Plain Trouble (8 page)

“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 mind I need to make a stop at the sheriff’s office.”

“No, of course,” she said. “I’ll find something to do, so don’t worry yourself.”

In his haste to leave the buggy, Joe barely acknowledged she’d spoken. Before she could blink twice, the ranger had disappeared into the sheriff’s office leaving her sitting in the middle of Bitter Springs with a crumpled bonnet and stains on her dress.

All she could do was hide behind her bonnet and wave to anyone who might recognize her until Joe finally bounded back out onto the sidewalk with Sheriff Bauer right behind him.

“Think about my offer,” the old sheriff called.

Joe seemed to be waving him away. “Not until this is handled,” he said.

“Understood.” The sheriff looked past Joe to make eye contact with Bess. “Howdy, Miss Jones,” he called. “Nice day for a drive.”

“Yes, isn’t it, Sheriff Bauer.”

“Give my best to your pa,” he said before giving Joe one last look and disappearing inside.

“Joe,” Bess said carefully. “Is everything all right? You look troubled.”

The ranger shrugged off her question. “It’s fine, Bess. Just fine.”
 

And with that they were off, heading back to the ranch the same way they came: in silence. It took all Bess could do not to fiddle with the bonnet strings as they neared the canyon. From the looks of Joe’s expression, he could use another detour and several more kisses.

Bess sighed. And so could she.

No, she decided. Any further kissing she did with Ranger Josef Mueller would be done in such a manner that she was neither hiding nor ashamed. She’d learned her lesson during the seemingly endless time she’d sat waiting for Joe.

A woman worth kissing was a woman worth wedding. And if Joe only wanted to toy with her affections, he’d have to find someone else to kiss.

As Joe pulled the buggy to a stop in front of her house, Bess opened her mouth to tell Joe exactly that.
 

Editing the marriage part, of course, for a lady would never bring up the subject of marriage to a man, even if she were a twenty-seven-year-old spinster and he an eligible single Ranger with an uncanny ability to silence her with a kiss.

Unfortunately Pa and a half-dozen ranch hands were gathered near the barn, and Joe headed their way as soon as he lifted Bess out of the buggy and set her feet on the ground. Not even a good-bye did he spare her, the cad.

“Well,” she said loud enough for him to hear, “Of all the nerve.”
 

And with that she stormed inside even as her curiosity begged her to stay and listen to the man as they threw about words like pistol and arrest warrant.

No, she decided, as she bounded up the stairs. She could care less what anyone said about anything right now. Joe Mueller had just kissed and fled, and that was an unpardonable sin.

Throwing open her bedroom door, she aimed for her bed then found it occupied.

By Tommy Klein.

Chapter 10

“So the gun was Tommy’s after all?” Alpheus asked as his ranch hands gathered around.

“It was, and that’s what’s going to get him caught.” Joe offered the telegram to Alpheus.

 
“Says here the fellow who was caught with him in San Antone identified a flintlock pistol as Pale Indian’s weapon of choice.”
 

“Guess the fact he was facing the gallows loosened his tongue.” Joe heard a scream and ran. “Bess,” he called as he threw open the front door. “Bess, where are you.”

All he heard was the ticking of the parlor clock. Then came the muffled noises and Bess’s raised voice somewhere upstairs. Joe glanced behind him and saw the ranch hands bounding up the porch steps.
 

“Wait,” he said then met them on the porch. “You three go that way and cover the back. You,” he said as he gestured to a pair of tall fellows, “one on each side of the house. The rest will cover Alpheus and me.” He paused. “You all armed?”

Satisfied they were, Joe gave them one more warning. “Keep your weapons at the ready and if anyone except me, Bess or Alpheus here comes your way and you don’t like the looks of ‘em, shoot to kill.”

Alpheus nodded his approval and the men scattered. “You thinkin’ there’s trouble with Bess?”

Joe gave the rancher a sideways look. “I’ve got a feeling there’s always going to be some kind of trouble with Bess.” He chuckled. “And likely I’m overreacting. But knowing what we know now, I’m going to have to be cautious until Klein’s in custody.”

“So he’s Klein now?” Alpheus asked. “What happened to Tommy?”

“Tommy was my friend, Alpheus. Klein’s a killer and he needs to be brought to justice.” Another muffled sound stole his attention.

“Likely she’s dropped her hairpins again,” Alpheus said. “She’s prone to doing that. Well, that and her bonnet. She worries with those ribbons until I’m surprised they don’t fall off. Always did, even as a little girl. Why her mama used to-”

A scream split the silence. Joe bounded up the stairs, grasping for his revolver. “Which room’s hers?”

Alpheus showed him. It was locked.

“Bess,” he called. “Open the door.”

Silence.

“Bess?” Joe threw his shoulder into the door twice before it flew open. There he found Bess crumpled on the floor. Beside her knelt Pale Indian.

The hat. The clothing. The Indian moccasins. All of these things he remembered from the alley behind the livery in San Antonio.

The face, he knew from childhood as his friend Tommy Klein.

Joe leveled the revolver at the Indian. “Back away from her.”

“I didn’t mean to hurt her,” Tommy said. “I was trying to get her to hear me out and she wouldn’t do it. She just kept telling me I had to leave and she wouldn’t listen.”
 

He was almost in tears now, this man Joe barely recognized. “Alpheus,” Tommy continued, “you’re why I’m here.”

Joe tore his eyes from Klein for just a moment as Bess roused. “Stay put,” he ordered her, and she either listened and complied or was unable to defy him. Joe preferred to believe the first option.

“What’ve I got to do with anything, Tommy?” Alpheus asked.

“I want you to take care of Mama.” He shook his head. “I don’t know that I’m worth getting a blessing from, but I sure would like to see you marry up with my mother. She’ll need you when I’m gone.”

“You’re not going anywhere,” Joe said, “except to face a judge and jury.”

Klein shook his head. “You know that would kill my mother. I can’t let her know what I’ve done. You can’t do that to her, Joe.”

Anger throbbed at Joe’s temples. “I didn’t do this. You landed yourself where you are.”

Tommy rose and offered up empty palms. “I’m not armed.” When there was no response, he continued. “There’s no good end to this, and I know even though you’re my friend you won’t let me go.”

“I can’t,” Joe said through clenched jaw.

“I know.” He shrugged. “You were always the good guy. Me, I liked playing bank robbers and horse thieves.”

“This isn’t play, Pale Indian,” Joe said. “This is real life, and you’ve got to pay for what you’ve done. That boy in San Antonio didn’t get a chance and neither do you.”

He dropped his hands to his side and turned his back to Joe. Their gazes collided as Joe stood firm, his pistol ready and his prayers rising.

“What’re you doin’, Tommy?” Alpheus said gently. “Can’t we just let a judge a jury settle this. Your mama’ll love you no matter what happens.”

He turned
 
and looked past Joe to Alpheus. “Yes, I know she will,” he said. “And she’ll miss me something terrible when I’m gone. Promise me you’ll take care of her, Alpheus.”

“Well, of course I will. I love your mama, son, which is why I can’t let anything-”
 

Tommy bolted toward the window and threw himself against it. Glass shattered as the window panes splintered. A volley of shots rang out, and then only silence.

Joe scooped up Bess and held her against his chest until she opened her eyes. “Did he hurt you?”

“Tommy,” she whispered. She spied her father. “Pa? Where’s Tommy?”

“Listen to me, Bess. Did he hurt you?”

She shook her head. “Of course not.”

“Then why did you scream? And how’d you end up on the floor.”

Her eyes narrowed as the feisty female he knew all too well threatened to return. “I didn’t expect to find him up here. As to ending up on the floor, that’s what happens when you trip.”

“I see.”

“So where is he? He was worried about his mama, but now he’s not here? That doesn’t make sense. And what happened there?”

Alpheus walked past her to look out what remained of the window. “Appears he fell, Bessie Mae,” he said.
 

“Fell?” She made a weak attempt to stand then gave up and sagged against Joe’s shirt. “What happened?”

Alpheus knelt beside them. “His mama mentioned he wasn’t well,” Alpheus said gently. “It appears he might have lost his balance over there by the window.” The rancher gave Joe a direct look. “Ain’t that what happened, Joe?”

Slowly, he nodded, knowing Tommy’s mother would hear the same story.
 

***

A week after Tommy Klein’s funeral, Joe packed his saddlebags and showed up on Bess’s doorstep to say good-bye. Bess tried not to cry, even as he pulled her into his arms for a kiss.
 

She’d lost track of the number somewhere between Tuesday and Friday, but she did count two more farewells before he disappeared down the trail. And one more when she caught him before he could ride away

“I’ll come home for Christmas,” he called from somewhere beyond the mesquites.

“You’d better,” she replied as she returned to her room to read the letters that would make good on her plans.

That evening at supper, Pa was grinning. “What’s got into you?” she asked as she set out the plates.

“I asked her, Bessie Mae.” His grin turned into a chuckle. “I asked Ida Klein to marry up with me soon as it was proper. Didn’t want to intrude on her grief.”

“And what did she say?”

“She said she’d marry me tomorrow, Bessie.” Another laugh. “Looks like I’m going to be a married man. Not sure I remember how.”

Bess went to hug her father. “Pa, what about a Christmas Eve wedding? The church’ll already be decorated.”

“A Christmas Eve wedding! Why, that’s a great idea.” He rose and hurried from the room.

“Where are you going?” she called.

“To tell Ida the good news.”

***

Christmas Eve dawned bright and beautiful with a chill in the air that competed for the anticipation Bess felt. She was keeping a secret that Ida, her soon-to-be-new-mama was in on.
 

While Pa went to cut the tree for the parlor, Bess made short work of completing the arrangements for the wedding. By the time the tree was up and adorned with the Jones family decorations, Bess’s nerves were stretched thin.

The only piece of her plan that hadn’t fallen into place involved Joe Mueller. Thus far she’d had neither letter nor telegram from the absent ranger. By the time she climbed into the buggy beside the groom-to-be, Bess had decided Joe wasn’t coming.