The Bad Luck Wedding Dress (30 page)

Stepping forward, she spoke to the girls in a voice that brooked no argument. “Go back upstairs, ladies. Your father will be up in a few minutes to say hello.”

“No, I’ll go up now.” Trace stepped away from Tye, his smoldering gaze never leaving his brother’s as his daughters filed past him, curious and concerned expressions on their faces. “My girls come first with me—now and always. I want you gone by the time I get back downstairs.”

Tye straightened the lapels on his jacket. “That’s too damn bad. I’ve been staying here, you know. I’ve been getting to know the girls.”

A muscle worked in Trace’s jaw, and Jenny thought his glare looked lethal.

“I’m going upstairs with my daughters,” Trace said coldly. “Don’t be here when I come down. I’m not the same man I was six years ago. This time, I’ll make sure you’re dead.” With that, he turned and followed the girls up the winding staircase.

For a moment, neither of them moved. Then Jenny reeled on Tye. “What in heaven’s name is going on here? I thought you came here to reconcile with him!”

He wore the sullen look of an angry little boy caught in the middle of wrongdoing.

“Well?” Jenny said when he didn’t respond.

He muttered a curse and raked his fingers through his hair. “He caught me off guard, sneaking in like that. And didn’t you hear him? First time he sees me in six lousy years, all he has to say is, ‘I’d hoped I killed you.’ It touched a nerve. I reacted badly.”

“ ‘Badly’ doesn’t quite say enough.” Jenny heaved a frustrated sigh. “If you two aren’t just alike—bullheaded and hot tempered.”

Tye shrugged.

After a brief moment of thought, Jenny crossed the room to a small secretary where she withdrew a ring of keys from a drawer. Removing one, she said, “This is the key to the apartment above my shop where Trace and the girls lived before we moved into Willow Hill. We’ve left many of the furnishings, so you should be comfortable there until we get this all figured out.”

Tye shook his head. “I’m not leaving, Jenny. One way or the other, Trace and I are having this out.”

“Having what out? What is going on between you two that I don’t understand?”

He opened his mouth, then hesitated. “Maybe you’re right. Trace never did listen worth a darn when he got riled.” He accepted the key she offered and gave her hand a squeeze. “I’ll go, for now. It won’t take me long to pack. I guess it’s probably better to give him a little time to get used to the idea of my having found him.”

When he returned with his bags a few minutes later, Jenny stopped him in the entry hall. “What did you mean ‘found him’?”

At the door, Tye paused and looked over his shoulder. “He ran off, Jenny. Took the girls and disappeared. You can tell him something for me. Tell him it won’t be like last time. Now that I’ve found him, I won’t let him vanish again. He and I have things to settle between us, and I won’t rest until it’s done.”

On that cryptic note, Tye McBride left Willow Hill.

Jenny turned and gazed up the staircase, gripped by both weariness and apprehension. Unwilling to face the ghosts in the parlor, she slowly climbed the stairs. Questions whirled in her mind, piquing her temper. Why was it always questions where her husband was concerned? Would he ever provide answers?

Her head hurt and she slowly tugged the pins from her hair, massaging her scalp as she entered the master bedroom. She recalled the look on her husband’s face when he gazed at his brother, and she shivered. In the space of a heartbeat, she had seen his fear. That frightened her more than any of the bitter words spoken by either man.

What troubles had she invited into their home along with Tye McBride?

“It’s Trace’s fault,” she grumbled, taking a seat at her vanity and unwinding her braid. “If he hadn’t been so secretive about everything, I’d have known what to do.”

Lifting her hairbrush, she gazed into the mirror and saw in her features a reflection of the fear in her husband’s eyes. When he entered their room a few minutes later, she’d reached a decision.

She’d ask her questions and have her answers. Tonight. No matter what.

But she was too slow and Trace asked first. “Why, Jenny? Why did you let him into the house?”

She twisted in her seat to look at him. “What reason did I have not to welcome him to Willow Hill? None that I know of, certainly. I think I’m the one who needs to ask the questions. Why did you never tell me about your brother, your twin brother?”

He didn’t answer. Turning away, he stripped off his tie and jacket and pitched them to the floor. Yanking at his buttons, he opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again. Still, he didn’t speak.

“What?” Jenny asked. “You obviously have something on your mind, and I seriously doubt it’s an answer to anything I asked. What is it?”

The question seemed to burst from his mouth. “Did you bed down with him?”

For a long moment, Jenny was speechless. How could he even think such a thing, much less say it? She pushed from her chair and advanced on him, the heat of her anger drying her tears in an instant. “Blast you, McBride! If you’re not the biggest fool in Texas, then I shudder to think who is. Did I sleep with him? Arrgh!” She hit him with her hairbrush. “Stupid, stupid, stupid.”

He grabbed the brush from her hand and tossed it on the bed.

“What is wrong with you, anyway?” she continued. “Didn’t we have a similar discussion right before you left town? Did you leave your brain in Hill County? You make me want to scream!”

Jenny paced the room, waving her arms. “He’s your
brother
. Why wouldn’t I welcome him to your house? You’ve never told me any reason not to. You never even told me the man existed, for that matter.” She stopped in front of him and declared, “I’ve given you no reason to be jealous, Trace McBride. No reason to be suspicious. I’m not a faithless woman and you know that. I vowed to love and honor you, to be faithful to you. I’m your wife.” She thumped her chest with her fist. “Your
wife
.”

He snorted, and she considered hitting him again. “And Tye is your brother, for goodness’ sake. Why would you walk into a room and see us drinking cups of hot cocoa and immediately assume we were involved in something illicit?”

“Because it happened before!” He swept up her hairbrush and threw it across the room where it smashed against the wall and fell in two pieces. “My
faithful
wife and my
devoted
brother were lovers.”

Jenny stood paralyzed in the center of the room. Of course! She should have seen it before. All the clues had been there.

Trace approached her, his smile bitter. “I don’t know how long it had gone on. Months, maybe. Once I discovered the truth—” his fists clenched repeatedly at his sides, “I killed her.”

A painful knot tightened in Jenny’s chest. “Oh, Trace.”

“I came close to killing him, too,” he said, a far-off look in his eyes. “The punch I threw knocked him against the fireplace.”

He slowly shook his head. “God, so much blood in that room. Like the war all over again. He lay still as a corpse—still as Constance—and I died right along with him.” He fell silent, his expression ravaged at the memory.

Her heart ached for him; her arms yearned to hold him. But Trace held himself separate, alone, and she sensed he would not welcome her touch. Moisture stung her eyes. “You thought he was dead until tonight?”

“No. Once I figured out he was breathing, that the blood on him was Constance’s, I left.”

“He told me you vanished.”

Trace loosed a shuddering breath. “I thought my family was safe. After all this time, I quit looking over my shoulder. I thought we could have a real life.”

Jenny could bear it no more. She went to him, clasped his arm. “Is the law after you?”

His brows arched in surprise. “The law? Why—oh, I see what you’re thinking. Murder.” He chuckled humorlessly. “No, I kept tabs on that. They ruled the shooting accidental because I was struggling with Constance when the gun went off.”

“Then why—”

“Why are we not safe?” His expression turned to granite and his voice went hoarse. “Because of him. Because of that goddamn bastard brother of mine. I won’t let him have her. We’ll run again, only this time we’ll go so fast and so far he’ll never find us.”

“What are you talking about?”

He squared his shoulders. “You don’t have to come with us, of course. Fort Worth is your home.” A thread of steel entered his voice. “But I won’t let him take Katrina. I can’t kill him. I already tried that, and I couldn’t do it right. Our only choice is to run.”

He actually thought he could leave her behind? The fool. The silly fool. Jenny clutched his shirtsleeves and shook him. “What do you mean, you won’t let him have Katrina? What does Katrina have to do with all this?”

“She has everything to do with this!” he said through his teeth. “She’s the reason it all happened. He wants to take her from me.”

“How could he do that?”

His eyes grew stormy, turbulent, and gleamed with a sheen of tears. His anguished voice broke as he answered. “She’s his, treasure. I’m not her father. Katrina is my brother’s daughter.”

A new penny brings good luck
.

CHAPTER 17

AT THE END OF a near sleepless night Jenny awoke to a day dawned blustery and cold. Over her objections, Trace saddled up Ranger and left Willow Hill at first light, headed for the Acre to see a man who had connections in Mexico.

Jenny felt torn. Although she had assured her husband she’d follow him to the ends of the earth if need be, she’d argued against their leaving Fort Worth. She’d repeated Tye’s statement that he’d find them should they attempt to flee. Trace had brushed off the warning, but Jenny wasn’t convinced. She had observed the determination in his brother’s eyes.

For all the secrets he’d kept since showing up in her backyard, Tye didn’t strike her as the villain Trace painted him to be. She’d lain awake most of the night reflecting on the man’s behavior during his visit, and she’d reached a number of conclusions.

Tye would not attempt to separate the girls, for one thing. He’d displayed affection toward all the children— not just Katrina. Secondly, she still believed Tye meant what he said when he claimed to want a reconciliation with Trace. Surely, if he wanted to heal the rift between them, he wouldn’t be planning to rip Katrina from the bosom of the only family she’d ever known.

Trace was reacting to a threat that, in Jenny’s opinion, didn’t exist. He had refused to listen to any of her arguments, and by forbidding her to see his brother again, he’d made it easy for her to go visit Tye. She would give up most everything for the man she loved—she’d run to Mexico, if need be—but she would never abdicate her independence.

The day she allowed him to dictate who she could and could not see, who she could or could not talk to, would be the day she lost herself. She loved being Mrs. Trace McBride, but a part of her—that deepest, most basic part of her soul—would always be Jenny Fortune.

And Jenny Fortune decided to speak with Tye McBride.

She was buttoning her shoes when she heard a knock at her bedroom door. “Yes?”

The door cracked open, revealing Emma’s worried frown. “Mama, can I talk to you for a minute?”

Jenny nodded. “Certainly, as long as you’re quick about it. I don’t want you late for school.”

Emma shut the door behind her, then stood shuffling, gazing at her feet, her hands clasped behind her back. Jenny waited expectantly, then finally said, “Emma?”

The girl’s head came up. Her eyes shone with guilt. She said in a rush, “Last night I was in the passageway rigging Mari’s ghost and I heard you and Papa talking about Katrina. I knew I had to tell you, because last time I didn’t, and all the bad things were my fault. I’m sorry I eavesdropped, Mama, and I promise to never, ever do it again. Please don’t be mad at me!”

Jenny grimaced and closed her eyes in misery. Did she understand what Emma was saying? She’d overheard the truth of Katrina’s parentage? This wasn’t good. Not good at all. Katrina mustn’t hear this news prematurely, and a secret of this magnitude should not be borne by a twelve-year-old. “Blast those hidden passages anyway,” she mumbled.

“I’m sorry, Mama.” Tears slipped down her face. “So sorry. Please don’t be mad.”

Compassion flared in Jenny’s heart and she gave the girl a hug. “I’m not mad, darling, just worried. Now, you must promise not to say anything to your sisters about this. I have to think about what to do. It’s getting late. You need to run on to school.”

Her voice trailed off as she added, “I have to go somewhere myself.”

Emma’s tears didn’t stop, and Jenny was at a loss as to how to deal with them. She was new at this mothering; she’d so much to learn. And a problem of this magnitude— a crack in the very foundation of her family—was more than she knew how to manage. “Your father will talk to you about this later, Emma. Go to school and try not to worry too much, all right?”

Jenny spoke to herself as much as to Emma. Trace would have to solve the problem of what their daughter had overheard. She planned to devote herself to avoiding a move to Mexico.

Donning a cloak, Jenny went downstairs to the kitchen. Trace had asked her to give Mrs. Wilson the day off, and she decided to accede to his wishes on this point. Only this point.

The housekeeper happily accepted the unexpected holiday and promised to see the girls off to school before leaving for the day.

A chilly wind whipped at her hem as Jenny walked toward the center of town. Her stomach turned as she passed a small cafe, and the aroma of frying bacon and eggs swirled around her. She swallowed hard against the nausea and hurried on, concentrating on the arguments she intended to present to Tye.

First she would ask if what Trace had told her was true. She didn’t want to believe that Tye had, in fact, betrayed his brother in such a fundamental way.

As she approached the building she noticed a light in the window above her shop. Good. Luck was with her in that he’d come here and not gone to a hotel. She didn’t have time to check all the hotels in Fort Worth for a missing brother-in-law.

The front door to Trace’s old quarters was locked and Jenny rapped loudly on the glass, calling, “Tye? Tye McBride? I need to talk to you.” She waited, and the hair on the back of her neck slowly prickled.

It’s the cold air, she told herself as she glanced over first one shoulder, then the other.

She banged on the door again. “Tye? It’s Jenny. Open up, please.”

She heard a noise from inside, then the thud of boot- steps descending the stairs. She opened her mouth to sound a greeting when she suddenly sensed the figure approaching from behind. Before she could turn around a hand gripped her upper arm, and the cold, hard barrel of a gun pressed against her side.

“Careful now, missy, or I’ll blow a hole in both you and your husband right here.”

Jenny’s blood ran cold. Big Jack Bailey.
Dear Lord, not again
.

The door swung open and Tye stood on the other side. Bailey said, “Good morning, there, McBride. You shouldn’t be letting your wife run around without a key. Never know when somebody might get the jump on her.”

Tye’s eyes narrowed. “Who are you? What do you want?”

Bailey gave an evil smile. “Who am I? Come now, McBride, don’t play the fool.”

Jenny licked her lips and said, “He’s not Trace, Mr. Bailey. You’re making a mistake. This is my husband’s twin brother. You have no quarrel with him. You can let him go.”

“Do you think I’m stupid or something, Dressmaker?” Bailey asked, the gun barrel digging into her side. “Come along, now. I have a wagon waiting in the alley, and the three of us are gonna walk nice and peaceful-like around back.”

“Why don’t we go upstairs and discuss this problem,” Tye suggested casually, eyeing the gun. “I’m in the middle of eating breakfast, and you’re welcome to share.”

“Nope. I’ve a job for you to do. Afterward, we’re gonna return to the scene of your crime for a few questions and answers.”

“Crime? What crime?” Tye gave Jenny a sharp, curious look.

She ignored him, all her attention centered on Big Jack Bailey. He can’t know, she told herself. He might suspect the truth, but unless she confirmed his suspicions, surely he wouldn’t hurt her.

Or would he? Jenny gave Bailey a sidelong glance and remembered the dressmaker dummy hanging from her porch.

Bailey motioned for them to move. “Come along, now. Daylight’s a’wastin’. The four of us are taking a cozy little ride.”

“Four of us?” Jenny asked quickly, her first thought of the girls.
Please let all of them be safe
.

They rounded the corner of the building, and she spotted a wagon with a tarpaulin covering the back. Bailey gestured with the gun. “You, me, your husband, and my boy. Damned sheriff buried him at Pioneer’s Rest and I had to pay the mortuary to dig him back up. Frank needs to be at home at the Lucky Lady, and since you killed him, I figured you should do the burying.”

“Jenny?” Tye asked.

She glanced at him and shook her head, not knowing exactly what she was denying. Silently cursing Big Jack’s twisted logic, she closed her eyes and shuddered at the idea of traveling with Frank Bailey’s body.

Big Jack told Tye to drive. He sat Jenny between them, his gun never leaving her side. “Take Throckmorton down to Fourteenth and head west,” he said. “Just keep in mind that your wife will pay if you do anything to attract attention.”

Bailey smiled and nodded to the people they passed. Jenny held her breath when Wilhemina Peters called out for them to stop. Bailey muttered to Tye to keep on going, then hollered back, “Don’t have time, now, ma’am. Nice hat you’re wearing today.”

Once the wagon was away from town, Bailey climbed into the back and sat on the tarp-draped coffin. He shifted his gun from Jenny, to Tye, then back to Jenny again. “You know, McBride. You should have known better than to marry her.”

His evil chuckle sent shivers up Jenny’s spine as he added, “Good Luck Wedding Dress, my ass.”

TRACE WALKED into Willow Hill with five train tickets to Galveston in his vest pocket and a satchel full of money in his hand. He’d tried his damndest to shut down his emotions, but entering this house knowing he’d be leaving it all too soon was a boot to the gut.

“Jenny,” he called, pausing a moment to listen for her reply. Silence. He frowned and checked his pocket watch. Three hours yet before the girls finished school. He’d have thought she’d be here sorting and packing things to take with them. “I bet she’s gone to the shop,” he murmured, inspecting the kitchen. A conscientious woman like Jenny would want to clear off her books before leaving town. She wasn’t the type to leave her customers high and dry.

He glanced down the hall toward his office. He didn’t like abandoning his clients either, but a man had to put his family first. At least the timing of this was good. He’d made arrangements this morning to put the house up for sale, and the agent had advanced him a nice amount of cash. At least this time when the McBrides fled a town, they’d do so with a little money in their pocket.

He found the note in his bedroom telling him she’d gone to the Rankin Building on an errand. Sure enough, he was right. She’d probably bring home half of Fortune’s Design’s fabric inventory with her.

He spent the next hours packing and trying to come up with a good explanation to give the girls for their abrupt departure. The entire time, he was conscious of his wife’s absence and a niggling unease prodded his spine.

Had Jenny changed her mind and decided not to go? Maybe so, but she’d tell him straight to his face. It wasn’t like her to dodge issues of any sort.

By the time his daughters arrived home from school, he had everyone’s bags ready to go. He told his children the lie he’d concocted about a holiday, hoping to make their departure from Fort Worth a little easier to manage.

With everything ready and the train due to leave in less than an hour, he said, “I’m going to make a quick run down to your mother’s dress shop. She must have gotten tied up with a customer and lost track of time.”

Excited about the upcoming journey, the girls failed to notice his concern. He added a warning before leaving the house. “If she gets here before I come back, don’t let her out of your sights, all right?”

“Sure, Papa,” they agreed.

His unease grew all the way to town. He found Fortune’s Design locked up tight with the closed sign hanging in the window. It didn’t look as if she’d been there all day. Then he noticed the light burning in a window upstairs. Why would anyone be upstairs? Jenny had the only key other than his own. What would she be doing …
Tye
.

Anger surged through him. If she’d gone to Tye he’d kill them both. He tested the door and found it unlocked. Then he bounded upstairs.

He recognized the pair of revolvers slung over the back of a chair, and his gaze swung immediately toward his old bedroom. He started down the hall. He heard her voice in his mind.
Trust me, Trace
.

He was trying. Good Lord, he was trying.

He approached the bedroom door, his emotions a mixture of confidence and fear. Taking a deep breath, he stepped inside.

Relief washed over him like flood waters in spring. The room was empty but for an unmade bed and a man’s clothes scattered haphazardly across the room. Tye never had learned to pick his britches up off the floor.

Just to be thorough, Trace checked the loft and wandered through the other rooms, pausing at the mess in the kitchen and the plate of flapjacks half eaten. He didn’t like the look of that. Tye McBride might not pick up his clothes, but he never left a plate of pancakes half eaten. What was going on here? Where was his brother?

More importantly, where was his wife?

The name he’d done his best not to think about rose like a demon in his mind. Big Jack Bailey.

In his heart, he knew. Trace ran for the marshal’s office.
Take care of her, Tye. Please, keep her safe.

“THIS IS the prettiest spot on the entire ranch.” Pride rang in Big Jack Bailey’s voice as the wagon rolled to a stop atop an evergreen-dotted bluff overlooking the Trinity River valley.

Tye spied the iron fence that surrounded a small plot of land. Inside the rails, two monuments stood side by side, and he concluded that this was the family cemetery.

Bailey confirmed his suspicions by saying, “That’s my Lilah Mae’s resting place. The son she died aborning is laid next to her.” He cleared his throat, then jumped from the wagon. “I want Frank on the other side of his mother.” From beneath the tarpaulin, he removed two shovels. Tossing them to the ground, he used his gun to wave Tye down from the wagon. “Here you go, McBride. One for you and one for the little lady.”

Tye scowled. “I’ll dig your grave, Bailey. There’s no call for Jenny to be doing that type of work.”

“Nope.” Big Jack shook his head. “She works too. Hell, I wanted her to dig it by herself, but I figured we’d be here till Christmas if I made her do it alone. I don’t have the time to waste; I’m needed in New Orleans. My daughter has recently delivered me a grandson, and I aim to make certain he is raised right. With his daddy’s family connections, that boy’ll be in the White House one day. Now, daylight’s a’wastin’.”