Page 3 of Harrison Hyde and the Runaway Bride

Still, she had no time to worry about that, nor to chitchat. She gave short answers, that flash of anger in Billy Bob’s face just before he’d taken off, giving her rocket fuel. She got to the doors, threw them open, and ran outside just as Billy Bob’s pickup roared away, leaving rubber on the road.

Jessi ran over to join her whipcord-lean husband, Lash, and bear-sized big brother Garrett. “He’d best not get anywherenearMaria Michele when he’s that teed off,” she said.

From behind her, Willow said, “I think we’d better get to her first, to make sure.”

Jessi turned to see six out of seven of the youngest generation of Brands standing together. Wes and Taylor’s daughter Willow was three quarters Comanche, and looked it. Beside her, blond, blue-eyed Drew and her older brother Orrin stood close together, looking like younger versions of their parents, Ben and Penny. Elliot and Esmeralda’s son Trevor had his father’s wiry build and his Mexican mother’s brown skin and ebony eyes. His dark-brown hair had hints of his dad’s auburn. Second cousin Baxter, the oldest of them all at thirty, with his shaggy golden hair and black-framed glasses, stood alone until Bubba came up beside him and clapped his shoulder.

They were all looking down the road in the direction taken by the angry groom.

An old blue import with New York plates passed, heading the same way as Billy Bob’s truck.

Then the six youngsters— as the elder Brands called them— piled into Bubba’s oversized pickup, some of them in thebed, and they headed off in the same direction, windows down. Willow shouted out the passenger side, “Don’t worry, Aunt Jess. We’ll find her!” And from the back, Trevor gave a whoop.

“Well, shoot. This isn’t gonna go well, is it?” Jessi asked as the rest of her family gathered around.

“If he lays one finger on my girl—” Lash began.

His five brothers-in-law made growly comments of agreement.

“I think the youngsters are takin’ this one,” Jessi said. “Dang, things sure do change.”

Lash put his arm around her shoulders. “And yet, they stay the same,” he said.

Maria Michele said, “You’re drivin’ me right past the church where I was s’posed to marry Billy Bob freakin’ Cantrell!” They rounded a curve in the road, and she saw her whole family gathered outside in the churchyard. “Jeeze-Louise!” She ducked way down low in the seat. “You had to gothisway?”

He slowed down even more. “Sorry. Should I turn around?”

“Just go! Stomp it!”

He did not stomp it. He did speed up a little, though.

“You said you didn’t care which way I went,” he reminded her in what she thought was a calm tone for a guy who’d been sort of car-jacked by a tattered bride in smeared makeup. “You said just keep going whichever way I was going.”

“I didn’t mean this way!” She crouched lower.

“But there were only two ways.”

“Are we past them yet?”

He adjusted the rearview mirror with his long fingers. An artist’s hands, she thought, or a musician’s. He hadn’t answered, so she looked up at his face. He was still looking into the mirror, and his sky-blue eyes were worried.

“What?” she asked.

“I think they’re coming after us,” he said.

“What?” She rose up out of her seat. Her cousin Bubba’s pickup was behind them and gaining. “Go faster!”

The little blue car picked up speed, and the driver’s hand landed on top of her head and nudged her gently. “Maybe stay down,” he suggested. Then he asked, “What should I do? Should I just pull over?”

“No, don’t pull over! Can’t you outrun them?”

“Their engine is three times the size of mine.” He took a deep, noisy breath, then said, “There’s no way they could know you’re in this car. I have New York plates; they’d never imagine you in here with me. It doesn’t make sense.”

He let off the gas a little more, which made her want to slam her foot over his on the pedal.

“Maybe they’re after that guy,” he said, pointing ahead.

“What guy?” She popped her head up again, face-front this time.

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