by Ana Seymour
“I don’t think I should sit there beside you, Susannah,” he said lightly.
“Why not?” Her perfect little nose wrinkled.
“Well, for one thing, if your sister came in and saw us on a bed together, she’d probably carve me up and serve me for your Christmas dinner tonight.” He sat on a bunk directly across from her.
Susannah gave a little puff of annoyance. “Now, see. Why does that have to be?”
Her lip trembled a little, and Parker suddenly realized that, impossible as it seemed, Susannah might truly not know the answer to that question. His voice softened. “Maybe it’s because she knows that there’s not a man in the territory who could sit close beside you without wanting to kiss that lovely mouth of yours… and more.”
“Including you?”
Parker gave a little laugh. “Including me.”
“And what if I said…that I didn’t think that would be so terrible?”
“I might be inclined to advise you to listen to your sister.”
“I’m nearly twenty-one years old, Parker, and I’ve never even been kissed.” Her eyes were serious, expectant, and where she had let the shawl slip down around her, her high breasts rose and fell with rapid, shallow breaths.
Parker rubbed a hand across his mouth. It would be one hell of a way to celebrate Christmas, that was for sure. Forget scruples, forget memories, forget the dreary, winter-dead prairie outside and lose himself in the arms of a beautiful woman who was overripe for learning about lovemaking. His body was telling him that it would be happy to cooperate.
“Susannah,” he said slowly. “There’s nothing I’d rather do than walk over there and kiss you, but I can’t do it. I made a promise to your sister when I signed on here, and while I’m still taking wages from her, I intend to honor it.”
Even as he said the words, he knew that it was not the whole reason for his reticence. He couldn’t entirely explain it even to himself. It was tied up with the protective way Molly had made him feel the other night when she’d been sick along the side of the road.
“Well, then, I guess I’ve thrown myself at you enough for one day.” Susannah’s sweet voice had turned brittle. “I’d best get back up to the house. You’re to come up to eat in a half hour or so, and you’re welcome to stay afterward to help with the tree.”
She stood, bright eyes shuttered. “It’s not you, Susannah…” he began, but she put up a hand as if to ward off further explanation.
“I’ll see you at lunch,” she said, and quickly made her way out the door.
Parker had lain back on his bunk, not eager to arrive for lunch early. The other night he’d managed to anger the oldest Hanks sister. Now he’d upset Susannah. If it weren’t the dead of winter he’d be tempted to get up on his horse and ride out of here, away from both of them.
He lay with his arm shading his eyes from the light of the oil lamp. It was time to bank the stove and head over to the big house, but his body didn’t seem to want to move.
The knock was so faint that he almost thought he’d imagined it. He sat up as the door creaked open and Mary Beth’s tiny face appeared in the crack.
“Hello,” he greeted her uncertainly. Was he supposed to have a fight with the third sister, too?
She opened the door another inch or two. “Hello.”
“Come on in,” he said, swinging his feet to the floor.
“Were you sleeping?”
“No.” He combed his fingers back through his mussed hair. “No, of course not. I was just enjoying the day off. Come in,” he repeated. She swung the door halfway open and looked cautiously inside. “I know,” Parker said with a little smile. “When your father was alive, you weren’t supposed to come in here.”
Mary Beth nodded and smiled gently in return. “It was a dangerous place, full of potentially wreked cowboys.”
“Well, there’s only me now. I don’t know about the wicked, but I sure as heck don’t feel much like a cowboy yet.”
She pushed the door wide and stepped in. “You’re learning, Parker. You’re doing very well.”
“Your sister doesn’t seem too impressed with my work the past few days.”
“That’s just Molly. She gets her moods, but you shouldn’t take it to heart.”
“Would you like to sit down?” He swatted the dust from the end of an unused bunk.
“No. I just came to tell you that you are welcome to trim the tree with us this afternoon.”
“Thank you. Susannah already invited me, as a matter of fact.”
Mary Beth turned her head around as if looking for her. “Oh, good. She’s shut up in her bedroom and I didn’t think she’d been out here.”
“Shut up in her bedroom?”
Mary Beth’s eyes twinkled. “Well, you know. It’s Christmas. People have little secrets on a day like today.”
Parker was not at all sure that Susannah had shut herself up to wrap Christmas presents, but he said, “I guess so.”
Mary Beth’s smile died at the uncertainty in his voice. “I’m sorry, Parker. I know you must be missing your family today. Did you have wonderful Christmas celebrations back in New York?”
Mary Beth was such an intuitive, sensitive little creature. Parker tried to make his smile reassuring. “We had wonderful Christmases, and you’re right— I’m feeling a bit homesick.”
“Oh, but you mustn’t. You must let all of us be your family for today.”
A little of his melancholy lifted. Her tenderhearted sympathy was exactly the remedy he needed to lighten his mood. Unlike Susannah’s offering of a kiss, he could accept Mary Beth’s suggestion without misgivings. “I’d be honored,” he said with a little bow.
She took his arm in both her hands and started pulling him toward the door. “Come on over to the house right now. Just for today, we’ll pretend that you’re our brother. I think that everyone should be with people they love at Christmastime.”
There was a bit of an odd note when Mary Beth said the word love, but Parker was too startled at being categorized as a brother to take much note of it.
“So, you’re one of the family, all right?” Mary Beth repeated with gentle insistence.
He looked down at Mary Beth’s tiny hand on his arm and felt a surge of affection. Of the three sisters, it would be easiest to develop brotherly feelings for her. Susannah was just too damn beautiful and Molly was… He didn’t know how the hell he should feel about Molly. All he knew was that when he had kissed her the other night, he hadn’t felt the least bit brotherly.
After his gloomy mood that morning, Parker had a surprisingly delightful afternoon with Smokey and the girls. The tree-trimming had turned into a regular competition with spirited arguments over whose string of cranberries and popcorn was the most perfect. Then Smokey had chided Parker for eating up too many of the decorations and had finally slapped his hand away from the popcorn bowl with a dish towel. The bowl had overturned in the process, and a popcorn-flicking fight had ensued between the two men, who taunted each other like rival schoolboys and looked thoroughly silly.
Susannah had been quiet when she had arrived at the lunch table a little late, but her humor was restored as the afternoon wore on, though she avoided Parker’s eyes. Even Molly seemed to be having a good time, for once letting herself laugh along with her sisters and forget that she was the one in control.
Smokey had been in and out of the parlor all afternoon as he tended his meal. He’d had the ingredients for his famous plum pudding “plumping” for days and had gotten up before dawn to begin working on the other savory dishes he had planned.
When the eight-foot tree was filled to the top with adornments and all the other preparations were finished, Parker headed back out to the bunkhouse, whistling and realizing that he was looking forward to Christmas Eve after all.
He dressed up for the occasion in the rough silk shirt he’d brought from New York. It was the first time he’d worn it since he’d come West. It was wrinkled from being packed with his th
ings, but he figured it would smooth out respectably enough against the heat of his skin.
Susannah and Mary Beth had also taken out their best finery. Susannah’s gown was a delicate pink, with a smocked bodice that emphasized her shapely figure. Mary Beth was dressed in a bright green shirtwaist that made her eyes take on a turquoise cast. Even Smokey had cleaned up. His denims had been replaced by a pair of slick serge trousers that squeezed him a bit at the middle. His normally scraggly beard was trimmed and neatly curled out to each side with some kind of pomade.
“Whooee, old timer,” Parker exclaimed as Smokey joined them in the parlor. “You smell downright pretty. Another minute and I’m going to be asking you to dance with me.”
“You do and you’ll find your head spun round the wrong direction on your shoulders, you young pup.”
Mary Beth and Susannah laughed. “You look very nice, Smokey,” Mary Beth added in soothing tones. “We all do, I think.”
“Well, the supper’s ready. Where’s Molly?” Smokey said.
“Still up in her room, I guess,” Susannah answered, getting to her feet. “She took the washtub up there for a bath.”
Just as Smokey and Mary Beth were digesting this unusual piece of information, Molly shouted from the top of the stairs, “I’ll be right there.”
All heads turned toward the big staircase as the missing sister appeared around the curve. Smokey’s jaw dropped halfway to his knees and Mary Beth breathed, “Oh, Molly. You look so beautiful.”
Parker felt as if he’d been hit in the stomach. It was Molly, all right, but not the dirty, tough, scrappy female who’d threatened to blow his tongue off with her buffalo rifle. Not the skillful horsewoman who’d bullied and nagged him as he tried to learn how to move cattle. Not even the tearful, stubborn vigilante he’d held after she’d gotten sick by the side of the road. This Molly was a stunning woman—no, a lady—with her hair swept up into a graceful twist that set off her slender neck, her figure poured into a crystal-colored dress that shimmered as she carefully descended the stairs. Parker could swear that she was even wearing a corset under the shiny taffeta. The sleeves were puffy and short, revealing long, white arms, which Parker found oddly sensual. Molly always wore long-sleeved clothes. Even on the few warm days they’d had, when Susannah and Mary Beth had dressed in lightweight summer wear, Molly had never bared her arms, nor any other part of her. Now, in the scooping neckline, she was bare all the way to… quite bare. Parker swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry.
It was almost a relief when she reached the bottom step and burst out laughing, bringing back at least the sound of the old Molly. “You lost your bet, Susannah,” she said gaily. “I did wear it. So there. But there’s no way I’m going to be able to fit any of Smokey’s goose inside this thing with me. So I think I’ll just run back on upstairs and change into—”
Susannah ran over to her and grabbed her arm. “Oh, no, you don’t. You look stunning, sis, and you’re going to stay that way. And besides, you don’t win the bet until you wear it to the Overstreets’ party tomorrow.”
“Oh, do keep it on, Molly,” Mary Beth urged. “You look like a princess.”
“A star,” Smokey agreed. “Your father always said you three were his lucky stars. And I have a feeling he’s up there watching us tonight.”
Molly’s eyes misted at the old cook’s words. “I think so, too,” she said softly. She looked up at the ceiling, held her arms out to the side and twirled. “Can you see me, Papa? Do I look like one of your stars?”
Mary Beth and Susannah each seized one of her hands. “Here we are, Papa,” Susannah said loudly. “Your three stars, all dressed up for Christmas and for you.”
“Your papa would be so proud of you girls,” Smokey murmured. “You’re like a trio of angels.”
“Amen to that.” Parker found his voice for the first time. Now that she was laughing with her sisters, Molly was looking a little bit more like herself. Her soft brown hair had come out of its knot in places and made wispy tendrils against her neck. She’d kicked off the slippers that had added to her stature as she’d descended the stairs, saying, “Well, I’m sure as shooting not wearing these torturous things all night.” But nevertheless, the transformation was amazing. He’d suspected that her figure would rival her sisters’, but he hadn’t known it would be such perfection. He found his eyes darting constantly to the smooth white expanse of her bare neck and chest.
“Do you like it, Parker?” Molly asked, a little catch in her voice that made her sound more like Mary Beth than herself.
“Yes, ma’am.” Parker tried to keep his voice light. “That getup’s a sight prettier than two-year-old buckskins, if you ask me.”
She stuck her tongue out at him while Mary Beth chided, “You’re supposed to say something gallant, Parker.”
He gave a grin he was not entirely feeling. “I agree with Smokey—you’re the prettiest trio west of the Mississippi.”
“But not as pretty as the girls in New York?” Susannah asked a little caustically.
He shifted his gaze slowly, studying each of the three of them in turn. “Ladies, I’d wager you’d turn heads in any city of the world, including New York.”
They looked satisfied with his answer and turned happily, arm in arm, toward the dining room. Smokey lumbered after them, leaving Parker standing in the middle of the parlor, wondering why he felt as if his world had just gotten much more complex than it had been only a few hours ago.
After gorging themselves on Smokey’s supper, they heaped praises on his culinary abilities until he was pink with pleasure.
“I’ve never had a finer meal at Delmonico’s in the heart of New York,” Parker had declared, which had led to another round of questions from Susannah and Mary Beth about life back in the glamorous big city.
Finally they retired to the parlor to open the gifts that had been snuck under the tree during the course of the day by members of the household. Parker had purchased fine leather riding gloves for each of the sisters and a meerschaum pipe for Smokey, to replace the battered old one the cook pulled out each evening after finishing up the dishes. The gifts were much finer than would be expected from a typical cowhand, but not, Molly supposed, out of the ordinary for the son of a New York banker.
Susannah exclaimed with delight when she opened her pair, which had been dyed blue, and crossed the room to bend and give Parker a quick kiss of thanks on the cheek, looking defiantly at her sister as she straightened.
Molly let the gesture pass without comment. She would probably let a band of armed Indians pass without comment this evening. She was having trouble enough keeping her head sitting straight on her shoulders. When Susannah had taunted her about buying a real dress for once, she hadn’t admitted to herself that Parker was a large part of the reason she had accepted the dare. But tonight, as she’d seen his eyes on her again and again with that admiring, almost predatory glint in them, she realized that she’d wanted to impress him. Of course, he’d looked at Susannah that way, too, and Molly certainly couldn’t compete with her sister in attracting male attention. The fact that tonight Parker’s gaze was more often on her than on either of her curvier, blond sisters was simply because of the novelty of it all. But nevertheless, she’d felt a strange fluttering inside her every time she saw that particular look.
The dress seemed to make her more aware of herself and everything else around her—the gentle sway of it alongside her hips as she moved, the cool air on her bare arms, the heat of the fire against her chest. And under it all, that not unpleasant flutter. Was this why women went through what they did to dress in such impractical garb?
“Here’s another one for you, Molly.” Mary Beth was kneeling next to the tree, digging out the last of the packages.
Molly went to claim her gift and bent to pick up another cloth-wrapped bundle at its side. “This one’s for you, Parker,” she said self-consciously. Now that it had come time to give it to him, she’d begun to feel a little embarrassed about
the gift she’d chosen for him.
He stood to take it from her, a warm smile on his face. He was wearing a loose shirt of some kind of fine, white material that contrasted sharply with his tanned face and dark brown hair. She’d never seen such a shirt before on a man, Molly realized. It gave him a dashing air that added to his stark good looks. She handed him the package, her heart speeding up a little as his fingers brushed over hers. Hell’s bells, she was mooning more than Susannah. Just because they had a handsome man working for them didn’t mean that she had to turn into a ninny. She backed away from him. Perhaps, after all, she’d best march on upstairs and get back into her trousers.
“Thank you,” Parker was saying. “You folks didn’t need to do this.” His flowy shirt moved right along with his muscles as he sat back down and began to untie his gift. It was a leather-bound book entitled Roughing It.
Molly watched his reaction anxiously, her words tumbling out. “It’s about a man’s adventures coming out West. Mr. Simon over at the general store told me about it. I thought you might…since you’ve come out here yourself…and you like book learning and all…” She stopped and bit her lip. Why couldn’t she have just bought him the tin of tobacco her father always had given the hands?
“Mark Twain, of course.”
“You’ve read it?” she asked, dismayed.
“No. I’ve read Innocents Abroad, about his travels in Europe. He’s brilliant—very funny. It’s a perfect gift, Molly, thank you. Thank all of you,” he said, including the rest of them in his smile.
“Susannah and I have our own presents for you,” Mary Beth said, jumping to her feet and crossing over to him with two more packages.
Everyone watched him open them. Mary Beth had knit him a gray wool scarf. In the other package was a kerchief on which Susannah had chain stitched PP in each corner. As he finished, Smokey threw a pair of unwrapped wool socks into his lap. “To keep you warm out there in the bunkhouse,” the cook said gruffly.
Parker sat back in his chair and surveyed the group. “I’m overwhelmed. I don’t know what to say.”