The Cactus Creek Challenge (28 page)

“That goes double for me, Cassiopeia Bucknell.” She hated her given name with a white-hot passion, and he only used it when he really wanted to goad her or get her out of his hair when she was being a pest.

She had just turned on her heel to march back toward town—the very picture of high dudgeon—when a holler went up from behind them.

Several of the children stood beneath the tree the twins were in, looking up and pointing. Pierce ran toward Ben, arms and legs pumping. He skidded to a halt, planting his hands on his knees and gasping.

“Quincy’s hanging upside down by his britches and can’t get loose!”

Ben broke into a run, pounding across the fifty or so yards of prairie between the school and the creek bank. The knot of kids opened to let him in, all of them looking up into the leaves.

“Quincy?” He ducked under a low branch, trying to spot the kid.

“Help, I’m stuck!”

He sounded more mad than hurt, a good sign. “Where are you?”

“Up here.”

Ben took a quarter turn around the trunk and glimpsed a pair of skinny legs sticking out of a pair of overalls. Boots dangled a good thirty feet above the ground.

“Where’s Ulysses?”

“I’m up here, too, but I ain’t stuck. I tried to get him loose, but I can’t lift him high enough. He could always just unhook his overall strap, but then he’d prolly hit about a thousand branches on his way to the ground.” He sounded cheerful and unconcerned.

Cold-blooded little monster.

“Ulysses, can you get down?” Ben jumped and grabbed the lowest branch, hauling himself up by his arms until his belt buckle lay across the limb.

“Yeah, but if I do, I won’t have as good a seat for the action.”

Ben picked his way up another tier of limbs, squirming through the grasping twigs. The boys were a lot smaller than he was, and this tree was a bramble of crossed limbs. His slick-soled boots slipped, and he clutched at a branch to steady himself. “Any kid I find in this tree that
doesn’t
need rescuing when I get up there is going to have to stay after school and write spelling words on the blackboard until his fingers fall right off.”

“What tree?” Ulysses appeared through the leaves on his way down, fast and sure as a squirrel.

“That’s what I thought. And be careful getting down. I don’t want to have to explain this to your mother.”

He shot Ben a cocky grin and disappeared toward the ground.

“Mary Alice?” Ben shouted.

“Yes, sir?”

“Get the kids back. I don’t want anything”
—or anyone
—“to fall on them.”

“Ben, be careful.”

Cassie. Of course she’d stayed.

He raised himself up, testing the last few branches that were too small for his comfort. About halfway out on the limb above, Quincy dangled like a worm on a fishhook, his overall strap caught on a branch.

“Don’t move, kiddo.”

“I can’t.” He looked more aggrieved than scared, but his position was precarious. If the limb or the strap gave way …

“I have to work my way above you. I don’t want both of our weights on that branch.” Ben climbed around the limb the boy hung from and lay full-length on the branch above him, praying it would hold and that he wouldn’t tip off.

“Easy.” He inched along, reaching down with one hand while wrapping his other arm around the limb he lay on. The wood gave a suspicious pop, and he froze. Slowly, he wiped his forehead on his shoulder. “I’m almost there.”

“Hurry,” Quincy whispered. “These pants are cutting into my … manly bits.”

A chuckle worked its way up Ben’s throat. Trust the kid to say something so outlandish and probably truthful at such a moment. He worked his fingers under one overall strap and pulled.

The limb he lay on trembled, and his arm shook at the dead weight hanging from his grasp. “Slowly.” He forced the word through his clenched teeth.

Inch by inch, he raised Quincy until he was free of the spar he hung on. Then, as quickly as he could without falling, he swung the boy toward the tree trunk. “Grab hold of something.”

“I got it.” The weight lifted from Ben’s grasp as Quincy found purchase on a solid limb.

“Now sit still and let me get below you. You can follow me down.” That way if the boy fell, maybe Ben could grab him or cushion his fall or something.

“Wouldn’t it be better if I got out of your way?”

“No. Do as you’re told.” The kid sounded like they’d just been for an easy stroll down Main Street while Ben felt as winded as a stampeded horse. Heights were definitely not his thing. He worked his way down, limb to limb, until he was beneath the boy. “Now, easy does it until we’re down.” After which time he might throttle the kid for scaring him this way.

Ten feet from the ground, Ben’s slick boots slipped off a branch, and he knew he was going to fall. “Look out!”

Whump, wham, smack, thump!
He hit the ground flat on his back, all the air whooshing out of him like a stomped-on bellows. Unfortunately, it didn’t come rushing back in. Ben forced his eyes open, telling himself not to panic … the air would come back … it always did … When was it going to come back? … My lungs are broken …
I need air now … I’m going to die!
A dozen young faces clustered around him, eyes wide, mouths open. Some even gulped precious air as if to help him breathe.

White-faced, with wide eyes, Cassie loomed into his narrowing vision. She raised her fist, and before he could protest, she punched him in the gut.

Thwack!

Her fist hit him just below the breastbone, and he gasped, warm spring Texas air rushing into his starved lungs. He lay still, just breathing, but all the things he wanted to say collided in his head. She’d hit him. When he was down. What a bully.

Overhead, Quincy shinnied down the tree, squatted beside him, and let out a low whistle.

“I think you hit every branch on the way down.”

Hard to tell if the kid was pitying him or admiring him.

Ben eased up onto his elbows to assess the damage. Every muscle protested. “I think you’re right. Next time you get stuck in a tree, I’m going to leave you hanging there. You can build a nest and grow some feathers for all I care.”

Quincy snickered and stood. The kids backed up, and another face cut off Ben’s view of the tree. This one was pale as milk and had long-lashed green eyes full of concern. “Are you all right?”

Time for at least a little show of manliness. He sat up, nearly bumping noses with her. “I’m fine. Just testing out gravity. It still works, if you’re wondering.” He rubbed his shoulder and tried not to grimace.

She swatted his arm, which hurt. “Stop being silly. I need to know whether I should run for my dad. Are your ribs all right? Any broken bones?”

He got to his feet, wincing, checking himself over. “All the parts that are supposed to bend do, and none of the parts that aren’t supposed to, so I’m good.” He found his hat and eased it onto his head. Gingerly he explored a tender spot over his right ear. “Good thing all those branches broke my fall. Though I gotta say, slugging me was uncalled for.”

“I was trying to get your diaphragm working again.” She scowled at him.

Rubbing his middle gingerly, he shook his head. “A likely story. You seemed to enjoy it way too much.”

“You’d best be grateful, or I’m liable to do it again.” She fisted her little hand and shook it up at him, a kitten playing tiger. He engulfed her clenched hand in his and lowered it.

“Let’s smoke the peace pipe, shall we?” He slowly released his grip on her smooth, pale skin. “I think we’ve bickered enough for one day.”

The kids had fanned out again once they saw him on his feet, and they ran among the trees shouting, even Quincy. “Is it healthy or heartless that they think I’m indestructible?”

She touched his jaw, turning his head, and his skin tingled where she touched. “It’s probably healthy. You’re going to have a nice bruise here.”

“And a few other places, I imagine.” Dusting himself, he ran his tongue over his teeth to make sure they were all there. “Puts me in mind of another time I rescued a kid stuck up a tree. Though that time it wasn’t overalls that got caught. If I remember correctly …” He grinned.

“Ben, you promised never to tell anyone about that.” She folded her arms and glared at him.

“Caught by your bloomers up a tree not too far from this very one. Good thing I happened along when I did, and that I am so good at rescuing damsels in distress.” He grinned at her, enjoying the roses blooming in her cheeks and the sparks flying in her eyes.

“I was eight and trying to keep up with the boys.”

“You’re still trying to keep up with the boys.” For some reason, his voice dipped an octave or so and rumbled around in his chest. “You know that I’m standing by to rescue you if you ever need it?”

She nodded, trailing her fingers down his arm and patting his hand. “You always have been. Thanks for not saying ‘
when
you need it.’”

“No problem. I’d better gather the kids up. I’m thinking my next lesson might need to be about treating wounds and injuries.” He tried to keep it light and not focus on the smell of roses coming from her hair or the zip along his arm where her fingers touched him.

Cassie started back toward town, and he tried not to watch the gentle sway of her hips or the way her hand brushed the gun belt she’d slung around her slender waist as she walked. Working some moisture into his mouth, he put his fingers to his lips and let out a piercing whistle.

He waved the kids toward him, and as they clustered around, he herded them toward the school. Once more he counted noses, only this time he came up one short.

Amanda.

Ben’s whistle rent the air as he called the kids together. Cassie resisted the urge to turn around and take one more look. Hard as it was, she was trying to come to terms with the notion that he might never see her as a woman, that she might have to give up on her dream of being Mrs. Benjamin Wilder.

Her mind knew it, but her heart wasn’t having any part of it. When he’d fallen out of that tree and lay there gasping like a fish, her knees had turned to water, and her heart had flipped right over. When he’d finally stood up and brushed himself off, she was so relieved he wasn’t dead or maimed, she’d come within a small cat’s whisker of throwing herself into his arms and sobbing like a hysterical little girl. At least his teasing banter had saved her from making a fool of herself.

“Amanda!” Ben’s shout stopped her.

“Amanda! Amanda!” The kids’ voices joined in.

She turned back toward the creek. Pierce and Thomas pounded up to her.

“What’s wrong?”

“We can’t find Amanda. The sheriff told us to fan out and look for her.”

Forcing herself to remain calm, she put one hand on each of their shoulders. “Pierce, you go look inside the school. Thomas, check the privy.”

“Yes, ma’am.” They scampered away.

Cassie headed for the creek. The sluggish water was one of her greatest concerns for her students. Though Cactus Creek wasn’t fast-moving or deep, quicksand formed and disappeared with every rain. What had once been a solid bank could become deadly overnight.

“Amanda!” His shout rang under the brushy trees.

She skidded down the sandy bank and emerged into the sunshine. Ben stood at the edge of the water scanning up and down the creek.

“Any sign of her?”

“She can’t have gotten far.” He whistled again, the sound echoing off the water and the far bank.

“Two of the boys are checking the school and the privy.”

Nine children clustered around him. “Mary Alice, you take the kids back up out of the creek bed and fan out. You couldn’t hide an egg on the prairie up there, but make sure. Search between here and the school, and if you don’t find her, I want y’all to stay in the schoolhouse.” He stared hard at the twins. “I don’t want any of the rest of you to go missing. Understood? Work on the baskets or the beading or something, but don’t stir a step until we get back. Got it?”

Heads nodded, and they fought their way up the bank and out of sight.

“Where would she go?”

Cassie shook her head. “She doesn’t go anywhere by herself really.” She snapped her fingers—a gesture that usually got her a disapproving frown when she did it in front of her mother. “The bridge. She likes to drop a stick on the upstream side and wait for it to emerge under the bridge on the downstream side.”

“I told her she might want to draw some of the cattails there, too.”

They started back up the bank, since it would be quicker to go through the prairie grass than fight their way through the brush and trees that bordered the creek. The bridge was only about a hundred yards from where they stood.

Ben’s long legs ate up the ground, and Cassie had to trot to keep up. Her sidearm banged against her leg, and she clamped her hand on the gun to keep it still.

The log-and-plank bridge lay in the April sunshine, spanning the muddy creek on the stage line road to Amarillo. Her heart sank when she couldn’t see a little blond in a plaid dress at the rail.

Ben stopped, pushing back his hat and sweeping the area with his hawkish brown eyes. “This is ridiculous. Maybe she’s back at the schoolhouse.”