Untethered (35 page)

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Authors: Marcia Lynn McClure

BOOK: Untethered
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“Ravaged?” Wyatt offered, smiling.

“Seduced,” Vilma corrected. “I have no doubt they spent their time together talkin’…plannin’. Cricket always had instructions for us when she returned…things Heath had told her to tell us. Even the last night we were captive—the night before Heath took us from those men—even that night, it was Cricket who told us all the details of the plan…how Heath intended to get the men drunk, slit Burnette’s throat, and ride away with us.” Vilma paused a moment, smiling as she stopped kneading the bread dough. “I remember how Cricket looked when she came back to us that night. Her eyes were on fire with joyfulness…even for the desperation of our circumstances.” Vilma nodded. “And judging from the appearance of her face and lips…that was the night Heath really had his way with her.” She looked to Wyatt, quickly adding, “With a long while of sparkin’ is all, Wyatt. Just sparkin’.”

“How many times did the man take Cricket for some…instruction, Vilma?” Wyatt asked.

Vilma shrugged. “Several times a day…and once before we were tied up for the night.”

“And now they’re sparkin’ out behind Clifford King’s barn, are they?”

Wyatt chuckled, and even for the bread dough stuck to her fingers, Vilma reached out, firmly taking hold of his wrist. “Heathro Thibodaux and Cricket Cranford saved my life, Wyatt!” she growled. “Don’t you dare to do anything that would harm them…or their reputations in this town. Do you hear me?”

Wyatt frowned. “I wouldn’t do nothin’ like that, Vilma, and you know it.” He yanked his arm out of her grasp and glared at her. “You know I wouldn’t.”

“Do I?” Vilma asked with suspicion. “If you speak a word of this to anyone, Wyatt…I swear to you I will pack up my things and leave Pike’s Creek. I’ll leave you here to deal with Daddy all on your own.”

Wyatt’s eyes narrowed. “I can pick up and leave anytime I want to, Vilma. I can leave too. So what kind of a threat is that?”

“It’s not a threat,” Vilma told him. “It’s a promise. And anyway, you don’t have the means to leave town. You’ve never saved a penny from any money you’ve earned. And I have. I have plenty of money to leave. So don’t you dare to try to hurt Cricket and Heath. Because I will leave you if you do.”

“I ain’t gonna say a word, Vilma,” Wyatt growled. “You’re just assumin’ they was sparkin’ all that while anyway. You never actually saw it the way I did.”

Vilma wasn’t about to make the same mistake twice, so she responded, “You’re right. I never did see Heath kiss Cricket. I’m just speculatin’ on what I
think
happened.” She returned to kneading the dough, careless of whether her hand had picked up some dust or something when she’d grabbed Wyatt’s arm.

“Well,” Wyatt sighed. “I suppose we’ll just wait and see what happens. Maybe Heathro Thibodaux’s conscience will start naggin’ at him, and he’ll make an honest woman of Cricket.”

“There’s no need for him to make an honest woman of her, Wyatt!” Vilma shrieked in an angry whisper.

But Wyatt only laughed and stood up from his chair, pinching a piece of bread dough from Vilma’s breadboard and popping the dough into his mouth. “Say what you want, Vilma Stanley…but you didn’t see him gnawin’ at her like a bear to a honey hive the way I did. No sirree.”

Wyatt left the kitchen, still chuckling to himself—self-righteous in what he thought he knew.

Anxiety washed over Vilma as she wondered whether she should tell Cricket what happened. Or perhaps she should tell Heath. Angrily punching the dough, she decided she would tell Cricket—that very afternoon. Vilma, Marie,
Ann, and Cricket were set to meet out by the old oak tree to finalize their shenanigan plans for the coming Friday night. She’d tell Cricket what happened with Wyatt then. She’d tell Cricket and Ann and Marie. There was more safety in numbers, after all.


“Don’t worry, Daddy,” Cricket assured her father, handing him the reins to his horse. “
Ada
and I will be just fine here alone. Those men trapped in the mine over in Lyman need your help. But you and Mr. Keel make sure
Hudson
don’t get boxed in the mouth or somethin’.” Cricket giggled, adding, “Because Marie would be devastated if she had to go a whole week long without sparkin’ with him.”

Zeke smiled. Cricket seemed so much better. Just over the course of the past couple of days, she seemed happier—less anxious. There was sparkle in her eyes that
Ada
had confided to Zeke she was fairly certain Heathro Thibodaux had put there. And if
Ada
were right—and she always was—Zeke was glad of it.

“Are you sure, sweetheart?” Zeke asked all the same.

“Yes, Daddy,” Cricket answered. “I’m just gonna run on over to Mrs. Maloney’s for a nice, long visit this afternoon, and then Ada and I are gonna put up some blackberry jam for you. How does that sound?”

“Sounds sweet,” Zeke chuckled. He sighed. “All right then. I’ll be back in a couple of days.” He still paused, remembering what had transpired the last time he’d left
Ada
and Cricket alone.

His eyes must have spoken the words his mind was thinking because Cricket smiled, raised herself on her tiptoes, and kissed him on the cheek, saying, “Those outlaws are dead, Daddy. Nobody is gonna steal me away this time. You go on and help those men. All right?”

“All right,” Zeke sighed. He reached out, gathering
Ada
into one arm and passionately kissing her. She tasted like plump, ripe blackberries, and he moaned, “Mmmm,” as he ended their kiss. “You taste so good, honey.”

Ada
blushed, kissed him quickly on the cheek, and said, “You go on…before I decide to drag you back in the house and…and…” Glancing to Cricket,
Ada
blushed, finishing, “Before I decide to drag you back in the house and put you to work on those blackberries waitin’ in the kitchen.”

Zeke laughed and mounted his horse. “You two stay out of trouble this time, you hear?”

His girls giggled, exchanged glances, and clasped hands. “We will,” they chimed in unison.

As his anxiety settled somewhat, Zeke spurred his horse toward Lyman and the men trapped in the mine cave-in there.

 

Cricket sighed a sigh of contentment, even as she watched her father ride away. She wasn’t anxious about his leaving—not that day. For one thing, she was still walking on air—for the warm euphoria inside her caused by sparking with Heathro Thibodaux at the Cornfield Chase lingered like a sweet summer breeze.

She watched as Cooper Keel, Hudson Oliver, Clifford King, and Ralph Burroughs joined her father in the distance. Heathro was planning to ride over, once he’d corralled his ornery, trouble-making bull again. Of course, Cricket wished Heath wouldn’t go. She wished he’d just stay in Pike’s Creek. In truth, she wished he’d carry her to Clifford King’s barn again—drench her in his passionate kisses—for the rest of her life!

“So?”
Ada
began. “You haven’t told me anything about how the Cornfield Chase went. Did you have a good time?”

Cricket blushed and nodded. “Yes, I did,
Ada
.” She looked to her loving stepmother and friend, adding, “Thanks to you.”

“Me?”
Ada
asked. Cricket thought it was a good thing
Ada
had never tried to become an actress—for she had no gift for acting. “I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about, Cricket. Truly.”

“Hmmm. Don’t you?” Cricket asked. She was certain it was
Ada
’s revelation to Heath that Cricket had been calling out for him at night that had spurred him on to seeking her out at the Cornfield Chase. Why he’d paused for two weeks before that, she wasn’t sure. Perhaps Heath had been thinking the same types of things that Cricket had—that it was only the trauma of the circumstances surrounding her abduction and his saving her that found her so willingly in his arms. She wasn’t sure. But whatever the reasons that had kept her and Heath apart since returning from bondage, it seemed they had been vanquished by Heath’s brief conversation with Ada.

“Not at all,”
Ada
sighed. “Well, I’m off to start preparin’ those blackberries. You tell Maymee Maloney that I said hello. All right?”

Ada
turned and almost skipped back into the house.

“I will,” Cricket called after her. Her smile broadened as gladness for the fact she and
Ada
were becoming close fluttered in her.

Turning and starting toward Mrs. Maloney’s house, Cricket gazed up into the blue summer sky. There weren’t many clouds nearby, but a thunderhead was smoldering in the south. Still, there seemed plenty of time to wander a bit and enjoy a visit with Mrs. Maloney.

Cricket sighed with contentment as she meandered toward Maymee Maloney’s house. She smiled as she neared the quaint little house of her friend, for she heard birds gleefully twittering in the trees and caught the tinkling sound of the wind chimes hanging on its front porch as she approached.

Mrs. Maloney was waiting for her in a rocking chair on her front porch and greeted, “Well, there you are, sweet pea! I was wonderin’ when you’d meander on over this mornin’.”

Cricket giggled. Oh, how she adored the elderly woman! Mrs. Maloney was not only a cherished friend but also an invaluable tutor, a counselor, a comfort, and a guide—in truth, Cricket’s blessed and beloved mentor.

Cricket dashed up onto the porch, stooping and placing an affectionate kiss on Mrs. Maloney’s weathered, velvet-soft cheek.

“Well, aren’t we just a perky little persimmon this mornin’?” Mrs. Maloney laughed as Cricket plopped down in the rocking chair next to her. Cricket unlaced her shoes, removed them, and began stripping off her stockings. “And what’s that I see?” Maymee asked, closely studying Cricket’s face and neck.

“What?” Cricket asked, wondering if she’d inadvertently smeared blackberry juice on herself while helping
Ada
that morning.

“Why, Magnolia
Cranford
!” Maymee gasped. “Is that whisker chafin’ I see there around your mouth?” Cricket blushed seventeen shades of pink and red as Mrs. Maloney continued to tease. “Were you out sparkin’ at that Cornfield Chase last night?” The old woman laughed again, her light blue eyes twinkling with merriment. “Or did you finally tie that handsome Texas Ranger to a chair and have your way with him?”

Cricket smiled and giggled then. Tucking her stockings into her shoes and tossing them aside, she answered, “I didn’t tie him up to a chair.” Blushing, she added, “I didn’t have to.”

Maymee Maloney rocked back in her chair, looking to the heavens, raising her arms, and hollering, “Hallelujah! Somethin’ excitin’ is finally happenin’ in this drowsy old town!”

“Shh!” Cricket playfully scolded in a whisper. “It was just a little sparkin’, Mrs. Maloney. It isn’t…it’s not serious.”

“The hell it isn’t, girl!” Mrs. Maloney exclaimed. “I’ve been waitin’ a month of Sundays for you and that handsome hunk of manflesh to quit prancin’ around it all and just have at it the way you’ve both been wantin’ to for months.”

“Oh, but I don’t think he—” Cricket began.

“Oh, don’t you start now,” Maymee interrupted, shaking her head. “If it was up to you and Ann Burroughs and all your innocent na
ï
veté, it’d be a miracle to see another baby born in this town.”

“What? What about Ann?” Cricket asked. She was wildly curious. She hadn’t seen Ann since Mr. King had pounded on his wife’s stewpot the night before to start the Cornfield Chase. Of course, Cricket hadn’t seen anybody until long after the chase began. She and Heath had spent near to three hours behind Clifford King’s barn, either sparking or conversing. And when Cricket had finally peeked into the barn while all the other folks were enjoying pies, cookies, and punch, Ann Burroughs had been nowhere to be found.

Mrs. Maloney’s eyebrows arched with triumph. “Well, let’s just put it this way, shall we?” she began. “Ann Burroughs…when she dropped by this mornin’ to offer me an extra spool of thread she’d found in her sewin’ basket…well, she was nearly as bright-eyed and chap-faced as you are.”

“Ann?” Cricket asked. “But she’s sweet on Mr. Keel! Who would Ann be sparkin’ with last night?” Cricket gasped as it struck then. And as Mrs. Maloney nodded with affirmation, she asked, “Do you mean to tell me that Mr. Keel captured Ann in the cornfield last night?” Cricket was delighted—beyond delighted—she was ecstatic!

“Captured her in the cornfield and Clifford King’s pumpkin patch and under that old oak tree behind the general store,” Mrs. Maloney confirmed. As Cricket giggled with pure merriment, Maymee added, “
And
Cooper Keel was over to speak to Ralph Burroughs this mornin’ before the men left for Lyman. Ann’s mama told me just fifteen minutes ago that Cooper Keel asked Ralph’s permission to court Ann…with the intentions of marryin’ her before fall.”

Cricket clapped her hands together, squealing with delight. “How marvelous! Oh, how perfectly romantic!”

“Yes,” Mrs. Maloney sighed. “It seems everything is workin’ out just fine.” She paused for a moment, and Cricket noticed the expression of concern that quickly crossed her face.

“What is it?” she asked.

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