by Regina Scott
Besides, wasn’t this akin to pulling your donkey out of a ditch on the Sabbath? Pastor Evans had spoken in his message this morning about Jesus being condemned for the work He did, mainly because folks didn’t really understand exactly what He was doing. Even Jesus hadn’t been able to tell folks everything at the time, because they couldn’t have handled it just then.
He hadn’t thought much about Jesus and what He did during His time on earth in a long, long time. It surprised him to realize the Lord understood his place in the whole mess, at least so far as he stood in Lola’s eyes.
Ike met him as he rounded the corner. “Bridger, just the man I hoped to see.” His mustache twitched over a false smile. “Quite the surprise to see you bringing a stranger to church this morning. That’s right Christian of you.”
Bridger squared his shoulders. He forced his muscles to stay loose, fighting the tension Ike brought. “He’s my brother, and he stays with me in the room. He wanted to go to church, and it was time.”
Ike stretched his arm, pushing against a rough plank of the saloon wall and blocking the narrow path to the street. “Folks knowing your secret don’t give your brother any protection if you cross me. You realize that, don’t you?” His voice dropped low but held the same conversational tone.
Bridger ground his boot heel into the dust, gaze unflinching. “Why would I do that? I’m thinking you have a good system, sir,” he managed to choke out. “I’m fortunate to be cut in on it. Why lose my shot at that kind of money?”
Ike’s smile grew into a greedy laugh and he plunked his other hand on Bridger’s shoulder. “I knew I had you pegged. I knew it.”
Bridger wondered, but bit his tongue. “I’ve only been going for my brother’s sake.” At least, that had been the case up until a few weeks ago. “Besides, having one of your men attend services can only improve your image, right?”
Ike’s teeth resembled fangs of a wolf as the notion grew to full thought in his head. “I suppose that’s right. I like the way you think! But you make sure that Sunday stuff doesn’t interfere with your job.”
Bridger adjusted his hat to block the bright sun from his eyes. “You can be sure it won’t, Mr. Tyler. I’m interested in moving up the ranks of your men.”
Ike’s eyes gleamed with the desperation Bridger threw into every word. “You’re looking to oust Toby? Is that it?”
“I don’t need to replace him,” Bridger said. He didn’t need Toby stirred against him any more than he already was. “But if you expand as the town grows, it might be more than one right-hand man can handle.”
Ike fairly salivated with the praise, like a greedy dog with a large bone dreaming of his next meal. “I have been meaning to talk to you about another errand. If you think you’re up to it.”
Bridger allowed his own small smile, praying Ike couldn’t detect his pounding heart. “I am. Trust me when I tell you, I know exactly what I want to do here, and there’s no one who will turn me from it.”
Chapter Twenty
Lola tested her hot tea with a sip. The earthy smell of sassafras filled Grace’s cozy parlor with fresh sweetness. Visiting her dearest friend filled her heart with the same. She missed Pete’s boisterous teasing, and more so Grace’s wry grin of sufferance. Still, Grace’s tranquil joy would not be denied.
“He was just so excited, having the chance to be in church. It was like watching a child at his first birthday party.”
“Certainly makes you see things with new eyes, doesn’t it?”
Grace looked down to secure her next stitch. “I think it’s sweet the way Bridger watches over his brother.”
“I agree.” Lola bit her lip. Had she said that aloud?
“Well!” Grace dropped the baby sweater she knitted to her lap. “It gives me hope to hear you say so!”
She took another swallow of hot tea, using the gentle burn as an excuse not to answer right away. “Don’t start,” she warned, unable to prevent the smile growing across her face.
Grace rolled her eyes as if to say she hadn’t the least notion of what that meant. “He’s a good man, Lola. And gentlemanly and solicitous toward women and children, and those he cares for…”
“By keeping them locked away from the world for as long as he can.” Lola set her plate on the table with a decided rattle.
“His heart is open toward God….”
Lola shook her head. “Frank pushed him into coming, from what I gather.”
But Grace continued. “He’s a good worker, holding two jobs to provide, and he’s willing to take time to help others in need.”
Lola shrugged. She had a point.
“And it certainly doesn’t damage the eyes to look at him.”
“Grace!” Lola spread her hands before her on the table. “You shouldn’t notice such things!”
Her friend allowed one of those wide, teasing smiles that came less frequently these days. “But your reply tells me you haven’t been prevented from noticing.”
Heat engulfed her, tingling from the base of her neck until her ears singed. “No fair!” she said.
Soft giggles rolled from Grace until she held her rounded belly with a grimace. “Oh! The child steals my breath already.”
“If you didn’t tease, you wouldn’t agitate him so.” Lola stood, reaching toward her friend. “Are you all right?”
Grace waved her back. “I’m fine. He’s growing and getting heavy, that’s all. Makes it hard to breathe sometimes.”
Lola settled into her chair. “I guess that’s normal, then. You’ve been feeling all right otherwise? Did you see Doc Kendall?”
“Yes, of course. Everything’s fine. Don’t change the subject,” Grace said.
“With all the new arrivals, there are several handsome men bound to be among them.” Lola sipped her lukewarm tea over dry lips. She held her chin up with a regal tilt and fluttered her lashes, smiling. “Marshal Anderson is a fine-looking gentleman, as well, but perhaps it’s not ladylike to say so.”
Color rose in Grace’s cheeks, making Lola wonder. “You have noticed,” she said.
Grace shrugged, but her downcast eyes proved her forced nonchalance. “He stops by every few days to update me on Pete’s case.” Her voice grew soft. “There’s nothing wrong with noticing. Besides, we were speaking of you.”
Lola stared at her friend and stretched her hand to cover Grace’s long fingers. “It only surprises me, so soon after Pete…”
Tears dripped from Grace’s eyes and speckled her cheeks. “Out here, Lola, things are different. You know that. There’s no timeline on love and loss.”
Lola squeezed her hand and tilted her face into Grace’s line of sight, rolling her eyes in a way that never failed to make her friend laugh. “So?”
“I’m not ready or in any way looking for romance, Lola. I get the idea Jake Anderson is a patient man, though. But that’s neither here nor there at the moment. Now could be your time,” she said.
Lola tapped her fingernails together, avoiding Grace’s bright eyes. Then she rested her chin on curled fingers and slid a loose wisp of hair behind her ear. “I think…” She leaned forward, smile growing with her certainty. She faced her friend. “I think I’m hoping it is.”
*
Bridger dismounted on the other side of a stand of trees outside of town. Quiver Creek wound its way through a nearby pass and farther down the mountain. Close enough to reach easily, but far enough from town to divert suspicion and avoid the eyes of Ike’s henchmen.
The water gurgled and bounced over rocks and the sound of rapids ahead disguised any noise of the town left behind. The peaceful grove made a perfect spot to meet with Marshal Anderson but did nothing to ease the ache in his gut.
He drew into the shadows as a horse loped in his direction, until he saw the familiar bay. “Evening, Jake.”
The marshal landed on his feet before his mount came to a full stop, glancing about the shadows with a casual gaze. “Good to see you. What do you have for me?”
Jake rattled it before loosening the tie to peer inside. He let a low whistle fly. “You’ve been busy.”
Bridger shoved his fingers deeper into his gloves. “Don’t remind me. I haven’t gotten this many black looks since I snuck a frog into Sunday school.”
A gleam of a smile met him through the growing twilight. “You get used to it. I see them all the time.”
Bridger huffed. “From criminals, maybe. But these are good, decent, working folks, and they see me robbing them of hard-won wages, nice as you please.”
Jake stepped closer until his features became more distinct in the faint light of the quarter moon. “Only for a time, Jamison. We’ll set the record straight, soon as we get all the information on Tyler and have everyone rounded up. Then we’ll make it right.”
Bridger jammed his hands into coat pockets and paced between two trees at the river’s edge. “I haven’t thought on my ma in years, but doing this…I wonder all the time what she’d think.”
Jake stopped him short with a firm grasp to his shoulder. “She’d think of all the folks you’re helping. You’re not really doing this, you know.”
“I know it,” he ground out. “But these people don’t.” The marshal had no idea how he clenched his jaw to avoid a confession. He longed to explain his actions were only part of the plan to catch Ike. The need to tell Lola before she heard the wrong side of the story pressed against him. What if keeping his cover took more strength than he possessed?
“We can’t risk Tyler catching wind of it, or else he could pull the whole operation and set up elsewhere. Then we’d need another year to put him out of business.” Jake slid his hat back from his forehead and drew a deep breath. “If you jump the gun too soon, we lose him. Or worse, endanger them. You understand that, right?”
Anger flared in Bridger’s chest. “I know my part.” He stepped away, damp grass whispering against his boots.
Jake stood to full height, his hard expression showing how he generally dealt with that tone in others.
Bridger held up a hand. “I’m sorry. I have no call to blame you. I got myself into this mess.” He rubbed his face. “I’m just happy you believed my story and were willing to help me.”
Jake shifted the sack of money in his palm. “I promise you, Bridger, you’re coming out a hero on this.”
“I don’t give a beaver stump about that so long as no one gets hurt,” he said.
Jake’s whisper carried on the evening breeze. “I know you’re worried about your brother. We can move him out of town, somewhere no one needs to know.”
Bridger shook his head. “That would be worse. Frank and I haven’t been separated since I walked home from the war and found Ma had died, left him on his own for the last year of the fighting. You should’ve seen him. I…” He drew a deep breath, thinking of conditions his brother had faced in the burned-out shell of their home. “He wouldn’t do well, separated from me. He wouldn’t stand for it.”
“I could help you explain—”
“I can handle Frank. I considered all that before I ever talked with you. He would insist I helped you, anyway, if he knew.” Bridger hunkered down, staring out along the rush of water heading far away from town, getting swallowed up into bigger and bigger streams and rivers until it mingled with the wide ocean. “I haven’t told him anything because I figure the less he knows, the better off we all are.” Lola’s safety would be at risk, too. He wished he held enough faith in Ike’s feelings toward her to believe she’d remain safe, but instincts told him otherwise. “Frank’s not the only one who could be hurt by the time we’re through.”
“When do you head out again?” Jake asked.
Bridger paused before drawing his focus to the task at hand. “In a couple days. Ike wants me to take Jimmy’s route this week, my own a couple weeks after that.”
“Does he consider this a promotion?” Jake scribbled in his notes.
Bridger nodded. “Of sorts. Jimmy busted his foot when he dropped a bedpost while moving it to the top floor in the hotel. I figure Ike aims to punish him for his carelessness.”
“This gets us a step closer. You’ll get the information to me next week, then?” Jake moved to place the sack of money into his saddlebag.
“We can meet here when I get everything squared away with Ike.”
Jake grabbed the pommel of his saddle but made no move to mount. “Take heart, man. We get closer to having all we need every time he sends you out.”
Bridger agreed, but it didn’t mean he could relax anytime soon. “I only hope it’s not too late by that point.”
Jake gazed toward the creek. “I wish I could tell you no one will be hurt and you’ll be exonerated of everything in folks’ opinions. I can’t make their minds up on that, but I can promise they’ll hear about the good you’ve done to restore true law and order in this town.”
Bridger nodded. “I know I’ll likely have to move on by the time we’re done, and if it puts Ike out of business, it’ll be well worth it. Besides,” he said, climbing into his saddle, “I’ve been moving on my whole life.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Lola smoothed gloves over her fingers as she trudged the steps to the Jamison brothers’ room. The squeak and groan of a chair against the floorboards rattled through the thin door, and moments passed before Frank opened it.
“Good morning, Frank. It’s Sunday and I’ve come to take you to church with me.”
He rubbed his bleary eyes, glancing at the room behind him. A forlorn shadow crossed his face. “I don’t reckon I ought to,” he said.
“Whyever not? Aren’t you feeling well?” She stretched the back of her hand against his cool cheek.
Frank stepped away and plunked down on the edge of the narrow bed, leaving the door open wide. “No, ma’am. I mean, yes, ma’am, I feel fine. But Bridge wouldn’t like it.”
Lola leaned her head against the doorjamb. He looked so pitiful, his disappointment keen. “He brought you himself last week. I’m sure he would want you to continue.”
“But he’s not here. He worries about me going without him.” Frank bit his thumb. “He works too hard to worry so much.”
Lola sighed. “I know.”
Ike had kept him busier than ever this week and sent him away again. She didn’t understand all of Ike’s business dealings, of course, but he had taken a liking to Bridger. For some reason, though, Bridger didn’t seem altogether thrilled with the prospect of becoming such a valued employee. Instead he’d grown more tense, more terse and less teasing.
But that shouldn’t prevent Frank from taking advantage of his newfound freedom. “Church is exactly the place we should be, then, to pray for him and for strength to help him.”
Frank’s eyes clouded in deliberation. “I don’t want to scare nobody if he’s not around to fix it. That would make it worse.”
“Well, you don’t scare me, Frank Jamison. I’d be pleased to have such a fine-looking fellow escort me. Please say you’ll come. We’ll have a picnic with Grace after the service.”
Frank rubbed his palms on his pants, then gazed at her, the smile he shared with his brother creasing his face. “You really think I’m handsome?”
She tapped her lips, giving him the critical eye. Frank’s broad form and rusty waves would draw plenty of attention if not for the dullness behind his blue eyes. “I do. But more important, God doesn’t look at that. He looks at your heart. And you, sir, have a good heart, focused on the Lord. So please come to church with me.”
Frank jumped to his feet. “Thanks, Miss Lola! Thanks a bunch! Bridger won’t be so worried if he knows you were with me.”
She giggled at his enthusiasm. “Are you ready?”
He rubbed a hand over his smooth jaw. “I shaved and all, but let me slick my hair and get a tie and coat. I’ll just be a m
inute, promise.”
“There’s plenty of time. I’ll wait downstairs.” She backed away and pulled the door shut.
“I’ll be right down,” he said, his voice rumbling through before it closed. “And I’m awful glad I picked you those flowers, even if Bridger didn’t like it so much.”
Lola halted, covering a snicker with her gloved hand. So Frank had been her mystery florist. She could imagine Bridger’s reaction to that, but it eased her heart to know. Not only did Frank flatter her with his caring heart and charm, knowing who had left the flowers lessened the tension she worked so hard to deny.
She waited on the walkway out front. The saloon sat silent at this hour, more gray and unflattering than the lively music and pretentious lighting of the evening made it appear. She spotted the table where she and Bridger had met for supper and smiled. She hoped he rode with safety on the trail and returned soon. Drawing her arm around her waist, she held her Bible close. Frank wasn’t the only one who missed him.
The creak of the saloon door drew her attention. Ike stepped through—tall, dashing, with his mustache precisely waxed. He carried a gallant quality that drew the eye. Such a shame it masked a cavalier and unfaithful heart.
Surprise dawned across his face. “Good morning, Lola! Is there something you need?” His gaze appeared hopeful, but for all the wrong reasons. How had she missed it before? Ike preyed on folks like the wolf in a fairy tale, pretending concern while using another’s need for his own gain.
The thought rattled her, and his tilted head made her realize she’d been caught staring. “I’m waiting for Mr. Jamison to escort me to church.”
His smile broadened, his gaze deepened, and he stood by her side in two long paces. “Didn’t Bridger tell you he’d be out of town?”
“I’m speaking of his brother, Frank,” she said, keeping her tone cool. “Bridger mentioned you were sending him on business.”
“I’m glad I caught you, then, my dear. A woman such as yourself ought not be found alone in the company of a man like Frank Jamison. I’ll be glad to escort you both,” he said. His hand rested at her wrist.