Page 80 of Wyoming Promises
She wiped her hand across one eye, but not fast enough to catch tears falling from the other. “There’s more going on here. How did Ike get this? Why didn’t he come to me before?”
Bridger drew a shallow breath. “Mr. Tyler hoped you could arrive at another arrangement, but I understand that’s no longer the case. As for the ledger, I found it among your father’s things.”
Lola’s head throbbed. Something was missing. “You brought this to Ike’s attention. Is that it?”
His lean frame grew rigid. He raised his chin and broke his gaze from her pained expression. “He was grateful for the reminder. We’re splitting the profit from the interest.”
Lola trembled, pulling to her feet. How could she have been so blind, so wrong about Bridger? Hadn’t she learned anything from her broken engagement? She met his glassy stare. Why had she played the fool again? She’d been so sure Bridger Jamison was a far different sort of man.
She moved to the canister kept behind a loose brick in the fireplace. Her savings held nothing close to what she owed, but she could pay one month in good faith and discuss the matter with Ike. He had loved her once, of that she felt certain. Surely enough lingered to provide her some leeway. She bit her lip and thrust the bills under Bridger’s nose. “This should tide you over until next month. I’m afraid it’s all I have right now. You can tell your boss I’ll stop by tomorrow to renegotiate my balance.”
He took the bills, avoiding her fiery glare, and had the audacity to count them in front of her. “I appreciate your promptness in dealing with the matter, ma’am,” he said. His lips mashed together, crumpling at the ends. He moved toward the door with an unsteady gait. “I’ll see you next month.”
Lola caught him at the door, muscles tense with desire to crush his lithe form in it. “Don’t bother. I’ll be dealing directly with Mr. Tyler and his other men.” She drew herself up. “The snake that rattles at least provides a warning.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Bridger faced Lola as he stepped onto the porch. The broken trust in her glare staggered him. She looked slight and forlorn in the shadows, lips drawn tight with anger. Her long, pale fingers clung to the ledger. His heart jumped in his chest and he stretched an arm toward her. Her flinch cut him, and he knew he couldn’t go through with this charade. There had to be another way. “Lola, I have to tell you—”
But her gaze focused beyond him. “What’s that glow?” she asked.
He pivoted on his heel to follow her line of vision. Heavy fog reflected a red glow somewhere around the bend in the road, toward the middle of town. Fire!
“That’s the hotel!” Lola picked up her skirts and dashed over the steps.
The stitch in his ribs stabbed him as he struggled to keep up. They joined the throng, the whole town racing. Some scrambled for buckets while others shuffled children away from the flames. Men closest to the hotel tossed water from nearby wooden troughs. Women joined in the battle, forming brigade lines. Jake Anderson ordered men into position, his commands all but drowned out by the roar and crackle of the blaze.
Bridger pushed through the crowd, guiding Lola from behind. They joined a second bucket line, and he grabbed the pump handle. The first tug burned along his ribs.
“You can’t, Bridger.” Lola thrust him away. “I’ll do it.”
“Faster together,” he said. “Help me.”
Together they locked hands along the red saloon pump. Bridger lost track of time as buckets, pots and wash bins of all shapes and sizes waited to capture the cool water they forced from the ground. Hot smoke blew toward him. He raised his bandanna to cover his nose, but Lola had no such protection. She coughed soot from her lungs, and her hair slipped from its knot. Ash-gray streaks clung to her cheeks. But she hung on and matched him pull for pull, with a stiff shake of her head in refusal of the neckerchief he offered.
“That hotel’s a goner,” one breathless voice said.
“Can’t let it get to the mercantile,” another added.
“Tyler won’t be happy.”
He couldn’t bother to focus on anything except to keep the water flowing. If the fire spread, it endangered all of Quiver Creek.
Time lost meaning before the roar that filled the night around them dulled to a sharp crackle of embers. He continued to pump, determined not to fail Lola again.
Her soft touch at his shoulder grabbed his attention. “Bridger! It’s enough. The fire’s all but out now. You have to rest.” She drew his clamped hands away and tugged the kerchief from his face. “We kept it from spreading. But the hotel is gone.”