Sweet Surrender (Mercers of Montana Book 1) (5 page)

Welcome home?
Shuddering at the thought, Olivia steadied herself and closed her eyes.

J
ackson dropped
the reins of the dappled gray mare. "I'm sure my mother will see you settled."

Olivia's eyes widened and he turned his white horse away from her. Feeling her trepidation made his throat constrict. He couldn't breathe at the ranch, or in town, or near Olivia.

Without another word he urged Stratus into a gallop up the road leading to the ranch. His only thought was to outrun the fear in Olivia's eyes. It meant he was gone again, lost in another person's judgment. She would never see the real him—the one he wanted to be.

As Stratus charged up a familiar side path toward his cabin in the pines, Jackson sighed realizing the worst part: Olivia was right. Despite her trembling, she had admonished him, shamed him for trying to use force for justice. No matter how the ends justified the means, he abhorred the violence that had become second nature to him as a Knifeman.

The first pine needles sliced his face, but Jackson didn't slow the white horse. He welcomed each sting and wished it was a penance that could wash him clean. When he joined the vigilante group, there was no other choice. The old, corrupt sheriff ran the town, kept the good citizens locked in fear, and controlled the roads with barbaric road agents paid to steal instead of help.

The plan was simple: one strategic kill would bring the entire ring down as they turned on each other, and it worked. Jackson wouldn't regret spilling that blood if it had ended there. The Knifemen, as the small vigilante group called themselves, underestimated the spread of the sheriff's corruption. Retaliations brought more bloodshed and then the worst of it began.  

Removing the crooked sheriff left a power vacuum in the lawless town, and many dark ambitions sprang up to fill the void. The Knifemen became a secret network of citizens sharing information in order to stop the schemes that undermined their community.

Jackson became the messenger, sent to scare those who didn't desist upon being revealed. He was the weapon the Knifemen wielded, and though they were cautious and never struck without deliberate, studied reason, his hands were stained with blood.

The white horse charged into the clearing and reared up, silver hooves slashing the air.

"Whoa, Stratus. Slow down, breathe." Jackson soothed himself as much as the horse.  

Virginia City had a new sheriff, a tough man who didn't shy away from hard decisions and never took the easy way out. Sheriff Samson Scotsman was also charming, diplomatic, and smart. He immediately uncovered the identities of the Knifemen, knowledge that he played close to the chest. Jackson was the ace up his sleeve.

The young Mercer's reputation had grown into infamy because no one could prove anything. He simply looked and acted the part. The sheriff knew sending Jackson to make inquiries was enough to reverse the actions of most lawbreakers. He was still a weapon and Jackson believed it was all he could ever be.

He would never be like his older brother. Joseph was the head of Mercer Ranch, an upright citizen with a solid gold reputation. He and his wife, Verity, were regular fixtures at church, and they were both well-known for their level heads and generosity. The townsfolk came to Joseph just for his opinion.

People only came to Jackson for one thing, so when he saw the strange horse grazing near his cabin, he already knew what the rider wanted. He gritted his teeth and forced himself up the front steps.

The man leaned back in the shadows, his hat tipped low over his face. A Knifeman on his front porch in broad daylight was bad news, but Jackson acknowledged him with a nod.

"Afternoon, Silas."

"
O
h dear
." Abigail sighed.

The sudden outburst startled Olivia. The dappled gray mare snorted and she turned the horse around. Abigail, Lady Dubuque, and Charlotte all stood on the wide front porch of the white ranch house, having seen Jackson drop the reins and gallop away from Olivia as fast as he could.

Olivia squeezed the reins hard. "We came across our belongings."

Abigail started down the steps, a flush of concern spreading across her face. She nodded to the retreating figure. "What is Jackson going to do?"

Olivia attempted to dismount gracefully. An impossible task as she found herself once again sitting astride with her skirts tangled around her legs. The older woman reached out to help, but her eyes were trained on the speck in the distance. The faint wrinkles around Abigail's mouth and eyes in an otherwise smooth face told of worries. Perhaps she knew of her son's tendencies.

Olivia shrugged. "I assume he's going back to retrieve them for us." She watched closely for a reaction on the older woman's face, but aside for brief glint in her eye, she gave nothing away.

Charlotte stuck out her lip. "That's the wrong direction." She shaded her eyes with her hands and pointed further to the right. "That's the way you came from. I bet he's heading back to his cabin."

"Shush now." Abigail nudged her daughter, who helped Olivia up the front steps.

"I'm sure Jackson is just gone to gather a few necessities before he returns. He will be joining us for dinner." A voice boomed from the front door.

Abigail looked over toward the doorway and beamed. "Lady Olivia, please let me introduce my eldest son, Joseph, and his wife, Verity. They just had the pleasure of meeting Lady Dubuque."

Olivia's chaperone peered down the road in the direction Charlotte pointed. "I do wish he had gone after our belongings." She giggled. "I stashed away the perfect bottle of champagne for tonight."

Verity tossed back her blond curls and clapped. "Champagne, what a treat." Her warm smile revealed perfect dimples in each cheek.

Besides the same blue eyes, Jackson didn't look at all like his older brother. Joseph Mercer was pale skinned and had a short crop of blond hair smoothly parted on to a side. He was shorter, more compact, both his strength and his personality more grounded. The man seemed to melt every time his wife smiled.

"We can't have Lady Dubuque and her charge going another minute without their things. How else will our guests make themselves comfortable?" Verity asked, driving home her argument.

Joseph thrust his shoulders back. "Lady Olivia, if you point me in the right direction, I will have your belongings here at the ranch within the hour."

Olivia accompanied him as he rounded the house and called for a cart. A young man tripping over his own gangly legs brought out two large-chested bay horses and handed Joseph the reins. The freckled-faced youth then buckled the horses into the stays, shooting glances at Olivia every now and then. After the third time he missed a fastening, Joseph puckered his face and bent to help him.

While they were busy, Olivia looked up at the ridge where Jackson's retreating figure had disappeared. She'd stewed for months in the embarrassment of being nothing better than a mail-order bride. Now the very real possibility of rejection filled her with dread. What would become of her sisters if her father's debt was not paid?

"Please don't worry, milady. Jackson is never one to leave unfinished business." Joseph gazed into the distance.

Olivia blanched at the thought of him finishing off the conversation at the thieves' camp differently, had she not been in the vicinity. Joseph saw his mistake and patted her arm. "Looks can be deceiving, milady, especially out here in Montana. Distances look farther, weather looks closer, and men act like they have to instead of how they want."

Olivia wanted to smile, but the sense of hopelessness that weighed her down did not allow it. What am I going to do way out here? It seemed her father's careful plan for her to marry rich here in Montana was falling apart before her eyes. Just an hour earlier it was she who wanted to cut off the engagement, but now that Jackson had abandoned her she put the fault squarely on him.

Joseph climbed up in the cart. "And some women act like they want, not how they should."

Olivia's eyebrows knitted.

He laughed and tossed his head toward Charlotte, who was perched on the railing of the front porch like a small schoolboy, oblivious to her skirts gathering high up her calves. The freckle-faced young man gawked until he caught Olivia's stern look. Turning beet red, he picked up his heels and retreated to the barn.

Olivia relented and smiled at Joseph. "Well, at least I can be useful until my plans are solidified.

Ms. Charlotte, would you be as kind as to show me the gardens?"

"
I
'm telling
you the rockslide was forced." Silas tapped an impatient foot. "Abbot and I climbed up to the top of the claim and there were pickax marks all along the edge where it started."

Jackson winced as he leaned against his porch railing. "So someone's trying to scare claim holders into selling. This isn't anything new."

Silas tore off his hat and scratched his head. "Something's not right. There have been too many incidents lately. Feels like something bigger is coming."

Jackson snorted. "Ever feel like you see schemes and liars no matter where you look? It gets to you, Silas, and it's not our job anymore. Sheriff Scotsman is a capable man."

"And he's asking for our help, Jackson. Innocent people are getting hurt." Silas stood up. "Besides what else you got to do?"

"Didn't you hear?" called a third voice. "He's getting married."

Both men jumped, hands going for weapons. Joseph rounded the cabin, Jackson swore under his breath, and Silas relaxed only enough to put on his hat.

Silas glared at Joseph, his lip in its customary curl. "The wedding can wait. We need your brother's help."

Joseph cocked an eyebrow. "You obviously have not seen the bride. Jackson needs to marry her now before half the territory tries to steal her heart away."

The two stepped carefully around each other until Joseph was on the porch and Silas stood on the path.

Silas turned back and clenched his fist. "I'm telling you, Jackson, this needs looking into."

"Then go ahead and look yourself." Joseph cocked his head at Jackson. "The man's busy."

J
oseph crossed his arms
, staring after the slim man who pulled his hat lower and disappeared down the trail. He turned to his younger brother. "Don't you make me tell Mother." Joseph's voice was gruff.

Jackson ran a hand through his unruly hair. "You really think Abigail Mercer scares a man like that?"

"Yes. They went to school together. Mother kicked his rear from one end of the school house to the next, and I'm sure she'd do it again in a heartbeat if she had to."

The heat that built up within Jackson since his brother's arrival flushed through his body. "Stay out of my business."

Joseph's eyes narrowed. "What business? You're a man of leisure out here for a little hunting and fishing, right?"

"Both of which I prefer to do alone."

"Well, little brother, today is not your lucky day. No, actually, it
is
your lucky day. Joseph slapped him on the back. "I just met Lady Olivia."

Jackson crossed his arms. "Oh? What about her?"

"Slim little angel with acres of curly brown hair and eyes like emeralds." His eyes sparkled with mischief. "Yeah, I'd say it was your lucky day." His mocking smile turned into a cold hard stare. "Now get your things. We're going home."

Jackson's every limb ached to kick his older brother off his porch, but he knew Joseph too well. What he lacked in physical prowess, he made up for in sheer stubbornness. He could lock himself in the cabin, but one way or another his brother would drag him out.

Jackson balled his hands into fists but followed Joseph down the cabin steps toward the clearing, where Joseph had parked the cart full of Lady Olivia's belongings.

"She'll be happy to see you driving this, I reckon." Joseph laughed. "Though she might be too busy to notice."

"Wedding planning?" The words escaped Jackson's lips despite himself. He wasn't sure what answer he wanted to hear.

Joseph slanted a look at his brother. "Not quite. Last I saw she was setting her sights on taming Charlotte."

The idea of Olivia trying to turn Charlotte into a proper lady made Jackson laugh out loud. His mood lightened as they gently swayed to the cart's rhythm on the bumpy road to the ranch. He hummed a gentle tune as a warm sense of contentment swept through him. It felt good going home with his brother at his side.

Further down the road he stiffened at the sight of the ridge claim Silas mentioned. The cliff face was crumpled from the rockslide. Two men were lying in the doctor's shack as a result of the incident, and Silas was sure more people were going to get hurt.

The possibility of this being true gnawed at Jackson. He frowned and nodded his head. Indeed, it was worth looking into.

J
oseph steered
the heavy cart up close to the porch when the front door flew open. Charlotte exploded from the house, ran down the steps, and leapt into the bed of the cart.

Jackson lifted the tattered blanket and peered beneath. "Hiding from a bath, kitten?"

"Etiquette lessons." Charlotte chocked on her words. "They're discussing etiquette lessons. Please, get me out of here!"

Joseph chuckled. "Sorry, darling, end of the road."

Jackson's eyes narrowed. "Who's teaching? Lady Dubuque?"

"No, your fiancée, Lady Olivia." Charlotte wrapped her hands around her chest and pouted. "You better hurry up and marry her, or Mother's going to ask her to be my governess."

"See?" Joseph turned to Jackson. "I told you everyone in the territory was going to try to steal her away, even Lady Charlotte here."

"No!" shrieked the fugitive, tugging the sheet back over her head. "I'll never be a lady and you can't make me."

"Oh no?" Joseph raised the cover his eyes on the porch. "… but they can."

A
bigail and Olivia
made their way onto the porch. The older woman made out her daughter's form hiding underneath the sheet and nudged Olivia.

Jackson, oblivious to their presence, teased the bundle in the cart with a sloppy grin on his face. Olivia reached out for the railing and steadied herself. She was three feet away from the top step, so why did she feel as though she was falling?

Charlotte was summoned back onto the porch, and Olivia's intended husband laughed. Try as she might, she couldn't take her eyes off of him. Merriment lit his blue eyes and transformed his face. The imposing square jaw shaded with dark stubble was replaced by the flash of white teeth, the curve of firm lips, and the slightest indent of a dimple in his left cheek.

He jumped down from the cart and caught her gaze. The easy laughter fled, and Olivia caught her breath. His eyes held a question just for her, and she had no idea how to answer it.

She bowed her head to him. "Thank you."

Jackson's eyes grew wide in surprise. The quiet nicety seemed to have thrown him. "I'll bring them right up to you."

She nodded, spun around, and led the way into the white house and up the wide curving staircase to her rooms. A small sitting room was flanked by two bedrooms and Lady Dubuque greeted them from the one on the right.

Lady Dubuque's eyes twinkled with delight. "Excellent, my dear boy, excellent. Now I'll be able to find that dress for Charlotte." So saying, she chased the young Mercer down the hall, leaving Olivia and Jackson alone.

Olivia avoided looking at him and busied herself with unpacking. The men went up and down, delivering more trunks and valises. Jackson was different inside the big white ranch house, as if his hard facade was a jacket he slipped on and off with ease.

Joseph dropped off the last valise and excused himself to find his wife. Olivia was surprised when Jackson didn't find some excuse to disappear, but instead lingered in the door, studying her as she unpacked.

He cleared his throat. "Sore from your ride?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"I don't mean to be rude." He began, "but you seem a little … uh … stiff."

She tugged down her sleeves and surveyed the luggage. "I've been traveling a while."

"And how do you like Montana so far?"

Olivia bristled at his cynical smile. He probably expected she would complain and swoon, or perhaps burst into tears and beg to leave. Instead, she met his measuring look. "I prefer the countryside, and there is plenty to be had around here. Room to move, not at all like the cluttered streets of London."

Jackson moved into the already crowded room and settled on the biggest of the steamer trunks. "So you don't miss London? Didn't you leave any suitors pining away for you?"

A blush crept across her cheeks and she shook her head. "No."

"Come now…" his eyes sparkled with mischief "…a beautiful lady such as yourself shouldn't lie."

Olivia drew a sharp breath and straightened her shoulders. "I'm not lying. My suitors had all given up long before I left London on account of my father."

"Given up?" He cocked an eyebrow. "Is your father really such an imposing figure?"

Tipping her head to the side, Olivia laughed. "Lord Tarrington is not known to cast a wide shadow."

Jackson knitted his brow. "Then what scared off your suitors?"

Olivia bit her lip and turned back to her unpacking. She wished Lady Dubuque would return or Charlotte would interrupt them. Jackson was not the type of man to let go of a question, no matter how idle his curiosity. From the studied look he gave her, Olivia knew he was more than curious.

"You said your father moved you from the countryside to London." He bit his lower lip, seemingly working on the puzzle. "So perhaps your father had debts to pay."

Her stomach churned. "London is more expensive than the countryside. Why would my father move us there if he was in debt?" She was careful to avoid meeting his eyes.

Jackson, whose eyes were glued on her, shrugged. "Easier to find a loan, easier to sell items of worth, easier to gamble, easier to …"

"Stop it." Olivia’s protest cut through as cold and sharp as an icicle. "If you have concerns about a union with my family, sir, I believe you should take it up with your mother."

Jackson clambered to his feet and crossed the room in three strides. He caught Olivia's chin in his forefinger and thumb and tipped her face up then lowered his head, her lips inches away from his. Her heart pounded in her chest, eyelids growing heavy. She held her breath.

His voice was soft, almost soothing. "What kind of a father marries his daughter off to settle a debt?"

Her eyes flew open and she stepped back, almost falling over an open trunk. Olivia steadied herself and crossed her arms. “Lord Tarrington is a good man and a good father."

Jackson nodded. "I used to tell people my father was a good man, a misunderstood man." He threw his shoulders up in a shrug. "No one believed me."

Heat flushed through her body. She could not stand his pity. She raised her chin up and looked him straight in the eye. "Finding fault with my father will not extricate you from this betrothal. As I said before, if that is what you want simply talk to your mother."

His face didn't flinch as he held her gaze. "Is that what you want?"

Olivia sighed. How right he was about her father's debt. What of her sisters who still had the hope of marrying well because of her? Her closest sister was already in love, and she didn't want to stand in the way of her happiness.

Olivia's lips quivered. "It's unladylike to want." She tossed her head and escaped into the hallway.

A
bigail Mercer made
her household dress for dinner every night, but she insisted everyone wear their best for Lady Olivia's first night on the ranch. She made her way down the hallway, checking in on each member of the family.

Joseph was safely ensconced with his wife in the nearby cottage. Lately, Jackson found himself wondering why he couldn't be like his older brother, who took up the reins of the Mercer family at a young age. Someone had to be the man of the house as their father drank, wandered, and philandered his way through the territory.

Jackson used to think the responsibility weighed on him. Now, though, as a man, it showed how much it had shaped his personality, made him more deliberate, relaxed, slower to anger, and measured in his thoughts. Joseph was settled, steady, and happy.

And married.

Verity was the perfect counterpart to Joseph: light, bright, and quick as a flash of gold in a pan. It seemed to all the Mercers that she had always been a member of the family, the daughter of a nearby homesteader. She claimed to have loved him the moment they met on the footpath to town, but it had taken decades for Joseph to realize love was right under his nose.

They grew up together, knew the land together, loved Montana and Virginia City together. It was what bound them so closely, knit into the perfect couple by common ties. Was that the secret to their happy marriage? Why then was he considering marrying a stranger from a faraway country?

"You're a good man, Jackson Mercer." His mother's words cut through his thoughts.

Jackson grunted and shook his head. She marched into the room and though she had to reach up, Abigail took his face in her hands and repeated what she believed.

"You're a decent man and we are lucky to have you home with us tonight. Thank you."

"I should be thanking you." Jackson shrugged off her hands. "It's not every day a man gets such a package delivered by stagecoach."

Abigail beamed. "You never would've gone to meet the stagecoach if I'd told you. She had to be a surprise."

Jackson wrinkled his nose. "I thought arranged marriages were only for those old world fools with more money than sense."

Abigail shrugged. "Your father and I had an arranged marriage."

Jackson swallowed hard, thinking how her marriage had turned out. "You don't seriously believe I am marriage material?"

"Yes I do, and if you know what's good for you, Jackson Mercer, you'll marry that lovely woman and be happy."

A lump formed in his throat. "You know I can't." He lowered his head.

"You can and you will. Mark my words, darling boy." Abigail straightened his tie. "Now escort your old mother to the dining room."

Jackson held out his arm for his mother with a wry shake of his head. This morning marked his third month away from the ranch. After his last job with the Knifemen, he dedicated himself to finishing the cabin in the clearing. He hadn't seen his family besides visits from Joseph, and here he was dressed in his finest and heading to the dining room as if no time had passed.

Could time actually erase certain memories? If he simply went back to the way things were, could he start all over again and forget about the things he had done?

O
livia was
a vision in pale green silk and stole his breath away. She stood near the roaring fireplace at the far end of the dining room, flanked by Lady Dubuque and Verity, but she was all he could see. The dress caught the candlelight and gave her a glow.

Like a will-o’-the-wisp, luring him away from the path. Away from the dark path with no end, and all he had to do was pursue her.

Charlotte tugged on his sleeve. “Jackson, please, you have to help me." She shook her head in a wild frenzy. "Look what they've done to me."

Charlotte held out her soft pink, ruffled dress, her hair pleated neatly and tucked into a tight bun. Her face was scrubbed clean, and Jackson reached out and give a rosy cheek a gentle pinch. "Why now, who is this little lady?"

"Jest all you want." Charlotte pouted. "They've dressed you up too."

"And he looks very handsome." Lady Dubuque flapped her fan in an exaggerated gesture.

Olivia appeared behind her and Jackson felt dizzy. His whole world was tangled up: the exiled man he was this morning tied into the celebrated gentlemen he appeared to be tonight. It was too much, and he tugged on his cravat for a breath of air.

"Perhaps you would like to take some air before we are seated?" Lady Dubuque's questioning eyes narrowed. "Olivia would be very pleased to see the gardens."

The chaperone had their arms linked and feet heading out the French doors to the garden before either knew what was happening.

From a corner of the garden, Lady Dubuque exclaimed, “What a marvelous peony bush. I simply must cut some for my room." She dragged Charlotte back inside and left Jackson alone in the dusk-filled garden with Olivia.

It was as though he had already drunk the heady wine that was to be served with dinner. Jackson was not a celibate man. In fact, he winced thinking of his last encounter with a willing shopkeeper, so he had no idea why just the light touch of Olivia's hand on his arm was causing a wildfire to race through him.

She's just a daydream, a gentle flame that would disappear as soon as he reached out. This did nothing to stop the growing ache within. He stopped on the gravel path and spun Olivia around to face him.

"You really plan to follow through on your father's scheme?" He bit off the question harder than he intended.

Olivia swallowed. "I uphold the promises I make." She tipped her head in an infuriatingly superior way.

Jackson caught her chin. He had to wipe away her certainty. He lowered his head, his lips barely grazing hers— His head snapped up. "Did you hear that?"

Olivia held her breath. "What?"

Jackson swore. "Coyotes. They're after the chickens. Stay here."

H
e charged
down the garden path to the chicken coop and reached down to grab his knife. With nothing but a silk pocket handkerchief to scare away the predators, his stomach plummeted.

A sharp growl had him skidding to a stop. In its panic, the coyote pushed against the coop door. It was jammed open against the stone garden wall, creating a barrier between the snarling animal and its escape route. The coyote was cornered, teeth bared, and Jackson was defenseless.

A blur of green silk ran around the chicken coop from the other side. Olivia grasped the flimsy wire door and pulled. The coyote leapt up into the air. She moved her hands higher, out of reach of the desperate animal, and pulled harder. Another yank and the door scraped against the stone wall and finally came loose. The coyote dove for the opening, just under Olivia's skirts. She jumped into the coop and pulled the door closed behind her, leaving the coyote an open path away from Jackson.

The frenzied animal took to its heels and disappeared into the night. Olivia opened the coop and stepped out. He took her hand to steady her, bracing himself for an outburst. Not once did she look at the muddied hem of her dress or fret about her hair or gloves as he supposed a lady would. Her cheeks were bright with triumph, and she smiled up at Jackson.

"You never do what you're told, do you?" He tapped a finger on her dainty nose. "Isn't that unladylike?"