Lucky Bride. Ana Seymour
at the end of the street. Why don’t you go send your sister a wire and leave mine alone?”
Parker turned back toward Susannah and Mary Beth, but they were both staring down at the ground. “I didn’t mean any harm, ladies,” he said.
Susannah looked up quickly, and he thought he detected a hint of apology in her eyes before she shifted them downward again.
“I just might take your advice, Miss Hanks,” he said softly, turning back to the oldest sister. With a last glance at her rifle, he clapped his hat on his head and headed across the street toward Diamond.
His delight at the unexpected encounter with the two lovely sisters had faded, and a wave of homesickness hit him. Perhaps he would send Amelia a telegram, let her know where he was. She and her new husband, Gabe Hatch, would be back in New York City now, with Gabe taking over the family banking position that Parker had so detested. He grinned as he thought about his former mining partner turning on the charm for all the reformer friends of Parker and Amelia’s mother. He wondered if the true story would be revealed—that his bluestocking sister had gone to Deadwood to save Parker from the evils of the Wild West…and had instead fallen head over petticoats for a wickedly handsome professional gambler.
He found the telegraph office and sent his message, then went back out into the street with a lump the size of a potato in his throat. All of a sudden, winter was looking mighty long.
As he stepped off the sidewalk, the three Hanks sisters exited from a doorway across the street. All three turned their heads his way. He gave a little bow and tipped his hat, but as the two younger sisters started to smile at him again, the oldest grabbed each by an arm and tugged them in the opposite direction.
“He was being a regular gentleman, Molly,” he heard the tall, pretty one say in a loud, angry whisper.
Molly didn’t bother to lower her voice. “There’s no such thing as a gentleman, Susannah. Leastwise, not in Wyoming Territory.” She uncocked her rifle and passed it to her left hand. “I’m finished here. Let’s get home.”
She turned and marched up the street toward a wagon parked out in front of the feed store. Susannah looked across to where Parker stood with Diamond, watching them. She gave him a furtive wave, to which he tipped his hat and winked. Mary Beth nervously grabbed her sister’s arm. “C’mon, Susannah. Molly says we have to go.”
Parker watched them leave with a sigh of regret. He’d best put the beautiful Hanks sisters out of his mind. If their older sister was such a tigress, he’d hate to imagine what their father or brothers would do to guard their virtue.
Parker eased his shoulders into the steaming, soapy water. It felt even better than he had anticipated. He hadn’t had bathwater this hot since he’d headed west. Perhaps Canyon City would do for the winter after all. The Grand Hotel, despite its unimpressive exterior, had yielded a prime sirloin the size of a serving platter. The liveryman who was tending to Diamond appeared to be a proper expert in horseflesh. And then, of course, there were those intriguing Hanks sisters.
He’d promised himself to put them out of his head, but the rest of his body kept bringing up the subject. If he could just get the two younger ones alone, preferably the taller one, Susannah… He closed his eyes and pictured them, standing there in the dusty street. Her eyes had been the color of his mother’s prize china. Cornflower blue, it was called.
“I ain’t about to fish you outta there if you fall asleep, sonny.”
Parker jumped at the strident voice. He sat up with a slosh. A large woman had come in at the far end of the room carrying a load of towels. She was as tall as Parker and twice as wide. Parker looked down at the water in consternation. The last of the bubbles had gone over the side of the tub when he sat up, leaving him fully exposed to view.
“Don’t worry,” the woman said, following the direction of his gaze. “You ain’t got nothing in there I ain’t seen before.” She lowered the towels and craned her neck to peer at the water. “Though it don’t look too bad for a pilgrim like you.”
Parker felt his skin grow hotter than the temperature of the water. “I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure, ma’am,” he said, masking his discomfiture.
“Maxine McClanahan,” she said, her voice booming. “Most folks just call me Max. I thought you’d need a towel.”
“Much obliged.” His embarrassment faded at the woman’s brisk manner. He met her steady gaze. Her hair was shot through with gray, but she was definitely not the grandmotherly type. She had a nononsense air about her. Max. It suited her.
He sat back and allowed her to finish her unabashed perusal of him. “Do you work here?” he asked.
She shook her head. “Own the place.”
Parker lifted his eyebrows in surprise, eliciting a chuckle from Max.
“So what, pilgrim? You don’t think a woman can own a respectable business? I thought you’d be a mite smarter than the usual drifters we get through here. The only time they feel comfortable givin’ money to a woman is when she’s lying on her back.” She gave a little huff and deposited the towels on the room’s only chair.
Parker grinned. “I’ll be happy to give you my money, ma’am. What was it you called me? A pilgrim?”
“Yup. A pilgrim. A tenderfoot,” she clarified.
“How’d you know I was a tenderfoot?”
She glanced at the jumbled heap of Parker’s things. “The clothes, for one. Ain’t a gent in Canyon City who’d wear a silk vest like that one. ‘Cept maybe Harvey Overstreet. And that’s ‘cause he’s been expectin’ to die for the past ten years and wants to look pretty in his coffin.”
“Back in Deadwood there were lots of men with vests like mine,” Parker protested.
“Deadwood’s a boomtown—gamblers and scalawags and fancy dreamers.” Her grimace left no doubt as to Max’s opinion of the quality of Deadwood menfolk. “Out here’s the real West. Honest-togoodness cowpokes who wouldn’t know a silk shirt from a burlap bag.”
“And who don’t like women in business,” Parker added.
Max put her hands on her ample hips. “That’s for darn sure. They’ve near run poor Molly Hanks out of the territory.”
“Molly Hanks?” Parker pushed himself farther out of the water and felt the sudden chill on his skin.
Max nodded. “After her pappy died, none of these pea-brained cowhands would work for her. They say a woman’s got no business running a ranch.”
“That particular woman looks like she could run just about anything,” Parker said under his breath.
“Molly’s a tough one,” Max agreed with another rumbling chuckle. “But if she don’t get some of them to change their minds by spring roundup, I’m afraid she ain’t got a sinner’s chance in heaven of making a go of it.”
Parker shivered. He looked over at the stack of towels, just out of reach. “Ah… would you like to hand me one of those?” he asked.
Max leaned her back against the wall and let a broad smile cross her face. “Come on, pilgrim. At my age there just ain’t that many pleasures left in this life, so I take ‘em where I can get ‘em. And from what I’ve seen so far, a nice long look at you would be pure pleasure.”
Trying not to feel self-conscious, Parker stood, letting the dirty water sluice down his lean body. His eyes met Max’s. She watched him with a brief flicker of a nearly forgotten hunger, then it was replaced by her sardonic humor. “Pure pleasure is right,” she said with a wink as he grabbed a towel and began to dry himself. She looked him up and down without selfconsciousness. “You can bathe here any time you want, pilgrim. Half price.”
Parker laughed. Canyon City was definitely proving to be much