The Cactus Creek Challenge (17 page)

Jenny’s temper went from warm to white-hot in an instant. How dare he assume that Amanda was withdrawn because she was a harsh mother? The man had no idea how hard she’d worked to help Amanda overcome her fears, to get past the cruel treatment they’d suffered. And how dare he make an offer without consulting her first, as if she had no say in the matter?

“We will not be beholden to you for the care of a horse. And in the future, don’t make such sweeping offers without checking with me first.” She refused to be under any man’s thumb ever again, and if anyone was going to make decisions regarding her daughter, it was her.

“You’d rather disappoint your daughter than take anything from me? Why? What did I do? You’ve been cagey and defensive around me since the day we met.”

“And with good reason. You’ve bossed and criticized and taken over where you have no business. You don’t think I have enough brains to run your livery stable, you’ve yelled and stormed at me, and now you’re trying to buy my daughter’s affection.” Even as she hurled the awful accusations at him, she knew she was being unreasonable, but it all reeked of Robert. How often had he tried to wheedle his way back into their affections by bringing gifts and promising never again to hit them or yell at them? She couldn’t run the risk of letting Carl get close to Amanda and then pull away. She couldn’t accept the gift without running the risk that Amanda could get hurt.

Carl backed away, his hands up. “Lady, you’ve got me all wrong, but I’m not going to try to change your mind. I don’t buy people’s affection. I was just trying to be nice. Maybe you should examine your own self before you accuse others. My offer to Amanda still stands. She’s welcome here anytime.”

Jenny thrust aside the guilt her conscience tried to throw on her and turned away from him. “Amanda, we need to go. It is well past your bedtime, and you have school tomorrow. Thank Mr. Gustafson and come with me.”

She knew she had come across as hard and unfeeling, but a mother had to do whatever it took to protect her child. The world outside the front door was full of danger. There was absolutely no sense in inviting it inside.

B
en stacked primers and readers and spelling books and history tomes, then rounded the front of the desk and perched his hip on the edge. He crossed his arms and surveyed the classroom. The twins sat with their chins propped in their hands, elbows on their desks, waiting. Mary Alice twirled a stray curl around her finger and studied him from under her lashes. And Amanda gently swung her feet, her slate on her lap.

“I want you to put all your books and slates away. Today we’re going to do things different.”

This met with straightened backs and curious glances. Papers and books shuffled, and pencils dropped into their trays.

“I had a talk with some of you about what you would like to learn, stuff that would be practical and interesting. Some of you have indicated that you might be interested in learning about being a lawman, so I thought I’d teach you a few things that might come in handy. Even if you don’t ever wear a badge, you should know how to take care of yourself out here on the plains.”

Mary Alice’s hand went up slowly in the back. “Mr. Wilder, is this just for the boys? What about us girls? Other than the Cactus Creek Challenge, I’ve never heard of a girl sheriff.”

“You girls are going to learn right alongside the boys. There’s plenty of stuff you should know that you won’t learn from books.”

“What about Miss Bucknell’s lessons?”

“Miss Bucknell can teach Miss Bucknell’s lessons, and Mr. Wilder will teach Mr. Wilder’s lessons, all right?”

Though she said no more, Mary Alice continued to look doubtful. But the rest of the children, even Amanda, looked interested and eager, something he hadn’t seen on their faces at all last week.

“Today’s lesson is going to be on observation and surveillance. One of the things a lawman has to understand is how to spot the thing that is out of place or the person who is acting out of the ordinary. I try to observe everyone I meet, to read them, so that if their actions change, I can spot it. I make mental notes about folks so I know if something’s wrong. I can stave off a lot of trouble by catching it early.”

Isaac raised his hand.

“I know y’all are used to raising your hand and waiting to be called on, and that’s all right for regular school, but I want you to feel free here to ask your questions whenever you think of them. Just remember not to be rude and talk when someone else is talking, and things will go fine. Go ahead, Isaac.”

“Did you observe us? Did you make mental notes about us?”

“Sure.”

“Like what?”

Ben rubbed his chin, pleasantly surprised with how things had gone so far. Every eye was on him, everyone listening.

“Well, I noted right off that you must’ve shot up over the winter. Your ma has let out your pant legs a couple of times.” He grinned when Isaac stuck his leg out to reveal the newly turned down cuffs on his school pants.

“I also noticed that Sarah and Elizabeth trade lunches almost every day and that Thomas can’t work on his math problems unless he has a sharp pencil. Bekah chews on the end of her braid when she’s thinking really hard, and Pierce is the fastest runner in school.”

“We noticed stuff about you, too.” Ulysses crossed his legs up on the seat.

“You did? Like what?”

“You write with your left hand, and you always chew on toothpicks that have been dipped in peppermint oil.”

“Very good. What else?”

“You’re not very good at grammar, but you’re pretty good at Texas history,” Chris volunteered.

“I’ll give you that. Grammar was my worst subject in school.”

“You can hammer real good. You must’ve built stuff before.” Quincy tugged at his earlobe.

“That’s true. All those corrals out at my folks’ place? Courtesy of yours truly. Let’s talk about some of the things a lawman looks for, then I’m going to give you an assignment.” He scooted back until he was sitting on the desk. “A lawman is always on the lookout. For people hanging around where they shouldn’t or doing something out of the ordinary. For example, if a group of men rode into town, men I didn’t know, and they took up positions across from the new bank when they finish building it, watching who came in and who went out, I’d be mighty suspicious and I’d keep an eye on them. Or if a fellow I knew was always hard up for cash suddenly showed up at one of the saloons and bought a round for the house, I’d be wondering where that money came from.”

“Or if your ma brought home a package,” Pierce said, “and she hid it in the bottom drawer of her bureau, and it was near your birthday, you might surmise she had your present already?” He grinned.

“You might draw that conclusion. So how do you go about surveillance without someone knowing what you’re doing?” He moved to the blackboard. “Let’s draw—” He almost said the saloon, but changed it to something a little more kid-friendly. “Let’s draw the mercantile.” He made a few quick lines. “Here’s the front door, and here’s the counter where the candy is. We’ll put in the stove, the back door, the hardware counter, and the dry goods areas. Now, if you were going to set up surveillance, where would you want to be?”

“I’d stay by the candy.”

“Why, Ulysses?” Ben took up his seat on the desk again.

“Because I like candy.” Laughter all around.

“That’s not a bad idea if you didn’t have to keep it up too long. Nobody would wonder about a little boy hanging around the candy jars. Mary Alice, where would you watch from?”

“The table in the back where the catalog is. You could stand there for a long time turning pages in the mail-order catalog without making folks suspicious.”

“Excellent. I agree. Now if I was going to hang out in the mercantile, I’d try to get a seat at the checker game. Lots of time to look around and study things, but nobody would remark on it if you sat there all afternoon.”

“So is that what Mr. Potter and Mr. Jenkes are doing? Watching folks? They sit there every blessed day but Sunday.” Chris snickered. “My ma says they’re going to grow roots.”

“I think they just enjoy each other’s company and a good game of checkers, but”—he put up his finger—“a good sheriff also makes use of such people. If I wanted to know who had been in the store on a given day, I’d ask them. If I wanted to know who had gotten a letter or parcel at the mail counter, those old boys would know, and they’d have a pretty good idea where the letter came from or what was in the parcel.”

He slid off the desk. “This morning, your assignment is to pair off and head into town. I want one person in each pair to take a tablet and a pencil, and I want you to make observances. I’ve got six places for you to observe, one for each pair. I want to know who comes in, who goes out, what they purchase, and who they talk to. If you don’t know the person’s name, describe them. Tall, short, what clothes they have on, how they talk or move. Go ahead and pair yourselves up.”

Their partnerships were predictable, and he was glad to see Amanda with Mary Alice. “All right, the depot, the mercantile, the bakery, the feed store, the livery, and the jail. Pick one and find an inconspicuous spot to observe. Bring me back your findings by noon. I’ll be around town checking on you, but don’t approach me. I’ll find you. Don’t let folks know what you’re up to. If they ask, tell them it’s a school assignment.”

They scampered away like puppies let out of a pen, and he shoved his hands into his pockets, strolling after them in the morning sunshine. For the first time in a week, he felt pretty good about teaching school. No more struggling to understand all the exceptions to the rules of grammar. No more stuffing unwanted facts into little minds. They’d responded so well this morning to learning surveillance, he had high hopes for the afternoon when they went over physical traits from wanted posters.

Speaking of which, he should go get a sheaf of them from his office. Of course that would mean facing Cassie. After her outburst last night, he wasn’t sure how she’d receive him. Seemed like these days they couldn’t be in the same room for long without a fight breaking out. Which was a shame, since they’d always been pretty good friends.

He was stunned that she was almost twenty years old. How had that happened? She still seemed like a kid to him. He cast about his mind for single men in Cactus Creek, because sure as sagebrush grew in Texas, the young men would be lining up to court her soon.

He scratched his chest, frowning. Which one would be worthy of her? She deserved someone special, to be sure, but which one of the ranch hands or shop clerks or railroad men would do?

Striding through the open door of the jail, prepared to either apologize for whatever he’d said the night before to set her off or try to kid her out of her bad temper if she still had a snit on, he stopped short at the sight before him, all thoughts of last evening rocketing out of his head. “What are you doing?” His voice bounced off the sturdy adobe walls.

She jumped, dropping a sheaf of papers that fanned out across the floor. “You scared me. Why aren’t you at the school? Is something wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong. The kids are working on a field assignment. What have you done to my desk?” Every drawer stood open and papers littered the desktop and the chair, and several piles stood on the floor.

“I’m cleaning it out. My father donated a filing cabinet from his office when I explained the tortured nature of your paperwork. From what I can tell, you ascribe to the ‘shove-it-in-any-old-drawer’ school of organization.” She stooped to pick up the circulars she’d dropped.

He picked up a stack of papers off the desktop and plopped them into the top left-hand drawer. “Quit messing with things that don’t concern you. You’re just supposed to babysit the jail for three more weeks, not turn everything on its head. I swear you’re more trouble than a wagonload of barbed wire.”

She snatched the papers back out. “That’s absurd. The jail was a dump, and I’m fixing it up. I promised no more tea parties, but I can’t work in here until I get things straightened up. Once I get these wanted posters filed alphabetically and these circulars filed by date, everything will be in apple-pie order. You’ll thank me later.” She put her fists on her hips and glared up at him.

For some reason, he wanted to laugh. She looked so determined and cute standing up to him that way.

“All right, John L. Sullivan, put your mitts down and go to a neutral corner. I just came to pick up a handful of wanted posters. I need them for a lesson this afternoon.”

“What on earth could you need wanted posters for?”

“Now, now,” he waved his finger at her. “You told me to butt out of your business, so now I’m going to politely ask you to do the same. It’s only fair.” He scavenged a dozen or so of the pages from a stack on the desk. “I’ll get these back to you in case one of these desperados shows up on the evening train.” With a wink, he sauntered out, leaving her pink-cheeked and no doubt biting her tongue. Served her right to be the one left befuddled for once.

He spied Mary Alice and Amanda disappearing into the bakery. That would be the toughest place to observe, since it was so small, but at least Amanda was familiar with every inch of the place and could probably slip in and out like a ghost. Carl might not even notice she was there.

Isaac and Thomas were assigned to the depot at the east end of town. Ben headed over there, figuring to work his way back toward the school, checking in on each pair as he went. When he got to the platform, he mounted the steps and eased into the waiting room. Ralph Campion sat behind the counter, a visor on his forehead. The telegraph at his elbow clicked from time to time. He glanced up from the newspaper he read. “Morning, Sheriff. Oops, I mean Teacher.”

“Morning. Anything interesting going on?”

“Nope, quiet as a church supper. No trains due until the noon from Fort Worth rolls in. What are you doing today? Playing hooky?”

“The kids are doing some fieldwork today.”

“Think you’ll win the Challenge?”

“I don’t know. What do you hear around town?”

“That the destruction of the boys’ outhouse at the school might’ve set you back, except nobody else seems to be doing much better. There was nearly a riot at the bakery this morning when there was nothing new in the cases but biscuits—again. I’m surprised you didn’t hear the uproar. Folks want their pies and cakes and apple fritters, and Carl’s got nothing but sourdough dodgers to give them. Though he does have plenty of those. I didn’t tell folks they were lucky not to be eating his cake. You might win the Challenge by default.”