and Bertie would both tell her to calm down and be sensible.
Mercy had no intention of doing either.
She knocked and strode in without waiting for an answer. Besides Jayne, both Sybil and Linette, Eddie’s wife, sat around the table. “Good. The three of you are here. You can all hear my story at the same time.” She plunked down on the only available chair. “I met the most rude man.”
Sybil sat up straighter. “Where? Mercy, what have you been up to this time? I do wish you wouldn’t roam about the woods as if—”
Jayne spoke as soon as Sybil paused for breath. “Please don’t tell us you’ve met a man while out there. What kind of man? What did he do?”
Mercy waved aside their concerns. “He says he’s rented that little cabin southwest of here. He informed me I was trespassing. Pfft. If he thinks he can order me around, well, he’ll soon learn otherwise.”
Linette waited for Mercy to run out of steam. “That must be Abel Borgard. Eddie told me he’d let him have the little cabin for himself and his children. Twins, Eddie said. A boy and a girl. Did you see them?”
She smiled. “I didn’t realize they were twins. The little boy is sturdy and filled with curiosity. He wanted me to show him how to teach a horse some tricks.” She ignored the way the others looked at each other and shook their heads. They simply did not understand why she had to do this. They’d asked and she’d only said it was an adventure. But it was more than that. A need deep inside. A restless itch that had to be tended to. She’d been that way most of her life. Probably since her brother died when he was eight and she, six. It was not a time in her life she liked to think about so she gladly pulled her thoughts back to her waiting friends. “The little girl is tiny but a real beauty. Her father swept her into his arms as if she was a—” She couldn’t finish. She’d been about to say a precious princess. “A much younger child.” She’d seen the way the little girl patted his cheeks and how his expression softened with what Mercy could only interpret as devotion. “He said I was too reckless to be around his children. Really? I am never reckless.”
The others laughed.
Mercy tried to scowl but ended up laughing, as well.
Sybil sighed. “It sounds romantic. A man raising two children on his own. So protective of them.”
Linette patted her rounded tummy. She was two months from having her firstborn. “Eddie will be a good father. I’ve already seen it in the way he treats Grady.” Grady was the little boy they were raising as their own.
“Where is Grady?” Mercy asked.
“He’s over at Cassie’s playing with the children.” Cassie and Roper and the four children they’d adopted lived beyond the barn in a house big enough for the six of them.
Linette returned immediately to Mercy’s situation. “It seems to me you’ll have to respect Abel’s wishes and stay away from the cabin. Maybe now you’ll remain at the ranch. Tell me you will. I worry about you out there on your own.”
Mercy didn’t bother to again say she could take care of herself. “Guess I will be practicing my riding and roping around here until I find another place. But—” She leaned forward and gave them each a demanding look. “I don’t want anyone hanging about warning me about the dangers. Agreed?”
Jayne and Linette exchanged a look then together shook their heads. “We aren’t agreeing to any such thing.”
“Nor am I,” Sybil said. “From the beginning I’ve opposed your dream to join a Wild West show and will continue to do so.”
Mercy groaned. “I can see I’ll have to find another place to practice.” In the meantime, the corrals were virtually empty, with the cowboys and horses gone on the roundup. She’d be able to work on her tricks without a lot of interference. She’d simply deflect her friends’ needless worry should they voice it.
The next morning she slipped from the house before Linette or Grady stirred and hurried down to the corral behind the barn. The guns she used for her fancy shooting worried the others the most so she did her gun work in the cold dawn. The pearl-handled guns, one of her greatest treasures, had been acquired through Cal, a cowboy who had worked at the Eden Valley Ranch before he’d been fired. She’d encouraged Cal to do a number of things Eddie didn’t approve of. He’d even coached her roping stunts. Thankfully, it was his own actions that got him fired, and nothing she could feel responsible for.
After an hour, her wrists grew tired and she saddled Nugget and brought him out to the same area. She practiced a number of tricks—bowing, rearing up, sidestepping. Then she turned her attention to a new trick—teaching Nugget to lie on his back and let her sit on his chest.
She finally got him to lie down and roll to his back and rewarded him with a carrot.
The sun had grown warm. Her stomach growled, reminding her she’d eaten nothing but a slab of bread she’d grabbed on her way through the kitchen. Linette and Grady would be up and about by now. Time to climb the hill and find breakfast. She’d heard Cookie call good morning to Jayne a short time ago. Overhead, a flock of geese honked, and a crow called from the trees. The chickens cackled and crowed. The world had come alive.
She stepped into the house and traipsed down the hall to the kitchen.
Grady ran to her, almost tackled her. She caught him. “Whoa, cowboy. What’s your hurry?”
“We got company.”
Warning trickled down Mercy’s spine. Surely Abel hadn’t stepped into her corner of the ranch. She slowly raised her eyes. The twins sat at the table watching her. She shifted her gaze around the room until she met Linette’s eyes. No one else was there.
Her breath whooshed out.
“Papa says we can stay here while he works,” Allie said.
“That’s nice.”
The children eyed her. She eyed them back. Then they all grinned.
Linette brushed a strand of hair off her face. “I thought you might like to take the three of them out after breakfast and amuse them while I do some things around the house.”
Mercy laughed, as much out of relief as amusement. She didn’t mind spending time with the children. Over breakfast, she considered the day. “Who wants to watch me do some roping?”
The boys yelled yes and Allie nodded, her blue eyes sparkling.
“Good. Then finish your breakfast, help me clean up and we’ll go do it.”
The boys ate hurriedly but Allie picked at her food.
“Come on, Allie,” Ladd said. “We can’t go until you finish.”
Slowly she cleaned her plate, then the three of them helped Mercy do the dishes. Ladd dried the dishes so fast they barely got introduced to the towel. He was darker than his sister, his blue eyes so dark they almost seemed black until the light hit them and the blue became evident.
Grady, five years old, carefully placed each dish on the table and dried it with both hands.
Allie dried each dish as slowly as she ate.
Ladd nudged his sister. “Go faster.”
“I can’t.”
They studied each other. Mercy thought Ladd would press the point and then he patted her shoulder. “Do your best.”
Mercy turned away and stared at the soapy dishwater. The boy’s gentleness with his sister tugged at her thoughts. Had her brother, Butler, treated her with such kindness? She tried to remember. But it seemed she could only recall the loneliness of his illness and the emptiness of the house after he died. And how her parents had mourned so deeply they plumb forgot they had a daughter.
That was in the past. The future and adventure beckoned.
She handed