Read Online Mercy: Bride of Idaho (American Mail-Order Bride 43) by Jacquie Rogers - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Jacquie Rogers
Tags: Fiction, Romance, Historical, Saga, Family Life, Western, Short-Story, Religious, Christian, Inspirational, Bachelor, Marriage of Convenience, Faith, rancher, Past Issues, Idaho, matchmaking, victorian era, Forever Love, Single Woman, Charade, groom, Fifty-Books, Forty-Five Authors, Newspaper Ad, American Mail-Order Bride, Factory Burned, Pioneer, distrust, Uncle, Forty-Third In Series, Owyhee County, Seventy-Years-Old, Fireball, Mistaken
Ads: Link
hurt just before roundup. Every man needed to be in one piece and ready to ride day after tomorrow. So he galloped his horse to the barn door, where one man flew out right before Horse’s nose and scared him. He reared and Quill reined him to the left so the horse’s hooves wouldn’t stomp the man who lay in the dirt.
Quill jumped off and flipped the reins over the hitching post, then dashed into the fracas. Jake was holding her own with a couple men, even with a baby in the crook of her left arm. Ben had her back, taking on a few himself. Not bad for a Boston lawyer. Uncle Ike had climbed the harness wall and walloped anyone who came near with a riding quirt.
In case the old man had more fire than good sense, Quill made his way to his uncle to get him out of there before he got clouted upside the head with a plate.
When Ike saw him, he grinned. “Helluva fight!”
“You all right?”
“Yep, but you better get Mercy the hell out of there before someone tramples her. She took a likin’ to that pretty pink punch.”
Shit on a shingle! She’d been drinking Uncle Ike’s lemonade brandy. “Where is she?”
“Last I saw, right square in the middle. You’re gonna have to fight your way in to fetch her, and likely fight your way out.”
“Be back in a minute.”
Uncle Ike hooted. “Best damned fight I’ve seen in ten years!” He snapped the quirt at a brawler who came too close. “It’s all in the wrist.”
Quill saw Harp in the back of the barn, giving a little better than he was getting, so Quill didn’t worry about him. For now, he had to get Miss Mercy out of this mess before she got hurt. He’d seen her right off—vivid blue dress and radiant red hair—not exactly easy to miss.
She stood wide-eyed with her mouth agape and her hands clasped over her lovely breasts. Cat yowled and took a vicious swipe at a man who came too near her. Dog barked his fool head off and hopped around, having a good old time. Quill took a hit in the ribs, so he turned to one side and decked the unfortunate soul, then plowed into the ruckus, knocking fighters this way and that, until he got to Miss Mercy.
Without a word, he snagged her by the waist and tossed her over his shoulder. He held the back of her thighs with his left arm and fought with his right. Since the rear of the barn was closer, he headed that direction. Uncle Ike could hold his own—he seemed to be having as good a time as Cat was.
Someone’s fist landed on his ribs. Same damned place. But then Miss Mercy bashed the cowhand over the head with her punch glass. The Circle ID cowhand rubbed his head and when he caught Quill’s glare, said, “Sorry, boss.”
Quill saw an opening and charged through it, then ducked into a small room where they kept feed for the milk cows.
Miss Mercy giggled as he laid her on the pile of hay, but she didn’t let go of his neck and pulled him on top of her. “Oh, my! Is this what they call a roll in the hay?” She giggled again. “And with the charming prince, too—tall, dark, and handsome.”
She got the dark part right since there was little light, but he saw the gleam in her eyes and all he could picture in his mind was her full lips ripe for kissing, and her delectable cleavage that made a man itch to cup her bosom. His lower parts ached with need and he groaned.
But she was drunk. And not for him. Especially not now. He pulled her arms from his neck and held them to her sides. He bet she had no idea how much of a temptation she was.
“You stay here, sugar.” He pushed himself up. “I’ll be back in ten minutes to take you in the house.”
“Where are you going?”
“This prince is about to rescue his crazy uncle.”
But mostly, Quill needed to rescue himself.
Chapter 9
Sunday morning, Quill got up before first light. The calmness of the cool spring morning belied the commotion that would take place just as soon
Quill jumped off and flipped the reins over the hitching post, then dashed into the fracas. Jake was holding her own with a couple men, even with a baby in the crook of her left arm. Ben had her back, taking on a few himself. Not bad for a Boston lawyer. Uncle Ike had climbed the harness wall and walloped anyone who came near with a riding quirt.
In case the old man had more fire than good sense, Quill made his way to his uncle to get him out of there before he got clouted upside the head with a plate.
When Ike saw him, he grinned. “Helluva fight!”
“You all right?”
“Yep, but you better get Mercy the hell out of there before someone tramples her. She took a likin’ to that pretty pink punch.”
Shit on a shingle! She’d been drinking Uncle Ike’s lemonade brandy. “Where is she?”
“Last I saw, right square in the middle. You’re gonna have to fight your way in to fetch her, and likely fight your way out.”
“Be back in a minute.”
Uncle Ike hooted. “Best damned fight I’ve seen in ten years!” He snapped the quirt at a brawler who came too close. “It’s all in the wrist.”
Quill saw Harp in the back of the barn, giving a little better than he was getting, so Quill didn’t worry about him. For now, he had to get Miss Mercy out of this mess before she got hurt. He’d seen her right off—vivid blue dress and radiant red hair—not exactly easy to miss.
She stood wide-eyed with her mouth agape and her hands clasped over her lovely breasts. Cat yowled and took a vicious swipe at a man who came too near her. Dog barked his fool head off and hopped around, having a good old time. Quill took a hit in the ribs, so he turned to one side and decked the unfortunate soul, then plowed into the ruckus, knocking fighters this way and that, until he got to Miss Mercy.
Without a word, he snagged her by the waist and tossed her over his shoulder. He held the back of her thighs with his left arm and fought with his right. Since the rear of the barn was closer, he headed that direction. Uncle Ike could hold his own—he seemed to be having as good a time as Cat was.
Someone’s fist landed on his ribs. Same damned place. But then Miss Mercy bashed the cowhand over the head with her punch glass. The Circle ID cowhand rubbed his head and when he caught Quill’s glare, said, “Sorry, boss.”
Quill saw an opening and charged through it, then ducked into a small room where they kept feed for the milk cows.
Miss Mercy giggled as he laid her on the pile of hay, but she didn’t let go of his neck and pulled him on top of her. “Oh, my! Is this what they call a roll in the hay?” She giggled again. “And with the charming prince, too—tall, dark, and handsome.”
She got the dark part right since there was little light, but he saw the gleam in her eyes and all he could picture in his mind was her full lips ripe for kissing, and her delectable cleavage that made a man itch to cup her bosom. His lower parts ached with need and he groaned.
But she was drunk. And not for him. Especially not now. He pulled her arms from his neck and held them to her sides. He bet she had no idea how much of a temptation she was.
“You stay here, sugar.” He pushed himself up. “I’ll be back in ten minutes to take you in the house.”
“Where are you going?”
“This prince is about to rescue his crazy uncle.”
But mostly, Quill needed to rescue himself.
Chapter 9
Sunday morning, Quill got up before first light. The calmness of the cool spring morning belied the commotion that would take place just as soon
Similar Books
