Read Online Plain Trouble by Kathleen Y'Barbo - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Kathleen Y'Barbo
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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-”
“Three kisses,” he corrected as he followed in her wake.
“Three kisses like yours,” she amended as she crossed the rocky ground as nimbly as a deer despite her womanly attire. “Nevertheless, I’m a woman of the world, Joe, and I understand that while these things happen, there’s no need to lay claim to someone just because he-”
That was where he stopped her. With a fourth kiss.
This time right there in full view of the horses, the buggy, and Cal Schmidt who happened to be riding by with his uncle, his aunt, and their eight children.
* * *
While Joe went over to shake hands with the men, Bess did her best to endure the reproachful stare of Mrs. Schmidt. A curt nod was all she could manage before slinking back to the buggy knowing every grass stain and smudge of dirt would be highly visible on the yellow frock.
From what she knew of Mrs. Schmidt’s ability to spy a misbehaving child and long distances during Sunday School, it was very likely the woman was taking inventory at this very moment. Before she came to town for tomorrow’s egg delivery, Bess would likely already be the topic of conversation, for the other thing she knew about Mrs. Schmidt was that she adored offering up juicy tidbits clothed as prayer requests.
She sank back against the cushions of the buggy seat and waited until she heard Joe’s boots approach. “I’m horrified,” she said as he slid onto the seat beside her. “I’m sorry, Joe. I don’t know what came over me. I’ve caused you quite the problem and I know it. Its just that I-”
Kiss five silenced her.
“Bess,” he said, work-roughened hands still caressing her cheeks, “if you don’t stop talking, I’m not going to be able to stop shutting you up with kisses, and then we really will have a problem.”
His expression told her he meant it.
Bess lifted her forefinger to her lips and pressed it there. A nod told him she agreed, and he responded with one of his own. Too soon, the buggy was in motion.
“What are you doing?” she asked when she felt the contraption turning back toward town. “You can’t parade me through town with a stained dress and Mrs. Schmidt’s tales leading the way.”
The ranger leaned her way and brushed her cheek with his lips. She decided that one was kiss five and a half.
“Only the guilty slink away, Bess Jones. Now sit up straight and for goodness sakes, leave those bonnet strings alone.”
Moments later, the buggy rolled into Bitter Springs with Bess doing her best impression of an innocent woman. It was just a kiss, she told herself. And likely the only ones you’ll get.
“Ranger, Ranger,” someone called.
Joe pulled up on the reins and swiveled to greet the telegraph operator. “Got something here for you,” he said before tipping his hat to Bess. “Ma’am,” he said.
She returned the greeting while she watched Joe’s eyes scan the page. A moment later, he folded the telegram and stuffed it into his pocket.
“Something wrong?” she asked.
His nod was curt, his manner giving away nothing of the man who’d just kissed her in the canyon. “If you don’t
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-”
“Three kisses,” he corrected as he followed in her wake.
“Three kisses like yours,” she amended as she crossed the rocky ground as nimbly as a deer despite her womanly attire. “Nevertheless, I’m a woman of the world, Joe, and I understand that while these things happen, there’s no need to lay claim to someone just because he-”
That was where he stopped her. With a fourth kiss.
This time right there in full view of the horses, the buggy, and Cal Schmidt who happened to be riding by with his uncle, his aunt, and their eight children.
* * *
While Joe went over to shake hands with the men, Bess did her best to endure the reproachful stare of Mrs. Schmidt. A curt nod was all she could manage before slinking back to the buggy knowing every grass stain and smudge of dirt would be highly visible on the yellow frock.
From what she knew of Mrs. Schmidt’s ability to spy a misbehaving child and long distances during Sunday School, it was very likely the woman was taking inventory at this very moment. Before she came to town for tomorrow’s egg delivery, Bess would likely already be the topic of conversation, for the other thing she knew about Mrs. Schmidt was that she adored offering up juicy tidbits clothed as prayer requests.
She sank back against the cushions of the buggy seat and waited until she heard Joe’s boots approach. “I’m horrified,” she said as he slid onto the seat beside her. “I’m sorry, Joe. I don’t know what came over me. I’ve caused you quite the problem and I know it. Its just that I-”
Kiss five silenced her.
“Bess,” he said, work-roughened hands still caressing her cheeks, “if you don’t stop talking, I’m not going to be able to stop shutting you up with kisses, and then we really will have a problem.”
His expression told her he meant it.
Bess lifted her forefinger to her lips and pressed it there. A nod told him she agreed, and he responded with one of his own. Too soon, the buggy was in motion.
“What are you doing?” she asked when she felt the contraption turning back toward town. “You can’t parade me through town with a stained dress and Mrs. Schmidt’s tales leading the way.”
The ranger leaned her way and brushed her cheek with his lips. She decided that one was kiss five and a half.
“Only the guilty slink away, Bess Jones. Now sit up straight and for goodness sakes, leave those bonnet strings alone.”
Moments later, the buggy rolled into Bitter Springs with Bess doing her best impression of an innocent woman. It was just a kiss, she told herself. And likely the only ones you’ll get.
“Ranger, Ranger,” someone called.
Joe pulled up on the reins and swiveled to greet the telegraph operator. “Got something here for you,” he said before tipping his hat to Bess. “Ma’am,” he said.
She returned the greeting while she watched Joe’s eyes scan the page. A moment later, he folded the telegram and stuffed it into his pocket.
“Something wrong?” she asked.
His nod was curt, his manner giving away nothing of the man who’d just kissed her in the canyon. “If you don’t
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