Plots and Pans (15 page)

While she wavered, he broke in. “No. I don’t lack authority.”

“You can claim no authority over me, but you’ve already made numerous attempts.” Irked beyond vacillating over decorum, she added, “And you
definitely
strut around here like you own the place.”

Desta’s fork clattered to the table, striking the rim of her plate. Her aunt reached for her water and took an overlarge gulp, coming up sputtering.

“Are you all right?” Tucker scooted back his chair at the same time Jess did, ready if her aunt needed a solid thump on the back.

“Fine,” Desta gasped, waving her away. “Don’t you worry none.”

“Nothing’s wrong?” Jess started to relax as Desta drank more.

“Naw, not a thing to start fussing over, Jess.” She summoned a smile, but it looked like hard work. “Don’t let me interrupt. A li’l bitty piece of egg tried sliding down the wrong pipe, is all.”

Jess dubiously took in her aunt’s flushed face, but didn’t contradict.

Tucker, on the other hand, didn’t seem inclined to do the same. His attention remained fixed on Desta even after she’d recovered, but he looked less sympathetic than … Jess couldn’t put her finger on it, but the main thing was that he didn’t look sympathetic anymore.

“Looked to me like something stuck in your craw.” Tucker could’ve been commiserating about the egg, but something still seemed off. “Are you sure it wasn’t something your niece said that struck you the wrong way? I’m sure she’d want to hear it from you.”

“No, Mr. Carmichael. She’s fine.” When Desta didn’t call him Tucker, Jess knew she’d been right about sensing an undercurrent. “And for now you don’t want my opinion iff ‘n yore actin’ briggity.”

“I think you just gave it.” Jess beamed at her aunt. An ally made for a nice, if unexpected, change.

Tucker blew out his breath in an impatient huff, fixing Desta with a beady stare. “You know that’s not what I’m getting at.”

Wait
. A chill of foreboding had Jess reaching for some coffee to help heat her insides.
Something’s going on here…
.

“Yore attitude
is
what Jess was talking ’bout,” Desta maintained, her finely carved features turning stony. For the first time, Jess realized they shared a family trait: stubbornness.

“Yep.” He leaned back in the chair, avoiding Jess’s avid stare and keeping Desta on the spot. “What exactly did she say about it?”

“That you give too many orders and strut around like …” Jess faltered. This time it wasn’t the word
strut
that caught her tongue. It was a sudden conviction that she understood the byplay between her aunt and the foreman.

Her mouth dry, she forced herself to ask. “You own the place?”

B
ut I don’t strut.” Tucker couldn’t say why he felt the need to press this point. The reasons seemed hodgepodge at best. For one thing, he honestly didn’t strut and never could abide the full-of-himself sort of fellows who did. Then, too, he didn’t like the notion that she saw him that way and wanted to change that. But mostly, it gave him a way to answer her without having to claim ownership.

He hadn’t yet accepted the shares, though Ed kept him from rejecting the bequest outright. Since his initial reaction, he’d started to reconsider the benefits of taking his place as part owner. Now, eying the mutinous expression on Jessalyn’s face, those benefits became more pronounced. As foreman, he ran the ranch but ultimately had to knuckle under to the family. As joint owner, he earned equal status with the spitfire. He’d be a fool to give up any advantage before Ed got back and they could assess the situation.

I might be a fool to give up the advantage even after Ed gets back
. Tucker considered for another minute, suddenly uncertain Ed would prove the same ally he’d been before. For all he knew, Ed’s guilt over not fetching Jessalyn in person, or even simple gratitude to have his sister back, might make him side with the women.

The uncertainty made his stomach clench, upsetting the huge breakfast he’d gobbled down mere moments before. From the look on Jessalyn’s face, she fought the same sick sort of feeling. Tucker worried for Desta’s pride … and tablecloth … for the second time that morning.

“When?” she whispered, so pale that her smattering of freckles stood out in sharp relief. “How?”

“Your father’s will.” He didn’t try to comfort her—for one thing, it would probably make her even less comfortable. For another, she had an aunt sitting not three feet away who’d do a much better job than any platitudes he could scrape together.

“Ed’s letter didn’t mention anything about the will.” She drew her napkin from her lap and laid it beside her plate, fingering its folds as though hoping to discover an explanation hidden there.

“It ain’t the sort of thing anyone wants to detail in a letter.” Desta stretched over to smooth a hand down her niece’s shoulder and upper arm. “He wrestled with every word he wrote you. It’s particularly hard to write ’bout things you ain’t come to terms with yoreself. Yore brother’s struggled since yore pa’s passing.”

“I can understand that.” Spine stiff, she leaned awkwardly into her aunt’s caress. “I assumed Papa left the Bar None to me and Ed.”

In a flash, Tucker realized that Jessalyn took the news as such a blow because she misunderstood it. At least in part. He rushed to correct her. “He didn’t disinherit you, Miss Jessalyn. I didn’t mean for you to think he split it between Ed and me.”

As stiff as she’d sat the moment before, she suddenly seemed boneless. It was a wonder she didn’t sag straight out of her chair, and Tucker figured Desta’s hand helped keep Jessalyn upright.

“Heavens, no. Simon left it to Ed first, then you second, then Tucker third.” The housekeeper slipped out of her chair to stand behind her niece—and help steady her. Her next words came out so softly Tucker wouldn’t have been able to make it out if he hadn’t already been familiar with the terms of the will. “Then some to me.”

“You’re family.” It seemed as though her aunt’s vulnerability summoned Jess’s strength when her own sadness would have sapped her. “Don’t you dare sound so small when you deserved Papa’s honor.”

And I didn’t?
Tucker bit his tongue to keep from demanding she acknowledge the worth of his own contributions. Beneath the resentment of her rejection, his logical streak told him the girl had no way of knowing what he’d done for the Bar None during the past half-dozen years. Then, too, she had every reason to assume her aunt deserved to inherit part of the family estate—particularly given the details of Desta’s inclusion in their family. A percentage of the ranch in no way made up for the circumstances of Desta’s birth, nor the way she’d lived the first half of her life.

Jessalyn’s swift support brought tears to Desta’s eyes and shamed Tucker for his self-absorbed thoughts. For now, emotion guided her opinions. Simon and Ed were the ones who’d worked alongside him and judged him worthy of joining their ranks. Their acceptance and approval should be enough for him.
More
than enough.

“Yore right.” Desta lifted her chin then slanted a sideways look from her niece to him then back again. “But you should know Tucker’s earned his stake in the Bar None. He might not be born family, but he’s proven himself time and again with the work of his hands and strength of his character. The good Lord tells us the laborer is worthy of his hire, and Tucker’s poured enough sweat into this here ranch to earn a piece. Yore brother knows it and agrees with it.”

The unexpected defense brought heat to Tucker’s cheeks. No matter that he’d been thinking along the same lines and wishing Jessalyn understood the reasoning behind Simon’s decision—hearing such praise spoken aloud made him want to change the subject.

For one thing, all this talking and thinking wore away at his belief that Simon made a mistake in portioning out the Bar None this way. With so much uncertainty swimming around the place, Tucker didn’t need to start doubting his decisions.
Especially when Miss Jessalyn’s traveled thousands of miles to doubt them for me
.

“I’m sure you’ve worked very hard on behalf of the Bar None. I never meant to imply otherwise.” Jessalyn struggled to speak around her emotion—he could tell by the careful, clipped way she shaped her words. “My surprise isn’t a reflection on you personally.”

“Understood.” He couldn’t give her a hard time when she already fought back so many feelings. Tucker gave her an encouraging grin. “I’ll give you a couple weeks around here to see how we operate firsthand before I start taking your remarks personally.”

Her nod lacked the spirit he’d already come to expect from her, but she gave a game little grin. That smile acknowledged his offer—and gave him a warning. No doubt Miss Jessalyn expected to find plenty of things to stick her nose in after she got settled.

Tucker almost looked forward to it. Given the choice between a wound-up spitfire and this silent, stricken version of Jessalyn, he’d take the former any day. Fires could be doused, but sorrowing women flooded a man’s life and carried away his peace of mind. Since she looked like the next statement could push her over the edge or make her rally, Tucker decided to bedevil the blue mood out of her.

“It won’t take long for you to see I’m not briggity and I don’t strut.” He saw her shoulders square and couldn’t resist throwing one last jab. “I’ll be happy to accept your apology when the day comes.”

“Happier than I’ll be to give it, I’m sure.” She got some starch back in her spine. “Of course, I wonder whether you’ll be able to admit it if I prove you wrong?”

“I can admit when I’m wrong,” he protested. “I just get rusty since that doesn’t happen very often.”

Her indelicate snort would have been off-putting from another female. “Well, I’m sure I can help you polish up the skill, Mr. Carmichael.”

“So long as you’re willing to let me return the favor, Miss Jess.” He shortened her name on purpose, wanting to test it on his tongue and see whether or not she’d let him get away with it.

“Miss Jessalyn will do.” Shorter than he was and from across the table, she managed to look down her nose at him like a disapproving schoolmarm. “Someone reminded me this morning that once boundaries are crossed, it’s difficult to reestablish them.”

“Good to know you’re willing and able to listen and learn.” He sat a little taller to match her, taking a particular pleasure in the fact that, for all her arguing, she’d chosen to take his warning to heart.

“You’ll discover that I’m willing and able to do many things.”

She gave her aunt a grateful smile as Desta returned to her own seat. “Though I’ve no doubt you’ll disapprove of some of my choices.”

“Most likely.” He folded his hands over his full stomach, his breakfast and his mind much more settled now that they’d gone over the hardest parts of the conversation. Truth be told, he figured he’d disapprove of almost all of her choices. Based on what he’d seen …

Tucker snapped back to attention, palms flat against the table. He’d been lulled into complacency far too easily and almost let her sidle by without giving a full accounting for her travels!

“Speaking of choices you’ve made, let’s get back to that trip of yours. I asked last night what happened to your traveling companion. Somehow that part got left out again this morning.”

“Why does it matter?” she countered. “I’m here now, safe and sound.”

“It matters because I suspect you acted on impulse and set off on your own, without letting anyone know your plans.” He stopped circling the issue and plunked it on the table.

“Even if you’re right, it’s in the past. What does it have to do with how we proceed now that I’m at the Bar None?”

“Because you did the same thing when you rode off this morning.” He fought to keep his voice level as he ticked off the pertinent points. “You abandoned basic propriety, didn’t inform anyone of your plans, and generally exposed yourself to danger while you relegated everyone else to worrying. A single incident is bad enough, but you’re establishing a pattern of impetuous decisions.”

“Careful, Mr. Carmichael.” Her voice went dangerously soft. “You’re starting to sound briggity again.”

Desta swooped in before Tucker could work his outrage into a coherent comeback. Usually he didn’t appreciate it when a woman’s mouth moved faster than a man’s mind, but he couldn’t complain this time. She rounded on her niece. “You can’t go throwing that word in the man’s face every time he opposes you, Jess. It’s not arrogant for him to hold a mirror to yore actions when you done wrong. It’s arrogant of you to try and turn it back on him.”

“Wait!” Jessalyn recoiled from her aunt’s chiding, but refused to back down. “I’m not saying it’s arrogant of him to point out where I’ve gone wrong. But he’s got no right to act as though I owed him any sort of prior notice before I made a decision or even an explanation afterward. I don’t even know the man!”

You will
. He tried not to enjoy the flash in her brown eyes, but couldn’t help admiring her spunk. Same way he couldn’t help but deplore her headstrong streak. Maybe she’d settle down now that she’d gotten home … then again, maybe she’d be a handful until her brother got back.
What are you thinking? Remember seven years ago? She was more than a handful at twelve, and she’s going to keep on that way until she’s put in the grave or she puts you there first
.

“We’re all getting to know each other. And now that you’re getting to know the way we run things around here, it’s more than reasonable for us to expect you to—”
fall in line
. Tucker caught himself before he spoke the words aloud. A comment like that, even well meaning, would be tantamount to waving something red in a bull’s face. Today none of them had the patience for that sort of bull. He groped for a substitution and finished, “compromise.”

Jessalyn traced the rim of her water glass before taking a sip. She set down the glass before responding. “What sort of compromise?”

“I’d guess we won’t know all of ’em until after the fact.” Miss Desta tapped her chin absentmindedly. “You’ll wind up breaking rules that haven’t been used or don’t even exist yet, on account of the fact there hasn’t been another woman on the ranch in so many years.”