A.N. A brief note to say that the last part of Jericho Wells dropped off the bottom of the story list quite quickly (due to some other good stuff being uploaded!) so you might want to go back and check that out before this chapter. Jane

“Hi.” The puzzled young woman stood up, trying a smile on for size. She was about Kaylee’s height and weight, but more curvy, going in at the waist as if she was cinched. Her hair was lighter, too, almost blonde but not quite. “I’m Mercy. Mercy Fischer. And please, no jokes about my name. I’ve heard them all, I promise.”

“Zoe Mills. Like the man said.” Cromwell had melted away, but she was sure he was just outside the door, listening.

Mercy glanced down at Zoe’s left hand, at the ring prominent against her dark skin. “You married?”

“Yes.”

She chuckled. “Only one of us that is, then. I guess your husband’s a bit more … advanced than the rest of ‘em.”

“Hank’s okay.” More than okay, she thought, but wasn’t about to say.

“Well, I guess I’d better make the introductions. Since no-one else seems inclined to say anything.” She glared at the other women.

“It isn’t like we have to, Mercy,” said the one sitting down. “And I don’t see how come there has to be another candidate anyway.”

“Because it’s the law.” It sounded like a conversation that had been held before, at least from the suppressed sigh in the young woman’s voice. “You know that. Mr Cromwell explained, didn’t he?”

“And he didn’t exactly sound overly pleased, neither.”

“That man doesn’t sound overly pleased about anything,” Mercy said, a flash of irritation in her tone. “I don’t know how his wife puts up with him.”

The woman standing by the window with her arms crossed, made a harsh sound in her throat. “Like the rest of us do. Or like we would, if we were the kind of women men’d marry.” She sniffed hard. “And I don’t see you saying anything to his face, either.”

Mercy sighed, and turned back to Zoe. “We’re okay, really. It’s just … some of us take a