The Bad Luck Wedding Dress Read Free

burst through the swinging front doors crying, “Papa, Papa, Papa!”
    Immediately, he tossed down his rag and hurried around the end of the bar. His heart seemed to hang in his throat as he knelt and scooped the child into his arms. “What’s wrong, Kat? Are you hurt? Is it your sisters?”
    “Oh, Papa, it’s simply awful.” Round, shimmering blue eyes gazed at him. “It’s MissFortune!”
    “Misfortune?”
    “Miss Jenny Fortune!”
    Trace’s first reaction was relief, although guilt followed quickly on its heels. Jenny Fortune was a nice enough woman—quiet, plain, and polite. He sincerely hoped nothing terrible had happened to her. The girls would have a fit. “What’s wrong with Miss Fortune?”
    “She’s crying. She’s sitting in her store with that pretty white dress in her lap and she’s bawling like a baby. I’ve never seen Miss Fortune cry, Papa. Something’s wrong with her! Emma says Mama used to cry a lot. What if Miss Fortune is sick? I don’t want Miss Fortune to die, Papa. Not like Mama. Oh, Papa, what are we going to do?”
    Trace’s mouth flattened into a frown as his arms tightened around his daughter. The familiar shame slithered down his spine at the mention of his daughters’ mother, but he determinedly ignored it. He wouldn’t think about Constance. He couldn’t. “I’m sure she’s fine, Katie-cat.”
    “Can you come see, Papa? Please?”
    “Reckon I can.” Standing, he looked toward the doorway and asked, “Are your sisters outside?”
    After a moment’s hesitation, Katrina shook her head. “I’m here by myself.”
    Trace closed his eyes and bit back the caustic, fear-inspired curse hovering on his tongue. “All right, Katrina,” he said with a sigh. “While we’re heading that way, you and I can have a little chat about breaking rules. You know you’re not allowed in this part of town alone. Especially not now.” He shot her a scolding look and asked, “What time is it?”
    Katrina’s lower lip poked out and trembled. “I dunno.”
    “Take a guess.”
    “Umm … noon?”
    “It’s nigh on to three o’clock and I’m certain you’re aware of it. So, tell me when you’re allowed to come into the Acre.”
    “Eleven to one.”
    Trace folded his arms and nodded. The End of the Line was located smack dab in the middle of the Fort Worth district known as Hell’s Half Acre. The area was relatively tame during those hours—after the night folks had cleared out and before the early crowd arrived—and he knew the girls were safe enough visiting his saloon that time of day. Some of the good folk in town wouldn’t agree, but he figured his children were better off with him than with the housekeeper—or alone, now that Mrs. Higgenbothem had thrown in her dust rag.
    Katrina swiped her hand across her face, drying her tears. “I’m sorry, Papa. I’m just so worried.”
    Relenting, he gave her a wink and a smile. “I know, baby. Remember, though, that I have reasons for my rules. As much as you like Miss Fortune, this wasn’t an emergency, and that’s the only excuse I’ll allow.”
    “I don’t just like Miss Fortune, Papa. I love her.”
    “You love licorice.”
    “Miss Fortune’s even better than licorice. Except for you, I love her the mostest.”
    In Katrina’s vernacular, the mostest was saying a lot. Well, hell, Trace thought. That could be trouble. He knew his girls spent some time down in the dressmaker’s shop, but he hadn’t realized they were forming an affection for Miss Fortune. He’d have to put a stop to that. He would not have another woman in their lives to break their hearts when she … disappeared.
    Damn. He shouldn’t have rented that space to a woman. Not to any woman, and especially not that particular woman. Within moments of their first meeting, he’d realized he liked Jenny Fortune. Maybe it was her determination to succeed or perhaps the aura of independence she wore like a crown. Likely it had something to do with her