Joel had wanted to be a sheriff someday, and he was willing to work the extra hours and cover the extra miles to do it. That allowed no time for dancing attendance on a girl. Growing up in a house with three older sisters had made him gun-shy of matrimony. Frills and curls meant fussing and bickering, and he wanted nothing to do with that, much to the distress of the conniving mothers throughout Blackstone County. There wasn’t a force on Earth more powerful than a Texas mama hunting a qualified son-in-law for her precious princess. Their combined efforts to shackle him had failed, until a lady resorted to dishonest measures.
The pony’s ears twitched, then lay flat. Not only was it little, but it was also mean-tempered. Joel dismounted, or stepped off, and went to untether the reins as he mulled over the decisions that had led to this disaster.
That night a month ago, when Joel had ridden out to check on a wrecked buggy, he had no idea he was riding into a trap. By the next morning, Mr. Blount was in the sheriff’s office insisting that Deputy Puckett marry his daughter, Mary. Joel’s protests went unheeded. Sheriff Green was up for re-election and he didn’t need the distraction. “Marry the girl,” he ordered Joel, “and then get back to work.”
Joel refused, killing his career and his good reputation. The sheriff was generous enough to tell Joel about this position in the distant Ozark Mountains, but only if Joel kept the sheriff’s recommendation secret. Sure, his parents knew where he was, but if word got back to the Blount family that he hadn’t turned in his badge, they’d be incensed—still furious that instead of netting a son-in-law, their plans had only blackened their daughter’s name.
They were responsible, but Joel had paid the price. And why had God allowed it? Wasn’t God supposed to fight his battles for him? Wasn’t God the vindicator of those falsely accused? Then why was he stuck in this backwoods town with only a disgraceful animal to help him?
By the force of his will, Joel stilled his heart. He scanned the rocky streets of Pine Gap. He had a fresh start here. No one knew about Texas, and Texas didn’t know about Pine Gap. He was wiser now and better acquainted with the dangers of female connivances. True, no one wanted him here, but soon he’d earn their trust and these shenanigans would end. That was what he had to aim for. Until then, he’d keep his patience. Keep his eyes fixed on God and stay above reproach, above question.
He had to succeed here, because he was out of options.
Chapter 8
The pony twisted its head to nip at Joel’s knee, which was way too close to those teeth as it was. No wonder it was in a foul mood. The little thing wasn’t made to carry this much man. He felt foolish riding it, but the only other option had been to sit at the jail and gaze at the beautiful stallion tied up in front of Mayor Walters’s dry goods store.
Seeing how coveting was breaking a commandment, Joel had decided to poke around town and introduce himself to the townsfolk instead. The morning had come and gone, and still the erstwhile sheriff had yet to appear. Time to find him and make his acquaintance.
The houses were close to the road but still hard to spot through the trees. Even where lawns had been cleared, saplings sprang up, attesting to the resistance of the forest. Must be a constant struggle to keep any space clear here. Back home people planted trees for shade. He guessed no one was ever satisfied with what they’d got.
He’d gotten as far as the edge of town when he recognized the house from the night before. Mrs. Sanders, was it? But last night he’d thought the sheriff’s house had been in the direction that the bandits had ridden. He was all turned around and not even sure he’d set out in the right direction from the first. If only he knew who was trustworthy.
Joel hadn’t counted on how hard it’d be to just jump in and start swimming. In Garber, he’d known from childhood who was a troublemaker, what parts of town were poison, and who could be trusted to tell the truth. Here, it’d take some time to figure it out. He suspected that those burlap sacks weren’t the only masks being worn by the citizenry.
The pony was of a mind to turn to the left at the crossroads. Joel pulled on the reins to stop him. The ornery thing backed up a few steps. He loosened the reins just as its ears went back. It was getting agitated, and so was he. The horse danced sideways, balked, and then did what Joel had known was inevitable—tried to buck him off.
“No you don’t.” He tightened his knees around the horse’s small barrel. If this little mountain pony thought it could throw him . . . It bucked again, curving its back with the effort. Joel’s teeth jarred. The short legs connected with the ground before he was prepared. His timing was off, but he would prevail.
A giggle. Out of the corner of his eye, Joel caught the outline of a woman standing in the trees. The reins slipped. The pony reared, then plunged. Joel came out of the saddle, but he didn’t fall off. Instead he landed smack-dab on the saddle horn.
The pain was intense. His legs went weak and his stomach cramped as he slid to the side and fell to the ground, which fortunately wasn’t too far away. He held onto the reins as he lay on his side and tried to breathe again. A calico skirt danced into his limited view, accompanied by worn brown boots.
“Give me the reins,” she said.
He coughed. Almost gagged. Forced his voice to steady. “No.”