by Ana Seymour
Molly hesitated for another minute, then sighed. “He’s not my Mr. Dickerson. He’s just a neighbor who is good enough to help us out now and then. Susannah thinks he’s a little overbearing at times.”
“I think I might learn to agree with her.”
She backed up to the door and grabbed the latch behind her. “Mr. Prescott…Parker,” she began firmly. “When I agreed to your employment, you said you were willing to learn. Perhaps your first lesson should be to remember that you are now a hired hand. You’re on this ranch to work. It’s not your job to have opinions about our neighbors, or our friends, or my sisters and me, for that matter.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” he said mildly. “Anything else?”
“No.” She looked around the room. “Smokey will bring you out some breakfast in the morning.”
“Much obliged.”
She gave a brisk nod, then opened the door and left. Parker grinned at her back. The oldest Hanks sister talked a tough game, but she wasn’t as hard as she looked. She hadn’t come out here to see that he was settled. She’d come because she was worried about him. There’d been genuine concern in her eyes when she’d checked on his ears. Oddly enough, he could still feel the traces of her fingers in his hair.
He pushed himself away from the table and headed for the stove. Wincing at the stiffness in his joints, he knelt beside the woodpile and began to stuff logs into the iron potbelly.
He found a box of matches on top of the stove and lit the fire. The dry wood took immediately, snapping warmth out into the room. Parker began to hum a little tune. It was an interesting discovery. Miss Molly wasn’t so tough after all. When she’d opened the door to leave, her hands on the latch had been trembling like a frightened rabbit.
Chapter Five
Parker finished off the last of the flapjacks Smokey had brought out to him, then gulped his coffee. It had already grown cold in its tin cup. He hadn’t bothered to stoke up the stove, which had gone out during the night. The mild weather appeared to be holding and the temperature in the bunkhouse was tolerable. In fact, the cold night seemed to have done “him some good. His body was almost back to normal, and for the first time since he’d started down into Copper Canyon his head felt clear.
He’d awakened at dawn and unpacked his gear, stowing it neatly in the big, empty cupboard. Then Smokey had shown up with the food, grumbling that he saw no reason why Parker shouldn’t just come on up to the house and eat with the rest of them.
“It was different when Mr. Hanks was around. This place was full up back then,” he’d said, looking around at the empty bunks. “The cowhands ate at the cookhouse out back. Charlie liked to keep them away from his three treasures, you know.” Smokey looked older suddenly as his eyes softened in memory of his boss and friend. He paused for a minute, then continued briskly, “Can’t say as I blame him. About the hands, I mean. Some of them galoots I wouldn’t invite to my privy, much less my dinner table.”
He’d stayed to reminisce a few more minutes about “those days” before finally moving stiffly out the door, shaking his shaggy gray head. Parker had the feeling that Smokey, as much as he cared for his old boss’s “three treasures,” had no more belief than the townsfolk that three young women could run the Lucky Stars. Parker didn’t share his pessimism. Growing up surrounded by female suffragists and temperance crusaders, he knew a woman could be as bright and as strong and as stubborn as a man. Hell, one look at Molly Hanks should be proof enough of that. But it didn’t seem as if anyone was willing to give her a chance.
He pushed aside the breakfast dishes and stood. He’d do what he could to help, at least through spring, though he wasn’t at all sure just how much help he would be. He’d made it clear to Molly that he wasn’t an experienced cowhand, but he hadn’t dared tell her the whole truth—that he’d never so much as been near a cow. A steer. Whatever the hell they called them out here. With a sigh he reached over to the bunk and snatched up his hat. He supposed she’d find out soon enough.
Molly knew that she had not been in the best of tempers at breakfast that morning. She’d snapped at Susannah and even had a harsh word for Mary Beth when both her younger sisters had argued that their new hired hand should be invited to take meals with them in the house.
“It’s downright silly to try to have a mess for one cowboy,” Susannah had said with a slight pout.
And Molly had to admit that her sister had a point. But she just wasn’t ready to sit down at a table with Parker Prescott. For one thing, she didn’t trust the way he looked at Susannah, his brown eyes lit and dancing. And then there were the odd sensations Molly herself had been having. Scary feelings, like a sudden chilly wind in a mountain pass. She’d had one yesterday when she’d seen Parker’s arms around her sister up on the balcony. And again last night, after weaving her fingers through the soft waves of his hair. She’d lain awake for what had seemed like hours last night trying to figure out what was wrong with her. Which undoubtedly had not helped her crankiness this morning.
The meal had ended without resolving the issue. Molly supposed that eventually she’d invite Parker to eat with them, but she’d like to feel a little more in control of things before she did. Part of the problem was the unavoidable intimacy of their first few meetings. She’d scarcely seen the man dressed, for pity’s sake. It would undoubtedly be easier once their roles as boss and hired hand were firmly established.
She gave a last swipe to the breakfast platter and hung the dish towel on the rack. The sooner the better, she reckoned. Of course, if Parker was still feeling poorly, she couldn’t put him to work yet. But if he was recovered enough, she might as well get him started. It was a nice warm morning. They could get a lot done. And they could establish once and for all just exactly who was the boss.
Parker could tell that his bout with frostbite and fever had taken a toll. Back in the Black Hills, when he’d been at his most enthusiastic about the mine, he’d worked for sixteen hours or more without a break, well into the late-summer twilight. But right now he felt much as he had when he’d been beaten up by Big Jim Driscoll’s thugs after Claire’s death. Every muscle was screaming.
He and Smokey had spent most of the morning baling, with Molly appearing every now and then to check up on them and add one more chore to their list. At noon Smokey had left to get dinner started, leaving Parker glumly eyeing the endless mound of hay left to bale. According to his new boss lady, after finishing with the hay, he was to shore up the timbers around the pigpen, then repair the chute at the end of the corral, put a new set of hinges on the bunkhouse door, clean the stable…what else? Parker plunged his baling fork into the ground and leaned backward, stretching out the muscles of his long back.
“Getting tired, cowboy?” Molly asked from behind him.
He turned around in annoyance. One of these days he was going to figure out how to hear her coming. “You part Indian or something?” he asked her.
She frowned. “No. Why?”
“’Cause you sure do know how to sneak up on a person.”
“That’s what you get for daydreaming on the job. I suppose you were pining away for whatever fancy pen-and-paper job you used to do back in New York City.”
“I worked in a bank.”
Molly gave a little laugh of triumph. “I suspected as much. Kind of hard to build up a sweat adding up numbers, isn’t it?”
She was wearing her typical oversize pants, but thanks to the warmth of the day she had discarded her ever-present baggy jacket and was wearing a blouse that looked almost feminine. Certainly the curves molded by the silky fabric looked feminine. She wasn’t as amply built as either of her sisters, but everything was most definitely in the right place.
Parker gave himself a shake. In Deadwood one night last spring when he’d been discouraged about his mine and homesick for his family back in New York, he’d sought solace at Mattie Smith’s tidy main street brothel. There he’d met Claire Devereaux, an almost ethereal beauty who had grown u
p as an orphan when her parents drowned on the family’s passage from France. She’d shared her hopes and dreams with Parker along with her perfect body, and he’d fallen irrevocably in love. When Claire had died in the dreadful smallpox epidemic that swept through Deadwood last fall, he’d thought it would be months—years, maybe—before he’d ever want a woman again. But it appeared that the body had a way of continuing to work even when the heart inside it was dead.
“I’ve built up a sweat or two in my day, Miss Molly,” he answered her quietly.
Something had flickered behind his eyes that made Molly pause. Her head was telling her that she would never get the upper hand with Parker Prescott unless she stayed on the attack, but her resolve kept weakening. She hated to think that she was as silly as Susannah and Mary Beth, dazzled by his easy charm and New York manners. “Well, you’ll sweat plenty while you’re working here,” she said finally. “But I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to go easy to start. Three days ago we didn’t even know if you were going to live through the night.”
“I’m ready to earn my keep.” He pulled up the fork and stabbed at a pile of hay.
Molly watched him work for a minute. Who’d have thought a tenderfoot Easterner could have shoulders like that? She backed away. “No, really, Mr. Prescott. You can stop now and come in for dinner.”
“Come in?”
She bit her lip. She’d set out this morning determined to establish her authority over her new hired hand. Instead, she felt even more tongue-tied than she had in the bunkhouse with him last night. “Yes, come in. Inside. We don’t have time to be settin’ up separate dining for just one lone cowboy,” she said, echoing Susannah’s arguments of the morning.
Parker turned toward her, the forkful of hay stopped in midair. “I’d be honored to join you and your sisters, Miss Molly, but only if you’ll call me Parker.”
She nodded.
“Fine. I’ll just wash up, then, and change my shirt.”
“No need for formalities at our table, Mr. Pres…Parker. We all know what a barn smells like.”
Parker grinned at her. “So do I, but it doesn’t mean I have to smell like one myself. There’re barn smells and there are man smells, Miss Molly. You might enjoy learning the difference one of these days.”
He threw the hay, fork and all, over onto the pile, then tipped his hat and walked away. Molly watched him head toward the bunkhouse, her cheeks flaming with a blush for the first time in her life.
After the first few moments it felt entirely natural to have Parker sitting at the big Lucky Stars dining-room table. Not long after Charlie Hanks’s death, Smokey had taken to joining the girls there. Parker sat opposite him, next to Susannah, while Molly took the hostess position at the end. No one sat in their father’s old place opposite her.
Their new hand’s presence had enlivened the meal. Molly couldn’t remember when the conversation had been so spirited, the laughter so frequent. Certainly not since Papa died. Parker seemed to know a lot about many things. He’d traveled all the way to Paris and had studied for a year at Harvard University before he’d become restless and returned to work at a bank in New York City. He was just a year older than Molly herself, but he’d seen and done wondrous things that she couldn’t imagine doing in an entire lifetime.
Of course, it might be that he was showing off a bit for Susannah. His conversation had been directed her way often enough during the meal. Molly studied the pair as he leaned his dark head toward Susannah’s blond one to catch something her sister was saying. Susannah was wearing a simple blue gingham gown today that made her eyes the deep blue of an autumn sky. The two made an attractive couple. Molly wondered if she should relax her guard a bit and see if anything developed between them. Susannah and Mary Beth had to find husbands at some point, and, goodness knows, there weren’t many candidates to choose from around Canyon City. As Molly drummed absently with her spoon on the table, Susannah gave one of her magical little laughs, bringing a flare of response from Parker’s bright eyes. It was an interesting thought…her sister and a Harvard man.
Suddenly he was addressing her. “So do you agree, Miss Molly?”
“I…I’m sorry. I guess I was daydreaming.”
“Dangerous practice,” Parker said gravely. A hint of a smile twitched his full lips. “You never know what kind of varmint might sneak up on you when you’re daydreaming.”
Molly gave a reluctant smile as Mary Beth explained, “Smokey was saying that with the weather this mild, the cattle should last until Christmas without extra food. Parker asked if you agreed.”
Parker’s gaze had moved back to Susannah. Molly took a deep breath. “Yes, I agree. And we’d better be right, because if we have a hard winter, we’re going to lose some animals. We don’t have too much supplementary feed left.”
Without looking back at her, Parker said, “You’ve forgotten about the thousand bales Smokey and I put up this morning.”
Smokey gave a great laugh that rumbled up from his belly to his beard. “It just felt like a thousand, lad. But you did a good job for your first day.”
“You shouldn’t make him work so hard yet, Molly,” Susannah objected.
“He was dreadfully sick, remember?” Mary Beth added.
Parker looked from one sister to another. He really did feel fully recovered. After their leisurely dinner he was ready to get back to work, but he had the feeling that it was in his best interests not to take sides in a discussion among the three girls, even when he was the topic.
“I’m not making him work,” Molly said. “I’m paying him to work. He’s the one who wanted the job.”
Susannah refused to give in. “You could at least let him ease into it a little. He’s been working since dawn. That’s enough for his first day. Why don’t you let me take him out on a tour of the ranch?”
When she’d come in from talking with Parker before lunch, Molly had had exactly the same idea herself. Except that she’d thought she would be the one to show their new man around. An easy ride around the spread would allow Parker a little more time to rest up, and she had found the thought of spending an afternoon with him pleasantly challenging. But she’d seen the instant enthusiasm in his face at Susannah’s suggestion, and she was sure it stemmed from the company not the ride. What male under the age of senility would not want to go riding with Susannah?
There was no trace left of the smile that had lit her face after Parker’s teasing. “All right. He can take Midnight.”
“Is something wrong with my horse?”
“Her legs swelled up after we pulled her out of the canyon. Nothing serious.”
“I should take a look at her.” When he’d had to leave Diamond in Canyon City, he’d hoped to be able to trade back for her some day. The big mare had been with him since he’d first arrived out West, and he had grown used to her company.
“Help yourself. But you’d do better on Midnight for your ride.”
Parker noted that her voice sounded stiffer than usual. “Are you sure you won’t be wanting to use Midnight yourself today?”
Molly pushed herself back from the table and stood. “Yes, I’m sure. Unlike some people, I need to stay around here and get some work done. If you’ll excuse me…”
Then she turned and left the table, leaving the four staring after her.
“Maybe we shouldn’t go,” Parker said after a moment.
“Oh, pooh,” Susannah scoffed. “Don’t mind Molly. She’s always grouchy.”
“It’ll be all right, Parker,” Mary Beth said gently.
And Smokey added his assurance. “You go on ahead, boy. The work’ll keep till tomorrow.”
“I don’t want Miss Molly to think I’m a shirker.”
Susannah stood and grabbed his arm. “She won’t think anything of the kind. It’s just that Molly doesn’t know what it means to have fun.”
Parker followed docilely along as Susannah pulled him out of the dining room. For a moment he felt a pang of sympathy for the oldest
Hanks sister. She was only a year older than Susannah, five years older than Mary Beth. He thought of his years growing up with Amelia. They were just a year apart, like Susannah and Molly. Often it had been just the two of them when their parents were off on one of their crusades. He’d protected Amelia, as Molly seemed to protect her sisters. But in return, Amelia had mothered him. They’d played, learned, fought, made up—experienced life together. His mind was still on the question as he and Susannah saddled up for their ride. Whose fault was it that Molly had grown up not knowing how to have fun?
Except where it had drifted up, the snow was almost gone. Obviously at this time of year, the warm weather wouldn’t last. But as they rode around the periphery of the Lucky Stars, Susannah pointing out landmarks along the way, the day had the feeling of spring.
“Isn’t it glorious?” Susannah shouted, flinging out her arms. And with Susannah in her black riding outfit and hat, her blond hair streaming out behind her, Parker decided that more than the weather was glorious.
They dismounted alongside a stream to let the horses drink and rest a spell. “This is called Cougar Creek,” she told Parker. “But the most dangerous critters you ever see along here are the fat old coons that come down to wash up their supper.”
They left their horses and started walking slowly downstream. “Do they really do that?”
“Sure they do. You really are a tenderfoot, aren’t you? Haven’t you ever seen a raccoon at a creek?”
Parker shook his head, then grinned at a sudden memory. “Back in Deadwood my sister put a berry pie out to cool in the creek by my cabin and a raccoon came along and ate the whole thing.”
“Well, of course it did. What raccoon would pass up a fresh berry pie? Your sister must be as much of a tenderfoot as you.”
“My sister’s an Eastern lady. I don’t think she’d ever fit in entirely out here. She’s back in New York City now, with her new husband.”
