Page 84 of Wyoming Promises
Bridger stared at Lola. Her quiet strength gained the marshal’s attention, too. Soft lantern light around the jail office gave her a warm glow, as pink returned to her face. “How did you—?”
Lola sent a wink toward Frank before she faced Jake. “I can testify to that, Marshal. Shouldn’t that be enough for you?”
Jake wiped soot from his eyes and grinned. “Having the confidence of a fine, upstanding businesswoman such as you should go a long way to ease the public’s fears.”
Bridger stepped forward, grasping Lola’s warm hands. This woman, who had been given so many reasons not to trust him—did. “Thank you, Lola. Just when I think I’ve tangled things up so bad even the Lord won’t unwind it all, He reminds me what a little trust can do.” He squeezed her fingers with gentle pressure, feeling their smoothness beneath his calluses. “We’ll give you an hour to explain it all to Grace at your place, and then we’ll have to bring you both here.”
She leaned back but didn’t pull her hands away. “The jail? Why?”
Jake stood tall, voice firm. “It’s easier to guard you here. Once morning comes, we’ll scout town, learn the lay of the land, so to speak, and then decide what to do next.”
Bridger rubbed his neck and glanced at Frank, who waited in silence, hands grasping the bars with his broad face pressed between.
“What do you think, Frank?”
His brother grinned. “I think we’re a scary-looking pair of fellas, Bridge. I’ll back whatever you say.”
Bridger crooked his lip, scar tugging his mouth. Tension stiffened his muscles, and uncertainty clawed at every sense, but calm peace flooded his mind. The Lord had more for them to do, but He promised to help them every step of the way. He’d sent unflappable faith through his brother and firm assurance from this beautiful lady to confirm that. “We’ll see you again within the hour, Lola. This time, we’re coming even if the whole town goes up in smoke.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
The door creaked open with a careful push, and Lola glanced behind into the night before stepping through. Grace sat in the rocker, head leaned against the high rest, eyes closed. She rubbed a hand over her swollen middle with a firm press.
“Grace? Are you all right?”
Her friend blinked and coughed a rough bark. “Just tired. I swallowed a bit of smoke and this baby is giving me fits, that’s all.”
Lola rushed to her side, feeling for a pulse at her wrist and pressing her hand against the bulge of baby. “That’s all? You should be resting!”
A wan smile crossed Grace’s gentle face. “And so I was.”
“I mean lying down,” Lola said.
Grace sat upright. “Nonsense. This baby might as well know from the start I don’t plan to be too indulgent with him. What did Jake say? Can he help?”
Lola looked at her friend and patted her hand. “There’s more going on here than we knew.”
She explained all she could in gentle tones but kept the details direct and light. Her words flew in a rush, a feeling of haste pressuring her heart. Bridger and Jake had created an environment of tense caution she carried home.
Grace’s face paled, wrinkles creasing her forehead. Her eyes grew large with understanding. “So they think Pete was murdered?”
The tense quirk of her lips begged Lola to say she’d drawn the wrong conclusion. Lola believed that everything would have made more sense somehow had her papa died in an accident. Knowing hate had killed a man so full of love...was more difficult to understand.
She breathed deep and prayed for the right words to come. “Yes, Grace.”
“But they said—” Her friend’s coloring blanched further, lips a thin, bloodless line. “They said he fell from a horse, probably spooked by the cat he was chasing. You said—”
“I guessed, because he’d been called out to hunt. But the marks, Grace—something didn’t look right.” She knelt at the side of the rocker and smoothed her billowed skirt. “I think that’s why I followed through and sent the wire to the federal marshal in the first place. Even more strange, I found some of the same marks on Cecil Anthony.” Her mind flooded with memories of her father’s death and she shuddered. Papa’s neck had been broken, too.
She tugged on Grace’s arm. “Think carefully. Did Pete mention anything he had been working on? Jake said he found nothing in his files at the office, but maybe he kept notes somewhere else.”
Grace chewed her lip and rubbed her bleary eyes.
Lola settled closer. “Bridger found Papa’s ledger in an old box of notes. Did Pete have any certain place where he kept important papers at home?”