by Ana Seymour
“So he’d like to think. But it’s the ranch he wants, not me.”
Parker frowned. “Now, why would you say that?”
Molly turned so that she was facing him and leaned her back against a wooden column. “I think the answer to that’s obvious, Mr. Prescott, or are you going to try some more of your New York blarney on me?”
The pensive, vulnerable young woman he’d briefly glimpsed was gone and boss lady Molly was back. She pushed herself up against the wood column, setting her shoulders straighter. She still didn’t fill out the big coat, but she didn’t look like a lost little girl anymore, either. Parker felt a surge of irritation. Hell, if the woman didn’t want to believe that she was attractive, what difference did it make to him?
He decided to change the subject altogether. “So what are you going to do about the unmarked cows?”
Molly burst out laughing. “Calves, Parker. Or cattle, dogies, beeves, or heifers if they’re a year old. A cow is something you get milk from.”
He grinned at her. “Then why am I going to learn to be a cow-boy?”
She pursed her lips in thought. “Well, that’s a good question.”
Just now, when her face was animated—quicksilver changes from a smile to puzzlement and back to a smile—he’d defy anyone to consider Miss Molly Hanks plain. But he’d already made the mistake of opening his mouth on that subject tonight. He tucked away a resolution to find the chance to bring up the matter again on another occasion. “I guess it’s not important what I call myself as long as I do the job, right?” he asked her.
“You can call yourself a bloody opera star for all I’ care, Mr. Prescott, as long as you do the job,” she said with a firm nod.
“I have heard that cowboys sing to their cows… cattle.”
Molly looked amused. “You can give it a try, if you want. I’ve found that hard riding and good roping are a bit more to the point.”
“The riding I think I can handle. You’ll have to teach me the roping.”
“Have you ever roped before?”
“I can tie knots.”
He’d meant the answer to be amusing, but it seemed to depress her. She pulled her coat more tightly around her. “You’re right. The chill’s starting again. I think I’ll go inside.”
Parker stood and held out a hand to help her up. She hesitated a moment, then took it and let him pull her to her feet. “And I,” he said, his eyes twinkling, “will head out yonder to that nice warm bunkhouse.”
He was still holding on to her hand. “You are feeling all right?” she asked uncertainly. “Do you want me to check on your ears?”
He shook his head and finally relinquished her hand. “No, thank you. I’m just fine. I’m going to tuck into my cozy bunk and let myself dream about the look on Jeremy Dickerson’s face when you were lighting into him today.”
“You don’t like him very much, do you?”
“No, ma’am.”
“Well, he’s our neighbor, and I suppose after all he’s just trying to help. I hope you’ll remember that.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She waited for him to say something more. When he continued to be silent, she gave a brisk nod. “We’ll see you here at the house for breakfast, Parker.”
“I’ll be looking forward to it,” he said, then turned away from her and clattered down the steps.
Molly awoke with a start. Horrified, she jumped from the bed. Her bare feet hit the icy cold floor, and the frigid air of the room filled her lungs. Her sisters each had small fireplaces in their bedrooms and in the winter went to sleep each night with fires, carefully banked for the night. But Molly’s father had scorned such luxury, and Molly had followed his example. Today she probably wouldn’t have noticed if she had awakened on top of an ice floe. It was well after dawn—the late dawn of November. She couldn’t remember ever sleeping so late in her life. But lately she’d been immensely tired. She’d missed out on her sleep those nights of nursing Parker. And since then she’d slept restlessly. She’d had strange dreams about giant ears in wavy brown hair and velvety eyes watching her, then flaring suddenly with a heat she’d never actually seen, only imagined.
Last night after her discussion with Parker on the steps, she’d been particularly restless. She’d drifted from thoughts of him and his blarney to memories of the Dickersons’ visit. She’d fretted, as she had so often these past months, about the ranch and what was to become of it. Her neighbors had been right, of course. She couldn’t expect to keep a ranch going if her cattle were running around unmarked over half the territory.
She climbed into her pants and shirt and swiped at her hair with her mother’s silver comb. Most of her mother’s things had been given over the years to Susannah and Mary Beth. The filigree comb-and-brush set was the one thing she’d insisted on keeping for herself. Her mother’s hair had been brown, the exact color of Molly’s, her father used to tell her.
She sped down the stairway and into the empty dining room. A plate of johnny cakes and bacon had been left at her place. She walked around the table and picked up a cake. It was cold and hard. Criminy, what time was it, anyway?
Throwing the cake back down on the plate, she ran across the room to the hall and out the front door. Smokey and Parker were out at the barn, working at the baling they had started yesterday. Susannah was watching them, perched on a fence rail. Parker smiled up at her as she laughed at something he had just said. Her eyes were on his shoulders, just as Molly’s had been the previous day.
Molly slowed to a stop. There was no point in tearing over there like a little girl let out for play. She was the boss of this outfit now. No matter if her authority at the moment extended only over an old man and a greenhorn Easterner.
“Good morning,” she called, making her voice as booming as possible. She walked toward the barn with long, mannish strides.
Smokey turned his head toward her. “Land’s sake, lass. I thought you’d up and died.”
Molly met his eyes sternly. “I had some thinking to do. Good morning, Parker, Susannah,” she finished with a curt nod to each.
Smokey’s grin died. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine. But I’m going to need some help today.”
Susannah started to climb over the top of the railing. She didn’t look as if she’d lost any sleep recently, Molly noted. Her cheeks were blooming and she looked as fresh as a basket of spring flowers.
“What did you have in mind, Molly?” Parker asked over his shoulder as he stepped over to give Susannah an entirely unnecessary boost down to the ground.
“I kept thinking about that calf yesterday—about how in blazes it ended up all the way over to Dickersons’. Calves usually stay pretty close to their mamas the first year,” she explained to him.
“Maybe it was the storm,” he suggested.
She nodded but looked unconvinced. “Anyway, I want to head over to Cougar Creek and check things out.”
“Parker and I were there yesterday.” Susannah spoke for the first time.
“All the way down to the hollow? Did you see much of the herd?”
“We didn’t ride all the way to the hollow, but, come to think of it, we didn’t see any animals, not a one. That’s odd.”
“It certainly is,” Molly said grimly.
Smokey’s weathered face was crumpled with concern. He explained to Parker. “When we knew we couldn’t do a roundup, we tried to box up the calves and their mamas in a little valley where they could winter. Hoped it would keep them from wandering too far.”
“But they didn’t stay there?” Parker asked. Copying Smokey, he stashed his rake behind the hay wagon.
“Maybe something spooked them,” Susannah suggested with a shrug.
Molly looked around the group, her face tense. She looked at the overcast western sky. “Maybe. Anyway, I want to get out there and see for myself before the cold weather hits us again. We’ll all go.” She looked around the yard. “Where’s Mary Beth?”
Smokey and Parker looked blank. The youngest sister was normally so quiet, it always seemed to come as a surprise to find that she wasn’t around, hanging back somewhere in the corner. “She and I cleaned up the breakfast,” Susannah said, “then I came out here and she headed out back. I thought she was just going out to the… to take care of business. Maybe she went back up to her room.”
“I didn’t see any sign of her when I got up,” Molly said, her voice a mixture of annoyance and concern.
“Does she ride off on her own?” Parker asked.
“Not usually.”
“Not Mary Beth,” Susannah confirmed.
Molly gave a deep sigh. “Well, we’ll have to look-”
Before she could finish her statement the front door to the big house opened and Mary Beth poked her head out, looking around.
Molly called to her. “Where have you been?”
Mary Beth shook her head and cupped her hand to her ear.
“Never mind.” Molly made a motion with her hand and shouted more loudly, “Come on. We’re riding out—to the cattle.”
The younger sister nodded and yelled back. “Let me change clothes. I’ll be out in a minute.”
Molly and Susannah exchanged a look. There’d been something odd about Mary Beth lately, but Molly didn’t have time to think about it now. She had to get out on the range. A wind was whipping up from the northwest again, and, unless she missed her guess, they were about to step back into winter.
Parker stood up in his stirrups and watched in frustration as another big steer headed off in the opposite direction from the herd. Back in New York he’d ridden on fox hunts and steeplechases. He’d led his mount up and down slippery cliffs in the Black Hills. He’d raced the wind across the Wyoming prairie. But he’d be darned if he could get the hang of weaving in and out among these lumbering beasts. They seemed to move without any sense or order, no matter what he did. It didn’t help any that Susannah and little Mary Beth seemed to be able to move them along easily like seasoned cowhands. He hoped he could blame part of his ineptitude on the clumsy horse he’d been given in Canyon City. As soon as his boss lady would agree to give him a free moment, he intended to ride into town and get Diamond back.
They’d found a good portion of the Lucky Stars herd scattered across three hills on the far side of Cougar Creek, the portion of the ranch that adjoined the Dickersons’ Lazy D. They hadn’t been able to identify the mama of the little moon-faced calf the sheriff had brought back, and when the animal had begun a woeful bellowing, Molly had decided that they would take it back to the ranch with them and feed it in the barn until spring.
But in the meantime, she wanted to move as many of the animals as she could toward the box hollow on the other side of the stream. It had been a dry fall and there was little water flowing, but what was there was icy, and the cattle were not eager to plunge in. They’d worked all afternoon zigzagging back and forth, rounding up strays, tugging the occasional rebel into line with a quick lasso. Parker had lassoed nothing but air all day, and he’d given up trying.
He was frustrated and tired, still feeling the effects of his illness, and several times had almost reached the point where he was ready to tell Molly exactly what she could do with her cows and ride off the place. But then he’d watch her for a while, straight and sure in the saddle, her face set in the determined lines he was beginning to know. She rode harder than any two of the rest of them. And when the others stopped for a breather, she rode even harder. And he would give it all another try.
Molly rode up alongside him and deftly turned the animal he’d lost back in the right direction. “Just ride right at them and ease them along, Parker,” she hollered. “They won’t turn around and bite you.”
She was starting to get on his nerves.
“I’m not afraid they’ll bite me,” he yelled back at her. “I’m doing the best I can with the brutes, but they just don’t seem to get the idea that I’m the boss here.”
From the other side of the stream Smokey laughed and hollered, “Treat them like women, Parker. Easy, but with a firm hand. They’ll listen to you.”
Without a smile, Molly lowered her voice and said, “If you don’t think you can handle the job, I won’t hold you to your promise to stay.”
Parker tightened his hands on his reins and gulped down a flash of anger. “It’s my first day, boss lady. I told you I’d have to learn.”
Susannah came riding up to them, stopping her horse expertly just next to Parker’s. “Stop badgering him, Molly. He’s doing fine for just starting out. And besides, we’ve all worked too long. Let’s head back.”
Parker wasn’t sure he liked having Susannah come to his defense. He could fight his own battles with her sister. But it did smooth his feathers a bit when she leaned over, put a gloved hand on his knee and said in her melodious voice, “You ride beautifully, Parker. We’ll make a cowboy out of you yet.”
“We’ll get this last batch across, then call it a day,” Molly said. Her eyes were on Susannah’s hand where it still rested on Parker’s leg.
“Whoopee!” Susannah hollered, then spurred her horse forward into the icy water. Parker watched as she skillfully sidled her mount near the moving cattle and hurried them across. He looked down the valley to where Mary Beth was using her mount to pen in the animals they had already moved. Though Molly was obviously the workhorse of the family, he was discovering that there was more than froth to the two confections he had first seen on the street back in Canyon City. All three sisters were fighters. He plunged once again into the creek, making the sudden resolve that he would stay and help them with that fight, no matter how many taunts Molly decided to throw his way.
“I can’t sneak out to see you so often, Ned. I think Molly’s starting to notice.” There were two great teardrops in Mary Beth’s blue eyes. Ned Dickerson reached out a finger to collect them as they spilled over her lower lids.
“I don’t like having you do it, either, Bethy. Let me talk to your sister and tell her the truth.”
They were seated on a blanket in the little copse of trees that had served as their hideaway morning and evening for the past two months. Mary Beth would slip away in the morning confusion just after breakfast and again just before dinner. Before the weather had grown too cold, Ned had urged her to meet him at night after everyone was asleep, but she had refused. The few stolen moments were all her conscience would allow. So far.
She shifted in his arms and shook her head sadly. “You know we can’t do that. Molly made a promise to my father that she wouldn’t let any man come near me until I was over eighteen.”
“You’re seventeen now,” he argued.
“Susannah’s nearly twenty-one, and Molly still watches over her like a hawk.”
“My ma was married and already had Jeremy by the time she was seventeen.”
“My mama, too,” Mary Beth agreed glumly.
“I can’t stand not to see you.”
Mary Beth began to cry in earnest as his mouth closed over hers. Her tears mingled with the heated moisture of their lips and tongues as they sought comfort in the only physical release they had so far allowed themselves.
“I want to marry you, Mary Beth,” Ned said fiercely after a few moments. He didn’t possess his brother’s authoritative air, but he had a soft-spoken self-confidence that had won Mary Beth’s heart from the first time she had been alone with him, the afternoon of her father’s funeral. She’d climbed up into the loft in the barn, seeking some peace from the houseful of guests and sympathy. Ned had followed her there, and had kissed her that very first day. A shy, comforting kiss that had done more than any of the mourners’ kind words to ease the ache in her heart.
Her tears dried in her throat, replaced by the shallow breathing of arousal. “And I want to marry you, but I know what her answer would be. We have to wait at least until my birthday next spring.”
Ned looked around at the trees swaying around them. The sun had disappeared over the horizon a
nd it was growing cold. “We won’t even be able to meet out here soon. With the blizzard last week, I thought I wouldn’t even see you again until spring.”
“We’ll find some way.”
“But you won’t let me talk to her.”
She put her small hands on each side of his face and gave him a hard kiss. “Not yet. She was so upset with your brother yesterday.”
“I think we could all tell that,” he said dryly. “But, darling, Jeremy was right, you know. You can’t have unmarked cattle wandering around. And you can’t run a ranch without hands. She should just let us help her.”
Mary Beth had stiffened when he had started to criticize her sister, but when he finished she leaned back against him. “I know. It’s just that your brother’s so…overbearing sometimes. I think she’s afraid if she lets him start doing things for her, he’ll just move in and take over the place.”
Ned was silent for a moment. “Jeremy thinks the Lucky Stars will be his one day, anyway.” At Mary Beth’s look, he added quickly. “I mean… he intends to marry Molly.”
“It would be perfect, in a way. Molly certainly couldn’t keep us apart if she were married to your brother. But I’m not at all sure Molly wants to be Jeremy’s wife.”
“It’s what our fathers have always talked about.”
Mary Beth looked wistful. “Too bad it wasn’t us they talked about.”
“It doesn’t matter. We’ll be together, no matter what.”
“I believe you, my love.” Reluctantly she got to her feet, their few stolen moments over. “But as for Molly and your brother, I wouldn’t lay down any bets just yet.”
Chapter Seven
Mary Beth had come dashing in to supper at the last minute once again, avoiding questions in the rush to get everyone served with the steaming plates of chicken and dumplings that Smokey had left cooking in his battered Dutch oven all day long. The Lucky Stars kitchen had the latest in modern equipment, but sometimes Smokey preferred using his old cookwagon methods.