The Cactus Creek Challenge (15 page)

“Mary Alice, I have a special task for you. I’d like you to watch out for Mr. Wilder especially and report back to me whenever you can. Just come right down to the jail if you would. Will you do that for me?”

“Of course, Miss Bucknell. I’ll help Mr. Wilder all I can.”

“I confess, I’m a bit worried, what with your exams coming up so soon. When you come to report to the jail, I’ll give you some extra tutoring, just to make sure you don’t fall behind, all right?”

“That would be nice. Mr. Wilder is hopeless at grammar.” She blushed. “But he’s awfully nice. And the boys have been dreadfully naughty since you’ve been gone.”

“Thank you, Mary Alice, and thanks for taking care of Amanda, too. The month will go by quickly, and we can get back to normal, though there won’t be much left to the school year by the time the Challenge ends.”

Mary Alice left with her mission clear, and Cassie leaned against the side of the church. Had she done the right thing? Would she regret it if she lost the Challenge after stepping in to help Ben manage the class?

“You look as sober as I feel.” Jenny Hart drew her attention. She flicked her fan, stirring her golden curls.

“It’s been a long week.”

“You’re telling me. I guess I can cross ‘get bitten by a horse’ off my life goals list, along with ‘get blisters on my blisters.’ I’ve never ached so much in my entire life.”

“And I can cross ‘scrub out a jail cell’ off mine along with ‘get knocked on my backside in a street fight.’”

They looked at one another and laughed.

“We are a pair, aren’t we? I’ve just been bribing my class to behave themselves for another three weeks, and I enlisted one of my own students as a spy. If I didn’t know better, I’d say I just threw the competition into my opponent’s favor.”

Jenny raised her eyebrows. “And how is it going with Ben? Is he still treating you like a child?”

“Like his favorite little sister.” Cassie pulled a face. “I swear, I could stroll by that man belting out the national anthem and juggling butcher knives in my bathrobe, and he wouldn’t notice me other than to pat me on the head and tell me to run along.”

“I’d like to see you juggle.” Jenny stuck out her tongue. “At least you haven’t been yelled at by a viking, made to feel like a slob due to the state of your kitchen, and had your daughter scared half out of her skin by a giant tossing louts out of your store.”

“Carl yelled at you? And he scared Amanda?” Cassie’s hackles rose. “Where is he?”

“Now, don’t rush off to scold the poor man. In his defense, he only yelled when he found out I’d been bitten by a horse he’d told me to stay away from. And he did treat the wound for me, though he grumbled the whole time. But when he hollered, Amanda lit out like a mouse with a hawk on her tail. I actually felt bad for him. He’s been trying so hard to break through her shell, and it was working, too. But I fear he undid all his work in one instant.”

“Mary Alice says having Ben at the school has set Amanda back some, too. She still hasn’t said a word to him.” Cassie’s heart ached for the little girl and for Jenny. “I can’t even imagine what you’ve gone through that Amanda is still so traumatized.”

Jenny’s eyes grew bright, but she blinked hard. “It’s been a trial, but we’re getting better every day. A little at a time the sunshine is coming back into my life. I feel so much freer and happier here in Cactus Creek. It’s terrible to say it, but the day Robert died, I drew my first easy breath in eight years.”

“I was thinking just yesterday that you and Carl might make an interesting couple.” Cassie tested the water.

“Oh, no. I’ve no desire to travel that road once more. I refuse to ever allow any man to dominate me again, and I would never put Amanda through the agony of having to live with another man.” The certainty in her voice, the jaded edge, made Cassie’s heart break. And yet might not all her protesting mean she was fighting the notion herself?

“But all men aren’t cut from the same cloth. Carl’s a good man, and you know he would never hurt Amanda.”

“He might not mean to, but what if he did without intending it, like he scared her with his yelling? She’s so fragile, if he ever even indicated he was displeased by something she did, it would shatter her.”

Cassie had to wonder if Jenny was really talking about Amanda or projecting her own feelings on her daughter in order to keep both of them emotionally safe.

“You’ll be at dinner tonight?”

“Yes, we’re looking forward to it. It sounds like your mother has invited half the town.”

“That’s Mother.”

She’d invited the Wilders—parents and son—too. Cassie didn’t know if she was excited to see Ben again or dreading it.

Ben took off his hat and brushed the dust from his pants as he followed his folks up the steps of the Bucknell house. The place was still so new he could smell the fresh paint and wallpaper paste. Doc Bucknell had the nicest place in town. Their first house, right on Main Street, had been smaller, darker, and mostly adobe. The new house had porches and gables and enough gingerbread trim to make any woman happy.

“Come around to the back under the trees. The party got too big for the dining room.” Doc Bucknell waved them around.

Trestle tables had been set up under the trees that grew along the bank of Cactus Creek. The creek itself was up, fed by spring rains. It didn’t exactly bubble and gurgle, but there were a few ripples and eddies in the muddy brown surface that wouldn’t exist in a month or so when the water level went down.

Plenty of folks were already gathered. Carl leaned against a tree talking to Doc Bucknell’s son-in-law, Donald Penn, and his soon-to-be-son-in-law, Ralph Campion. The oldest Bucknell daughter, Louise, sat in a chair in the late-evening shade, her hand resting on her swollen middle. Donald Penn had swaggered around town like he was the first man ever to announce he had a child on the way. Ben shook his head. Though Donald didn’t smoke, he’d handed out cigars to every man he met.

Sauntering over, Ben took note of the other dinner guests. Jenny Hart stood next to Louise, Amanda tucked into the circle of her arm. He winked at the little girl and gave a low, two-fingered wave. She rewarded him with a slight smile and a flutter of her hand.

The screen door slapped, and Cassie emerged holding a platter. Before he realized what he was doing, he’d mounted the back porch steps and taken the heavy plate from her hands. “Where do you want this?”

Her cheeks were flushed, probably from the heat of the kitchen, and her eyes sparkled green in the lowering sun.

“Anywhere on the table will be fine.”

He found himself seated beside her at dinner. She had on the yellow dress she’d worn to church, and her sleeves fell back from her hands, showing her delicate wrists. The bones were so fine, he couldn’t help but compare them to his own brawny arms.

Donald leaned toward him across the table. “So, Ben, are you in any danger of winning the prize money, or will Cassie carry it off?”

“Depends on how folks feel about explosions.” He grinned. His strategy from the moment he’d scraped himself up off the schoolyard had been to meet every taunt with a smile and a joke, to downplay the incident as much as possible. “At least the school got a new privy out of the deal.”

Down at the end of the table, Dick Grabel, the owner and sole reporter for the
Cactus Creek Chronicle
, flipped open his notebook and scribbled a few lines. “I’d love to do an article on each of the Challenge contestants this year. I’ve done some preliminary interviews with Deputy Donohue and a couple of the students at the school. Tomorrow I’m interviewing Brady Hawkins from out at the Clover Leaf. I understand he and his men had some dealings with Mrs. Hart at the livery. And if they’re sober, I’ll try to get something from Melvin and Alvin Shoop.” His smile was part inquisitive, part predatory, and a ripple of unease traced its way up Ben’s neck.

Dick was known for writing some rather sharp-toned articles that left a bit of a sting and caused plenty of discussion over the checkerboard at the mercantile. His take on the happenings of the Challenge would have a strong effect on the voting public, and not just for the Challenge but for the next sheriff’s election as well. For the rest of the meal, Ben kept his attention away from the reporter, hoping he’d forget about the interview.

The meal was excellent … until it came time for dessert.

Carl, red in the face, rose, went into the kitchen, and returned with a large platter holding a tiered cake. “I’ve been practicing for this wedding coming up, and I’d like your opinion.”

The cake was a bit lopsided, and the frosting sagged a bit, but Carl’s smile broadened when he cut into it. “This is my best one yet.”

Carl handed the pieces around, and Ben took his, admiring the ruby jelly between the layers. He sank his fork into the sponge, but before he could taste it, Millie gave a squeak and dropped her fork. Jenny’s eyes widened as her lips closed around her first bite, and she slowly drew the fork from her mouth.

Cassie raised her cake plate to her nose and sniffed, then set the plate down and pushed it away.

“What?” Carl’s knife stilled.

Jenny forced her bite down, then reached for her water glass, gulping the contents. She blinked, coughed, and swallowed hard.

The big liveryman’s shoulders drooped. “It’s not good, is it? I knew it.” He left the knife sticking in the cake and sagged into his chair.

“What …” Jenny’s voice rasped and she cleared her throat. “What flavoring did you use?”

“Vanilla.” His eyebrows bunched.

“How much vanilla?”

“Just the one bottle.”

Mrs. Bucknell giggled first, then her laughter rippled down the table until all the women were engulfed.

“A whole bottle?” Cassie chortled.

“Too much?”

“By about a bottle or so.” Jenny shrugged. “A cake this size would take about a teaspoon and a half, maybe.”

Dick Grable scribbled furiously in his notebook, and Millie cast uncertain and blaming glances at her father.

Jenny removed Amanda’s slice of cake before she could taste it and sent a sympathetic smile Carl’s way. “An honest mistake. I’m sure the next cake will be flawless.”

Mrs. Bucknell rose and began clearing plates. “Ben, I wonder if you’d do me a favor.”

“Yes, ma’am. What can I do?” He pushed his dessert toward the center of the table.

“I was planning on sending Cassie over to Mrs. Pym’s,” Mrs. Bucknell said, “with some of these leftovers. Her back hasn’t been feeling too well, and it might be nice if she didn’t have to cook for a couple of days. Ben, if I pack up a basket, would you carry it over and see Cassie home?”

“Sure thing.” He stood and pulled Cassie’s chair away from the table as she rose. Jenny’s eyes sparkled, and she winked at Cassie, leaving Ben puzzled. What had he missed? His mother had a cat-who-ate-the-canary look about her, too, and wasn’t meeting Ben’s eyes. Those kinds of signals among women usually didn’t bode well for a fellow, but for the life of him he couldn’t imagine what they were hatching.

He found himself walking up a side street, a basket hooked over his arm and Cassie by his side.

“Louise is looking well.” Cassie plucked a long stem of grass from the edge of the path and feathered the seedy top through her fingers as they walked. “Donald wants her to move into town next week so she’ll be close to medical help when the baby comes. But she says it will be awkward having her dad as her doctor, and she won’t have him in the room unless something goes wrong. Louise says Mama can deliver a baby as well as Daddy can anyway. I imagine in the end, she’ll come to town, and Mama will deliver the baby, and Daddy and Donald will pace the hallway until it’s all over.”

“Donald’s about busting his buttons now. I can’t imagine what he’ll be like when he actually has a baby to hold.”

“Between the wedding coming up and the baby, it’s hard to get in a word on any other topic in our house right now. But Millie’s very serene about all the wedding plans. She says as long as she is married to Ralph at the end of the day, the rest of it doesn’t really matter. Daddy says he wishes she’d have mentioned that before he started paying for wedding gowns and flowers and her hope chest and whatnot.” She smiled and tossed the grass blade aside, raising her face to the cool evening breeze. She paused and turned to the west where the sun had set, but pink and purple and blue and golden splashes still decorated the horizon, painting her face in the beautiful tones of sunset.

A whiff of roses drifted toward him. “The twins told me they think you smell pretty.”

What on earth had made him say that? He wanted to squirm.

She flicked him a glance from under her lashes. “They talk about me?”

“They said you were the only teacher who could tell them apart, and that they like you because you don’t stay mad at them even when they’re naughty. They said you dress real pretty, too.”

She smiled fondly. “At least someone appreciates me. I love those little terrors. Did they ask you about becoming sheriffs? It’s their dearest wish. Or at least it was last week.”

He laughed. “They told me they hadn’t decided yet whether to be sheriffs or outlaws. Since they were so good at being bad, they might just head out on the outlaw trail. Heaven help us if they do. The country will never be the same.”