Read Online Plots and Pans by Kelly Eileen Hake - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Kelly Eileen Hake
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range. Tucker should’ve spotted the man around the stables, mess hall, or bunks. There wasn’t anywhere else any of the hands—especially a stranger—belonged. Abruptly, Tucker realized he hadn’t checked on Desta since midday. With Ed gone on business, she was alone.
The chill traipsing down the back of his neck owed nothing to the inclement weather. Tucker surged to his feet, unholstered his pistol, and all but mowed down a cowhand when he hit the door. Not stopping to apologize or explain, he hot-footed it up to the ranch house. He almost reached the porch before making a quick decision to veer around the house to the kitchen. Tucker forced himself to move slowly and quietly, refusing to give any warning of his approach.
If something were wrong, he’d get a jump on the situation. If nothing were wrong, he didn’t want to alarm Miss Desta. After all, no lone woman wanted to be reminded of her vulnerability, and the last thing Tucker wanted to do was worry her out of sleeping until Ed got back.
Flickering light from oil lamps illuminated the kitchen window, throwing a sizeable gap between the curtains into sharp relief. Tucker slid closer, ears perked for any sign of distress. Nothing struck him as out of the ordinary, but an uneasy prickle across the back of his neck whispered a warning. That disruption, that sense of something awry without any concrete confirmation, saved his life more than once. Cattle stampeded, horses bolted, flash floods burst through barriers, and often that tingly, indefinable sense of disturbance gave the only warning.
After countless close calls, Tucker trusted that tingle—and tonight it told of trouble.
He crept onto the back porch. Unable to avoid the runoff from the overhanging eaves, Tucker ignored the chilly rainwater sluicing over his shoulders and pressed his back against the wall. Slow sideways steps brought him to the window, where a sudden burst of sound startled him.
Laughter
. He stiffened in surprise, then suspicion, as he made out more than one voice.
No longer concerned for Miss Desta’s safety, he turned to face the window, peering through the gap he’d noted in the curtains. At first all he could make out were the things he expected to see, like the stove. Its merrily burning wood fire made a fool of him for lurking in the cold rain, but Tucker resisted the urge to abandon his post and head inside. First he needed to know what he’d be dealing with. The laughter sounded feminine, but Desta was the only woman at the Bar None.
He pressed tighter against the wall and angled his line of vision toward the other half of the room.
There
. Tucker sucked in a sharp breath as he caught sight of the woman sitting with Desta.
She sat facing away from him, toward Desta, so he couldn’t see her face. At first he didn’t need to. A riot of honey-colored curls tumbled past her hips, picking up glints of red in the flickering firelight. Her dress, a spritely pale green, dipped in to reveal a trim waist. It might’ve been the way she perched on the stool, but the skirts seemed short on her. Tucker made out finely turned ankles above rosy toes. While he watched, the vision tilted her head back in another laugh.
Her glorious mane cascaded to the side, giving him a glimpse of her profile. Full lips parted in mirth, her smile generous and her amusement honest. A pert nose and strong chin told of a woman with character, though long lashes several degrees darker than her hair shaded her eyes.
The coffee he’d craved mere moments before soured in Tucker’s stomach. Here sat the disturbance he’d sensed, and now he knew his instincts were right on the money. Women—especially women who turned up where they didn’t belong—were unpredictable and problematic.
This one might be pretty as all get-out, but to Tucker, she just looked like trouble.
CHAPTER 6
G ood thing he made it his policy to meet trouble head-on.
Tucker pushed away from the wall but slid sideways past the
The chill traipsing down the back of his neck owed nothing to the inclement weather. Tucker surged to his feet, unholstered his pistol, and all but mowed down a cowhand when he hit the door. Not stopping to apologize or explain, he hot-footed it up to the ranch house. He almost reached the porch before making a quick decision to veer around the house to the kitchen. Tucker forced himself to move slowly and quietly, refusing to give any warning of his approach.
If something were wrong, he’d get a jump on the situation. If nothing were wrong, he didn’t want to alarm Miss Desta. After all, no lone woman wanted to be reminded of her vulnerability, and the last thing Tucker wanted to do was worry her out of sleeping until Ed got back.
Flickering light from oil lamps illuminated the kitchen window, throwing a sizeable gap between the curtains into sharp relief. Tucker slid closer, ears perked for any sign of distress. Nothing struck him as out of the ordinary, but an uneasy prickle across the back of his neck whispered a warning. That disruption, that sense of something awry without any concrete confirmation, saved his life more than once. Cattle stampeded, horses bolted, flash floods burst through barriers, and often that tingly, indefinable sense of disturbance gave the only warning.
After countless close calls, Tucker trusted that tingle—and tonight it told of trouble.
He crept onto the back porch. Unable to avoid the runoff from the overhanging eaves, Tucker ignored the chilly rainwater sluicing over his shoulders and pressed his back against the wall. Slow sideways steps brought him to the window, where a sudden burst of sound startled him.
Laughter
. He stiffened in surprise, then suspicion, as he made out more than one voice.
No longer concerned for Miss Desta’s safety, he turned to face the window, peering through the gap he’d noted in the curtains. At first all he could make out were the things he expected to see, like the stove. Its merrily burning wood fire made a fool of him for lurking in the cold rain, but Tucker resisted the urge to abandon his post and head inside. First he needed to know what he’d be dealing with. The laughter sounded feminine, but Desta was the only woman at the Bar None.
He pressed tighter against the wall and angled his line of vision toward the other half of the room.
There
. Tucker sucked in a sharp breath as he caught sight of the woman sitting with Desta.
She sat facing away from him, toward Desta, so he couldn’t see her face. At first he didn’t need to. A riot of honey-colored curls tumbled past her hips, picking up glints of red in the flickering firelight. Her dress, a spritely pale green, dipped in to reveal a trim waist. It might’ve been the way she perched on the stool, but the skirts seemed short on her. Tucker made out finely turned ankles above rosy toes. While he watched, the vision tilted her head back in another laugh.
Her glorious mane cascaded to the side, giving him a glimpse of her profile. Full lips parted in mirth, her smile generous and her amusement honest. A pert nose and strong chin told of a woman with character, though long lashes several degrees darker than her hair shaded her eyes.
The coffee he’d craved mere moments before soured in Tucker’s stomach. Here sat the disturbance he’d sensed, and now he knew his instincts were right on the money. Women—especially women who turned up where they didn’t belong—were unpredictable and problematic.
This one might be pretty as all get-out, but to Tucker, she just looked like trouble.
CHAPTER 6
G ood thing he made it his policy to meet trouble head-on.
Tucker pushed away from the wall but slid sideways past the
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