Wilde Bunch

by Barbara Boswell

  The Wilde Bunch

  Barbara Boswell

  Contents

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  One

  “Whatever can go wrong, will go wrong?” The Reverend Will Franklin shook his head, frowning. “I’m afraid I can’t agree with you on that, Mac. It’s too cynical, too pessimistic.” He set down his coffee cup and leaned forward, his expression earnest. “It doesn’t leave room for the power of—”

  “Positive thinking,” Macauley Wilde interjected. “I know, I know. I read that book you lent to me. And I tried thinking positive thoughts when Brick was expelled for a week for fighting after only one day at his new school. I tried positive thinking when Lily sneaked out of the house and stayed out all night. I tried to think positive when little Clay and his ‘gang’ broke into the high school and liberated all the white mice from their cages in the science lab and got himself suspended. I tried—”

  “I know how difficult it’s been,” Reverend Will cut in. He did not want to be converted to Mac’s cynical, pessimistic viewpoint. At this rate, he might well be. “Your brother Reid’s children have had an—uh—difficult adjustment to life here in Bear Creek.”

  “They haven’t adjusted at all,” Mac said grimly. “And they don’t intend to. They’re maniacs, Rev. Sometimes they’re blatant, sometimes they’re subtle, but each child is maniacal in his or her own different way.”

  “I won’t deny that the four of them are...uh...difficult.” The reverend cleared his throat. He was aware that he was overusing the word difficult, but it was the most tactful adjective available to him. A man of the cloth should not use words like monstrous, heinous, atrocious. Especially not when describing children. “Anyway, I wasn’t speaking of the power of positive thinking. I meant to say the power of prayer.”

  “Religion doesn’t apply to those kids. Unless you’re talking exorcism.”

  “I know you’re only joking, Mac.” Reverend Will smiled uneasily. “You’ve always had a keen sense of humor.”

  “Rev, I’m not laughing. Those kids have been with me for less than six months and something’s got to give. When they arrived in June, I figured they’d have all summer to settle in and be ready for school in September. Wrong! Things became exponentially worse. Now it’s mid-October and I’m desperate. We can’t go on like this.”

  The reverend tensed. “Are you thinking of giving them up to the state?”

  “Ha! The state won’t take them. Since they’ve been here such a short time, Montana thinks they should be returned to their native state of California which says, ‘oh, no, not our problem anymore.’ The surrounding states—Idaho, Washington, Oregon—have already warned that their borders are sealed and not to even think of trying to dump those kids there.”

  “Hyperbole.” Reverend Will chuckled appreciatively. “Most telling. But I understand the point you’re trying to make, Mac.”

  “That the Wilde kids are notoriously incorrigible and have invoked terror in every child welfare worker unlucky enough to cross their path?”

  “No. That you intend to keep Reid and Linda’s children, no matter what. I admire your courage, Mac. I mean, your dedication,” Reverend Will corrected himself hastily, his neck flushing. “Your resolve.”

  “They’re my flesh and blood, Rev.” Mac sighed. “I loved my brother and I was genuinely fond of Linda, too, even though I tended to see things differently from them.”

  “Most people saw things differently from Reid and Linda,” Reverend Will said tactfully. “It’s just too bad that you didn’t get the children immediately after the death of their parents. The year they spent with your brother James and his wife Eve was quite...unfortunate. I think most of their problems stem from that—uh—difficult time.”

  “Amen, Rev. I know I wouldn’t want to live with James and Eve, either. I offered to take the kids then, but James and Eve insisted they should be the ones to raise them, as they’re a ‘solid marital unit.’ That’s how they refer to themselves.” Mac grimaced. “They pointed out that since I had been a partner in a defective marital unit, it would be detrimental to bring children into my inadequate broken home. They considered me unfit to raise kids, until they decided they couldn’t stand the little monsters. Then it was ‘off you go to Uncle Mac’s, even though he’s divorced, defective and inadequate.’”

  “James and Eve undoubtedly meant well, but they are—” Reverend Will paused to cough discreetly. “Difficult.” There was that word again. But it wouldn’t do for a man of the cloth to use judgmental terms like self-righteous, self-satisfied and petty to describe that solid marital unit of James and Eve Wilde.

  “And you are not a failure because your marriage didn’t work out, Mac. You and Amy were too young when you married, you both wanted different things and you grew apart.” The minister shrugged. “Unfortunate, but it happens. What shouldn’t happen is to let a mistake which happened long ago keep you from committing to another permanent relationship.”

  “Uh-oh. Here it comes. Your semi-annual ‘find yourself a nice girl and settle down’ sermon.” Mac held up his hands, as if to ward off the words.

  “At the risk of sounding like James and Eve, promoting themselves as a solid marital unit, I would like to point out that having a woman in your house would certainly add some stability to the environment. Not to mention a sense of family and permanence which I think those four unfortunate children desperately need.”

  “I knew you were going to say that!” Mac stood and began to pace in front of the big granite fireplace. The head of a moose, complete with a spectacular set of antlers, was mounted above it. “And here’s the kicker, Rev. I actually agree with you. I swore I was through with marriage after that fiasco with Amy, but I know I can’t raise those kids alone—I need another adult in the house with me. But just when I finally decide I have to have a wife, guess what.”

  He stopped pacing and stared up at the moose head. “No woman is interested in the position. Not when it means taking on my brother’s kids.”

  “Did you actually discuss marriage with one of your—lady friends?” Reverend Will asked curiously.

  Mac shrugged. “I didn’t exactly propose, but I brought up the subject. Jill Finlay shuddered and said she wasn’t interested in raising anybody’s children but her own. Tonya Bennett told me, ‘Lose the kids and then we’ll talk about marriage.’ Marcy Tanner said she wanted to marry me but insisted that the kids would sabotage our chance for happiness and I should send them packing. Of course, if I didn’t have the kids, I wouldn’t need to marry any of them. I wouldn’t want to. But things being how they are...”

  He locked eyes with the moose. “It’s hopeless, Rev. What woman in her right mind would want to marry me and move in with the Gang of Four?”

  “To think that just last year, you were voted the ‘Most Eligible Bachelor in Bear Creek’ at the hospital auxiliary’s Valentine dance.” The reverend sighed. “Well, I’m disappointed in Jill and Tonya and Marcy, but not surprised. You need a young woman of exceptional depth and commitment and those ladies do not fit the bill. But I know someone who does, Mac.”

  “Trying to play matchmaker, Rev?” Mac stared at the older man. “Thanks but no thanks. If I can’t find my own—”

  “Mac, sorry to interrupt!” A tall, tough-looking cowboy burst into the room, sounding as agitated as he looked.

  Mac felt his stomach lurch. His ranch manager, Webb Asher, was not quick to panic. He never would have come to the house unless it was a genuine emergency. “What is it, Webb?”

  “The fencing is down in the north field, Mac. Ca
n’t tell how it happened, but the cattle trampled it and are milling around in the direction of Blood Canyon.”

  “Just when I thought things couldn’t get any worse!” Mac growled. “We have to repair that fence and start rounding up the cattle immediately.” He glanced at his watch. “And I’m supposed to pick up Autumn at five at the Community Center when her dance class is over.”

  “I could ask my daughter Tricia to pick her up and drive her out here to the Double R,” Reverend Will offered. “That is, if you think Autumn will get into the car with Tricia.”

  “I don’t know.” Mac started pacing again. “Autumn doesn’t know Tricia very well and she has all these fears.... That kid sees danger lurking everywhere. And I’ve never heard anybody scream louder than she does when she’s upset.”

  “That’s the truth!” Webb agreed, injecting himself into the conversation. “First time that kid screamed, I thought a bear grabbed her and was mauling her. But she was screaming ‘cause her brother was throwing water balloons at her and told her they were filled with acid. Kid thought her skin was going to peel off from acid burns.” The ranch manager shrugged quizzically. “Who’d think a little girl would know about stuff like acid burns?”

  “Autumn specializes in the grisly and the gruesome,” Mac said glumly. “I think she does research.”

  “The child does have a highly imaginative streak,” Reverend Will murmured. “A pity her imagination tends toward the—uh—morbid side.”

  Mac paced faster. “How can I be in two places at the same time? Picking up Autumn and working in the north field? Most of the time I feel as if I’m being pulled in five different directions at once, and I see no end in sight.”

  “If you had a wife at home, she would be supervising the children,” the pastor pointed out. “She could help cook meals and—”

  “Meals! Dinner!” Mac slapped his hand to his forehead and groaned in despair. “Damn, I forgot about dinner.”

  “Can’t Lily cook for the younger children?” Reverend Will asked. “I know she’s taking a cooking class at the high school because my Tricia is in it.”

  “Your Tricia might cook a meal for her family, but Lily will either set fire to the kitchen or poison the other kids. Deliberately.” Mac sighed. “Mrs. Lattimore makes us casseroles for three dinners on the days she comes in to clean, but the other four days dinner is one of my major headaches.”

  “The young lady I have in mind for you loves to cook, Mac,” Reverend Will remarked, his tone purposefully enticing. “She’s great with kids and has always wanted a family of her own. She is currently working in Washington, D.C., and from her letters, I feel certain that she’s ready for a change. We could bring her to Bear Creek and—”

  “Like a mail-order bride, sort of thing?” Mac gave a hoot of laughter. “Sounds like the plot of a romance novel, Rev. And I don’t look a bit like that blond-haired guy who’s on all those covers.”

  “It’s no worse than advertising in the personal ads, which many people do these days,” the reverend pointed out. “And my plan is certainly a lot better and safer. I can personally vouch for both you and Kara and the two of you can—”

  “Hey, Mac, your nephew is driving the Jeep,” Webb exclaimed, dashing toward the front door.

  “Brick?” Mac uttered a curse. “He’s supposed to be in school. If he got himself expelled again...”

  The three men raced to the front porch.

  “Good Lord, it’s little Clay!” gasped Reverend Will.

  For one paralyzing moment the three men watched the second-grader behind the wheel.

  “Hey, Uncle Mac,” young Clay shouted out the window of the Jeep, which was jouncing around the circular drive. “I got sent home early today ‘cause I’m infected. See how good I can drive!”

  “Infected with what?” Webb backed away from Mac.

  “I’d heard the elementary school was experiencing an epidemic of chicken pox,” Reverend Will said. “If Clay has it, he’ll miss at least a week of school. My little Joanna missed two weeks when she caught it a few years ago.”

  “Good luck working the ranch and taking care of a sick kid, Mac,” Webb said in a better-you-than-me tone of voice.

  “A marriage of convenience is starting to look mighty tempting,” Mac uttered. “A sensible arrangement between two adults who know what they want and are beyond confusing fantasy with the realities of everyday life. At least we’d be spared all those falling-in-love delusions that just mess everything up. Rev, get that family-loving girl you know out here as soon as you can. At my expense,” he added, just before making a mad dash toward the Jeep.

  * * *

  Kara Kirby read the letter over and over, willing the words to change. They didn’t. The message remained the same.

  It is with regret I inform you that, as a result of the recent decision to eliminate overstaffing in certain functions performed within the Department of Commerce, your position will be eliminated within thirty days of the date of this letter.

  The letter went on, reassuring her that this was not a result of her job performance, which had been consistently excellent, but rather a necessary adjunct to the department’s continuing efforts to reduce expenditures in areas which no longer occupied the same level of priority as they had in the past.

  She was out of a job! Thirty days from today, she would be unemployed, her position as a statistician for the Department of Commerce having been eliminated in another round of government budget cuts.

  Hot tears filled Kara’s eyes, and she fought the rush of panic that surged through her. She’d held that job for the past five years! Sure, it had been dull at times—well, much of the time—but the pay was decent and she had health benefits and an annual one-week paid vacation. For the past year, she’d been able to pay the rent on her apartment in Virginia, just across the district line, without having to take roommates to split the costs.

  Kara enjoyed the privacy but missed the company and the activity provided by other people. She’d always been reserved and introverted, and living with other girls forced her to socialize. But faced with moving in with strangers after her last roommate, a college friend, had married, Kara decided to go it alone. Now she shared her home and her life with her Siamese cat, Tai, who sat on the sofa across the room, watching her with his inscrutable blue eyes.

  Three months ago, on her twenty-sixth birthday, Kara had sat in front of her television set with Tai and had taken stock of her life. She was twenty-six years old, living alone with her cat, her small social circle dwindling as old friends married or left the area, moving on with their lives while hers remained static.

  Day after day, year after year, the same routine, same job—a comfortable quiet way of life, but one that offered no surprises, no change. The years had slipped away and she’d barely noticed. Now she was past twenty-five, entering the bottom half of her twenties and grinding inexorably toward thirty. The big three-oh! She was only four years away from it and she wasn’t even dating anybody! The lonely empty years stretched before her with no man, no children. And now, no job!

  She sadly faced the fact that she was not going to meet Mr. Right. With women greatly outnumbering men in Washington, D.C., eligible bachelors had their choice of outgoing, high-wage-earning beauties. Why would Mr. Right settle for someone like her—a shy office worker, average in every way?

  But some indomitable deeply feminine instinct within her demanded someone to love, to nurture. She had always been one of those little girls who cherished her dolls and prayed for a baby sister or brother. But there had been no siblings, and as she grew older, her dreams were for a child of her own—and a man to father her child, a man she adored, who would love her and their baby. What a wonderful, happy family they would make!

  Tai meowed and jumped down from the couch. Seeking attention, he wound his way around her ankles, his meows growing louder and more demanding, until Kara leaned down to pet the soft fur around his ears.

  “Oh, Tai, what are we go
ing to do?” It hurt to swallow around the huge lump in her throat. Never had her dreams seemed as impossible as at this bleak moment.

  Tai purred loudly, oblivious to her distress, his back arched in ecstasy as she stroked him. Tai was perfectly content with their solitary existence; Kara wished that she were. Loneliness washed over her in waves. The future loomed dark and dismal. In nine months, she would turn twenty-seven, all alone except for her cat.

  The telephone rang, jarring Kara out of her reverie of despair. She was grateful for the diversion, even though it was probably just a telemarketer trying to convince her to buy magazines or something else she didn’t want or need.

  “Kara?” The warm tones of Reverend Will Franklin sounded over the line.

  “Uncle Will!” Kara exclaimed, thrilled to hear his voice.

  “How would you like to come out for a visit, my dear?”

  “Uncle Will, I’d love to, but—”

  “No buts. I have a plane ticket for you. Ginny and the girls and I insist that you come to Montana. Immediately, if possible.”

  * * *

  Standing at the gate in the airport in Helena, Mac glanced at the photograph in his hand for perhaps the hundredth time since Reverend Will had given it to him one week ago. The young woman featured in the photo was Kara Jo Kirby, age twenty-six.

  He had urged the reverend to contact her last week, the day Brick had been discovered hiding in the girls’ locker room with a Polaroid camera. And after chasing Clay around the house trying to apply an anti-itch lotion to his chicken pox spots, Mac had decided that a solid marital unit in which to raise the children was no longer an option to consider sometime in the future, it was an immediate vital necessity.

  Reverend Will was delighted. “I’ve known Kara for years, and I can attest to her trustworthiness and high moral standards.” He grew quiet for a moment. “I suppose I should tell you that I was Kara’s stepfather for nearly five-and-a-half years, from the time she was three until she was past eight. Then her mother divorced me,” he added flatly.