Entering the Sheriff’s office by the back door, which was just across the street from his house, he noticed the coffeepot on the stove and the delicious aroma of coffee scenting the air. He heard several voices, his deputies, raised in camaraderie as well. He slowed his pace as he moved through the kitchen and listened for a moment. He smiled. It was clear to him these men shared a closeness, which was to their benefit. It meant that they looked out for each other. Not only did they have each other’s backs, it sounded as if they liked each other as well. There was a lot of teasing, especially toward Merrill and his growing affection for Polly.
It had been that way at his last post in Albuquerque. He couldn’t ask for more.
He stepped out of the kitchen and into the main room and stopped, quickly noticing that only five men were there, instead of the six he had expected. “Good morning, gentlemen.”
The teasing died away in an instant as they all turned to look at him, every one of them instantly alert. Five pairs of eyes sized him up. A tall, blond-haired man laid his hand on his pistol but didn’t draw, though Devlin had no doubts he would be quick when he did. Another man, slightly shorter but stocky with hair as orange as a carrot, moved slightly to his left, his eyes narrowing, his body stiff, seemingly ready to defend himself as well as his comrades. He didn’t reach for his gun, but his stance clearly said he could…and he wouldn’t miss when he did.
Devlin wasn’t offended; it was exactly what he wanted to see, which is why he’d come into the building from the kitchen door. Though they’d been in the midst of ribbing Merrill, none of them had forgotten where they were and the danger they lived with on a daily basis.
All in all, he liked what he saw. Confidence radiated from the five deputies, which was so important. Not only that, but trust and loyalty, to each other as well as to the job.
“Good morning,el jefe,” Rafael greeted him, a big smile on his face as he waved toward him. “Gentlemen, meet our new marshal, Devlin Goodrich.”
“Thank you all for coming in. I appreciate it.” Devlin sauntered into the room and took a seat at one of the desks, then nodded toward Merrill. “Are we one short?”
“Tomas will be in shortly, I’m sure.”
He studied the man, noticing the humorous gleam in his eyes. “Is it normal for him to be late?”
“No, but he probably stopped to help someone.” Merrill grinned suddenly. “Maybe he had difficulty tearing himself away from his wife.”
The other men laughed.
Devlin hid his smile and directed his attention to the men who were there. “Pull up a seat. We’ll talk.”
Quickly, they did as he asked, pulling chairs from the other desks, the sound of furniture scraping the wooden floor filling the room. It didn’t take long for them to make themselves comfortable, nor for Merrill to bring him a cup of coffee before taking up a position against the wall, arms folded across his chest.
Devlin turned to the blond-haired man who’d dropped his hand to the butt of his pistol when he walked into the room. He appeared to be quite young, maybe twenty, if not younger. He’d have to keep a careful watch on this one. He didn’t need some young hothead shooting at everything that moved. “What’s your name, son?”
“Sherm Quincy.”
“Tell me about yourself.”
The man straightened in his seat. “Not much to tell.”
“I noticed you were quick to reach for your gun. How long have you been a deputy?”
A blush spread over his features, encompassing his entire face in a reddish pink hue, reaching all the way up to the tips of his ears. Perspiration made his forehead shine. “About six months.”
“You ever shoot anyone?”
“No.” And then he added, “But I’m a crack shot. I can hit the spade out of a playing card at fifty paces.”
“Shooting at cards is a whole lot different than shooting at people.”
“I know that.” A little bit of belligerence snuck into his tone, which Devlin ignored—for now.
“And you?” He nodded toward the red-haired man.
“Caleb Johnson, sir.”
Devlin smiled. “You don’t have to call me ‘sir’. Devlin will do.” His smile grew as he studied the man. “Did you serve?”
Caleb straightened and looked him straight in the eye. “I did, sir. Spent eight years in the Army before coming home to Serenity. How did you know?”
“Just by the way you stood, by the way your body stiffened when I walked into the room, like you were prepared to protect your companions.” He laughed. “Or salute me. What rank did you earn?”
“Captain, sir.”
