Lucky Bride

by Ana Seymour

  Parker slid backward on the bunk to lean against the wall. Months had passed, he thought angrily. It shouldn’t be this hard. In Deadwood he hadn’t been able to talk about Claire’s death with anyone—not even his sister. But he’d headed west to make a new beginning. And part of that process should include freeing himself from the past, or at least turning the memories into friends instead of enemies who were set to shoot down every chance he had at happiness. “She’s dead,” he said tersely, and the words were even harder than he had feared.

  Molly waited for him to continue, but when he remained silent, she said, “I’m sorry.” Her throat was full and her eyes misted. And she was sorry. For Parker, for his poor lost love whose life had been cut short, and for herself—who had at long last torn down the wall she had built up around herself over the years, only to find a thicker, much more painful wall on the other side.

  Perhaps with time, perhaps if he would talk with her… “What was her name?” she asked gently.

  Parker’s expression had tightened. “Claire. Claire Devereaux.”

  He said the name as if it were poetry, and used, an odd, French inflection. “Was she French?” Molly asked.

  He stared into space, a bittersweet smile on his lips. “She was an orphan, born in France but raised in this country. She always wanted… we were going to go to Paris together. I was teaching her the language,” he added wistfully, now thoroughly lost in the memories.

  Molly could understand grief—she’d been through it recently enough with her father. But she felt her heart sinking as she listened to him talk about his beautiful French love. Someday Parker would love again, she felt certain. He had too much life in him to spend it longing for the past. But when he chose someone, it would hardly be a “boss lady” like Molly. His Claire had obviously been refined and delicate. An ethereal beauty, he described it. Which was just about as far from Molly Hanks of “Wyoming as that fancy Delmonico’s was from the Grizzly Bear Saloon. She’d been a fool to think a cultivated Easterner like Parker would ever fall for her.

  “And you’re still in love with her,” she said with a brittle smile.

  Parker winced. “It wouldn’t make sense to be in love with a ghost, now would it?”

  “Well, let me put it this way. You’re not yet ready to fall in love with anyone else.”

  His silence was achingly eloquent.

  She shivered. It felt as if a casing of ice was forming around her heart. This was what came of letting down the guard she’d carefully built up since she was twelve. She’d let herself be swept away by Parker’s charm and good looks, by the way his eyes smoldered when they looked at her, by the way his hands could make her body sing. Going against all the principles she’d established for herself, she’d been on the verge of trusting her happiness to a man.

  “I reckon what all this means, Parker,” she said stiffly, “is that I won’t be coming out to visit you nights anymore.”

  Parker’s dark eyes were unreadable. “If that’s the way you want it.”

  Tears sprang to her eyes and she blinked them back furiously. “That’s not the way I want it, as I think you well know.”

  He hung his head. “I’m sorry I can’t offer you everything you need, Molly.”

  “I’m sorry, too.”

  “Do you want me to leave?”

  She shook her head. “If you’re willing to stay on, I still need the help, especially now that spring’s coming.”

  “I’m willing,” he said in a low voice. “I’ll stay as long as you need me.”

  No, you won’t, Parker, she thought, pushing back a sob that wanted to fight its way out of her throat. Because that would mean you’d stay forever. There, she’d admitted it. She wasn’t just falling in love with him—she was already there, totally and irrevocably. But she would now take that love and tuck it away, as she had her crinolines and ribbons when she was twelve years old. She stood. “I appreciate that,” she said briskly. “I’ll try not to…confuse matters again.”

  Parker shook his head. “Molly, it doesn’t have to be like that….” He reached for her hand, but she’d already turned toward the door.

  She paused for a minute before leaving and, without looking back at him, said sadly, “I’m afraid it does, Parker. I’m afraid it has to be like that.”

  “Jeremy’s spitting mad about your sister,” Ned told Mary Beth after he had kissed her and tied up her horse outside the little abandoned cabin where they had met throughout the winter.

  She returned his embrace and stayed in the circle of his arm as they went inside. “What’s he angry about? He hasn’t even been around our place since the day you brought word about the mule.”

  “He’s been unhappy ever since the Christmas dance when he got the idea in his head that Molly was getting interested in that hired man of yours.”

  Mary Beth thought for a moment. “You know, I thought the same thing myself for a while. In fact, I was almost sure of it, but lately things have been different. I even asked Molly if they’d had a fight, but she told me to mind my own business.”

  Ned chuckled and pressed Mary Beth to his side. “She does tend to speak plain, doesn’t she?”

  Mary Beth smiled. “It’s just Molly’s way. We’re used to it. So it’s Parker that’s making your brother upset?”

  The cabin had no furniture, but they’d brought a collection of old quilts and blankets and made a little nest for themselves in front of the big stone fireplace, which Ned had supplied with plenty of wood. He gestured for her to sit down while he began to build up a fire. “No, it’s not just the cowhand. He’s riled because evidently Molly talked to the territorial marshal about the night Ole Pedersson was hanged.”

  “Oh! She was dreadfully disturbed by all that.”

  “Well, I wasn’t there that night, as you well know, Bethy.” He leaned down and gave her a kiss on the mouth. “But Pa says that he and Jeremy told Molly that a posse was no place for a lady, and she just wouldn’t listen.”

  Mary Beth hugged her knees tightly as she defended her sister. “Don’t you think that’s a little beside the point, Ned? Males or females—the posse had no right to hang a man without a fair trial.”

  Ned dropped a match on his carefully stacked fire, then eased down beside her with a sigh. “Don’t you turn all preachy now like your sister. She’ll have you sounding like one of those—what do you call them— female suffragers.”

  “Suffragists,” she corrected. “And there’s certainly nothing wrong with that. It’s only logical to think that women should be able to have a voice in the way they’re governed.”

  Ned groaned. “I suppose next you and your sisters will decide to ride on into town and chop up the Grizzly Bear with a hatchet.”

  “Why, Ned Dickerson, you’re being mean. Just because we believe women should be treated fairly. We aren’t even teetotalers.”

  He tumbled her backward on the blanket. “Are we having our first fight, my love? Because I’ve heard that making up can be an awful lot of fun.”

  “I declare, Ned. Sometimes it seems that’s the only thing you think about.” Her smile softened the words.

  His voice lowered as he began to kiss her. “It’s hard to think about anything else when I’m with you, Bethy. I can’t seem to get enough of you.”

  “I know. I’ll be glad when my birthday comes and we can be together openly—all the time.”

  “All the time,” he agreed, nuzzling her neck.

  “And your family won’t object? It won’t matter that Jeremy’s angry with my sister?”

  “It sure as hell won’t matter to me,” he said fervently. “Jeremy and Molly will just have to work things out for themselves. He still plans to marry her, you know. I’ve heard him say so.”

  Mary Beth widened her eyes in surprise. “Well, he’s got a funny way of showing it—getting angry and ignoring her for weeks on end.”

  “Jeremy’s not the courtin’ type. And I don’t mean to hurt your feelings, Bethy, but Mo
lly’s not exactly the type of woman who inspires that kind of thing.”

  Mary Beth set her mouth in a firm line. “Inspired or not—if your brother wants to marry Molly, he’d better start taking a few pains to show her so.”

  Ned stopped kissing her as he thought for a moment about her remark. “You may be right, Bethy. I’ll pass along your advice.”

  “To what do we owe the pleasure, Jeremy? Have more of my animals managed to find their way over to your place?”

  Molly’s tone was more caustic than usual. She hadn’t slept well for the past week since her break with Parker. And, in general, life just didn’t seem very joyous to her at the moment. She was faced with mounting debts and dwindling money. She’d have to try to sell off a good portion of her herd this summer. But first she had to find the men who would help her round them up and brand all the ones they’d missed last year. The household wasn’t being of much help. Mary Beth still had that odd, dreamy look about her. Susannah had begun taking off regularly on excursions with some of the other young folks in the neighborhood. One night last week Fred Baumgarten had brought her home close to midnight and Molly had smelled sherry on her breath! Smokey was continuing to see Max on a regular basis. And Parker had taken to riding in with him. Molly had no idea what he’d found in town to occupy himself—one of the dance girls at the Grizzly, probably. Anyway, as he had told her when she’d inquired, what he did once his chores were completed wasn’t her concern.

  “I just came to see you, Molly,” Jeremy said almost sweetly. “I’ve brought you a cattle magazine I thought you’d find interesting.”

  Molly reached out for the publication. It was not as romantic a gift as Parker’s candies, but it was much more practical. Sort of like the difference between Parker and Jeremy themselves. And it felt good to have someone paying attention to her. She smiled. “Thank you, Jeremy. That was very thoughtful.”

  “You may not believe that I think about you, Molly, but I do. If I haven’t been around much this winter, it was only because it seemed that you weren’t that interested in having me here.”

  “I’m always happy to have you here, Jeremy, except when you start barking and telling me what to do.”

  He laughed. “Fair enough. I’ll try to be less authoritative if you’ll try to be a little more willing to listen to my suggestions. I only have your welfare at heart, you know.”

  Molly nodded. The welfare of her ranch was what he meant. But he’d come with a peace offering and she was in the mood to accept it. She held out her hand. “It’s a deal.”

  She ushered him into the small formal sitting room on the other side of the hall from the family parlor. It made her feel a little uncomfortable, because they never used this room. The last time had been when the minister had come to talk with them about her father’s funeral.

  “Shall I tell Smokey that you’re staying to supper?” she asked him.

  “I was hoping to convince you to ride back with me to the Lazy D. I’d like to have you spend more time there, Molly.”

  From virtually ignoring her for most of the winter he was suddenly sounding once again like a suitor. It was almost as if he had known about her temporary detour to Parker and knew that after her hired hand’s rejection, she was more vulnerable than ever before. “I’ve always enjoyed visiting the Lazy D,” she said carefully. “But I’ve work yet to do today. Perhaps I could ride over with my sisters some day later this week.”

  They were sitting on either end of the straightbacked sofa. He leaned toward her and said, “Your sisters are welcome, of course, but I was hoping that I’d be able to have you to myself for once. I think we need time alone together.”

  Molly felt a great lump at the base of her throat. This wasn’t the way it was supposed to feel. Obviously, Jeremy was trying to court her. It had, after all, been talked about between their fathers since Molly and Jeremy had been children. But instead of making her feel excited at the prospect of finding someone to share her life with, it was making her want to weep. She’d found only one person with whom she wanted to share, and he wasn’t interested. But she’d be darned if she’d cry in front of Jeremy. Or anyone else, for that matter.

  “I’d be happy to come by myself, Jeremy. Would Thursday be convenient?”

  He stood and bent over her hand. “I’ll be looking forward to it.”

  “So will I,” she lied.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Parker had started to like Harry Tichenor. It had taken some time to warm up to the taciturn marshal, but now that they had ridden out together several times and ended more than one evening sharing a bottle at the Grizzly, he’d begun to appreciate the man’s honesty and simple value system. To Harry, there was no such thing as bending the law. In a wild territory like Wyoming most marshals wouldn’t have spent a day investigating the lynching of a town drunk. Nor, Parker imagined, would most marshals have taken the time to listen to Parker’s suspicions about the problems at the Lucky Stars ranch. Marshal Tichenor did both and promised Parker that he wouldn’t be giving up on either matter until some kind of resolution had been reached—even if it took months or years. He was just that kind of man.

  The first day Parker had ridden into town to look for the marshal, he’d found him in the restaurant at the Grand Hotel. Tichenor had told him that he had decided against using Sheriff Benton’s office as a base for his investigation. For some time he hadn’t much approved of Benton’s version of justice in Canyon City, he’d explained to Parker, but he hadn’t had any real leads to go after him until now.

  Parker was happy to help out. For one thing, he believed in what the marshal was doing, and, for another, it gave him a good excuse to spend a lot of time away from the Lucky Stars. The two men sometimes met at McClanahan’s Bath House, since it afforded some privacy and was run by a woman who could be trusted to keep her mouth shut. But today they’d been out to interview one of the men who’d been part of the posse, and when they came back they decided they’d stop at the Grizzly before calling it a night.

  “So if we can get Overstreet’s testimony along with mine, will that be enough for a hearing?” Parker asked as they walked along the sidewalk toward the saloon. The main street of town was nearly deserted and the early-March wind blew down the center of it like a freight train.

  “Along with Miss Hanks’s statement.”

  “I was hoping we could leave her out of this.”

  Tichenor stopped and turned to his new friend. “You’ve got it bad for that gal, haven’t you?”

  Parker rubbed his whiskery chin. He couldn’t remember the last time he had shaved, but it had been several days. “No. Molly Hanks is my boss, nothing more.”

  Tichenor’s face remained impassive except for one errant eyebrow that shot way up. “If I were a betting man, that’s one bluff I’d call in a heartbeat, Prescott.”

  Parker gave a reluctant smile. “She’s quite a woman, I’ll grant you. But I’m not the man for her. She needs someone who can settle down with her and help her save her precious ranch.”

  “Someone like Jeremy Dickerson?”

  Parker shrugged. “I guess he’s the most likely candidate.”

  “He’s a sidewinder, far as I can tell.”

  “I’ve gotten the same impression, but Susannah tells me that he’s starting to act a bit more decent these days. She thinks he may really be in love with Molly.” Parker ignored the roiling in his gut that started every time he thought about Molly and Dickerson together. She’d been riding over to the Dickerson ranch regularly the past couple of weeks.

  “Now, that Susannah…she’s special.”

  Parker looked over at the marshal, amazed at the vehemence of his observation. In his several meetings with Harry, he’d never known him to get that excited about anything. “She’s easy on the eyes, that’s for sure,” Parker agreed.

  “Easy! Hell, she’s downright blistering on the eyes, if you ask me. I’ve never seen such a beauty.”

  Parker chuckled. “Sounds to me
like you’re smitten, marshal. Is that allowed when you’re on duty?”

  Harry shook his head and laughed. “No. Why do you think I’m spending my evening with a lousy, no-account cowpoke like you instead of camped out on her doorstep?”

  “Hey, there, you’ll offend Max if you call me lousy. She makes sure I bathe at least once a month, delousing included.”

  They both were laughing when they suddenly became aware that two men had come up quietly behind them. “You’re just the man we wanted to see, Marshal.”

  Parker recognized Jeremy Dickerson’s arrogant tone. They turned around to face him and his companion, Sheriff Benton. “What can I do for you, gentlemen?” Tichenor asked quietly.

  “I understand you’ve been asking a lot of questions about the night some of us were deputized by the sheriff here to help him with a legal matter.”

  “If you’re referring to the night Ole Pedersson was hanged, I am. It seems a report was never filed on the incident.”

  “It was a local matter,” Benton chimed in. “No need to go to the territory with it.”

  “All capital offenses go through the territory, Benton. You should know that much, at least.”

  Dickerson smiled and clapped a hand on Tichenor’s shoulder. “Hell, Marshal, Ole’s been cold in his grave for months now, and to tell the truth he wasn’t any good to anybody when he was still warm. Can’t we just let the thing rest? I know my pa’d appreciate it. And it never hurts to have the Lazy D on your side when it comes to those damned territorial politics. Why, I’ve heard that men get their jobs whisked out from under them faster than you can say Jack Sprat. Good men, sometimes.”

  The implication was lost on no one, but Tichenor’s calm expression didn’t waver by so much as a hair. “I’ll be sure and let you and your father know the outcome of my investigation, Mr. Dickerson. Now, if you’ll excuse us, my friend and I were about to go in for a beer.”

  Dickerson shot a look at Parker. “One more thing, Marshal. I believe you’ve interrogated Molly Hanks on this matter.”