Praise for the Romances
of Catherine Anderson
“Anderson comes up with another winner by deftly blending sweetness and sensuality in a poignantly written story.”
—Booklist
“Catherine Anderson has a gift for imbuing her characters with dignity, compassion, courage, and strength that inspire readers.”
—Romantic Times
Comanche Magic
“Catherine Anderson is an extraordinary talent. She has a voice that is gritty and tender, realistic and romantic, and always unique.”
—Elizabeth Lowell
Here to Stay
“Another wonderful, very emotional story of the Harrigan family.”
—Romantic Times
Indigo Blue
“A marvelous, moving, poignant, and sensual love story. . . . Ms. Anderson holds her readers spellbound.”
—Romantic Times
Early Dawn
“Never stinting on the harsh reality inherent in the setting, the author tempers the roughness with a powerful love story and remarkable characters. She draws out every emotion and leaves readers with a true understanding of life and love.”
—Romantic Times
Comanche Heart
“Riveting, passionate, and powerful . . . everything a romance should be.”
—Amanda Quick
“Highly sensual and very compelling . . . a truly spectacular read.”
—Linda Lael Miller
“I thoroughly enjoyed [it].”
—Karen Robards
Star Bright
“Catherine Anderson brilliantly grabbed my attention right away with a brainy tale of intrigue . . . an emotionally moving and romantic treat that you’re sure to enjoy.”
—Night Owl Romance (Top Pick)
Morning Light
“This is a story not to be missed. Morning Light delivers on all levels, and is a fantastic read that will touch readers at the very core of their being.”
—The Romance Readers Connection
Sun Kissed
“This smart, wholesome tale should appeal to any fan of traditional romance.”
—Publishers Weekly
“Another heartwarming chapter in the Coulter family saga is on tap in the always wonderful Anderson’s newest release. . . . Anderson is at her best when it comes to telling stories that are deeply emotional and heartfelt.”
—Romantic Times (4½ Stars)
Summer Breeze
“Anderson understands the inner workings of the human soul so deeply that she’s able to put intense emotion within a stunning romance in such a way that you’ll believe in miracles. Add to this her beautiful writing style, memorable characters, and a timeless story, and you have an unmatched reading adventure.”
—Romantic Times (4½ Stars)
“The kind of book that will snare you so completely, you’ll not want to put it down. It engages the intellect and emotions; it’ll make you care. It will also make you smile . . . a lot. And that’s a guarantee.”
—Romance Reviews Today
My Sunshine
“With the author’s signature nurturing warmth and emotional depth, this beautifully written romance is a richly rewarding experience for any reader.”
—Booklist
Bright Eyes
“Offbeat family members and genuine familial love give a special lift to this marvelous story. An Anderson book is a guaranteed great read!”
—Romantic Times (4½ Stars, Top Pick)
Blue Skies
“Readers may need to wipe away tears . . . since few will be able to resist the power of this beautifully emotional, wonderfully romantic love story.”
—Booklist
“A keeper and a very strong contender for best contemporary romance of the year.”
—Romance Reviews Today
Only by Your Touch
“Ben Longtree is a marvelous hero whose extraordinary gifts bring a unique and special magic to this warmhearted novel. No one can tug your heartstrings better than Catherine Anderson.”
—Romantic Times (4½ Stars, Top Pick)
Always in My Heart
“Emotionally involving, family centered, and relationship oriented, this story is a rewarding read.”
—Library Journal
“[A] superbly written contemporary romance, which features just the kind of emotionally nourishing, comfortably compassionate… love story this author is known for creating.”
—Booklist
Sweet Nothings
“Pure reading magic.”
—Booklist
Phantom Waltz
“Anderson departs from traditional romantic stereotypes in this poignant, contemporary tale of a love that transcends all boundaries . . . romantic through and through.”
—Publishers Weekly
OTHER NOVELS BY CATHERINE ANDERSON
The Comanche Series
Comanche Moon
Comanche Heart
Indigo Blue
Comanche Magic
Harrigan Family Novels
Morning Light
Star Bright
Here to Stay
Coulter Family Contemporary Novels
Phantom Waltz
Sweet Nothings
Blue Skies
Bright Eyes
My Sunshine
Sun Kissed
Coulter Family Historical Novels
Summer Breeze
Early Dawn
Other Signet Books
Always in My Heart
Only by Your Touch
Sun Kissed Bonus Book
Catherine
Anderson
Lucky Penny
A SIGNET BOOK
SIGNET
Published by New American Library, a division of
Penguin Group (USA) Inc., 375 Hudson Street,
New York, New York 10014, USA
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First published by Signet, an imprint of New American Library,
a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.
First Printing, February 2012
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
Copyright © Adeline Catherine Anderson, 2012
All rights reserved
EISBN: 9781101559758
REGISTERED TRADEMARK—MARCA REGISTRADA
Printed in the United States of America
Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise), without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incid
ents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
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To my husband and hero, Sid.
I didn’t have a lucky penny in my pocket when I
met you, but it was still the luckiest moment of my
entire life. Thank you for all the years of happiness,
support, and love.
Acknowledgments
I would like to thank my editor, Ellen Edwards, who has been behind the scenes throughout most of my career. You’ve always been open to new ideas and have a wonderful talent for making a book the best that it can be without changing my writer’s voice. Together, we’ve become a great team. I would also like to thank everyone at New American Library for the unflagging enthusiasm and support, and I absolutely must express my gratitude to my agent, Steven Axelrod, for his professional advice over the years and his great sense of humor when I need a good laugh.
L u c k y P e n n y
Table of Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Epilogue
Prologue
No Name, Colorado
Monday, April 6, 1891
D
avid Paxton couldn’t quite credit that his little town had grown so quiet that he could rock back on his chair outside the jailhouse with nary a care to sour his mood. Over the past four months, since he’d changed his peacekeeping tactics, the barroom brawls and gunfights, common occurrences in the past, had become a rarity. At first he hadn’t felt confident that the change would last, but now he was finally starting to believe it would. No more tension, no need to keep an eye out for potential trouble. It had taken him a while to adjust to the change, but now that he had, his job as marshal seemed so easy it was almost boring.
In the early-morning breeze, his shoulder-length hair drifted across his face, making everything look limned in gold before he lazily pushed the strands back. How long had it been since he’d felt this relaxed? At least a year, damn it, or his eyes weren’t blue. Being tense and on guard all the time wasn’t good for a man’s constitution. Feeling certain he wouldn’t be awakened by the sound of gunfire last night, he had slumbered deeply. Hell, he felt so good he could swear he wasn’t a day more than twenty instead of the venerable thirty that he actually was. It was hard to believe he’d turn thirty-one in only a couple of months.
Old Mose Hepburn, the local drunk and David’s only prisoner, was sleeping it off in the cell block, as happy as a grub worm in a rotten log to be snoozing on a lumpy cot. Most times, he had to compete with rats for space in the hayloft of Chris Coffle’s livery stable. If the cantankerous old fart kept to his usual pattern, he wouldn’t come around until along about noon, and by then Billy Joe Roberts, one of David’s deputies, would be on duty to walk across the way to get Mose some breakfast. David sighed with contentment and flexed his shoulders, glad to be slothful for
a change and let his mind wander. No appointments, no meetings, and no rowdy cowpokes. His languorous mood was magnified by Sam, his fluffy gold and white dog, who lay beside him, snoring louder than a two-man crosscut saw.
It was a long-missed pleasure for David to watch the town of No Name awaken. And, oh, what a fine morning it was, putting him in mind of his early years, when he’d sometimes had nothing better to do than sit on the back stoop and watch the grass grow. The planks of the boardwalk creaked as he shifted his weight. A fly, the first David had seen since last autumn, buzzed in to cut circles in front of his nose. Sunlight spilled over the roof peaks at the opposite side of Main Street and slanted under the overhang. Butter yellow warmth bathed the lower half of his face where his hat brim didn’t cast a shadow and seeped through his leather duster and shirt to make him feel toasty despite the chill temperatures of early spring. Yep, and boy howdy, it was shaping up to be a great day.
Slumped on the tottery contraption of ancient wood he still called a chair, David extended his long legs and crossed his booted feet to study his spurs. He hated the damned things, would never use them on a horse, and felt silly wearing them, but his sister-in-law Caitlin insisted they were “necessary accoutrements” to his new marshal’s outfit. Trust her to come up with a big word for every little thing. Turning his ankles, he noted with grim satisfaction that the once-silver rowels were now pewter gray and specked with dry mud. Not so long ago, he would have rushed over to Gilpatrick’s general store for some polish to restore their sparkle. Not anymore. He’d learned the hard way that a town marshal who paraded about in a starched shirt, pressed blue jeans, and spit-shined boots was asking for trouble. Now, under the direction of his elder brother Ace, a renowned ex-gunslinger, David dressed more like a roughrider than a peacekeeper, and he sure did appreciate the results. No upstart fast guns had called him out into the street in well over three months.
A loud thump brought Sam’s snoring to a halt and caught David’s attention. Squinting against the light, he directed his gaze across the way to the source of the noise. Roxie Balloux, the buxom and ever-cheerful proprietress of No Name’s best restaurant, had just emerged from the establishment from a side service doorway with a five-gallon slop bucket in each hand. Reddish brown hair caught at her crown in a coiled braid, she looked fetching in a tidy, blue-checked gingham housedress with lacy shoulder caps and a fashionable new bustle that was supposedly more streamlined than its predecessors. To the delight of most men, the effect was lost on Roxie. She was plump in all the right places and needed no posterior enhancement. Hell, Roxie wearing a bustle was sort of like ladling whipped cream over apple pie à la mode, a bit too much of a good thing. Not that any man with blood still moving in his veins could think about food when he admired her backside. Sadly, she would turn thirty-five in August, making her a mite too long in the tooth for David, who still hoped to marry and raise a family.
As Roxie descended the porch steps, Old Jeb, a black dog belonging to Jesse Chandler, the chimney sweep, appeared out of nowhere, barking excitedly and circling at her feet as she upended the buckets over the trash barrel. She let loose with a sigh, audible even at a distance, and gingerly routed through the slop to find the shaggy beggar a treat. She tossed the canine a ham hock generously peppered with what looked like coffee grounds. Jeb wasn’t fussy and dropped onto his belly in a patch of grass, still yellow from winter, to gnaw happily on the bone.
Sam, who either heard Jeb chewing or caught the smell, jerked awake and whined. David lowered a hand to his pet’s head. “No way, you rascal. Every time you eat Roxie’s slop, you get the squirts.”
The s
hepherd grunted and went back to snoring. David rocked, shifted, and went back to lollygagging, his gaze idly scanning the businesses across the street. Next door to the eating establishment, Tobias Thompson, so thin he didn’t cast a shadow standing sideways, emerged from his dry-goods store with broom in hand. Same as always, he wore a blue bib apron over black trousers and a white shirt with a turned-down collar that sported a red necktie. Even in the shade of the boardwalk overhang, his bald pate gleamed like polished agate as he bent to the task of sweeping his doorstep.
Watching the man work, David reached under his hat to scratch, hoping to high heaven he’d never lose his hair. He guessed he’d just wear a hat all the time when he got old. He wore one most of the time, anyhow.
The batwing doors of the Golden Slipper saloon creaked open just then. David glanced to his left, expecting to see Mac, the owner of the establishment, stepping out for a breath of fresh morning air. Instead, Marcy May Jones, the newly hired upstairs girl, posed in the doorway. David damned near swallowed his tongue. She wore a pink wrapper—in a manner of speaking—with the sash looped carelessly at her waist, one slender shoulder and most of one breast artfully displayed. David was so taken aback that he couldn’t think what to do or say. He was the marshal, after all, responsible for law, order, and upholding the decency codes of the town, but how in the Sam Hill did a man tell a lady to get her pretty little ass back inside where it belonged?
David wasn’t the only male on the street who reacted with a start. Tobias froze with his broom in midswing, and his grown son, Brad, the town’s newly appointed garbage collector, almost took out an overhang post with the right rear wheel of his fully loaded wagon as he cut the corner from the alley onto Main. One of the mules brayed in protest as Brad jerked hard on the reins to stop.