Mercy: Bride of Idaho (American Mail-Order Bride 43) Read Online Free PDF Page A

coffee out in the barn.”
    The old man wanted to tell them something, and it appeared as though he didn’t want Miss Mercy to hear.  Might as well get it over with.  “I’ll be right back with Harp.”
    Ten minutes later, with Ike bellyaching about his rheumatiz and Harp nursing a hangover, the three men sat on benches in the barn, all swilling coffee.  Quill had brought the whole danged pot out since it sounded as if his uncle had some sort of proclamation he just had to get out at five in the morning.  Even Dog and Cat were still asleep.
    Uncle Ike took a flask from his jacket pocket and poured a dollop into his coffee.  “Damned rheumatiz.  Can’t hardly move right after I get up.  Generally, I just sit around until the parts start working again, but I need a little lubrication this morning.”
    Quill reckoned whatever the old man had to say, he likely wouldn’t want to know anyway, so he didn’t push his uncle to get on with it.  Harp sat hunched over his elbows on his knees, and rubbed his eyes.  He had too much twenty-one-year-old vinegar for his own danged good—at least he’d had it last night.  He didn’t look too good today after spending from Saturday afternoon to late Sunday night at the Silver Sage with his friends. 
    Quill slurped the scalding hot coffee and waited.
    Harp ran his fingers through his hair, as if that would do any good whatsoever, and blinked the blur from his eyes.  “Is this about roundup?  Because if it is, Quill has everything handled, and what he hasn’t done, Jake has.”
    “No, Harper, it ain’t about roundup.  I think you both know it’s about the woman, Miss Mercy Eaton.”
    “You sure do know how to pick a looker,” Harp said.
    “I didn’t know what she looked like for sure.  Her pa sent a small picture and I couldn’t tell much about her features, but I could tell she was a live one.  And that’s what I’m gonna tell you—what this here ranch needs is a woman.  We’ve got everything else—a nice spread, a decent herd, good solid buildings—but that don’t make a home.  A woman and kids make a home, and we haven’t had any young ’uns around here since Quill was a sprout.”
    Quill wanted to ask his uncle when he planned to marry the gal, and if it would be before or after roundup.  But he couldn’t bring himself to get the words out. 
    Luckily, his cousin had no such qualms.  “So when are you marrying her?”
    “Me?” Uncle Ike grinned.  “Hell, I’d be honored to have a woman like her but I’m too damned old.”
    Quill let out his breath.  At least his uncle hadn’t gone off the deep end for a woman less than a third his age.
    “I brought her out here for one of you two.” 
    “Us?” Quill and Harp chorused.  Quill saw that his cousin was equally hornswoggled. 
    “I have no intention of marrying anyone,” Quill said, while Harp sat there with his mouth open.  Quill had made up his mind a long time ago that women didn’t stick around.  His own mother had dumped him.  The only woman he ever courted took off with some gambler.  No other woman would get the chance to desert him—he’d make sure of that.
    Uncle Ike went on as if neither he nor Harp had said a word.  “The only thing I haven’t decided is whether to let her pick which one of you she wants to tame, or let the two of you decide which one is lucky enough to get her.  Either way, I want a baby around here by next year, on account of I ain’t gonna last much longer.”
    “I’m too young to get married,” Harp said, his voice sounding a mite on the shrill side.  The same Harper, Quill noted, who tooted his own horn about how grown up he was when he wanted to go out drinking and carousing.
    The two of them looked at Quill.  He held up both hands.  “Not me.  I’m not the marrying kind.  I’d a whole lot rather rent my women.”
    The old man flicked his gnarled hand at the both of them.  “She’s a beautiful little gal, and one of you two