Plain Trouble (7 page)

“Then don’t play matchmaker.” Bess stuck her head in the kitchen door and spied her father immersed in today’s edition of the
Bitter Springs Gazette Herald
. “You’re not very good at it.”

Pa snorted and went back to reading his paper. A knock at the door sent Bess back into the hallway. There she found Cal.
 

“There’s a horse and buggy coming up the road, ma’am,” he said as he studied the ceiling.

“Thank you, Cal.”
 

She moved toward the door, leaving her father’s ranch hand in the hall. When he followed her outside, Bess found herself in the uncomfortable position of having to make conversation with a man who seemed unable to speak.

“So you’re cousin to the Schmidts,” she finally said.

Cal nodded but offered nothing further. Bess glanced down the hill and willed Joe to hurry.
 

When Cal moved to stand beside her, Bess searched her mind to find another topic to discuss. “So,” she finally said. “How did you come to be in Bitter Springs?”

The Schmidt cousin’s face flushed bright red. “You ask a lot of questions.”

“I do?” Joe’s carriage came over the rise. Now he was close enough for her to hear the horse’s hoof beats. “I’m sorry.”

Cal looked away. “Family,” he said softly. “A man reaches a point and he needs family. Especially at Christmas time.”

“Yes,” she said slowly.
Family at Christmas time.
 

Much as she rarely admitted it, Bess missed her sisters. With Lena and Sally happily married and spread to the corners of creation with their husbands, it was hard to remember a time when they’d all been under the same roof.

A plan hatched, and Bess tucked it away for consideration after she returned from her excursion with Joe. “I think you’re right. Family’s important.”

She waved to Joe then excused herself to Cal, who glanced at his watch then back at her. “Would you tell the ranger I’ll be right back?”

“Yes’m,” he said softly. “I’ll tell him.”

Bess slipped inside and tiptoed toward the kitchen, pausing in the door to watch her father for a moment. With his spectacles affixed to the end of his nose and the graying temples he’d sported recently, it was obvious Alpheus Jones was no spring chicken.
 

And yet he certainly wasn’t too old for what the plan she hoped she could carry out.

“Pa,” she called. “Got a minute?”

“’Course I do, Bessie.” He set the newspaper back down and slid the glasses off his nose to place them atop the
Herald Gazette
. “But didn’t I hear the ranger coming up the road?”

“You did but I’ve got Cal entertaining him.” She settled on the chair beside her father. “I never got to tell you what happened when Mrs. Klein and I had our chat.”

He shook his head. “Didn’t figure I needed to know. A man’s shy of asking about what goes on among womenfolk.”

She smiled and reached to touch his hand. “I like her.”

Her father’s lifted his gaze to meet hers. “I like her too, Bessie Mae.”

“I know you do.” Bess contemplated her words before continuing. “Maybe it’s time, Pa.”

“Time?” He shook his head. “Want to explain that?”

“Not really,” she said as she rose. “Besides, I don’t think I need to.”

“Bess,” her father called when she’d reached the hallway.

She backtracked to peer around the doorframe. “What is it?”

“Stick close to the ranger, honey,” he said as he reached for his spectacles and set them in place on his nose. “You never know what’s out there, and he’s a man trained to protect a lady.”

Bess shook her head. “What sort of silliness is that? This is Bitter Springs, Texas. Nothing ever happens here.”

Chapter 8

Joe slapped the reins and set the horses to a fine trot once they left the winding ranch road for the wider avenue to town. “A fine day for a drive,” he said to the beautiful brunette at his side.

Only then did he notice Bess had worn the same yellow dress as the day he met her on this very spot in road. In the rain. With her shoulder pressed against his and the smell of flowers in her hair.

He swallowed hard and turned his attention to the road ahead. To the right was the Schmidt place. Joe made a note to call on Mr. Schmidt.
 

Though everything about Cal Schmidt had checked out, he still found it hard to let the ranch hand leave his suspect list so easily. What he couldn’t decide was whether it was because he didn’t believe the fellow was truly innocent or because to admit Cal wasn’t Pale Indian was to start believing Tommy was.

Sliding Bess a sideways look, he found her staring at him. “Where are we going?’

“I thought we’d take a drive through town first.”
 

What Joe didn’t say was he’d been asked one too many times at church last Sunday why he was still in Bitter Springs. A ranger didn’t stay in one place longer than it took to capture the bad guy unless he was either retired or…well, there wasn’t any other reason.

So, he’d decided it was time to take Alpheus Jones’ plan to heart. Though Bess didn’t know it, today was the day she’d be introduced to the people of Bitter Springs as Joe Mueller’s potential sweetheart.

He sighed. Something about the ruse didn’t set right with him, but he was unwilling to try and figure out which part.
 

If Bess wondered why a glorious day that could be spent in the country would involve the busy streets of Bitter Springs, she didn’t let on. Rather she smiled, toyed with her bonnet strings, and then leaned back to lift her face to the sun.

Maybe Tommy was right. Maybe he had been carrying a torch for Bess Jones since grade school. His heart sure did a flip-flop when he looked at her. And she was a fine woman from a fine family.

What was it her pa said? A Ranger in possession of a good salary and a desk job was surely going to start thinking about a wife. Was he?

No.
Not when Pale Indian had yet to be caught.

* * *

Joe was awfully quiet. He’d hardly spoken on the drive to town.
 

Now with the buildings of Bitter Springs in view, he seemed no more inclined to conversation. Abruptly, he pulled up on the reins and guided the horses to a stop in a sunny outcropping well off the road. From there she could see the town in the valley below and the shimmering water of the Guadalupe River.

“I owe you an apology, Bess.”

“Another one?” she asked lightly. “This has become quite the habit of yours.”

It was flirting, plain and simple, and Bess felt the fool as soon as the ridiculous statement was out. What business did a twenty-seven-year-old spinster have playing the coquette to a broad-shouldered Texas Ranger?

He gestured toward town, seemingly oblivious to her silliness. “I have a selfish reason for taking this route.”

“Oh?”

A nod. “I’d like it very much if everyone in Bitter Springs could see you riding by my side.”
 

“Is that so?” was the best response she could manage.
 

“It is.”

With that, he slapped the reins and set the horses back on the road toward town. As the buggy picked up speed going downhill, Bess felt her bonnet ribbons give way.

“Stop, Joe. I did it again,” she called as the bonnet flew from her head and landed somewhere behind them.
 

He hauled back on the reins and brought the horses to a stop. “What’s wrong?”

Bess pointed to her head then shrugged, again feeling like the fool. “I’ve lost my bonnet. You see, I have this habit of worrying with the ribbons and what with the wind and all, it just…oh, I’m rambling.” She leaned forward to escape the buggy only to feel Joe’s hand on her arm.
 

“Wait here and I’ll go after it.”

When Joe didn’t immediately return, Bess rose to turn around and see if she could spy him. Failing that, she slid over and took the reins to turn the buggy around. That’s when she saw him face down on a limestone ledge, his arms outstretched.

Pa’s warning came back to her now.
Stick close to the Ranger. You never know what’s out there.

“Joe,” she called. No response, so she tried again.

Now she had to choose: leave Joe and go for help or leave the buggy to help Joe. She chose the latter, bounding from the buggy with her skirts flying. Rather than announce her presence to whomever had sent the Ranger down the canyon, Bess elected to move as silently as possible as she picked her way from rock to rock until she was almost close enough to touch the still-prone Ranger.
 

From her vantage point, Bess could see that while his body remained still, his right arm seemed to be grasping at something. “Joe?” she whispered. “Are you hurt?”

This time he turned his head in her direction, his face flushed. “No. Go back to the buggy.”

Bess surveyed the situation then returned her attention to him. “But, I-”’

“The buggy, Bess. Go. Back.”

Reluctantly she nodded. Rather than retrace her steps, Bess circled around the ranger. When she reached the other side of the outcropping she realized the problem.

“You’re stuck.”

He lifted his head to stare in her direction. If this expression was what criminals saw, no wonder the ranger had such good luck catching them.
 

Swallowing hard, Bess moved forward a half step. There she could see his fist wedged between two limestone boulders, the strings of her bonnet dangling in his fingers.

“Your hand. You can’t…” Giggles threatened but she managed to tame them by looking away. “Let go of the bonnet,” she said, “and then you can pull your hand out.”

Joe shook his head.

“Stubborn man.”

His glare wasn’t as effective given his position, but he seemed not to notice.

“All right then,” she said. “I’ll have to come and fetch the bonnet.”

Bess made her way with ease over the rocky terrain, her skill honed after a lifetime of skittering up and down the hills on the ranch. In no time, she reached the ranger and thrust her hand toward the bonnet.

“Here,” she said as she snagged the yellow fabric. “I’ve got it. Now let go and-”

That’s when the rocks slid from beneath her, carrying Bess and the bonnet down the canyon.

* * *

The slide wounded Bess’s pride more than anything else. This she realized when she came to a stop against a boulder firmly embedded on the side of the hill.

She set her bonnet atop her head but hadn’t the time to tie the ribbons before Joe Mueller came bounding down the rocky incline. He caught her in his arms and held her to his chest, nearly knocking the breath out of her.

“I thought I’d lost you,” he said. “You were there and then you were just gone.”

Bess could hear his heart racing, even as hers began to match it. “I was careless,” she said as she braved a look up into his eyes. “Took a step without looking.”

“Yes.” His face was close. Too close. “You did.”

“I forgot,” she said, her voice reduced to a whisper, “to look where I was going.”

He blinked and impossibly long lashes swept high, tanned cheekbones. “Yes,” he said softly, “sometimes that’s how it happens.”

“Yes, sometimes…” Words blew away with any remaining lucid thoughts as she leaned against a broad and familiar shoulder.

“Sometimes,” he echoed, “its better to go ahead and let go.”

Her last sane act was to look into his eyes. The hand that held tight to his arms should have pushed him away. Instead, she held on tight and closed her eyes.

Besides, she was a twenty-seven-year-old spinster, and nothing ever happened in Bitter Springs, Texas.

Chapter 9

It was only a kiss. That’s what Joe told himself when he repeated it.
 

Twice.

From her lack of understanding of the technique, he easily deduced it was her first. And second. And third.

“Bess,” he said against silky hair that indeed smelled as flowery as he remembered. “You’ve dropped the bonnet again.”

Dark eyes opened and then widened even as she tried to move backward. Pinned as she was between a rock and a ranger, there was no place to go.

Acting the gentleman was never so difficult, and yet Joe knew he must. He rose and dusted off his trousers then stepped past her to retrieve the troublesome bonnet. By the time he returned, he found Bess sitting on the rock fretting over a smudge of dirt on her dress.

Gently he set the bonnet atop her head then, with trembling fingers, tied the ribbons into some version of a bow. Doubling the strings over, the bow became a knot.

“There,” he said. “Now it won’t come off.”

Bess peered up at him, seemingly unable to move. He was about to ask if she’d somehow been injured in the fall or, heaven forbid, during the kiss, when she blinked hard and cleared her throat.

“Joe,” she said softly. “Why did you kiss me?”

Why indeed? Any number of reasons occurred, but Joe couldn’t find his voice. Finally, he managed a smile. “Because,” he said as he offered her his hand. “I fell.”

Dark brows gathered. “What does that mean?”

“Bess,” he said as easily as he could, “don’t ask me to explain.”

Her stare confounded him with its innocence. How long had it been since he’d met a woman like Bess Jones, let alone kissed one?

“Why not?” she asked as she let him help her to her feet.

Joe looked beyond Bess to the canyon and the Guadalupe below. From where they stood, a good part of Texas was visible.
 

No, he amended,
the
good part of Texas.

“Turn around and look at that,” he said to Bess as he steadied her with his arm around her waist. “What do you see?”

“Is that a trick question?”
 

She glanced over her shoulder at him, and he saw the bee-stung look of lips he’d only just kissed, causing him to almost forget his point. Clearing his throat, Joe forced his gaze back on the expansive landscape.
 

“That’s home, Bess.” He pointed to the horizon. “
Your
home.”

Bess stiffened in his arms. “Oh, I see what you’re saying. Well, don’t worry about me, Joe Mueller.” She whirled around, her back straight, and began making her way toward the road. “Don’t expect me to be one of those women who kisses a man then expects him to marry her. Because I’m not. I’m just not, and even a kiss like yours-”