Untethered (8 page)

“He’s not
my
Mr. Thibodaux,” Cricket corrected. “In fact, I hear tell the Widow Rutherford has nearly got him roped in.” The thought of Anastasia Rutherford winning the affections of Heathro Thibodaux caused all the pleasure Cricket had known a moment before to dissipate entirely.

“Oh, she’s tryin’ all right. I’ll give her that,” Mrs. Maloney began. “But it’s gonna take more than a pretty lasso to tether that boy to any woman’s porch.”

“A pretty lasso can tether any man to a woman’s porch, Mrs. Maloney, and you know it.” Cricket felt somehow defeated—almost depressed.

Mrs. Maloney nodded. “Sometimes that’s true…and sometimes it ain’t,” she said. “And anyway, Anastasia was in the general store the same time as me and Mr. Thibodaux, and he didn’t do more than nod and mumble a greeting when she said hello to him.” Mrs. Maloney frowned and seemed thoughtful. “I think those goin’s-on last year just did that man too much damage.”

Cricket sighed and shook her head. “I don’t understand why he seems to bear the guilt of it all,” she said. “He was the one who was right when the rest of the posse was wrong. It wasn’t his fault he had no help.”

“Oh, but a good man always thinks he should’ve done more…could’ve done more…even against impossible odds.”

There was quiet for a moment, and Cricket tried to divert her own thoughts from Heathro Thibodaux and his past—from Heathro Thibodaux at all!

But it seemed Maymee Maloney wasn’t about to let that happen. “Why don’t you lasso that man for yourself, Magnolia?”

Cricket rolled her eyes with humiliation and exasperation. “Oh! Of course!” she exclaimed with friendly sarcasm. “And then I’ll just become President of the
United States
and live forever too, while I’m at it!”

“Oh for Pete’s sake,” Mrs. Maloney scolded. “Lassoin’ a man ain’t anything as difficult as becomin’ President of the
United States
.” She smiled and shook her head. “Sometimes I wonder what on earth goes on in that mind of yours.”

“Says who?” Cricket asked, perking up just a bit—for she could see the mischief in Mrs. Maloney’s smiling eyes, and it always cheered her.

“Says me,” Mrs. Maloney answered. “In fact, why don’t you just run on over to his house one night, rope him up good, tie him to a chair, and go about
convincin’
him that you’re the woman he’s always wanted?”

Cricket laughed, shaking her head with amused disbelief. “You make the most scandalous suggestions sometimes, Mrs. Maloney!” she exclaimed. “And what do you mean, go about convincin’ him, anyway? What could I possibly do to convince him to want
me
…even if he was tied to a chair?”

But Mrs. Maloney only laughed, her gray eyes so radiant with misbehavior that Cricket thought surely stars had been plucked from the heavens and placed in her head where her eyes used to be. “Oh, let’s save that for another time,” she said. “For now, why don’t you tell me what all is goin’ on with your daddy and
Ada
. Did
Ada
finish puttin’ up all that strawberry jam she was workin’ on?”

Cricket smiled and nodded. She knew Mrs. Maloney had said all s
he was going to say on the subject of Heathro Thibodaux being tied to a chair and how Cricket could convince him to want her. She was a sneaky little thing—and Cricket loved her all the more for it.

❦

When Cricket, Marie, Ann, and Vilma had first decided t
o begin their do-gooding shenanigans, they decided that everything mysterious and secretive was easier to go about veiled in the concealing cloak of night. Thus, they had therefore decided they’d have to be literally cloaked as well. Going about their do-gooding with only the moon and starlight as their guides was certainly helpful at hiding their identity, but they had all agreed they would need something more—costumes of a sort.

It had been Cricket who had first offered the suggestion of rounding up old camisoles, shirtwaists, bloomers, and petticoats and dying them black. Vilma had been mortified at the suggestion, of course—or at least she’d pretended to be (though Cricket knew that the preacher’s daughter secretly relished the chance to run around town in a set of black underwear—it fulfilled her unspoken desire to rebel). Marie and Ann had heartily agreed at once, however, Marie explaining that the black would help them blend into their dark surroundings while do-gooding and Ann offering that it would put to good use their old, too-worn clothing.

And so, one rather dreary winter morning, Cricket, Marie, Ann, and Vilma set about dying old undergarments. By the next evening, they were dressed head to toe in their proper do-gooder apparel and flitting around Pike’s Creek scattering joy to others by means of leaving cookies on porches, dollies on little girls’ window sills, and even apple pies in barns for the widows and widowers in town.

For months and months the girls had enjoyed their shenanigans—and so had anyone and everyone who had been a lucky victim of them. And so, as Cricket pulled on her black stockings in preparation for the shenanigans they had planned for Mrs. Maloney, Mr. Keel, Heathro Thibodaux, and Hudson Oliver, she smiled at the memory of that very first night of mischief. She’d never known such excitement and pure gladness as she knew in making others smile and lightening their hearts—even if only for a moment.

Logically, however, as she pulled her black shirtwaist over her black camisole, her excitement turned to nervous anxiety as she thought again of her chosen task for the evening—Heathro Thibodaux. In truth, she was still silently wondering how in all the wide, wide world she would ever find the courage to do what she’d promised to do! Welcoming him to Pike’s Creek was easy enough—but to kiss him? If Cricket were to be honest with Ann, Vilma, and Marie, she would confess that she wouldn’t be sure whether she could muster the gumption to actually kiss the man until the very moment presented itself! Of course, she couldn’t confide the truth of it in her friends. After all, she was the strong one—the fighter.

Cricket knew, as did her friends, that every one of them was a fighter. There wasn’t one among them who would ever back down from doing right or from pushing on through whatever trial crossed their paths. But the fact remained that Cricket owned the greatest sense of responsibility—felt compelled to defend, protect, encourage, and help the others. And most of the time Cricket was willing. But each and every time she thought about kissing Heathro Thibodaux, not only did her arms and legs break into gooseflesh but her stomach also churned into such chaos that she thought she might vomit!

But there was no time to be fearful. Merry mischief was afoot, and as Cricket finished dressing and quietly crept out of her father’s house by way of her bedroom window, the cool night air and wonderful aroma of burning cedar in warm hearths sent an overwhelming exhilaration riveting through her! Four people would drift to sleep with smiles on their faces—or at least in their hearts—after Cricket and her friends were finished with their shenanigans that night. Well, Mrs. Maloney and Mr. Keel would feel lighter-hearted. Cricket wasn’t so sure about Heathro Thibodaux. Furthermore, she knew that Marie’s confession to Hudson Oliver, accompanied by her plead for him to remain in Pike’s Creek, would no doubt find Hudson Oliver unable to sleep or settle down for that matter. Still, in her soul Cricket knew
Hudson
would stay—that he already cared deeply for Marie. And so she soothed herself in knowing that at least three of the recipients of their do-gooding would benefit.

The stars were bright, twinkling overhead like tiny beacons, and the moon was beautiful in its brilliance, like a wafer of silver in the night sky, as Cricket made her way to meet Ann, Marie, and Vilma at the old lean-to just outside of town. The soothing aria of the crickets mingled with the gentle summer breeze in the trees seemed the music of heaven, and the fragrance of lilac and honeysuckle wandered on the air like a delicate, feathered perfume.

“There you are, Cricket. Finally!” Cricket heard Vilma whisper as she reached the old lean-to.

“I’m sorry, everyone,” Cricket apologized. “Daddy and
Ada
were up longer than usual tonight. I had to fib a headache to get away to my room.”

“It’s fine, Cricket,” Marie said. “We were just talkin’ about who we should do first…Mrs. Maloney or Mr. Keel.”

“Mrs. Maloney,” Ann and Vilma chimed in unison. They looked at one another and smiled.

“Ann is still nervous about the quilt for Mr. Keel, and I don’t want us to accidentally damage the teapot somehow,” Vilma explained. “So is that all right with you, Cricket? If we deliver Mrs. Maloney’s teapot first?”

“Of course,” Cricket affirmed. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

“We thought maybe you’d want to deliver Mr. Thibodaux’s gift first,” Ann explained, “so that you wouldn’t have wait to—”

“Oh! Oh, I’m fine with waitin’…truly,” Cricket interrupted. She was glad it was dark. Perhaps the other girls hadn’t noticed her radish-red blush or nervous agitation.

“Then we’ll do Mrs. Maloney first,” Marie confirmed. “Then Ann will give Mr. Keel his quilt and—”

“Then Ann will leave Mr. Keel’s quilt on his porch,” Ann interjected.

Everyone giggled, and Cricket felt sorry for Ann. She knew that leaving the quilt on Mr. Keel’s porch was nearly as frightening for Ann as the idea of stealing a kiss from Mr. Thibodaux was to her—even if they were apples and onions.

“Right,” Marie giggled. “Then Ann will leave Mr. Keel’s quilt on the porch, and then it will be Cricket’s turn…and last of all mine.” Marie moaned with anxiety, and Cricket felt the call to strength in her heart—as ever she did.

She placed her hands firmly on Marie’s shoulders. “This is the night, Marie,” Cricket whispered as the delicious anticipation of adventure mingled with her own anxiety in her bosom. “This is the night you will win Hudson Oliver for you own!”

“Yes, Marie,” Vilma said, taking Marie’s hand and offering a squeeze of encouragement. “After tonight, there will be no more wonderin’. After tonight, you’ll know how
Hudson
feels.”

Ann took Marie’s free hand then, grasping it between both of her own. “
Hudson
loves you, Marie. All of us know it. Even you know it! And now it’s time for the two of you to quit horsin’ around and get on with it.”

“That’s right, Marie,” Cricket said. But when she saw the doubt beginning to darken Marie’s sapphire eyes, she knew her friend needed more. “And just think…by the end of tonight, you’ll know just what it feels like to have Hudson Oliver kiss you!”

“Y-you mean, I’ll know what it feels like to kiss
him
,” Marie stammered. “What if he—”

“He won’t,” Cricket interrupted before Marie could swell her own doubt. “Once your lips touch his…I know Hudson Oliver will be like bread dough in your hands, Marie. There’s no way possible that boy won’t have you in his arms makin’ love to you right there for all the stars to see! I know it. I do.”

“It’s true, Marie,” Ann said. “I know it too.”

“And me,” Vilma added.

Cricket wondered for a moment why it was everyone assumed that Marie’s challenge for the evening required so much more encouragement than hers did. In truth, wasn’t it far and away different for Marie to confess her heart and offer a kiss to the young man she’d loved nearly all her life than it was for Cricket to walk up to a nearly complete stranger and steal a kiss? But naturally the moment passed as Cricket reminded herself that only her pride was at risk, while Marie’s entire future was what teetered on the edge.

“He loves you, Marie,” Cricket assured her friend once more. “I know he does.”

Marie grinned, sighed, and nodded. “All right. All right. Then let’s get to Mrs. Maloney’s and spread some sunshine, shall we?”

“Yes!” Cricket giggled, throwing her arms around Marie’s shoulders and hugging her tightly. Ann and Vilma joined the embrace, and the girls giggled with excitement.

As they made their way toward Mrs. Maloney’s house, Cricket again took a moment to admire the beauty of the stars and moon in the night sky. All would be well, she thought to herself. Mrs. Maloney would cherish her teapot, Mr. Keel would be warm in not only the comfort of a new quilt but the knowledge that someone was looking out for him, and Hudson Oliver would finally have the door to confessing his own feelings flung wide open by Marie’s courage.

As for Heathro Thibodaux and his welcome to Pike’s Creek—there was nothing to do but wait until the moment arrived and hope that the brooding ex-Texas Ranger wasn’t startled into shooting the girl who meant to welcome him to town by stealing a kiss.

Cricket clamped one hand over her mouth to keep from squealing with amusement as she, Ann, and Marie watched Vilma quietly tiptoe up Mrs. Maloney’s front porch steps. Her delight was nearly euphoric. Oh, how thoroughly Mrs. Maloney would love the teapot! No teapot in the world had ever been or would ever be so treasured and cared for. Cricket felt a pinch in her happy heart—painful gratitude for Vilma and her sacrifice for Mrs. Maloney’s sake. Oh, certainly Vilma’s hair would grow back. But Cricket knew how vain Vilma Stanley was about her beautiful auburn hair. It was truly a heartfelt and humble forfeit.

“I’m so excited I think I’m gonna cry,” Ann whispered.