Page 35 of Wyoming Promises

“You’re pretty good at this. You ever think of being a doctor instead of the undertaker?” he asked.

“To be honest, I have,” she said, even more grateful to not have to look him in the eye. Not even her father had known. “But there’s a lot more to it than a few little stitches in a clumsy carpenter’s finger.”

She made her final stitch and tied off the end before moving to her feet and facing him. “There you go. Try to move it—gently. Make sure there isn’t more damage.”

He drew his fingers into a claw a few times, but his brown eyes focused on her face. “Why didn’t you ever try to go to school to be a doctor, Lola? Any woman as smart as you, doing what you do, why, you’d be a fine one.”

She broke his gaze with a laugh. “Nice as it might be to try and keep folks away from the job I do now, it’s not that simple. Colleges that allow women are rare as it is, let alone medical school. And even if one could be found, they are plenty expensive to attend.”

“So how’d you get into this?” His square chin pointed to her home, her business, his voice still steady and serious.

“Papa taught me. His uncle was an undertaker back in Boston, and he learned by helping out as a boy, I suppose. But there wasn’t as much to it then, from all Papa said.”

“You do more than most,” Bridger said. “How’d he learn all that?”

“Papa tried a lot of things, but folks always called on him when someone passed on, even before Mama died. When the War Between the States broke out, Papa felt called to help, though he was old for the fight. Uncle Joseph and Aunt Betty came and lived with me here, and Papa went to war.”

Bridger shifted on the stool. “A lot of young men didn’t come marching home again.”

“You?”

“I fought,” he said.

When he offered nothing further, she continued. “They put Papa to work with the doctors as a medic, due to his age and background. If a soldier died in camp or not so far from home, sometimes they or the family would try to get him home for burial. After the war, Papa heard of a school opening up to teach the science behind it, all they’d learned over the course of the war. The teachers traveled around the country, I guess, offering classes. Not everyone goes about it that way, of course. Most towns, I suppose, just wake and bury the dead right quick.”

Bridger nodded. “That’s been my experience.”

“Anyway, with more people heading West but having family back East, greater need for Papa’s services came. Without Mama around, he needed my help, and so I learned.”

“You do a fine job, too.” Bridger held up his fist and examined her work. “You’d make a pretty fair seamstress, as well.” His lopsided smile teased her and his conversation brought familiar warmth.

She grabbed his wrist and cradled his hand, scrunching her face, feigning close inspection. But she couldn’t hold it when he roared with laughter.

“I must apologize for interrupting this cozy scene—”

Lola jumped to her feet as Ike sauntered around the corner of the house. “Ike, you startled me!” She dropped Bridger’s hand, and heat blazed her cheeks.

Bridger also stood, though not so fast. “I cut my hand up pretty good, Mr. Tyler. Miss Lola stitched me back together, you see.”

Ike smirked, that all-knowing expression she recognized from their days of courtship. It still set her teeth on edge. “I saw enough to assure me you’ll be in fine shape for longer hours on my projects,” he said.

“He’ll need to keep an eye on that hand, make sure it doesn’t get infected,” she said. She crossed her arms in front of her. “Was there something particular you needed, Ike?”

He brushed his mustache with a finger and stepped closer. He looked down at her, eyes sparkling and lips quirked at the corner in that way she’d found so appealing years ago. “I always need to make sure you’re well and have all the assistance you require. After all we’ve been through together, and for friendship’s sake, you know I’m only teasing, right?”

His sincere, kind tone always brought that queasy flutter to her chest. He teased as a brother might, but really, wasn’t his concern from the heart?

“I know, Ike.” She gave him a warm smile that faded as Bridger’s gaze drew blank. “I also know you have the propriety to come to my front door if you’re looking to speak with me.”

He tipped his hat and laughed. “I’m caught! I heard Mr. Jamison’s voice as I walked up, so I hope you’ll pardon me this once.”

“Oh, I see,” Lola said. “You gentlemen go ahead and discuss what you need to. I’ll pick up my things and get out of your way.”