to think of anything but Jessalyn Culpepper since he’d caught sight of her through that gap in the kitchen curtains. She’d plagued his thoughts and invaded his sleep, leaving snatches of half-remembered dreams to serve as a warning when he woke up.
“I shoulda known ya sent the young’un away already.” Hank’s forehead unfurrowed, and he turned away. “Forgit I bothered ya.”
“Hold up.” Tucker tried to figure out a way to ask why Hank thought he’d sent away “the young’un” without revealing he hadn’t. Since no new grub rider stayed over in the bunkhouse or appeared for a slug of coffee, he’d be hard-pressed to explain the absence without getting into the whole story. And until he had the whole story from the women, Tucker knew better than to try. “No bother. You know I’d rather you come to me than sit on a suspicion.”
“A’ right.” Hank lifted the coffeepot and grabbed a mug. “I know you don’t hold with sending folks or critters away empty-bellied. Caught me off guard to find the mare already gone, is all.”
Tucker blinked, trying to connect this information with any type of plausible explanation and coming up empty-handed. “Gone?”
Gone
. A few moments after he’d stormed out of the mess hall. Tucker looked at the tracks leading from the barn toward the north pasture in disbelief. Hank assured him all the other horses were accounted for, and the ranch regulars had more sense than to ride a stranger’s mount. Besides, Tucker knew for a fact none of the men had headed out: old Cookie just started serving breakfast.
Within minutes, Tucker saddled his favorite mount and followed the trail. Happy Jack, known for his cheerful disposition, seemed about as pleased as his master to be pulled away from breakfast and sent on a wild-goose chase. Or a
silly-
goose chase, as things stood.
What can that fool woman be thinking?
Tucker kept a sharp eye out and urged Happy Jack to pick up the pace. For the life of him, he couldn’t figure out what drove her.
How harebrained does she have to be to sneak into the stables and ride off on her own?
He knew without so much as stopping by the house that Jessalyn hadn’t mentioned her plans to Miss Desta. Her aunt would’ve either put a stop to such madness, or if her niece proved too headstrong to listen to sense, Miss Desta would’ve gotten word to him. A lone woman would be easy prey if an unscrupulous man happened to be wandering by at the wrong moment and take an interest in her.
Ironically, given his irritation from the previous day, Tucker took some comfort from the knowledge any such man might have difficulty pegging Jessalyn Culpepper as a woman. Given the sort of getup she wore, few would guess her gender from any distance. But even that didn’t ease his mind.
She shouldn’t be out here alone
.
Whether following direct orders from Tucker or acting on their own judgment, none of the ranch hands rode out before making sure others knew where they headed, what they planned to do, and accordingly, a rough idea of when they should return. Basic common sense demanded some accountability—there were a hundred ways to get hurt or worse out here. From barbed-wire fences to ornery longhorns and even poorly placed snake holes, danger lurked around every bend.
Most riders knew the risks of the range, but the once-familiar terrain would have become foreign to Jessalyn after her years away. The thought made him wonder if maybe that was why she’d gone for a ride. Early morning offered the calmest time on a ranch, and maybe she’d wanted a quiet moment to reacquaint herself with the land.
I wouldn’t want company either
, Tucker admitted to himself. He could almost understand that she’d want to rediscover her home before the demands of the day distracted her.
But she should’ve let someone know in case she strayed too far or stayed out too long
.
Tucker offered a prayer of thanks that yesterday’s storm softened the earth. Her
“I shoulda known ya sent the young’un away already.” Hank’s forehead unfurrowed, and he turned away. “Forgit I bothered ya.”
“Hold up.” Tucker tried to figure out a way to ask why Hank thought he’d sent away “the young’un” without revealing he hadn’t. Since no new grub rider stayed over in the bunkhouse or appeared for a slug of coffee, he’d be hard-pressed to explain the absence without getting into the whole story. And until he had the whole story from the women, Tucker knew better than to try. “No bother. You know I’d rather you come to me than sit on a suspicion.”
“A’ right.” Hank lifted the coffeepot and grabbed a mug. “I know you don’t hold with sending folks or critters away empty-bellied. Caught me off guard to find the mare already gone, is all.”
Tucker blinked, trying to connect this information with any type of plausible explanation and coming up empty-handed. “Gone?”
Gone
. A few moments after he’d stormed out of the mess hall. Tucker looked at the tracks leading from the barn toward the north pasture in disbelief. Hank assured him all the other horses were accounted for, and the ranch regulars had more sense than to ride a stranger’s mount. Besides, Tucker knew for a fact none of the men had headed out: old Cookie just started serving breakfast.
Within minutes, Tucker saddled his favorite mount and followed the trail. Happy Jack, known for his cheerful disposition, seemed about as pleased as his master to be pulled away from breakfast and sent on a wild-goose chase. Or a
silly-
goose chase, as things stood.
What can that fool woman be thinking?
Tucker kept a sharp eye out and urged Happy Jack to pick up the pace. For the life of him, he couldn’t figure out what drove her.
How harebrained does she have to be to sneak into the stables and ride off on her own?
He knew without so much as stopping by the house that Jessalyn hadn’t mentioned her plans to Miss Desta. Her aunt would’ve either put a stop to such madness, or if her niece proved too headstrong to listen to sense, Miss Desta would’ve gotten word to him. A lone woman would be easy prey if an unscrupulous man happened to be wandering by at the wrong moment and take an interest in her.
Ironically, given his irritation from the previous day, Tucker took some comfort from the knowledge any such man might have difficulty pegging Jessalyn Culpepper as a woman. Given the sort of getup she wore, few would guess her gender from any distance. But even that didn’t ease his mind.
She shouldn’t be out here alone
.
Whether following direct orders from Tucker or acting on their own judgment, none of the ranch hands rode out before making sure others knew where they headed, what they planned to do, and accordingly, a rough idea of when they should return. Basic common sense demanded some accountability—there were a hundred ways to get hurt or worse out here. From barbed-wire fences to ornery longhorns and even poorly placed snake holes, danger lurked around every bend.
Most riders knew the risks of the range, but the once-familiar terrain would have become foreign to Jessalyn after her years away. The thought made him wonder if maybe that was why she’d gone for a ride. Early morning offered the calmest time on a ranch, and maybe she’d wanted a quiet moment to reacquaint herself with the land.
I wouldn’t want company either
, Tucker admitted to himself. He could almost understand that she’d want to rediscover her home before the demands of the day distracted her.
But she should’ve let someone know in case she strayed too far or stayed out too long
.
Tucker offered a prayer of thanks that yesterday’s storm softened the earth. Her
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