Page 36 of Wyoming Promises
“Here, I’ll get it,” Bridger insisted, stooping to gather the bloody rags at his feet.
She bent to pick up the materials she’d been using. Her hands brushed his as they grabbed for the pan together, and Lola found herself staring into his eyes, no longer dull and closed, but deep brown with golden flecks lit by the sun. Her breath caught.
“There,” Ike said, tossing the remaining ball of catgut into the pan. He glanced between them. “Send me the bill for your service to his hand. After all, he is my employee. Besides, you’ll both be busy for a while. Bridger, I have another delivery for you. And, Lola,” he said, looking her square in the eye, “you have a body to care for. We found Cecil Anthony dead this morning.”
Chapter Ten
Bridger steadied a nail with his bandaged finger and pounded it into the boards. Standing on top of the second-floor roof gave him a good view of the town, and he imagined what it would look like from the third and final story. Tall building for this town, but given the number of folks moving in and about Quiver Creek, it wouldn’t be the last.
He wiped his sleeve across his forehead, peering across to Lola’s place. Her tears at Ike’s callous announcement had proved his undoing. Guilt and gratitude had swelled together when Ike had ordered his escape and sent him to help Toby retrieve the body and deliver the old man to Lola’s place.
By the time they’d returned, she’d donned a fresh apron and enough determination to cover her grief and do her job. She’d pulled the white sheet down to reveal purple bruises covering the storekeeper’s face, and her fingers had traced the edge of his head with loving care.
Given the fierce protectiveness the man had shown for Lola, their relationship had been a close one. How could Lola bear to do her job, when it came to preparing loved ones for burial?
“How long you think one nail will hold that beam, Jamison?” Toby called from the ground.
Bridger refocused and reached for another nail. Ike had sent the other men on extra patrols around town, leaving him to deal with Toby’s grumpy disposition alone. “We’d finish twice as fast if you’d come on up and pound a few yourself.”
“I got things to attend to on the ground,” Toby said. He’d never set foot on the second floor until they completed the walls, and his tone confirmed Bridger’s suspicion: the man feared heights.
Ike sauntered along the street, clearing the bend from the mortuary. Frustration spiked in Bridger’s chest. He pounded another nail in two heavy swipes and moved for another board.
“You’re making good progress,” Ike said from the street, hand shielding his eyes as he tilted his head. “Good to see your injuries aren’t holding you back from the work you’re being paid to do.”
“How’s Lola?”
“I just left her, poor thing. That old man meant something to her, I suppose.”
Bridger glanced down before setting another nail. “He watched out for her, that’s for sure. Between her father, the sheriff and now Mr. Anthony, she’s had a lot of tough work lately.”
Toby grunted. “Woman like that best get used to it.”
Bridger dropped the board he held and hunkered down to get as close as he could at this height to Toby’s swarthy face. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I don’t reckon she has any business taking on a man’s work like she done. She gets a mite more personal with her ‘guests,’ like she calls them, than Mattie does with ours. She ought to find a man and get married like any respectable woman—”
The hammer flew from Bridger’s hand, narrowly missing Toby’s head. “You lousy, judgmental—”
“Whoa, now!” Ike raised hands toward him, stepping closer to Toby and picking up the tool. “Back off, Jamison. A man has a right to his opinion, and it’s not like half the town doesn’t agree with him.”
“You’re supposed to be helping her!”
“I do. Lola and I go way back. At one point, we were betrothed, and if I have my way, we will be again. That would be the greatest help she could get. She just isn’t of a mind to see it yet. But she will. Soon.”
Bridger’s finger throbbed with every heave of his chest. His jaw clenched until he almost choked with the desire to rage on. He stood and stepped away from the edge, never tearing his gaze from Ike’s. His memory burned with the knowledge of his father’s temper. “Miss Lola seems to be a woman of her own mind, if you ask me,” he said, taming his furious tongue.
“She’s in mourning now—her mind’s not thinking clearly. She’ll come around,” Ike said. He tossed the hammer high and it landed with a skid across the floorboards. “The point is, it certainly isn’t any of your concern either way. You’re hired—by me—to help her out. So don’t go thinking you’re anything more than the handyman, you got that?”