“I knew he’d make a fine sheriff,” Pritchard boasted.
“Once he survived that pony, I figured he was a decent fellow,” Mayor Walters added.
Josiah elbowed her. “He’ll make a good sheriff, but I ain’t too sure about a brother-in-law.”
Betsy kicked him in the knee. He groaned and bent to rub it while she continued clapping.
Joel would be their sheriff. He’d have a secure job, a full salary, and a house of his own. A house of their own. But there was something that needed fixing first, if he was willing to admit it.
The ladies of town had prepared a potluck and everyone had turned out. Even Abigail and Jeremiah rode into town in a wagon with her folks. Doctor Hopkins and Laurel came, too, although their eldest daughter hadn’t been as friendly since word of Betsy’s engagement spread. Clive Fowler carried on like the party was for him, and in a way it was. Finally he’d found someone he trusted with the role of protector of Pine Gap. He could retire. The only ones missing were Detective Cleveland and Officer Harrison, called back to Jeff City now that Joel’s character had been verified and the true story of Sheriff Taney’s attack had been told.
Betsy’s heart swelled as she surveyed the folks scattered across the lawn on the square. Everyone within sight was happy. And for today, everything in view was perfect. But there was damage not visible that had to be reckoned with. One burr that still rubbed her sore.
By the time the desserts had been consumed and the wind grew fiercer with the lowering of the sun, Joel had made the rounds once, twice, and in some cases three times. When he finally joined her next to the hanging tree, she knew her patience had paid off.
“May I escort you home?” He offered his arm.
“Of course, Sheriff Puckett.”
They made their way to Uncle Fred’s house. According to the original plan, that hellfire and brimstone preacher Silas Ruger would marry them, and they’d be man and wife before the week was over. But Betsy had been pushing for something different.
They reached the house, but instead of going to the office door, they took off down the path to the woods behind. Slowly they covered the soggy ground that cradled patches of snow on the north side of the trees and valleys until they reached a lookout spot. Betsy gained the platform, then turned to face Joel. His close-cut beard couldn’t hide the dimple in his cheek. The shadow of his hat didn’t cover the wistfulness of his eyes.
“Did you ask permission?” she asked.
The smile faded. His chest filled. “Mayor Walters said Fowler could handle things if I had to go, but I don’t have to. You’re worried about nothing.”
Betsy pressed both arms over her stomach. How she wished she could ignore the obvious—wished she could revel in the joy that had found them—but it wasn’t time yet.
“I saw you at the train station, Joel. I saw how you looked when Scott decided to come home. You aren’t free. You have unfinished business in Garber.”
He slipped his hands into his pockets. “I will go someday, but what’s the hurry? Let’s get married first—”
“No.” The most painful word she’d ever had to utter. She cleared her throat and continued. “Living in Pine Gap—living with me—can’t be your second choice. Go home to your beloved Texas. Clear your name. If you love me, if you love this town, you’ll come back. If not”—she pressed her lips tightly together before finding the courage—“well, it’s better to know now than to wait.”
He walked past her and stood at the edge of the ravine. The sun was dipping into the mountain, melting its honeyed syrup on the crest and making the edge of his hat glow.
“I wanted everything to be perfect before I went back—job as a sheriff, a lovely wife, maybe even a child or two to prove that I’m a decent family man. But it’s like . . . like every day I’m gone is a banishment.” He clasped his hands behind his back and watched the colors melt behind the bare limbs on the mountain. “I’d do it in a heartbeat if it weren’t for you.” He turned to her, his eyes full of worry. “I love you, Betsy. I don’t want to risk our future. Whatever I have to gain in Texas isn’t worth losing you.”
“Who said you would?” Her fingers dug into her ribcage. “I’ve waited twenty-four years for my man. Don’t you imagine I can wait a few more months?”
But maybe his concern wasn’t that she’d change her mind. Maybe he was afraid he would.
Her side ached. She eased her fingers. “You gave me a stern lecture not too long ago about how I had to trust you where your profession was concerned. I learned to do that. I respected your role as a leader and as the deputy. This . . . this is where you have to trust me. This is where you can honor my wishes and acknowledge that my insight, even though inconvenient, has value.”