The Bad Luck Wedding Cake (19 page)

Claire had already figured out that where the Menaces were concerned, Tye McBride was a pushover—as undoubtedly the girls had, also—so she wasn’t completely surprised by his next move.

“I want you three to skedaddle up to take your baths and think about it awhile,” he told them. “We’ll discuss it some more after breakfast.” He waved his hand toward the door and said, “Go on.”

Claire rolled her eyes as they darted for freedom. Tye scowled at her, then turned his attention toward Big Jack Bailey, all amusement wiped from his expression. Trepidation shuddered across the rancher’s face as Tye placed a hand on each arm of the chair and leaned forward, lowering his face to within inches of Bailey’s. “Just so you know, Jack, I’ll get to the bottom of this story, and when I do, if I find that you harmed so much as a hair on their beautiful, innocent little heads, I’ll have yours on a platter.”

He drew a knife from his boot and with a quick jerk of his wrist, sliced away the bandage around Bailey’s calf. “Claire, double-check me here, would you? Does that wound look like a rattler’s bite to you?”

Claire had never seen a rattlesnake bite before, but she questioned the absence of swelling in this case. “Those two little holes could have been made with a knife.”

Tye nodded and tossed the bandage in Bailey’s face, then turned away. “Go on, I’m tired of looking at you.”

Bailey huffed a protest that Tye ignored. Once the rancher finally made a show at limping out of the office while he muttered about ungrateful young pups, the McBride Menaces’ uncle slumped into his brother’s desk chair and started to laugh. “Have you ever heard such corral dust in your life?”

Claire couldn’t decide whether to laugh with him or screech at him. “You’re not going to let them get away with it, are you, McBride?”

“I think they’re due a few points for creativity.” She fired a glare at him and he added, “No, I won’t let them get away with it. First I need to find out what really happened. Any guesses, Miss Donovan?”

Claire thought about it a moment, then shrugged. “Except for the fact they obviously needed thirty dollars badly enough to go through the entire spelling bee mischief, I haven’t a clue. Do you?”

“I have my suspicions. It wouldn’t surprise me if this doesn’t have something to do with their matchmaking plans for me and Loretta Davis. The Blessings do get serious when it comes to matchmaking.” He slumped back in his chair. “I’ll find out the truth and dole out a punishment. Later, though. I know I should get it over with, and I intended to. I did. But I’m too tired, Claire. I don’t have the sand for it right now. All my energy was used up being happy they got home safely.”

Claire sank into a chair. Tenderness stole over her as she watched Tye McBride lean his head back against the high-backed chair and close his eyes. He was a good man, a loyal man. A loving uncle. “You’re just a chicken, McBride.”

He cocked open one eye. “Excuse me?”

“It’s true.” She folded her hands primly in her lap and observed, “You’re too chicken to discipline those girls even though you know they need it, and they need it now. That’s why you wanted me to tag along. You knew I’d make certain you finished the job.”

“I did?” His brows furrowed into a scowl.

“Yes. I agree you can take some time to ferret out the truth. They obviously worked a long time on their story, and you’re more liable to catch them off guard at a later time. But the punishment can’t wait. Even if it’s only a small part, you need to do something this morning.”

“Ah, Claire.”

“Don’t ‘ah Claire’ me. There’s no need. You did the right thing by bringing me with you to Willow Hill, Tye, because I’ve thought of the perfect penalty.”

“You have?”

“Yes.” Watching the dread drip across his face, Claire could hold back her smile no longer. Standing, she reached for Tye’s hand and pulled him to his feet. “Come along, McBride. I’ll fill you in on the way upstairs.”

Twenty minutes later Tye stood in front of his freshly bathed nieces and cheerfully swung the punishment stick. “All right, girls. Whatever else transpired, you broke the rules by leaving the house at night, correct?”

They nodded.

“Well, I can’t ignore it. It’s a serious infraction. I’ve given the situation careful consideration, and I have arrived at a decision on how you will be disciplined.”

Kat yanked her thumb from her mouth. “Don’t spank us, Uncle Tye.”

“Please don’t make us work for Sister Gonzaga,” Maribeth pleaded.

Emma clasped her hands in front of her chest. “We haven’t eaten in a long time. If you could give us one good meal before we’re put on bread and water?”

Claire swallowed a snort when Tye folded his arms and spoke in a strong, definitive voice. “There will be no spanking or slaving for the nuns or bread-and-water meals, children.”

“Then what are you going to do?”

“I’m sorry, girls, but I have no other choice. As your punishment, I’m going to tell your father exactly what happened. Every single detail.”

The children gasped as one. “Oh, Em,” Kat said. “You said he wouldn’t do anything bad. This is terrible!”

Emma clapped her hands over Kat’s mouth and repeated in a horrified tone, “You are going to tell Papa?”

Tye nodded solemnly, and Maribeth slowly shook her head. “Call the undertaker, sisters. We’re dead.”

***

FOUR DAYS later the citizens of Fort Worth gathered for an afternoon picnic to celebrate the dedication of Fort Worth’s new fire station. Braving the inevitable stream of women-come-a-courting, Tye attended with the girls. Since the Blessings’ return, the world looked as pretty as a rainbow after a drought-ending storm, and he was happy to be out enjoying it.

The girls were having a high time, too, between the sack races and the taffy pull. Through it all, Tye didn’t let them out of his sight for a minute.

At the moment the task wasn’t difficult because they’d all stopped to eat. While Maribeth and Emma bickered over the last dill pickle, Tye noticed Katrina staring past him, a contemplative look on her face. Twisting his head, he realized his niece was watching Claire, who carried a pitcher of water from blanket to blanket, refilling glasses as needed. After the baker stopped by the McBride’s spot, exchanged pleasantries, and moved on, Kat looked at Tye and asked, “Why does Miss Claire look sad? Is it because her papa took down the pretty window curtains at her bakery?”

“I don’t think she’s sad,” Emma observed, holding her pickle up out of Ralph’s reach. “I think she’s angry.”

Angry?
Tye paused in the midst of taking a bite of fried chicken, his eyes narrowing as they focused on Claire. She didn’t look angry to him. More like depressed. The fight with her family must be wearing on her. Then, because he wondered if Emma saw something he didn’t, he asked, “Why do you say that?”

Emma shrugged and tossed Ralph a piece of meat, then scratched him behind the ears when he climbed up on her lap and whined for more. “She reminds me of Mother.”

Tye almost swallowed a bone.
Mother
, she had said. Not Mama. Jenny was Mama to the girls. Emma was referring to her birth mother, to Constance.
Dear Lord
.

He jerked his head around and fired a look at Claire, who smiled as she refilled Sister Gonzaga’s glass. He searched for signs of wickedness or evil. All he saw was sweetness.

He called forth a picture of Constance from his memory and compared her and Claire. Other than extraordinary beauty, the two women had little in common. What did Emma see? “How does Miss Donovan remind you of your mother, sweetheart?” he asked.

The girl glanced over at Claire. “Her smiles don’t reach her eyes for one thing. But mainly it’s not on the outside. More inside. She’s too quiet. She hardly talked to us earlier. Mother was always quiet like that when she was the most angry. I remember she was angry a lot.”

Damn Constance
. For perhaps the thousandth time, Tye wondered what extent of wickedness the woman had served up to those sweet wee ones.

Tye wouldn’t put anything past Trace’s first wife. Lies, manipulations, and betrayal had been Constance’s stock and trade. Her plot to destroy her own family for the sake of coin and Tye’s stupid foreign title proved she lacked the normal maternal instincts to protect and defend her young. The way she’d lied to pit brother against brother, to drive a wedge of hatred and betrayal between them, showed how truly evil she could be.

Now, looking at his brother’s daughters, Tye speculated about what other secrets may have died with Constance on that awful, bloody afternoon so long ago. What other ways had she abused her children? What other horrible memories might Emma, the eldest, have tucked away; recollections waiting to rear their ugly heads when she grew older?

The complete lack of emotion on Emma’s face when she spoke of Constance McBride made Tye shudder. It wasn’t natural and it filled him with regrets.

Katrina interrupted Tye’s black thoughts when she licked a ring of custard from her mouth and said, “I think we should do something to cheer up Miss Claire. After all, we’d be dead from the gas lamp if not for her, and her muffins make my tummy happy.”

“I think you’re right, Kat,” Maribeth said, feeding the last of her potato salad to Ralph. “And I know just the thing. Let’s invite her to go to the swimming hole with us. You’re still taking us swimming on Saturday, aren’t you, Uncle? You promised, remember?”

Tye had a mental flash of Claire dressed in wet, clinging, minimal clothes. He cleared his throat. “Uh, I remember. But maybe it would be better if y’all came up with another way to cheer up Miss Donovan. She might not even know how to swim.”

Kat shrugged. “I’m sure she does. She grew up on the Gulf, after all.”

To Tye’s relief, Emma shot her sisters a meaningful look and said, “Uncle Tye is right, sisters. Let’s help Miss Donovan later. After all, she has that beautiful Mr. Sundine to cheer her up. First I think we should visit with Miss Loretta. Remember how Maribeth promised her she’d share the secret of her spelling success? Look, sisters, there she is. Why don’t we go say hello?” She jerked her head toward a sprawling oak tree off away from the main body of the picnic, where Loretta Davis stood speaking to her blacksmith beau. Neither one of them appeared too happy.

“But Emma,” Katrina protested. “Think how Miss Donovan helped Uncle Tye look for us. Don’t you think she should be the one we—”

Tye saw Maribeth reach over and pinch her younger sister. He didn’t bother to correct her; he was too busy worrying why the Blessings’ ringleader had brought up Loretta’s name.

He had thought the girls had given up on their matchmaking attempts. Had these recent days been the proverbial lull before the storm? He wasn’t at all ready to jump back into the tempest again. “I don’t think now is the time to approach Miss Davis about anything,” he told his nieces. “It looks like she and Gus are having a private conversation.”

“Not anymore.” Maribeth reattached the ring on Ralph’s collar to the leash tied around a nearby pecan tree. She shook her finger at the dog and said, “Stay.” Then she jerked her thumb over her shoulder. “Miss Loretta is bawling like a lost calf, and I think she needs something to cheer her up.”

Tye grimaced when he looked back and saw the black-smith stomping off toward town. Mari was right Loretta was crying her eyes out.
Well, hell
. He glanced around for signs of her mother or another woman who might offer Loretta a comforting shoulder, but from what he could tell, nobody else noticed the drama taking place beneath the large oak.
Leave it to the Blessings
, he thought with a sigh. “It’s really none of our business, girls, and your apology can wait After all, we—”

“Sure it’s our business, Uncle Tye.” Emma shot her sisters a purposeful look that put all Tye’s suspicions on alert. She reached over and patted his knee. “It’s part of the penance Sister Gonzaga gave us when she stopped us on our way to the bakery yesterday.”

“Penance? What do you mean, penance? You’re not Catholic.”

Maribeth nodded. “She said in our case that didn’t matter, that any penance we did would help us in the long run.”

Try as he might Tye couldn’t make a connection between the Blessings, penance, and the woman currently watering the wildflowers beneath an oak tree. “But what does all that have to do with Miss Davis?”

Emma answered. “We’re supposed to spread kindness and caring wherever we see a need for it.”

“That’s right,” Maribeth concurred. “And if we ignore a need when we see it that counts against us.” Standing, she held out a hand toward Tye as the other girls scrambled to their feet. “Come on, Uncle. Let me help you up. You don’t want our souls to get another black mark, do you?”

Well, what could he say to that? Against his better judgment he followed the girls on their mission of mercy, his attention so focused on what might happen that he only vaguely noticed that Emma remained at their picnic spot long enough to pour iced tea into a pair of glasses.

Katrina haled Loretta Davis first. The young woman spun around, quickly wiping her eyes, and when her gaze flew up to meet Tye’s, an embarrassed flush stained her cheeks. Thank goodness the girls filled the moment with their chatter.

“Hi, Miss Loretta,” Maribeth said. “We’re to help you with your spelling and officially apologize for the tricks we played on you while we were trying to get you to fall in love with our Uncle Tye.”

Clasping her hands to her chest and sighing dramatically, Katrina said, “We were mean and we’re sorry.”

“That’s right Please accept our apology, Miss Loretta. Here, have a drink of tea,” Emma added, shoving one of the glasses she carried into the young woman’s hand. “It will help you feel better.”

Loretta tried to talk, but the girls wouldn’t let her. Instead, they kept encouraging her to drink. When she finally did as directed, Emma turned to Tye with a huge smile on her face. Smoothly she handed him the second glass. “Here, Uncle. Share a drink with Miss Loretta. It’s rude of us to ask her to drink alone. It’s sweet tea. Your favorite.”

Then it was as if a petticoat dust-devil swept across the meadow. In a whirl of motion and chatter, the McBride Menaces departed, leaving Tye and Loretta standing alone.
Well, hell
, he thought, and took a gulp of tea.