that didn’t seem to deter Mercy who, with what could only be called a fool’s courage, ran toward the boy . Flinging her arms around him, she hurled Gabriel to the ground, protectively covering his body with her own.
About to go to Mercy’s aid, Spenc e heard someone yell his name.
Spinning on his heel, he saw Dewey galloping toward him, a saddled horse in tow. His brother stopped just long enough for Spence to swing himself onto the second horse.
By now, most of the jayhawkers had dispersed, although a few still held their ground, their pistols blazing with deadly fury. Signaling for Dewey to wait for him, he rode over to where Mercy and Gabriel lay huddled on the ground. As she gazed up at him, Spence could see that her face was streaked with tears.
“I’ll be back, Miss Mercy Hibbert. And when that day comes, you’re gonna pay for this night,” he snarled, his voice laden with fury. “So help me, God . You’re gonna pay.”
With that said, Spence slapped a hand on his horse’s rump, the beast taking off at a charge.
Hell-bent for leather, the McCabe brothers galloped across the Hibbert farmstead, their sights set for Missouri.
C HAPTER SIX
Mercy staggered through the back door of the house, her arm held over her forehead to shield her eyes from the early-morning sun. Her hair hung in tangled hanks down her back, her bedraggled body clothed in the same garment that she’d worn the day before.
Once the gunfire had ended, the jayhawkers making haste to chase after their southern adversaries, Mercy had dragged Gabriel into the house. To her relief, she’d discovered Prudence hiding in the kitchen pantry. The three of them then spent a restless night huddled in her mother’s bedroom, terrified that armed gunmen might return. Mercifully, the balance of the night passed uneventfully, silence now reigning supreme after two days of chaotic mayhem.
Although it was a sickening sort of silence, the s mell of death heavy in the air.
Slowly, Mercy looked about the farmyard, feeling as though she’d just awaken ed from a terrible nightmare. In spite of the dreamlike feeling of unreality, the shattered window glass at her feet, and the dead men and horses littering the yard, gruesomely confirmed that it had been no dream that visited her the previous night.
Sickened by the sheer barbarity of it all, she shuddered at finding herself in the midst of such carnage. Already vultures and crows circled overhead, rapaciously surveying the bloody spectacle.
As Mercy silently counted the seven dead men who littered the yard, she was alarmed to realize that there was no way to distinguish jayhawker from bushwhacker. In death, their differences were negated, no clipped Yankee accent or lazy southern drawl to tell them apart. Somehow, that fact made their deaths seem all the more senseless.
Hearing a door slam, Mercy turned to where Prudence stood on the back stoop . Without warning, Prudence suddenly reeled sideways and fell to her knees, violently retching.
Merc y quickly dashed to Pru’s side.
Because there was nothing that she could say to lessen the horror, Mercy simply placed a consoling hand on her sister’s shoulder. As horrible as the scene that lay before them, she feared it was only the beginning.
‘I’ll be back, Miss Mercy Hibbert. And when that day comes, you’re gonna pay for this night. So help me, God. You’re gonna pay.’
That had been the last utterance Spencer made before galloping off with his brother. Given the conviction in his voice, Mercy knew that it was no idle threat. With those departing words, Spencer McCabe had made it all too clear that he held her personally responsible for the violence that had so suddenly erupted.
And perhaps he was right.
Granted, it had never been her intention to put her family in such danger. Somehow, she had naively thought that the Union soldiers would arrive, round up all of the bushwhackers and haul them away to prison camp without a
About to go to Mercy’s aid, Spenc e heard someone yell his name.
Spinning on his heel, he saw Dewey galloping toward him, a saddled horse in tow. His brother stopped just long enough for Spence to swing himself onto the second horse.
By now, most of the jayhawkers had dispersed, although a few still held their ground, their pistols blazing with deadly fury. Signaling for Dewey to wait for him, he rode over to where Mercy and Gabriel lay huddled on the ground. As she gazed up at him, Spence could see that her face was streaked with tears.
“I’ll be back, Miss Mercy Hibbert. And when that day comes, you’re gonna pay for this night,” he snarled, his voice laden with fury. “So help me, God . You’re gonna pay.”
With that said, Spence slapped a hand on his horse’s rump, the beast taking off at a charge.
Hell-bent for leather, the McCabe brothers galloped across the Hibbert farmstead, their sights set for Missouri.
C HAPTER SIX
Mercy staggered through the back door of the house, her arm held over her forehead to shield her eyes from the early-morning sun. Her hair hung in tangled hanks down her back, her bedraggled body clothed in the same garment that she’d worn the day before.
Once the gunfire had ended, the jayhawkers making haste to chase after their southern adversaries, Mercy had dragged Gabriel into the house. To her relief, she’d discovered Prudence hiding in the kitchen pantry. The three of them then spent a restless night huddled in her mother’s bedroom, terrified that armed gunmen might return. Mercifully, the balance of the night passed uneventfully, silence now reigning supreme after two days of chaotic mayhem.
Although it was a sickening sort of silence, the s mell of death heavy in the air.
Slowly, Mercy looked about the farmyard, feeling as though she’d just awaken ed from a terrible nightmare. In spite of the dreamlike feeling of unreality, the shattered window glass at her feet, and the dead men and horses littering the yard, gruesomely confirmed that it had been no dream that visited her the previous night.
Sickened by the sheer barbarity of it all, she shuddered at finding herself in the midst of such carnage. Already vultures and crows circled overhead, rapaciously surveying the bloody spectacle.
As Mercy silently counted the seven dead men who littered the yard, she was alarmed to realize that there was no way to distinguish jayhawker from bushwhacker. In death, their differences were negated, no clipped Yankee accent or lazy southern drawl to tell them apart. Somehow, that fact made their deaths seem all the more senseless.
Hearing a door slam, Mercy turned to where Prudence stood on the back stoop . Without warning, Prudence suddenly reeled sideways and fell to her knees, violently retching.
Merc y quickly dashed to Pru’s side.
Because there was nothing that she could say to lessen the horror, Mercy simply placed a consoling hand on her sister’s shoulder. As horrible as the scene that lay before them, she feared it was only the beginning.
‘I’ll be back, Miss Mercy Hibbert. And when that day comes, you’re gonna pay for this night. So help me, God. You’re gonna pay.’
That had been the last utterance Spencer made before galloping off with his brother. Given the conviction in his voice, Mercy knew that it was no idle threat. With those departing words, Spencer McCabe had made it all too clear that he held her personally responsible for the violence that had so suddenly erupted.
And perhaps he was right.
Granted, it had never been her intention to put her family in such danger. Somehow, she had naively thought that the Union soldiers would arrive, round up all of the bushwhackers and haul them away to prison camp without a
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