Ana Leigh (10 page)

“Mr. Garrett, I’m Zach MacKenzie. My dad’s often told me stories of when the two of you were fighting the Comanches. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, sir.”

“Who’s your dad, son?” Garrett asked.

“Flint MacKenzie.”

Garrett broke into a wide grin. “You’re Flint MacKenzie’s son! How’s that ornery son of a mule doing?”

“He’s fine—probably just as ornery, though.”

Garrett laughed. “Thought for sure somebody would have shot him by now. Reckon I wasn’t much older than you at the time, but to this day, I’ve never met a man who could follow a trail like your pa. He’s one hell of a man.”

“I’ll tell him that, sir, the next time I see him.” Zach turned to Rose. “Mr. Garrett, this is Miss Dubois.”

Garrett doffed his hat. “Pleasure to meet you, ma’am.”

“The pleasure’s mine, Mr. Garrett,” Rose said. “I was raised in the South, but even I’ve heard of the legendary sheriff who killed Billy the Kid.”

“Reckon Billy’s the legend, ma’am, not me.” He shook Zach’s hand. “You be sure and give my regards to your dad, Zach.”

“Thank you, sir, I will.”

“And, son, watch your back. That Tait’s got a mean streak in him as wide as the stripe on a skunk’s back.” He tipped his hat. “Miss Dubois.”

Once Garrett walked away, Zach grabbed her hand. “We’d better get going; the contest’s about to start. We’re signed up already.”

Rose stopped short. “You registered us before I even agreed to do it?”

“I knew you would; you’re a good sport, Rosie.” He gave her one of his irresistible grins. “Just one of your many endearing qualities.”

“You’re hopeless, MacKenzie. Utterly, totally, completely, out-of-control hopeless.”

He squeezed her hand. “Rosie, honey, we’re gonna win those circus tickets.”

Chapter 10

S
pectators were lined up on each side of the two long blocks that comprised Brimstone’s main street, the site of the mule race.

Rose stood with her arms folded across her chest as she listened to the Reverend Downing explain the rules of the contest to the five teams participating. She really was not competitive when it came to games, and wondered how she let Zach once again talk her into doing something.

“Points are awarded according to the position in which a team finishes,” the pastor said. “When all the events are completed, the team that has accumulated the most points wins the prize. In this event, the winning team earns five points on down and the last team earns one point. Points will be adjusted according to the number of teams remaining, because any team that fails to finish an event is disqualified from continuing on to the next one.”

“That sounds like temptation knocking,” Rose murmured to Kate.

“The rules of this first event are quite simple,” the pastor continued. “Each man must ride a mule down to those five men you can see near the railroad tracks. He must then dismount, give the reins to the man with his corresponding number, and then run back here. Once he crosses the finish line, he hands the baton to his partner. The woman must run down there, climb on the mule, and ride it back here. The first woman back is the winner. Is that clear to all?”

When all nodded, Reverend Downing shouted, “Gentlemen, mount your mules.”

Grinning, Zach asked, “Do I get a kiss for luck, Rosie?”

“Did you say a
kick
, MacKenzie?” she asked.

He sighed. “At least wish me luck.”

“Luck,” she said.

A gunshot announced the official start of the race, and the shouting began as the men prodded the mules down the road. Now that the time was almost upon her, the thought of climbing on a mule became less and less appealing. Zach looked ridiculous: his long legs dangled over the sides of the mule and his feet almost touched the ground. The whole thing was dumb.

“Did you ever ride a mule?” she asked Kate, who was standing next to her.

“Sure, plenty of times. Just don’t whip it, Rose. Mules are stubborn, and it might balk. Use your knees and lightly prod it; that will keep it at a steady pace. And remember, a mule’s not a horse, so don’t expect too much speed.”

“Speaking of horses, it’s kind of ironic that these same cowboys who couldn’t run bases in the ballgame, are now going to run two blocks in a mule race.”

“Or try, anyway.”

Still skeptical, Rose said, “Kate, you actually don’t think Mr. Billings will be able to run two blocks?”

“Honey, I don’t think he’ll be able to ride that mule for two blocks. I have great expectations of being eliminated in this first event.” She grinned at Rose. “I don’t think you’re going to be that lucky.”

“Probably. Zach’s a driven man, Kate. It would have cost him less just to buy the circus tickets.”

“You’re missing the point, Rose. We’re all doing this for charity.”

“I guess you’re right. I must be the only one who can’t get into the spirit of it. Even those two seem to be enjoying it,” Rose said, looking down the line to where Rita and Flora were cheering on their partners.

“Yeah, but did you see who they have for partners? Bull and Joe.”

Both girls broke into laughter.

The cheering increased as the men ran back. A young man who appeared to be not a day over sixteen was in the lead; Zach was a couple yards behind him. Everett Billings had a firm hold on last place.

“I think that young couple has this race in the bag,” Kate said. “That girlfriend of his looks like one of those Amazon warriors in mythology.”

“I visualize her in a horned helmet at the helm of a Viking ship.”

“She’ll probably make us all look like old ladies. All I can hope is that Billings cries uncle before he can finish.”

“Oh, this is going to be so embarrassing,” Rose groaned as Zach neared the finish line.

As soon as her partner handed the baton to her, the young Amazon took off in a spurt of speed. Rose chased after her.

She had covered about half the distance to the mules when she approached Mr. Billings, still on his way back. He was running with a high-stepping motion: knees high and his elbows bent and hugging his sides. He appeared to be running in place, rather than advancing. She nodded as she passed him.

Her lungs felt near to bursting when she reached the mules at the same time that Rita did. The young Viking had just mounted her mule when a train racing through the depot tooted a whistle in passing.

Spooked by the shrill blast, the mule kicked up its hind legs and began braying. Its discordant hee-haws rent the air as the animal pivoted and bucked in circles like an unbroken mustang.

Taken by surprise, the young girl was tossed off right onto Rita. Rita lay bare-bottomed in the street, her head buried under yards of gown and tulle petticoat, cursing a blue streak as her legs and red-laced boots wiggled in the air.

A high voice, more shrill than the train whistle, came from under the skirt. “Get off me, ya clumsy bitch,” Rita screeched at the young girl.

Awed by the spectacle, the goggle-eyed mule tenders flocked to the aid of the fallen women. Shoving the girl aside, Rita sat up and glared at the men.

“Get your hands off me or I’ll start chargin’ ya.”

No one paid any attention to Rose, who climbed on her mule and headed back to the finish line while Rita crawled around on the dusty street shouting, “Where in hell is that baton?”

Flora, who had ignored the fracas as well, was a short distance behind Rose.

Rose crossed the finish line to cheers and applause, and as Zach swung her off the mule, she savored the sweet taste of victory.

The second loudest cheer of the event came when Kate crossed the finish line.

In a show of bruised pride and lack of sportsmanship, the tearful young Amazon refused to finish and wanted the race to be rerun. The Reverend Downing saw no reason for doing so, declared the accident the hand of Fate, and the young couple were disqualified.

So the first event ended with Rose and Zach having four points, Flora and Joe with three, Rita and Bull with two, and Kate and Everett Billings earning one point. They all moved on to the shooting range.

A shooting contest always attracted people’s attention, and Rose discovered that today’s event wasn’t any exception.

She peered at the four targets, their centers painted with round red circles four inches in diameter, erected about two hundred feet away. “I don’t understand what people find so fascinating about pointing a gun at a standing target.”

Kate said, “Of course a moving target would be harder to hit, but it still takes a good eye and steady hand to hit a standing one.”

“So what am I doing in this contest?” Rose asked.

“You felt the same way about the last event and look what happened,” Zach said. “We won, didn’t we?”

“Because of a fluke! That young couple deserved to win that race.”

“Rosie, you’ll do great,” Zach assured her.

She continued to stare at him. “I’m trying to understand why I continue to let you talk me into embarrassing myself.”

He regarded her solemnly. “I don’t think there’s anything either of us can deny each other anymore, except the one thing we both want the most.”

“How can you think about sex at a time like this?”

She watched his appealing grin dawn. “What makes you think I meant sex, Rosie?”

“You know darn well that’s what you meant, Zach MacKenzie.”

He was kept from replying when the Reverend Downing shouted, “All right, gentlemen, take your positions. Each pistol you’ve been given has six bullets. A team’s hits will be combined to determine the winning scores.”

Zach glanced at her. “Are you going to wish me—”

“Luck,” she murmured.

Joe shot first and hit the mark four times, then Bull followed with five hits. Everett Billings surprised everyone by matching Joe’s score.

Zach was the last to compete. Without hesitation, he stepped up, aimed, and rapidly fired all six shots into the center of the red circle.

“See, honey, nothing to it,” he said as he rejoined her. “We’re in the lead.”

“Not for long,” she grumbled, and stepped up to the line.

Flora and Rita each managed to hit the bull’s-eye three times, then Kate surprised Rose by making five out of the six shots.

As Rose moved in place, Zach called out, “Just take your time and gently squeeze the trigger. Don’t jerk it.”

Following Zach’s example, she took careful aim, then rapidly fired all six shots. Not only did she miss the bull’s-eye, but she completely failed to even hit the target.

Zach looked appalled.

Now she knew exactly how the young Viking felt. “I told you I can’t hit anything.”

Even worse, she had wiped out their lead. The four teams were tied with five points each.

Vowing to redeem herself in the next competition, Rose fortified herself for the mysterious greased pig contest.

The mystery increased when she saw the knee-high rubber boots, long-sleeved flannel shirt, and bib overalls that each woman was given. The Reverend Downing had wisely provided a tent for them to change into the ensemble.

“These are strange costumes to cook in,” Rose murmured softly to Kate when they had completed the change. The sleeves of the shirt hung past her hands, and she rolled them up to her elbows.

“Yes, I can see now that this is not what we thought it would be.”

“What did ya think it was gonna be?” Rita asked from where she and Flora were changing.

“Oh, we had several ideas in mind,” Rose said nonchalantly, indicating with an eye signal to Kate not to say anything. The last thing she wanted was for these two prostitutes to know the mistaken impression Kate and she had had about the event.

“I hope one of ’em was catching a greased pig.”

“
Catching
a greased pig!” Kate exclaimed, shocked.

Rose hurriedly shoved Kate ahead of her out of the tent.

“Come along, ladies,” the pastor said.

Rose clopped along behind him, curling her toes to try and hold the boots on by suction. He led them over to an area enclosed by a slatted fence. Four piglets were rooting within the enclosure.

“Ladies, your task is a simple one. The first woman who climbs out holding a pig is the winner. To make the attempt a tad more difficult, the little piggies have been greased. Good luck to you all.”

Trying not to trip, Rose waddled over to Zach and glared at him.

“I now am expected to wallow in the dirt not only like a pig—but with a pig! I
will
get even with you for this, Zach Mackenzie.”

He spread his arms wide in a gesture of innocence. “I swear, Rosie, I had no idea. You and Kate should feel free to drop out of the contest,” he said earnestly.

“And let
them
win?” she declared, glancing at Rita and Flora smirking at her. “Not on your life.”

Rita snickered. “Listen to Miss High-and-Mighty Harvey Girl. You two better haul your royal asses out of here before you get ’em dirty.”

Rose and Kate exchanged a determined look, then crawled over the fence.

“Here, piggy, piggy, piggy,” Rose cooed as she approached one of the tiny pigs. The little pig’s round black eyes regarded her with curiosity. She made a grab for it. Squealing and wiggling, the greasy animal slipped right through her hands.

Kate succeeded in holding on to one of the tiny pigs and headed for the fence, but Flora gave Kate a shove, and Kate landed on her backside. The squealing pig wiggled out of her grasp. Flora raised her arms above her head in a gesture of victory.

Kate stood up and put her hands on her hips. “Reverend Downing, she should be disqualified.”

“For what? Nobody said anything about rules,” Rita shouted. Screeching like a banshee, Rita dived at Rose, but she stepped aside adroitly, and the prostitute flopped to the ground amidst the pigs, sending the four frightened animals scurrying in all directions.

Amused, Kate looked down at the two women in the dirt. “Have you ladies had enough?” she asked.

“Not on your life, ya skinny-ass biscuit pusher,” Rita yelled.

“Oh, my,” the Reverend said, shocked. “Dear ladies, we must not get profane.”

The spectators were hooting and hollering. Some had begun making bets as to the outcome.

A gaping Everett Billings said, “Miss Dubois, Miss McDermott. This is no way for a lady to act.”

“You’re telling me,” Rose declared. She glared at Zach. “I’ve had just about enough of making a spectacle of myself. If you want to win those stupid tickets, you can very well climb in here and catch one of these pigs yourself!”

“But that’s not in the rules, Miss Dubois,” the Reverend said.

“Didn’t you hear, Reverend Downing, there aren’t any rules,” Rose declared.

Kate went over to the fence. “Souee-e-e-e,” she called.