Sweet Surrender (Mercers of Montana Book 1) by Evelyn MacQuaid Page A
Authors: Evelyn MacQuaid
Ads: Link
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
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
Similar Books
