He took her hand, pulled her to the edge to stand next to him and watch the shadows grow. Their fingers threaded together as Betsy prayed for his decision, even though she dreaded it. Finally, as the sun dropped out of sight, he answered.
“I’m going to miss you.” His jaw clenched. “Betsy, you don’t know how I’ll miss you, but I’ll hurry back, and everything will be just the same as when I left. You wait and see.” His words were commands, daring her to suggest any alternative. “And in the meantime, you keep writing. Naturally you won’t have me to inspire you, but I’m sure Fowler will make enough drama for a few stories.”
She laid her hand on his arm. “And you keep track of your daring deeds so I’ll have abundant material when you return.”
“It’s a deal.” He squeezed her hand. “I can’t wait to see what the future has in store for your hero—the real one, that is.”
She searched his profile, wishing she knew, too. Joel would do what was right, that was certain, and hopefully doing right would lead him back to her.
By the time he left that night, Betsy was content with what they’d decided. Joel would publicly declare his innocence and challenge the lies about him, even if it meant facing more scandal. He was brave, honorable, and determined—all qualities that were taking him from her for a little while but would hopefully lead him back as soon as his duty was done.
And no matter when or if he returned, knowing Joel had changed her life. Just like the men of her town had set aside their disguises, she no longer hid her intelligence behind a juvenile mask. She’d yoke up with a woman’s mind and a woman’s heart and answer for herself. Responsible. Trustworthy. Accountable. If she had to make it on her own, she could. But that didn’t mean she wanted to.
It’d be many days before she stopped watching for his black horse. Many nights before she stopped setting the table for one extra. But before spring came, she’d start listening for the train whistle. When the crocus returned, she’d begin watching at the road for her Dashing Deputy to return and claim her.
Because a hero always came back for his lady.
Epilogue
Joel shoved a plate of food through the door of the cell and locked it.
“This isn’t hot.” Leland Moore’s words slurred. “It’s not even warm.”
“You showed up at my wedding nimptopsical, and you expect me to cook you up something fresh? You’re lucky you’ve got anything at all.”
Leland held his head with both hands. “Thought you’d be in a better mood, having just got married. No use yelling at me.”
Joel wasn’t yelling, just anxious to get home, to his new home and to Betsy. He’d sent word ahead on his way from Texas for her to be ready to wed, and she’d succeeded spectacularly. Her ma and Sissy had helped her set up the cabin he’d leased so that it was right homey. Abigail Calhoun and Laurel Hopkins had sewn her a new dress for the wedding, and Joel had never seen anything so fetching. Two days after he stepped foot off the train—two whirlwind days of meeting with her family, hauling furniture and whatnot, consulting with Fowler, and stealing away to be alone with his intended—and he was married.
And even though he’d had his hands full of work to catch up on, his heart was light. Joel was cleared in Texas. Commissioner Anderson and the rest of the Blackstone County Commissioners had held a hearing. Sheriff Green spoke on his behalf, recounting the details of that night and apologizing for not speaking up sooner. Mary and her folks carried on about her ruined reputation, but Joel was able to produce the crumpled letter she’d written him just that winter. Knowing Betsy’s proclivity to snoop, he’d gone back to pull it out of the trash bin, and once he started thinking about it, burning it felt akin to destroying evidence. So he’d tucked it inside the band of his Stetson and hoped he could forget about it.
Once the commissioners read Mary’s description of how hard she’d worked to ensure his capture and how bitter she was that her plans hadn’t succeeded, they cleared him on the spot. A letter was drafted to the State of Missouri to clear up any misinformation they might have gathered, and Joel was once again free to wear a badge in Texas.
But he doubted he ever would.
He hung the keys to the cell on the peg and grabbed his hat. Fowler would have to come by in the morning to release Leland, because Joel didn’t plan to make an appearance before breakfast.
Betsy tidied the cans in her kitchen pantry for the hundredth time. Helping Mayor Walters arrange the tall displays he couldn’t reach had let her stock her new house with plenty of necessaries.
Her new house. She looked about the one-room cabin, the table for two against the wall, the stove that could keep the whole house toasty on the coldest of days, the bed laid out smooth with quilts from her grandmother’s trunk. It was small, but it was hers. And there was nothing else she could do besides sit down and, for the first time, wait for her husband to come home.