Wyoming Promises. Kerri Mountain

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СКАЧАТЬ Martin?” Bridger looked out the window and across the roofs of the businesses next door. “What happened?”

      “Nothin’, I promise! She didn’t even see me.” Frank always managed to tell the story through his protests.

      “Why would she? You weren’t anywhere near her, right?”

      “But I had to help the cat and that’s all, Bridger. I didn’t mean to fall and crash her door.” His brother looked at him with a curious mix of determination, fear and truth.

      “‘Crash her door’? Hard? Did she hear you?”

      “She didn’t leave the porch or nothin’. I ran away quick. I know you said—”

      “Calm down, Frank.” He stood and settled his brother with a hand to his shoulder, his thoughts flying like a racehorse. “She probably didn’t even hear you.”

      “Yes, she did! I heard her tell the other pretty lady.”

      Bridger groaned. “If you’re close enough to hear, you’re too close, Frank!” His anger echoed against the bare walls, and he forced his tone to ease.

      “I’m sorry, Bridger. Don’t be mad. I know what you said. It was dumb. Dumb, dumb, dumb.”

      Bridger slumped to the bed next to his brother and wrapped an arm around his broad shoulders, swaying a little until his mind cleared and Frank’s breathing returned to normal.

      “I’m sorry, too, Frank. I didn’t mean to yell. It’s been kind of a long day for me. I’m not really mad.” He stood, looked at his brother’s repentant face and grinned. Frank would never intentionally frighten anyone or cause trouble. “Listen, I’m making a mountain out of a molehill. Miss Martin didn’t see you, right?”

      Frank nodded. Bridger breathed a sigh of relief.

      “Good. And I’m to go and talk with her this evening, anyway. I’ll see if she says anything about today. It’s probably slipped her mind already. In any case, she wouldn’t know it was you. But you have to promise me, Frank. You have to promise you’ll stay away from the busy part of town. And no going near people’s houses, all right?”

      “All right.” Frank nodded with vigor, eyes gleaming with promise.

      Bridger sat down again and bumped shoulders with Frank. “It will be all right. We scary-looking guys have to watch out for each other, that’s all.”

      * * *

      Lola started at the faint knock outside her front door. Another late-night guest? She marked the book she read, smoothed her hair into place and wound her way through the empty preparation room. Blue sky peeked through the window, but muted gray crept over the buildings as the sun sank below the mountains.

      With a deep breath, she opened the door. “Mr. Jamison?”

      “Bridger, ma’am.” Though his stance took full advantage of what height he had, his eyes drooped with fatigue. “I hoped it wouldn’t be too late to take a look at your father’s workshop. I’d like to find plans and see what supplies are on hand. Then, if I think I can do the job, I’ll start next week, if that’s agreeable to you.”

      Tension across her shoulders eased at his businesslike tone. “That sounds fair...Bridger. Come in and I’ll get the key.”

      His weary eyes scanned the room over her shoulder, then glanced along the street behind him. “With all due respect, ma’am, I think it’s best I meet you around back at the shed.”

      Whether the nature of the room behind her or concern for her reputation prompted him, Lola appreciated his propriety.

      Bridger’s shadowed form rounded the corner as she stepped onto the narrow porch. The brilliant sunset of a clear day lent a golden glow to the last rays that clung in spots around them, reluctant to make a complete escape. It burnished the rim of his hat, highlighted the angry scar across his face, lit his eyes with a warm glow.

      Lola forced her attention to her trembling hand. She jammed the key into the lock. Bridger Jamison brought far more questions than she had answers.

      “The U.S. marshal should arrive in a few days.” The lock sprang open and heat rushed to her cheeks as she faced the man.

      Bridger dipped his head with a quirked smile. “Be glad to see him myself, ma’am. I’m anxious to clear any poor notions of my character.”

      How many times had her father cautioned her about thinking out loud? “I apologize for the insinuation. You did a good thing, finding Pete and bringing him in like you did. I’ve just learned to be leery of strangers.”

      His head tipped back, eyes blending with the growing darkness. “Mr. Tyler told me some of what you’ve been through this past while, and I’m sorry for your loss. It behooves you to be wary of scary-looking fellows like me.” He smiled and reached for the latch.

      Lola bit her lip. She’d judged this man on circumstance and outward appearance, and her conscience pricked her. Yet not enough to prompt a full change of heart. Who was this man and what brought him to Quiver Creek? Maybe Grace was right. Having him in her employ would give her the opportunity to learn more about him—for better or for worse.

      His voice interrupted her thoughts. “Mind if I light the lantern, ma’am?”

      “Go ahead. The one Papa used should be inside the door.” She watched him trim the wick by feel alone and light it to a comforting glow within minutes.

      “Anything you prefer I not touch in here?” he asked, keeping his lean back to her. He held the lantern at shoulder height and peered around the long room.

      She wrapped her shawl tighter, looking to the gold-tinged peaks and stars winking in the darkening sky. The view failed to lure away memories brought on by the musty warm scent of wood shavings trickling through the doorway. Blinking tears from her eyes, she shook her head. “To tell you the truth, I haven’t a clue what’s in there. I haven’t opened the door since my father died.” She drew a snuffled breath. “You’re welcome to use whatever you find. I appreciate you considering the job.”

      His warm hand grasped her forearm as she turned to go. The warmth of his calloused fingers clashed with the cool, damp night, and she shivered. Or perhaps the tenderness in his gaze caused the tremor. She bit the inside of her cheek to forge away fresh tears.

      “I can do this another time, ma’am. I forget how quickly darkness settles here in the mountains. This might be easier by daylight.”

      She knew by his tone he spoke to her emotions, not to what suited him. “No, you should have time for a quick look around before the lantern won’t be enough. Papa kept his notes in a box at the far end.” She gestured to the narrow door. “You’re welcome to take those along to study. They should give you the details you need as far as supplies and such. I’ll leave you to your search.”

      * * *

      Bridger held the lantern high, its light wobbling against dusty tan walls and glimmering tools. Even in the dimness, he saw two things: Lola’s father kept his work space neat, and he’d done more than fashion coffins. There were a large variety of tools, some old but well cared for, others with hardly a scratch to them.

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