Traces of Mercy by Michael Landon Jr

Author:Michael Landon, Jr.
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Romance, Civil War, Michael Landon Jr., Amnesia, Nuns, Faith, Forgiveness
Publisher: David C. Cook
Published: 2013-08-09T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-One

Tomorrow there is to be a pheasant hunt on the property adjacent to the cottage. Though it’s been an annual event with the Prescotts, Rand said they didn’t have the hunt the last few years because of the war. He’s anxious to return to the tradition and, in a rare moment of bragging, told me he’s an excellent shot. He even showed me a cabinet filled with rifles at the cottage. They are all in good working order, and there is enough ammunition to have been able to hold off the rebel army if it had come to that.

I can’t help but wonder if Captain Hale will attend with the Hendersons. He looked at me so strangely the night of the engagement party. I’ll admit I felt a moment of excitement coupled with dread when he asked if we’d met. But then when he changed his mind, all I felt was relief. I keep telling myself I want to know my past, but I’m not sure that’s true. There is always the fear that my past will completely upend my life with Rand, and I know I don’t want that. I suppose what I’m admitting to you, my dear journal, is simply that I’m willing to live without my memory—so I can live with Rand.

Mercy would be the first to admit that she had no idea what to expect from a pheasant hunt, but she was surprised it was such a spectator event—albeit a quiet one. Rand and Ilene had both advised her that all conversation would be in hushed voices so the quarry wouldn’t be spooked.

As the hunt was to take place in close proximity to the cottage, Ezra, Letty, Kizzy and even Isaac were there to see to the needs of the women who were piling out of buggies and carriages with thick woolen blankets in tow. Mercy and Ilene settled themselves on a blanket that soon became the centerpiece for all the other guests who vied for a spot near the hostess and her future daughter-in-law. Cora and her mother arrived, instructing Letty to place their blanket right beside Ilene’s. Mercy supposed that Cora would be a permanent fixture in her life at social occasions, and the thought both depressed and annoyed her.

She turned her attention to the men and watched them go through their hunting rituals. It seemed as if the hunters preened more than the quail she’d seen on the fringe of the cottage grounds. There was plenty of chest puffing and strategy talking in quiet voices so as not to alert the pheasants loafing in the tall grasses about fifty yards from the hunters. The bird dogs sat anxiously at their masters’ feet, tails barely sweeping back and forth in anticipation of flushing and pointing out the quarry.

Captain Hale stood slightly apart from the others—surveying and watching just as Mercy was doing. His rifle was secured under his arm, his expression one of almost sardonic amusement. Mercy had the impression that the sole reason he was there was out of respect to his hosts, the Hendersons.

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