The Cactus Creek Challenge by Erica Vetsch

out of their heads, and they know as well as I do that once they’re out of school, they won’t use a blessed scrap of all this book learning. As long as they can read and write some and do some ciphering, that should be enough.”
    “It isn’t useless information.” She felt as if he’d just slapped down everything she’d studied for and held dear.
    “If you can explain to me how the son of a cattle rancher who will grow up to be a cattle rancher will ever use parsing participles or need to know when the Magna Carta was signed, I’ll agree with you.”
    “You assume he would grow up to be a cattle rancher and never aspire to be anything else. And how is more knowledge of the world we live in and the language we speak a bad thing?”
    “It’s a bad thing if they’re spending so much time learning things that don’t matter that they miss out on the things that do.”
    Her mind boiled over with things she wanted to say, but his hubris and illogic made it impossible to clarify her thoughts. She put her chin in the air. “I guess importance is a matter of opinion.”
    He shrugged. “I guess it is, honey, and I’m too tired to fight with you anymore today.” Hands on his hips, he surveyed the room. “I like the improvements you’ve made around here. You just can’t keep the curtains. Everything else looks fine.”
    Honey. He’d called her honey. Suddenly, she could forgive him anything.
    “After all,” his cheeks stretched in a broad, annoying grin, “I should’ve expected it from a girl, all this sprucing up and daintiness. I suppose after I win this Challenge and get my badge back, me’n Jigger will have to start using coasters for our coffee cups and putting doilies and bud vases in the cells.”
    The man was an imbecile.

    “Is that all you have?” Jake from the barber shop scowled. “I was hoping for something to satisfy my sweet tooth.”
    “Put some honey on them. They’re fresh. What more do you want?” Carl set the tray of biscuits on the counter.
    “Not biscuits.”
    “Too bad, because that’s all I got. The Clover Leaf hands cleaned me out of pretty near everything on Monday, and what they didn’t take got snapped up yesterday.” He scratched his beard. Ungrateful public. He’d spent all morning making biscuits. He’d even rolled them out and cut circles with a glass instead of just dropping spoonfuls of dough on the pans, and this was the thanks he got. It wasn’t his fault the council had stuck him in a bakery when all he knew how to bake was biscuits.
    “You want some or not?”
    “Naw, I’ll go over to the general store and get a stick of candy.” Jake shoved away from the counter and slammed the door on the way out.
    It had been the same all day. What was he supposed to do? He’d ruined that cake thingy, and the bread he’d punched down and baked on Monday would make a nice doorstop, but it wasn’t fit for eating. Jenny had left more batter and dough before she headed to the stable this morning, but he hadn’t any notion what it was or how long to cook it.
    With a sigh that ruffled the paper doily on the display shelf, he went about transferring biscuits from baking sheet to plate. Fluffy, flaky, sourdough biscuits lined every shelf and filled every corner. His mama’s recipe, the only thing she’d ever taught him to cook. He’d even brought his sourdough starter from home yesterday to make the first batch.
    How would the doc’s wife react to a cake made out of biscuits? The idea of being responsible for that wedding cake still made his gut hurt.
    The back door squeaked. Must be time for the little missy to get home. Taking up the baking sheet, he headed for the kitchen.
    Her dress was blue today, the same color as her eyes … and her mama’s eyes. Two wee braids lay on her shoulders, smaller around than his thumb, and each ending in a perfect little bow. He envisioned her mama parting her hair, brushing it, plaiting it while they talked, the way his mother had