Joel unlatched the gate to the arena to get to the outside door. The latch pin jammed, requiring him to turn around and purposefully reset it, much to the amusement of the crowd.
He prayed for patience. Hopkins’s house had burned to the ground, and that was on him, but it didn’t make it any easier to endure their scorn and ridicule. He just hoped that some of them would entertain the possibility that they might could work together, else what hope had he for bringing the arsonist in?
Once outside, he scanned the pens and saw Josiah absently tapping the backs of calves that had nowhere to go. Just as Betsy had suspected, he was hiding out.
Joel was able to get pretty close to Josiah before he was spotted. Guilt crossed a face that seemed just as easily animated as his little sister’s, but he didn’t make a run for it.
“Do you know why I’m looking for you?”
“I know better than to offer a reason when a lawman asks that question.”
“Don’t worry about me locking you up. The jailhouse is full of women at this moment, and one of them isn’t getting along too well.”
Josiah tugged on the brim of his hat. “I told her to stay home.”
“She wanted to be with you.”
“She doesn’t need me. This is our third young’un, and she’ll do just fine without me.”
Although he’d never sat behind the bench, Joel was a fairly good judge of people. Josiah came from good stock. He just needed a push in the right direction.
“I’ve seen you with your young’uns, and I know a proud papa when I see one.”
Josiah nodded. “I’d do anything for them, but this here, it’s women’s work. I don’t know why she’s so downright insistent on making me be there.”
“How does your wife usually act when she’s scared?”
“Scared? Katie Ellen’s never scared, really. Sometimes she gets where she’s all underfoot and can’t leave me alone. Times she should be scared, instead she’s just hanging around . . .”
“Afraid to let you out of her sight?”
Josiah’s foot, which had been propped up on a rail, dropped to the ground. “She’s never said she was afraid.”
“Would she?”
“Not for all the zinc in Joplin.”
Joel watched as Josiah sorted through the problem. Sometimes those closest to you were the hardest to understand, but Josiah was making a fair attempt.
“She’s at the jail, you said?” Josiah chewed his lip and absently tapped his whip along the calves’ backs. “If you really think she’s scared, then I should be there, shouldn’t I? Nothing wrong with a father helping with the birth of his child.” He shrugged. “I do it for my cows, anyway.”
“Then do it for your wife,” Joel said.
Josiah nodded, then took out for the jailhouse. It felt good to get something right occasionally, but not everyone saw it that way.
“Did you let another one get away from you?” There was the old sheriff, watching the whole exchange. “You might want to take after that Josiah. He ain’t a real outlaw, so you might stand a chance of tracking him.”
Joel ignored the jab. “Is there something I can help you with?”
“I doubt it. Unless we throw a carnival and need a trick rider or roper, then you might come in handy. But as far as real men’s work . . .”
So Sheriff Taney had heard about his roping at the fire? He should’ve known that whoever told the story wouldn’t have painted him with a fair brush. “The investigation is ongoing—” Then he saw the man of the hour approaching. “Doctor Hopkins,” he called. Hopkins came over, looking aged and worn.
“I don’t think the doctor wants to talk to you,” Sheriff Taney said. “Not after you let his house turn to ashes.”
A woman scorned? Hell hath no fury like a former sheriff, more like.
“Deputy Puckett isn’t responsible for my house.” Doctor Hopkins balanced his medical bag atop the fence. “He can’t be everywhere at once.”
“I know who’s responsible.” Fowler rode up on the gathering, sitting tall astride his powerful horse. The stripes on his shirt bowed on their trek across his hefty body. His buttons took the strain as he gathered a breath for his announcement. “It’s Miles Bullard.”
Sheriff Taney waved a hand before his face, chasing away the stink of the very suggestion. “What does Miles Bullard have agin Doctor Hopkins?”
“He’s not coming back to Hart County,” said the doctor, “not with a murder charge against him. But he’s not the only one I’ve made angry. Caesar Parrow got mad when I couldn’t revive his goat that’d fallen in a sinkhole, so I’ve got my enemies.”
“Caesar isn’t your enemy. Bullard is the one to come after you,” Fowler said.
“Then why would he leave the bundle of switches? That doesn’t make sense.”
“Mark my words, Doctor,” Sheriff Taney said. “There’s only one group that does that. You know who’s responsible.” Then, with a glare at Fowler, he was gone.
So the sheriff thought the outlaw was Fowler, Fowler thought it was Bullard, and Hopkins thought it might be retribution over a goat in a sinkhole. In the meantime, Joel’s office had turned into a birthing chamber.
“Doctor Hopkins,” said Joel, “if you’d go to the jailhouse—”