Sissy hugged Eloise tight and fixed Betsy with that look that her own ma had used for years. Finally, with a sigh, she stepped out of the way. “You do what you think is right.”
Betsy would. At least today. Although she had a hundred reasons for writing the Dashing Deputy stories, she’d never done it because it was the right thing to do. For profit, ambition, excitement—but when she put pen on paper, she was only thinking about pleasing the newspaper men. Now her actions had nothing to do with ambition. She didn’t care who got the glory, she just wanted justice for Sheriff Taney, and Fowler, and now . . . even Joel. No matter what had happened in Texas, Joel was their best chance for peace. If he needed help, she would do what she could.
She’d promised him that she wouldn’t get involved, and that was the only thing that kept her from skirting town and following the government men. Instead, she’d be up-front and ask Joel flat out if there was anything she could do to help. If he said no, then she reckoned she’d be back in the kitchen watching Sissy’s babies for the rest of the night.
Not even taking time to grab the nearest coat, Betsy hurried out the door. But she wasn’t going to the jailhouse, because Joel was on the road, walking toward her.
He was probably just passing by. Trying to start his work before she could interfere. The sun’s rays came down from the south, shining beneath the brim of his hat. His mouth was set and his thoughts were miles away. Seeing him after she’d disappointed him made her shy. Obviously he wasn’t looking for her. Maybe she’d ease back inside and save herself the embarrassment—
“Betsy.”
She rocked in place. The wind pierced through her blouse and made her shiver. Had he been coming to her? Finally daring a look, she found him watching her, eyes wary and shoulders squared.
“I don’t want to upset you,” he said, “but there’s something you need to know.”
Betsy clasped her hands over her heart. Was she ready to hear his tale right here? In the middle of the street? “I’ve heard, but I’m waiting for your side of the story. I promise I won’t be angry as long as you tell me the truth.”
Joel looked up and down the road. His forehead wrinkled beneath his hat. He stepped closer and asked with a lowered voice, “Why would I lie to you? I just wanted you and Sissy to know before we come back with Scott in custody.”
“What?” Another shot of cold air blasted through Betsy, making her lungs feel like chunks of ice. Had he lost his mind? “What does Scott have to do with the woman in Texas and you losing your job?”
“Who told you that?”
Layer after layer of confusion. “Detective Cleveland had a lot of questions about you. Questions about you taking, you know . . . liberties?”
Joel’s face disappeared for a moment while he studied the ground.
Betsy’s unease grew. “What’s this about Scott?”
He lifted his eyes, and the pain she saw scared her. “Fred and your pa brought Scott in this morning. Scott says he shot a man. It sounds like self-defense, but those detectives are bringing him in for more questioning.”
Betsy shook her head. “Scott wouldn’t shoot someone.”
“It was the same night Taney was shot. Hopefully it was Taney’s attacker that he got, but the officers have other ideas.”
The officers? It was too much to take in. Betsy cast a nervous look at the cabin. “Sissy doesn’t know.”
“And maybe she shouldn’t. Not yet. But I wanted you to know.” There it was again—that wounded expression that meant he had cared so much about her but didn’t anymore.
“What can I do?” Betsy asked. “You know I’ll go crazy sitting at home and worrying about him.”
“That’s why I’m telling you,” said Joel. “I don’t expect you to sit at home. The government men have my hands tied, but I’d like another set of eyes out there. Someone I can trust to tell me the truth without prejudice.”
The word trust stung like a wasp. “I’ll do it right. You are the only one I’ll report to.”
He looked at her long and hard. “If they told you that I was fired for compromising a lady, why are you talking to me?”
She pushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “I’ve made a mistake recently, and I’m learning how hard it is to make amends. If there’s anything I’d like to see more of around here, it’s mercy.”
“Aren’t you afraid it’s true?”
She would be honest with him, no matter the consequences. “I’m terrified. If it is, then I’ve lost . . .” She searched for the words. “After writing those articles, I have no claim to your friendship, but I have the idea of you—brave, honorable, just. That’s what I want to hold on to, even if I lose everything else.”
They stood there with the cold winter wind driving between them. Both of them hurt, both looking to the other for comfort but knowing that they had miles to cover before any could be found.