For the Record (Ozark Mountain Romance #3)

“Where is he?” Joel angled his horse across the opening of the cave.

Fowler stepped out into the moonlight with a gasoline tin in hand. “He’s back, sure enough.” Fowler’s sweat-soaked hair stuck to his head like a wet rug thrown over a stump. “He must’ve heard we were coming and took out, but he left his gear behind.”

Joel walked his horse closer. “All I see is a bunch of Bald Knobber members in possession of incendiary devices not far from Hopkins’s homestead. Seems suspicious the way you’re so eager to name a culprit.”

Fowler spat and threw the tin down the hill. “I gave you my word. That should be enough.” The tin clanged and rattled until it came to rest against some tree. “Bullard’s a guilty man, else why’d he run away instead of facing his accusers?”

The sentiment burned more than Joel liked to admit.

“You don’t think he might have reason to be afraid, with this group hunting for him?” Joel asked.

“There ain’t nothing wrong with straightening a man out when he needs it.”

“But the law tells us when he needs it and just how much straightening is just.”

“You and your ever-loving law. Someday you’re going to realize that no matter what’s written in some books at the courthouse, there comes a day when a fellow has to take care of himself. He can’t rely on some government man to fight his battles for him.”

While Joel had more sympathy for that position than he had before he came to Missouri, he still knew there was a better way. “But sometimes it backfires and an innocent man’s house is burnt to the ground because he wasn’t prepared for the consequences.”

Fowler’s brow drew lower. “We were prepared, but you assured us that you would take care of him. If you hadn’t gotten involved—”

Joel lifted his hand to interrupt. “And maybe I would’ve caught the outlaw if you hadn’t tied me up.”

“We didn’t hurt you.” But Fowler’s voice had lost some of its swagger.

Pressing his advantage, Joel continued, “But you interfered with the duties of an officer. That crime carries jail time, and if I thought you’d do it again, I’d have to bring you in.”

Long seconds passed. Joel could almost feel the heat burning off Fowler into the cold air. Finally, his shoulders relaxed.

“I ain’t your enemy, Deputy,” Fowler said. “The only reason I did that was because I was afeared that you’d help him escape.” To Joel’s protest, he continued. “I know you wouldn’t have meant to, but just the same, you would’ve been in the way. Surely you can agree that I’m not on the side of lawbreakers.”

“But you are breaking the law.”

“Breaking the law to enforce the law? Then maybe the law needs to change.” Fowler looked up at the moon. “It’s getting late. I’m to home and to bed. Have yourself a good night.”

Joel moved aside and watched as Fowler and the other Bald Knobbers headed down the mountain. Why did Fowler have to be so reasonable? Why did he have to sound so noble? It almost made Joel feel petty with his nit-picking regulations. Don’t catch bad guys because you don’t have a certain piece of metal that authorizes you?

And what did that piece of metal mean? In Joel’s case, it meant that he came from a good family and his parents had friends who could recommend him for the job. That was what it meant. It also meant that the word of a young lady could unauthorize you and all the good words from your parents’ friends suddenly amounted to nothing. Had Sheriff Green not glossed over the situation in his recommendation and the governor of Missouri not been desperate for impartial lawmen, Joel would have the same rank as Fowler, which was nothing. What would he do in Fowler’s shoes?

Praying that no one would return to the mountaintop before him, Joel continued upward, yawning freely along the way. The air nipped at his cheeks. Good thing Betsy had that coat on or she’d be chilly. The thought of taking her into his arms chased the frost from his limbs. Maybe they could warm up together, but she wouldn’t be favorable to that idea. He’d treated her wrong, and if she was half the woman he suspected her to be, he’d pay dearly for it.

When he arrived, he hugged the perimeter of the clearing, still wary of troublemakers looking to correct his freedom, but there was no one to be seen. No one except an adorable woman shivering and fuming.

“You could have at least put my hood back on so as to keep my head warm.” Her brows formed a line so straight he could’ve balanced a marble on them without it rolling off.

“I did it for your own good.”

“Not only did you curtail my freedom, but now you’re insinuating that I’m so simpleminded that doing so was the only recourse to keep me from injuring myself. You attack my person and my intelligence?”

“Where’d you learn to talk like that?” he asked as he dismounted. “Do you always throw out ten-cent words when you’re riled?”

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