Plots and Pans (16 page)

“Ignorance doesn’t dismiss anyone on this ranch from using horse sense.” He broke in before he could get backed into a corner. If he didn’t head her off, Jessalyn was wily enough to claim amnesty from any rules she broke on the grounds no one told her different. “I think things’ll go smoother if we establish some ground rules.”

“Agreed. Guidelines to govern our interactions will reduce misunderstandings. I think the first, most basic issue revolves around respect.” Jessalyn got the upper hand by listing the first rule, and her smirk told him that she knew it. “When speaking with me, it is not acceptable to address me like one of your ranch hands. Handing down orders won’t work, but I’ll happily consider requests.”

He gritted his teeth to keep from correcting her. “If something puts you or anyone else in danger, or an emergency crops up, I’m not going to take the time to frame a request.”

“Emergency situations are separate,” she agreed. “But otherwise, after we lay these ground rules, any other concerns should be broached as politely and as patiently as possible.”

“I don’t hem and haw around things or have time to waste.” Tucker didn’t plan on being wrong-footed in conversation just because she didn’t like the way he said what needed to be said. “The meaning of my words holds more weight than the way they come out. Don’t overlook a valid warning for no better reason than disliking how I said it.”

“That would be childish. As I am not a child”—she threw him a peeved glance—“and you will not be trying to treat me like one, that won’t become an issue.”

“Good. Respect and good manners unless an emergency crops up. And while we’re at it, no one around here takes off without letting someone else know.” He gestured toward the wall opposite him because Jess knew it was the direction of the stable yard. “Tell me, Miss Desta, or even the stable master when you go saddle up. It lets us know when you’re safe—and if you might be in trouble.”

“That shouldn’t be a problem.” When she drew breath, he hurried to start talking before she could say something less agreeable.

“Next ground rule—a ranch is no place for frills and fussiness, but you’ll stick to essential proprieties. Wear the split skirts when you ride. Don’t loiter near the mess hall or bunkhouse, and don’t get chatty with the ranch hands. I don’t want you distracting them, and I don’t want anyone to get the idea you’re overly familiar.”

“Don’t worry.” Her sweet smile gave him an eerie chill. “I plan to keep myself far too busy to ‘loiter’ anywhere.”

J
essalyn enjoyed watching the corners of Tucker’s mouth tighten as he gave a nervous swallow. As she’d noted before, the man was intelligent. He recognized the threat wrapped up in her promise, just as she’d seen the put-down hidden in his rules.

“Busy?” he repeated. “That’s probably a good thing to discuss. How do you plan to fill your days?”

“Today’s washing clothes and, if the space between my ears is still good for anything, I figure we’ll be breaking out the needles,” Aunt Desta answered for her, giving that sense of being part of a team again. “Jessalyn’s going to want some more split skirts, since she’ll be doing a lot of riding to get familiar with the place again.”

“Thank you, Aunt Desta.” Since Tucker looked about ready to chew his own tongue, Jess figured she should cut him some slack before he hung himself. “It’s a good idea to keep close to the house until Tucker can arrange introductions with the ranch hands.”

“Right.” He looked taken aback by her thoughtfulness—or maybe just the proof that she possessed and even exercised some measure of what he called “horse sense.” “Speaking of which, I figure tonight after supper should be a good time.”

“Is this one of those rare instances I’ll be allowed in the mess hall?” She tried to keep her words light instead of sounding bitter. Even though she knew Tucker was right about keeping her distance from the men, it rankled to have places around the ranch closed to her.

Walking through the mess hall would be part of coming home for her. Tucker had no way of knowing how many meals she’d eaten and memories she’d made in that old place, but little girls traipsing along behind their father could do things grown ladies couldn’t. She’d accept that as one of the compromises.

“Yes. It’d be best if Miss Desta came along with you.” He hesitated, no longer looking her way, but at her aunt. “I know you haven’t decided to say anything to the community at large, but if she’s going to be calling you ‘aunt,’ tonight might be time to enlighten the men.”

“They don’t know?” Jess saw the way Desta’s cheeks paled and understood that she hadn’t been the only one who didn’t know she had an aunt. She and Papa kept it a secret from everybody—maybe even Ed.

For a brief moment, relief selfishly overshadowed her concern. She didn’t want things to be more difficult for Desta, but knowing that even Ed, whom Papa kept all these years and trained to take over the ranch, had been kept in the dark made her feel less alone. Now it was time to make sure Aunt Desta didn’t feel like an outsider.

“Simon and I kept it hushed when he brought me back because things were still so unsettled. You’ve been away, and even before that you probably didn’t have much of anything to do with slavery, so you can’t know about the upheaval and hard feelings of Reconstruction. Even eight years after the end of the War between the States, lots of Texas still felt plumb torn apart. It’s better now. The last six years marked a lot of progress.”

What can I say to ease her hurt?
A familiar aching caught at Jess’s chest as she realized how much she didn’t know and how much she’d never share with the people she loved. She could offer no words of understanding or even encouragement that wouldn’t come out sounding hollow and half thought out. She settled for scooting back her chair and going to catch her aunt in a tight hug.

“It’s not my decision to make, what you tell other people and what you hold private.” That’d be the first thing Jess would want to hear if their situations were reversed. Sometimes the best gift was a simple acknowledgment that a woman was more than capable of making her own choices. “And I can’t pretend I know firsthand why you and Papa made the choices you did, and I’m not going to say they were the wrong ones. But what I can say is I’m proud to claim you as my family whenever and wherever you’ll let me.”

Desta rocked a bit in her embrace, the cries she tried to hold back turning into a set of hiccups the likes of which Jess had never heard. Wrenching and loud, it sounded as though her stomach were creaking and calling to be tightened.

Without meaning to, Desta’s hiccups broke the heaviness of the conversation, and Jess giggled. Thankfully, Tucker chuckled at about the same time, and even Desta started laughing around the spasms. Between the emotion, the strength of her hiccups, and the breathlessness of her laughter, tears still shone in her eyes. But the sadness slipped away by the time she spoke again.

“I’m the one who’s proud to hear you say that, Jess.” She blotted her face with her napkin then twisted it between her hands. “What with you goin’ abroad to be trained as a fine lady, I worried a fair bit that I’d shock yore delicate sensibilities.”

“You dress up a person or a truth to look like something else, but it doesn’t change what they are.” Jess straightened up but kept a hand on her aunt’s shoulder. “Deep down I’m still a cowgirl—I’m just out of practice, is all.”

“Cowgirl?” He didn’t sound scornful or amused, just considering. All the same it struck a nerve.

“Cowgirl. Born and raised on a ranch for a dozen years,” she defended. “I’m rusty, but all things considered I’ve got half a decade more than you do.”

“First of all, I just hadn’t really heard the term before.” He held up his hands, palms out as though to forestall any further attacks. “But if there’s such a thing as a cowboy, it’s only fair. And since you mention it, I’m going to say I don’t think those first five years of yours count for too much.”

“Then that puts you about equal.” Her aunt broke in before Jess could point out that Papa put her on a horse and taught her to ride before she learned to walk.

She swallowed the argument. It seemed like they’d done an awful lot of arguing when they could be doing good instead. Her aunt spoke of people being equal—she could use that.

“You talk of people being equal.” She spoke slowly, giving Desta time to hear where she was going and head her off if she chose. “But you don’t count yourself among us. That strikes me as wrong, Aunt Desta. I don’t want you to hesitate to claim the family we’ve got living or the bequest Papa left you.”

“Folks won’t like it,” she fretted. “Once people look at you a certain way, it’s hard to change the way they think about you.”

“Tucker told me the same thing, in just about the same words, this morning. I’m supposed to guard my reputation, but for you, coming forward would be a step up.” She gentled her voice. “What are you trying to protect yourself against?”

Her aunt blew out the breath she’d been holding in a long gust, rubbing her hands along her arms as though cold. She looked like she was walking through a time half-forgotten, so Jess waited.

“Circumstances and times have changed around here, like you said.” Tucker pulled her attention back to the here and now, and Jess gave him a grateful nod. “Jessalyn stands beside you. Maybe it’s time to change the way you let folks see you?”

Desta tilted her head to the side, looking up at Jess for an encouraging smile before she confessed her deepest fear. “Maybe folks will accept it, and maybe not. I guess I have my own troubles with it. Change is hard when you don’t know where it’s gonna lead.”

Tucker led Happy Jack out of the stables with the sun rising toward noon. The day would be busy. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d let so much of a morning slide by without getting more under his belt than a hearty breakfast.

Then again, if he didn’t look at it like a normal morning, he’d tackled enough to send a stronger, smarter man straight to bed. But Tucker Carmichael didn’t get to this point in his life by being the strongest or the smartest. Stubbornness could take a man a lot further than most people suspected. Stubbornness kept you in the saddle long past the point when strength gave way to exhaustion and intellect told him to knock off for the day.

Persistence … patience … perseverance … the Bible named it lots of ways. But for Tucker, when a job needed to get done and he didn’t trust someone else to do it right—or there was no one else to try—it came down to determination. If a man asked hard enough, God granted him the ability to grit his teeth and get on with whatever needed doing.

Something always needs doing on a ranch
—enough hard work for a man to lose himself in from dawn till dusk. It kind of figured that just when things started getting routine around the Bar None, God shook the place up.

First, You took Simon home. Then, almost like You wanted to be sure I stayed on my toes, You brought his daughter home to the Bar None. It won’t come as a surprise to hear me say that my itch for activity would’ve waited until the roundup
.

Tucker hoisted himself into the saddle and opened up his running conversation with the Almighty. Some people maintained that prayer required knees on the ground and eyes screwed tight against distraction. But the way he saw it, God made man for company, and he could talk while riding. If anything, working in tandem with another of God’s creatures struck him as appropriate. The humble wonders of this world, from his trusty horse to a fresh breeze, strengthened his connection with the Creator.

I know You challenge us, and I know Jessalyn belongs here. But from where I’m sitting, it would’ve made things a lot simpler if she’d waited to come back. My guess is You’ll hear me asking for patience even more than usual during the days—and maybe weeks and months—ahead. Please help me handle the complication with a measure of Your grace. I’d also be obliged if You’d help her hurry up with settling in so things can settle back down, Lord. Thank You for getting her here safely in spite of herself. Amen
.

Tucker pointed his mount toward the north pasture and sped up. Earlier, he’d refused to let himself so much as glance at the fence. It wouldn’t help things any to antagonize Jessalyn by looking over her work and finding it wasn’t up to par. Nor did he want to encourage her by telling her she’d done a good job. Either way, he would’ve come out behind.

I’m still behind
. He rubbed the back of his neck as he spotted the first flag. For all the ground he’d gained with their new arrival—though he fought back a niggling suspicion Jessalyn didn’t see things that way—he’d done nothing else. The only to-do he could cross off his long list, if this inspection satisfied his standards, wasn’t anything he’d gotten done. Jessalyn did the work.

And, once he’d gotten past the dried blood crusting up the wire around the first patch job, he didn’t mind admitting she’d done the work well enough to pass muster. The temporary fixes would hold until he assigned a team to come out, dig up the posts, and string fresh wire. By the time he hit the saddle again, Tucker caught a smile before it could spread.