Plain Trouble Read Online Free PDF Page A

poured down his neck and soaked him to the skin.
    The woman paused on the porch to right her bonnet then gave up and tossed it aside. Hairpins went flying, revealing a length of glossy wet hair the color of mahogany. Still she held tight to that empty basket.
    Concentrate, Mueller . He still had another mile to go before the Klein house would welcome him, but at least he’d done his duty and delivered the lady to her doorstep.
    “Preciate you bringing my girl home,” Alpheus called as he ducked back onto the porch. “Come on in out of the weather.”
    Movement behind Alpheus Jones drew Joe’s attention. There in the hallway was a blond-haired man. A man who could have easily been the man on Pale Indian’s wanted poster.  

    * * *

    Even though she knew she must be leaving a trail of water puddles behind her, Bess held her head high until she reached the safety of her bedroom. Only then, with the door solidly closed, did she set the basket aside, sling the wet bonnet on the floor, and then remove her shoes and stockings.  
    Next, Bess stepped out of her skirt and dropped it beside her bonnet then fumbled with her petticoat. She’d only just washed her favorite yellow dress, and now she’d have to do it again.  
    “And look at the mud caked on the hem. I’ll be scrubbing for days to get that out.”
    Then she spied her reflection in the mirror atop her dressing table. “Of all the people to see me drenched like a wet hen, it would be Josef Mueller,” she muttered as she pushed away the reminder of what it felt to lean against his muscled shoulder, to feel his arm around her, even if it was merely to keep her from falling and tripping his horse.  
    Oh, but hadn’t the years been kind to Joe? And a Texas Ranger?  
    “Mercy,” she whispered.  
    Then came the reminder in the form of the rhyme her handsome hero had once been a schoolyard bully with a wicked ability to rhyme and wound. Another glance at the mirror confirmed the truth of it.
    “Bessie Mae, plain as day. Well, isn’t that the truth?”  
    Turning her back on the mirror, Bess made short work of changing into dry clothes then went back for her brush and wrangled her hair into submission. That feat accomplished, she walked to the window.  
    Outside the fat pellets of rain peppered the pane and obscured the familiar landscape. She pressed her finger to the glass and traced the path of a raindrop, but her mind was back at the little schoolhouse on First Street.  
    She was seven, not twenty-seven, and her papa told her almost every day that she was the prettiest girl in the second grade. Bess knew now that her father learned to braid hair from the ranch foreman’s wife, but back then she just thought he was good at braiding because he was good at everything.
    Then came Josef Mueller and she knew Pa hadn’t been truthful with her. It was the second-worst day of her life.
    “At least he’s just visiting,” Bess said as she rested her forehead on the cool glass pane. “Soon as Joe leaves, things’ll get back to normal around here.”
    Then she thought of Ida Klein and the fact her father would likely marry up with the woman sooner rather than later. Another drop traced a path down the glass quickly followed by more, this time on the inside of the pane.
    And this time they were teardrops.

Chapter 4

    Ten minutes after he deposited Bess Jones at the front door of her Pa’s house, Joe had the mare in a spare stall in the barn and was sitting at the kitchen table waiting for Alpheus Jones to pour coffee. Despite the offer of a towel, his damp clothes were sticking to him in places that made lingering uncomfortable, and there was a chill in the room.  
    Still, he had a job to do. Finding out about the blond stranger came before creature comforts.
    “You worked here long?” he asked the man who stood nervously in the doorway.
    “Today’s my first day,” he said without meeting Joe’s gaze.
    “Cal’s quite the roofer.” Alpheus sat a