Kate Wingo - Western Fire 01 (34 page)

I hope to God that
it’s not the latter
.

Not wanting to
put off his confession one second longer, Spence took a deep, fortifying breath before plunging right in.

“You were right.”

“About what?” Mercy asked somewhat absently, her attention still focused on the horizon.

“About my using you to bait Maddox.” At hearing that, Mercy spun around to fac
e him. While the subject was a contentious one, at least Spence now had her undivided attention. “Only a low-down son of a—”

“You were driven by grief,”
Mercy avowed, much to his surprise.

“That’s not all I was driven by.”
Spence knew that most of what he’d done over the last eight years had been fueled by hatred, pure and simple. And it wasn’t anything that he wanted bragging rights to.

“While I may not have out-and-out lied to you, Mercy, I did keep the truth from you
. Which amounts to the same thing. I wanted Maddox and I used you to help me snare him. I admit that my intentions weren’t very honorable in the beginning. But then, somewhere along the line, I . . . well, my feelings for you began to change and—” Ill-at-ease, Spence ran a hand through his hair.

Hearing the note of frustration in Spencer’s voice,
Mercy kept silent. It wasn’t her place to put words into his mouth. Whatever it was that he had to say, it was important that he convey it in his own way, at his own pace.

“What I’m trying to tell you is that being with you has turned me into a different man . . .
a better man,” Spencer clarified. “After what happened today, I realized that tracking down Luther Maddox just wasn’t as important as it used to be.”

“It was important enough for you to use an innocent child to lure him here so that you could wreak your vengeance.”

“Damn it! I let Maddox ago, didn’t I? What more do you want from me?”

As
Mercy stared at Spencer McCabe, her right hand unconsciously moved to her lower belly. “I want it to be over, Spencer. The killing, the revenge . . . I just want it all to go away.”

“How about me, Mercy? Do you want me to go away, as well?”

Not sure what she wanted, Mercy ignored the question. Instead, she asked one of her own. “If what happened earlier today
hadn’t
occurred, would you still feel the need to hunt down Luther Maddox?”

“More than likely.”

Spencer’s quietly spoken admission was like a well-aimed shot to the heart. Too late, Mercy wished that she’d not asked such a damning question. Since there was no point in continuing the conversation, she gathered her skirt in her hand. Without a word of farewell, she turned around and started back to the house.

She’d taken no more than a step when Spencer grabbed her by the wrist, gently forcing her to turn and face him.

“But luckily for me, Miss Hibbert, you were here earlier today.” To Mercy’s astonishment, Spencer grinned. “And, as usual, you made me see the error of my ways.”

“You make me sound like a harpy,”
Mercy grumbled, Spencer’s last remark none too flattering.

“I wasn’t complaining
. Honest. I’m grateful that you were able to shed some much needed light on the situation.”

“Well, you certainly didn’t appear grateful at the time.”

Spencer’s expression sobered considerably. “My being grateful didn’t come until later when . . . when I happened upon Maddox’s corpse. And, no, I didn’t kill him,” he was quick to add when he heard Mercy’s shocked gasp. “Seeing him lying dead in the middle of the road . . . all of a sudden I knew what is was that you saved me from. You saved me from myself. And all the hatred that I’ve had corked inside of me for so long.”

“For your own sake, I
sincerely hope that you can find a way to uncork those dark memories.”

Spencer nodded
solemnly. “I think I have.” He raised a hand, his fingers tenderly grazing her cheek.

A few seconds later
, his hand fell away from her as his brows drew together. It made Mercy think that Spencer was pondering some sudden, unwelcome thought.

“Do you want to know
what aggravated me the most about seeing that corpse? It’s that I stood over that dead man’s body and didn’t feel a damn thing.” Clearly disheartened, Spencer slowly shook his head. “You were right, all along. I’m no better than the monster I wanted to kill.”

“That’s not true,” Mercy
asserted as she placed her hand over Spencer’s heart. “There’s so much goodness inside of you. Surely, you must know that.”

Her declaration met with a harsh laugh; one that was devoid of all humor.
“Believe me, if there’s any goodness in this mean old heart of mine, it’s because you put it there.”

Unwilling to surrender the point, Mercy adamantly shook her head. “You were always good of heart
, Spencer.
Always
.”

How could he possibly think otherwise?
What other man would have risked his life, time and time again, to keep her and her family safe from harm? And it was because of that innate goodness that Spencer was
finally
able to come to terms with his past.

Now there was only the future to contend with
.

And to Mercy’s
dread, it loomed on the horizon, vast and uncertain.

As the silent seconds slipped past, Spence stared into the luminous blue eyes that he’d come to love. Maybe he hadn’t always walked a straight path
. But if Mercy agreed to take him back, he’d do right by her. Here. Now.
Forever
.

“I love you, Mercy Hibbert. So help me God, I love you more than I ever thought it possible for a man to love a woman.” When Spence saw
Mercy’s blue eyes fill with tears, he took it as a good sign. Encouraged, he continued and said, “And I thank the Good Lord for sending me such a sweet angel. I meant what I said earlier –” he paused, momentarily losing himself in the watery pools of Mercy’s eyes – “you make me want to be a better man.”

Inclining his head, Spence brushed his lips across Mercy’s forehead.

“You also make me want to be a good father,” he murmured, his lips inching their way to her mouth. “Not to mention, a loving husband.
Very loving
,” Spence added as he brushed his lips across hers.

Mercy
jerked her head away from him. “Might I point out that to be a husband, one must first be a groom,” she said in a peevish tone of voice.

Although Spence tried hard to keep his amusement at bay, his lips
curved into a smile. “Gosh, honey. Are you popping the question? You know, here in Missouri it’s usually the man who does the proposing.”

“And in Kansas, the prospective bride and groom wait until
after
the ceremony to consummate the marriage,” Mercy snipped.

Spence’s eyes opened wide in mock surprise. “Well, now, if that don’t beat all.” Wrapping his arms around her
shoulders, Spence nuzzled his lips against Mercy’s neck. “Don’t you worry, pretty lady. I have every intention of taking you for my bride. Why, with a little arm twisting, I bet we can convince the good Reverend Witherspoon to ride on over here tomorrow and—”

Mercy squirmed out of his embrace. “Actually, I was hoping
that we could wait a few weeks.”

“A few weeks!” Spence
adamantly shook his head, letting Mercy know what he thought of
that
idea. “No woman of mine is going to wear her apron high without a ring on her finger.”

“I’m won’t be wearing my apron high
. At least not for several months anyway.”

Hit with a
sudden, uneasy thought, Spence said, “You’re not having a change of heart, are you?”

Mercy
rewarded him one of those holier-than-thou looks that he’d come to love. “Most certainly not! I can’t think of anyone whom I’d rather marry.”

“Good,”
Spence growled, momentarily appeased. “So, if it’s not too much trouble,
Miss
Hibbert, do you mind telling me why you’re so keen on postponing the ceremony.”

“I want Benjamin to be here.”

“
Who
?”

“My brother Ben. You may recall that you returned his and Ethan’s daguerreot
ype after Kid Mooney stole it.”

“Yeah, I remember. He’s the older brother with the dark hair, isn’t he?”

“Yes . . . yes, he is.”

A poignant silence
ensued, neither of them mentioning that it was the younger, fair-haired brother who’d recently been killed in battle. Mercy pushed the morose thought to the back of her mind, not wanting sadness to undermine their joy.

“Actually, Ben is my half-brother,” she explained. “Mama was widowed when she married Papa and
—”

“Ben is her son from the earlier marriage.”

Mercy nodded. “That’s why Ben’s last name is Strong and my last name is. . . .” Her voice drifted; there was no point in stating the obvious. “Despite the fact that there’s a fifteen year age difference between us, I’ve always felt particularly close to Ben and . . . and I would very much like for him to be present at my wedding.”

“Unless he sprouts wings and learns to fly, it’s not going to be soon enough to suit me.”

Purposely ignoring Spencer’s last remark, Mercy said, “I drafted a letter to Ben earlier today. With the war now over, he should be here soon enough. Not only do I want to marry you in the sight of God, but I want us to wed with the full blessing of our entire family.” She reached for Spencer’s hand, cradling it against her chest. “Please, Spencer. It would mean so much to me.”

“Okay,
I’m willing to wait for him.” One side of Spencer’s mouth lifted in an amused grin. “But I don’t know how the rest of the family is going to take the news that we have to postpone the wedding until some Yankee comes home from the war.”

Mercy couldn’t help but smile
. Through a strange twist of fate, the Hibberts and the McCabes had become a family. Somehow, it seemed fitting that North and South should meet this way; and that their shattered families should come together as one.

“Thank you, Spencer.” Then,
with a teasing glimmer in her eyes, she said, “See? I told you that you were a good man.”

“For your sake, I’m
willing to look on the bright side,” he good-naturedly grumbled. “This delay will give you time to rustle up a proper wedding gown.”

Mercy’s fingers plucked at the black taffeta skirt
that she wore. “This is a bit dreary, isn’t it? Although –” both her chin and her voice dropped several notches – “given the circumstances, I don’t have a right to wear a white gown.”

Spencer grasped
Mercy’s chin between his fingers. “Hey, now, don’t you feel guilty about that. It was the love that I found in your arms that made me want to turn my life around.”

“
I do love you, Spencer McCabe, with all of my heart.”

Spence savored the sound, and more importantly, the meaning of those sweet words.

“And I need you more than anything,” Mercy added a few seconds later.

“Well, honey, you’ve got me,” Spence informed her, grinning broadly.

A wanton light glimmered in Mercy’s eyes. “But I want
all
of you.”

“Fire and ice, that’s what you are, Miss Mercy Hibbert. All prim and proper on the outside
; all hot and fiery on the inside.”

“Only for you, Spencer.
Only for you
.”

When
, in the next instant, Mercy stepped into his open arms, Spencer McCabe breathed a deep, full-hearted sigh of contentment, unable to check the tears that ran down his face.

After eight long years, he’d finally come home.

Late May, 1865

“Damn, if you aren’t a thing of beauty. Makes me want to gobble you up in one big bite.”

Busy pruning a gnarled branch, the man’s lusty declaration caught Mercy off guard. As fate would have it, she and the interloper were alone in the apple orchard, not so much as a playful squirrel lurking
in the vicinity.

“May I will remind you
, Mister McCabe, that you solemnly promised to refrain from making profane and unseemly utterances.”

“In public.”

Mercy frowned at Spencer’s glib postscript.

Paying her ire no heed, Spencer slun
g an arm around Mercy’s shoulders. “Besides, ‘dang’ just doesn’t have the same ring to it. When a man pays homage to the woman he loves, he should do so with a full measure of manly conviction.”

At hearing that, Mercy’s frown faded, circumvented with a
teasing smile. “Really, Mister McCabe! I don’t know whatever possessed me to fall in love with you.”

Returning the smile, Spencer took the pruning knife from her hands
and tossed it to the ground. “Maybe this had something to do with it.” Without further ado, he kissed Mercy, his lips and tongue leisurely exploring the perimeter of her mouth, in turn sucking, then licking, coaxing a response from her.

“That might have had something to do with it,” Mercy whispered
breathlessly when the kiss finally ended.

“Or maybe
this
is the reason why you fell in love with me.” Cupping her breasts, Spencer strummed his thumbs back and forth across her nipples. With a knowing smile, he gently pinched the protruding knots, plucking them into tender readiness.

Nearly undone, Mercy swayed
slightly, her legs threatening to buckle beneath her.

“If you must know, I fell in love with you for all
of those reasons. And
more
,” she murmured as she grabbed his shoulders to steady herself.

Spence
r’s hands roamed down her backside, possessively settling on her derriere. “Wanna fill me in on the ‘more’ part? Then afterwards, I can return the favor and fill you in. Hmm?”

F
earful that the love play had gone too far, Mercy wiggled out of his grasp.

Clearly f
rustrated, Spencer batted a low-hanging tree limb. “For the life of me, I don’t understand why you won’t let me love up on you.”

“I told you, Spencer. It’s not proper for us to be sneaking around, making love under trees and behind hedges. I want to be a
real
bride.”

“Aw, come on, honey.
” Reaching for her, Spencer anchored a hand on her lower belly, a pleading look on his face. “It doesn’t get any more real than
this
.”

“Which is precisely why we must wait until
after
the nuptials.”

“I
telling you true: I don’t know how much longer I can hold off.”

Glancing at
his swollen groin, Mercy nervously bit down on her lower lip, not certain she had any more restraint left than he did. While he’d not said the words aloud, she knew Spencer considered his forced celibacy a punishment of sorts. If that was true, then it was a punishment for her, as well. However, given that they now lived under the same roof with their conjoined families, Mercy was adamant that they
not
share a bed until they were properly wed . . . although she’d come perilously close to changing her mind on several memorable occasions.

“But, Spencer, think how wonderful it will be to share a wedding bed once we’re finally married.”

“Lord Almighty. That’s the
last
thing I should be thinking about,” Spencer groaned as he wrapped Mercy in his arms.

“Yes, I suppose
that—

“
Step away from the lady!
Now!
Before I unload this revolver into your nether parts!”

Hearing that
low-voiced threat, Spence quickly pivoted so that he could protectively shield Mercy. Enraged that he’d been caught short, he glared at the tall stranger uniformed in Union blue. Noting the unyielding determination in the Yankee’s unblinking gaze, not to mention the Colt revolver clutched in his right hand, Spence knew the man meant business. And just his bad luck, he’d left his gun belt back at the house.

“Who the merry hell might you be?” Spence bellowed, vows of curbing his tongue
instantly forgotten.

Mercy stepped around him, h
er hand clutched to her heart. “
Ben?
Is it
really
you? Why, I barely recognize you.”

Before Spence could stop her, Mercy threw herself into the Yankee’s arms, oblivious to the fact that the man still held a cocked, loaded pistol in his hand. Her brother, if that’s who the man truly
was, seemed taken aback to suddenly find himself on the receiving end of Mercy’s near-hysterical affections.

As far as Spence could tell, the
menacing Yankee – Mercy’s
supposed
brother – didn’t look a damned thing like the soldier in the daguerreotype that he’d seen back at the Hibbert farm. According to Mercy, her brother was in his thirties, too young to have so much salt in his hair. This man, steely-eyed and honed sharp, looked like a gray mountain wolf primed to attack.

Hell, maybe that’s what four years of warfare did to a man. Self-consciously, Spence ran a hand over his jaw, wondering how much
he had
changed since the summer of ‘61.

“Oh, Ben, I can’t believe it’s really you!” Mercy grabbed her brother’s arm with one hand
while with the other she ecstatically patted the front of his officer’s tunic. “Look, Spencer. It’s Benjamin!”

A wry smile worked its way onto Spence’s lips. “So, I see.” Still smiling, he thrust out his right hand, hoping the other man would take the hint and holster his sidearm. “I’m Spencer McCabe. We’ve all been worried as hell about you. Glad you made it home in one piece.”

And not a minute too soon
. All he had to do now was send for the preacher.

Benjamin Strong
silently took Spence’s measure, a wintry expression on his sun-bronzed face. Then, slipping the Colt pistol into his holster, he extended his right arm and shook hands.

“Sorry about pulling a revolver on you. It’s an old habit
that I’m having trouble breaking free of.”

Yeah,
aren’t we all?

Thinking it best to let the matter drop, Spence clapped his soon to be brother-in-law on the shoulder. “Hey, how about coming up to the house and meeting the rest of the family? Lydia ought to be putting supper on the table any
minute now.”

“Fine. Just let me get my horse.” Nodding at his sister and her fiancé, Ben
Strong walked over to his tethered black stallion. The horse had been a regimental gift when he earned his captain’s bars, and as such was probably the only good thing that had happened to him during four grueling years of army life.

Leading the horse by the reins, Ben glanced at his sister. From the way
that she kept looking at the tall man by her side, there was little doubt in his mind that Mercy was deeply in love.
Had a woman ever looked at me like that?
He couldn’t rightly recall. Everything that had happened before the summer of ‘61 was little more than a blur in his memory.

Affectionately grabbing Ben by the arm,
Mercy led him toward the farmhouse that he’d seen in the distance.

“Oh, Ben
. I can’t get over how much you’ve changed. You look so— Goodness! I nearly said fierce. How silly of me to think such a thing, let alone say it aloud. Why, just look at that dashing mustache. It’s enough to put General Custer to shame.”

Try though he might not to,
Ben grimaced.

Mercy was never one to babble
. Which meant that his appearance must shock her more than she was willing to admit.
Fierce, huh?
Yeah, he supposed that a four year stint on Abe Lincoln’s crew would turn even the tamest of Kansas farmers into a fearsome warrior. God only knew how his mother would react.

All smiles and blue-eyed good cheer, Mercy said,
“Since you left for the army, you’ve been uppermost in our prayers, Brother. I’m so happy that you’re finally home.”

Did she say ‘home?’

Ben took an appraising gander at the well-maintained farmyard. No, this wasn’t his home. Although, truth be told, he wasn’t altogether certain where ‘home’ was, not having given it much thought. Kansas, maybe. Guess he’d just go wherever the winds blew. In all honesty, it didn’t much matter to him.

As they approached the rear of the house, the back door suddenly swung open, a hoop-skirted beauty gracefully stepping onto the stone stoop. Swathed entirely in black, what little skin Ben could see
was as lustrous as old-world ivory.
And red hair
. A man could lose his soul over a sinful head of hair like that.

Although the lady in question appeared fit to be tied. Having fought in Virginia, Ben knew there was nothing like a Union soldier showing up at the door to put a sour look on a southern lady’s face.

The red-headed beauty gave Ben a cursory glance. “If you’ve come looking for a hand-out like those other itinerant veterans, there is none to be had. Now, be on your way!”

Fit to be tied?
Hell, the woman acted like she had a corn cob stuck up her—

“
Oh, Lordy. Lady Lydia has gone and done it now.” Clearly amused, Spencer McCabe clutched at his sides, the man actually doubled over with laughter.

Mercy
, twin balls of fire staining her cheeks, stepped to the fore.

“
It’s not what you think, Lydia,” his sister hastily informed the green-eyed shrew. “This is my brother, Captain Benjamin Strong.” Plastering a smile onto her face, Mercy reached for Ben’s arm and tugged him toward the back stoop. “Ben, dear, I’d like you to meet Spencer’s sister-in-law, Lydia McCabe.”

Lydia McCabe acknowledged
Ben with a perfunctory nod of the head – one of those well-practiced gestures that had
blue blood
written all over it.

“Mrs. McCabe.” Ben tipped his officer’s kepi, wishing all the while that he could put a boot to the lady’s backside.
Damnation
! Someone needed to tell the hoop-skirted virago what she could do with her queenly airs.

In the next instant, t
he back door again swung open, a young man loping across the threshold. When he caught sight of Ben’s blue uniform, he came to a skidding halt.

“Who the heck is he?”

Spencer McCabe, having finally managed to curb his laughter, stepped forward. “Dewey, I want you to go fetch the preacher. This here Yankee is about to become your new in-law.”

The young man’s
mouth fell open. “Does Ginny know about this?”

“Um, not yet. Just go saddle up, will ya?” Spencer rubbed his hands together, clearly a pleased man. “Yes, siree, folks
. We’re gonna have us a wedding here today, sure enough.”

‘
A wedding?’

Holy hell, these Southerners don’t believe in beating around the bush, do they?

“Who gives this woman in holy matrimony?”

“I do.”

As she watched the ceremony, Lydia McCabe found herself arrested by Benjamin Strong’s deep, manly voice. The resonant tone and well-articulated diction indicated that Captain Strong was a gentleman. As different from her bawdy tongued brother-in-law as night from day.

In a word, the tall Union office
r was not what she’d expected.

Unwillingly intrigued, Lydia watched as the object of her attention stepped away from his sister’s side, leaving Mercy and Spencer to stand together before Reverend Witherspoon as they took their vows.