The Cactus Creek Challenge by Erica Vetsch Page B

and gave them each a hard stare.
    “You got no call to throw us out. We ain’t even half drunk.” Alvin shot up out of his chair, sending it rocking backward into the wall, setting the birds to flapping and squawking.
    “Then that’s half too much.”
    “I ain’t leaving till I get some cake.” He held up his puny fists.
    “You don’t want to start a fight you can’t finish, Alvin.” Carl loaded his voice with warning but had a feeling he was casting pearls before swine.
    Melvin bolted up. “It’s two against one. I think we can take him, Al.” He staggered, blinking.
    With a speed that he’d been told was surprising in a man of his size, Carl grabbed them each by the bib of their overalls and hustled them toward the door, knocking into chairs and brushing aside tables as he went. Nudging the blue door open with his foot, he shoved them outside where they tumbled off the boardwalk to sprawl in the dirt.
    “You two couldn’t take my grandma in a fight if you were stone-cold sober. Now git.” He dusted off his hands. “Before one of you gets hurt.”
    Alvin bounced up and came at him, arms swinging. Timing his response, Carl smacked the heel of his hand upward into Alvin’s hooked nose. Blood spewed and Alvin screeched, flying backward to land hard on his rump. His hands went up to cover his offended appendage.
    “I warned you. Melvin, pick him up and take him to the doc’s or down to Jake’s. They’ll set his nose and pack it with cotton. And don’t let me ever hear of you causing trouble in this bakery again, understood?”
    When he turned around, Amanda stood in the doorway, her face pale as biscuit dough, and her tiny mouth hanging open. He gave her a feeble smile, chagrinned that she’d had to see that.
    He took one step toward her, holding his hand out, and she backed away, eyes wide. Though Carl went still, she didn’t, turning quick as a flea and racing through the bakery and kitchen. The back door slammed, and his shoulders slumped.

    Jenny trudged along behind the buildings lining Main Street. Weariness had seeped into her marrow, and all she wanted was a hot bath and some willow bark tea. Her forearm throbbed with every step, but she tried to ignore it. Maybe if she didn’t look at the wound, the pain wouldn’t be as severe. As she drew near the bakery’s back door, Carl stepped outside, tossing a full bucket of water into a wide arc to splat in the scruffy grass. The ease with which he accomplished the task made her jealous.
    “Afternoon.” She pushed her hair off her forehead with her good wrist. If her mother could see her now, her mortification would know no bounds. Not a shred of the fine Southern manners her mama had worked so hard to instill remained at the moment. Jenny was bedraggled and filthy and smelled of horse. Her dress was ruined, and her shoes were … better not to think about her shoes.
    “How’d it go today?” The sunlight caught the reddish threads in his hair and beard and lit his hazel eyes.
    “Fine, I think. All the horses are accounted for, eating their heads off, and I didn’t break or lose anything in your workroom.” She sagged onto the bench by the back steps, letting out an unladylike groan and leaning against the siding with her eyes closed.
    He frowned and set the bucket inside the door. “This is crazy. You can’t keep up this pace. The livery is no place for a woman.”
    “I’ll adjust to the work. It’s just taking me a few days to get into the rhythm of it. I’m used to working hard, and once I get organized, things will come easier.” She fervently hoped she was telling the truth. A few more days like this might have her begging the council to be released from the Challenge.
    “I think I might change which project I’m raising money for though.” Jenny cradled her aching arm in her lap. “After toting water up from the creek for fifteen horses and one fat little pony, I’m all for Ben’s watering trough and pump. It would be a