Page 87 of Wyoming Promises

Ike’s dark expression eased. “I felt everything for you, Lola. Everything I did was only to prove how much I cared. Your father thought me a slacker, I started a business. He didn’t approve of saloon-keeping, I planned for a hotel. He found me weak, I proved myself by controlling this town and businesses throughout the territory, including his. It was never enough.”

“So you killed him,” Bridger said.

Tears filled her eyes and she rose to her feet. “I sent you away because you created a mockery of me with Mattie! Papa didn’t need to say a thing.”

“He would’ve forced your hand eventually. Don’t you see? He was willing to take a loan from me—at prime interest—for the means to send you away. I wanted you to have the chance you desired, because you’d still come back to me. I’d have given you everything, but you threw it all away.”

Lola struggled for breath in the suddenly heavy air. “I don’t understand why Papa would come to you.”

Ike laughed and she saw Bridger shift his stance. “You don’t think a bank around here would grant a loan for a lady to become a doctor, do you?”

She shivered. Papa died trying to see the dream she hardly dared to speak come true. Anger poured out in tears across her face. Bridger’s rough fingers grazed her hand.

Ike waved his gun. “Get away from her! A woman this fine shouldn’t be sullied by the likes of you.”

Grace bit back a gasp, breathing in ragged puffs.

Bridger glanced her way. “That’s not what it will look like when the town discovers she let me in this time of night.”

Ike stroked his mustache, seeming to consider. “See, that’s what I like about you, Bridger. Always thinking ahead. You could’ve gone far in my outfit.”

He consulted his pocket watch. Lola flashed a glance to Bridger in time to catch a quick wink. Thank You, Lord, for sending him. Whatever happens...

Bridger lowered his head with a resigned slouch. His voice held a matching tone. “Take me to Martin’s woodshop. It wouldn’t be unusual for me to work late there, especially when Lola has need of coffins.”

Ike’s eyes gleamed with madness. “That’s good. That’s very good.”

He motioned Bridger ahead, pressing the smooth barrel tip into his shoulder. Ike swept his left hand with fake gentility. “If you’ll allow me to escort you, ladies, I’ll take care of Mr. Jamison first.”

Grace began crying in earnest but managed to gain her feet when Lola tugged her arm.

“Now, now,” Ike said, his voice eerily soothing, “business before pleasure, you understand. I promise we’ll return here before your time comes, ma’am. That should be sufficient to protect your stellar reputations in this town.”

Lola grabbed a lantern as they followed Bridger past the fireplace and rocker where she’d rested with such contentment only hours ago. She spared a look at the front door, gauging her chance at escape. But with Grace’s contractions coming roughly ten minutes apart and a crazy man pointing a gun into Bridger’s lean back, she couldn’t risk it.

Prayers rolled from her tongue, more a pleading notion than organized thought, but she knew the Lord heard and understood all the same. Grace’s soft additions gave consolation.

“Shut up!” Ike raised the gun to the base of Bridger’s head. “You shut up right now or I’ll not care what folks say about you and shoot him here.”

Bridger froze, hand at the back door. “Maybe those prayers are for you, Ike. Looks to me like you could use some.”

Ike cuffed the back of Bridger’s head with a sharp crack of the pistol butt. Bridger wobbled but managed to brace against the doorjamb before reaching his knees.

Fury shook Ike’s frame. “Shut up, I said! Praying for me would be completely insane.”

Ike swung the gun toward Lola and she gasped, fingers cramping against Grace’s tight hold. He nudged Bridger with an elbow at his back. “Bring the key.”

Lola tugged it from the hook and wrapped her arm around Grace as they shuffled through the door, lantern glowing in her free hand.

The night sky held no moon, making it difficult to see Bridger beyond Ike’s taller, broader shadow. He staggered a bit on the steps, and Lola realized what that knock to the head had cost him. But he managed a fairly steady gait across the narrow yard, damp with evening dew.

“Bridge!”

Frank’s voice called from the darkness at the corner of her house. If he’d been released, wouldn’t Jake be close by, as well?

She paused at the rail, pulling Grace tight to her side. Her heart pounded like thunder in her ears until she could barely decipher the voices around her.