Plots and Pans (38 page)

“
Most
men.” Jess’s raised brow said her niece caught on, and planned to give as good as she got. Jess shaded her eyes, peering toward an advancing rider before adding, “Though Ralph might have an edge.”

“Point taken!” In spite of Jess’s teasing, Desta straightened and smoothed her hair, squinting against the sun to spot the one man worth all the trouble of the trail.

Desta had some time before Ralph would head over to the chuck wagon. He’d see to his horse’s needs first then wash up downstream before presenting himself for a long-overdue meal.

Most of the other men came in to swap shifts earlier that morning, and they’d decided to let Quincy help his brother with the horses so Porter could rest up after suffering too much sun. This presented her with a rare moment of privacy with her niece without the pair of them gritting their teeth against the bone-jarring bounce of the wagon. Desta planned to make the most of it before Ralph stole her attention.

“What happened on yore ride yesterday to make Tucker change his ways?”

Jess sprinkled flour atop the folded-down work surface at the back of the chuck wagon, rolling out pie dough and taking her sweet time before answering blithely, “I might’ve mentioned how impossible he is in the mornings and that he has a persistent need to control everything. It looks like he decided to make a virtue out of two vices and control his morning grumpiness.”

“Now if that ain’t a prime example of taking what you’re stuck with and making the best of it, I don’t know what is!”

“
I
know.” Jess waved her rolling pin from the chuck wagon to the campfire and back again. “Every blessed meal we cook on this trail is a prime example of making the best of things!”

“And we’re mighty grateful yore so creative with yore cookery.” Ralph’s deep voice rolled across the campsite, warming Desta’s cheeks.

I thought I’d have more time!
She tossed a smile over her shoulder and hustled to the back of the wagon, ducking beneath Jess’s table and retrieving another pan of scrapple from the compartment below. Shielded from the sun by the wagon itself and the folded-down table, the nook kept the dish cool and its contents firm enough to fry.

By the time she turned back to the fire, Ralph already made himself comfortable beside it. Of all the men, only he and Tucker were permitted to take their ease by the cook fire. The others gathered around the campfire several yards away, knowing not to come between the wagon and the cook fire where the women worked.

“I see the hashed taters—but I’m smelling something I can’t pin down. Like corn mush, but more …” Ralph breathed deep, eyeing the dish she carried with enough anticipation to make her glad to be holding it.

“Scrapple, which Aunt Desta stayed up late last night getting ready for this morning. About time she rested for a minute. Make sure she sits down and eats some herself!” Jess interjected. After so many weeks on the trail, Desta deeply appreciated Jess’s consistent, cheerful ploys to let her spend time with Ralph.

“Sure thing, Miss Jess.” The glint of humor in Ralph’s dark gaze warmed her heart. “I’ll see to it she gets a good-sized portion of … whatever you called the thing that smells so good!”

“Scrapple,” Desta repeated. “Last night I browned and boiled sausage, then stirred in cornmeal sweetened with a touch o’ molasses for flavor. Spooned into pans and left to chill overnight, it firms up so I can slice and fry it quick as can be come morning.”

“Sounds like good eatin’. I’ll fetch us some water and a pair of tins and forks while you finish yore fryin’.” Eager as the man was to eat, he never stopped thinking of ways to lend a helping hand.

The air soon smelled of sausage, syrup, sweet corn, and strong coffee. By the time the scrapple browned and went crisp around the edges, Ralph toted over tins, forks, a dipper of water, two mugs of coffee, a crock of butter, and some syrup he’d snuck from the chuck drawer.

Desta raised a brow as she took in his bounty. “Good thing God gave you arms long enough and strong enough to fit yore appetite.”

“There’s always room for something special.” He quirked a brow and chuckled at the blush she felt darkening her cheeks. Settling beside her, his voice lowered to a rumble that ran straight through her. “Give me the word if you ever want to test these arms of mine, and I’ll drop everything else.”

“Ralph!” She batted his forearm, far too pleased by his forwardness to really scold him for it. No one could hear him, so no harm done.

“I’ve also got a broad set of shoulders to lean against.” He slanted his torso closer and nudged her back with one of those shoulders. His rumble of approval when she let herself lean against his strength had her swallowing a giggle. Ralph bent his head so only she could catch his words.

“And if you don’t need arms to catch you or shoulders to lean on, I’ve got ears to listen, lips for praying, and a heart happy to know yore near.”

Desta’s heart fluttered in response. After so long avoiding men, she’d finally found one who spoke to her soul. Desta tilted her head back so her whisper warmed his ear.

“It’s a mighty good thing you want me nearby, since it’s where I plan to stay. Yore heart finds its match in mine, but my arms can’t stretch half so far as yours!” She managed not to squeal with delight when he gave her a squeeze and rumbled right back.

“All the more reason to keep you close.”

“Follow me.” Tucker’s smile made it an invitation instead of an order, so Jess fell in step alongside him.

A two-word summons might not seem overly romantic, but anything that broke up the tedium of trail life seemed an adventure. And Jess found the idea of adventures with Tucker more appealing than ever before. After all, the man promised to prove himself, and he’d already made a good start this morning, almost managing to be pleasant before his coffee. Jess couldn’t help but wonder what he had in mind next.

“Where are we going?”

“Nowhere. We’re staying an extra day so Porter can recover in the shade and the cattle can bulk up on roughage. We’ll take every advantage now since we’re sure to run into some tough stretches up ahead with homesteaders.”

“Seems to be a recurring problem.” Jess felt her own frown mirror Tucker’s. “Soon there’ll be less trail to travel than detours and delays!”

“We’ve earned a rest.” He shot her a playful glance. “Yesterday wasn’t enough to let everyone enjoy some free time with the plentiful water supply hereabouts.”

“Water? Is that where you’re taking me?” She didn’t even try to conceal her eagerness. A handful of times during the past several weeks, he’d hunted out a small offshoot of a stream. Someplace with a few trees or big rocks, where he and Ralph rigged the canvas wagon coverings to give her and Desta some privacy. Cool, clear water. Strong soap. Heaven on earth.

Tucker chuckled. “One hint of a water hole, and you’re jumping like a June bug.”

“Bugs. Dust. The very reasons why every bath is a blessing!”

Tucker looked mighty pleased with himself, and Jess decided he had good reason when Desta bustled up, her smile as full as her apron.

Jess spied a hairbrush, soap, and their precious stash of clean garments. Even with the “extra” articles, Jess never felt so grubby in all her born days as she did on the trail. Nor had she ever felt so grateful to get clean. Ages ago, the academy instructors informed girls that women did not perspire—they glowed.
If that ladylike malarkey were true, by now the pair of us could light the way on a moonless night!

After days of tending cook fires beneath a blazing sun, she and Aunt Desta felt anything but glowing as they eased into the cool, clear water. With Tucker and Ralph standing watch on the other side of the canvas coverings, Jess and Desta silently washed more than a week’s worth of weariness away. They helped each other thoroughly soap up their hair, work out the suds underwater, and comb through the tangles of trail life. Jess poked her head between two canvas flaps and craned her neck until she caught sight of Tucker.

“Looked like the stream is rockier to the west, a good spot for laundering.” Cleaning their clothing came a close second to cleaning themselves. They hadn’t brought many changes of clothes, but their provisions certainly beat out any the men could claim.

“There are other nice spots hereabouts for swimming or laundry.” Tucker held up a few makeshift fishing poles. “What would you say to fishing for supper?”

“Wonderful! That way we can hang the laundry here instead of slapping it up on the wagons.” For everyone to see. Modesty didn’t take precedence over getting clothes washed and dried, but it still didn’t sit well with her to air undergarments in view of the entire outfit.

“Sounds good to me.” Ralph’s voice joined their conversation before the man stepped into view.

“We’d be happy to add your washing to ours,” Jess offered. “And since we have the area all rigged up and Desta and I will be upstream, seems only fair you and Ralph take a turn.”

Tucker looked surprised, but Ralph wasted no time agreeing to the arrangement. They made quicker work of collecting their things and washing up than the women, already finished by the time the girls rinsed and wrung everything out.

As Jess smoothed damp fabric over the makeshift laundry lines, she took advantage of the partial cover to sneak glances at Tucker. For the first time in weeks, he’d shaved properly, revealing the strong lines of his jaw and the creases at the corners of his mouth. She’d secretly wondered if his beard would scratch or tickle beneath her hand, but somehow forgot just how handsome Tucker was without his whiskers.

Flustered by her forgetfulness—and the strength of her response to Tucker’s transformation—Jess slapped a wet shirt across the line and received a face full of wet material as thanks for her efforts.

If Tucker looked like this yesterday
, she assured herself as she batted away the damp fabric,
I still wouldn’t have accepted his proposal
.

She snuck another sideways glance and admitted,
But I might not have been as quick to turn him down!

Things were looking up.

Tucker didn’t want to get ahead of himself, but he’d come a long way with Jess in less than a day. His heroic effort to be pleasant this morning earned him several smiles—even some from other members of the outfit. Then the bath he’d arranged washed away more of her defenses.

Even better, the bath washed away yesterday’s need to keep his distance. Now that he’d cleaned up, he could get as close as she allowed once he got her alone. Jess’s bare hands tempted Tucker to make up for lost time and give her the sort of hand-holding session that could only be taken seriously.

From here on out, she won’t need to ask
, he determined.
Every moment counts
.

“How about here?” She prodded a thick growth of brush with the end of her pole to reveal a shady pool.

“Perfect.” Tucker forged ahead, using his own legs and fishing pole to clear a path for her. After she’d passed, he followed, narrowly avoiding a lashing from those low-lying branches. He didn’t mind, since that brush kept the spot clear of cattle. He swiftly spread a blanket beneath the tree closest to the bank, where the ground remained firm enough for sitting.

She cast a look at the muddy bank before granting him a smile. “Good thinking on bringing along a horse blanket. I’d hate to dirty my fresh dress for a few fish!”

“It pays to be prepared, especially since my fee is so reasonable.” He remained standing, splaying his legs to keep Jess from sitting down. In response to her raised brow, he waggled his own and held out a hand.

Her eyes and mouth rounded in surprise as Jess looked at his outstretched hand. A small smile played about the corners of her lips almost immediately, and Tucker knew she’d figured out what he wanted.

“You want me to dig up the worms?” she offered sweetly.

Tucker couldn’t help but chuckle right along with her, but he stood his ground. “Think again.”

“You want me to shake your hand?”

Tucker let some of the heat of his attraction show through his gaze. “Try me.”