The Cactus Creek Challenge Read Online Free Page B

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.
    Ben chuckled and shook his head. Always haring off in a snit, just like a kid. He’d give her a week at the most. She’d cave and quit, and he could go back to sheriffing, and she could go back to dressing up and sitting behind a desk all day. But for now he was the teacher, and he’d best do some teaching.
    “If you’re gonna teach ’em, you’d best go round them up.” He braced himself with a deep breath and walked outside.
    He was met on the steps by a pair of grubby faces. Grubby identical faces.
    “You’re the new teacher, ain’t you?” asked one.
    “We heard all about you from our pa. He says if we’re bad, you’ll lock us up in the jail. Is that true?” asked the other.
    “Ma says you can’t lock kids up, but we never know when Pa’s joshin’ us, though I guess we should know, since he joshes
all
the time.”
    Ben found his head swiveling between them as they took turns peppering him with their words.
    “Mama says we’re
exactly
like him, but that just makes him laugh.”
    “Will you lock us up in the jail? We want to know what it’s like.”
    “Can we ring the bell?”
    “The bell?” Ben tried to grab hold of the conversation, but it proved to be slippery. The boys finished each other’s sentences and budged in on each other’s words almost seamlessly.
    “To call the kids in.”
    “Miss Bucknell rings the bell every morning.”
    “She said we could if you said it was all right.”
    “We figured you wouldn’t mind if we rang it, since we’re finally off pr’bation again.”
    “Miss Bucknell puts us on pr’bation seems like every other day or so, but we ain’t been bad in pert near a week, so can we?”
    Feeling as if he was the rope in a tug-o-war, he nodded. “Sure, go ahead.”
    They bolted past him and returned with a handbell, wrastling it between them, four dirty little hands grabbing at the handle, clanging the clapper in discordant little jerks.
    “That’s enough, boys. Thanks.” He took it from them, standing back as kids streamed past him. He counted an even dozen, the smallest a girl with long golden sausage curls and large blue eyes who looked to be about six or seven, and the biggest a girl of about fifteen or sixteen who blushed and ducked her head when he looked at her. In between were an assortment of kids in overalls and pinafores. None of them as individuals looked too threatening, but as a group, they appeared just this side of terrifying.
    While they clattered their lunch pails and slapped books onto desktops, he hung his hat on a peg by the door and made his way to the front of the room. Sliding the chair out, he sat and regarded them. Twelve pairs of eyes stared back.
    He’d rather face the Sam Bass Gang unarmed and in nothing but his long johns.
    Stop being so foolish. It’s a roomful of kids, not outlaws. You told Cassie you could handle it, and you can
.
    What should he do first?
    His eyes fell on the attendance book. Aha!
    “I’m going to take attendance. I’ll call out your name, and you let me know if you’re here or not.” That way he could match names with faces and kill two birds, as it were.
    One of the twins snickered. “How’re we gonna tell you if we’re not here?”
    A titter went through the group, but he gave them his best stern look, and they quieted.
    “Amanda Hart.”
    Silence.
    He quickly counted the names in the book. Twelve names, twelve children.
    “Amanda?”
    Her age was listed as seven. He looked at the youngest girl, closest to him on the front row all by herself—or rather he looked at the top of her head. She stared at her