The Cactus Creek Challenge (10 page)

The reek of whiskey surrounded them like a fog. The notion that they’d come into this place tighter than ticks raised his ire. What if they’d wandered in when Mrs. Hart was here alone?

“If you don’t want biscuits, then I don’t have anything for you. And I don’t serve drunks. Get on out of here and sober up.” He crossed his arms and gave them each a hard stare.

“You got no call to throw us out. We ain’t even half drunk.” Alvin shot up out of his chair, sending it rocking backward into the wall, setting the birds to flapping and squawking.

“Then that’s half too much.”

“I ain’t leaving till I get some cake.” He held up his puny fists.

“You don’t want to start a fight you can’t finish, Alvin.” Carl loaded his voice with warning but had a feeling he was casting pearls before swine.

Melvin bolted up. “It’s two against one. I think we can take him, Al.” He staggered, blinking.

With a speed that he’d been told was surprising in a man of his size, Carl grabbed them each by the bib of their overalls and hustled them toward the door, knocking into chairs and brushing aside tables as he went. Nudging the blue door open with his foot, he shoved them outside where they tumbled off the boardwalk to sprawl in the dirt.

“You two couldn’t take my grandma in a fight if you were stone-cold sober. Now git.” He dusted off his hands. “Before one of you gets hurt.”

Alvin bounced up and came at him, arms swinging. Timing his response, Carl smacked the heel of his hand upward into Alvin’s hooked nose. Blood spewed and Alvin screeched, flying backward to land hard on his rump. His hands went up to cover his offended appendage.

“I warned you. Melvin, pick him up and take him to the doc’s or down to Jake’s. They’ll set his nose and pack it with cotton. And don’t let me ever hear of you causing trouble in this bakery again, understood?”

When he turned around, Amanda stood in the doorway, her face pale as biscuit dough, and her tiny mouth hanging open. He gave her a feeble smile, chagrinned that she’d had to see that.

He took one step toward her, holding his hand out, and she backed away, eyes wide. Though Carl went still, she didn’t, turning quick as a flea and racing through the bakery and kitchen. The back door slammed, and his shoulders slumped.

Jenny trudged along behind the buildings lining Main Street. Weariness had seeped into her marrow, and all she wanted was a hot bath and some willow bark tea. Her forearm throbbed with every step, but she tried to ignore it. Maybe if she didn’t look at the wound, the pain wouldn’t be as severe. As she drew near the bakery’s back door, Carl stepped outside, tossing a full bucket of water into a wide arc to splat in the scruffy grass. The ease with which he accomplished the task made her jealous.

“Afternoon.” She pushed her hair off her forehead with her good wrist. If her mother could see her now, her mortification would know no bounds. Not a shred of the fine Southern manners her mama had worked so hard to instill remained at the moment. Jenny was bedraggled and filthy and smelled of horse. Her dress was ruined, and her shoes were … better not to think about her shoes.

“How’d it go today?” The sunlight caught the reddish threads in his hair and beard and lit his hazel eyes.

“Fine, I think. All the horses are accounted for, eating their heads off, and I didn’t break or lose anything in your workroom.” She sagged onto the bench by the back steps, letting out an unladylike groan and leaning against the siding with her eyes closed.

He frowned and set the bucket inside the door. “This is crazy. You can’t keep up this pace. The livery is no place for a woman.”

“I’ll adjust to the work. It’s just taking me a few days to get into the rhythm of it. I’m used to working hard, and once I get organized, things will come easier.” She fervently hoped she was telling the truth. A few more days like this might have her begging the council to be released from the Challenge.

“I think I might change which project I’m raising money for though.” Jenny cradled her aching arm in her lap. “After toting water up from the creek for fifteen horses and one fat little pony, I’m all for Ben’s watering trough and pump. It would be a sight closer than hauling water from the creek.”

“You’ve been toting it from the creek by the bucketful?”

“Yes.” She raised her head and opened her eyes to look up at him.

“Mrs. Hart, there are water barrels behind the barn. I take them down to the creek in a wagon and fill them up about once a week. Anyway, that’s just for topping off the buckets. It’s a sight easier to lead the horses to the water than the other way around.”

Jenny sagged back against the siding and stared at her raw, beat-up hands. “Well, I sure could’ve used that information sooner.” She forced herself up. If she sat much longer, she wouldn’t be able to move. “How’d it go in the kitchen?”

He followed her inside where the scent of baking hung in the air, as familiar to her as breathing. Yet not a pan or spoon out on the table, not a mixing bowl or cookie cutter on the counters. How did he manage it?

He threaded his fingers through his shoulder-length hair, brushing it back. “Today went great if you like biscuits.”

“Biscuits?” She pushed open the door into the front room and stopped. Every shelf, every plate, every spare inch of counter space was layered in stacks of biscuits. Laughter started deep in her stomach and bubbled up her throat, cleansing away some of the day’s aches, filling some of the cracks in her heart that hadn’t known laughter in a long time.

“It’s not that funny. That’s all I know how to make.” He growled the words, his glare hot enough to start a fire.

His gruffness only made it more hilarious, and she couldn’t stop laughing. Holding her side, leaning against the counter, she whooped and gasped. For a moment, he stood stiff, tall, and terrible, and she was afraid she’d truly offended him, but then his beard twitched, and he broke into a smile. His laughter joined hers, filling the bakery with the unaccustomed sound.

“Oh my,” Jenny wiped her eyes. “That’s quite a sight.”

“I suppose it is pretty silly, but it’s not all my fault. If
somebody
hadn’t given away half the inventory to a crew of ranch hands, I wouldn’t have run out of stock so quickly.”

His gruff, deep voice, so different from the razor-sharp tenor of her husband’s, rumbled in his broad chest. The fact that he could laugh with her was different, too, and somehow eased the tension that had arisen between them.

“That was bad of me, I suppose, but I had to reward them somehow. They were so nice to move all that feed. They even stacked it in the feed room and filled the bins for me.”

His red-gold eyebrows bunched, and he crossed his arms, his muscles bulging. “I should’ve remembered the order and taken care of it myself. It’s my fault you had to worry about it at all. I feel like a buffalo at a square dance in this girly bakery, and you have to feel like a rose in a patch of prickly pear working in the barn.”

She shrugged, trying not to wince. Her right forearm throbbed with every heartbeat. She’d need to soak it in cold water this evening. “I think we’re doing all right. Nothing too disastrous has happened.”

“Unless you count getting caught by a crew of rowdies while wearing a frilly apron, or an overabundance of biscuits.” He sighed. “This is going to be a long month.”

Perhaps she should change the subject. “Whatever did you say to Amanda this afternoon? She raced into the barn today like her hair was on fire.”

His complexion grew ruddy, and he shifted his weight, his big boots scraping the floor. “I should apologize. Was she very upset?”

Her heart lurched, and her temper flared. Every protective-mama inclination she had burst to life. “Apologize? What did you do?”

“I think I scared her. I feel terrible about it, but I forgot she was even in the building. I never thought she might peek through the door and see us.” He rubbed the back of his neck, still not looking at her.

A thousand thoughts raced through her mind, and forgetting her sore arm, she planted her hands on her hips. “Perhaps you should explain what happened.” Her lips felt stiff, and her chest hurt. Though her knees knocked, she held fast to her vow never to cower to a man again. Not even a giant of a man with hands the size of Easter hams.

“Melvin and Alvin Shoop showed up pop-skulled as ’possums, being loud and rude. When they wouldn’t settle down, I tossed them out of the place, and in the process, Alvin might’ve gotten his nose broken.” Carl rubbed the heel of one hand with his opposite thumb, his eyes unfocused, as if remembering. “There was some blood and some yelling, and Amanda saw it all. I tried to reassure her, but she lit out quicker than a sprite.”

Tension leeched out of her limbs, and she drew a shaky breath. Amanda had run into the livery like someone was chasing her, but she’d climbed right to the haymow, and when Jenny had checked on her, she found her daughter playing with a litter of kittens. Mary Alice had come by and invited her for tea, offering to bring her back before dinnertime, and Amanda had gone off, happily enough.

“The Shoop brothers like to come by from time to time, and they usually reek of drink. Amanda knows she’s supposed to go upstairs or out back when they show up.”

“So they do cause trouble in here.” His frown could start a fire.

“Not really trouble. They’re just a nuisance. Most of the time they get their cake or cookies and go. And the sheriff is just across the street, so they tend to mostly behave themselves.”

“Well, they won’t bother you anymore. They’ve been warned.”

His tone sent a shiver up her spine, and she wasn’t sure if she should be comforted or scared.

The back door creaked, and Amanda skipped into the bakery, her braids bouncing with each hop. “Mama, tea was very nice, and Mrs. Watkins says she has a pinafore pattern she can loan you. I think the new pony at the livery should be called Copper, ’cause she’s the same color as your copper saucepan after you polish it.” She skidded to a halt when she saw Carl. Her lips tucked into each other, and she froze, as if hoping he wouldn’t see her.

Jenny’s heart broke a little. How many times had she seen Amanda react the same way when she encountered her father, shrinking into herself, waiting for the cutting words, the sneering look, or the quick slap?

How would Carl react? Amanda’s timidity had always enraged Robert.

His voice, though still deep and rumbly, softened. “Copper is a great name for that little lady.” He kept his eyes on Jenny. “She’s due to foal any day now, and I was just remarking this afternoon that it sure would be nice if I had someone to check on her from time to time. And when that foal comes, it’s going to need some special care, someone small and quiet who likes baby things. Someone like that sure would come in handy, and I was thinking the little missy would be just the person for the job.”

The way her daughter’s eyes glowed with hope, but also couched uncertainty, made Jenny bite her lip. She had to be careful to keep Amanda from getting hurt again. The child had already suffered so much. What if the livery man held out the hand of friendship only to withdraw it or turn mean later?

“I don’t know if that would be wise.” And yet she wanted Amanda to feel a part of the community, to make friends and feel secure. Torn, Jenny leaned against the counter. “Ouch!” She straightened, cupping her injury.

“What’s wrong?” He was beside her in an instant, towering over her.

“It’s nothing.” She whispered the words through tight lips.

“Whatever it is, it ain’t nothing. Did you hurt yourself?” Without waiting for an answer, he reached for her arm, fumbling with the tiny cuff buttons before freeing her wrist and pushing up her sleeve.

“What is this?” His roar rattled the glass in the windows and sent the parakeets into high-pitched chirps. “What did you do to yourself?”

Before she could react, Amanda flew toward them, her little arms flailing. “Leave my mama alone!” Her tiny fists pummeled his flat stomach, and he grabbed her hands, holding her away from him. At his touch, she screamed and writhed.

“Hey now, little missy, I’m not hurting your mama.” As she continued to struggle, he spanned her waist and lifted her to eye level, arms outstretched as she wriggled and swung at him. “Take it easy.”

“Let me go! Let me go!” She beat at his forearms.

Carl set her down and backed away, his face a mask of remorse.

Amanda retreated until her back hit the glass-front display case, her eyes wide and her face pale. She seemed as shocked as the adults at her outburst.

Jenny dropped to her knees before her daughter. “Sweetie, Mr. Gustafson wasn’t hurting me. He wasn’t yelling because he was angry. I think he was just surprised. Mama hurt her arm a little today at the stable, but I’m going to be just fine.”

Amanda gulped and blinked, relaxing a fraction but still regarding Carl with wary eyes. Jenny touched her shoulder, running her hand down Amanda’s arm until she could lace their fingers and give them a squeeze. “Why don’t you go get me a cold, wet cloth, and then you can scoot upstairs. I’ll be up shortly.”

Carl waited until the little girl left after bringing in a dripping cloth. “Will she be all right alone?”