Plots and Pans (23 page)

“Ten minutes!” Tucker bellowed loud enough to rattle the house windows as he pulled up the buckboard. “Or I leave without you!”

He snorted at that, knowing full well he wouldn’t dare head to church and leave the ladies behind. Not on any Sunday morning, but especially not on Jess’s first churchgoing. If she didn’t strip his hide over a move like that, Miss Desta would gladly do the honors.

For all he knew, even Ralph would side with the women. He’d spent so much time over at the house these past couple of days, Tucker wouldn’t put it past him to change camps. He handed out orders; the women served up those sweets Ralph hankered after. Maybe Ralph caught on to something. Since getting his daily ration of dessert, he’d been in such a good mood it got downright irritating at times.

For Tucker’s part, he’d gotten the branding chute built and pretty much everything ready for whenever Ed showed up. He figured it would probably be another two days, and thanks to Ralph, Tucker felt pretty good about that. They’d kept Jess safe this long; they could handle another two days. Especially with one of them a church day.
Not even Jess can get herself into trouble at church
.

It was one of those rare one-mug mornings, when a man had things well in hand without needing a few extra cups of coffee to shore him up. And given all the upset at the Bar None over the past few months—and past few days in particular—Tucker planned to relish the short-lived satisfaction of having everything under control.

Then Jessalyn stepped onto the porch to grind his sense of peace beneath the heel of her dainty dress shoes. “I’m ready!”

I’m not
. She gave a little twirl so he could take in the whole picture. She might as well have come out and punched him in the gut. From the look of her, he didn’t think the town would be ready either. It wasn’t as though he’d expected her to trot out the door in those split skirts, riding boots, hat, and braid he’d come to think of as her ranch uniform, but no one would have expected this.
Weren’t they supposed to teach her the finer points of etiquette at those fancy academies she’d stayed at for so long?

But time was running out. It looked like he’d have to point out the problem himself without damaging her delicate feelings.

“What’s that you’re wearing?” There. He’d started out with something vague and not insulting. Maybe he’d get lucky and Jess would realize she needed to change without him having to say anything specific.

“My Sunday best.” She reached back to tug her bustle into a better position. “I didn’t bring much from England, but this was my favorite dress. Lucky thing that I brought it along, really.”

Lucky?
His pulse picked up to pound at his temples. It would be bad enough that she looked like some sort of picture from a magazine come to life. The dress might be high necked, long sleeved, and hung far enough to cover everything but the tips of her toes, but that didn’t make it prim or proper. The design showcased her figure to the point Tucker wouldn’t want her wearing it in any color combination, much less today’s attention-grabbing getup.

A row of buttons dotted the bodice from the collar to her hips, drawing a man’s eye from her nipped-in waist up to the curves encased by her corset beneath. The bustle emphasized the line of her hips, meaning men would be staring at her whether she was coming up to them or leaving them behind. The fabric didn’t cling or pull, but it followed her lines in a loving manner that made a man’s hands itch to do the same.

“Lucky or not, you can’t wear that!” he burst out, unable to stay quiet at the thought of every man in town getting an eyeful of her in this getup. He worried when she ran around the ranch in those split skirts, but now he saw the true horrors ahead. After today she wouldn’t be running around under her own steam—she’d be going full-tilt trying to escape the horde of men who’d come chasing after her!

That’d be a sight to make a strong man break out in a cold sweat.

“Why not?” She planted her hands on her hips, making his eyes follow the line laid out by those blasted buttons all over again. “I can’t believe you’re criticizing my clothing yet again. It’s the gospel truth that you’d object if you found me wearing sackcloth and ashes!”

L
et’s find out. Go try that on and come back.” He knew she’d been half-joking, but Tucker wasn’t. Truth of the matter was, sackcloth and ashes would come across more appropriate than this getup.

“There’s not a thing wrong with this dress, Tucker Carmichael. It’s not so fancy that it can’t be worn into a church.” She sounded outraged and sad all at once, and Tucker felt the pinch of remorse that he’d hurt her feelings. Then she took a deep enough breath to make those buttons dance.

He just about choked on his own tongue, his remorse going the way of the buffalo. When Tucker regained enough control to speak, he tried to be kind. “It’s not because it’s too fancy, Jess. It’s because you should be in mourning for your father. This is the first time the townsfolk will see you since your childhood. You don’t want to leave them thinking you came back from England with your nose so high in the air you can’t be bothered to honor him. I know it’s not true, but that’s how folks’ll see it.”

“He’s right, and I told you the same thing.” Miss Desta finally chose to make an appearance, and Tucker didn’t know whether to glare at her for taking so long or hug her for taking his side. “So don’t open and close yore mouth like a bullfrog hopin’ for flies. Tucker might not have the prettiest manners, but his heart’s in the right place and he wants you to get the best welcome possible once we get to town.”

He gave a fervent nod but kept his mouth closed tight. When things were going his way, a man shouldn’t toss around too many words. More often than not, they tripped him up.

Jessalyn nibbled on her lower lip, lost in thought. Then she rallied. “I thought you agreed with me, Aunt Desta, that people would understand I left England as soon as I got word and haven’t had time to get mourning clothes made up. Surely it speaks well of me that I used all haste to return home?”

“O’ course it does. I’m just sayin’ Tucker didn’t think about that, and it does no good to get spittin’ mad when, in his own awkward way, he tried to do you a kindness. Not every man would speak up.” She raised a finger in warning. “You know as well as I do that even under these circumstances yore gonna have a job explainin’ away that color.”

“It’s the only church dress I brought along.” Jess smoothed a hand down the side of her skirts in evident enjoyment, and Tucker’s fingers tingled to follow suit. “It’s my favorite color.” Her voice softened, so he strained to hear it. “On the rainy days in England, it always reminded me of home.”

The comment caught at something inside him and held fast. Suddenly it didn’t matter what anybody else in the whole county thought about Jess’s dress.
It’s a fine choice. I’ll defend it to anyone who dares say otherwise
.

“I can see that.” His voice sounded like he’d been stuck in a sandstorm. “It’s cheerful.” The very words had her brightening back up.

“Like sunshine,” Jess agreed. “And summer straw, and shortcake … some of my favorite things in the world.”

Warm, sweet-smelling, welcoming things
, Tucker noticed. Each one a way to connect a different sense to what she’d missed. Sight, smell, taste … Jessalyn’s favorite things revealed how hard she’d fought against feeling homesick. It made him appreciate anew how much she loved this place.

“There’s the shoes and parasol to help sober it up,” she added, looking down at herself. “And at least the buttons are black.”

“I noticed.” He croaked the words and cleared his throat, wishing for some water. “I did notice the buttons.” Tucker ignored the look Desta threw him.

“Black and yellow like a li’l honeybee. And pretty enough to bring all the menfolk buzzing around.” Desta confirmed his worst fears. “Be careful.”

“She’s in mourning,” Tucker snapped. “If the men have any sense of respect, they’ll keep their distance until she’s had time to grieve and settle in.”

“She’s mourning, all right, but in that dress she don’t look it.” Desta raised a brow. “Men have always followed what they see first and what someone tells ’em second. You mark my words—they’ll start to swarm until she swats enough of ’em away. Even then …” Her comment trailed off, and Tucker’s thoughts followed.

Even then, she’s too pretty for them not to pester. How did I ever think Jessalyn wouldn’t find trouble in a church?
He could’ve kicked himself.
That’s where they hold weddings!

But Desta’s comments hadn’t just given him pause. Jessalyn stepped back onto the porch, closed her parasol, and fingered the ruffled edge. “This would all be so much easier if my brother were here. And if I had some time to get to the dressmaker. Maybe it would be better to wait.”

Overcome with relief at her sensible suggestion and trying not to beam from ear to ear, Tucker didn’t notice how wide her eyes got until Desta elbowed him. While he took note of Jess’s sudden stiffness, she whispered one word.

“Ed?”

At first Jess had been so wrapped up in defending her dress that she didn’t see Tucker’s objection as anything other than his perversely persistent need to insult whatever she wore.

Once she realized his concern, her indignation lessened. Whatever else she could say about Tucker Carmichael—and Jess could come up with an awful lot even after so short a time—he truly respected her father and went out of his way to honor his memory.

Then when Aunt Desta couldn’t resist making another comment about the color of her dress, Jess finally saw her inappropriate clothing as the golden opportunity she’d hoped for. Here was a valid, inarguable—since both Tucker and Desta had already made the arguments for her!—reason to wriggle out of going to church.

Under normal circumstances Jess disliked wasting a morning sitting on a hard bench, listening to another lecture. She figured she got enough of that on a daily basis, thanks to whatever academy she was stuck in. Because no matter what anyone said, that was what sermons really were—lectures. Chock full of “thou shalt nots,” which invariably sounded a lot more interesting than the much shorter group of “thou shalts.” Why was it no one in the whole wide world ever instructed in terms of “thou could if thou didst wish”?

Now that she’d gotten home, going to church was a gauntlet she didn’t want to face. All the people she’d known seven years ago, whom she might or might not recognize, trying to see whether or not they recognized her … She hadn’t considered that any of the local men might be interested in pursuing her until Tucker mentioned it. Since men outnumbered women by such a wide margin, it added to an already long list of challenges sure to be lurking in the church.

The biddies would stick up their noses at her dress, how she spoke, the fact she was proud to claim Desta as her aunt. The gossips would ask overly solicitous, stabbing questions about her long years away, searching for scandal. Worse, they’d find it. Jess and Desta decided they weren’t going to hide their relationship for even half a second. Partly because Desta already got the ball rolling back in the mess hall and didn’t want to lose momentum, but mostly because Jess knew she’d slip up and say “aunt.”

Making that announcement while Ed was away would add fuel to the flames, making people speculate that he didn’t approve. It didn’t feel as though that would be fair to her brother, but Jess couldn’t see a way around it. It also didn’t seem fair that Ed would literally be the last in town to know she’d come home, but again, she couldn’t switch the days of the week to better accommodate his arrival.

Swapping days of the week wasn’t an option, but thanks to her dress, swapping the week itself was something she
could
arrange. It went to show there were more benefits to packing light than she’d ever suspected. The more she thought about it, the more relieved and excited she became. By staying behind when Tucker and everyone else went to church, she’d have the Bar None all to herself. It seemed like the perfect reward for holding her peace over what she liked to call the Great Garden Plot.

I can go anywhere I want with no one to stop me
.

When she started to say that she’d rather wait for her brother, she spotted a lone rider making his way up the drive. The figure headed toward the stables, but suddenly veered to the left and made his way toward the house. Jess figured he’d seen the buckboard.

“Ed.” She whispered his name, unsure why she felt so certain, but nevertheless knowing it all the way through her bones.
My brother’s come home
.

Jess watched him ride up as if frozen, unable to move a muscle or even repeat his name. Dimly, she realized Desta noticed her reaction first, then Tucker. By the time they figured out she wasn’t the one they should be looking at, Ed had all but reached them.

“Ed!” Tucker boomed out.

When she finally convinced one of her feet to move, Jess considered slipping into the house while the men greeted each other. But it was too late. The bright dress that should have been her saving grace became a beacon. She saw her brother gesture toward her, saw the awkwardness of Tucker’s stance, the pause before he shook his head.