The Cactus Creek Challenge Read Online Free

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?”

C HAPTER 2
    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