Lucky Bride

by Ana Seymour

  Jeremy grabbed his right hand with a cry of rage as his gun clattered to the floor, shot right out of his hand.

  “Nice shooting, Prescott,” the marshal said, quickly stepping over to retrieve the fallen weapon.

  All at once Mary Beth was in Ned’s arms. Molly threw down her rifle and raced inside, meeting Susannah in a sobbing embrace halfway across the room.

  From the back window Smokey hollered at the two cowhands, “Don’t you varmints even think about moving.”

  Parker echoed the sentiments, leaning in the front window over shards of glass. “I’ll shoot off the first hand that reaches for a gun.”

  “Hell, Tichenor. I can’t believe you take on ruthless killers without flinching, and then shuffle your feet like a bashful schoolboy about facing one pretty female.”

  Parker and the marshal had met for dinner at the Grand Hotel. It had been a long week for both of them. Tichenor had sent for two deputies to transport Dickerson and Sam Benton to Laramie for trial and had spent the rest of the week getting statements from everyone involved in all of Dickerson’s illegal activities—Johnny the Oyster’s murder, the poisoning of the Lucky Stars cattle and, finally, the kidnapping of Mary Beth and Susannah.

  Parker hadn’t had time to help him out. Once Hiram had understood what his son had done, he’d insisted that Molly would have the help of as many Lazy D hands as she needed to get her ranch back into operation. Characteristically, she hadn’t taken time to brood about what had happened. As soon as she was sure that neither Mary Beth nor Susannah would suffer any lasting effects from their misadventure, she’d chosen a group of Lazy D cowhands and had started in rounding up the cattle that had gone unbranded last year.

  Parker had joined the work party, though he didn’t know that he’d been of much help. The men from the Lazy D were skilled and efficient. They did their jobs quickly, without much talk and without offering to give much advice to a tenderfoot from back East who was much too pretty to be a wrangler.

  He’d done his best, but with Molly retreating into another of her distant, boss-lady humors, he was happy to get the summons from Harry.

  “You’re one to talk,” the marshal answered him back. “You’ve been sick in love with that tough little cowgirl since I first met you, and now you say you’re thinking about skedaddling off to California. So who’s the bigger coward?”

  Parker grinned. “I guess the bravest man’s a coward when it comes to women. But, honestly, Susannah’s a sweetheart. You ought to let her know how you’re feeling.”

  “And just how do I do that, my Lothario friend? I can see how much luck you’ve had.” Parker gave a rueful shrug. “That quiet-mannered Ned Dickerson’s shown us both up, I guess. We ought to ask him for advice.”

  “He’s too busy planning his wedding,” Tichenor noted.

  “Yeah,” Parker agreed glumly.

  “So, will you talk to her for me or not?”

  Parker gave an exasperated laugh. “Yes, my friend, I’ll talk to her. I’ll tell her you’re quaking in your boots at the thought of speaking to her, but you think she’s prettier than a field of primroses.”

  “You could leave out the quaking part, but the primrose sounds nice.”

  Parker slapped his friend on the shoulder. “You see, Harry? You do have a romantic soul. Susannah’s as good as hooked.”

  Parker’s mood grew gloomier as he rode back out to the ranch. Seeing tough Marshal Tichenor so smitten had given him a good laugh, but his friend’s infatuation made Parker’s apparent failure all the harder to take. It had been bad enough watching Ned and Mary Beth cooing like lovebirds all week long. Ned had practically moved into the Lucky Stars ranch house and was riding out with his men every day to help Molly with the branding.

  She had plenty of help these days. Parker was superfluous, and evidently she’d come to that conclusion, too. She’d spoken to him only briefly the entire week. If he hadn’t promised Mary Beth that he’d stay on for the wedding, he’d already be on his way to California.

  Mary Beth and Ned had the big parlor to themselves when he came in the front door. They were snuggling on the sofa in front of the fireplace and barely acknowledged his entrance with two halfhearted waves.

  He found Susannah in the kitchen, punching a big white mass of bread dough. “Who are you mad at?” he teased as she pummeled it with her slender fists.

  She made a face at him. “I’m just getting this ready to rise overnight, but I could be mad at you, Parker Prescott.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “You were talking with Smokey about heading off to California,” she accused.

  “Guilty.”

  “I’ve never heard such plumb fool nonsense.”

  Parker frowned in confusion. “I always said that I’d stay as long as you all needed the help. Molly doesn’t need me anymore—she’s got lots of better cowhands.”

  She picked up the entire mass and slammed it down on the table. “What is it about you men that makes you so blind about the things that count the most?”

  Parker sighed and pulled a chair out opposite her. When Susannah had something on her mind she was almost as relentless as Molly about getting it said. “All right, enlighten me. What am I blind about?”

  “About Molly. ‘She doesn’t need me,’” she mimicked. “Tarnation, Parker, my sister’s in love with you—how much more does a man have to be needed?”

  Parker leaned his chin heavily on his hand. “I don’t think so, Susannah. She’s hardly talked to me.”

  “Because she’s as mule headed as you are. You had a fight about her going over to Dickerson’s. As things turned out, you were right, and now she says you think she’s nothing but a difficult, stubborn boss lady and you want nothing to do with her.”

  “And just how did she come to this brilliant conclusion?”

  “She says you’ve been paying all your attention this week to me and Mary Beth, which shows that what you really want in life is a sweet, docile female like the one you lost back in Deadwood.”

  That shut him up for a minute. Claire had been sweet and, yes, docile. And he wondered, suddenly, if that would have been enough for him if they had had a chance to spend a lifetime together. When he compared her now to Molly…

  “Where is she?” he asked wearily.

  Susannah gave the bread a final pummel and plopped it into the rising bowl. “I don’t know. Out in the barn with her precious animals, I suppose.”

  Parker stood and turned toward the door. “Ned’s horse isn’t out there, is it?”

  “No, it’s hitched around at the side. Why?”

  “Because we might not want to be disturbed for a while.”

  Susannah smiled. “You’re not going off to California, are you, Parker?”

  “Maybe not. If I can scare me up a better offer.”

  Her dimples deepened. “Good luck.”

  He half opened the door, then stopped. “Oh, Susannah, I almost forgot. Harry Tichenor’s sweet on you and wants to know if you’ll let him come courting. He should be here in about half an hour.”

  Then he swung out the door, leaving Susannah with her hands in the bread dough, her mouth hanging wide open.

  Molly looked around the barn with some satisfaction. The three heifers who had stayed here all winter were gone—duly branded and off to join the big guys out on the range. The barn itself had been completely cleaned and spruced up by some of the Lazy D crew. In general the ranch was working at the moment the way Molly had always hoped and dreamed that it would. The men had taken her orders without a qualm. Of course, Ned had been around most of the time, but she’d sensed that once they had seen her riding out there with them, working as hard as anyone, the cowhands had begun to develop a measure of respect for her, in spite of her being a woman.

  She should be happier.

  She was happy, darn it. And she wasn’t going to let anything spoil it. Not even the fact that Parker had spent most of the week hanging back with her sisters and was pr
obably this very moment packing up his gear to leave.

  “Evenin’, boss lady.”

  She jumped. “You been trained by the Indians, Parker?” she asked, echoing the conversation they had had when he’d first come to the ranch—what now seemed like ages ago.

  “Caught you daydreaming, did I? What were you dreaming about?”

  She gripped the stall gate she’d just closed. “I wasn’t dreaming. I was just thinking about how far the ranch has come in the past week.”

  “The Lazy D men have been very helpful.”

  Molly gave a rueful laugh. “As terrible as this has been for everyone, I guess it’s turning out that Jeremy was right. I did need his help. Maybe if I’d admitted that a year ago, none of this tragedy would have happened.”

  “Or maybe by now you’d be dead so he could really take control here.”

  She turned around to face him directly. “I haven’t thanked you for what you did that night. That was some mighty fine shooting, tenderfoot.”

  “Yeah. At least I’ve learned a couple things since I came West.”

  “You’ve learned a lot.”

  “Not how to rope. Did you see me out there today?”

  She’d seen little else, but she wasn’t about to tell him that. Not if he was really thinking of leaving for California. “I understand you might be heading on out of here.”

  He watched her eyes carefully as she said the words, her tone casual. She’d never make a good poker player. Susannah had been right again. “Well, with all the help you’ve got now, it doesn’t appear as if I’m doing you much good.”

  “So you are leaving?”

  He walked up to her, very close, and spoke in a low voice. “I hear tell there’s finally going to be a wedding on the Lucky Stars.”

  She nodded, her face tensing as he drew near. She was wearing one of those linen shirts tucked into her buckskin trousers. The fabric stretched full over her breasts, then gathered at her small waist. Below her waist the buckskin clung to her hips like a second skin. She looked about as masculine as a pink ribbon. Parker licked his suddenly dry lips as sensitive portions of his body shared urgent messages.

  “I still think Mary Beth’s too young,” she said. She glanced down, unavoidably seeing his obvious state of arousal. Her voice grew raspy. “What do you think?”

  Parker kept coming, slowly, backing her flat against the gate. “I think if I don’t kiss you right this minute, I’m going to explode.”

  His lips barely touched hers at first, then, when her arms crept up to encircle his neck, he took her mouth more fully, holding her very still, letting their lips and tongues do all the work. She made a move to caress him with one hand, but he grabbed her wrist and pinned it against the gate, all the while continuing the devastating kisses. It was long, hazy moments later that he loosened his hold, leaned his forehead against hers and said almost reverently, “I want you, Molly. I want you so bad that I can’t even see straight. But I’ve also discovered that I’m head over heels in love. I thought I came out West to find something I was missing in my life back home. And it turns out I was right. Only it’s not a gold mine—it’s you.”

  Molly had felt the tears of happiness well up the moment he reached the word love. In one magical word, all her doubts, the insecurities, the jealousy of her sisters, all disappeared. She was loved. She was loved by a man who was handsome, charming, funny, a crack shot, a blatant flatterer, a terrible roper, a tenderfoot who knew nothing about ranching but would probably continue to try to order her around if he thought it was for her own good. “We’ll fight,” she said, but her heart was soaring.

  He pulled his head away and looked at her, then wiped at one of the tears with the pad of his thumb. “We sure will, boss lady. And then we’ll make up.”

  “And I’ll get grouchy at roundup time and start to yell at you like I do all the cowboys.”

  He picked her up and gently nipped the side of her neck. “I know another couple of ways to make you yell,” he said huskily.

  He carried her to the pile of fresh hay at the back of the barn. “What are you doing?” she asked weakly.

  “I’m going to make love to you, boss lady, all night if I need to, so you don’t go tough on me again before I get you to agree to marry me.”

  They tumbled into the hay together and Molly rolled over, sitting up. “Truly, Parker?” she asked, the tears rolling again.

  “It’s all right if you take a lot of convincing,” he said, pulling at the buttons of her shirt. “I’ve got all night.”

  “And you wouldn’t rather have a wife who’s sweet and pretty like… like Mary Beth or Susannah?”

  He pretended to consider for a minute, until he saw the faintest hint of doubt creep into her eyes. Then he laughed and said, “Well, Mary Beth’s taken already, and I have a feeling Susannah’s about to be snatched up by the marshal, who’s just a little faster on the draw than I am. So I guess that makes you the lucky bride.”

  She saw that he was teasing her, and threw a clump of straw at his head. “Don’t do that to me, Parker. I was always the one who was never going to fall in love. It’ll take me a while to believe it. You’ll have to be patient with me.”

  He picked a piece of hay out of his hair and brushed some more off his shoulders. “And you’ll have to be patient with me and those cows of yours. But in the meantime, neither one of us has to be patient about this.”

  He pushed her back into the hay, opening her shirt as they went. As usual, she had no female contraptions underneath so he was able to fasten his mouth immediately on a warm, full breast. “Dressing like a male does have its advantages,” he murmured, moving to give equal attention to the other side.

  Molly shifted beneath him, letting the waves build as he laved her with his tongue, then tugged at her nipples with increasingly demanding lips. His hand slipped under the pliant buckskin of her trousers, seeking the soft heat of her core. She drew in a quick breath when he touched her there, making tiny circles of arousal.

  “Parker!” she said sharply.

  He pulled himself up to her lips. “What is it, sweetheart?”

  She pulled his head close and kissed him. “You did say I wouldn’t have to be patient,” she reminded him. The flush of passion was already creeping up her neck.

  Swiftly he lifted her and adjusted both her trousers and his own to give him access to her open body. In only a few thrusts he brought them both to their peak and then tumbling, soaring over it.

  They lay quiet for a few minutes, tangled with their clothes half on and half off. Finally he said, “I think I like impatient women.”

  She gave an embarrassed laugh. “Enough to marry one?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  He started kissing her again, amazed that his body wasn’t sated after what they’d just shared. She moved restlessly beneath him. “The hay prickles,” she explained apologetically.

  Parker smiled. “Ah, love in the Wild West. How could I ever even think about going back to New York City after this?” He reached out and dragged over a couple of horse blankets to put underneath her. “Is this all right, or should we go to my bunk?”

  “We can’t, Parker. Ned’s here with Mary Beth and-”

  Before she could start taking on the responsibilities of the world again, he silenced her mouth and her thoughts with another long kiss. “We’ll just keep roughing it, then,” he murmured.

  Before long they both were once again out of breath. “I’m feeling impatient again,” she said, only half teasing.

  Parker took both her wrists and held them above her head, then looked down at her lean body. “Sorry, boss lady. When I said you didn’t have to be patient…” He kissed just the tip of each swollen breast. “I only meant the first time.”

  Epilogue

  Molly looked at herself in the cheval mirror that Susannah had moved into her big sister’s bedroom for the occasion. The dress was perfect, just as she’d imagined. And, yes, her cheeks were rosy—the blushing br
ide. After all her talk of independence, Molly was to be the first Hanks sister to marry.

  Ned and Mary Beth, now that they knew they had Molly’s full support for their marriage, had decided that they could wait until after Jeremy’s impending trial for the actual event. But Parker had been less patient.

  “Hell, sweetheart, let’s just go find a judge and get it done,” he’d said the day following their reunion in the barn. But Molly, who’d sworn never to be one for those kind of things, had found herself with a peculiar desire to walk down the aisle as a beautiful bride in a true wedding with all the trimmings.

  Parker, adamant, had given her a week. It had passed quickly, the house humming happily with activity. Susannah and Mary Beth had sewn feverishly on a blue silk wedding dress and Smokey had worked for two days on a wedding supper, complete with a tiered pound cake. Now that the day had arrived, he and Max had spent the afternoon rearranging the furniture in the big parlor. Max had brought a centerpiece of tin wedding bells for the table and a heartshaped locket for the bride.

  Susannnah and Mary Beth were with Molly in her tiny bedroom, fussing around her, giving last minute stitches to her dress and enjoying the unheard-of activity of primping their older sister’s hair.

  “Our neighbors won’t believe it when they see you, Molly,” Mary Beth said as she tucked the last errant strand into place with a satisfied nod.

  “You’re lovelier than any of us, sis,” Susannah added. “Every man who ever turned his nose up at the boss of the Lucky Stars is going to be gnashing his teeth in frustration.”

  “The only one I want to impress is Parker,” Molly said with a nervous laugh that sounded nothing like her.

  As if she had conjured him, Parker’s demanding voice suddenly spoke from behind the half closed door. “Where’s my bride?”

  “Go away,” the three sisters shouted in unison.

  “Not likely,” he answered, pushing the door wide with a grin. “I’m afraid you three have got me here to stay.”

  “You should wait to see her downstairs,” Susannah said with a frown.