Sissy was crying again. Betsy bent to pick up Amelia, who’d thrown herself against Sissy’s leg and bawled as if she hadn’t seen her ma in months. Uncle Fred sat at the table and settled in as if content to stay there for years.
“You’re back early.” Betsy dished out a bowl of stew. The bowl clattered on the table in front of Uncle Fred.
“They’re taking Scott to another jail.” He pushed the bowl away. “They said he can’t get a fair trial here, so he’s going to Springfield.”
Betsy lowered the spoon. Her eyes darted from Uncle Fred to Sissy. “Who took Scott?”
“Sheriff Taney. We tried talking him out of taking Scott on the trip himself. He looks awful.”
Betsy dropped the spoon. She rushed to her uncle and clutched his sleeve. “Sheriff Taney came to the jail and took Scott? Is that what you’re saying?”
Fred’s face tightened. “I thought it odd that Joel wasn’t there, or the Jeff City men, but Taney said it was urgent. He had the key to the cell and everything.”
“No, no, no.” Betsy pushed past her uncle, ran to the coat rack, and began fighting her way into her coat. This couldn’t happen. She had to get help.
“Betsy, what’s the matter?” Uncle Fred had her arm and wasn’t about to let her slip away. No time for secrecy now.
“Taney is the one who attacked Scott. He staged the whole thing. He wanted Joel to fail, so he made like the Bald Knobbers were out of control, burning Hopkins’s place and raising trouble. It was Taney wearing the mask.”
Uncle Fred shook his head, but slowly understanding settled. He jumped up and ran out the door. Sissy collapsed on the bench with Amelia patting her, but Betsy couldn’t stick around to comfort her. They had no time.
They had to catch Taney. Had to save Scott from Taney’s devious plans. Where was Joel?
“I’m going to the sale barn for a horse,” she hollered. They had to hurry.
But Uncle Fred knew which direction to run.
To Fowler.
Before Betsy could return with a horse, a clump of men seethed beneath the hanging oak. Most, if not all, had a hood in hand. Those with horses had familiar horns peeping out of the saddlebags. Fowler stood in their midst, stoking their outrage.
“He pretended to be us and burned down Hopkins’s house?” one man exclaimed.
“We knew you didn’t shoot him, boss. We knew he was lying.”
“If he lays a finger on Scott Murphy—”
“He already hurt the boy. Did you see his neck?”
The sound of beating hooves raced toward them. Joel tore over the hill on his black horse, throwing clumps of soil behind him, and in his wake, the two city gentlemen tried to keep pace on their inferior mounts.
The crowd parted with barely enough time to give Joel safe passage to the front. The horse pawed the ground, unable to tether its spirit, while Joel kept the reins close to his chest.
“Sheriff Taney is missing,” he said. “We suspect him—”
“We know already,” Pritchard cried. “He took Scott.”
Joel found her in the crowd. Betsy nodded. “He told Uncle Fred and Sissy that he had to take him to Springfield. They left fifteen minutes ago.”
Even Officer Harrison understood that was no good.
“Here’s what we’re going to do,” Fowler said. “We’re going to divide up—”
“Wait!” Joel kept the men in sight, even as his horse paced and swayed, bellowing its eagerness to run again. “We don’t need a group of masked vigilantes. We’ve had that. You’ve hidden your identity and robbed everyone in this town of knowing who to blame.” The murmurs weren’t friendly, but Joel raised his hand. “You’ve also robbed the town of knowing who to thank when they were helped. Hide your face and you miss out on the responsibility, but also on the blessing. Don’t you think it’s time the people here know their heroes?”
Detective Cleveland and Officer Harrison tried to squeeze into the group, but the men tightened around Joel as he continued.
“And look where the disguises have gotten you. They’ve shielded the guilty one and let him make accusations against honorable men. Isn’t it time to take away the mask and let us see people for who they are?”
Pritchard was the first. He tossed his new hood against the base of the hanging oak. Then Mr. Rinehart. One by one, they threw the symbol of their heroism against the tree. Finally, Fowler tossed his crooked-horned sack.
“It won’t be the same,” he said.
“It’ll be better,” Joel promised. “Because what we need isn’t a group of disguised men acting without accountability. We need a posse. We need people who say who they are, what they’re going to do, and why. Those are the men we need to find Sheriff Taney.”
“We got to catch him,” Fowler roared.
“Find Scott,” Uncle Fred hollered.
“Just like the Dashing Deputy!” Pritchard yelled, much to Betsy’s chagrin. When had he gotten hold of a paper?
“When you find them, fire two shots to let us know.” Joel’s eyes flashed. “We’ll come running to help.”
And with that, they split into as many different directions as there were men. Without a doubt, many of them would enlist more men along the way. Every hollow would have a watcher, and soon they’d find their man.
If it wasn’t too late.
Chapter 43