seems like a sorry thing, to be alone your whole danged life.”  Jake buttoned up Scamp’s nightgown and wrapped him in his blanket.  “I don’t envy you one bit.”

“I’m not alone.  There’s Uncle Ike—”

“He’s getting on in years.”

“And Harp—”

“That boy’ll be married in no time, mark my words.  Women draw him like a gnat to a fresh cowpie.  Then he’ll have his own young ’uns to take care of and won’t pay you no two hoots nor a holler.”

“And the hired hands—”

“Until they ride on.”  Jake puffed her cheeks and blew out.  “Quill, ain’t nothing better than knowing you have someone special waiting for you after a hard day’s work.  And women don’t come much more special than Mercy.  That’s all I’m gonna say about it.”  She rode off and joined the Bar EL outfit.

Quill hadn’t been this balled up since his mother dumped him off at the Circle ID when he was eleven years old.

*   *   *

Mercy rode Jake’s bay gelding alongside the wagon. “Are we close to home?” she asked Ike, who sat on the wagon with Whip.

“Yep, just a few more miles.  Whip, gimme another snort of that rotgut,” Ike said.  “My rheumatiz is paining me something awful.”

“Might you oughtta stay home next roundup.”  Whip handed the bottle to Ike, who took a good long pull. 

“Same with you, old man.”

“Been thinking about that,” Whip said.  “I expect Ray Fletcher would make a right good camp cook this fall.”

“How about me?” Mercy asked.  “I know how now.”

“You done a good job, too,” Whip said.  “Long as you got someone to fetch and carry for you, bein’s you’re such a little thing.  The men sure liked your little treats.”

“Think Quill would let me cook this fall?”

“Ain’t Quill’s decision.  He runs the spring roundup—Jake runs the fall roundup.”

Mercy grinned, because she knew without a doubt that Jake would say yes.  “I’ll ask her, then.”

Less than an hour later, they rode into the barnyard.  Mercy slid off her saddle, tired to the bone.  She could’ve kissed the ground, she was so happy to be back.  Her legs felt bowed and her back ached.  She led her horse to the barn nearest the tack room and wrapped the reins around the hitching rail. 

“Go on in the house, Mercy,” Quill said.  “I’ll take care of your horse for you.”

She wasn’t about to argue.  “Thank you!”  She gave him a hug, then realized her error and sprang back.  “Oh, I’m sorry!” 

Chastising herself for her forwardness, she made for the house, embarrassed to even look back at him.  With luck, Ray had the water on to heat, for she needed a bath in the worst way.  A bath and a comfortable bed.  But it was great to be back—she loved the Circle ID.  And one particular man who lived there.

Ray did have hot water—he carried two buckets and she carried one upstairs.  The second he left, she peeled off her clothes, threw some rose petals in the tub, and stepped into the hot bath.  After two weeks of spit baths, it was the most wonderful moment of her life.  She scrubbed her hair twice, rinsed it, and conditioned with vinegar and egg white.  Once that was rinsed, her water was cold and she got out.

Refreshed, she resolved to do whatever it took to make Quill love her as much as she loved him.  Starting with supper.

She pulled her bangs back but let the rest of her hair fall loose, since she’d always received more compliments on her hair than anything else.  Might as well use every weapon in her arsenal.  With a few nips and tucks, she lowered the neckline of her green calico dress, thankful that she’d learned to sew fast and well. 

When nearly time for supper, she laced up her corset and gave it an extra tug.  A thinner waist would emphasize her bosom and bustle.  But it took her extra time and several hard tugs because she hadn’t worn a corset during the roundup, and she had a devil of a time getting it laced tightly enough.  When she finally did, she couldn’t get a deep breath, but that would right itself soon.

After subtly darkening her lashes just a bit, she headed for the kitchen with her best tablecloth and napkins onto which Patience had embroidered hearts.  She’d help Ray set the table and such. 

By the time she got down the stairs, her air was gone and instead of prettying up the table, she had to sit a minute.

“You look purty as a sunflower.  What you got there?” Ray asked.

“My best linens.  I thought Quill might like a nice table setting after roughing it at the roundup the last few weeks.”

Ray looked skeptical.  “Suit yourself.  I’ll leave the food on the stove until you’re ready.”

“Do I have time to mix up a batch of cookies?”  Her brothers loved cookies and men were just overgrown boys, so she reckoned they’d all enjoy a sweet treat.  Quill wouldn’t forget this meal for a long, long time if she had anything to do with it.

“Nope, but I have a pie in the oven, so your man won’t have to go without dessert.  How about I take my meal to my room—say I’m ailing or some such—and you can serve up?”

“Or better yet, I can invite Quill to the parlor and we can eat alone there.”  Her face flushed hot.  “He’s, um, not my man.  Yet.”

“He is—he just don’t know it. Yet.”  Ray dried off his hands and tossed the towel onto his shoulder.  “Dora bought a walnut table for the parlor—that’ll do for two.  Take your linens in there and I’ll help you get it situated.”

“Do you think Ike will mind?  I don’t think the parlor’s been used for years.”

“He won’t mind a bit.  In fact, I think he’d like it.  Now, let’s get busy.”

*   *   *

Quill gave his horse a thorough rub down, a job that didn’t occupy his mind enough to get thoughts of Mercy out.  He couldn’t bear it any longer.  Whether she left him or not, he had to take the risk.  After supper, he’d get her alone and propose marriage. 

The thought made his palms sweat, but the vision of that red hair cascading over her naked body enticed him more—and her sunshine smile.  He’d always remember her beautiful smile, so bright that it made everyone, including him, happy just being near her. 

Yep, he had to do it.  Tonight.

When the dinner bell rang, he tossed the brushes into the box and took off his shirt, then doused himself good in the horse trough, even though it was a mite cold.  He took a relatively clean shirt out of his saddlebags and put it on.  It wasn’t much better so he finger-combed his hair, and went in the house.

“I’ll be down in a minute,” he told Ray.  “Got some hot water?” 

Ray didn’t look up from frying the steaks, just pointed at the stove’s reservoir.  “Get a bucket.”

Ike and Harp sat at the table, but he didn’t see Mercy, which was just as well until he changed into some sweeter-smelling clothes.  Upstairs in his room, he stripped bare and washed as well as he could, brushed his teeth, and shaved.  He put on his town clothes, bein’s they were the only clean ones he had.

His stomach rumbled by the time he got ready.  Downstairs, Ray hadn’t put a plate at his spot on the table.

“You’re eating in the parlor tonight,” Uncle Ike said.  “With Mercy.  And don’t you put up a fuss.  She went to a lot of trouble.”

Good, then maybe she wouldn’t say no to his proposal. 

“All right,” Quill said to his uncle, and headed straight to the room he hadn’t set foot in over a dozen times since he’d lived in the house.  It felt strange going in, especially since he knew what they all wanted—what he wanted.

“Hello, Quill.”  Mercy wore the same pretty blue dress she’d worn at the party, her red hair loose, floating over her shoulders.  So touchable, yet not, because she wasn’t his.  But maybe she would be.  “Have a seat at the table.  Ray said he’d bring in our food, but I have coffee here for us.”

“I have something to ask you first.”

“All right.”

“Um, maybe we better sit down.  You can pour us some of that coffee.”  As she poured, he said, “You sure look pretty tonight.”

“Thanks.  It’s the only nice dress I have, and after the roundup, I thought it would be nice to dress up.”

That disappointed him, for he’d hoped she’d worn it just for him.  “Same here.”  Maybe he shouldn’t propose.  “Now that you’ve seen the cattle operation, what do you think of it?”

“Is that the big question?”

He took a sip of coffee to give himself time to think of something to say back.  “It’s a start.”

“I found it fascinating—hard work, too,” she said.  “In the city, we have no idea how much effort it takes to get a steak on the table.  But I also thought it was fun, and I’m so glad I went.  I’d love to go again.”

That was the opening he needed.  Now, for the Big Question...

Ray came in carrying a platter of steaks and a bowl of gravy.  “Back with the spuds and bread in a minute,” he said as he placed the meat in the center of the table.

“I expect we should get married.”  Quill said it in a hurry, else the words would get stuck in his throat.

“I expect so.”

Not the romantic reaction he wanted, but she was contracted to marry Uncle Ike, all so he could match her up with Quill or his cousin.  And so it was.

“I’ll let my uncle know.  We might as well get married this weekend.”

“Might as well.  Jake can be my matron of honor.  Who’ll you get for best man—Harper?”

“Dog.”

“Your dog?”  She shrugged.  “Man’s best friend and all that.  I named him Lobo.”

He had no idea why she’d do such a thing.  “What was wrong with Dog?”

“Which dog?”

“My dog, Dog.”

“Same thing that’s wrong with Inky.”

“Who?”

“Your cat, Cat.”

“That’s confusing.”

“Not if you call them Lobo and Inky.”

“I suppose you’re gonna rename Horse, too.”

“I think you should kiss me.”  She blushed and lowered her gaze.  “Isn’t that what engaged couples do?”

Quill didn’t need a second invitation.  He was up and out of his chair in a heartbeat, and pulled Mercy to her feet.  “You look beautiful in that dress.  And in your britches.”  He kissed her forehead.  “And I bet, in nothing at all.”

She tipped her head back and he lowered his, but as their lips met, Ray came in with a bowl of mashed potatoes.

“Even sprinkled a little dried parsley on for color,” he said as he placed the bowl on the table.  “You two better sit down and eat.  There’ll be enough time for such business after you’ve said your vows.”

Quill calmed himself, seated Mercy, and sat across from her.  “We should get married in the morning.”

“Not enough time to plan a wedding party.”

He stood, thinking more of a party of two, and closed the door.

“Mercy, I want to kiss you.”

She got up and looked him right in the eye.  “Then do it.”

How he wanted to—and more.  But he knew he’d made a big mistake.  “Can’t.”

“Can’t?  Or won’t?”

“Won’t.  Not until you guarantee you won’t leave me.”

“Why on earth would you even think I’d do such a thing?”

“Because then you’ll be tied down, and once the newness of the ranch wears off, you’ll want to leave, so you might as well leave now and get on with your life, wherever you end up.”