The trouble had started the year before, back before Mama married Papa. Big Jack had hired Mama to design the most beautiful wedding dress ever created for his daughters to wear at their upcoming weddings. He was a superstitious fool, and when his daughters all suffered accidents after having worn the gown Mama had sewn, he blamed the dress. Then, when his son died while seeking revenge against Mama, Big Jack went crazy. He’d kidnapped Mama and Uncle Tye—thinking he was Papa because the twins look so much alike—and when Uncle Tye was protecting Mama, Big Jack shot him in the shoulder. But everything turned out all right when Mama outsmarted Big Jack by threatening to put a curse on his family. Because of The Bad Luck Wedding Dress, Big Jack had believed her.
Now it looked as if he’d changed his mind.
“Emmie, I need out of this wagon.” A tear rolled down Katrina’s cheek. “I’m about to wet my bloomers. And the sun’s gonna burn us to crispy critters if we stay here like this all day. We should have worn our bonnets.”
Sarcasm riddled Maribeth’s voice as she said, “Well, we were fools not to guess we’d be kidnapped and stranded Lord-only-knows-where on the prairie. We should have known to bring our bonnets with us when we snuck out of Willow Hill at midnight.”
Emma eyed Big Jack, then the buzzards, then the sun, and finally her sisters. “Set your legs over here, Kat.
Now that the sun is up enough for me to see what I’m doing, I’ll try to pick apart the knot. Mari, why don’t you work on yours, too.”
“I already have been trying,” Maribeth protested. “I’m tied up tighter than a fat lady’s corset.”
So was Emma. In fact, the rope around her wrists was so tight her hands had gone numb, and that made the work on her sister’s ropes all the more difficult. She plucked and pulled until her fingers screamed with pain, but finally the knot gave and Katrina’s rope fell free.
The youngest girl flexed her fingers and cried, “Yeow! It feels like I’ve got a hundred needles stuck in me.”
Necessity made her ignore the pain as blood rushed back into her hands. With ankles still bound, and at Emma’s direction, she hopped to the front of the wagon, bent over Big Jack’s motionless body, and removed the gleaming Bowie knife from its sheath.
“Now, be careful,” Emma said as Kat started slicing at the rope around her ankles. “Don’t cut yourself.”
“I won’t.”
She didn’t. Ten minutes later, the three girls stood a short distance away from the wagon, their wrists and ankles sore, their mouths thirsty, and their stomachs growling. But at least their bladders felt better.
Maribeth set down the shotgun she’d confiscated from Big Jack and raised her arms above her head for a good long stretch. “What do you think, Em? Should we roll Big Jack out of the wagon and drive it back to town?”
Emma pointed the Colt revolver she’d taken from the captor’s holster toward the circling buzzards. “I’d say yes if we had any clue what direction to go. The horse wandered for who knows how many hours without someone at the reins.”
“Are we lost?” Katrina asked around the thumb stuck in her mouth.
“Well…” Emma said. “Once the clouds covered up the stars I lost all track of the direction we traveled.”
“Then we’re as lost as an outhouse in fog,” Maribeth observed, studying the countryside as she turned in a slow circle. “If we go the wrong way, we could be lost on the prairie for days. Even weeks!” She looked at Emma. “What do you think, Emma? What do we do next? Have you come up with a plan?”
“I have a plan,” Katrina said, perking up. She pointed toward the bottle peeking out of the top of Maribeth’s dress pocket. “We can dose him up with love potion. If he is in love with us, he’ll do whatever we want. We’ll make him take us home. What do you think, Em?”
Emma nibbled at her lower lip and considered her youngest sister’s suggestion. Slowly she shook her head. “I don’t know, Kat. It’s a good idea, but I’m a bit concerned at the idea of Big Jack Bailey being in love with us. What if he wanted to marry us?”
“Yuck,” Kat said, shuddering. “Never mind. I don’t like that plan after all. Do you have another one in mind?”
Emma nodded slowly. “It’s not much of one, I’m afraid, and a lot depends on Big Jack’s mood once he wakes up. But it’s the best I can do at the moment.”
Once she explained, her sisters pitched in and followed her directions. The hardest part proved to be rolling Big Jack from the wagon seat down into the back of the buckboard. “Talk about dead weight,” Maribeth muttered.
Emma took the reins and ordered the grazing horse forward toward the tree line Maribeth had pointed out along the western horizon. Sine enough, they found a stream. Once the girls and the horse had drunk their fill of the sweet, refreshing water, Emma retrieved the wool blanket from the back of the buckboard and dipped it in the stream.
The wet blanket did the trick. Moments later Big Jack Bailey came awake spouting a rousing stream of curses.
Emma and Mari knelt on the buckboard’s seat facing the back of the wagon, their guns aimed at the rancher. Katrina knelt beside them, gripping the handle of the knife.
Bailey groaned and tried to sit up. He couldn’t. “Son of a bitch! I’m all tied up!”
“Yep.” Maribeth pointed the Colt at his chest. “You’re tied up, and you’re gonna stay that way until you direct us back to town. Our knots are real good, too. Better than yours. Papa taught us. You’ll be wasting your time if you try to work them loose.”
“You!” He gasped. “The three of you! The McBride Menaces.” Lying on his stomach, the rancher moaned pitiably against the bed of the wagon. “Oh, no. Not you. I thought last night was all a dream, a nightmare.”
“It was a nightmare,” Maribeth snapped. “Our nightmare. You kidnapped us, Mr. Big Jack, and you got us lost. That was not a smart thing to do. Now you have to tell us how to get home.”
“Kidnapped? Oh Lord, the curse!” The big man actually blubbered. “Listen to me, girls. I didn’t mean to. It was all an accident. I never intended to have anything to do with your family again.”
At his reaction, Emma relaxed a little bit. “Then why did you do it?”
“I don’t know! I don’t remember.” Bailey lifted his head, and his wild eyes met her gaze. “Wait a minute. Yes, I do. I remember now. I looked at the moon through the bushes. That’s what did it I drank a little too much down at the Snake Pit and I was walking it oft when I slipped and fell. There it was—the moon shining through the holly. That’s what brought on the bad luck.”
“Bad luck?” Maribeth frowned in confusion.
“Getting tangled up with the likes of the McBride Menaces,” he moaned. “I no sooner climbed to my feet than the three of you appeared.”
Emma’s mouth dropped open as she eyed Big Jack incredulously. He was well known for being the most superstitious person in a superstitious town, but moon shining through holly bringing bad luck? How ridiculous!
Big Jack levered himself over onto his back and shut his eyes against the sun. “I know your mama is out of town, but curses don’t need proximity to work. She can’t find out what’s happened. We can’t let her find out.”
Maribeth nudged Emma’s sleeve. “That would probably be best for us, too. Think of what she’d do to us. Think of what Papa would do to us. Uncle Tye is one thing, but Papa? Our hind ends wouldn’t be worth sitting on for years.”
Slowly Emma nodded, whispering in reply, “Actually, I’m afraid that this time we might have crossed the line, even with Uncle Tye. He’s bound to be worried sick about us by now, and if he learns about the spelling bee plan and the love potion, well…he is Papa’s twin brother, after all.”
“We’re doomed,” Maribeth declared.
“Oh, I hurt,” Bailey groaned. “My body. My head. I have a herd of cattle running through it How long was I out?”
“It’s going on mid-morning now.”
He muttered something beneath his breath. “Someone will hav
e missed you?”
“Yes.”
“Damn.”
Emma thought the word summed up the situation quite well.
“Wait a minute.” Puzzlement stole through his voice as he cocked open one eye and said, “My bad luck aside, what were the three of you doing down in Hell’s Half Acre that time of night? That’s no place for young children. Why, I’d have walloped my girls if they’d pulled a stunt like that. What were you up to?”
“We were visiting Madam LaRue,” Katrina explained before Emma managed to clamp her hand over her younger sister’s mouth to shut her up.
“The witch. I should have guessed. What mischief are y’all up to now? I reckon without your stepmother around to practice her voodoo, you need a substitute.”
“Don’t you talk bad about my mama,” Katrina warned, lifting the knife in an unspoken threat.
Jack Bailey scowled at the youngest McBride, then addressed Emma. “Look, I’ve admitted this was all a mistake, so you can lower the weapons and untie me. We need to work together. We all need to get y’all back to town in such a way that the adults in your family don’t find out what happened. We need a plan, a story. Let’s start thinking of one, all right?”
Emma scowled at him. “Why should we trust you?”
“Because if we don’t work this right, you’ll be in as much trouble as I am. Think about it. What would your folks do if they knew I’d found you haunting Hell’s Half Acre after midnight?”
The three sisters met each other’s gazes, communicating wordlessly. After a moment Maribeth lowered the Colt and massaged her aching arm with her free hand. “You won’t fight letting us go?”
“Of course not. I don’t want to cause you any harm. You’re little girls. Little McBride girls. I want you to go home.” He had the nerve to look offended as he added, “What kind of man do you think I am?”
“You’re a bad man,” Katrina said, dropping the knife onto the wagon seat and folding her arms in a huff. “You hurt our Uncle Tye and our mama.”
Big Jack closed his eyes at that. For a long moment the only sound to be heard was Kat’s indignant sniff and the horse’s nicker. Then the rancher spoke in a troubled tone. “It was wrong of me. I know that. But then I was caught up in grief for my son. I’m through the worst of that now. Losing my boy, and the troubles my daughters had, well, it changed me. I’ve reformed.”
Maribeth gave a snort of disbelief. “If you reformed, then how come you stole us?”
“It wasn’t my fault. I told you that. It was bad luck.”
“I don’t think it was bad luck,” Katrina stated. “Bad luck is good for us. The Bad Luck Wedding Dress brought us a new mother, so now it’s the Good Luck Wedding Dress. I can’t figure out anything good about being here with you. You tied us up and got us lost. I’m hungry. You are a bad, mean man, Mr. Big Jack.”
“All right, I’m bad and I’m mean,” he said, impatience heavy in his voice. “But we’re not lost. We can’t be lost.” He struggled to sit up and finally managed to get his head above the wagon’s side slats.
The girls watched silently as he slowly panned his head around. “Oh, Lord,” he muttered.
“What is it?” Emma asked, fearing she already knew the answer.
He sighed loud enough to scare a mockingbird from a nearby tree. “Looks like we might just have plenty of time to come up with a story to tell your uncle. You were right. We are lost.”
***
AT THE end of the longest night of his life, Tye watched daylight dawn in a muted pallet of pink, purple, and mauve. He paced like a panther along the southern bank of the Trinity River, waiting for the morning to grow light enough to search the muddy slope for signs he prayed he wouldn’t find. His eyes were gritty; his body weary. He had not slept in almost twenty-four hours.
He didn’t much expect to discover evidence of the Blessings here along the river. The amount of time they’d remained missing combined with the clues he and Claire had found in their room led him to believe they’d hopped the train for New Orleans. But until responses to his telegrams arrived, he didn’t know what else to do other than search for them in Fort Worth. So that’s what he did.
His mind drifted back to the previous day, recalling the many efforts he and the townspeople had made, wondering if they had overlooked any possibility and unable to imagine what it might be. The citizens of Fort Worth had come out in force to look for the McBride children. Officially, the sheriff led the search, but as the hours passed it became obvious that the indomitable Donovan family directed the townspeople’s efforts.
The Confederacy could have used a few generals like John Donovan. Some majors like Claire’s brothers wouldn’t have hurt, either. Still, despite a thorough exploration of every nook and cranny in town, no one discovered even a hint as to the girls’ whereabouts.
For a little while Tye had pinned his hopes on young Casey Tate since the boy had partnered the girls in their pranks a time or two in the past. Tye had questioned the boy, and once he’d convinced him of the seriousness of the matter, Casey had rattled off a stream of schemes and pranks that had Tye shaking his head in wonder at the scope of his nieces’ imaginations. He’d tracked down teachers and playmates and merchants. He’d even spoken with a fortune-teller down in Hell’s Half Acre. All he’d learned there was that Madam LaRue had sold Spike to Casey Tate.
Tye lifted his face toward the brightening sky and sent yet another prayer heavenward. Then, as the sun climbed above the treetops, he began to follow the Trinity’s shoreline, his gaze sharp, his footsteps heavy, weighted by the burden of his brother’s misplaced trust.
If the Blessings had come to harm on his watch, Tye would want to die.
A flash of red near the water caught his gaze and shook his composure. He scrambled down the bank and with trembling fingers lifted a twisted length of cloth from the cool water. Droplets of water scattered like rain as he shook the cotton open. Relief swept over him. A cowboy’s bandanna. Most likely lost while driving cattle across the river.
He’d never seen the girls wearing bandannas.
For the first time in hours a smile lifted the edges of his mouth. At the same moment, he heard the sound of Claire Donovan’s voice calling his name. He scrambled back up the bank and spied her driving his way in a coal-box buggy. She looked happy. Emotion clutched his chest as he called out hopefully, “They’ve been found?”
He saw it in her eyes before she shook her head. “No, I’m sorry, Tye. Not yet.”
He kicked a rock and sent it flying toward the river. It entered the water with a plop that sounded like his heart felt.
“Brian told me I’d find you out here,” Claire said, pulling up beside him. “He took the next shift at the telegraph office when the operator went back to my house to sleep.” She held up a basket and added, “I brought you coffee and fresh muffins.”
“Thanks. I’ll take the coffee.” He’d leave the muffin alone, however. He knew if he tried to force down one of the Blessings’ favorite breakfast foods he’d choke on it.
Tye secured the horse and buggy for her while Claire carried the basket to a large flat rock beside the river. Setting it down, she flipped back the lid and removed an earthenware jug. She pulled the cork and the aroma of strong coffee rose along with the steam and teased Tye’s senses. After filling a mug with the brew, she offered it to him. “Did you get any sleep at all?”
He accepted the coffee with a shrug and lied, “Sure.”
She studied him, then wrinkled her nose with disbelief. “I saw Brian at the telegraph office. He said to tell you replies are beginning to come in from every train stop between here and the Louisiana border.”
“Good,” he replied, nodding as he sipped from the mug. “I don’t suppose we’ve received any word from New Orleans?”
“Actually…” With an apologetic look, Claire reached into her basket and brought out a sheet of paper. “Under the circumstances I won’t apologize for reading it. It’s the longest telegram I�
��ve ever seen. Mrs. West hasn’t heard from the girls, and I’m afraid the tone of her message is…well…it’s not very nice. I don’t know if you really want to read this.”
Tye scanned the page, his scowl deepening with every word. It wasn’t difficult to see where Constance had gotten her character. Bitch was too nice a term for Beatrice West.
If my granddaughters arrive on my doorstep, I won’t allow them to leave.
“I won’t allow them to stay,” Tye muttered, crumpling the telegram in his fist. No way in hell would he let Beatrice West’s influence corrupt his Blessings. Look what she’d done to her own daughter.
He reared back and threw the paper into the Trinity, the left-handed toss sailing the ball farther than he would have guessed. Hot coffee sloshed over the rim of the cup with the movement, scalding his skin. He hardly noticed the outer pain, because inside he hurt so fiercely.
As much as he hated the idea of his nieces being within spitting distance of that old crone and her cold mansion, he prayed they’d turn up there. “It’s a helluva deal.”
“Wouldn’t you like a sweet roll, Tye?” Claire asked. “They’re Patrick’s, and he’s the best roll maker in the family.”
Tye took one even though he didn’t want it. During this nightmare, Claire had displayed such concern and caring. In fact her whole family had acted that way. Shocked the hell out of him. Maybe there was something in those folks worth her love after all. Taking a small bite of the sweet, he swallowed and said, “Thanks, Claire.”
“You’re welcome. I hope you enjoy it.”
“I didn’t mean breakfast. Well, I did…but I meant more, too. You and your family have been a big help. The search through town took half as much time as it otherwise would have if your father hadn’t been there directing the sheriff.”
Claire’s mouth twisted in a rueful smile. “No one is better than my da when it comes to organizing and directing people. Besides, everyone wanted to help the Menaces and Lord McBride.”
The Bad Luck Wedding Cake Page 17