“That ain’t gonna work,” the man said, his voice—and his twinkling eyes—full of humor, “although I’ve seen my wife use a book as a hammer. Didn’t work for her either.”
“Well, they say necessity is the mother of invention.” His face heated as he rose to his feet, boot dropping to the floor. “Can I help you?”
“You can if you’re Marshal Goodrich.”
“I am.”
The man pointed to a horse-drawn wagon in the street. Painted white with red trim, the words ‘Jennings’ Ice’ was emblazoned on the side. The horse that pulled the wagon wore a flowered hat, which was unusual…or maybe it wasn’t in Serenity, New Mexico. “I’m Paul Jennings.” His grin widened and his bushy gray eyebrows wiggled a bit. “The Ice Man. Lucy Hart let me know you were here and needed ice.”
Devlin stuck out his hand. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Jennings.” He turned toward his daughter, who hadn’t said a word. Infact, she had moved to stand away from the door, almost hiding behind the small, ornate table against the wall. He held out his hand toward her. “This is my daughter, Avery.”
She came forward, a bit reluctantly, but forward none-the-less and dropped a curtsy, as she’d been taught.
“A pleasure, Miss Avery.” The big man bent down to be eye-level with her. “I got a couple granddaughters just about your age. Maybe you’d like to come and visit once you and your father get settled. Would you like that?”
His daughter nodded and murmured out a ‘yes’, which seemed to make the old man happy, not to mention what it did for his own heart. Maybe this move, this chance to start over somewhere that didn’t hold so many memories, was the best decision he could have made—for both of them.
“I might have a hammer in my wagon, if that’ll help.”
Mr. Jennings interrupted his thoughts and drew his attention. “That would be great.”
The older man ran down the steps as agile as a man fifty years younger, searched the wagon, but apparently didn’t find what he needed before he jogged back to the porch empty-handed. “Looks like I was wrong, but you might want to head over to Sullivan’s Emporium. It’s on the other side of the town square. Can’t miss it. Takes up half the street. They should have a hammer.” He grinned. “And anything else you want. Old Lyle Sullivan always said, ‘if we don’t have it, you don’t need it’.” He touched the brim of his hat. “I’ll get your ice now.”
He stepped toward his wagon, rummaged around for a bit in the back then returned, holding a big block of ice with a pair of iron tongs. He took the path that led toward the back of the house and the kitchen without a word but with a happy little whistle, as if he enjoyed his job…or better yet, enjoyed his life.
For a moment, Devlin envied him and wondered if he’d ever feel that way again. He had once, but that had all changed in the space of a heartbeat.
“I’ll come by next Tuesday, see if you need another block of ice.”
He jumped, not realizing the man had returned, startling him from his thoughts.
“My sons and I deliver in town on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays depending on your schedule, but if you need it sooner, just let me know.” He jerked his thumb toward the east. “I’m just outside of town on the main road. Can’t miss me.” He smiled. “Or the icehouse. Stop by any time. My wife, Bettina, would love to meet you.” He glanced at Avery. “Bring the little one. We always got the grandkids running around.”
“Thank you, Mr. Jennings.”
“Paul, please.”
Devlin nodded. “It was a pleasure to meet you.”
“The pleasure was all mine, Marshal. Welcome to Serenity.”
He watched the man climb into his wagon, grab the reins, and shake them. The horse, wearing its silly little flowered hat, responded immediately and pulled the wagon down the street.
“Now what, Avery? What should we do? Maybe walk around town?” He bent down and removed the threshold, which came off easily in his hand. “Go over to Sullivan’s Emporium and get that hammer and some nails, like Mr. Jennings suggested, and then maybe meet my deputies?”
She nodded enthusiastically to that though he wished she would say the words. In Albuquerque, she had always loved going to the office with him and loved the deputies who reported to him, though that had never made Frances Emerson Comstock, his mother-in-law, happy. She hadn’t thought it seemly that her granddaughter, scion of Albuquerque’s elite, should be with those less than her. God knows, she hadn’tthought he was good enough for Hannah and let him know that whenever possible.
He pushed all thoughts of his former mother-in-law from his head, placed the piece of wood on the little table beside the door, then pulled on his boot.
“You ready?”
She nodded and placed her hand in his. He closed the door behind them though he didn’t lock it. Didn’t seem like he had to—and headed across the street, following the same path Tresia Morgan had just a short time ago.
Two streets over, they entered the town square with its random paths and little benches where one could sit and relax among the flowers growing there. It was a peaceful place, filled with young couples and their children, relaxing on a perfect afternoon. The fountain in the middle of the square gurgled water into the air, a haven for the birds that swooped by to take a drink. Apple and pear trees, their fragrant blossoms scenting the air, provided shade and would, when the time was right, fruit.
People waved as he and Avery passed them. He nodded in return but didn’t stop to speak as they left the town square and stepped into the dirt road. There were people here, too, going about their daily business, carrying baskets filled with the things needed to run their homes efficiently—from fresh fruit and vegetables to paper-wrapped packages, chatting as they walked along the raised wooden sidewalk.
He looked up…and chuckled.
