Page 30

He chuckled as he slid into the empty chair then poured himself a cup of her excellent coffee. He took a sip and leaned back, much the same as she did, his focus first on her then on the stars just beginning to twinkle in the deepening twilight. “This is nice.”

“Did Avery give you any trouble going to sleep?”

He laughed. “I think she was asleep before I finished reading one page of the new book. What did you do today to make her so tired?”

“Oh, just the usual.”

“The usual?”

Tresia laughed. “We cleaned. We worked on our reading and writing—Miss Palmer will be so pleased when she starts school next year. We went for a long walk, then I took her out to the Jennings’ house.

Mr. Jennings invited us when he delivered ice this morning.

Actually, he extended the invitation from his daughter, Veronica.

She’s visiting from El Paso. I haven’t seen her since she moved there a few years ago so Avery got to play with Veronica’s children as well as Mr. Jennings’ other grandchildren.

It was a good day for her. A busy day.” She grew quiet then, as if she ran out of words, but the silence wasn’t uncomfortable. Not at all.

It didn’t last long though as she turned to him and smiled, which devastated his sense of well-being.

She had a beautiful smile, one that lit up her entire face.

And invited confidence, too. “I’ve been working for you for a little bit now, and I realize, I know hardly anything about you. Tell me about yourself.”

He took another sip of coffee then placed the cup on the table and folded his hands in his lap, a little uncomfortable talking about himself.

“I grew up in Albuquerque. Went to school just like everyone else. Had a lot of friends, many of whom I still keep in touch with.” He laughed.

“Believe it or not, I’m a great letter writer. ”

Her brows rose in surprise. “You are?”

“I am. My mother, Primrose—yes, that was her name—was insistent on writing letters and ‘Thank you’ notes and such. She was a stickler for being proper, which was really hard—for both of us. I wasn’t exactly a beacon of propriety.

My mother was often exasperated with me and I can’t say I blame her.

” He laughed. “I was a bit of a hellion, as she pointed out every day of my life. Well, almost every day.”

“Yes, I can see that about you.” She laughed as well. “Do you have any brothers and sisters?”

“I do. I have a younger sister. Xanthia. She lives in Seattle with her husband, Richard, who is, incidentally, a lawyer, which made my mother very happy though she wasn’t thrilled Xanthia moved so far away.

Richard worked for my father for a few years—that’s how he and Xanthia met.

He was given a great opportunity in Seattle that he couldn’t pass up. ”

“Are you close? You and Xanthia?”

“We are. We write frequently,” he said, then realized he had an unfinished letter to her sitting on his desk.

He’d finish it tonight. “She’s a good woman.

Smart. Friendly. Compassionate. She’s very kind, but she also knows how to stand up for herself.

” He paused after he recited Xanthia’s good points and looked at Tresia, realizing he’d listed her good qualities, too. “She’s a lot like you.”

“Thank you. I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“You should,” he said. “Her husband, Richard, is a good man, too. I don’t think my folks would have allowed them to marry, if he wasn’t.

” He took a sip of coffee, his gaze sweeping over her.

He loved that he had her complete attention, but Tresia was like that.

She didn’t listen with half an ear—she listened with both.

“I’m the proud uncle to Keara and Richie, their children.

At one point, after Hannah passed, Xanthia wanted to take Avery to live with her, but I…

I couldn’t do it. Seattle is too far away, and I needed to be able to see my daughter. ”

“I understand.” She gave a small nod and he knew that she did. “Have you always wanted to be a lawman?”

“Not always. For a while, I wanted to a cowboy. They always seemed so…free. And then an adventurer, traveling to exotic locations, like Africa, but that all changed as I got older and I realized while those pursuits were honorable, they weren’t for me.

” He laughed, remembering how his father indulged his aspirations without mocking them while his mother did not.

“My father, Charles, was a lawyer. I watched him try many cases against hardened outlaws, and he won more often than not. My father was a very smart man. That’s why I became interested in bringing in those men before they got to the courtroom, before they had a chance to hurt anyone. ”

He took a breath, the memories happy ones.

“He had a friend, Marshal Fairchild, who visited our little house quite often. I admired him and what he did. It wasn’t easy bringing in the lawless, but he was good at it.

He took me under his wing, so to speak, teaching me everything I needed to know, and eventually, brought me on as his deputy.

Before he retired, he put in a good word for me with the governor and I was appointed marshal.

” He chuckled, then looked at her. “Mama wasn’t happy about that.

She wanted me to follow in my father’s footsteps and become a lawyer like him.

She wasn’t thrilled that I put my life in danger. ”

“I don’t blame her. No mother wants to see her child purposely put themselves in peril. It goes against the mother code.” She reached out and laid gentle fingers on his arm, and he felt the warmth of her touch through the fabric of his shirt. “I’m sure she is proud of you.”

“She was. Eventually.”

“Was?”

“She’s no longer with us.” He let out a long, heartfelt sigh. Losing his folks still hurt, even after all these years. “Both she and my father passed before Avery was born.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.” She squeezed his arm then let go.

He thought she would ask how it happened, but she didn’t, and that was fine with him. He didn’t want to relive the illness that took his mother or the broken heart that took his father. He filled the sudden silence with a question of his own. “What about you?”

“Well, I like strawberries and blackberries, but not blueberries.” She laughed. “I like to read and, like you, I’m a great letter writer. I knit and crochet and needlepoint, though I don’t like that very much.”

“Be serious.”

“I am.” She laughed again and the sound went straight to his heart and stayed there.

“I’ve lived here all my life, as you know.

I had an opportunity to go to college—Vassar—but I didn’t take it.

I couldn’t leave my father. I was all he had after Mama passed.

Nor could I leave Serenity. I love this town. I have a lot of friends here.”

“Do you miss your mother?”

“I do. Some days more than others, but I was lucky, I suppose. I had—have—some great role models. Tia Evie. Bonita Gonzales over at the Serenity hotel. They were both very good friends with my mother. Both took me under their wing, so to speak, after she passed. There are others who hold a special place in my heart.”

“Do you regret not going to Vassar?”

“No, not at all. My decision to not go was for the best because if I had left, I would never have met Brett. Besides, why did I need to go to school to learn how to run a business and keep the books? My father had been teaching me since I was old enough to understand.” She sighed, though it sounded content to him.

“I bet I could teach others better than most though I will admit, some people don’t want to learn.

” She finished her coffee and glanced in his direction.

“Speaking of keeping the books, I should go. I still need to go over the last week’s receipts for Sullivan’s, though why I try, I don’t know. Both Cousin Arnold and Willetta seem to be in the category of those who don’t want to learn.”

She rose from her chair and brought her coffee cup inside. She returned in moments, the ledger in her arms, drawstring purse dangling from her wrist. “I’ll wash that cup in the morning. You can leave your cup in the sink, too.” She smiled and walked down the porch steps. “Good night, Devlin.”

“Good night, Tresia.” He rose from his seat. “And thank you.”

She stopped on the bottom step and turned to face him. “For what?”

“For the conversation. For everything you do.”

“It’s my pleasure, Devlin. Good night.”

He watched her walk toward the gate at the back of the yard, disappear behind the tall hedges of his neighbor’s yard then reappear as she climbed the steps to Mrs. McMurty’s Boarding House. She waved one last time before she let herself in.

He sat in the chair again and took another sip of his coffee, wishing she could have stayed longer. What would it be like if she didn’t have to go home?