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figure out what it might turn out to be. Sometimes he came up with an idea, and sometimes he whittled a hunk of wood down to nothing while he pondered things.
    “Hey, Jake, how ya like being a deputy?”
    “It pays the bills.” He took a swipe at the wedge in his hands. A sliver of wood fluttered on top of the pile of shavings at his feet.
    “Yeah, ain’t much going on around here right now other than the coal mines. That’s where the money is. They’re hiring over at the Lucky Strike. You’d be a shoo-in, Jake.”
    He gripped the wooden block in his suddenly moist palm. Could he do it? Could he go underground again? To save the farm? Go in to darkness so thick you could cut it with a knife? The deathly silence, broken only by the shifting earth and dripping water?
    And the moans of the dying.
    He shoved the memories away, pushed them into the dark crevices of his mind and mentally sealed them off like a caved-in tunnel deep inside a mine. He couldn’t—wouldn’t—think about the mines. Not now.
    Not ever.
    McIver spoke up, a hint of steel and maybe anger in his normally quiet voice. “Quit filling the boy’s head with nonsense. Sheriff Carter’s been ailing and needs Jake in the worst way right now.”
    Jake focused on the block of wood in his hands. Think about the carving. Nothing but the knife and the smooth wood in his hands.
    The conversation wandered on to the weather and how long it might be before the snow melted.
    He let them talk while he worked, beginning to see the shape of a dog’s snout. He nodded. A dog it would be. If he didn’t chop off one of its legs or its head, that was.
    The bell over the door jingled, and he glanced up. Livy entered the store. His heart skipped a beat as her gaze slid across his. She smiled, the slightly uneven corners of her mouth pulling him in like a moth to a flame.
    “Good morning, Miss O’Brien. Can I help you with anything?” McIver asked.
    “No thank you. I’m just looking.” She nodded in the general direction of the men, skirted the gathering, and headed to the back of the store.
    Jake tried to concentrate on the conversation, now about some poor fellow over in Cooperstown who’d lost his foot in a mining accident, but he found it hard to think with Livy so close by. What was it about this little slip of a woman that made him forget everything but the sound of her skirts swishing along the aisles in the back of the store?
    When he chopped off the dog’s ear, he closed his knife and placed the piece of wood in his pocket. He eased the chair down and slipped away from the group. The men barely noticed his departure, they were so deep in a discussion about the price of coal.
    Livy stood near several bolts of bright cloth, fingering a robin’s-egg-blue ribbon the color of her eyes. She glanced up, gave him a tiny smile, and focused on the ribbon again. As usual, his heart clunked against his rib cage.
    “Morning.” He nodded at her.
    What was he doing? Hadn’t he told himself he didn’t have time to get mixed up with a girl?
    “Good morning to you, too.”
    He searched for something to say. Something that wouldn’t make this conversation personal. “How are the Hays children?”
    He congratulated himself on finding a topic that was important to both of them. That was, until her smile drooped and her eyes filled with sadness.
    “The baby’s too young to know what happened, but the girls cried most of the night and into the morning. Right now they’re too exhausted to cry anymore. We found out their mother died not too long ago, so this is really hard on them.”
    Poor tykes. To lose both parents so close together and at such a young age. Jake thought of his younger brother and sisters. When his father died, he’d been so focused on his own loss and stepping in as head of the household that he hadn’t really thought about his siblings’ grief. He’d make a point to spend time with them, not just rush around doing chores. Thank You, Lord. At