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

owlhoots is gonna marry her and make her a happy woman.”  He took another drink of his whiskey-laced coffee.
    Quill didn’t know whether to be relieved that his uncle wouldn’t be marrying Mercy, or pissed that he expected Quill or Harp to cave in to his wishes.  Quill had a ranch to run and Harp had wild oats to sew.  Wedded bliss wasn’t in the cards for either cousin, especially now, and Uncle Ike knew it.  The old man must have eaten some loco weed.
    Harp shrugged.  “She looks happy as a spring filly in a field of dandelions already.”
    “Mark my words, whoever wins her will be even happier,” Uncle Ike said.  “We’ll see which one of you gets lucky.  I expect you both to show her proper respect at the party next Friday.  She won’t know a soul and you can imagine how you’d feel under those same circumstances, so introduce her around and include her in the fun.  As far as I’m concerned, she’s already a member of the family.”
    “That won’t be no hardship.”  Harp stood and stretched his back.  “I best get my chores done.  Miss Mercy needs to go to the store and buy some material for her party dress.  I reckon if we leave by seven, we’ll get there about the time the store opens.”
    “She can have anything she wants, and tell Tresa to put it on the Circle ID tab.” 
    Tresa Hiatt owned the store, and had coddled Quill for years.  When his mother had first dumped him off at Henderson Flats, Old Lady Hiatt used to sneak licorice whips to him when Uncle Ike wasn’t looking.
    After Harp left, Quill reminded his uncle that Miss Mercy thought she’d be marrying him. 
    “Don’t you worry about that—I’ll set her straight.  Just be your charming self at the party.”
    Quill scowled and made up his mind to be gone all week as much as possible—especially during the blasted party.  He hated parties anyway, far preferring to ride out on the range and tend the cows.  If he wanted a drink, he’d buy a jug.  If he wanted a woman, he’d rent one at the Silver Sage.
    The roundup started in a few days and he had plenty of work to keep him busy until then, so he wouldn’t have to deal with his uncle’s matchmaking for the next month, at least.  By then, maybe Uncle Ike would find some sense.
    But Quill couldn’t help thinking about Miss Mercy Eaton.  She was sure as hell easy on the eyes.
    *   *   *
    Mercy rose early and dressed, then took paper and pencil from her reticule and commenced to writing a letter to her sister.  She’d promised Patience that she’d write as soon as possible, and since she was going to town, it had to be done now so the letter could be mailed.
    Only thing was, she couldn’t get the words out.  She couldn’t tell Patience of the unhappy situation—after all, there were several wonderful aspects of this adventure, the best being her bedroom suite.  So, to prevent Patience from rushing to Idaho to save her, Mercy told of the wonderful house, embellishing it a bit, the party and her plans to get material for a dress, and that Isaac Fairchild seemed to be a very nice man.
    None of that was a lie.  Isaac Fairchild had endeared himself to her in a way, even though she also felt slightly betrayed.  But she wouldn’t dwell on such things.  After finishing her short letter to Patience, she addressed the envelope and tucked it away to be mailed in Henderson Flats.
    By the time she got downstairs, Ray was busily dishing up the biggest breakfast she’d ever seen in her life.  The aroma of bacon filled the whole house—she’d been salivating for fifteen minutes already.  He’d baked biscuits, fried potatoes, scrambled a gallon of eggs, and made another gallon of gravy.
    “You were right about no leftovers,” she said.  “Those men can sure eat.”
    “Yep, they’ll be here in a minute, so you might as well set yourself down and have a cup of coffee while you wait.”
    “How about I help you?”
    “All done.  And after you eat, Harp’s