Read Online The Bad Luck Wedding Dress by Geralyn Dawson - Free Book Online

flabbergasted. As the father of the McBride Menaces, he’d listened to more than his share of nonsense. This bit, however, blew the meringue right off the pie. “I never stole horses from any nuns!”
    “You swiped a pig from a preacher,” Maribeth noted matter-of-factly.
    Katrina nodded quickly and took her thumb from her mouth long enough to add, “Horses are easier to catch than pigs, Papa. We decided. They don’t make bridles for pigs.”
    Bridles for pigs. What he needed were bridles for three young girls. Trace hung his head, rubbing the bridge of his nose with thumb and forefinger. He’d never have guessed that repeating the tales of his youthful escapades could cause this much trouble. Those stories had become one of the little rituals between them as they traveled. The girls had always begged for stories, and once they wore out the pages of the storybook he’d carried from home, he’d taken to repeating instances of his past.
    Besides, he’d missed his family something fierce. His brother’s name flashed in his mind and he corrected himself. He’d missed most of his family, not all of it. Talking about them to the girls had sometimes helped to dull the ache. He never guessed they would mimic his mischief. Why, none of his sisters would ever have dreamed of tagging along on one of the boys’ escapades; they wouldn’t have wanted to get their dainty little hands dirty.
    Of course, Grandmother would have nagged them silly if they had. After the death of her eldest son and his wife in a carriage accident, Mirabelle McBride’s main goal in life appeared to have been teaching her granddaughters how to be prissy. He and Tye had often complained….
    Trace set his jaw, furious at the thought. That was twice within the span of a minute the name had popped into his mind. It had to stop. His brother was dead to him, had been since that bloody night in Charleston. He wouldn’t allow him into his thoughts.
    If I can’t bury him for real, I can at least bury him in my mind .
    So done, Trace lifted his gaze and studied his girls, one after the other. Only on Emma’s face did he see any evidence at all of prissy. Did they need it? Was it important? He scowled. So what if his grandmother had spent so much time on it? His girls would be all right without it. Surely. He didn’t necessarily like that feminine trait anyway.
    Trace felt better until he recalled that every last one of his prissy sisters had grown up to marry well and happily.
    “What are you going to do to us, Papa?” Maribeth asked, portraying her normal impatience.
    Angrier now and not certain why, Trace’s glower deepened. Not a one of the girls appeared the least bit repentant for their actions. Apprehensive, yes. As well they should be. They had to know their punishment would be severe for this particular prank.
    But damn, he hated to do it. Sure as shootin’, they would turn those puppy-dog eyes his way and make him feel even worse than he already did. It happened that way every time, and nothing could get to him quicker. If they had a mother—
    Damn. I won’t think that way. I won’t.
    “What am I going to do to you?” he repeated, beginning to pace the room. “Well, I reckon that’s a good question.” He didn’t have a clue, actually. The girls had already cleaned the place from top to bottom. He’d have to get creative with his punishment. He rubbed the back of his neck, saying, “If your Miss Fortune hadn’t stepped in, I’d have left y’all in jail.”
    Maribeth looked at Emma and rolled her eyes.
    Trace set his teeth. He didn’t scare them one little bit. Maybe it was time to see if someone else could put the fear of God into them. “As it is, I reckon I’ll turn you over to the folks most inconvenienced by your actions.”
    It took a moment for Emma and Maribeth to catch on. When they did, Emma murmured, “Oh,” and hung her head. Maribeth cried, “Aw, Papa, you can’t!”
    He smiled. “C’mon, girls. It’s time to