Whitfield exhaled through his nose. "Fine. Ambulance is already overloaded countywide. They can take the three worst. Everybody else waits here until we know roads are passable."
Hawk nodded. "Understood."
The sheriff seemed almost disappointed by the lack of conflict.
Jake was lifted onto a stretcher despite protesting that he could walk. Emily held his wrist while the paramedic checked his wound.
"You are going to be here when I come back, right?" Jake asked.
Emily looked around at the remains of her home. "Where exactly would I go?"
"Promise."
Something in his expression told her he needed the answer.
"I promise."
His grip loosened.
After the ambulance departed with Jake, Marcus, and Deacon, twenty-four riders remained.
Emily expected them to mount their bikes as soon as the county cleared the road. Instead Hawk clapped his hands once and said, "We are not leaving her like this."
The men and women around him immediately started sorting themselves into work groups.
Emily stared. "No."
Hawk glanced at her. "No what?"
"No, you are not spending the day cleaning this. Your families have no idea what happened. Your bikes are damaged. Half of you look like you need a hospital yourselves."
"We have already called home. Bikes can wait. And if anybody here needs a doctor, they can say so."
"I can manage."
"I believe you."
"Then leave."
"Those are not the same sentence."
Emily crossed her arms.
Hawk met her stare without flinching. "You saved twenty-seven lives. Let us spend one afternoon helping you find your floor."
The argument lasted another minute and ended exactly where Hawk clearly knew it would.
By noon, twenty-four bikers were clearing debris.
They separated metal from lumber, stacked salvageable tools under tarps, and marked unstable sections of wall so nobody would walk beneath them. Sadi, who turned out to be a licensed contractor from Missouri, organized the work with quiet competence. A gray-bearded rider called Preacher found Emily's toolbox almost intact beneath the crushed office wall.
"Looks like the storm respects Craftsman," he said.
"Daniel bought that box before we were married."
Preacher wiped mud from the lid with his sleeve. "Then I am glad it stayed."
The sentence almost broke her again.
Hawk noticed. He changed the subject without making the mercy obvious.
"You got somewhere to sleep tonight?"
"Shelter."
"That is not what I asked."
"The shelter is dry."
"It is a storm box, Emily, not an apartment."
"My neighbor's house lost half its roof. The motel in town is full. The Red Cross shelter is at the high school, and people with children need those beds more than I do. I am staying here."
Hawk opened his mouth to argue, reconsidered, and nodded once. "Then we make it less miserable."
By evening they had recovered enough blankets, a camp stove, bottled water, canned food, and a battery lantern to make the shelter survivable for a few nights. The riders even managed to clear a safe path from the hatch to the road.
When the last of the motorcycles finally started, Emily stood beside the ruined signpost with Daniel's ratchet in one hand.
Hawk remained after the others pulled away.
He reached into an inside pocket and handed her a folded piece of paper.
"What is this?"