Read Kate Wingo - Western Fire 01 for Free Online Page B

THREE
     
     
     
     
    “Dewey has assured me that Mister Sykes does not intend to harm us.”
    “ Mister Sykes is a demon from hell who would not hesitate to shoot any or all of us.” Exhausted from her day’s labor, Mercy wiped a dress sleeve across her beaded brow. Turning away from her sister Prudence, she proceeded to stack the supper plates in the cupboard.
    “Dewey says that —”
    “Lest you forget, Dewey McCabe is a Missouri bushwhacker,” Mercy interjected, spitting out the word ‘bushwhacker’ as though it was poisonous venom. “And as such, his word counts for naught.”
    Prudence’s lower lip stubbornly protruded. “If it weren’t for Dewey and his brother, we would both be dead. And you know it!”
    “I know no such thing.”
    “But I thought Spencer said that he would keep us safe from harm.”
    “Mister McCabe merely said that if we comply with his demands, we stand a chance of not being killed.”
    Over the course of that interminably long day, Mercy had repeatedly reflected on Spencer McCabe’s enigmatic warning. ‘Just feed ‘em when they’re hungry and stay out of their way the rest of the time. If you do that, you stand a chance of coming out of this alive.’
    With each bowl of stew she’d ladled out, each loaf of bread she’d kneaded, Mercy had been bitterly reminded that her family’s survival depended on keeping a gang of cutthroats happy.
    Happy ? Humph! She’d see them all in hell before she so much as looked one of them in the eye.
    “From all the bold talk that was earlier bandied about, I’ve ascertained that Ned Sykes is planning to set fire to every farm in the county,” Mercy informed her sister in a lowered voice.
    Pru’s eyes widened with fear. “But if they burn our house down, what will we do? Where will we go?”
    “Since they intend to use our farm as their base camp, this may be the only house spared once the vandals return to Missouri. And given that Spencer McCabe led these evil men here, we have him to thank for all of this. Assuming thanks can be given for so barbarous a deed.” Angered by the futility of their predicament, Mercy banged her fist on the kitchen table, wishing there was some way to warn their friends and neighbors of the impending danger about to befall them.
    That she owed her life to a devil-hearted bushwhacker left a foul taste in her mouth. That she was forced to playact at being his ‘woman’ caused her to inwardly seethe . Particularly since the fiend was playing the situation for all it was worth, having gone so far as to bring her a bundle of his dirty clothes.
    Knowing better than to voice a complaint, Mercy had darned his socks and mended his shirts. She’d even washed out his dirty linen, humiliated to have performed so intimate a chore for a man she barely knew. No doubt he’d have her shining his boots and shaving his face before this nightmare finally came to an end.
    With the last of the supper plates secured in the cupboard, Prudence turned to her, an expectant look on her face. “What do you propose we do now?”
    Mercy untied her food-stained apron, hanging it on a wooden peg. “I’ll bring in the laundry while there’s still a bit of daylight left. I suggest that you and Gabriel retire for night.”
    Unable to quell her forlorn thoughts, Mercy stepped through the back door and walked across the yard to where Spencer’s laundry hung on the line. In the shadowed glow of twilight, she spied a crowd of men lounging about, some playing cards, most drinking whiskey, and a few having already spread their bedrolls for the night.
    “Now is that any way to treat a fella, passin’ him by without even givin’ him a nod of the head?”
    At hearing that unexpected overture, Mercy stopped in her tracks. From out of the shadows stepped the youthful bushwhacker who’d earlier ransacked her mother’s personal belongings. If she recalled correctly, the boy answered to the ridiculous name of Kid Mooney.
    “Good evening,”