The Rancher's Twin Troubles (3 page)

“I agree,” Josie was honestly able to say. The girls were already experts when it came to launching funny business. “But with all due respect, the twins are currently on their best behavior. With you here, I doubt they'll find trouble.”

“Right. Because it's not them causing it in the first place.”

Josie might as well have been talking to a rock wall. “My job is to make sure Bonnie and Betsy are prepared to do their best in first grade, right?”

He snorted. “Only correct thing you've said since I've been standing here.”

“All right, then—” she propped her hands on her hips and glared “—what do I have to gain by making up outrageous stories about your girls?”

The question stumped him.

“That's right,” she continued. “A big, fat nothing. No one wants the twins to be perfect more than me. Their future behavior is a reflection of not only your parenting, but my teaching.”

“Why are you bringing me into this?” He switched Green Bean to the crook of his other arm.

Just when she thought she'd broken through the wall….

“I mentioned this to you before, but I really think it would help the situation,” she said, recalling a child development class she'd had where parents sat behind two-way mirrors, watching the differences in their children's behavior once they'd left the room. “How about if starting tomorrow, you attend class with Bonnie and Betsy? Just for a few days.”

It wouldn't be as idyllic as a blind study, but at least it would give her a stress-free week, plus maybe in some small way show the girls their father cared about their actions at school.

“Seriously?” He scratched his head. “What good is that going to do?”

In a perfect world, open your eyes to the scam your angels have been pulling.

 

A
FTER DINNER,
D
ALLAS MADE
a beeline for the barn to muck stalls. He told himself it was because the horses
deserved a perfectly clean environment, but the truth of the matter was that he needed time alone to think. As if listening to his mother lecture had been the price for heaping portions of her famous tuna casserole and peas, she'd yammered on and on about what pistols he and his brothers had been at school. And how she wasn't surprised to now find his proverbial apples not falling far from the tree.

Usually the scent of straw mingled with saddle leather and horseflesh soothed his darkest moods, but this one he found hard to shake. The principal's accusatory glare hadn't sat well. Yes, education was important, but it wasn't everything. After high school, some of Dallas's friends had gone on to college, but all he and Bobbie Jo had wanted was to get married and start their family. It didn't take a degree to learn ranching, but plenty of days spent working in brutal sun, cold and every sort of weather in between.

Lord, he missed his wife. She'd know what to do.

“Gonna be out here brooding all night?” His brother Wyatt broke the barn's peace. Wasn't there anywhere a man could go to be alone?

“I'm not brooding.”

“Uh-huh.” Tugging on leather gloves, Wyatt split a fresh hay bale in Thunder's stall.

The black quarter horse snorted his thanks.

“Just saw Mom. She told me to tell you the girls are waiting on you to read them a story and tuck them in.”

“I know…” Wind whistled through the rafters, making the old building shudder.

“Then why aren't you with them?”

Dallas stabbed his pitchfork in the meager pile of dung he'd collected in the wheelbarrow. “Beats me.”

“You gonna do it? Take the girls' teacher up on her offer?”

Glancing at his younger brother over his shoulder, Dallas asked, “Think I should?”

Wyatt hefted another bale, carrying it to the next stall. “I asked around and Josie Griffin is an excellent educator, not prone to spinning yarns. She's tough, yet compassionate. From what I've heard, always acting with her students' best interests at heart.”

“Okay…so Miss Griffin's a saint. That doesn't mean she's justified in calling my girls trouble.” Nor did it make him feel better about his wicked thoughts at the minigolf course.

“If that's truly the way you feel, then take her up on her offer. Henry and I will handle things around here.” Henry was the ranch foreman and had been practically family since Dallas had been born.

“Not that simple,” Dallas said, putting extra effort into cleaning Buttercup's stall. The palomino had been Bobbie Jo's. His wife had spent hours prepping to show the horse. Brushing her coat until Dallas could've sworn the mare purred. “What would you say if I told you there's a reason I don't want to be at that school?”

“What's more important than taking an active part in the twins' education?”

Dallas winced. Wyatt had always had a knack for zeroing in on the heart of any matter. “That's just it. The other night, when Bonnie and Betsy had that gaggle of girls over for a sleepover, we ran into Miss Griffin.”
Sighing, he admitted, “The sight of her rear end in faded jeans just about fried my brain. Not good, seeing how the last thing I need is to be hot for teacher.”

Why wasn't Josie surprised Dallas had chosen to make a mockery of her suggestion?

Tuesday morning, on Weed Gulch Elementary's sun-drenched front lawn stood not one pony, but two. The docile pets put up with dozens of stroking little hands. For the students who weren't enraptured by cute creatures, there were cupcakes—dozens! Box after box of whimsically frosted treats, each sporting either plastic cowboy or cowgirl rings. In the center of the mayhem stood Dallas Buckhorn wearing jeans and a blue plaid Western shirt, accompanied by leather chaps, a Stetson hat and boots. Oh—the mere sight of him made her heart flutter, she'd give him that, but from a teaching standpoint, he'd ruined her whole day.

How was making construction paper analog clocks and then learning to read them going to top this?

“Miss Griffin!” Bonnie and Betsy ran up to her, hugging so hard around her waist that Josie nearly toppled over.

“Did you see what our daddy brought?”

“I sure did…” And we're going to have a nice, long talk about it. “Are those your ponies?”

“Uh-huh,” Betsy said with a vigorous nod. “Mine is named Cookie because she has chocolate chip spots.”

“Mine's Cinderella,” Bonnie noted. “Just like the princess because she has long, blond hairs.”

“Those are wonderful names.” Josie was glad she'd worn capris and sneakers as the lawn she marched across was still dew-soaked. “You two were clever to match them so well to each pony.”

“Thanks!” both girls said, skipping alongside her.

Before dashing ahead, Betsy shouted to her sister, “Come on, Cinderella pooped!”

Giggles abounded.

Thank goodness the older kids were already in class or off-color bathroom jokes would already be spreading. When it came to potty humor, fifth and sixth graders were experts.

“I've got a man here to clean all of this.” Josie had been so focused on what she'd say to Dallas that she hadn't noticed he'd come up beside her.

Hand to her chest, she said, “You startled me.”

“Sorry.” Nodding toward the shrieking kids, he added, “I knew the ponies would be a hit, but I didn't expect a riot.”

“When it comes to kindergarteners, it doesn't take much.”

“I'm seeing.” His smile rocketed through her. Despite his many faults, he was undeniably handsome. Never more so than now. It was clear he belonged outside. The sun lightening his Buckhorn-blue eyes. Glancing over
his shoulder, he signaled to an older man who knelt alongside Bonnie, helping her with her pet.

“Yeah, boss?” The man's easy smile, laugh lines at the corners of brown eyes and weathered skin had Josie guessing him to be in his mid-fifties. His playful spirit around the kids made him seem much younger. Like Dallas, he wore Western wear complete with a cowboy hat.

“Josie Griffin, meet Henry Pohl. He's worked our ranch longer than I've been alive.”

Shaking Josie's hand, the man winked. “I wouldn't say it was
that
long. You are getting a tad long in the tooth.”

In under twenty minutes, Dallas was true to his word and had begun loading the ponies into a custom, miniaturized horse trailer attached to a shiny black pick-up. The Buckhorn Ranch emblem of two battling rams had been stenciled on both doors.

While settling the children into their daily routine of standing for the Pledge of Allegiance, stilling for a moment of silence and then getting out their printing paper to practice writing their new letter and number, she watched Dallas through the wall of windows overlooking the school's front lawn.

Firmly, yet gently, he corralled the suddenly stubborn animals into their temporary home. With Henry's help, Dallas soon had all of the cupcake liners and white bakery boxes in the trash, leaving the area looking untouched save for sneaker tracks trailing through silvery dew.

Josie's students fidgeted and fussed. Too hyper from
cupcakes and fun to want to settle into their routine. The childlike part of her she didn't often let escape sympathized with them. Outside, it was shaping up to be a beautiful fall day. She had dreaded Dallas's visit, but was now surprised to be anticipating his return to the room.

 

“Y
OU DO KNOW YOUR CIRCUS
broke about sixteen school rules?”

Dallas took another bite of his ham and swiss sandwich and shrugged. “Way I see it, my girls need to know I'm not here to punish them. I want them and their friends to be happy I'm in for a visit.”

Josie Griffin pressed her full lips together like there was a whole lot she wanted to say, but was holding back.

“Out with it,” he coaxed, biting into a pear. It was the first one he'd had in a while. Firm, yet juicy and sweet. Kind of like he'd imagine kissing Josie would be—that is, if she'd ever erase her pucker. Not that he'd done a whole lot of thinking about kissing the teacher, but cute as she was, he wouldn't have been normal if the notion hadn't at least crossed his mind.

For the twenty minutes while the kids were at recess, Josie had suggested they hang out in the teachers' lounge. The room was unremarkable save for a pleasantly efficient window air-conditioning unit and grown-up chairs. Dallas hadn't realized how many muscles in his back could possibly ache until he'd spent his morning pretzelled into munchkin chairs.

“Since you asked…” Her eyes narrowed. Was she fixing to yell at him again? “I didn't invite you here to throw a party, but observe your daughters in their daily setting. My hope is that they'll soon grow comfortable enough with you being in their surroundings to revert back to their usual naughty behavior.”

“Whoa. What you're essentially saying is that you've set a trap you hope they spring?”

She at least had the good graces to flush. “I would hardly call a long acknowledged child psychiatry technique a trap. More like a tool. I can sit here telling you about the girls' sins until I run out of breath, but that still won't make you a believer. I want you to catch them in action. Only then will you understand how disruptive their pranks are to my class.”

“And if they turn out to be the good kids I expect them to be?”

She damn near choked on a carrot stick. “Not that I'm a betting woman, but if I were, I'd put down a hundred on Bonnie and Betsy finding some form of trouble by the end of the day.”

“You say that with such glee,” he noted, wadding up his trash. “Like you want my daughters in hot water.”

“Far from it. They need to understand that school is for learning, not horseplay. But wait—with this morning's stunt, you've pretty much blown that lesson out of the water.”

“For the record—” he eased his legs out in front of him to cross at the ankles “—Cookie and Cinderella aren't horses, but ponies.”

J
OSIE WAS BEYOND MORTIFIED
when Thursday morning had come and gone and still the twins hadn't so much as dropped a pencil shaving. Had she been wrong about them? Overexaggerated their penchant for mischief?

“Hungry?” Dallas asked as twenty-one squirming bodies raced for the door.

“I am,” she said, motioning for the line leaders to guide them to the hand-washing station. “It's fried chicken day. Want to brave the cafeteria?”

“Is it safe?”

She laughed. “On turkey tetrazzini day,” she wrinkled her nose, “not so much, but you're actually in for a treat. Mashed potatoes and white gravy with big yeast rolls. If we're really lucky, chocolate cake for dessert.”

“I'm in.” His white-toothed grin was made brighter by faint golden stubble. Not enough time to shave before beating the first bell?

After getting everyone through the line, Josie turned to Paula the lunch lady and said, “Please give Mr. Buckhorn a double serving and put it on my tab.”

“Yes, ma'am.” Heaping on gravy, the bosom-heavy brunette asked, “How's your cat? Heard he had a sick spell.”

“Better, thanks.” Josie loved how everyone in the school was an extended family. What she lacked for company at home, she more than made up for at work. “How's Teddy's job hunt?”

“Great.” Her sixteen-year-old had been saving for a car. “He starts at the drive-in on Friday.”

“Wonder—”

“I hate you, Thomas! Take your stupid cake!”

Josie peered through the serving-line door just in time to see Bonnie fling a chocolate square at poor little Thomas Quinn. As if that wasn't bad enough, she then smashed it into his hair.

“I hate you, too!” Betsy hollered. “Bonnie's a princess and you should've just given her the stupid cake.”

“Girls, knock it off!” Dallas said, surging into the melee.

Thomas started to wail and showed no signs of letting up. “Sh-she g-got cake on my new g-glasses!”

“Let me clean those for you, bud.” Dallas set his lunch tray on the table and then took the boy's gold-rimmed frames. To Josie, he said, “Be right back.”

“Th-there's c-cake on my shirt, t-too. Mommy's gonna yell.”

“No she won't, sweetie,” Josie assured the boy. To the twins, she demanded, “What were you thinking?”

Hands on her hips, Bonnie said, “He should've just gave me that cake.”

“Yeah,” Betsy said, adopting the same pose.

“I'm Bonnie Buckhorn.” Wearing a satisfied grin, Bonnie added, “Daddy says I'm one half of a perfect bunch and that I can do whatever I want.”

After handing Thomas his freshly cleaned glasses, Dallas grabbed the collars of his daughters' matching pink T-shirts. “Ladies, we need to talk.”

 

I
F
D
ALLAS HADN'T SEEN
the whole incident with his own eyes, he never would've believed it. Steering the
girls into their quiet, dark classroom, he said, “Put your behinds in your chairs.”

“But, Daddy,” Bonnie whined, “why are we in trouble when Thomas was the one being mean?”

“We gave him cupcakes,” Betsy thoughtfully pointed out.

Dallas rubbed his throbbing forehead. “You can't just take your friend's dessert. It's wrong. And—”

“You tell us we can do whatever we want.” His eldest by a minute held his stare.

“Yes, but, hon, that doesn't give you the right to do bad things.” Was everything else his girls had been accused of true?

“We aren't bad, Daddy.” Betsy left her chair to crawl onto his lap. Bonnie soon followed.

“I'm sorry, Daddy.” Bonnie wrapped her chubby arms around his neck.

“Both of you need to get it through your pretty heads that just because you're Daddy's princesses, that doesn't give you the right to do whatever you want. At school, you have to follow the rules.”

Bonnie chimed in with, “Miss Griffin never said we couldn't put cake in Thomas's hair.”

The statement was so ridiculous, Dallas had to chuckle. “Honey, I can think of very few situations where you
should
put cake in anyone's hair.”

“Do you still love us?” Betsy asked.

Hunching over, he made growling, tickle monster noises, attacking their rib cages to the accompaniment of shrieking laughs.

Now that both girls had been scolded, it felt good to return to their usual Buckhorn family fun.

 

“W
HO WANTS COFFEE AND DONUTS
?” Friday morning, Josie halted her walk around the classroom to see Dallas and his girls wielding
snacks
.

“Me, me!” The majority of the class didn't even bother raising their hands before running over to claim their share.

Betsy and Bonnie beamed.

Thomas sank down in his chair.

“Stop!” Josie hated always being the bad guy, but this was ridiculous. “The school has a healthy snack policy and last I checked, coffee and donuts aren't on the list.”

“But it's Friday,” Dallas complained, sounding suspiciously like his daughters. “Plus,” he nodded across the room, “as an apology, my girls wanted to give a special offering to that little fella.”

If Thomas scooted much lower, he'd have dissolved into a puddle on the floor.

“I don't care if it's Christmas,” Josie argued, “you're not caffeinating my kindergarteners.”

“You're impossible.” Turning his back on her, he said to his crew, “Come on, girls.”

“Where are you going?” Josie asked, following them into the hall.

“Teachers' lounge. Or will you deny your coworkers a happy start to their weekend, too?”

Beyond furious with the man, she folded her arms and
watched them go. Unfortunately, back in the classroom, she was met with much whining and pouty stares.

Nipping that behavior, she refocused her students on their daily writing practice. When Bonnie and Betsy returned with their father, she already had their tablets and pencils ready to go.

“You're a killjoy,” Dallas noted once she sat at her desk to finish writing next week's lesson plans.

“And you're a child disguised in a grown-up's body.”

“A
man's
body,” he said with the slow grin she'd grown to alternately hate and adore. Every time he pulled this stunt, he was usually trying to get himself out of hot water. No wonder his children were such a mess. Look who they had for an example! Worse yet, Dallas wielded that grin like a weapon. Same as his daughters, he knew how to pour on the charm.

“You're impossible.”

“Thanks.” He had the gall to combine his grin with a wink.

How, she didn't know, but Josie managed to survive the morning and lunch hour and even afternoon recess without suffering a meltdown. Everywhere she went there was Dallas, being generally helpful and offering to pass out papers. Which only put her that much more on edge.

Friday afternoons, she always introduced an art project that was fun, but also worked on building a sense of community. For this week's lesson, she'd had the children draw names of a friend. Once paired up, they would then create each other's portraits with finger paint.