The Cactus Creek Challenge (27 page)

“Good thinking. You have the makings of a real lawman.” He smiled, and she drew in a breath. The praise fell like rain on her parched soul, and she blossomed.

Once they got the gold moved, Rand surprised her. “There’s no sense all four of us being cooped up inside. The corporal and I can stay here. You go see about a new strongbox, and your deputy here looks like he could use a little time with that arm propped up. Maybe he can sit down at the store or ease through the saloons and see if he can pick up on what folks are saying about the gold being here.”

It was a sound plan, and Cassie knew it, but it was hard not to feel she should be here with the gold, at least in the daytime since she’d promised her father she wouldn’t stay at night.

“Very well. I’ll see about the box, deliver the cell key to the safe, and take a turn around the town; then I’ll be back.”

“Knock first. Anybody tries to come in without knocking, we’ll start shooting.”

Cassie swallowed and nodded, trying not to give in to the temptation to yank off her badge and run back to the schoolhouse to hide.

Ben knew he was acting like a bear with a badger-bitten behind, but he couldn’t seem to stop. Why couldn’t she see reason? And who was that guy Franks, anyway, siding with her when he didn’t even know the situation?

The memory of her standing up to the Shoop brothers in the street made his knees wobble. Not that she hadn’t given them something to think about, whacking Melvin’s arm with her pistol, but what was she doing taking them on like that when there were plenty of men with guns around to do it? Why did she think she had to whip her weight in wildcats every day?

He yanked open the schoolhouse door, ready to corral the kids, only to find them sitting on the platform taking turns weaving strips of yucca into a basket, and though there were some gaps and bulges in the project that bespoke their novice attempts, they were using the technique he’d taught them last week and had made some real progress. Unfortunately, they hadn’t drained the yucca too well after soaking it in the creek to make it pliable. A puddle had formed around the edges of the pile and looked to be advancing along the floor. He snagged the cloth they used to wash the blackboards off the nail by the back door and tossed it onto the encroaching dampness, mopping it up with his boot.

Mary Alice sat behind the teacher’s desk sewing beads onto the parfleche the class had made out of a deer hide Ben had cured last winter, and Amanda stood at her side, handing her beads from a little box on the desk.

“Kids, did you have your lunch?”

Heads turned.

“Yep, what are we going to do next?” Pierce hopped up, scattering yucca leaves and willow staves.

Ben rubbed the back of his neck. Someone from the group asked that question at least ten times a day. As eager as they were to learn, he was constantly scrambling to come up with something to satisfy their curiosity and give them useful information they would need to succeed in life on the Texas plains.

“Grab your tablets and pencils. We’re going on a walk. We learned last Friday about the different plants and grasses you find here on the prairie. Now you’re going to pair off and go find at least fifteen different leaves or flowers or grasses, pick them, label them, and draw them. Find me something that is safe to eat and something that is poisonous to eat.”

Ulysses screwed up his face. “Why do we have to draw them? Ain’t it enough to know what they are and whether you can eat ’em or not?”

“No, it’s not. You’re creating a field journal like an explorer so that someone else can pick up your work and learn from it. Don’t forget, draw the whole plant and bring back at least one leaf and flower if it’s a flowering plant. Steer clear of picking anything with barbs or thorns unless you’re wearing your gloves. Got it? Stay out of town, and don’t cross the creek. There’s plenty of stuff for you to look at between the school and the creek bank.”

They abandoned the basketwork, leaving the pile of yucca in a damp heap on the schoolhouse floor. Mary Alice was more circumspect, gathering her sewing and the beads and laying them atop the new bookshelves. Tablets and pencils in hand, they all raced out into the sunshine.

He drew his fingers across the freshly painted surface of the bookshelves, and heat prickled his chest. As it had a dozen times, his mind went back to when he had his arms around Cassie, showing her how to use the saw and being distracted by the feel of her so close, the way her hair tickled his cheek, and how her eyes had sparkled when she’d finally sawn through the board. And as he did every time his mind went there, he yanked it back.

Time to get outside. He didn’t think about her so much when he was outside concentrating on the kids.

Settling his hat on his head, he clattered down the steps. The children had fanned out, and most were sitting or squatting in the grass, heads bent, pencils working. He smiled at their enthusiasm. Once he’d abandoned the tedious, sissy, book stuff on Cassie’s to-do list, the kids had really taken to school and could be counted on to be obedient. Well, mostly obedient. The terrible twins still gave him a run for his money.

Their golden heads bobbed as they ran in a beeline for the creek. Trust them to get as close to the boundaries as possible as quickly as possible. They’d probably try to uproot one of the scrub willows and drag it back for their nature study. Or fill their notebook with pictures of prickly pear or Spanish needle grass or sandburs.

Little Amanda stood in the sunshine fingering the end of her braid while Mary Alice drew a star thistle. He walked over, careful not to spook her. She didn’t edge away as she would have when he first started this schoolteacher lark, but she didn’t look directly at him either, casting glances up from under lashes and out the side of her eye.

“How’re you coming along, ladies?”

Mary Alice blushed and added a few strokes to the page. “I wish I was a better artist. All my flowers look the same.”

He compared a couple of her drawings and silently agreed with her, though he wouldn’t say so. Not only did her flowers all look the same, but they also didn’t look much like flowers. “Do the best you can; that’s all you can do. Maybe you could give Amanda a shot at drawing one. There’s some sunflowers starting to bloom over in the road ditch and some cattail reeds along the creek.”

“Do you want to try to draw one, Amanda?” She held out the tablet.

Amanda shook her head.

“Go on, try it. Be brave. You might be good at it. Better than I am, that’s for sure.”

“I’m not brave.” She whispered the words, but he heard them clearly.

Easing down on his knees, he leaned a little to her right until they locked eyes. He was so happy she’d finally broken her silence in his presence, he wanted to keep her talking. “Who said you weren’t brave?”

“My daddy.” She lowered her eyes and stared at the ground between them. “He said I was scared as a mouse and I didn’t have any fort … fort …” Her blue eyes narrowed as she searched for the word. “Fortitude. What’s that mean?”

“It means gumption or sand or grit, and your daddy was dead wrong.”

She shook her head, her braids sliding up and down her shoulders, and her face sad. “I’m afraid all the time.”

“Being brave doesn’t mean you’re not afraid. Being brave means stuffing your fear into your hat and then sitting on your hat. I sorta find folks are as brave as they have to be. Today you draw a flower, tomorrow you ride a horse or wrestle a bear or stop some train robbers.” He chucked her under the chin, sad when she flinched. “You just have to decide you’re going to do it and not let anything stop you.”

She eyed him skeptically but took the pencil from Mary Alice and went with her to the road ditch to study the sunflowers. Small progress, but progress nonetheless.

He counted heads again, came up with a dozen, and let his attention wander toward town. A couple of wagons and teams stood along Main Street, and Mr. Svenson swept his boardwalk again. He was obsessive about keeping the floors and boardwalk of his store clean and must go through a broom a month.

The bakery door stood open. Carl seemed to be doing better at making cookies and cakes, but Ben had a feeling that Jenny was restocking things on the weekends.

The bricklayers were almost finished with the bank. Their scaffolding encased the building like the bars of a cell. If the workers would have been faster, maybe the bank would be finished and that gold would be the banker, Mr. Carruthers’s, responsibility. It could have gone in his safe instead of the jail.

Movement caught his eye, and his chest tightened.

Cassie closed the sheriff’s office door behind her and sashayed up the street as if she hadn’t a care in the world. Sunshine gleamed on her copper-bright hair. She mounted the steps in front of the mercantile, spoke to Mr. Svenson, and they both went inside.

He envisioned them walking through the store to the back where Hobny Jones kept the office where he did his “lawyering,” and Hobny removing the leather-bound law books to reveal his small safe set into the thick adobe wall. Dial in the combination, swing open the door, and lay the key inside with whatever papers and treasures he kept in there, shut the door, give the dial a spin, and replace the books—Ben went through the steps in his head.

When enough time had passed for all that to be accomplished, he rocked on his heels, glancing over his shoulder to check on the kids from time to time, waiting to see Cassie reappear. But she didn’t. What was she doing in there? Had Hobny forgotten the combination? Had someone intercepted her? Nothing else moved in the street save a swirl of grit stirred up by a passing gust of wind.

He had just made up his mind to go see what was going on when she emerged from the store. He exhaled and shook his head. What was wrong with him? He had Cassie on the brain, and it was affecting his work.

She waved to him and started toward the school. He didn’t know if he was glad or annoyed. The last thing he wanted was to have her spouting off about how she had everything under control, that standing guard over a fortune in gold wasn’t that big of a deal, and how he didn’t need to worry. He was worried, and that was that, and it worried him that she wasn’t more worried.

“You look mad.” Her voice carried across the open space.

He glanced down at his arms folded across his chest and his boots braced apart and forced himself to relax. She drew up in front of him, flashing him the jade sparkles that made his heart whump against his breastbone. The breeze teased the hair at her temples, and for some outlandish reason, his fingertips itched to touch the tendrils and smooth them back into the braid she wore coiled on the back of her head. Or loosen the braid altogether and let the bright hair tumble around her shoulders.
Whoa, son, where did that come from?

“What are the children doing now?” She leaned to look around him. “Are the twins climbing trees?”

He tore his eyes away from her face and looked toward the creek where two lithe bodies appeared and disappeared among the foliage of a wind-twisted hackberry. “Yep. They’re doing a nature study of the vegetation of the plains.”

“They seem to be having a good time, but aren’t you concerned about them getting behind in their lessons with all these outings and nature studies? Are they keeping up on their arithmetic and spelling and grammar?”

Ben waved his finger in her face. “Ah, ah, ah, no butting in, remember? They’re learning, and that’s what matters. Did you get the key delivered?”

“Yes. And Rand and the corporal are sitting with the gold.”

“Rand?”

She nodded. “Mr. Franks.”

“First names already, huh? What are you supposed to do if they’re watching the gold?”

“Patrol the town. Jigger is going to poke around and see if he can pick up any gossip. Rand and Corporal Shipton will stay with the gold.”

“What about when they need to eat or … go outside?” He jammed his hands into his pockets and locked his elbows at his sides.

“I’m taking them food, and they’ll … spell each other when one needs a break.” She ran the tip of her tongue along her bottom lip and watched the kids zigzagging through the grass.

Had her features always been so delicate? The top two buttons of her blouse were open, and the wind pushed back one side, revealing the outline of her collarbone and the hollow of her throat. He swallowed hard and raised his eyes to stare at the horizon.

“Well?” Her hands went to her hips.

“Huh?”

Her green eyes rolled. “I asked if there was anything else you could think of to keep the gold safe, but I guess not. You’re woolgathering, so either you think my preparations and precautions are sufficient, or you think they’re so woeful that they don’t even bear listening to.”

“Stop trying to do my thinking for me.” The words came out gruffer than he had intended because he didn’t want her to guess what his mind had really been on. “If you’re supposed to be sheriffing, then you’d best get back to it.”
Before I do something stupid like forget you’re supposed to be like a sister to me
.

Her chin came up. “Fine then. I don’t know what’s come over you, Benjamin Wilder, but I liked you a lot better before we switched places.”