Sissy had gone to the window. “They’re here.” She fumbled with the lock and swung the door open, Laurel hot on her heels.
Doctor Hopkins entered and fell into his wife’s arms. She sobbed as she inspected him from his soot-covered head to his scorched feet. “Are you—are you all right? You aren’t hurt anywhere, are you?”
“I’m tired as all get-out, but I’m not hurt.”
Sissy’s tears streamed down her face, having feared the worst for her friends. “What about the house and the barn? Did you get the fire out?”
Hopkins’s eyes seemed to focus on a far-off calamity. “We saved the animals and most of the barn.”
“But the house?” Laurel’s hands trembled against his coat. “How much damage . . .”
“It’s gone,” he said. “The whole thing is gone. I didn’t dare come out of hiding until I had witnesses there—too afraid he might get me after all—and by that time it was too late. No one could go inside.”
His girls burst into tears. With an open arm, he welcomed them to join the tight, sad family huddle.
Betsy’s eyes darted around the room. Nothing in the cabin really belonged to her, but she still couldn’t imagine losing everything from the stacks of newspapers in the office to the broom she swept with.
Even over the scent of the fireplace, the men reeked of smoke. Joel stepped inside to face Laurel, although he looked like he’d rather be anywhere else.
“Mrs. Hopkins, saying I’m sorry isn’t enough. We’re going to catch who did this, and when I’m not hunting them down, I’ll be there helping you rebuild.”
But Laurel couldn’t answer. With a cry she buried her face in her husband’s chest again. Anna patted her mother’s back, although she managed to bat watery eyes at Joel in the meantime.
Sissy squeezed Uncle Fred’s hand. “I’m going to move some beds around and make room for Doc.” He nodded his consent.
Betsy fell to moving the table against the wall and pulling the rag rug next to the fire. She’d offer to give up her cot if it’d help, but no one was looking to sleep in the office. She caught the opposite ends of the quilts as Sissy unfurled them and helped spread them evenly until they had a nice pad to sleep on. It was only the work of a few moments, but Doctor Hopkins already looked ready to collapse.
“I kept asking if anyone was hurt, but no one would let me tend to them. In the morning, I’m going to see Calbert. He has a nasty cut—nothing to worry about, Betsy—but someone needs to clean it.”
“My ma will do it just fine,” she said. “Don’t worry about Pa.”
“We’d better let the ladies get some rest,” Uncle Fred said, since everyone was standing in the way of his pallet. That was Betsy’s cue.
She said her good-nights, only then realizing that Joel had already fled. With her brows knit, she picked up a lamp and went into the office. The poor man. She was the first one to suggest Mr. Sanders was the culprit. Joel had listened to her and bore the blame. In a way he had it worse than the Hopkins family. Everyone would help them. Everyone would rush to their aid, while the whole town would hear how Joel had failed. He’d be reviled, ridiculed, and disrespected. Doc and Laurel had each other and their family. Joel had no one. He was all alone.
Betsy was impulsive in every area save one. Where men were concerned, she’d never ventured anything. Let others wear their hearts on their sleeves; let others chase after masculine attention. Betsy had more interesting pursuits.
But maybe, just maybe, there was a man who needed someone to bolster him tonight. What if he rejected her company? What if he thought her too forward? Was he worth the risk?
Making her decision, Betsy pulled a shawl over her shoulders, snuffed out the lamp, and slipped out the door.
Chapter 23
“No hard feelings.” Mr. Sanders gathered his coat and hat. “Don’t judge my wife too harshly. I should’ve told you up front.”
“You had your reasons.” Joel dropped his hat on the desk. He wished he could assure Sanders that it was fine, but Joel had nothing left to give. He was spent.
“You’ll get through this,” Sanders said. “If Della can forgive me, then people will give you another chance.”
But he hadn’t earned it. They had no reason to trust him. He’d let them down. Joel dropped to his chair. “It’s late.”
“Sometimes God can only work with us after we’ve come to the end of our own efforts,” Sanders said. “You didn’t expect this blow, but if it’s gonna knock you down, make sure you fall toward God, not away.”
Joel had already been leaning on God, hadn’t he? What did another failure teach him?
Sanders didn’t move, just stood, looking him over. Was Joel going to have to throw him out? Finally, with a sigh, Sanders scuffed out of the building, leaving Joel alone in the dark.