The fantasy dissolved when a thundering explosion rattled her shop windows. “What…?” she murmured, reaching for a damp towel to wipe her hands as she moved from behind her worktable, pausing just long enough to turn off her oven before hurrying to the front of her shop. Outside, alarm filled the faces of the people spilling into the street and the fading light of evening and rushing south.
South? What could have exploded to the south? Her first thought had been the meatpacking plant, but that was on the north end of town.
She smelled burning wood the moment she stepped outside. Fire bells clanged their way down Main Street and, hearing them, Mari experienced her first glimmer of true fear. The Texas Spring Palace stood on the south end of town.
She joined the flood of people making their way down the street and almost against her will, tuned into the conversations taking place around her.
Train wreck…boiler explosion…whorehouse in Hell’s Half Acre. The Palace. The Spring Palace. Gotta be the Texas Spring Palace.
A cowboy exited the dry-goods store saying, “Heard they expected a big crowd there tonight. Hope some folks got out of there alive.”
Mari heart shot up to lodge in her throat as she broke into a run. No. No. No. My family. Oh, God. Please.
It took forever to reach the end of the street, and yet, she arrived far too soon. Bracing herself, she looked left. Her blood ran cold and terror froze her footsteps.
Fire engulfed the Texas Spring Palace. Black smoke billowed into the sky. Flames danced everywhere she looked. The roof of the west wing collapsed even as the east wing’s walls disappeared behind a wall of red and yellow fire. Fingers of flame clawed across the huge dome. The northwest cupola teetered, then fell with a groan.
It was the sounds that finally penetrated Mari’s horror. The cracks and crashes, the clanging of fire bells. The screams. Oh, God, the screams.
As she watched, a woman dropped a child from a second-story window into willing arms waiting below. Then, she made the leap herself.
The huge crowd outside the building gave her hope. The Spring Palace had many exits, something her architect father had noted with approval. People had escaped. Surely her family had escaped.
Please, God, let my family have escaped.
How could she know? The scene was chaotic. People rushed away from the building, toward the building, from one side to the other. Husbands called for wives, mothers for children. Children cried for their mommies and daddies and broke Mari’s heart.
She stopped beside a boy of five or six who sat sobbing on the ground. He had sandy hair and big, teary brown eyes and a trembling mouth that revealed two missing front teeth. He wore a cute little fringed leather jacket with the Lone Star flag embroidered across the back. Kneeling beside him, she asked, “Can I help you?”
“I can’t find Pa.”
“Were you inside the Spring Palace?”
“Uh-huh. We was in the farmin’ section lookin’ at plows and there was a big boom and Pa hauled me out but then he stopped to help somebody and I don’t know what happened. He was right there and then he was gone. I’m scared, lady.”
“I know, honey. What’s your name?”
“Billy. Billy Waddell.”
“Billy is a good name. One of my brothers is named Billy. He is ten years old and I’m looking for him. How about you and I look together?”
“Okay,” he replied, sniffing as he climbed to his feet.
“Let’s get you up where you can see.” Mari scooped him up into her arms. “What does your father look like?”
“He’s big and he has black hair.”
“What was he wearing tonight?”
“His good boots.”
Obviously, she needed to take a different tack. Chances were, given the chance, Billy’s father would spy him before Billy spied his father. She’d find a prominent spot and wait and…
“Wait. That’s it.” She smiled as a childhood memory provided plan. “When I was young like you, my papa told me and my sisters that if we ever became separated in a crowd, we should look for the tallest thing around and go stand by it. Has your papa ever told you anything like that?”
“No.”
“Let’s try it for a bit, anyway, shall we?” While she’d continually scanned the area for familiar faces, now she shifted her attention to locating a tall, safely located landmark. There, the flagpoles in the park across the street from the Spring Palace. If members of the McBride family remembered Trace McBride’s instructions, that’s where they’d go. “In fact, I have an idea. You keep a sharp eye out for your daddy, now.”
Mari threaded her way through the panicked crowd toward the park. She was halfway there when, with a loud crackle and roar, the dome of the Texas Spring Palace collapsed. Little Billy Waddle began to cry. “I want my daddy.”
“I know just how you feel.”
Anxiously, she scanned the park area. Of the seven other members of her family in attendance at the Texas Spring Palace tonight, surely someone recalled Papa’s instructions. Surely, someone would be there. Someone would be…
“Mama!”
Jenny McBride whirled around at the sound of her daughter’s voice. Joy lit her face as she spread her arms wide. “Mari! Thank God.”
Tears spilled from both women’s eyes as they embraced. “What about the others, Mama? Where are the others?”
“Isn’t Billy with you?”
“No.”
“Oh.” Jenny drew back, a wobble in both her voice and her forced smile. “Emma took Tom and Bobby home. Your papa is looking for you and Billy and Kat. I’m sure he’ll arrive with them in tow any moment. And who is this handsome fellow?”
Kat and Billy. Mari’s troubled focus shifted toward the burning building. She swallowed hard, then summoned a casual tone to say, “This is Billy Waddell. He got separated from his father in the crowd, and he’s going to wait with us until his papa finds him.” To the boy, she said, “Once when my brothers were younger they stole a lady’s petticoat off the clothesline and ran it up the flagpole outside the county courthouse. Everyone in town saw it. I’ll bet if we send your jacket up this one, your papa will find you real quick.”
“That’s a wonderful idea,” Jenny agreed as a shifting wind brought a cloud of gray smoke billowing over them. They coughed, and their eyes stung. They shifted position as little Billy said, “That stinks like the dump.”
The smell was bitter and acrid and awful—the aroma of destruction. Mari thought she’d remember this stench all her life.
The pulley on the flagpole squeaked as Jenny lowered the Lone Star banner while Mari helped the boy take off his jacket. Jenny produced a pair of safety pins from the hem of her skirt, frowned and said, “I think we’ll need another. Hand me one of yours.”
A seamstress, Jenny had taught her girls always to be prepared. Mari turned up the hem of her dress and removed one of her extra pins.
They secured the distinctive jacket through the grommets in the Lone Star flag and ran both objects up the pole. To give him a better view of the crowd, they lifted Billy to sit at one corner of the pole’s square granite base. While he watched for his father, Jenny and Mari leaned against the base and continued their own vigil. “What happened, Mama?” Mari asked. “What started the fire?”
“I don’t know. Your father and I were dancing when the band director abruptly halted the music and announced the building was being evacuated due to a fire in the southeast wing.
The southeast wing? Mari’s heart climbed to her throat. Oh, God.
“There was a stir,” Jenny continued, “a few panicky people, but for the most part, the crowd moved in an orderly manner. I was in a terror over you children, of course. The boys were supposed to be in the next room, the Texas History exhibit, but I knew better than to believe they’d actually be where they said they’d be. We had headed that way when Emma found us and told us she’d seen the two younger boys run outside. That’s when the boiler exploded and knocked us all to the
ground. What about you, Mari? Where were you?”
“I’d left,” Mari replied. “I was at the store making a batch of cookies when I heard the explosion.”
“Cookies? You left a dress ball early to go make cookies? Oh, dear.” Jenny touched her daughter’s arm. “What happened, honey? Did that rat-bounder Alexander Simpson say something to you? I saw him here tonight. You know, I do believe his hairline is beginning to recede.”
Mari offered a weak smile. Jenny McBride’s mother antenna quivered even in the middle of a crisis. “Alex Simpson isn’t worth the cost of cookie dough, Mama. Don’t fret, I…oh, look. I’ll bet that is Billy’s—”
“Daddy!” the little boy cried.
The reunion of father and son brought tears to both McBride women’s eyes. Billy’s grateful father, a butcher, promised them free beef for the rest of their lives. Watching the two depart, Jenny sighed and said, “It seems just yesterday my Billy was that age.”
Hearing the tremble in her mother’s voice, Mari reached out and grasped her hand.
Around the Texas Spring Palace, chaos continued to reign. Those fighting the raging flames had abandoned the building and instead, worked to prevent the fire from spreading to nearby structures. Further rescue attempts of any person trapped inside apparently had been abandoned. “Did the boys say where they last saw Billy?” Mari asked.
“Tommy said he followed you out of the ballroom when you left with Luke Garrett.”
“Billy followed me?” Mali’s mind raced back over the scene her young, impressionable brother might have witnessed. Oh, Kat. If Billy saw what I saw…
“I imagine he was worried about you. He’s protective of his big sisters, and you were with a known outlaw. I haven’t a clue where Kat ran off to. What part of the building were you in?”
The southeast wing. Where the fire started. Oh, God. “I was in the theater, but that was long before the fire started. I never saw Billy. I’ll bet something else distracted him and he went off somewhere else entirely.”
Or else, he stayed to watch Kat after Mari fled the building. Maybe he’s with Kat even now. “Maybe he went home. Maybe he and Kat are waiting at for us at Willow Hill.”
“I pray that’s so. Emma promised to send Tom to tell me the minute anyone comes home.”
Tension churned in Mari’s stomach. She wanted to snarl at the bystanders nearby who oohed and aahed with excitement. One barrel-bellied cowboy actually said it’d be something to see a burning body dash from the inferno. “What’s wrong with people?” she murmured.
Her mother squeezed her hand in silent agreement.
Then a voice resonant with joy called out from the crowd. “Maribeth!”
Seconds later, she was wrapped in Trace McBride’s strong embrace. “My baby, baby, baby,” he murmured into her hair. The tremor in his voice made her want to weep.
Abruptly, he stepped back, surveying her from head to toe. “You’re all right. You weren’t hurt.”
“I’m fine, Papa.” He, however, looked as if he’d aged a dozen years in the past two hours. The lines feathering from around his eyes had deepened, and his salt-and-pepper hair appeared heavier on salt. He looked weary and worried and wounded.
Almost as if he knew something. Something bad.
Oh, God.
Jenny touched her husband’s sleeve. “Trace? Kat and Billy?”
Distress flashed across his face. “No sign. No one has seen them. It’s a madhouse, though, and locating anyone is just a matter of chance. I had hoped to find everyone here.” To Mari, he said, “You remembered my rule about getting lost in a crowd.”
“I did.”
“The younger boys remembered,” he continued. “Billy should. Kat, too. I could see Billy getting caught up in the excitement of the fire and not thinking how worried we’d be, but Katrina should know better. She should know better, and she should remember and she should be here right now.”
Mari didn’t know what to say to her father. Should she tell him about seeing Kat with Rory? How could she not? “Papa, I—”
“Papa! Mama!” came a welcome, though teary, voice. “I hoped you’d be here.”
Billy. Joy and relief filled Mari’s heart as her mother and father rushed forward and she turned to see…a most unexpected sight.
Luke Garrett carried her brother in his arms. Though scuffed and dirty with red-rimmed eyes, Billy appeared to be in good health. Luke had a bloody gash on his cheek and a bruise on his temple. His smile was grim, the light in his eyes flat. He handed Billy over to her mother, then stepped back while her parents made a fuss over their son.
Watching him, Mari’s blood ran cold. She knew. No. Please, God. No.
Kat.
Mari’s knees went weak and her head started to spin. She leaned back against the flagpole base for support.
Having greeted his son, Trace turned to Luke Garrett. “Where did you find him?”
“He found me.” Then Luke stunned them all by adding, “Mr. McBride, your son saved my life. I am in his debt.”
Now standing at his mother’s side, Billy buried his head in her skirts and started to sob. The sound brought a lump to Mari’s throat and triggered tears of her own.
Roughly, Trace demanded, “What happened?”
Luke looked briefly at Mari and she knew from the brief exchange that they’d hear a censored version of events. “I’d met with an accident and as the fire spread, I lay unconscious in an out-of-the-way place. After his attempts to rouse me proved unsuccessful, Billy ran for help.”
Trace placed two fingers under his son’s chin and tilted his face upward. In a voice brimming with emotion, he said, “I’m proud of you, son.”
Billy jerked away and closed his eyes. “No, Pa. I’m bad. I’m a sorry, awful person!”
Trace and Jenny shared a baffled glance. Mari’s stomach took a nauseous roll. Kat.
Jenny knelt before her son. “What’s wrong, Billy? Tell us.”
“Mrs. McBride,” Luke began. “I don’t think—”
Billy interrupted with a tormented torrent of words. “The man hit him with a whiskey bottle and Kat screamed and she thought he was dead and she bumped the table and the candle fell but she didn’t see. I know she didn’t see. The man made her go behind the curtain and I ran up to the stage but by the time I got there it was on fire. It was on fire, Mama, and I was afraid to go get her, to tell her it was burning. I was afraid.” His voice broke on a sob. “It was smoking and crackling and burning and I was so scared. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. It’s my fault. It’s my fault!”
Jenny cried out softly like an animal in pain. Trace’s face bleached white. “Ka—” His voice cracked. He cleared his throat, then tried again. “Katrina?”
Luke said, “I don’t know, Mr. McBride. I didn’t see them leave. It’s possible they found an exit.”
“They?” Jenny repeated. “Who’s they?”
“That actor,” Mari said, in doing so admitting her involvement. “Kat met that actor in the theater. I followed her and she and I had…words.”
After a moment’s silence, Jenny murmured, “The cookies.”
Her heart breaking, Mari took a step toward her father. He appeared as if he’d taken a mortal blow. “The fire began in that wing. Kat.” He reached for Mari’s hand. Squeezed it hard. “Kat started the fire. Kat started the fire and no one’s seen her since.”
“I saw it too, Mr. McBride,” Luke said. “It definitely was an accident.”
Mari felt her father shudder, then he turned a stricken look toward his wife. “I had a feeling, Treasure. I’ve had this goddamn feeling for months!”
In the face of her husband’s despair, Jenny seemed to draw upon some inner strength. Her spine straightened, her shoulders squared. She rose to her feet and looked her husband straight in the eyes. “Leave it be, McBride. It’s too early to assume the worst.”
“If she’s not hurt, then where is she?”
Billy began sobbing anew, and Mari moved to take h
im into her arms to offer both of them comfort. “Maybe she knows about knocking over the candle and she’s afraid to come home, afraid to face us.”
“No!” Billy cried. “She didn’t know, I tell you. It was an accident and it rolled under the chair and she didn’t even know! She didn’t come out. I asked that man if there was another door and he said no. She didn’t come out!”
“What man?” Trace snapped.
Luke responded. “The fella Billy found to haul me out of the theater. A guy named Wagner. He knows the building and said that stage door was the only back door out of the theater. That doesn’t mean they didn’t leave another way.”
“But I didn’t see them. I’d have seen them. Kat didn’t come.”
“Stop it.” Jenny pinned them each in turn with a fierce, determined look, then took charge. “I’ll have no more negative talk. Now, I think we can conclude that had Kat remembered her father’s edict regarding crowds and tall landmarks, she’d have been here by now. Therefore, Mari, I want you to take your brother home. I’m sure your father wishes to remain at the site and assist in the…um…efforts. I’ll stay with him.”
Trace shook his head. “Jenny, you should go home, too.”
“I’m staying,” she stated flatly. “Mari, if your sister arrives at Willow Hill, one of you come down and let’s do like we did for Mr. Waddell. Run something of Kat’s up this flagpole. Her yellow shawl, I think. That’s bright. We’ll spot it.”
She turned to Luke and offered him her hand. “Thank you for bringing my son to us, Mr. Garrett. I’m glad he was able to be of assistance to you. Perhaps when this is all over, you could come to tea and share more of the details with us.”
“Certainly, Mrs. McBride. Whatever you like.”
Luke Garrett, however, wasn’t ready to be dismissed. He glanced at Mari once more, then said, “Considering this evening’s events, you should know that I intend to participate in a search for your daughter and Rory.”
“Thank you, Garrett.” Trace cleared his throat gruffly. “All hands are appreciated at a time like this.”
Mari sensed more to his offer than gratitude for Billy’s assistance, and under the circumstances, she thought she should call him on it. “Who is he to you, Luke?”
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