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The woman rambled on. “All I’m suggesting is that Bonnie may need additional lessons on appropriate classroom behavior. Perhaps you and your girls should schedule a conference with Miss Griffin?”
Imagining the girls’ scowling teacher, Dallas wondered what kind of crazy dust he’d snorted to have found her the least bit attractive. “As I’m sure you know, I went to this school, as did all of my brothers. My parents never had to deal with this kind of accusatory attitude.”
“You’re right,” the principal said. “When y’all attended Weed Gulch Elementary, a simple paddling resolved most issues.”
After ten more minutes of way-too-polite conversation that got him nowhere, Dallas hefted himself and his girls to their feet and said, “These two will be leaving now with me. Is there something I need to sign?”
The principal rose from her regal leather chair. “Miss Cami in the front office will be happy to show you the appropriate forms.”
WITH EVERYONE BACK AT THEIR tables, chubby fingers struggling with the letter F, Josie sat at her desk multitasking. On a good day, she managed putting happy stickers on papers, entering completion grades on her computer and eating a tuna sandwich. On this day, she had accomplished only one out of three.
What sort of excuse would the twins’ father make this time? He and the girls had been in the principal’s office for nearly an hour.
“Missus Gwiffin?” She glanced up to find Charlie Elton sporting a broken crayon. He also had several missing teeth. “I bwoke it. Sworry.”
“It’s okay, sweetie.” Taking the red oversize crayon, she peeled off the paper from the two halves. “See? Now it works again.”
“Thwanks!” All smiles, he dashed back to his table. Toothless grins were what led her to teaching. Feeling that every day she made a positive difference in her students’ lives was what kept her in the career. Which was why the tension mounting between herself and the Buckhorn twins was so troubling. Not only was her job usually satisfying, but school was her haven.
This weekend, she’d head into Tulsa. There were some school specialty stores that might have classroom management books to help with this sort of thing.
The door opened and in shuffled the sources of her seemingly constant consternation.
“Hi,” Josie said, wiping damp palms on her navy corduroy skirt. “Everything all right?”
“Daddy brought Green Bean’s jar,” Bonnie said with enough venom to take down a pit viper.
“He’s got Green Bean and said we need to get our stuff and go home.” Betsy looked less certain about their mission.
“Sure that’s what you want to do?” Josie asked, kneeling in front of the pair. “We’re learning about the letter F.”
“Let’s stay,” Betsy said in a loud whisper. “I love to color new letters.”
Bonnie shook her head.
At the door, their father poked his head in. “Get a move on, ladies. I’ve still got work to do.”
“Okay, Daddy.” Hand in hand, the girls dashed to their cubbies.
“Mr. Buckhorn…” Josie rose, approaching him slowly in hope of attracting as few little onlookers as possible. Today, the stern set of his features made him imposing. Miles taller than he usually seemed. Yet something about the way he cradled Bonnie’s pet in the crook of his arm gave him away as a closet teddy bear when it came to his girls. Trouble was, as a parent—or even a teacher—you couldn’t be nice all the time. “While the twins gather their things, could we talk?”
He gestured for her to lead the way to the hall.
With the classroom door open, allowing her a full view of her diligently working students, Josie said, “I’m sorry this incident inconvenienced you. Pets are only allowed on certain days of the year.”
“So I’ve heard.” Cold didn’t come close to describing the chill of his demeanor.
“Yes, you see, the snake itself is the least of our problems.”
“Our problems?” He cocked his right eyebrow.
“Bonnie and Betsy—well, in this case mainly Bonnie, but—”
“Hold it right there.” In her face, he whispered, “I’m sick and tired of accusations being made against my kids when their class is no doubt full of hooligans.”
“Hooligans?” Maybe it was the old-fashioned word itself, or the sight of harmless Thomas Quinn wiping his perpetually runny nose on his sleeve—whatever had brought on a grin, she couldn’t seem to stop.
“Think this is funny? We’re talking about my daughters’ education.”
“I know,” she said, sobering, trying not to notice how his warm breath smelled strangely inviting. Like oatmeal and cinnamon. “Mr. Buckhorn, I’m sorry. Really I am. I’m not sure how we’ve launched such a contentious relationship, but you have to know I only have the twins’ best interests in mind. Kindergarten is the time for social adjustments. Nipping problem behaviors before they interfere with the real nuts and bolts of crucial reading and math skills.”
“Why do you keep doing that? Implying my girls are difficult? Look at them,” he said, glancing into the room where Bonnie and Betsy had gravitated to their assigned seats and sat quietly coloring with the rest of the class. “Tell me, have you ever seen a more heartwarming sight?”
Nope. Nor a more uncharacteristic one!
Typically by this time of day, Bonnie had carried out her second or third dastardly plan. Whether freeing the inhabitants of their ant farm or counting how many pencils fit in the water fountain’s drain, the girl was always up to something. Betsy either provided cover or assisted in a speedy getaway.
“They’re even self-starters,” he boasted. “Their mother opened her own horse grooming shop. Looks to me like I have a couple of entrepreneurs on my hands.”
“I agree,” Josie was honestly able to say. The girls were already experts when it came to launching funny business. “But with all due respect, the twins are currently on their best behavior. With you here, I doubt they’ll find trouble.”
“Right. Because it’s not them causing it in the first place.”
Josie might as well have been talking to a rock wall. “My job is to make sure Bonnie and Betsy are prepared to do their best in first grade, right?”
He snorted. “Only correct thing you’ve said since I’ve been standing here.”
“All right, then—” she propped her hands on her hips and glared “—what do I have to gain by making up outrageous stories about your girls?”
The question stumped him.
“That’s right,” she continued. “A big, fat nothing. No one wants the twins to be perfect more than me. Their future behavior is a reflection of not only your parenting, but my teaching.”
“Why are you bringing me into this?” He switched Green Bean to the crook of his other arm.
Just when she thought she’d broken through the wall….
“I mentioned this to you before, but I really think it would help the situation,” she said, recalling a child development class she’d had where parents sat behind two-way mirrors, watching the differences in their children’s behavior once they’d left the room. “How about if starting tomorrow, you attend class with Bonnie and Betsy? Just for a few days.”
It wouldn’t be as idyllic as a blind study, but at least it would give her a stress-free week, plus maybe in some small way show the girls their father cared about their actions at school.
“Seriously?” He scratched his head. “What good is that going to do?”
In a perfect world, open your eyes to the scam your angels have been pulling.
AFTER DINNER, DALLAS MADE a beeline for the barn to muck stalls. He told himself it was because the horses deserved a perfectly clean environment, but the truth of the matter was that he needed time alone to think. As if listening to his mother lecture had been the price for heaping portions of her famous tuna casserole and peas, she’d yammered on and on about what pistols he and his brothers had been at school. And how she wasn’t surprised to now find his proverbial apples not falling far from the tree.
Usually the scent of straw mingled with saddle leather and horseflesh soothed his darkest moods, but this one he found hard to shake. The principal’s accusatory glare hadn’t sat well. Yes, education was important, but it wasn’t everything. After high school, some of Dallas’s friends had gone on to college, but all he and Bobbie Jo had wanted was to get married and start their family. It didn’t take a degree to learn ranching, but plenty of days spent working in brutal sun, cold and every sort of weather in between.
Lord, he missed his wife. She’d know what to do.
“Gonna be out here brooding all night?” His brother Wyatt broke the barn’s peace. Wasn’t there anywhere a man could go to be alone?
“I’m not brooding.”
“Uh-huh.” Tugging on leather gloves, Wyatt split a fresh hay bale in Thunder’s stall.
The black quarter horse snorted his thanks.
“Just saw Mom. She told me to tell you the girls are waiting on you to read them a story and tuck them in.”
“I know…” Wind whistled through the rafters, making the old building shudder.
“Then why aren’t you with them?”
Dallas stabbed his pitchfork in the meager pile of dung he’d collected in the wheelbarrow. “Beats me.”
“You gonna do it? Take the girls’ teacher up on her offer?”
Glancing at his younger brother over his shoulder, Dallas asked, “Think I should?”
Wyatt hefted another bale, carrying it to the next stall. “I asked around and Josie Griffin is an excellent educator, not prone to spinning yarns. She’s tough, yet compassionate. From what I’ve heard, always acting with her students’ best interests at heart.”
“Okay…so Miss Griffin’s a saint. That doesn’t mean she’s justified in calling my girls trouble.” Nor did it make him feel better about his wicked thoughts at the minigolf course.
“If that’s truly the way you feel, then take her up on her offer. Henry and I will handle things around here.” Henry was the ranch foreman and had been practically family since Dallas had been born.
“Not that simple,” Dallas said, putting extra effort into cleaning Buttercup’s stall. The palomino had been Bobbie Jo’s. His wife had spent hours prepping to show the horse. Brushing her coat until Dallas could’ve sworn the mare purred. “What would you say if I told you there’s a reason I don’t want to be at that school?”
“What’s more important than taking an active part in the twins’ education?”
Dallas winced. Wyatt had always had a knack for zeroing in on the heart of any matter. “That’s just it. The other night, when Bonnie and Betsy had that gaggle of girls over for a sleepover, we ran into Miss Griffin.” Sighing, he admitted, “The sight of her rear end in faded jeans just about fried my brain. Not good, seeing how the last thing I need is to be hot for teacher.”
Chapter Three
Why wasn’t Josie surprised Dallas had chosen to make a mockery of her suggestion?
Tuesday morning, on Weed Gulch Elementary’s sun-drenched front lawn stood not one pony, but two. The docile pets put up with dozens of stroking little hands. For the students who weren’t enraptured by cute creatures, there were cupcakes—dozens! Box after box of whimsically frosted treats, each sporting either plastic cowboy or cowgirl rings. In the center of the mayhem stood Dallas Buckhorn wearing jeans and a blue plaid Western shirt, accompanied by leather chaps, a Stetson hat and boots. Oh—the mere sight of him made her heart flutter, she’d give him that, but from a teaching standpoint, he’d ruined her whole day.
How was making construction paper analog clocks and then learning to read them going to top this?
“Miss Griffin!” Bonnie and Betsy ran up to her, hugging so hard around her waist that Josie nearly toppled over.
“Did you see what our daddy brought?”
“I sure did…” And we’re going to have a nice, long talk about it. “Are those your ponies?”
“Uh-huh,” Betsy said with a vigorous nod. “Mine is named Cookie because she has chocolate chip spots.”
“Mine’s Cinderella,” Bonnie noted. “Just like the princess because she has long, blond hairs.”
“Those are wonderful names.” Josie was glad she’d worn capris and sneakers as the lawn she marched across was still dew-soaked. “You two were clever to match them so well to each pony.”
“Thanks!” both girls said, skipping alongside her.
Before dashing ahead, Betsy shouted to her sister, “Come on, Cinderella pooped!”
Giggles abounded.
Thank goodness the older kids were already in class or off-color bathroom jokes would already be spreading. When it came to potty humor, fifth and sixth graders were experts.
“I’ve got a man here to clean all of this.” Josie had been so focused on what she’d say to Dallas that she hadn’t noticed he’d come up beside her.
Hand to her chest, she said, “You startled me.”
“Sorry.” Nodding toward the shrieking kids, he added, “I knew the ponies would be a hit, but I didn’t expect a riot.”
“When it comes to kindergarteners, it doesn’t take much.”
“I’m seeing.” His smile rocketed through her. Despite his many faults, he was undeniably handsome. Never more so than now. It was clear he belonged outside. The sun lightening his Buckhorn-blue eyes. Glancing over his shoulder, he signaled to an older man who knelt alongside Bonnie, helping her with her pet.
“Yeah, boss?” The man’s easy smile, laugh lines at the corners of brown eyes and weathered skin had Josie guessing him to be in his mid-fifties. His playful spirit around the kids made him seem much younger. Like Dallas, he wore Western wear complete with a cowboy hat.
“Josie Griffin, meet Henry Pohl. He’s worked our ranch longer than I’ve been alive.”
Shaking Josie’s hand, the man winked. “I wouldn’t say it was that long. You are getting a tad long in the tooth.”
In under twenty minutes, Dallas was true to his word and had begun loading the ponies into a custom, miniaturized horse trailer attached to a shiny black pick-up. The Buckhorn Ranch emblem of two battling rams had been stenciled on both doors.
While settling the children into their daily routine of standing for the Pledge of Allegiance, stilling for a moment of silence and then getting out their printing paper to practice writing their new letter and number, she watched Dallas through the wall of windows overlooking the school’s front lawn.
Firmly, yet gently, he corralled the suddenly stubborn animals into their temporary home. With Henry’s help, Dallas soon had all of the cupcake liners and white bakery boxes in the trash, leaving the area looking untouched save for sneaker tracks trailing through silvery dew.
Josie’s students fidgeted and fussed. Too hyper from cupcakes and fun to want to settle into their routine. The childlike part of her she didn’t often let escape sympathized with them. Outside, it was shaping up to be a beautiful fall day. She had dreaded Dallas’s visit, but was now surprised to be anticipating his return to the room.
“YOU DO KNOW YOUR CIRCUS broke about sixteen school rules?”
Dallas took another bite of his ham and swiss sandwich and shrugged. “Way I see it, my girls need to know I’m not here to punish them. I want them and their friends to be happy I’m in for a visit.”
Josie Griffin pressed her full lips together like there was a whole lot she wanted to say, but was holding back.
“Out with it,” he coaxed, biting into a pear. It was the first one he’d had in a while. Firm, yet juicy and sweet. Kind of like he’d imagine kissing Josie would be—that is, if she’d ever erase her pucker. Not that he’d done a whole lot of thinking about kissing the teacher, but cute as she was, he wouldn’t have been normal if the notion hadn’t at least crossed his mind.
For the twenty minutes while the kids were at recess, Josie had suggested they hang out in the teachers’ lounge. The room was unremarkable save for a pleasantly efficient window air-conditioning unit and grown-up chairs. Dallas hadn’t realized how many muscles in his back could possibly ache until he’d spent his morning pretzelled into munchkin chairs.
“Since you asked…” Her eyes narrowed. Was she fixing to yell at him again? “I didn’t invite you here to throw a party, but observe your daughters in their daily setting. My hope is that they’ll soon grow comfortable enough with you being in their surroundings to revert back to their usual naughty behavior.”
“Whoa. What you’re essentially saying is that you’ve set a trap you hope they spring?”
