Lucky Bride

by Ana Seymour

  He followed her back to the barn at a distance, not eager for conversation in his current state of mind. She’d already tended to her horse and gone into the house by the time he came in, but Smokey was standing in the middle of the barn, idly examining a row of cinches that were draped across one of the stalls.,

  “Haven’t you frozen your behind enough for one day, you old biscuit shooter?” Parker called to him, jumping from his horse. “What are you doing out here?”

  Smokey did not smile at his taunt. “I was waiting for you, I reckon.”

  Parker led his horse toward its stall and began to remove the bridle. “What’s the matter?”

  “I wanted to show you something. See what you make of it.”

  Parker left his horse saddled and walked over to the cook. “Is there something wrong with the cinches?”

  “No. But something else is wrong. The roof was dripping out back—melted away a patch of snow. And underneath it I found this.” He reached behind the stall wall and pulled out a dirty cloth bag.

  Parker took it from him and examined it. “What is it?”

  “Looks to me like a fifty-pound sack of sugar.”

  Smokey’s voice was grave, but Parker had no idea why. “Did someone steal it from your kitchen, or something?”

  “I’ve never seen it before. But all I know is that it’s empty and I found it in back of our barn—the same barn where them heifers took sick.”

  Realization slowly dawned. “You mean sugar could have made them bloat up like that? I thought it was bad alfalfa that did it.”

  “Those calves didn’t have any alfalfa. There wasn’t anything out here that could have made them sick like that.” He reached out and took the bag back from Parker. “Unless they had help doing it.”

  Parker felt a little sick himself. “Why in hell would anyone do something like that? Do you think it was some of the cowboys in town who’ve been kicking up trouble about a woman trying to run a ranch?”

  Smokey shrugged. “I don’t know. It’d take someone belly high to a snake for something that mean.”

  “Have you told Molly?”

  “Nope. She got so darned upset when she thought she was going to lose these animals, I just don’t have the heart to make it worse for her.”

  “But she’s got to know.”

  Smokey put a hand on Parker’s shoulder. “Molly’s got the responsibility for every darned thing that goes on around this place. Maybe this is one little item you and I should keep to ourselves.”

  “But we should be notifying the sheriff, looking for the culprits.”

  Smokey gave a snort of disgust. “Sheriff Benton’s about as good as a street lamp when it comes to solving problems. And how would we go about tracking down the varmints who did this? We don’t have any more clues than one empty bag of sugar—the kind any sidewinder with cash can buy any day of the week over at Simon’s store.”

  Parker looked from the empty sack over to the three surviving heifers, chewing contentedly in their stall. “It seems to me that Molly should know.”

  “Then you tell her. I’m not giving her one more damned thing to worry about.”

  Parker took in a deep breath. “If we don’t say anything, it’ll be up to you and me to keep watch around here. We can hope this was a one-time trick by some mean-spirited cowboy with a grudge against women. But if anything else happens…”

  Smokey nodded. “We’ll keep our eyes open. If that varmint shows his face again around here, we’ll be ready for him.”

  In a rare girlish gesture Molly had decided to play Cupid and had invited Max McClanahan to dine with them on New Year’s Eve. She’d known it would be a difficult occasion, ushering in the first New Year they would spend without their father. Last year at this time he had just developed the hacking cough that would finally ravage him and take his life.

  Jeremy Dickerson had ridden over earlier with an invitation for them all to dine at the Lazy D, but, to Parker’s relief, Molly had greeted him coolly and had sent regrets to his father.

  Max arrived well before supper, riding out from town in her own little two-wheeled buggy. Molly, after a few moments of indecision, had once again donned the silver dress.

  “Land sakes, girl,” Max boomed. “You look like the fairy queen in that thing. Who’d have thought it? I always knew you’d decide to come out of your cocoon one of these days, and that when you did, you’d be the prettiest butterfly of all.”

  They were up in Molly’s bedroom, waiting for the supper hour. “It’s just the dress,” Molly said, pleased.

  “Hogwash. It’s the girl in the dress, just the way I’ve always told you. You’re a rare one, Molly, and it was about time you came into your own and started to realize it.” She cocked her head at the blushing girl. “It appears to me that handsome pilgrim you hired on knows it well enough.”

  Molly turned away to look in the mirror as she combed her hair. She’d decided to leave it down tonight. “What a thing to say, Max,” she said, keeping her voice casual.

  “You sayin’ he’s not interested?”

  “Of course not. He did look hard a time or two at Susannah when he first came, but we straightened that out. Now he just works for us. He’s a decent man.”

  Max barked a laugh. “No man’s that decent. If he doesn’t look at Susannah anymore it’s ‘cause he’s spending all his time mooning over you.”

  Molly pulled hard at the tangles. “That’s ridiculous. He… he calls me boss lady.”

  “And I call him pilgrim—doesn’t mean I want to pray with him.” She gave a comical waggle of her eyebrows.

  Molly laughed. “He is attractive, isn’t he?”

  “Criminy, child, he’s downright bonny. Smart, too. And if you want my advice, you’ll go after him.”

  “I’ve always valued your advice, Max, but this is one time where you’re dead wrong. Imagine what a coil it would be to get mixed up with one of my drovers. I’d never get the men in the territory to take me seriously.”

  “They don’t take you seriously now, so what’s the difference? And what do you care, anyway? Where’s the twelve-year-old girl who decided she’d dress and act and live exactly the way she pleased?”

  Molly put the brush down with a grimace into the mirror. She should have put her wispy, flyaway hair up after all, but it was too late now. Turning around to Max she said wistfully, “I think she still feels like she’s twelve sometimes.”

  Max stood up from the bed, put her plump arm around Molly’s shoulders and gave her a hug. “So do we all, child,” she said. “So do we all.”

  Max’s words wouldn’t leave her head all through supper. Smokey had outdone himself again with pork roast and apple sage dressing, but she scarcely tasted the food. Parker had on his silk shirt tonight with a black jacket that Molly couldn’t remember having seen before. He looked every bit the gallant, but, for the life of her, she could detect no difference in his treatment toward the women at the table. He complimented Mary Beth on her hair and teased Susannah about her dimples. He pulled out Molly’s chair at the beginning of the meal and said that he’d never begun a New Year with such a collection of feminine beauty. He even had Max blushing with his blatant flattery, leaving poor Smokey shifting in his chair and searching for something to say that would compete.

  Molly had meant what she’d said to Max. It would be ridiculous to think about any kind of relationship with Parker. But the very fact that she was analyzing the possibility, she had to admit, showed how much the idea had been on her mind. The year was about to turn. Perhaps it was time for her to turn over a new page, too. Thanks to her father, she had no experience with men, at least not in these areas. Romance had always been something for simpering females— for dime novels and opry houses. Molly had had a ranch to run.

  The paperback novels that Mary Beth read always had the hero saving the heroine from a dire fate and finally, on the last page, kissing her. The end. Parker had already kissed her. But somehow Molly had the feeling th
at that wasn’t the end of it, not by a long shot.

  “I’m too damn old to stay up till all hours just to hear a clock chime,” Smokey complained as they finished cleaning up the supper dishes.

  Max took his arm and said, “I’ll sing to you, you old coot, and keep you awake.”

  “You’ve got to stay up, Smokey,” Mary Beth had agreed.

  The others had added their urging, so they had all gathered in the parlor and built up the fire for the evening. And for a pleasant while Max did sing to them—barroom ballads that she had learned during her days in the Colorado silver mining towns. Some were a touch scandalous, but she sang those verses quickly, and with such an impish look on her face, that no one thought to be offended.

  When she declared that her golden throat would not warble a single note more, Molly suggested popcorn, in spite of the big supper they’d had. If nothing else, it would give them something to do as they all battled yawns, waiting for the hall clock to chime twelve times.

  “I’ll heat up some cider to go with it,” Smokey said, but Parker stood and motioned him to stay in his chair.

  “You’ve done your share today. Let me fix it. What do I put in it?”

  “Just a little cinnamon and cloves—not too much.”

  “I think I can handle that,” he said with a grin and started toward the kitchen.

  Susannah jumped up to follow him. “I’ll help,” she said, and the two disappeared behind the kitchen door.

  Molly watched them go, hoping that the sudden twist she’d had inside hadn’t been jealousy. After all, Max had said that it was Molly whom Parker appeared to be interested in. And she was the one he’d kissed. He was always nice to Susannah, even flirtatious at times, but since that first day when they had ridden out together, Molly had seen to it that they had never been alone. There was no way Parker could have kissed her sister the way he had kissed her on three separate occasions.

  “Do you want to do the corn?” Mary Beth asked her, taking the long-handled popper down from its hook next to the fire.

  “No, you do it,” Molly answered absently.

  Smokey boosted himself from his armchair. “Popping corn takes an expert hand, ladies. If you’ll permit me…” He reached for the popper and Mary Beth surrendered it to him with a giggle.

  “I always suspected you’d be an expert hand, Smokey,” Max said coyly. Smokey turned around and winked at her.

  “I’ll just see if they need help with the cider,” Molly said suddenly. She jumped up and marched toward the kitchen. She didn’t know why she’d suddenly felt so uneasy. But she discovered the reason as she pushed open the kitchen door.

  A jug of cider sat on the kitchen table next to an empty pan and a bottle of cinnamon. Behind it, Susannah stood with her back pressed against the stove. Her arms were around Parker’s neck, and he was kissing her.

  Chapter Twelve

  Molly felt as if her throat was closing, choking off her air. At the creak of the door, Parker and Susannah broke apart. Both their heads snapped toward her. “Molly!” Susannah exclaimed. Then she took a step backward.

  Parker frowned, his eyes troubled. “It’s not her fault,” he said. “I… ah… we were just wishing each other happy New Year.”

  Molly tried to swallow, but the saliva had pooled in the back of her throat. Susannah came toward her. “Molly, you look as if you’d been shot. It was just a silly kiss.” She came up to her sister and embraced her lightly. “It’s like I told you, I’m a big girl now. You don’t have to be watching out for me all the time.”

  Molly let herself be hugged. Susannah’s lavender fragrance seemed overpowering, and for a moment she thought she might be sick.

  “It wasn’t what you’re thinking, Molly,” Parker said again.

  Molly put her hands back against the doorjamb for support and spoke as steadily as she could. “This is my fault. I’ve made a mistake letting you get so close to all of us, Parker. It’s not the way a ranch should be run.”

  He narrowed his eyes and watched her for a long moment. Then he said lightly, “Don’t fraternize with the help. That’s the rule, right?”

  “No.” Her voice was hard. “The rule is, don’t let the help lay hands on my sister. I want you to move back into the bunkhouse—tonight. And in the future you’ll come into this house only for meals.”

  “Molly, I was the one—” Susannah began in distress, but Parker interrupted her.

  “That’s all right, Susannah. Your sister’s the boss around here, remember? She’s the one who pays me, which means she gives the orders.” His jaw was set, his eyes dark.

  “That’s right, I do,” Molly said, unrelenting.

  He studied her for another minute, then strode across the kitchen and pushed his way past her out the door. Neither Susannah nor Molly moved until they heard the big front door close with a convincing slam.

  Parker had not asked permission to ride into town. He’d be darned if he’d spend another Sunday all by himself out in the bunkhouse freezing his hindquarters. It had been three weeks since the New Year’s Eve debacle and, though the January weather had been mild, the atmosphere around the Lucky Stars had been colder than a Canadian norther.

  On three occasions Parker had cornered Molly alone to try to discuss the matter, but she’d waved away his explanations. It didn’t help that he felt one hundred percent in the wrong, even though Susannah had been the instigator of the kiss.

  There had always been a flirtatious side to Susannah, but lately she seemed to be developing it with more confidence and determination. It was as if her declaration of independence to Molly when Parker had first arrived had boosted her one step up into womanhood, and she was reveling in the newfound power. At the Christmas night party she’d seemed utterly in control as the young swains of the territory practically worshiped at her feet. It had made it easier for Parker not to feel bad about his increasing preference for Molly. He’d been sure that, though Susannah found him attractive, she’d not be unduly upset over his lack of attention. But New Year’s Eve he’d been the only man around, except for Smokey, and it appeared that Susannah was disposed to reach out and take what was available.

  “I’ve never kissed a boy on New Year’s, Parker,” she’d said, smiling and throwing her arms around him.

  Nevertheless, he’d been at fault for not pushing her away immediately. Though he’d never been shy with the ladies and had been told a time or two that he was a more than adequate lover, he’d never been one to take lovemaking lightly. When he’d kissed Molly, it had been because she was the one who had captured his attention. He never had any intention of letting his earlier flirtation with her sister develop one bit further. He was horrified to think that in the same week he’d kissed two sisters. Molly had a right to be angry. But he also had a right to be heard with his side of the story, and she hadn’t given him that chance. He’d tried three times, and that was enough. From now on he’d forget about both sisters. He’d work another couple of months, stay out in the bunkhouse where he belonged and then be on his way.

  But today he’d enjoy himself, try to find some people who would talk to him without turning their noses up as if he smelled bad. Max, for example. The big woman’s hearty humor was exactly what he needed at the moment, he decided, turning his horse toward the bathhouse.

  Music was floating out from inside the Grizzly Bear, and there was a crowd inside from the looks of it through the frosted glass door. No Sunday liquor ordinances in Canyon City, apparently. Perhaps the Grizzly would be his next stop. He’d learned back in Deadwood that whiskey didn’t help much when it came to drowning out grief and loneliness, but at least there’d be noise there, and friendly people.

  Max was sitting in her front waiting area in a rocker, knitting.

  “You look like my saintly old grandma,” Parker teased as he walked in. The room was steamy compared to the cold outside air. Sunday must be bath day for a lot of folks.

  “Saintly, my arse,” she boomed, throwing the kni
tting to one side of her chair. “Come in, pilgrim, and let me look at you.”

  Parker closed the door behind him and walked over to take a seat on a little stool near her chair. “Don’t you want to wait until I’m in the tub?” he teased.

  “I’ll look then, too. But first I want to talk to you and ask you what in tarnation happened out at your place on New Year’s. Molly was madder than a dog with his first porcupine, and she wouldn’t tell anyone what was going on.”

  Parker stretched his feet out from the low stool with a big sigh. “Remember how I went to fix the cider?” At her nod, he continued, “Well, Susannah followed me. When Molly came to find us, we were kissing.”

  Max looked troubled. “I never took you for one of them dirty, four-flusher types, pilgrim. Wasn’t one sister enough for you?”

  “It wasn’t like that. Susannah all of a sudden said she wanted a New Year’s kiss and threw her arms around me.”

  “And, of course, she’s so big and strong and you’re so puny that you couldn’t fight her off.”

  He shrugged. “It all happened so fast. I’ve apologized and I’ve tried to explain to Molly, but she’ll hardly even talk to me. More than once I’ve thought of packing up my gear and riding on out of there.”

  “So why haven’t you?”

  This wasn’t the kind of distraction he’d been looking for today. He’d wanted some music and laughter and a good hot bath where he wouldn’t have to go over and over his own thoughts the way he had been for the past three weeks. He was tired of thinking about it.

  “Hell, Max. I don’t know. I guess because I promised Molly I’d stick it out through the spring. No one else seems willing to hire on out there, and she’s worked so hard to keep the place going.” He reached to rub the back of his neck. Max sat back in her chair, a slow smile creeping across her face as he continued, “And she’s sitting there at the mercy of that mangy cur, Dickerson—”