“I was going to put the cover back on the well, but then you told me to go help Pa.” Tears trembled on the brim of the boy’s eyes. Another year and he’d be too old to cry about a kitten, but that didn’t mean anything today.
Betsy held her tongue between her teeth as she concentrated. “Every time the bucket comes near the kitten, it bounces it under. It can’t take too many more hits.”
Joel reached down to catch his foot and yanked a boot loose.
Betsy turned and raised an eyebrow that was a tad darker than her blond hair. “You’re gonna?”
“If you want the job . . .”
“Be my guest.”
He tossed the second boot, unfastened his gun belt, and after a long hard look at Betsy, laid it on the ground behind him. He didn’t like giving up his security, but hopefully taking a dunking of a cold morning would impress someone.
Standing barefoot he took another look down the well and shivered, but it wasn’t getting any warmer. Betsy had already motioned the mother and son to come to her. The mother set the youngster down, and then they lined up with both hands on the rope and braced themselves like they were getting ready to take on a locomotive at tug-of-war.
“How much do you think I weigh?” he asked as he hung his feet over the edge.
“It’s the cat that has me worried,” Betsy said.
“There’s only one pulley,” the other woman said, “so the amount of force required is directly proportionate on a one-to-one ratio.”
What was she? Some kind of engineer? Joel leaned forward to grasp the rope. The trio stumbled forward a few feet, then held steady. He didn’t want to stay overlong. They couldn’t hold him all day.
The well was deeper than he’d expected, but then again, they were on top of a mountain. Hand over hand he eased down, only then realizing he should’ve tested the spindle on the well before beginning this journey. The earthy smell of damp rocks grew even stronger as the circle of blue sky above his head shrank.
When his toes brushed the water, it made his toenails curl. Mountain-spring fed. Like ice. The water slipped over his ankles, then his knees. He gritted his teeth and tried not to whimper. He wished he could let go and plunge in, just to get it over with, but that would drown the blamed cat for sure.
Holding the rope with one hand, he unbuttoned the collar on his shirt, then reached down and grabbed the kitten by the scruff of the neck. The pathetic little thing shivered uncontrollably. Well, he knew how it felt. Still holding his body out of the water, he shoved the kitten into his shirt. Needlelike claws scratched him all the way down, but soon the kitten had settled atop his belt, its body quivering.
“Coming up,” he hollered.
The rope wobbled, bouncing him with its movement as the ladies tried to pull him up.
“Just wait,” he hollered. “I’ll climb out.”
He didn’t need a boy and some womenfolk to hoist him out of a well, but by the time he reached the top, the idea had more merit. He grasped the spindle that held the pulley and swung his legs up and over the side. Walking his hands along the brace, he regained his balance and finally got his cold bare feet on the ground.
The boy’s mouth trembled despite his fierce efforts for control. His eyes traveled from Joel’s empty hands to the well behind him, but he didn’t have the courage to ask.
Joel slid his hand into his shirt, which was now bereft of a button, and pulled out the raggedy animal. The tension in the boy’s face melted, and his eyes rolled up as if in a prayer of thanksgiving.
“There you go. Safe and sound.”
Joel didn’t flinch, even as the kid threw himself toward him and wrapped his arms around his waist. Joel stood with arms upraised, unsure what to do. The mother was beaming at him, too.
Well, he’d needed to make allies. If a dunk in a freezing well was the best way to do it, then so be it.
Chapter 9
He’d saved a kitten from a well. A child in the well would’ve been better. Betsy looked at her nephew. No, she absolutely could not toss him in. Katie Ellen would skin her alive. But since she was writing fiction, it didn’t matter who Deputy Puckett saved. She could make Eduardo Pickett’s story read however she wanted. What if he rescued a little girl who was complected like a china doll and could sing like a mockingbird? Wouldn’t the women swoon over that? Betsy smiled. All in all, the deputy had done pretty well for his first day, and she’d see to it that her fictional hero did even better.
And then there was his appearance. Deputy Puckett held his leg out to the side and shook it about. Betsy dearly wished that he’d slipped off the rope and gotten drenched. That’d make a better story, but she’d work with what she had.
Katie Ellen returned from the sale barn and handed Douglas a rag to wrap the kitten in. “My gracious, I didn’t know how I was going to get that thing out of there,” she said. “I’m Mrs. Huckabee, by the way. My husband, Josiah, works here at the auction house. I’m sure happy you came along when you did.”
“Just doing my job,” Deputy Puckett said with no little pride.
“What kind of job?” she asked.