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He left the house with a touch of uncertainty, not happy about leaving Tresia and Avery alone.

He stopped on the front porch as had become his habit and noticed there seemed to be more people walking up and down the streets.

More carriages, too. He recognized some but not all.

His lips pressed together in annoyance. It had begun and it hadn’t even been twenty-four hours since he’d killed Ned Delany.

He concentrated on keeping his temper under control, then headed over to his office, ready though not quite willing to take on whatever the day brought.

Two minutes after entering the Marshal’s Office through the back door, he wished he’d stayed in bed …preferably with Tresia. A chorus of raised voices met his ears. Citizens of the town peppered Merrill and Rafael with questions. It was going to be a long day.

“Are you ready?” Tresia slipped her drawstring purse over her wrist then added the shopping basket to her arm as well.

Avery nodded as she tied the laces of one of her shoes in a perfect bow, an accomplishment she’d just learned. She was pretty proud of herself and Tresia praised her. “Good job, sweetheart.”

Avery beamed, picked up Cecily then clasped Tresia’s hand as they left the house and walked over to the town hall.

As soon as they stepped inside and she saw all the people gathered around Mayor Tisdale, demanding answers about what happened to Josie, the Serranos, and Ned Delany, and she realized Devlin had been correct when he said people would want to know everything.

The mayor caught her eye then motioned for her to join him.

She shook her head, held Avery’s hand a little tighter, and rushed up to the second floor, where the rooms for the lending library would be.

She pulled a small notebook, the one containing the drawings from her last visit to the rooms, from her drawstring purse, and started sketching. “I think we can fit four rows of shelves in here,” she murmured as she drew.

“I think so as well.”

The voice was not one she’d expected to hear and she jumped, as skittish as a newborn foal, then turned quickly to see the mayor now standing in the doorway, one hand on the door jamb, the other on his chest, like he suffered from indigestion after eating a heavy meal. “Oh, Mayor Tisdale! You startled me.”

“I’m sorry for that, Mrs. Morgan. I didn’t mean to.” He shrugged as if scaring her didn’t matter and remained in the doorway. “I’ve been getting questions all morning,” he said without even a greeting. “What do you know?”

“About what?”

“Come now, Mrs. Morgan.” He gestured to Avery. “You take care of the marshal’s daughter. Surely, he must have talked to you about what happened yesterday. Taken you into his confidence, as it were.”

Tresia tucked her notebook away. “You’ll have to ask the marshal any questions you might have.” She held out her hand to Avery. “Come on, sweetheart. We need to go.”

Avery slipped her hand in hers as they moved toward the doorway, but the mayor didn’t move. His big body blocked the way. “You must know something.”

“I don’t, Mayor. Devlin and I do not discuss his job.” She moved a bit closer to him, standing up to him. He’d never been a bully, had always been friendly toward her, but then again, he’d never had such mayhem in his town before.

He smirked, a light coming into his eyes, as if he suspected she did more than just care for the marshal’s daughter. “Devlin, is it?”

Her face heated. “Yes. Devlin. That is his name. Now, if you’ll excuse us, please.”

He stared at her for the longest time, then finally moved his big belly out of her way. She and Avery practically ran out of the town hall.

It was the same at Polly’s bakery and Goldwater’s, where everyone she met, the shop owners as well as their customers, asked her questions, too, wanting to know something, everything, forcing her to change her plans.

Considering what she’d already been subjected to by people she knew and liked, she wouldn’t visit Alfonso and Damita but simply go home after picking up the roast.

But there was no escaping the rumors and gossip.

It spread through the town like wildfire, unrestrained, blazing uncontrolled, as stories about what happened at Josie’s and Crooked River were repeated, usually incorrectly.

Everyone knew of Josie’s passing. Some rejoiced, thinking she’d repaid her perceived sins with her life and that her house would close while others were saddened by that thought.

There was plenty to be said about Devlin and Merrill killing Ned Delany, too, most of that untrue as well.

Simply walking through the town square on the way to the butcher shop, people stopped her, even those she didn’t know well, wanting to know what happened.

They assumed, like the mayor, that Marshal Goodrich took her into his confidence, considering she was taking care of his daughter, as if one thing had anything to do with the other.

Of course, there were innuendos as well, putting the marshal and her together, as if they knew or suspected she hadn’t left the marshal’s bed all night, which was most likely just her own conscience talking.

With the hours she kept, no one could know she didn’t sleep in her boarding house bed.

She ignored everything as best she could, repeating over and over again that they should ask the marshal for details of what happened. No one seemed happy with that answer and continued to press her for details she refused to divulge.

“Heard the marshal killed Ned Delany,” Mr. Crandall said as he wrapped the roast she’d just purchased in butcher paper and handed it over the glass counter to her, though he didn’t let go. “Heard about Josie, too. And the Serranos. Do you know what happened?”

“No, I don’t.” Frustrated, losing her patience, not to mention becoming angry, she reached for the package, but Mr. Crandall didn’t let go, as if he were holding the roast hostage so he could get some answers from her.

“You’ll have to ask at the Marshal’s Office,” she repeated for the twentieth time at least. “My roast, please.”

He finally let go. She dropped it into the shopping basket. “Come on, Avery. Let’s go home.”

They left the butcher shop, but didn’t get very far before she heard her name shouted from behind her.

“Mrs. Morgan!”

Tresia stopped in the middle of the raised sidewalk, making others try to avoid her and Avery, whose hand she held. She turned quickly to see Mr. Wagner, the owner and publisher of the Serenity Times, running toward her. A groan escaped her. He was the last person she wanted to see.

A bit breathless, his face red and perspiring, he caught up with her. “Thank…you…for stopping,” he puffed, then quickly whipped out a small notebook from his pocket. “What can you tell me about Marshal Goodrich’s shootout with Ned Delany?”

A little taken aback by the abrupt question, it took her a moment to gather her wits and tamp down her frustration, which was growing by the second. “I think you should ask the marshal about that.”

The man grinned. “I did. He wouldn’t talk to me. He kept saying he had no comment.”

She smiled at that. Yes, that did seem like something Devlin would say. “If he won’t talk to you, what makes you think I will? What makes you think I know anything at all?”

He glanced down at Avery and smirked. “Everyone knows you’re taking care of his daughter.

” His gaze rose to hers. “Everyone knows you’re…

close.” There was an unspoken message in his eyes, as if he were intimating that she wasn’t just taking care of Avery, but that she was taking care of the marshal, too, and not in the way that was respectable.

Blood rushed to her face and her entire body flushed. “Mr. Wagner?—”

“Just give me one statement, Mrs. Morgan,” he insisted. “This is big news. Ned Delany, wanted for murder and so much more, dead, killed by our very own Marshal Goodrich. He’ll be even more famous than he is now!”

She took umbrage at his statement. It was obvious he didn’t know Devlin at all.

Devlin didn’t want to be famous. He’d never wanted that.

Fame and fortune could go to someone else.

He just wanted to do his job and be good at it, having a respectable reputation was all he needed.

She knew that and admired him for it. “I have nothing to say, Mr. Wagner.”

There was something else as well, something that occurred to her as Mr. Wagner stared at her, waiting for her to make a statement, which she wouldn’t.

It had been different when her friends and casual acquaintances had asked about what happened, but Mr. Wagner was a newspaper man, a reporter.

Devlin had specifically warned her about him.

A story in a small-town newspaper might not mean much, but when other newspapers picked it up, which they sometimes did, who knows how far and wide the story could go?

“I have nothing to say except that you should talk to Marshal Goodrich.” Her hand tightened around Avery’s and she made to move away from the man, but he was persistent.

He stepped in front of her again. She didn’t know Vann Wagner well.

They didn’t travel in the same social circles though he had come into the store several times to purchase items for his house or his office.

She had always considered him a nice man, but that was changing—fast. “Mr. Wagner, if you’ll please just step aside, I’d like to take Miss Avery home. ”

“Just one statement, Mrs. Morgan.”

“Please leave us alone, Mr. Wagner.”

And yet, he wouldn’t. He did step aside, but as soon as she started walking, he followed, shouting questions, making a nuisance of himself as well as frightening Avery. She picked Avery up then tried to maneuver around the people on the sidewalk, some of whom were stopping and staring.

Her heart pounded a little harder as she quickened her pace, nearly running with Avery in her arms, the groceries in her basket almost toppling to the ground.

Perspiration made her chest clammy beneath her chemise and sweat trickled between her breasts.

Breathing became a little more difficult between running and the sudden onset of panic. And she was panicking.

“Why is that man following us?” Avery hugged her more tightly, her voice echoing her fear. “Is he a bad man?”

“No, sweetheart, he’s not a bad man,” Tresia said, trying desperately to keep the panic and fear from her own voice.

She didn’t want to upset Avery any more than she already was.

She glanced at her as she quickened her pace a little more.

Avery’s eyes were huge in her face and watery, like she could cry at any moment.

She just hoped that this incident didn’t revert her back to the quiet child she’d been.

She rather liked the chatterbox. “He’s just persistent. ”

“Tresia!”

She heard her name called again and glanced around, fear making her mouth dry.

There, walking out of the Wagon Wheel, was Lucy, accompanied by her brothers, Teddy and Esteban.

Just the sight of them made her knees weak and the knot in her stomach started to unravel, just a bit. Still, she held Avery a little tighter.

She rushed toward them, finally feeling safe, though still rattled by Mr. Wagner’s behavior. “Lucy!” She huffed, trying to draw air into her lungs. “Thank God!”

Lucy took one look at her and frowned even as she extended a hand to help steady her. “What’s wrong? You’re shaking like a leaf.”

Her throat constricted as she tried to tamp down fear-born tears. When she could finally speak, she said, “He wouldn’t leave me alone.”

“Who?” Teddy and Esteban asked at the same time, both, it seemed, ready to defend her.

“Vann Wagner. He wants me to give a statement about Devlin and what happened with Ned Delany.” She gulped in air as her panic decreased just being with friends she trusted. “He actually chased us down when I refused to answer any of his questions.”

“Not to worry, Tresia.” Teddy pressed her arm, glanced at his brother then further down the sidewalk, where the person in question suddenly stopped and turned around quickly, possibly realizing that Tresia wasn’t alone and vulnerable anymore.

“We’ll take care of it,” he said then looked at his sister. “Lucy, why don’t you take her home?”

“I think that’s a fine idea.” She took Avery from her arms and held the girl close to her heart. “Come on. I’ll make you a nice cup of coffee.”

“Thank you.”

“And I’ll stay with you until Devlin comes home.”

Gratitude made the tears she tried so hard to keep at bay flood her eyes, especially now that her panic was dissipating and her heartbeat was returning to normal.

Her knees weren’t as weak anymore, either, but she didn’t trust herself to walk any distance alone.

“I love you, Lucy Hart. You’re a good friend. ”

Lucy smiled. “The best friend.” She hooked her hand into the crook of Tresia’s arm and walked her home, leaving Teddy and Esteban to take care of Mr. Wagner.