Page 44 of Wyoming Promises
Chapter Thirteen
Bridger slipped from the room while skies remained misty gray and Frank still snored.
He hadn’t bothered to light the lamp, afraid to disturb his brother’s hard-won respite. It served as a reminder that Frank’s hours in the room would be largely spent in the dark, fear of fire keeping him from lighting the lantern. And his meals would be reduced to trail rations—some jerky, crackers and a wedge of cheese, with water from a canteen filled daily in the creek. Frank wouldn’t starve, but he’d likely be a few pounds leaner by the time Bridger returned.
Bridger balanced his saddlebag across a shoulder and slipped into the saloon through the back door for some last-minute supplies. The long bar gleamed in the reflection of the mirror behind it, clean and at rest with the tables and chairs after another lively night.
The door of Ike’s suite creaked open. Mattie tiptoed through, hair disheveled and wrapped from neck to toes in a thin robe that in some strange way left less to the imagination than her usual costume. Bridger stood frozen, as heat blazed across his chest. He’d never considered himself a man to be swayed by a girl like Mattie, but she did hold her own charms. He cleared his throat so as not to startle her.
“Good morning, Bridger.” Mattie’s greeting came at a whisper, sultry and rough from smoke that filled this room each evening. She subdued a hank of curls behind one ear with a silky caress and smiled, her dimple flirtatious beneath sleepy eyes. “You’re up and at ’em early this morning, sugar,” she said, smoothing her robe over her hips. “Jasper leaves coffee for me, if you want some. It’s stale from last night, but plenty hot, and strong enough to stand a spoon.”
She wound past him, pulling the faded blue cloth tighter around her narrow waist, and moved toward the kitchen. Glad for dimness that he hoped hid his blush better than it hid her sway, he started to refuse. But she paused at the door to face him, her features bare and sweet, looking younger than he’d have thought her to be. “Please? It’d be nice to have a talk with you.”
Bridger nodded agreement and she flounced to the stove, her smile bright. He found it harder to stand his ground with this innocent version of Mattie than her usual flamboyant self. Sunshine struggled its way through the gray sky outside the swinging doors, likely a forecast of the rain he’d suffer through on the drive today. A few minutes to warm his gizzard shouldn’t cause much delay. His boots echoed across the floor.
Mattie returned with two chipped mugs, steam rising from the top of each one. Setting his coffee on the bar, she propped herself on a corner stool and patted another.
Bridger passed up the seat to lean against the bar. Mattie pulled a bottle of whiskey, doused her cup with a shot and raised her brow in question.
“No, thanks,” he said. “Kind of early, don’t you think?”
“Ah, but this is late night for me, sugar.” She replaced the cap and sipped from her mug, eyes closed as her smile melted into pleasure. “Besides, this is a habit from my grampa Finnegan.”
Bridger took a swallow, which burned a trail of fire down his throat. “Funny, I’ve been thinking of my grandfather a lot lately, too.” He coughed. “He tried to teach me to be a man. My father did all he could to undo it.” Bridger barked out a laugh.
Mattie squeezed his arm, her touch warm. “Your grampa must’ve done the better job, then, because you are one of the few gentlemen I’ve met in this town.” She slid her fingers away and wrapped them around the mug. “I know I’ve tried harder and been rewarded less with you than any other man.”
Her slim brows rose, and her alluring glance held hope.
“I got more problems than you need, Mattie,” he said. “Besides, Mr. Tyler might not take it too kindly.”
She waved her hand. “He doesn’t own me like he thinks he does, like he does half this town, anyway.”
“He does seem primed to gain a lot of money, the way this town is growing,” Bridger agreed. Maybe wealthy enough to fool a strong, beautiful businesswoman into believing he’d changed? The coffee churned in his gut at the notion.
“Ike does have a knack at pulling providence and timing together. Smart enough to play on the folks he needs to help him, too.”
Bridger looked across the room to Ike’s door, closed and silent. “You don’t sound too fond of him for someone who...”
She set down her cup and pulled her robe closer to her slender neck. “I work for Ike, but not like most folks think. This town doesn’t know it, but I run this place. Ike owns the saloon, but I’m the one to make sure it turns a profit.” She leaned toward him, her voice low and confidential. “It wouldn’t suit Ike for everyone to know, mind you. But it’s the truth. Anything else between us is, well, so we aren’t stuck being alone, I guess.”