The Cactus Creek Challenge (3 page)

The doc smoothed his neatly trimmed moustache, regarding Ben. “My Cassie’s smart and resourceful. I fully expect she’s up to the job. And it isn’t as if she’ll be doing it alone. An experienced deputy like Jigger won’t have any trouble providing her with backup.”

She nodded with every statement her father made, chapping Ben’s hide like sandpaper.

“But, sir, the safety of the town is at issue, not to mention the fact that I’ve never taught school a day in my life. It was one thing when I thought I’d be switching places with Carl, here. One look at him, and the carousers would hightail it. You can’t tell me the town will be better for having a little girl in the sheriff’s office and a widow woman in the livery.”

“And I’ve never baked anything more complicated than biscuits, and I tend to burn those.” Carl found his voice. “A stable is no place for a lady like Mrs. Hart. I don’t know which is rougher, some of the stock or some of the customers. She’ll ruin her clothes, even if she doesn’t get hurt. I think this is a bad idea.”

Mrs. Hart looked as if she might agree with him, but she said nothing.

Hobny Jones shrugged, his jagged eyebrows plunging toward one another. “Maybe we should reconsider. If you remember, I raised just these concerns when the idea of men and women switching jobs first arose.”

“No, we’ve thought this through, voted upon it, and announced it to the town.” Doc tapped together his papers and slid the chair into the kneehole of the desk. “The contestants just need to sign the contracts, and we’ll be all set.”

Ben settled his hands on his hips. “This isn’t going to work. If I had known you were going to make us swap with helpless gals, I never would’ve put my name into the mix. We’re all going to regret this.”

“Helpless?” Cassie sliced a glare his way. “We’re far from helpless, and it’s about time you realized it. Where’s my contract?” She stepped forward, reached across the desk, and plucked an ink pen from the stand.

“What good does it do you to sign yours if I don’t sign mine?”

“Nonsense, Son.” His father stood. “The purpose of the Challenge isn’t to make things easy on the contestants. After all, if we did that, where’s the challenge? It’s to stretch you, to make you see things from a different perspective. To walk a mile or two in someone else’s shoes. You might be surprised by what you learn about the person you trade places with and, more importantly, what you learn about yourself.”

His tone said he’d had enough of this discussion, and, as a dutiful son, Ben clamped his mouth shut on all he wanted to say. The only thing that would surprise him about trading places with Cassie Bucknell was if some disaster
didn’t
befall her sometime this month. This month? More like in the first twenty-four hours.

Hobny sorted through the papers and set one in front of each of the contestants. “It’s a basic contract with the town that outlines the requirements of the Challenge. Once you sign, you’re legally bound to fulfill the contract for the full thirty days. If you back out, you agree to pay the town the sum of twenty-five dollars, which will be used for the eventual winner’s project.”

Cassie signed first and handed the pen to Ben. He dipped it into the inkwell, still scrambling to find some way to get out of this. One glance at his father’s determined stare and the mayor’s challenging smirk, and he scrawled his name and thrust the pen at Carl. Carl signed, slowly, as if he could barely force his fingers to move, before passing the pen to Mrs. Hart. She daintily extended her wrist from her lace cuff and wrote her name in neat, small letters.

Hobny collected the papers, waving each one to help dry the ink. Ben’s father and Dr. Bucknell shared a grin and a wink.

It was on their heads when things went wrong. Ben would do his best.

Heading back toward his office, he matched strides with Carl, his boots kicking up dust. This month was going to be like wrestling a sack full of wildcats.

“This is going to be a mess, isn’t it?” Carl broke into his thoughts. “Can you imagine a little hothouse flower like Mrs. Hart cleaning stalls and forking hay out of the mow? She doesn’t belong out here on the prairie at all, much less in a stable. All those ruffles and lace and flounces won’t last long in a stable. I bet she’ll take one look at Misery and the muck heap and scoot right back to whatever big city she came from.”

“Yeah, and what do you think Cassie Bucknell is going to do with my job? The spring trail drives will be heading through here any day now. One of those outfits hits town and busts loose, you think Cassie’s going to be able to stop them? They’ll snap her like a twig.”

“At least you have a deputy to help her out. I work alone.”

“So why’d you sign the contract?”

Carl shrugged. “Folks were so excited, I hated to let them down. Why’d you?”

“I guess for the same reason. That and when I saw the competition I was up against, I figured it’d be an easy win.” He grinned. “You can’t bake, Mrs. Hart looks like she wouldn’t know one end of a horse from the other, and Cassie will probably accidentally lock herself into a jail cell before the first day is over. All I have to do is babysit some kids for a few hours every day. I’m a shoo-in for the win.”

They passed the mercantile, the milliner’s shop, and the feed store in silence before arriving at the jail. Jigger sat out front, his chair tipped back and leaning against the adobe wall. Wood chips littered the boardwalk as he reduced a stick to sawdust with his jackknife. “I heard you two were going to play schoolmarm and pastry chef.” He brushed a few shavings off his vest.

“Word travels fast in this town.” Ben shook his head, surveying the peaceful street.

“Nothing better to do than gossip on a quiet day like this. Can’t say I’m looking forward to taking orders from a slip of a girl with no notion of how to run a jail, but this year’s Challenge is shaping up to be fun to watch.”

“Wish I was watching this one from a safe distance. I’m not exactly looking forward to teaching school any more than Carl is to selling pies and cookies.”

“It’s not the selling I mind so much as the baking. I can just about boil water, and I make good oat bran mash—no complaints from my horses, but I cannot sell mash in the bakery. I’ll be lucky if I don’t poison someone.”

“Don’t you think it’s about time you got married again? You need someone to take care of you,” Ben said.

“You should talk.” Carl ran his hand down his beard.

“Me? What do I need with a wife? You forget I have a ma and pa who live in town. If I want a home-cooked meal, all I have to do is head over there. You’ve been alone for what, three years now? That’s more than long enough.”

“Not for me. I won’t marry again.”

“Why not? You like being alone?”

“This land is hard on people, especially women. I would not want to lose another one. Anyway, why are we talking about marriage? I thought we were talking about the Cactus Creek Challenge.”

Ben dug a toothpick out of his shirt pocket and tucked it into the corner of his mouth, savoring the flavor of the peppermint oil he’d soaked it in. “You don’t mind running the bakery, but you can’t bake. I don’t mind teaching school, except for the kids. We’ve got a dainty widow who’s supposed to run a stable and a redheaded kid who’s supposed to protect the town. What could possibly go wrong?” He pushed his hat back and studied the buildings across the street, including the cute little bakery just opposite, with its lace curtains, window boxes, and pretty blue-painted door. He couldn’t imagine a bruiser like Carl inside such a feminine establishment. Up the street at the livery, a wagon sat up on blocks, its wheels removed for new rims. Misery, Carl’s unpredictable and moody stallion trotted around his turnout pen, stomping and bucking and looking every inch the temperamental stud he was. A wheelbarrow of dirty straw stood in the open doorway, a pitchfork sticking out of the mound. Miss Jenny would never survive.

He wasn’t sure which pairing was more wrong, Carl and Jenny or him and Cassie.

A couple of cowboys all but fell through the swinging doors of the Royal Saloon and staggered up the boardwalk before disappearing into Barney’s Bar and Pool Hall. He recognized the Shoop brothers, the town’s resident rabble-rousers. Nope, he knew which one was worse.

“How come we seem to be the only two who realize what a mistake this is?”

M
onday morning, the first of the month, Ben was jumpier than a flea at a dog show. Walking from the boardinghouse to the school on the edge of town, he reminded himself that he’d given Jigger thorough instructions and consoled himself that if real trouble broke out, he’d just be at the school. From the front steps of the schoolhouse he would have a clear view down Main Street and could come running. He rubbed his gritty eyes, regretting his insomnia the night before.

Kids ran and squealed and laughed, looking like a crowd of a hundred rather than the dozen or so he knew they were. The white-frame building might as well’ve been the Texas Penitentiary with the dread he felt at each footstep. One of the few board-and-batten buildings in town, the school was brand-new, having been built the summer before.

Most of the older structures in Cactus Creek were adobe, wood being at a premium out here on the treeless prairie. There were even some stick-and-daub and sod houses, though nobody lived in them anymore. They were used for storage or stables. Since the arrival of the Fort Worth & Denver Railway to town just last year, it was easier to get building materials and supplies out here to the Panhandle. Cactus Creek even boasted a lumberyard now, and as a result, several houses were under construction. The doc had the nicest house in town, a two-story affair with a big porch and tall windows. The only building taller was the new church, if you counted the steeple.

The kids stopped and stared as he drew up to the steps. The door stood open, and he felt their eyes on him as he went inside, a condemned man being led to the gallows. In the foyer he took a deep breath and gathered himself. This was no way for a grown man and a sworn officer of the law to act. If the citizens of Cutler County, Texas, knew how skittish he was, they’d take back his badge.

“Good morning.”

He whirled on his boot heel. Cassie replaced the stoneware lid on the water cooler in the corner of the entryway and tucked a stray curl behind her ear.

“G’mornin’.” He tucked his fingertips into the pockets of his jeans. “Nine o’clock, you said.”

“That’s right.” She crossed her arms at her waist, looking about twelve years old. “Do you want me to show you around?”

“I suppose.” He followed her into the schoolroom. Long shafts of sunlight flowed through the east windows and lay in blocks on the floor and desks. The smell of paper and chalk dust and lunch pails took him right back to his own school days. Her skirts brushed the floor, and the fabric whispered and rustled with a sound he’d never associated with her before. She’d pinned her bright hair up high on her head, and the mass looked too heavy for her slender neck. How on earth would she manage the job of sheriff for a whole month?

“The attendance book is here with all the children’s names, ages, and grade levels. I’ve placed a schedule in the back of the book. The students know the routine, and they’ll help you. You shouldn’t have any trouble as long as you stick to the routine. Though you should know that there are some pranksters in the group.”

“We’ll do just fine.” He grinned, hoping he sounded more confident than he felt. “Teaching can’t be that hard. I’m pretty good with my figures and I spell good.” After all, if a girl barely out of pinafores could do it, surely he could.

“You spell
well
.”

“Yes, ma’am, I do.” He grinned.

“So you think teaching is easy? That what I do is so insignificant?” She straightened, and her green eyes pinned him in place. “Do you place no importance on getting a proper education? How do you expect the next generation to take their place in society if they aren’t well schooled? Teachers have a great responsibility. You might be educating the next governor of Texas or president of the United States.”

He burst out laughing at her passionate eruption, but when her eyes sparked and grew hot, he shifted his weight. “Not that it isn’t important, but do you really think one of those scoundrels outside is going to be president? You might be aiming just a bit north of optimistic.”

She sighed. “Well, if you’re that confident, then there’s nothing else I need to tell you. I guess I’ll head down to the jail and begin my duties. If you’ll hand over your badge and gun, I’ll be on my way.”

His hand was already reaching for the badge, but he froze. “My gun?”

“Your pistol.” She pointed to the Colt holstered at his side. “You surely won’t need it in school. It wouldn’t be proper to have a weapon in the classroom.”

He laughed and plucked the star from his shirt. “Cassie, you can
borrow
the badge, but the gun stays with me. This pistol goes with me everywhere—work, church, even the necessary. I’d feel unclothed without it. And you don’t need to worry about the kids. I never leave this”—he patted the gun butt—“unattended.”

“How am I supposed to be the sheriff without a firearm?” She put her hands on her hips and stared up at him.

He almost patted her on the head since she looked so cute and disgruntled, but he figured she’d take to that about as well as a rattlesnake to having his teeth brushed. “Well, your dad said you were a smart little thing who would figure out the best way to do my job without my help, so I’ll just leave that up to you.”

“He said I was smart and resourceful. He did not call me ‘a smart little thing.’” She crossed her arms and tapped her lip with her finger.

“Well, there you go. You always were a quick one. One of the sharpest little girls in school, I always thought. When you weren’t getting stuck in a tree.” He couldn’t resist teasing her about that particular incident, and he didn’t miss the tightening of her lips. “I imagine you’ll figure out how to get the job done. Either that or you can call it quits now and back out of the Challenge.”

Sparks snapped in her eyes. “You’re impossible, Ben Wilder.” She snatched the badge from his hand and stomped out.