The Bad Luck Wedding Dress (The Bad Luck Wedding series)

by Geralyn Dawson

  “Constance West was the most beautiful girl in South Carolina.”

  Ouch, Suddenly, Jenny didn’t want to hear any more. Unaware of her change of heart, Tye continued, “She had a flawless complexion and thick auburn hair with streaks of red that shot fire in the sunlight. Big brown eyes a man could drown in. Once she set her cap for Trace, he didn’t stand a chance.”

  Jenny’s sour stomach returned as he spoke, and she knew it had little to do with her pregnancy. Jealousy was bad for a person’s constitution.

  “Constance had a way about her. Fire and ice, heaven and hell, all rolled into one. She knew just how to look at a man to make him—” Tye shrugged and laid his spoon down hard. “Trace is right not to talk about her. Believe me, Emma, Maribeth, and Katrina are better off not knowing about Constance.”

  “But she was their mother,” Jenny protested. “They should know that she wanted them and cared for them. That she loved them.”

  He pushed his chair back from the table and stood to pace the room. “Trace won’t lie to them, and you shouldn’t either. Constance didn’t love her daughters.” Disgust laced his voice as he roughly declared, “Constance didn’t love anybody but herself.”

  Jenny sat back in her chair. Tye McBride was a mirror image of her husband, right down to the pain flaring in his eyes. Was what he claimed true? And what about what he wasn’t saying? What had happened to cause such a rift between the brothers? Why had Trace never mentioned Tye? Did it have something to do with Constance?

  Jenny wanted answers. Trace had acted the jealous fool because of the “demons” in his past. Unless she was completely mistaken, one of those “demons” just stepped on a jack Katrina had left lying on the kitchen floor.

  Tye sat in his chair and propped his leg over the opposite knee. As he yanked the metal toy from the sole of his boot, Jenny said impulsively, “You were wrong outside.”

  He turned his head and gave her a questioning look.

  “Trace hasn’t told me about you. In fact, I didn’t know he had a brother.”

  Tye smiled crookedly and spun the jack on the table- top. “That’s more the way I figured it, to be honest. Last time I saw him he said he was severing all ties between us. Trace has always been a man of his word.”

  Jenny watched the toy smoothly whirl. After a moment it hit a cookie crumb and bounced, flying out of control until it fell from the table. A marriage could be like that, she thought. “Why are you here, then? To cause trouble?”

  He scooped the jack up off the floor and tossed it from hand to hand. Then he caught it and held it trapped in his palm, his gaze capturing hers just as effectively. “No, I haven’t come to Texas to cause trouble. I’ve come to make amends. Will you help me? Or will you stand in my way?”

  “Trace won’t be home for a week or two.”

  “That’ll give me time to get to know my nieces again. And Katrina, of course. She was just a baby when Trace left South Carolina.”

  Slowly, Jenny finished her cookie. She suspected Trace wouldn’t like her giving Tye access to his children and she told his brother as much.

  “Listen, Jenny,” Tye said, leaning forward and speaking intently. “Those three little girls are my family. That word means a lot to me, and to Trace too, no matter what he says otherwise. I don’t want to hurt them in any way, but I believe they deserve to know the McBride family— all of it. Not just me, but their great-grandmother and aunts. Trace was wrong to take that away from them. He was wrong about many things. He’s had them to himself long enough. It’s time for him to share.”

  She didn’t like the sound of that. She opened her mouth intending to tell him when a child’s scream pierced the sky. “Maribeth!” Jenny gasped.

  Tye was out the door in a flash, Jenny right on his heels.

  Katrina stood below the spreading branches of the huge pecan tree that stood halfway down the hill. Emma was running toward the house, hollering, “Mama, help,” as Tye and Jenny hurried toward them.

  “Mari’s in the tree,” the eldest girl cried. “She slipped and her leg is stuck. She’s hanging upside down.”

  Tye stripped off his coat. He tugged off his boots and raced to the base of the tree. Grasping a low-hanging limb, he swung himself up. “I’m coming, sweetheart,” he said.

  “Hurry, Papa!” Katrina called, before grabbing Jenny’s skirt and burying her face to hide her eyes.

  Jenny’s chest hurt from running. Maribeth’s pigtails dangled straight toward the ground, and Jenny prayed the girl’s head wouldn’t plunge in the same direction. “Where’s Bart?”

  “We just played a tiny little trick. He’ll figure it out soon, and it didn’t do anything to hurt the dress he carried, Mama.”

  Jenny closed her eyes.

  “Here we go,” Tye said, wrapping his legs around a branch and reaching toward Maribeth. “Don’t fight me now. I’m going to lift you toward me, and when you can, I want you to grab my neck. All right, Maribeth?”

  “Y-y-yes.”

  Maribeth sounded as if she was in pain. Jenny wanted to cry herself. What if she’d wrenched her knee? What if she’d broken her leg? What if Thackery McBride had not been here to help?

  Jenny breathed a sigh of relief as Maribeth’s arms wrapped around her uncle’s neck. Swiftly, but carefully, he descended the tree. Upon reaching the ground, he asked, “Mari, do you want me to set you down? Do you think you can stand?”

  She nodded, and he lowered her feet to the ground, supporting her weight until she tested her leg. “I’m fine,” she said, shaking off his touch and stepping close to Jenny. “Thank you very much for rescuing me.”

  Tye took a gentlemanly bow.

  “Mari,” Katrina said, her brow wrinkled in confusion. “Why are you talking like that to Papa?”

  “That’s not our Papa,” Emma said, her hands clasped in front of her.

  Tye grinned. “You’re quicker than your mama. She had to kiss me first to figure it out.”

  Emma glanced at Jenny, then back at Tye. “I remember you. You’re Papa’s brother.”

  Maribeth glanced at her sister sharply. “You never told us Papa has a brother.”

  “I forgot.”

  Jenny suddenly needed to sit down. “My goodness, my knees are shaking. Maribeth McBride, you scared me half to death. What were you doing up in that tree?”

  “I was just climbing. The tree called to me today.” She dipped her chin. “I’m sorry, Mama. I didn’t mean to get stuck.”

  Jenny lifted her face toward the sky and sighed. “You never go looking for trouble, but somehow that never stops it from finding you.” Beneath her breath, she added, “Unlike Bart Rogers.” He might be the best hired gun in the state, but he was lousy at managing Menaces.

  “I’m starving,” Katrina said, her eyes round as she stared at Tye McBride. “What did Mrs. Wilson make us today, Mama?”

  “Cookies.”

  “I love cookies the mostest.”

  “I shouldn’t let you have any.”

  “But you will, won’t you?”

  “Yes.” Jenny shooed the girls toward the house, then gestured for Tye to join them.

  Katrina glanced back over her shoulder as she walked. She plopped her thumb in her mouth, then spoke around it, her voice drifting clear as a bell to the adults who followed behind them. “He looks ‘xactly like Papa. Am I suppose to love him?”

  Jenny witnessed the effect the little girl’s words had upon the man. Stark pain summed it up best and gave Jenny something to think about as she placed cookies on plates and fixed glasses of milk for her daughters.

  Tye didn’t join them at the table. Instead, he paused by the kitchen door and leaned against the jamb. Jenny watched him watching the girls as they washed up, his gaze all but drinking them in. He loves them, she thought. He apparently hasn’t seen them in years, but he loves them no matter what.

  Jenny smiled and said, “Girls, I’m afraid we have gotten things a bit backward here, but I believe introductions are i
n order.”

  “We don’t need an introduction,” Tye said, pushing away from the wall and approaching the girls. “I’d know these young ladies anywhere. Look at how big you’ve grown. And so beautiful. Emma and Maribeth, you look so much like your mother.” He squatted down in front of Katrina whose eyes were round as a barn owl’s. “Hello, Katrina.”

  She shuffled close to Emma as he reached out and gently touched her cheek. “Now you look just like your Aunt Penny, and she still wins the beauty contest at the county fair every summer. I knew the first time I saw you that you’d have the look of a McBride. You’re just like I’ve dreamed.” Shaking himself, he stood and backed away. “All of you. Just as pretty as I’ve imagined.”

  As Jenny would have suspected, Emma and Katrina beamed. Maribeth eyed him skeptically, then asked for a ginger cookie.

  Tye McBride spent the next half hour charming the girls with stories of their family and censored versions of their father’s youthful escapades.

  “You were with him when he stole that pig?” Maribeth asked, shaking her head in wonder. “Why didn’t Papa ever tell us that?” She looked at Jenny. “Why, Mama?”

  Jenny lifted her shoulders. “I don’t know, honey. You’ll have to ask him that yourself when he comes home. In the meantime, I do believe it is time for you all to get to your homework.”

  “But Ma-ma!” they protested.

  She waved her hand. “Shoo.”

  Katrina paused at the doorway, a milk mustache dotting her upper lip, and asked, “Uncle Tye, will you be here when we get done? Are you going to stay with us?”

  He sat back in his chair, arms folded, and gave Jenny a questioning look. “Well, angel, that depends on your mother.”

  “Nothing like putting me on the spot,” she grumbled beneath her breath.

  He arched one brow, looking so much like Trace that Jenny blinked and looked a second time.

  “Please, Mama?” Maribeth asked. “I want to show him the secret passageways. Maybe he can help me find the hidden doors Papa hasn’t shown me yet.”

  Trace wouldn’t like it; she could feel it in her bones. But Tye had come all this way. He’d saved Maribeth from what could have been a serious accident. And, he was right about family. The girls should know their great-grandmother and aunts. Hadn’t she yearned her entire life for the type of extended family this man was offering her daughters?

  But most of all, Tye McBride’s presence in the house might provide answers to some of the questions Trace refused to deal with. She’d already learned a little about Constance and she wanted to know more. The more information she possessed, the better she could battle Trace McBride.

  Because it was a war. He’d proven that the day before he left when he doubted her. She was engaged in a down-and-dirty, no-holds-barred fight for her husband’s love, and she had every intention of coming out the victor.

  “Do you have bags with you, Tye? I’ll put you in the green room. Girls, since you are headed upstairs now, you may show him the way.”

  “Thank you, ma’am,” he said with a nod, satisfaction gleaming in his eyes.

  She lowered her voice to where the girls couldn’t hear and added, “Allow me to state a warning. If you cause me one moment’s worth of trouble, I’ll show you the door myself.”

  “Fair enough,” he said with a grin.

  He rose from his chair to follow the girls when Jenny stopped him with a hand on his arm. “One more thing. You say Trace has severed all ties. What, in your opinion, will my husband do when he returns to find you in his home?”

  “It’s been six years.” He glanced away as if looking into the past, then back at her. “Our grandmother seems to believe he’ll be ready to listen to what I have to say.”

  “And what do you think?”

  He shrugged. “Time will tell, Jenny. Time will tell.”

  She was still thinking about his answer a few minutes later when Bart Rogers marched into the kitchen, threw down Mrs. Howell’s dress, and quit.

  Jenny was glad to see him go. He had no excuse for using the words he did to describe her daughters. No excuse at all.

  She poured another cup of tea. Sipping it, she considered how nicely problems worked out sometimes. Considering Bart Rogers had left them in the lurch, Trace would be so relieved when he arrived home to find his brother at Willow Hill.

  NEW ORLEANS, LOUISIANA

  BIG JACK Bailey descended the stairs of Mary Rose’s fancy town mansion and smiled with satisfaction. His baby girl had done good, damned good, even if she had married out- of-state blood. He’d known his son-in-law Stephen came from money, but until he caught a glimpse of his home, he hadn’t realized how much. Gilt mirrors and crystal chandeliers, carpets that cost more than a section of Texas ranchland. Silver everywhere a fellow looked.

  Jack detoured to Stephen’s library and the Cuban cigars kept in a teak box atop the desk. Removing one, he slid it along his upper lip, inhaling the scent with pleasure. After twirling it between his fingers, he opened his jacket and tucked it into an inside pocket. Someone cleared his throat and Jack turned. His son-in-law and a stranger stood in the doorway.

  “Afternoon, Steve,” he said, not the least bit embarrassed at having been caught swiping a smoke. “I’ve just come from upstairs and a visit with Mary Rose and the baby. Fine-lookin’ little boy we got. He’s Bailey through to the bone. Now, have you had any luck in discovering who sent me that fake telegram?”

  The young man shook his head. “Not yet. I’ll be truthful with you, sir. With the baby coming early and then the trouble Mary Rose went through, it’s not been my first priority.”

  “Well, get on with it, boy. We need to know. I want a piece of that fool’s hide whoever he is. I was plumb scared to death about Mary Rose, as were her sisters. Whoever would do such a wicked thing should be shot, and I might just do it myself. Find out who did it, Steve. I hate being in the dark about anything.” At that, Stephen and the stranger shared a look, causing Big Jack to scowl. Something was going on. “You gonna introduce me to your friend?”

  His son-in-law spoke with obvious reluctance. “Allow me to introduce Bernard Scott. He has a brother who is a lawman back in Fort Worth.”

  Big Jack’s brows lifted. “Scott? You talking about ol’ Rufus?” At the man’s nod, Big Jack observed, “It’s a small world, ain’t it.”

  Scott stepped forward. “It’s a hard world, sir. I’ve just returned from a visit to Fort Worth, in fact.” He took a deep breath, then continued, “I’m afraid I have some bad news for you, sir. Terrible news. You might want to take a seat.”

  Bailey grimaced and looked away. He shoved his hands in his pockets. “Why?”

  Scott appeared to brace himself before speaking. “Mr. Bailey, I’m afraid your son Frank has met with an untimely death.”

  Big Jack heard a roaring in his ears and the room began to spin. “You want to repeat that, boy?”

  “The marshal had the doctor examine your son’s body. He’s pretty sure it was venom from a sting of some sort— likely a vinegarroon scorpion. I’m very sorry, Mr. Bailey. You have my condolences.”

  Frank dead. His mouth cotton-dry, Big Jack worked to form his words. “What… where? Where did it happen?”

  “At your old home.”

  Big Jack sucked in a breath. Sonofabitch. That’s just where he’d have taken that goddamned dressmaker. “Was she with him?”

  “She?”

  “The dressmaker! Frank was to take care of her.”

  “If your son was somehow involved with a lady when he died, my brother never mentioned it.”

  Oh, he’d been involved all right, and somehow that goddamned dressmaker had turned the tables on his Frank. His only son.

  It hit him then. Grief and rage and fury and anguish packed a punch that knocked his knees right out from under him. As he sank slowly to the floor, he seized upon one thought like a lifeline.

  The woman. That goddamned bad-luck Jenny Fortune.

  She was
going to pay.

  “PLEASE, EMMIE!” Maribeth begged. “Papa said there are five different entrances to the secret passageway and I’ve only found four. Uncle Tye showed me one, but he says I have to find the last one by myself. I’ve looked and looked and looked, but I can’t find it. Please, Emmie? Uncle Tye says you knew the passage at the old house like the back of your hand. You could find this one for me. I’m certain of it.”

  “No, Maribeth.” Emma looked up from the book she was reading. “I’ve told you before. I don’t want to go inside those tunnels. They’re creepy and I don’t like them.”

  Maribeth put her hands on her hips. “How do you know? You haven’t gone inside Willow Hill’s secret passages once. How do you know you don’t like them?”

  “I just know.”

  “You’re just chicken.”

  Emma tossed her head and returned her gaze to her book. Maribeth put her hands in her armpits and flapped her arms, squawking, “Bawk-bawk-bawk. Bawk-bawk’ bawk.”

  “Stop it.” Emma slammed her book shut. She’d tolerate a lot from her sister, but being called chicken wasn’t one of them. “Just because I think before doing something doesn’t mean I’m not brave. It means I’m not stupid. I’d never climb a tree after pecans that weren’t ready to fall, Maribeth. They’re not good eating. It’d be stupid to go after them if you can’t eat them.”

  Maribeth’s eyes blazed. “Don’t you be calling me stupid. I never said I was after pecans. You’re just saying that because you’re trying to make me forget that you’re too much a ‘fraidy cat to go into my secret passageway.”

  “It’s not your secret passageway.”

  Maribeth shrugged. “Might as well be. I’m the only one who goes inside.”

  “That’s what you think.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “What about the ghost?”

  “Ghost? There’s no such thing. Besides, this is a brand- new house. We don’t have any ghosts.”

  Emma lifted her chin and lied. “But this hill used to be a graveyard. Papa only told me because he knew you’d be scared.”