Lucky Bride. Ana Seymour
have a lovely place, Susannah,” he said.
“Papa was proud of his home. Some of the things here have come all the way from the Orient.”
“And now it all belongs to you and your sisters?”
Susannah looked reflective. “Even though I grew up here, I always felt as if it belonged more to Papa than to any of us. And now to Molly.”
“But you inherited it equally, you said.”
“I suppose. I guess we just all assume that Mary Beth and I will leave here some day, whereas Molly won’t. Molly will never leave the Lucky Stars,” she added more firmly.
They had reached the end of the carpeting and started back. Parker would be glad to hit the bed again. A great hired hand he was turning out to be—he could walk all of fifty feet and then he had to sit down. “Anyway, it’s a wonderful place.”
“One of the biggest ranch houses in “Wyoming Territory,” Susannah said with a touch of the pride she had attributed to her father.
“I don’t doubt it.” He gazed up at the huge carved beams of the vaulted two-story ceiling, then he slipped his arm out of Susannah’s to lean on the railing that overlooked the imposing living room. He hoped it appeared that he was examining the impressive architecture of the house, but actually he just wanted to rest a moment. The balustrade would take more of his weight than he was willing to throw on Susannah’s slender arm.
As he took in a deep breath, there was a pounding on the front door beneath them. Susannah joined him at the railing and they both peered down as her older sister crossed under them to answer the door.
“Why, Jeremy, what a surprise.” Molly did not sound too enthusiastic. “To what do we owe the honor of two visits in two days?”
Jeremy moved a step forward, expecting Molly to usher him into the house. When she didn’t move, he was forced to retreat slightly. “I’m always eager to see you, Molly, if that’s what you mean. But today I came to be sure that cowboy was out of your father’s room.”
Molly cocked her head. “Why am I having trouble understanding how that is any of your business, Jeremy?” Her voice had a restrained calmness that Parker had already come to recognize as more dangerous than her explosions of temper.
Evidently Jeremy could also read her mood. He took yet another step back—all the way onto the porch—took off his expensive hat and spoke with a cajoling tone. “Now, Molly, my dear. You know that I care about everything that goes on with you and your sisters here at the ranch. Why, Pa and Ned and I feel as if we owe it to poor Charlie, rest his soul, to watch outfory’all.”
When Jeremy Dickerson started in with his y’alls, Molly knew that he wanted something. The Dickersons had been Southerners long ago before the move to Wyoming, and Jeremy could pour on the honey when he had a mind to. Molly didn’t know why it riled her so, or why she should be upset that he had come to check up on her. It was, in fact, a neighborly thing to do. None of them knew Parker Prescott. He might be a thief or a scoundrel. He could have murdered them all in their beds by now. She gave a little laugh at the absurdity of the idea and stepped back to let Jeremy enter. “Well, as long as you’re here, come sit awhile.”
Jeremy smiled, evidently pleased that his charm had smoothed Molly’s prickly disposition one more time. But then he unwisely returned to his first topic. “Honestly, my dear, I don’t like that new man of yours. I can read people, you know, and he’s not the sort you want around here.”
“You mean I should hire one of the dozens of others I have clamoring on my doorstep?”
“I’ve offered to lend you workers,” he reminded her.
“I don’t want to borrow from you, Jeremy. I thought I’d made that clear. I’ll run this ranch on my own and I’ll have my own help. Hiring Mr. Prescott is just a start.”
“I don’t like him,” Jeremy repeated.
From above them, Parker and Susannah listened in amused silence. Parker leaned over and whispered in her ear, “Your neighbor doesn’t like me, Susannah. Should I be devastated?”
She smiled broadly, causing two tiny dimples to appear in her smooth cheeks. “Isn’t he an overbearing prig?” she whispered back.
“I guess that’s as good a word as any.”
Susannah leaned her head back and gave Parker a long look. “Let’s play a little,” she said slyly.
Parker looked puzzled at her suggestion, but she only smiled, pulled his arm off the railing and draped it around her neck. Then she moved close to him. He shifted self-consciously. Parker wasn’t sure if Susannah was aware of how her breasts pressed against the thin lawn of his nightshirt, but he certainly was.
“You see, Parker,” she said loudly. “You’re getting so much stronger. I barely have to hold you.”
Molly and Jeremy turned their heads in unison to look up to the second-floor balcony. From their position beneath the railing, Parker and Susannah’s posture must have looked even more intimate than it felt. “Susannah!” Molly gasped.
Susannah turned her head casually, then gave a wave down to the onlookers. “Oh, hello, Molly… Jeremy. I was just helping Parker take a little walk. Doesn’t he look so much stronger?”
Her voice dripped. Parker had finally caught on to Susannah’s definition of “play” and had trouble restraining a smile. “Good afternoon, Mr. Dickerson,” he called down, meeting the neighbor’s glaring dark eyes with a calm stare.
“Susannah,” Molly said angrily, “if Mr. Prescott is that much recovered, I’ll send Smokey up directly to see that he gets some clothes on and gets moved out to the bunkhouse.”
Susannah’s pretty lips turned down. “You can’t put him out there yet, Molly. He’s still recovering.”
“He can recover outside,” she snapped.
Parker, his bout of weakness gone, pulled Susannah away from the edge of the railing. “It’s all right,” he said to her in a low voice. He leaned over the edge one last time. “Nice to see you again, Mr. Dickerson,” he called. Then he guided Susannah toward the master bedroom. “I’m feeling quite good, actually.”
Susannah frowned. “Molly’s such a stick at times. I’m afraid I’ve made a muddle of things. She’s making you leave because of the show we put on out there.”
Parker grinned. “It doesn’t matter. It was worth it to see the expression on Dickerson’s face when he looked up and saw you in my arms.”
She giggled. “It was funny. I thought he was going to swallow his tongue. Well, I guess I should leave you alone to get dressed,” she concluded reluctantly, and left the room.
The fickle November weather had turned seductive once again. The light breeze felt almost warm as Parker made his way with Smokey out to the Lucky Stars bunkhouse. The snow was slippery and wet under their boots. In the sunlight the drifts were shrinking into hard, icy mounds. A small waterfall of snow melting from the roof cascaded down alongside the door of the Spartan wood bunkhouse. No Persian rugs here. He followed Smokey inside, ducking to avoid the cold drips.
“Home sweet home, lad. It’s not as comfortable as up at the house, but I guess you’ve probably seen worse in your day.”
Parker made no reply. Though his parents had spent most of the family money trying to convert the world to their various causes of abolitionism, temperance and so on, the money from his father’s bank had been enough that the Prescott family had lived in considerable luxury compared with most of the rest of the country. Except for his few months in the Black Hills, Parker had never awakened in the morning without stepping on a carpet, never had to go out the back of the house in the middle of a January freeze to relieve himself. He’d never gone to sleep in a room without real windows with