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H e liked this part of his job—walking the streets of Serenity, exchanging greetings with the people of the town, making sure everything was as it should be, except now it seemed to be a little different.

The decision to come here remained a good one though.

He’d met and fell in love with Tresia Morgan here.

They would be married as soon as the Justice of the Peace came to Serenity, which was just a week from now.

Finding Tresia, loving her, was more than he could have hoped for.

After losing Hannah, he hadn’t thought himself capable of loving anyone ever again. She made him realize that he could.

Avery was doing well, too, a regular little chatterbox once again. She was happy—he saw it every day in her smile and loved listening to her laugh. She loved Tresia almost as much as he did.

They would be a family, and the world seemed a little brighter, a little better.

The reporters were still here, swarming into town from all over, some as far away as San Francisco, like locusts, all of them looking to talk to him about Ned Delany and the circumstances of his death, looking to write the story that would make them—and him—famous.

A week after the outlaw had been buried in the cemetery at the edge of town, the reporters were still coming. Mrs. Gonzalez at the hotel told him just yesterday that all her rooms were filled. Elsie at the Wagon Wheel said she was busier than ever. He heard the same from several other shopkeepers.

Killing Ned Delany, it seemed, had been good for business, though it wasn’t for his frame of mind.

Devlin didn’t want any part of it. He had more to lose than Merrill or anyone else. He wondered how long it would be before Frances saw his name and showed up on his doorstep.

“Marshal Goodrich?”

He turned toward a man sitting on a bench along one of the pathways in the town square. Another person he didn’t recognize. There were so many of them. “Yes?”

“May I have a moment of your time?”

He eyed the man, suspicion making him stiffen. “Who are you?”

“Sebastian Jones with The Albuquerque Journal.”

It was just as he feared. Another reporter, but at least this one seemed to know the boundaries.

He was polite. Respectful. He hadn’t camped out in front of his house, waiting for a moment with him, like the two he’d run off this morning.

He was grateful, though, that none dared to approach Tresia or Avery again.

“I have nothing to say, Mr. Jones. Please just leave me alone.”

The man smiled, white teeth gleaming. “I can’t do that, Marshal. Like you, I have a job to do, and my job, at this moment, is to get an interview with you.”

Mr. Jones was persistent; he’d give him that. And he remained respectful. “I’m afraid you’ve wasted your time. I have nothing to say to you.” He started walking away, but the newspaperman wouldn’t give up.

He rose from the bench and followed, almost on his heels, making the hair on the back of Devlin’s neck stand straight up. So this is what outlaws feel when I’m pursuing them. Hunted. No peace. No rest. If it weren’t so sad, he’d laugh, though he wasn’t in a laughing mood.

“Just one quote, Marshal.”

Devlin stopped in the middle of the street in front of the Marshal’s Office, pulled in his breath and let it out slowly. “All right. You may have one quote.”

Mr. Jones pulled a notebook and pencil from his pocket, then flipped the book open to a blank page.

“Are you ready to take this down?” he asked and the reporter nodded eagerly. Devlin smiled. “Here’s your quote: No comment.”

He walked away then stepped up on the raised sidewalk and let himself into the Marshal’s Office. He closed the door—firmly—behind him. If there had been a lock on the door, he would have used it, but the Marshal’s Office was never closed.

He glanced out the window, his gaze on the reporter who was now on the raised sidewalk outside the office, pacing back and forth. It wouldn’t be long, he was certain, before Mr. Jones tried the doorknob and let himself in.

“You all right, Boss?” Merrill asked, startling him.

Devlin turned slowly and forced himself to move away from the window. “No, I’m not all right. I’m pissed. I can’t even walk across the town square without someone accosting me.”

“Killing Ned Delany is big news. They all want a story about it.”

“At what cost, Merrill?” He slowly unclenched his hands and forced himself to calm down, though it was harder than he thought.

“Vann Wagner scared the shit out of my little girl, not to mention Tresia. Neither one of them can leave the house now without being followed, though I will admit no one has approached them since Teddy, Esteban, and I put the fear of God into Wagner, but still, Avery is only five years old, for cryin’ out loud! She doesn’t understand.”

“Why don’t you sneak out the back door and go home.

” Merrill suggested. “They haven’t figured out there’s another entrance to this place, although they did realize that Nate lives upstairs.

Heard someone banging on his door early this morning.

Nate wasn’t too happy. I can handle the reporters.

” He paused, then added, “I hope you don’t mind, but I’ve talked to a few of them. ”

“You’re not telling me anything I don’t already know.

I read the interview you gave to Wagner for the Serenity Times.

It was a good interview. Wagner asked some particularly good questions, and he didn’t embellish the answers—or straight out lie.

You can talk to anyone you want to, Merrill.

Just keep my name out of it as much as you possibly can. ”

His grin was back. “I’ll do my best.”

Devlin let it go. No matter how careful Merrill would be, his name would be mentioned and there was nothing he could do about it.

He settled his hat on the desk and pulled his chair away, then sat down.

There was paperwork on his desk, reports needing to be finalized and filed away, but none of it seemed to matter, and frankly, he just didn’t feel like doing it today.

After a moment, aware that Merrill was looking at him, he glanced at the man. “What?”

“I heard you asked Tresia to marry you.”

“I did. How’d you hear about it?”

“Small town, Dev. Everyone knows.” He moved away from his desk and came to stand beside him. “My congratulations. She’s a wonderful woman.”

“Thank you. I agree. She is. Avery adores her.”

“Can’t see how she couldn’t.” He moved away and took a seat at his own desk, then leaned back in his chair.

Devlin didn’t take his gaze from the man. Of all the people he knew now, out of all his acquaintances and friends, it was Merrill he was closest to. There wasn’t a man he trusted more to have at his back. “Speaking of getting married, would you stand up for me? I’ll need a witness.”

Merrill’s smile was sincere. “I’d be honored. When?”

“The Justice of the Peace will be here next Friday. I’ve already wired him. We’ll meet at the courthouse at two in the afternoon.”

The man nodded. “As I said, I’d be honored.” He went back to the papers on his desk, but his smile remained in place. After a moment, a merry tune whistled from between his lips.

Devlin smiled as he picked up a piece of paper and read the report Rafael had submitted regarding the theft of several pairs of shoes from Mrs. Loving’s front porch.

The perpetrator, a black and white spaniel with the name of Lucky, had been caught, and released to its owner and all the stolen shoes had been returned.

On any other day, the crime would have made him laugh, but not today. The threat of Frances coming to town hung over him like a heavy mantle. It was only a matter of time before she showed up at his door. He would have to deal with her at some point, but he wasn’t looking forward to it.

“My earlier offer still stands, Dev.” Merrill interrupted his thoughts, making him jump.

“Why don’t you slip out the back door and head on home.

Spend the day with Tresia and Avery. Do something fun.

Maybe rent a carriage from the livery and go on a picnic.

There’s a nice spot not far from MacLean’s ranch that Polly and I found.

It’s quiet and peaceful and there’s a stream-fed lake you can swim in. Rafael and I can handle things here.”

“You know what?” He rose from his seat, then picked up his hat, and jammed it on his head. “I think I will. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Sure thing, Boss.”

He let himself out of the Marshal’s Office through the back door as Merrill suggested.

No reporters roamed about and he moved swiftly to the livery the next street over.

He conducted his business with Mr. Yancy quickly then climbed into the open carriage, shook the reins to get the horse moving and drove home.

He entered the house quietly, the aroma of fresh baked bread filling his senses and strode to the kitchen. Tresia stood at the sink, rinsing something then placed a bowl on a towel on the counter, though her gaze never left what was outside the window. He watched her for the longest time.

“Oh, Devlin!” she exclaimed when she finally turned around and saw him, her eyes wide, her smile even wider. “I didn’t expect you to be home so soon. Is everything all right?”

“Yes, everything is fine,” he lied. “Where’s Avery?”

“She’s out back on the swing.” She spread out a dish towel over the back of a chair, her gaze on him.

“How would you like to go on a picnic? Merrill was telling me about a place not far from Stone Creek Ranch that has a lake.”

She took a few steps closer to him then reached out her hand and smoothed it along his cheek. “I would love that. Avery would, too.”

“I rented a carriage from the livery. Mr. Yancy says hello, by the way.”

“Oh, he’s a sweet man. Just give me a few minutes to fill a picnic basket. I’ll make some sandwiches out of that leftover ham from last night.” She set to work quickly.