Gabriel's Lady. Ana Seymour
parents, and they’d been well schooled in equestrian arts. Neither Amelia nor Parker had ever cared much for the actual kill, but both had enjoyed riding and the freedom of being out in the countryside, away from the cluttered streets and foul air of the city.
Parker slowed as they approached the end of the open grass. Amelia was by his side almost instantly. “Not fair,” she said, out of breath. “I’ve a new mount and don’t know the way yet.”
“You always did manage to find some excuse for losing,” he taunted.
Amelia pulled herself up in the saddle and adjusted the flat silk hat that had tilted crazily along with the chignon it was perched upon. “Mercy, that felt good,” she said with a grin.
Parker beamed at her as they took a minute to enjoy being together again. Morgan and his horse were still halfway across the meadow, heading toward them at a sedate walk. From this vantage point Amelia could look up the end of the valley and see a series of odd-looking wooden contraptions built next to and partly in the river. A rough bridge crossed the water and led to a small house built from unfinished pine logs.
They walked their horses up the hill toward the structures. “Home sweet home,” Parker said.
Amelia’s gaze had fixed on a tall blond man emerging from the door of the cabin.
“Oh, good,” Parker said. “You can meet my new partner.”
The smile faded from Amelia’s face as she let her horse take its lead from Parker’s. They picked their way through scattered mining equipment and what looked like mazes built of wood. When they reached their end of the little bridge Parker stopped and waved to the man across the river. “Gabe,” he yelled. “Come meet my sister.”
Gabriel Hatch sauntered across the log bridge. He’d bathed and shaved and changed his clothes. His dark suit was impeccable. His shirt was snowy white punctuated with a dark purple waistcoat and matching silk tie. He could have passed for one of the dandies from London who visited their father now and then on transatlantic business.
“We’ve met,” he said, approaching their horses. He turned to Amelia. She could see the sunlight actually glinting off his long blond eyelashes as he winked at her and drawled, “I had the honor of spending the night with your sister, Parker.”
Parker’s eyes widened. He snapped his head around toward Amelia.
She unconsciously tightened her fingers around the pommel of her saddle as her knees suddenly refused to hold her on the horse.
Gabe took a step forward and offered his hand. “May I assist you?” The formal politeness of his tone was contradicted by a smug smile.
Amelia ignored his proffered hand and slid off her mount as gracefully as her weakened legs would allow.
“It’s nice to see you again, Miss Prescott,” he persisted.
“The feeling is not mutual, Mr. Hatch,” she said stiffly. Then she grasped her horse’s reins and pushed her way past Gabe on to the wooden bridge, leaving Parker staring after her in amazement.
Amelia couldn’t remember when she had been so tired. She had hardly slept the previous night after she had chosen to spend it in the broken-down stagecoach. Every time she had dozed off she would start to slide down the seat cushion until she ended up crumpled against one wall. She had finally turned around and ended up sleeping with her head downward and her feet stretched above her, a position that had left her ankles quite numb.
Tonight might not prove to be much better, she thought, looking over at the one wooden cot in Parker’s tiny cabin. There were two blankets folded on it haphazardly, but no sign of either a mattress or sheets. Tears of exhaustion burned in her eyes.
The final frustration was that “partner” Gabe Hatch had stayed the entire evening, preventing her from having the serious conversation with Parker that she had rehearsed through all those long miles of weary travel between New York and Deadwood. Couldn’t the man tell when he wasn’t wanted? Evidently not.
Of course, Parker and Morgan had provided an appreciative audience for his stories about his gambling adventures on the great steamers that plied the waters up from New Orleans. And his tour of the Colorado camps, where he had spent several weeks as an escort to the famous actress, Lotta Crabtree.
The whole display had given Amelia the headache that had threatened since she had awakened in the stagecoach that morning. Most of the questions she had for Parker had remained unanswered. She still did not know how he had ended up with Gabriel Hatch as a partner. And she had not been able to pin him down about returning home with her.
She stood up from the cane rocker that was the only civilized piece of furniture in the room. “It’s getting late, gentlemen,” she said.
Morgan, Parker and Gabe turned their heads toward her in unison. Parker jumped up and went to put his arm around her shoulders. “I’m sorry, Amelia. I should have realized you’d be tired after your long trip. Gabe and Morgan and I can go on down into town, unless…” He looked suddenly uncertain. “You’re not afraid to be out here by yourself, are you, sis?”
Morgan uncrossed his long legs and stood with a stretch. “I’m not leaving Missy up here by herself. No way. You and Mr. Hatch go on ahead if you like.”
Gabe was the last to his feet. “Gabe,” he said to Morgan. “It’s just plain Gabe.”
Morgan nodded and repeated to Parker. “You and Gabe can go to town if you like.”
Parker’s tanned forehead furrowed with lines Amelia had never seen. “I…I guess I shouldn’t be leaving you by yourself,” he said slowly.
Amelia had the impression that her brother was seeing the independence he had found so intoxicating being abruptly curtailed, an assessment she felt was unfair. She hadn’t come to Deadwood to become his warden. But in spite of herself, she asked, “Where do you go in town?”
Parker flushed. “The Lucky Horseshoe usually…if I’m thirsty.”
“And the Lucky Horseshoe is…”
Parker dropped his arm from her shoulders and stepped back. “Well, it’s…a saloon. Ah, shucks, sis. There aren’t any other places in Deadwood to go.”
“Except for Mrs. Smith’s?”
The flush deepened. “You looked just like Mother when you said that. And you don’t really know what you’re talking about. The girls at Mattie’s are…Well, let me put it this way. I’ve learned a thing or two about the wicked ways of the world that Mother preached about. And not everything is the way she painted it.”
Amelia felt the pressure of her headache behind her eyes. She did not want to argue with Parker tonight, but she felt compelled to ask, “So after a few months in the West you now think it’s perfectly all right to drink spirits and consort with loose women?”
Gabe was watching the exchange without amusement. He could see the hurt in Amelia’s eyes. But he could also understand Parker’s chafing under her scrutiny. A young man who had just discovered the wide world did not want to be cross-examined like an errant schoolboy.
“Your sister’s right, Parker. It’s too late for more socializing. I’ve overstayed my welcome. How about if I invite you all to supper tomorrow?” He gave a little bow in Amelia’s direction. “At the Willard Hotel, not the Lucky Horseshoe.”
But Parker’s attention stayed focused on his sister. “If you’ve come out here to light into me like one of Mother’s holier-than-thou reformer friends, you might as well just get right back on the stagecoach east.”
Drums sounded in the back of Amelia’s ears. “Parker Prescott! How can you say such a thing after I’ve