Page 37 of Wyoming Promises
Ike’s fire lay low, but steady, like it had the night he’d been hired. Bridger recognized it and the warning it delivered. He couldn’t imagine the hows or whys of a woman with the class and beauty of Lola Martin even considering marriage to a snake like Ike Tyler. But Ike was right. He needed this job and the pay if he were ever going to provide something better for Frank than a stuffy room next to the noisy saloon of a growing town. He had no claim on Lola and no right to do any more than he’d been hired for.
He swallowed hard and nodded. Picking up the hammer, he turned for another board and some extra nails to tuck under the edge of his lip. “I got that—boss,” he mumbled around a mouthful of nails and began pounding. He’d be no better than Frank, getting involved where he wasn’t wanted. On the other hand, maybe Lola ought to be the one to say so. She certainly hadn’t given the impression she found his presence difficult to tolerate this past week or so.
“I’m glad you understand your position, Jamison,” Ike said. His smile shone below his oiled mustache, that instant calm as infuriating as his possessiveness. “It never pays not to follow my orders, though you’ll have to take my word on that. There’s no one still around that’s had the audacity to try.”
* * *
Lola returned her teacup to the saucer with a delicate clink. As much as she hated to burden Grace with more thoughts of death, the comfortable spot at her friend’s table soothed her sadness. “I’ll miss Mr. Anthony so much. I can’t imagine what happened,” she said.
Grace’s hand fluttered over her growing belly. “Where did they find him?”
Lola bit her tongue, thinking how weak her loss must seem compared to her friend. “The bottom of his stairs, Toby said. Like he’d fallen on his way down. But Mr. Anthony wasn’t a tottering old man, Grace. He wouldn’t just—”
“Accidents happen, Lola. You know that better than most, I’d say. Besides, our time is appointed by God, and when He calls, we go. We can take comfort in the fact that Cecil knew the Lord and was ready for Heaven.”
She couldn’t stop a small smile that grew with the thought of Mr. Anthony seeing his dear wife again, but glanced away to the window, the notion too heavy to share with her friend.
“I’m sorry to burden you with this all. It’s just been so...difficult these past few months, harder than I’d have thought. I know we had plans for later this week, but I needed to get away from my house for a while. Does that make any sense?”
Grace stretched a hand to pat her arm. “You were right to come here. I would have wanted to know, and sharing a sorrow lightens the heart.”
“But maybe not so much for you,” Lola said.
Grace shook her head, swirling her tea in the cup. “Losing Pete hurts so bad, nothing can make it worse.”
Lola squeezed her hands together as tears filled her vision and threatened to fall. “I’m sorry for being so selfish. We must discuss brighter things. How has it been, having your parents here?”
Grace sniffed and dabbed her eyes with a lace-edged handkerchief. “They’re a godsend. Pa’s management skills have transferred to the ranch as well as they worked in his store back home. I believe he’s gotten younger since they arrived, out surveying the herd and such, getting things ready to brand calves and move them to summer grazing.”
“How is your mother adjusting?”
Grace smiled. “Better than I expected. She’s never lived outside of town, but there’s something about the air and the mountains, she says, that gives her new vitality. I think she’s falling in love with Wyoming the same way I did. It’s been good to hear word from home, family and friends, too. She’s stepped in to care for me like I’m a little girl again, and maybe it’s wrong, but it’s been a great help.”
“I’m glad.”
“Me, too,” Grace said. “At first, I wasn’t so sure. But it’s given me time to grieve Pete without being overwhelmed by everything else.”
Lola nodded. She’d been more alone than ever after Papa died, and taking time to plan what she should do had proved impossible. She’d had to step into Papa’s shoes from the start, with he and the man responsible both to bury right after it happened.
She fingered the delicate crochet of the tablecloth. “That’s good news after this hard spring we’ve had in Quiver Creek. So much bad news...too much.”
Grace’s eyes widened and she slipped around the table to edge the curtain back from the window. “Speaking of—here comes that marshal!” She brushed her skirt and moved toward the door at a speed surprising for a woman with her baby girth.