Plots and Pans (10 page)

If she came for Ed, I’ll never get her off the Bar None. Because only a fool would send a woman like that away, and my partner is no fool
. The idea fair boggled the mind, but he couldn’t dispute the truth.
We’ll be stuck with her forever
.

“You know I’m not just talking about timetables, young lady.” Desta’s hands traveled to fist on her hips. “Tucker’s ranch foreman. He looks after everything and everyone, making sure things work as they should and stay where they belong.”

Tucker stifled a smile.
I knew I liked Miss Desta
.

“You know I belong here!” the girl cried, somehow staking a claim and pleading for acceptance in the same breath.

Her fervency struck Tucker as peculiar. A beautiful woman could make a place for herself anywhere she chose to go.
So why is she here? What makes the Bar None so special?

“Yes, you belong.” The housekeeper’s words seemed to calm her a little. “But like it or not, you’re going to throw things off around here. You’ll need Tucker to rebuild the balance.”

She spoke almost as if he weren’t present, and the intensity of the women’s interaction suddenly sent shivers down Tucker’s spine. An appalling idea snaked through his thoughts, and he reacted the way he would if facing an angry rattler.

He froze. Breath hitched in his chest, vision narrowing onto the threat as he searched for further signs of danger.

And he found them.
Golden curls and brown eyes. She speaks with an
accent,
not anger. Her determination to stay. She asks for Ed
. Now that the scales slid from his eyes, Tucker spotted so many warnings he winced at his own obtuseness.

Of course it’s her mama’s dress
. He eyed her trim figure, now knowing he’d been right. Simon Culpepper built this fine house for the fancy, foreign wife who’d wrapped him around her little finger. And her daughter turned out just as pretty and probably as manipulative.
Call her “J.” How blind could I be?

“A man doesn’t like to be wrong, but I’m hoping tonight is one of those rare times I’m holding nothing but a handful of horse feathers. Please tell me she isn’t …” He looked to Desta, hope sinking fast as she shook her head.

Dumbstruck, he turned his attention back to the woman who’d ridden onto his ranch to turn it inside out.
“Jessalyn?”

D
esta knew her niece’s arrival would turn the ranch on its ear, but she hadn’t foreseen Tucker’s reaction. From the moment the man stalked into the kitchen, all fired up over mistaking Jess for a man, the two threw sparks. Unfortunately, they seemed intent on heating up arguments, not warming up to each other.

“Yes, Tucker.” Her niece raised her chin. “I’ve come home.”

Oh, please don’t say the wrong thing
. Desta closed her eyes. If only Tucker pulled himself together enough to welcome Jess, things would smooth over.
Then they could stop looking for insults and start noticing the ways they match each other
.

“You’re supposed to be in England!” Tucker’s protest smashed that dream.

If the man has a bad taste in his mouth, it’s not from Jess’s arrival
. Desta frowned.
Hopefully he recognizes the tang of leather quick enough to pull his boot from outta his mouth
.

“That’s
your
opinion.” Her niece sniffed, sounding uppity enough to set up any cowboy’s back. “I’d say I should’ve been here long ago. I’m
supposed
to be home, with my family.”

“And we’re glad to have you here, safe and sound.” Desta shot Tucker an agree-with-me-before-you-lose-the-chance glare.

Too bad the man didn’t prove fluent in meaningful glances.

“If you traveled,” Tucker pressed, “where’s the other one?”

“The other one of what?” Jess voiced Desta’s question.

“Well, everybody knows women are like oxen—” He broke off beneath the weight of the women’s splutters, looking bemused.

“Oxen!” Desta burst out, unable to contain her horror.

Her niece protested, too. “Women are
nothing
like oxen!”

“Don’t get your dander up, ladies!” He put up his hands in a conciliatory gesture, then tried again. “You all are like ox—”

“Think careful before you continue.” Desta stopped him again, shaking with the strength of her own emotion. “No human being should be equated with a beast of burden. Never. You know what it leads to, so don’t go comparing women to livestock.”

Dimly, she noticed that Jess skirted around Tucker and slipped an arm around her shoulders. Her niece’s silent support both bolstered and destroyed her ability to say another word. Desta reached up and patted Jess’s hand, drawing and returning comfort. Logically, she knew Tucker didn’t mean any harm—the man worked a ranch and just about every waking thought in his head had to do with cattle. But some things crossed beyond logic.

“I’m so sorry.” Tucker swallowed, looking appropriately horrified by what he’d said and humbled at her reaction. “You know I didn’t mean women should be treated like animals. Please forgive me for it coming out that way, Miss Desta.”

Jess made a soothing murmur, not accepting the apology on her behalf, but trying to soften the impact for everyone. The girl showed a deep-running compassion in her handling of the situation, accepting Desta’s distress and understanding Tucker hadn’t meant to cause it. It gave Desta something more to be thankful for; otherwise she might have worried that her reaction would make things even more difficult between them. But she could rest easy. Jess wouldn’t hold Tucker’s mistake against him—or over his head—as they got to know each other.

Desta pulled herself together enough to nod so things could move on. Enough of her life had gone in service of other men’s mistakes—she didn’t pay the tithe of regret any longer and didn’t want these people to get caught in that trap either.

“It was just a fool way of trying to say ladies usually go in pairs.” Tucker looked abashed, but doggedly returned the conversation back to his main concern. “Women travel together, and I couldn’t figure out what happened to Jess’s companion.”

Now that he mentioned it, Desta could see his concern. The poor man worried for Jess and worried for the woman who’d supposedly made the journey with her. Too bad it wouldn’t settle his mind any when he found out that no such woman existed.

“After I parted ways with the stage in town, I rode up the last few miles unaccompanied.” Jess pointed out the obvious, considering how Tucker saw her arrive. But she didn’t mention anything about the thousands of miles she covered before. Her niece’s evasion confirmed Desta’s suspicions; Jess returned to the Bar None the same way she’d lived for so long—on her own.

“But before the stage got to town …,” Tucker prodded.

“Before then she traveled a long way, and I doubt it’d make for a short story.” Desta decided the time had come for her to act like an aunt and take care of things. “She’s near enough dead on her feet, and I aim to put her in bed. Come back in the morning for breakfast, when you’ve both rested up a bit.”

“In just a minute, Miss Desta. This is important.” Tucker showed no signs of leaving and every indication that he shared Desta’s suspicions. Trouble was, if Jess confirmed them, not a one of them would see a pillow that night. He’d take offense and most likely berate Jess for lack of propriety and good sense.

Desta couldn’t disagree with the sentiment—she’d praise God for the miracle of her niece’s safe arrival for years to come—but it wasn’t Tucker’s place to take her to task. He wasn’t her kin and had no say in what she did. Both of them were too tired to see straight and too stubborn to stop the inevitable fight.

“A closed mouth gathers no boots.” Desta shrugged away from Jess’s embrace. As she spoke, she swung open the door. “Since we’re all tired and liable to step on each other’s toes, we’ll see you at the breakfast table.”

For the first time in weeks, Jess didn’t jackknife awake, groping for her gun and searching her surroundings. Still, her heart pounded as she peered into the darkness, hunting any threats that managed to slip past her locked and barricaded door. Once satisfied that her precautions hadn’t been breached, she breathed easier, recognizing her surroundings.

My first morning home
. She sighed and snuggled back into the soft warmth of a clean bed. Jess breathed in the scent of soap and spice, pushing back the lurking knowledge that Papa hadn’t left the scent when he came in to check on her, as in years long past. She’d sprinkled his aftershave across the pillows last night, wanting to surround her senses with the reassurance that she’d come home.

Jess kept her eyes closed, holding tight to the memory of her father and the proof of her homecoming for a few extra heartbeats, postponing the moment she’d have to face the truth: her loving family hadn’t brought her home. Loss allowed her to sneak back before her brother could prevent it.

Now she’d have to face whatever challenges arose from her unconventional decision.

The vague thought of challenges brought to mind a handsome face, strong jaw clenched with disapproval. The image seemed so real, Jess’s eyes flew open. The empty room almost surprised her—she’d half expected to see Tucker Carmichael, shaking his head.

Vexed that the churlish foreman troubled her thoughts before she’d gotten out of bed, Jess stopped stalling. She pushed back the pillows and cautiously raised her arms overhead. Wincing, she tried not to catalogue the protests from what seemed like every muscle in her shoulders, back, and even stomach. Last night’s rain promised the sort of damp morning that wouldn’t make things any easier, so it would be slow going until movement worked away the worst of the stiffness. It made Jess seriously consider snuggling back under the covers. Besides, it seemed early even by Jess’s rise-at-daybreak standards. No hint of morning light glimmered around the curtain edges.

No one here would blame me for sneaking some extra sleep
, she mused.
For all they know, I typically languish in bed until after nine o’clock, like any other milksop miss trained in academies
.

Heaven knew she could use a chance to rest up and regroup before facing Tucker—and his questions about her improper journey home.

Agitated by the prospect of another interrogation, Jess swung her legs over the side of the bed and got to her feet. Moving gingerly in deference to a body-wide chorus of
ouch-ow-ouch-ooh
, she reached the fireplace. She carefully selected a few of the smaller pieces of wood piled on the hearth and stoked the blaze until heat reached across the stones. Jess sank into the wingback chair someone—Aunt Desta, most likely—had pushed away from its old corner by the bed and angled near the fire. She wiggled her toes, relishing the spreading warmth as she pondered what to do next.

I’m home, but how much of it will be the home I remember? How much more will have changed?
She’d known Papa wouldn’t be waiting, but a part of her still expected to hear his booming laugh. Tucker Carmichael took her by surprise, but she’d hoped to see a few familiar faces from the bunkhouse. Aunt Desta defied expectation. Never did Jess imagine she’d discover a new relation, much less a woman who brought her so much comfort alongside such controversy.

I’ve missed so much
. Jess’s heart squeezed.
There’s so much to learn, so many questions to ask, so many pitfalls to avoid…
.

Abruptly, she realized she might as well have laid back down if she planned to sit there, stung into stillness by her own musings. Shaking her head, Jess went back to considering how to spend her morning. Aside from doing as she always did and slipping out to visit Morning Glory, the only thing that occurred to her was picking up Papa’s Bible. It lay on a small table beside her, well loved.

Papa always said the Word soothed the soul and offered answers for a worried heart. She brushed her fingertips across leather worn smooth against her father’s calluses, imagining him sitting where she sat, thumbing through the treasured text. A sudden swell of loss made her breath catch.
What answers can this book offer me now?

None
. She pushed the tome to the far end of the table, salt stinging eyes still sore from last night’s tears.
The wisdom of the ages never convinced Papa to bring me home. It won’t tell me what Ed will say when he finds me here, or help me handle Tucker until then
.

Jess wrapped her arms around her chest and rocked forward, dwarfed by a dawning truth.
I’m home, but I’m still on my own
.

She rocked a few moments, letting her aching muscles distract her from the ache in her heart. The pain galvanized her, a reminder of her underlying strength. Her bruises might burrow to the bone and span clear to her soul, but she wasn’t broken. Jess moved her hands to the arms of the chair and levered herself upward.
I make my own way and stand on my own two feet, just as I always have
.

So she’d do as she’d always done and go visit Morning Glory. Jess found her soreness eased by the time she’d dressed in the blouse and skirt Desta hung up for her last night. They’d dried by the fire, residue from the rainwater leaving them somewhat stiff. No matter—Jess figured they’d loosen up along with the rest of her. By the time she’d shoved her feet into her boots and buttoned her coat against the morning chill, Jess looked almost the same as when she rode into the ranch the day before.