Chapter 7
Macey
I curse under my breath as three women surround me in my office at The Cowherd late Saturday afternoon.
Mama pulls at my hair, adding copious amounts of hair spray.
Ginny tugs at my dress, making sure my corset is firmly in place.
Eloise, the owner of Darcy Bridal Boutique, finishes up the hem so I won’t tear the gown when I walk.
And I’ve had it. I’ve been poked and prodded at for the last two hours, all to prepare for a Wild Darcy Derby I never wanted to participate in, to begin with.
“That’s enough!” I step back. “I’m sure I look fine.”
Eloise stumbles forward onto her hands and knees from my sudden movement, and Ginny steps away, but I can’t shake Mama, who’s glued to my hair like a cat on a mouse.
I bat at my mother’s hands until she lets go. Then I walk into the bathroom and survey the damage.
My hair is piled up onto the top of my head in a curly, styled bun, and the corset is so snug my boobs look about two sizes bigger than they are.
“Look at your cleavage!” Ginny’s come up behind me and is staring into the mirror. “That corset is fantastic!”
“This thing’s coming off as soon as possible,” I vow. “I have my bag packed with a tank top and shorts. You’ll hold it for me?”
“Of course. But you know—” She giggles. “I’d hold off on changing until after dinner. Logan’s going to want to jump you as soon as he sees that corset. And all those buttons and ties could be fun for him to work with, you know.”
“Shh. Don’t get my mother more intrigued than she already is. She’s desperate for me to date like a normal person.”
“How is Logan going to make sure he wins, exactly?” Ginny says in a lower voice. “I know he’s an amazing rider and all, but so are lots of men in this town.”
I shrug. “I didn’t ask him how. He just said he had it and not to worry.”
And in over twenty years, Logan Wild hasn’t let me down yet.
As Ginny and Eloise head outside, my mother shuts the door to my office, closing the two of us inside.
When she stares pointedly at my left wrist, I immediately cover it with my right hand.
“Mama, this isn’t the time.”
“This is exactly the time, baby. You know what Vivian’s diary says.”
Yes. I could recite it in my darn sleep.
Despite that fact, I know what she wants.
I reach inside the slot underneath my desk and pull out the torn antiquated page from Vivian Elmstock Haskins’s diary, the page Mama discovered one tipsy night at the Cowherd when Daddy was away getting sober.
I may not believe in the legend of Darcy, but Vivian is a woman I can relate to.
She’s the Olde English version of my mother—bitter, melodramatic, and trapped in a marriage she both desired but despised.
Vivian was the first lady of Darcy. She was married to town founder and first mayor Frederick Woodholm Haskins, and her diary has been kept as a historical artifact. It belongs to the Darcy Museum, but The Cowherd borrows it for every wedding season in Hill Country.
I sigh as bullet points of the legend burst into my head:
In 1857, Vivian found a copy of Pride and Prejudice left behind by Frederick’s high-society mistress. I guess she wasn’t too happy because she blamed the forty-years-deceased Jane Austen and her idealistic notions of romantic love for Frederick’s affair.
Desperate to keep his angry wife from leaving him, Frederick hired a witch to cast a curse and kidnap Jane Austen’s spirit.
The story goes that she was taken away from her soul mate lover who lived in the same cemetery.
She ended up at the county jail in Darcy, Texas, the same jail my great-great-granddaddy won in a poker game and converted into The Cowherd Whiskey Saloon & Chapel.
The curse has only one way to be broken: two soul mates must marry in the presence of Jane Austen’s ghost by the one hundred and fiftieth year of the town’s founding.
I glance down at the diary page in my hand. I don’t need to unravel it and read Vivian’s faded beautiful cursive to remember its bullet points:
The eldest daughter of the jailkeeper is also cursed, a curse marked by a scar on her flesh.
If the spell holding Jane Austen’s ghost is not broken by July fourth during the one hundred and fiftieth year of the imprisonment, the cursed eldest daughter will share the ghost’s fate—both will lose their chance to be with their Mr. Darcy, and thus, their hearts will remain locked forever.
Mama grabs the page out of my hand. “This.” She shakes the paper. “This is serious business, baby.”
I half-laugh as I look down at the white scar on the soft side of my left wrist.
The jail became defunct once the prison moved out of Darcy, so my daddy isn’t technically a jailkeeper. He’s a bar owner. And Vivian was clearly either deranged or enjoyed dabbling in fantasy writing.
But Mama blames herself for the accident that caused my scar. She ripped this page out of the diary and demanded I hide it so I won’t be labeled cursed. She’s certain my Mr. Darcy is out there and that I need Jane Austen’s spirit to be freed or else I’ll lose my chance at true love.
Yeah, small-town urban legends are the worst.
“Mama.” I take the page back and return it to my desk just as Daddy starts shouting for us. “It will be okay. Come on, the race is about to start.”
“Macey,” Mama whispers as we walk down the hall to the front porch of the bar. “I just want the perfect man to sweep you off your feet.”
“Let’s just try to get through the derby without talking further about my love life,” I beg her. “Please.”
My mother pretends to zip her lips shut. “Not to worry, Mace. But I’ll be rooting for you.”
I stand with the “singles of Darcy” group as we gather outside The Cowherd.
I’m leaning against the porch railing, but many of the contestants are standing behind me on the porch and craning their necks toward the opening to the woods at the edge of Wild Ranch.
That opening is where the Wild Darcy Derby riders will come through on route to the finish line.
Ginny waves to me from her spot next to Mama on the lawn. I smile back and try to appear nonchalant, but inside I’m a bundle of nerves.
What if Logan doesn’t cross the finish line first? Like Ginny said, lots of men in this town can ride—and ride well. Darcy doesn’t exactly have a shortage of cowboys.
I waited with Ginny at the starting line so I could watch Logan mount his horse.
He lined up in front of the pack of riders on the outside—right where I knew he wanted to be.
Then, he messed around with something on his lap before he looked over at me and lifted his chin toward my right hand, the one holding my phone.
I glanced down at the screen.
Are you going to kiss me when I cross the finish line?
I felt my cheeks heat, and I quickly texted him back.
In your dreams. I’ll kiss you when nobody’s watching, though.
What about up at the altar? You better not leave me hanging.
I made a face at him, and he laughed.
Let’s see how much you impress me in the race, I typed back.
Within minutes, Daddy fired the gun, and Logan was off. I lost sight of him pretty quickly, and ever since, I’ve waited impatiently to see him again.
“Someone’s coming!” Mama’s voice pierces through the hum of conversation around me.
Every single head turns as if on a swivel, including mine.
I can just make out a horse, but the rider is still in shadow, until…
“Reid Wild!”
Shit.
I glance over at Ginny, who frowns.
This isn’t how it was supposed to happen.
I hear Patrick’s piercing shout of encouragement from behind me. Patrick Gold has had an unrequited crush on Reid for years. I turn to glare at him.
“Patrick, if Reid wins, I have to fake marry him!” I say. “How does that help you?”
Maren, my sister’s BFF, looks over from behind Ginny’s shoulder. “Exactly, Patrick. It doesn’t help you.”
I glance over at Maren. Her green eyes are filled with irritation but also…jealousy? Maren and Reid…hmmm. I never thought they even liked each other.
Reid’s really motoring out of the woods and across the pasture, and my jaw tightens. Logan’s most annoying brother, of all people, trying to one-up everyone. I’m about to call out to Maren that she can gladly have Reid even if he wins when—
“Someone’s on his tail!”
My heart soars.
Only to come crashing down again when—
“Sal Hughes! What a horseman he is!” Daddy’s voice booms out.
Seriously? Does my father really want me to fake marry the most crooked politician in Hunt County?
I turn and glare at Daddy. Just like I said, this Wild Darcy Derby was the worst idea ever.
I told everyone who would listen, and now I’m screwed.
I slump against the porch railing, lean my head on my arms, and pray for a miracle.
All in all, I don’t ask for much.
That my father stays sober as much as possible.
That my parents try not to kill each other.
That The Cowherd stays in the black.
I know life’s full of curveballs, but the idea of missing a date tonight with Logan, and spending the evening instead with Sal or Reid, just fills me with sadness.
“A third rider’s coming! And coming fast!”
The hairs on the back of my neck stand up like they always do when Logan’s around. I don’t even need to look to know it’s him. A shiver goes through my spine, and then I hear Ginny’s squeal.
“Logan Wild!” she shouts. “Go, Logan, go!”
“No rooting,” Daddy admonishes her, but even he can’t hide the enthusiasm in his tone when he calls out, “Almost got it, son!”