Page 81 of Wyoming Promises
Bridger grabbed her roughened hand in his and dragged her toward the source of roiling smoke. The grand hotel Ike envisioned lay in a pile of glowing embers. Townspeople stood in quiet pods around the destruction, panting for lack of air and breath. He caught sight of Jake seated on the porch of the general store, where Grace wrapped a bandage around his upper arm.
Catching sight of Lola, she called out in a raspy voice for her friend. Lola grabbed his sleeve and dragged him behind. Maybe she would try to turn him in after all. The coward in him hoped she would.
“What happened?” she asked.
Jake shrugged. “Too soon to know.”
Lola snapped her hands against her hips. “I mean to you!”
He glanced at the cloth Grace tied off. “Caught a burn, but it’s not bad.”
Bridger knew from his blanched face the instant Jake remembered what the fire fight had interrupted. “Listen, Lola,” the marshal began, “we really need to talk about—”
Ike’s voice boomed from the quiet of the crowd. “I found the rat that started this fire!” Toby and Jim broke through the cluster of folks gathered and shoved their captive to the ground. The huge man collapsed to his knees, bracing with his hands. When the fearful eyes rose to the people around him, Bridger leaped.
Frank!
He stormed ahead, shaking off Jake’s hands to help his brother. “What’s going on here?”
Ike smoothed his mustache, face pale and clean in the aftermath, as if he stepped fresh from the bathhouse. Far be it for the man to appear mussed and dirty in public, even if it meant saving his own business.
“I came out when I heard the commotion, saw the flames coming from the hotel. Fortunately, Toby and Jim were surveying the town and saw this strange fellow throw a torch into the back of my hotel!”
Bridger stepped between his brother and Ike. “That’s impossible!”
Toby shoved him back.
Ike’s voice rose above the crowd. “Look at him! I knew the minute I saw him in this town that big freak would bring nothing but trouble!”
Bridger’s chest grew tight. “He’s my brother, and he hasn’t done a thing wrong.”
Ike smirked. “I trust my men. And I know what I’ve heard from folks in the towns you’ve passed through.”
Bridger resisted the press of the crowd and leaned back to grab his brother’s arm as murmurs grew louder.
“Awful big fella.”
“Doesn’t look right in the head, does he?”
“Probably don’t even know what he’s done. Ought to be locked up, man like that.”
Bridger lunged at Ike. “Tell them the truth!”
The marshal stepped between, blocking him before he met his target. “Don’t push this,” Jake whispered.
Bridger coughed and grabbed his tight ribs. “I’m not going to let this mob get my brother,” he ground out.
Jake stared at him, weighing the choice in the balance. Then he held his hands up, never breaking his gaze from Bridger’s. “My name is Jake Anderson. I’m a U.S. marshal here to investigate the death of your sheriff. I’m taking this man into custody for questioning in regards to the fire until I can gather the information I need.”
Bridger’s heart plummeted at the sight of his brother’s fearful face.
Jake grabbed Frank and hauled him toward the jail. “I’m declaring a curfew over Quiver Creek this evening, starting now. Mr. Tyler’s men will continue to monitor the fire and make sure it’s completely out. Everyone else, go home.”
Marshal Anderson paused a moment as he trudged past. “It’s the best way to keep our cover at this point,” he said, his voice a low rumble, no one close enough to hear. “And the only way to keep Frank safe until we straighten this out.”
The crowd slipped off, voices hot and hard despite the restored order. Lola wrapped her arms around Grace’s shoulders. Bridger watched them make their way toward Lola’s home, but she never glanced back. Toby and the other men brushed by him to start the cleanup, raking embers into piles.
Bridger glanced around in the darkness, standing alone. Fire rose from deep inside his chest. How much am I to take, Lord? Please, don’t let Frank pay for my mistakes.
* * *
Lola wrapped her dark shawl close and maneuvered the quiet street, sticking to the shadows.
Sending Grace ahead to get comfortable, she returned to the scattering crowd, darting behind Jake’s determined tread. He kept a strong, stiff arm on Frank’s slumped shoulder, pushing him toward the jail, while Bridger hustled to follow. She determined to talk to Jake about Frank. Grace had been none too pleased with the notion of her defying the marshal’s orders to sneak into town, but how could she abandon Frank?