Plots and Pans (24 page)

He didn’t tell Ed who I am
. The realization would’ve robbed her of breath if her lungs had been working. Gratitude that Tucker would let her greet her brother on her own terms and get to see his reaction firsthand swirled against a cowardly regret.

It would’ve been so much simpler to watch from a distance
. In fact, after spending so many years on opposite shores of an ocean, a reunion from opposite sides of a wagon seemed almost like a logical progression. It made sense to close the gap in stages, leaving a little space to act as a buffer.

I might need that buffer
. Ed’s anger would be easier to bear if she had time to compose herself before facing it. A little distance now couldn’t guarantee they’d be close later.

Tucker came back around the buckboard. He looked up at her and touched the brim of his hat in a gesture of respect and reassurance. Then, without a word, he led the horses and the wagon back to the stables. Once he’d gone, Jess suddenly realized Desta had disappeared, too.

Because she wanted to give us privacy, or because she didn’t want to get caught in the middle?
As soon as Jess thought it, shame assailed her. The aunt she’d never expected had been more supportive than she could’ve hoped. If she thought Jess might need help holding her own against Ed, she would’ve stayed.

And so would Tucker
. She didn’t know why the thought crossed her mind, but Jess realized its truth in the same way she’d recognized her brother from afar. Some things went beyond what the eyes could see.

“Hello.” Ed approached the porch cautiously, as though uncertain of his own welcome. Dusty, disheveled, and sporting the unkempt beard of a man who’d spent weeks driving cattle, he looked nothing like she remembered. Jess knew he didn’t recognize her yet, and that brought on a bittersweet rush of emotion.
If I hadn’t been waiting for him to get back, would I have marked him as my brother?

She hated to admit it, but she probably would’ve walked right past him on the street. He cleared his throat, and belatedly she realized she hadn’t returned his greeting. For all he knew, a stranger stood on his porch, blocking his door and refusing to talk to him.

“Hello, Edward.” Jess thought her voice sounded thin, as though the words were squeezed through a tea strainer.

“You have me at a disadvantage, ma’am.” Ed dragged the hat from his head as though only just remembering he should do so when talking with a woman. “I’m afraid I can’t place you.”

“It’s been a long time.” Jess wanted to smile, but her face felt frozen.

He peered up at her, and now that half his face wasn’t hidden beneath his hat, Jess could see the green of his eyes.
Papa’s eyes
.

Desta shared the color, but not the same shape. Jess’s throat tightened when she spied the crinkly lines gathered around the corners of Ed’s eyes—even that was just like Papa’s. Suddenly, getting to know her brother all over again didn’t seem like something scary at all. Same eyes, same person, only older.

“How long?” Ed wanted to know. He tilted his head, looking at her face as though trying to read the answer for himself. Maybe he could, if she waited long enough.

But I’ve already waited too long. It’s past time to close the distance between us
. With that decision, Jess discovered she could move again. She gave a tentative smile and stepped forward—a step of faith in the older brother she’d adored.

“So long that the last time I saw you, your voice cracked whenever something got you excited.” She bit her lip to keep from chuckling at the sudden surge of memories. Jess saw Ed’s eyes narrow in thought then widen with recognition.

“Jessie?” Ed rushed toward her. He stopped one step below where she stood. Close enough to hug, but hesitating until she confirmed his guess.

With the stair staggering their heights, they could look each other straight in the eye. It seemed a fitting thing for their first face-to-face meeting in half a decade.

“Good to see you, Eddie.” Jess surprised herself by not holding still until he hugged her, but instead reaching for him at the same time he took the final step up the stairs to close his arms around her.

For a while they stood that way, as though a hug could reach back through the years. Maybe, if they held on tight enough, the embrace would link them back to the life they’d once shared—and help connect them to each other again.

Jess leaned in close, resting her cheek against his shoulder and reveling in the unconditional acceptance from the last member of the family she’d missed so long.
Mama’s gone. Papa went to join her while I was too far away to say good-bye … but Ed’s still here. Even better, he wants me here
.

His hand rubbed circles on her back, much the same way Mama used to soothe them when they were sick. Ed rested his chin on the top of her head, so the embrace completely enfolded her. She closed her eyes and breathed deep, wanting to both draw out the moment and draw in the sense of closeness. Her eyes flew open as reality, unpleasant and unapologetic, horned in on her reunion.

Her brother might be happy to see her and give some of the best hugs in the world, but Ed was fresh off a cattle drive … and fresh would be the last word Jess could use to describe him. Once she got past all the worry making her hold her breath, resting her cheek against his slicker didn’t seem like such a good idea anymore. He stank.

When she lifted her head, he drew back—but only to arm’s length. He cupped his hands atop her shoulders as though he needed to be able to pull her close again. Ed stared at her as though to memorize her features—or maybe he searched for the girl he’d known within the woman who’d come home.

“I can’t believe you’re home. It’s so good to have you back, Jessie.” Happiness made his volume rise with each syllable. “Last I heard from your headmistress, she’d refunded your tuition and sent you packing back to Ma’s parents. How is it you’re already here?”

“Oh, I made alternate arrangements.” Jess decided now wasn’t the time to discuss the details of those arrangements. She’d avoided going into the particulars with Tucker, and the practice in evading probing questions would serve her in good stead now. “The important thing is I’m home safe and sound and ready to help you run the Bar None.”

His brows almost hit his hairline, but Ed didn’t disagree. With one swift motion, he turned them both, keeping one arm slung about her shoulders as he guided her inside. “We’ve got a lot to talk about.”

Y
ou should’ve told me.” Ed didn’t mince words when he came to check on Tucker’s progress with the herd later that morning. Freshly bathed, shaved, and dressed in the first clean set of clothes he’d seen in weeks, Ed looked too pleased with himself to sound put out.

“Letters and telegrams wouldn’t have reached you.” Tucker didn’t bother turning from the cow he’d pulled to the side of the corral. A dry winter meant scarce forage, and the herd from Victoria proved the region hadn’t seen much rain this year. Though the whole herd looked scraggly, most would fatten up for market without any trouble if they weren’t rushed up the trail.

But this animal staggered straight past scraggly to skeletal. Tucker noticed the emaciated beast right away and earmarked her, along with others who showed signs of damaged hooves or lumps on their jaws, for a look over and possible treatment.

“I’m not talking about telegrams, and you know it, Tucker!” Ed huffed past him and strong-armed the cow into a headlock, helping wrestle her mouth open. “You could’ve answered me when I asked who she was back by the wagon, but no. My closest friend clenched his jaw shut tighter than this cow!”

“Hang on.” Tucker didn’t specify whether he meant for Ed to hold tight to the cow or to his patience, since it was hard to say which would give him more trouble. Tucker suspected the cow had wooden tongue. With the way she shook her head and tried to close her jaw, it wouldn’t be easy to keep her steady—especially since she was a drooler.

Tucker crouched down for a better look, craning his neck left and right to get a good look at the animal’s tongue and teeth. Even though the men teased him about it, every roundup he carried a pocket full of flat wooden tongue compressors he’d bought in bulk from a medical practice. If an animal needed to be cut from the herd to keep it from contaminating the food supply and spreading the sickness, Tucker saw it as pure idiocy to go poking potentially healthy specimens in the mouth with something that’d been soaking in sickness from a diseased animal.

The hardened punchers called him fussy at first, but after one season seeing their gloves caked and cracking in dried slobber flecked with blood and globs of pus, they came around to his way of thinking. It didn’t matter much to Tucker that they cared more about their gloves than good sense, so long as it got the job done.

“How’s it looking?” Ed grunted, tightening his grip. Like his father before him, he’d never been one to let personal matters interfere with tending the herd. “I didn’t see much in the way of lumps. Wooden tongue?”

“I’d say so.” The signs were there—too much drool, too little eating, and a too-big tongue—but Tucker used the compressor to verify. Sure enough, the moment the thin wood touched her tongue, the cow rolled back her eyes and shook her head as though in pain. Tucker withdrew the compressor and tossed it in the trash barrel while Ed let her loose.

“Yep. If they’d caught it back in Victoria, might’ve been able to treat her with iodine.” He didn’t bother saying the rest aloud. Ed would understand this to mean the animal was past the point of effective treatment. Together, they guided her to a small stand of woebegone cattle destined for the town butcher tomorrow. The longer they waited to be sold, the more weight they’d lose and the less money they’d fetch.

Professional interest had Ed giving the lot a once-over. “Got a lot of cases?”

Tucker nodded. “I know we didn’t have a wet winter, but the forage down there must be awful rough this year. Lump jaw and wooden tongue numbers are running high for this herd, and calves are few and far between.”

“I made him cut the price by another third on account of the calves.” Ed scowled, obviously sharing Tucker’s assumption that the owner had sold the best part of the herd elsewhere then tried to sell the remainder to the Bar None as a full brand.

“As for the sickness, usually I can spot a problem early on, but you should’ve seen this herd when we picked ’em up.”

“Worse then?” Tucker tried not to sound too incredulous, but …
I told him not to take the trade
.

“They’re a sorry sight today, but they were wince-worthy in Victoria. If they hadn’t been slow as sludge and desperate to feed, I would’ve gotten back a lot sooner.” Fast as a flash of lightning, Ed went back to his original complaint. “It would’ve been nice if you’d helped me greet Jessie properly instead of letting me flounder around, trying to figure out who she was.”

Ed grumbled, but he looked almost cheerful. Certainly better than he had for weeks before going on the grueling trip to bring in this herd. And since no self-respecting rancher within sight of this sorry herd would be smiling, that meant his reunion went well.

“She would’ve known if I told you.” Tucker forbore to mention that Jess would never have let him hear the end of it either. Ed still hadn’t spent much time with his sister, and half a dozen years had a way of dimming a man’s memory. He might not remember or realize the full force of his sister’s stubborn streak.

“So what if she suspected you’d said something?” Ed scoffed. “Jessie wouldn’t know for sure that I didn’t remember her on my own. Now we both have to live with knowing I couldn’t recognize her when she stood on our porch, waiting.”

“You have no way of knowing she would’ve recognized you,” Tucker pointed out. “That puts you on more even ground if she ever brings it up.” As if there were any doubt she’d bring it up at some point as a conversational trump card.

“Wait a sec. Did you see me riding up and say my name?”

“No. She was the one facing the drive, trying to decide whether or not she should wait for you to get home before she tackled going to church. Looked like she was deciding not to go on account of not having any mourning dresses made up since she got back.”

“Yeah!” Ed’s brows bounced down then up again to land a notch higher than where they’d started, a sign of undeniable sincerity. “The yellow threw me off! If she’d been wearing black and standing on my porch, I would’ve figured the rest out even after coming home on the tail end of a hard drive. I can mention the yellow dress if she ever teases me about today.”

“Since you’re my friend and partner, I’ll give you one warning. Be careful what you say about anything she wears. She gets awful touchy about her clothes.” He shook his head. “The thought of the whole town talking about the color of her dress is the reason she started to rethink going to church. Otherwise we would’ve been gone just long enough to have missed you.”

“Sorry about coming in on Sunday morning.” Ed rubbed a hand over his freshly shaved jaw as though not sure he liked being so bare. “Especially since you’ll be hitting the trail soon and won’t be able to get to church for a couple months.”

“Well, since she was deciding not to attend this morning, I wouldn’t have felt right leaving her alone on the ranch.” Tucker headed back toward the corral, walking around it and along the lines of the branding chute he’d just finished building. “I don’t know what all those fancy lady schools were supposed to have taught her, but your sister still sets her own notions above anything else.”

Tucker headed for the end of the branding chute. Long enough to easily hold twenty grown steers, only a handful up at the far end remained penned in. Since Ed and his crew trail branded the cattle and cropped their tails before hitting the road, the dehorning had gone fast. They’d brought the clippers out and had the horns cut down on every young bull or steer in record time. Now only the oldest, orneriest bulls remained.

Thanks to their advanced age and aggressive ways, the horns on these cattle couldn’t be cut easily—the clippers wouldn’t even fit around them. He had no choice but to chop them off, a difficult job for any man and the worst way to help a cantankerous old bull settle into his new home.