Kate Wingo - Western Fire 01 Read Online Free PDF Page A

stock-still, listening. What she heard was a sound that she’d hoped to never hear again – pounding hooves. Dozens and dozens of them. Raising a hand, little Gabriel silently pointed to a cloud of dust that rose above the eastern ridge. Terrified, Mercy dropped her paper bag, nails spilling onto the ground.
    Bushwhackers! And the villainous fiends were galloping toward the farmstead.
    Recalling the last time that they’d been visited by Missouri bushwhackers, Mercy knew they had scant seconds to act.
    “Gabriel, go hide in the barn!”
    Surprisingly stoic, the child nodded his head before scurrying off as fast as his nine-year-old legs could carry him.
    Her expression frantic, Prudence peered at the approaching riders. “What are we to do?”
    Mercy turned to ward her sister, her own terror reflected in Pru’s periwinkle blue eyes. Incapable of full sentences, she could barely gasp out the words, “The horses! Neighbors! Quickly!”
    Like a bird in flight, Pru raced away, her long braids flapping against her backside. Mercy hazarded a glance at the charging gang of bushwhackers. She had little doubt that they were about to be accosted by the most dangerous men on earth.
    Heedless of propriety, she lifted her calico skirt and ran toward the house, her white drawers flashing in the early morning light.
    Too late!
    As she approached the farmhouse, a mob of armed horsemen galloped across the lawn yelling like banshees.
    “ Grab her!”
    Refusing to slow down, Mercy ran to the porch.
    “Mama! Mama!” she screamed, charging through the open front door. Knowing that her mother was upstairs, she took the steps two at a time, her long skirt billowing behind her.
    Reaching the second floor landing, she charged down the hall. Then, barely able to draw a ragged breath, she swung open the door to her mother’s bed chamber.
    Momentarily stunned, Mercy put a hand to her mouth, horrorstruck to see a bearded man forcefully trying to pull her mother’s gold wedding band off her finger. Helplessly lying on the bed, her mother turned to her, her face scored with fear.
    “Let her go, you fiend!” Enraged, Mercy hurled herself at the bandit, throwing her arms around his neck as she tried to pull him away from the bedside.
    Her valiant attack lasted mere seconds, the man easily yanking himself free. With a feral gleam in his eye s, the bearded bushwhacker then turned the tables on her, wrapping both of his arms around her, pinning her against his chest. Unwilling to surrender, Mercy kicked at his shins as she attempted to squirm free of his embrace. Hearing the commotion, several of his comrades ran into the room.
    “Hey, Ned . I think the little gal likes you.”
    Mercy immediately stopped struggling, her fear spiking.
    The man h olding her was none other than Bloody Ned Sykes! The devil incarnate. And if not the devil, then surely the most infamous bushwhacker of them all. Unable to help herself, Mercy stared into Ned Sykes’ pitiless gray eyes; eyes that betrayed the man for what he truly was – a cold-hearted killer.
    Much to her relief, Sykes removed his arms from around her torso.
    “What’s your name?” he asked, his liquor-laced breath hitting her full in the face.
    “Mer-Mercy Hibbert,” she sputtered.
    “Well now, Miss Mercy Hibbert, where are your menfolk?”
    “There are no men here.”
    Sykes’ gaze narrowed suspiciously. “You sure about that?”
    “As God is my witness.”
    “Heard those words a time or two. And sure enough if they don’t mean that there’s some skinny-assed varmint hiding in the corn crib.”
    “By all means, search the corn crib,” Mercy huffed, annoyance momentarily trumping her fear.
    “Lucky for you, I happen to like sassy women.”
    “Indeed.” Mercy wrinkled her nose, nauseated by the man’s fetid body odor. Out of the corner of her eye, she spied one of the other bushwhackers rummaging through her mother’s bureau. Clearly distraught, garbled words of protest fell from her