The Cactus Creek Challenge (23 page)

The instant she caught sight of the pink scallop-edged paper, she wanted to slip through the cracks of the floor and die. How could she have been so stupid? Her heart thrummed in her chest, and a buzzing sound overtook her ears. She put her hand over her stomach, feeling the hollow, swooping sensation as it expanded outward, clear to her fingers and toes.

“I just don’t know what to say. It caught me completely by surprise.” He handed her the page.

“I … I …” she swallowed, trying to work a smidgen of moisture into her mouth. Hot tears of embarrassment pricked her eyes, and she drew a staggering breath.

“I mean, Mary Alice is a nice kid, and I don’t want to set her back, but she can’t be leaving notes like this for me. It isn’t right.” He shrugged, his troubled brown eyes meeting hers. “What do I do? It’s clearly a case of puppy love. Do you think it will blow over if I just ignore it, or should I confront her? Though I don’t have a spark of a notion what I’d say.” Dull red dusted his cheeks, and he shrugged again.

She blinked. “What did you say?”

“Read the note.”

Unfolding the paper, she scanned the lines, though she knew every word, every loop and whorl of her own handwriting. The page must’ve fallen out of her journal, the journal where she had poured out all her longing for Benjamin whenever she couldn’t stand things any longer.

“Mary Alice has been acting strange since I started teaching.” Ben set his hat, brim up, on the desk and tunneled his fingers through his dark hair. “She bats her eyes and tugs on her curls and is always offering to sweep up or clap the erasers or stay inside at recess and wipe down the blackboards. I put her off as gently as I can, but I bump into her every time I turn around. Should I have a few words with her? I don’t want to hurt her feelings, but it’s downright embarrassing.”

Mary Alice. He thought Mary Alice had written the note and hidden it in the desk. She licked her lips and sought for words through the dust storm of relief blowing through her.

“If it would be any help to you, I could perhaps have a word or two with her.”

He blew out a long breath. “You would? That would be great. I’d really appreciate you taking the reins on this one. Less embarrassing all the way around, I would think. I’ve never been in a situation like this. Maybe you should mention to her that in addition to me being miles too old for her, real men like to make the first advance, you know? It’s mighty forward of a girl to declare her love for a fellow without him even having at least let his interest in her be known first.”

A fresh dagger of mortification thrust through her heart. This was why he must never know how much she loved him until he first declared his feelings. If he found out first, he’d be appalled and run for the hills faster than a mustang with his tail on fire.

“I’ll have a talk with her. It would be best if you didn’t mention you’d found the page. No need to embarrass her further.” And wouldn’t it just, especially since Mary Alice would deny knowledge of the note, and Ben would put two and two together and it would come up Cassie.

The first chance she got, she’d go to the school and search the desk thoroughly to make sure no more journal pages had escaped.

C
assie slipped from the house as the sun broke the horizon. In just a few strides, her skirt had wicked up the early morning dew, darkening her hemline. Unlocking the schoolhouse, she stepped inside and inhaled deeply, breathing in the aromas of paper, chalk, children, and lunches. She rounded the partition and entered the schoolroom proper, immediately noting the small changes that said someone other than herself had been in charge for the last two weeks.

Soft sunlight fell through the east windows onto the desks. Papers and books jutted from the small shelves under the desktops. Cassie always insisted the children spend the last five minutes of each day straightening their belongings before being dismissed from school. Though she’d clearly included this in the daily schedule she’d provided, Ben must be skipping that part. She walked up the aisle, letting the familiarity of the room embrace her. As much as she wanted to win the Challenge and enjoyed being the temporary sheriff, she missed her students, her classroom, her little kingdom.

The blackboard had been wiped clean—probably by the attentive Mary Alice—and the erasers lay neatly in the tray. As she approached the desk, she focused her attention on the top. Across a large sheet of store paper, the children had drawn and labeled pictures of Texas animals.

She tugged on her lower lip, mentally ticking through the curriculum. Wildlife study wasn’t on any of the class lists for this quarter. She sat in her chair and examined the handwriting, identifying several of the children’s work. A group project with every grade represented.
Hmm
. It was well done, she’d give them that.

The clock chimed, bringing her back to her errand. Beginning with the top right-hand drawer, she searched every nook and cranny, sifting through all the papers and books, taking everything out and putting it on top of the desk in order not to miss anything. When the drawers were empty and the desktop full, she sat back, relieved to have found nothing. Then a niggle of unease tugged at her mind. Had Ben found something more before she could remove it?

Her eyes fell on the grade book on top of a stack, and she couldn’t resist opening it up to see how everyone was doing under Ben’s tutelage.

She checked the first week, happy to see he’d kept careful records of attendance and assignments. Before she could turn to the next week, a sound drew her attention. She got to her feet.

Ben came around the partition, a stack of boards on his shoulder and a paint can dangling from one hand. He stopped short; then his face split in a smile.

“Good morning. I didn’t expect anyone to be here.” He glanced at the contents of the desk piled in plain sight. “What are you doing?”

What could she say that wouldn’t be a lie? “I was looking for something.”

He edged up the aisle, careful not to knock anything with the boards before leaning them against the wall. “What?”

“Um …”

Ben reached for the record book. “Are you checking up on me?”

“No, I really was looking for something.” She knew she was blushing and mentally rued her fair complexion for betraying her. “I’ll put it all back.”
Oh, for the love of gingersnaps, why am I apologizing for looking through my own desk?
“What brings you here on your day off?” As she asked, she began restoring the contents of the drawers.

He shrugged and set the paint can on the floor. “I had a little project I wanted to do.”

“Anything I can help with?” She stowed her writing paper and her favorite ink pen in the top drawer. Her ruler and extra boxes of chalk followed.

“If you like. I’m making a bookshelf. The kids said you’re always saying you don’t have enough storage.”

Her hand froze on one of the drawer handles, touched that he would spend his Saturday doing something thoughtful for her. It was just like him to infuriate her to the point of madness one moment and sweep all those feelings away by being considerate the next.

“That’s very kind of you.”

He grinned and shoved his hat back. “I’m a nice guy.” His brown eyes twinkled, and his smile made her feel as if she were melting into a warm puddle.

Time to get ahold of herself or she would surely betray her feelings and disgust him with her forwardness. “And humble, too. Are you conceding defeat?”

“What do you mean?”

“The extra bookshelves will come in handy when I win the Challenge. My cause is new books for the school.” She gave him a saucy smile.

“I concede nothing. I think I’ll take this wood back to the lumberyard.” He growled and lifted one of the boards.

Smacking her hands on the lumber to pin it against the wall, she shook her head. “Oh no you don’t. It’s here, so you might as well finish what you started.”

“I always finish what I start.” He cocked a playful eyebrow at her.

“As do I.” They looked at one another for a long moment before he broke the stare.

“I left something outside.”

While he was gone, she shoved the last of the papers and supplies into the desk.

“I know what you were looking for in the desk.” His toolbox clanked to the floor.

She went still. “You do?”

“Yep, I found them on Friday, and I put them in my vest pocket so I’d be sure to get them to you.” He shook his head. “And then I forgot anyway.” He opened his hand, and on his palm lay a pair of tortoise-shell combs.

“Oh, thank you.” She took them, thrilling as her fingers touched his skin for an instant.

“Glad I could help. If you hold boards for me while I saw, this bookshelf won’t take too long. I wanted to get an early start on it so I could get it painted today. If I get a coat on it this morning, I can come back and put another layer on this afternoon and it will be ready for Monday morning. It won’t be fancy, but it should do.”

She followed his directions, treasuring this time alone with him, trying desperately not to let it go to her head, but knowing she would always remember this morning.

“One more board to cut; then we’ll put it together.” He lifted the last long board into place, using two of the children’s desks as sawhorses.

“Can I try?” she asked.

“You want to cut it?”

“Sure. How hard can it be?” She lifted her arm and flexed her muscle.

“Go ahead, ma’am. I’ll hold the board for you.” He handed her the saw with a laugh.

It was heavier than she’d anticipated, but she took it in both hands.

“There’s the mark. Cut right across.” He gripped the board, pressing it firmly onto the desks.

She eyed the pencil mark and set the saw teeth on the corner of the board as she’d seen Ben do. Dragging the saw toward her, it wobbled and stuck and bounced off the wood leaving a series of jagged marks that looked like mice had been busy nibbling the lumber.

Glancing up at Ben, she noted his innocent expression. She set her jaw and gripped the saw harder.

Same results. With a huff, she blew the hair off her forehead. “What am I doing wrong?”

“It’s not as easy as it looks. You have to use some muscle, but you have to let the saw do the work.” He moved behind her, and her breathing flat-out quit. “Here, let me show you.”

His arms came around her, and every nerve came alive. He smelled of bay-rum soap and peppermint. His chest was a solid wall against her back, and his arms, all ropy muscle and sinew, blocked any escape. As if she wanted to escape. If she died right there, she’d die a happy girl.

Best yet, his hand engulfed hers on the saw, and he wrapped his fingers over hers. “This is a crosscut saw, so cutting action will happen on both the push and the pull stroke. Like a knife.” He pushed then pulled, and with ridiculous ease, a quarter inch groove appeared. “Let the saw do the work. Right?”

She nodded, wanting to close her eyes and savor his nearness. Gradually, as she sawed, he let up the pressure on her hand, letting her take over more of the work—but he didn’t let go altogether. Finally, the board parted, the cut end clattering to the floor.

“I did it.” She let go of the saw and whirled, elated.

They stood bare inches apart. She smiled up at him expecting a grin in return, but he had the strangest expression on his face. He backed up a step, holding the saw in one hand and wiping the palm of his other on his leg.

“Yep, you did.”

His voice sounded like he was strangling.

Puzzled, she asked, “What do we do next?”

“Um, hammer it together, I suppose.”

“Are you feeling ill?” He looked flushed and pale at the same time … if that was possible.

“I’m fine.” He dug into his toolbox and drew out a paper sack. “I’ll hammer. You hand me the nails.”

In a matter of ten minutes, they stood back and looked at a new waist-high bookshelf.

“All it needs is paint.”

She glanced at the clock. Almost nine.

“I won’t be able to help with that. I have to get down to the jail. I told Jigger I’d take the weekend so he could rest his arm.”

“All right. I can handle it from here.”

“Is something wrong?” He’d become so quiet, she couldn’t help but wonder if she’d done something to offend him. And he hadn’t said a word of complaint about the Challenge or the gold or anything.

“No. I just want to get this first coat on so it can start drying.” He used a screwdriver to open the paint can.

Feeling as if she was being dismissed, she picked up her hair combs from the corner of the desk.

“I guess I’ll see you this afternoon for the campaigning?”

“I’ll be there.”

He didn’t have to sound so grim about it.

She couldn’t leave fast enough for Ben. The minute her skirts disappeared and the schoolhouse door closed behind her, he sagged against the wall, trying to make sense of what had happened to him.

Whatever it was, it was wrong, sideways, and not going to happen again, that was for sure and for certain.

He scrubbed his fingers through his hair and dragged his palms down his cheeks. Though the smell of fresh paint drifted up from the open can, he couldn’t get the scent of roses and female out of his mind.