“You did. Now tell me about Mrs. Sanders. Is she the kind to be involved in unsavory activities?”
“Not unless you’re talking about rigging the judging in the annual Pine Gap Pie Contest, or the Garden Club Contest, or the Quilting Bee Competition, or—well, let’s just say she’s competitive, but she would never condone lawlessness.”
“How would she respond if her husband was whooping up on her?”
Betsy tilted her chin up and her forehead wrinkled. “I . . . I don’t know. She doesn’t put up with nonsense. I can’t imagine her taking a beating and having nothing to say about it.”
“Well, I can’t arrest him with no evidence. All I can do is watch him—”
“You mean like sit outside his house at night and make sure he doesn’t go after Doctor Hopkins?”
Joel shot her a sideways glance. “Actually that is what I had in mind. And if furniture crashes like you heard, I’ll intervene.”
The memory of the ruckus made her shiver. In her excitement to solve a crime, she’d forgotten that Widow Sanders was likely in mortal danger. If Mr. Sanders was a menace, she’d be very grateful for the brave man at her side.
Had she forgotten about his letter, or was she hoping he’d forgotten about hers? Joel would wager it was the second, but there wasn’t any call for poking a sleeping bear. If Miss Huckabee got too nosy, he’d have to avoid her altogether, and he found that notion lacked appeal. Betsy was proving a reliable place to test his theories. Besides that, her aunt and uncle had extended an open invitation at their table. Having always lived in the same town as his doting mother, Joel had never found reason to handle a skillet. Now he was finding reason after reason to value a friendship with this independent young lady.
As they approached the Murphys’ cabin, Fred came into view, hunched down against the wind. His thin frame curved inward. Between his scarf and his hat, only his eyes were exposed, and they were narrowed to slits.
“The cold hits him hard,” Betsy said. “He doesn’t have an ounce of extra meat on him.”
Joel’s eyes darted to her slender form, but he thought better of commenting. “Your uncle and aunt seem like nice folks,” he said.
Betsy beamed. “The best. I helped Uncle Fred raise his boys after Aunt Doris died. My parents thought coming to town would do me some good. They live out towards the Calhouns and Hopkinses.”
“I’d like to meet them someday.” Saying that surprised him, but it was the truth. If Fred was any indication, he’d have nothing to lose from making their acquaintance.
“Pa comes to town fairly often. And my brother Josiah. Everyone says Scott takes after him.” After a moment, she added, “Thank you for your dealings with Scott. He’s convinced you’re the slickest thing ever. He’s about decided he wants to be a lawman, too, but Sissy doesn’t want him gunning for anyone just yet.”
Joel’s chest warmed at her words. As a boy he’d always dreamed of wearing the badge. No one had told him how precarious the job was. How you had to dodge more than bullets.
“Scott seems like a good boy,” he said. “In a few years he’ll be old enough—”
Down from the hills came trouble. Clive Fowler.
Betsy stopped to wait on him. Joel lowered the sacks of supplies to the ground, just in case.
“Are you hunting us again?” Betsy asked.
“Yes, I am.” The frayed seams of Fowler’s coat waved in the breeze. That coat had probably been worn inside out as much as the right way. “In the spirit of cooperation, I came to report that all is well around Hopkins’s place. So far there’s not been a hair dropped that we don’t know about.”
“I told you to stay away from there.” Joel felt a proclivity to get on his horse. He hated talking up to Fowler, but he had to stand his ground no matter how low it was. “You’re going to mess around and get somebody shot.”
“We know what we’re doing,” Fowler said. “We’ve been protecting our own since before you were born.” He glanced at Betsy. “Just ask the girl. Who does she come to when she hears about trouble? It’s to me.”
It was a low blow. Joel wanted to believe that Betsy had intended to tell him about Doctor Hopkins receiving threats, but he couldn’t quite convince himself that she wasn’t looking for Fowler the whole time. Well, she’d learn to trust him. He knew how to do this right.
“I’m going to sit watch tonight,” Joel said.
“At the doctor’s?” Fowler asked.
“I’m watching Sanders,” Joel said. “If my guess is right, he’s the man.”
“Would you like to bet your life on that?” Fowler asked. “Because you’re asking Doc Hopkins to bet his.”
“If Doctor Hopkins thinks he’s in danger, he’s welcome to bring his family to town,” Joel said.
Betsy rocked forward. “They can stay with us. It’ll be crowded, but Uncle Fred will insist.”