Love Inspired Historical April 2014 Bundle: The Husband Campaign\The Preacher's Bride Claim\The Soldier's Secrets\Wyoming Promises (91 page)

Ike's slack expression startled him. “That's neither here nor there, now, is it, gentlemen? The fact is, I offer a service, and she had need of it. It's time to pay the piper.”

Bridger braced his feet, hands balled into fists in anticipation of Toby's move. “I won't do it, Ike. Not...not a woman alone.”

Tyler leaned all the way back, his chair clapping against the wall, and laughed long and low. “Did you hear that, Toby? The kid thinks he's in charge of picking his clients. Oh, you'll do it, Jamison.”

“And what if I don't?”

Ike flew to his feet, gun drawn, chair wobbling in his sudden wake. “You owe me. You've been on my payroll a month now. Folks in these parts handed their hard-earned cash over to you, with your unforgettable face. If worse comes to worst, I'll take my lumps and drag you with me. I'll testify you took money on your own accord, after I decided to shut down the business.”

Bridger clenched his jaw. “I'll take my chances.”

Ike never blinked. “If it were only you, I'd believe that. But that brother of yours gives me an advantage, you see. He'd never get along without you, and he'd never survive in the asylum those folks up the trail fondly suggested to you before you hightailed it out of there.”

“He didn't do anything,” Bridger ground out.

Ike waved him off. “I don't recollect saying he had. Only that popular opinion didn't agree with you.”

“Besides, he's family,” Toby chimed in. “You'd hate to see anything happen to him.”

“Or to Lola. If anyone hears so much as a whisper about your sudden attack of conscience, I may forget our prior relationship completely.” Ike's eyes glittered with warning.

The muscles in his jaw twitched. Bridger weighed his options in the balance and forced a long, slow breath. His mind spun with responsibilities to Frank and Lola. His promises to Jake and Miss Grace to see justice and his determination to right all the wrong he'd caused pressed over him.

It also left him out of options.

Chapter Twenty-Two

B
ridger's horse neighed and skittered, waiting in the stand of trees with about as much patience as he felt. Getting away from Ike and the others had proved more difficult than usual today. He couldn't be certain, but it likely wasn't by accident. How much did they suspect?

He hadn't slept, or eaten, or done much of anything except pace the floor and ride the perimeter of town trying to clear his mind and figure a way out of the mess. He hoped Jake could provide a different point of view because he'd wasted twenty-four hours with no ideas. Lola had to be on the books by Saturday.

A big horse trotted along the creek and Bridger slunk into the tree line until Jake came into view. “Bridger? You there?”

He stepped out of the scrub and threw the satchel in a direct hit to the marshal's chest. “I'm out.”

Jake almost missed the catch in his surprise. “What do you mean? We're this close and you're bailing now? What happened?”

“He wants to hit Lola, start collecting from her.”

Jake flung the satchel over his shoulder and rubbed his beefy hands together. Moonlight reflected from his triumphant grin, giving him the look of some ghoulish avenger. “That's perfect!”

“What are you talking about? I can't do that!”

“You're already collecting from other folks. And she could be the break we need,” Jake insisted.

“She trusts me now, and if I do this—”

“We'll tell her, spell it all out.” Jake pulled his notebook and jotted something down with the tiny pencil held in its loop. “From everything I've seen, Lola could be the perfect witness.”

Bridger jammed fists into his coat pockets and paced. “What if he hurts her? I couldn't live with that.”

Jake shook his head. “He's smitten with her. He won't do that.”

Bridger halted and drove his finger into the lawman's chest, pressing the hard metal badge hidden beneath his coat. “You didn't see him. I don't know what changed things, but there wasn't one glimmer of feeling in his eyes when he told me to get her on the books. He said he'd hurt her if she ever found out it wasn't as much my idea as his.”

Jake took a step back. “He threatened Frank, too, didn't he?”

Bridger nodded. “If it were only me, I'd find a way. You understand that, right? But Frank is all I have, and I need to get out now to protect him. Quiver Creek is on its own.”

“I don't believe you have it in you to walk away,” Jake said, his voice hard and tight.

Bridger rubbed a hand along his scar. Between little sleep and worry, his whole head throbbed. “I'm tired of hurting people, and I need out before Ike expects me to do more than intimidate and throw a few punches. I hoped to keep the problem from my doorstep, but now I'm thinking I need to find a new doorstep.”

Jake bit his lip. “She'd at least have a measure of protection if it came from you. You leave, there's no telling which of his goons Ike will send to collect from her.”

He pictured Toby's greasy smirk, and a bitter taste sickened him at the intimidation tactics he might choose to use against Lola. And Toby probably held more respect for women than all of the other men combined. How could he leave Lola to face them alone? He huffed. How could he endanger his own brother on her behalf?

“So we tell her and I take her and Frank away from here.”

“Whoa, now!” Jake said. “That would tip our hand and we'd lose everything we gained in this investigation.”

“So?”

Jake ran a hand over his face, the bristling of his stubble mingling with the rustling leaves. “He's not going to let her go that easily, Bridger. He'd likely come after the three of you, anyway, and you'd lose the protection of the town.”

Bridger slumped. He'd exhausted his mind racing through all these scenarios already but had hoped...and prayed...that the marshal held the key to make them workable. If the Lord took any interest in the lives He'd given folks, it provided the only hope he could latch on to. “So what do we do?”

“We tell Lola. Quietly, mind you, and let her decide. I see her as the one person in Quiver Creek strong enough to stand against Ike Tyler.”

Bridger pushed hair from his forehead and crushed the brim of his hat in the other hand. “But what if she's not?”

“Once other businessmen realize a woman is being pressured, it might make them willing to come forward, band together,” Jake suggested.

“Don't you think they could've done that already if they were willing?”

“Listen, Bridger. My chance to keep this quiet is about up. Tyler keeps close tabs on this town, and if he doesn't suspect me yet, he soon will.”

Bridger replaced the hat on his head, rocking it back and forth to a proper tilt. “So let him. The town would at least be rid of him.”

“What about people in those other towns?” Jake stepped closer, his voice low in the shadows. “What about seeing justice for all the people Ike Tyler has hurt and robbed in the name of gaining power and wealth? Good people who tried to get where we are in this case when Ike and his associates killed them? A friend of mine died here, pulling evidence. Mr. Martin was his contact person. I suspect Pete McKenna and Cecil Anthony got too close, as well.”

Bridger groaned. The marshal didn't fight fair. As bad as he wanted to, he'd never be able to face himself in the mirror if he didn't do all he could to put Ike behind bars, where he belonged. And Marshal Anderson knew it.

Bridger conceded with a grim nod. “This plan of yours sounds like an awful lot of wishing and hoping to me, and not much else.”

“That's where my faith comes into play.” Jake had the audacity to smile with a look of victory. “The only way to win this battle is to fight on our knees.”

* * *

Bridger slumped against a tree and rubbed his head in both hands. “I only have to convince her to give me the money? Do you have any idea what this will do to her, coming from me?” Not to mention what it would do to him delivering the terms of payment.

“I promise you, I'll be there within the hour to explain everything,” Jake said. “But if we go in together, someone could see us. If I go first and she doesn't agree to help, you go back to Tyler empty-handed. It's got to be this way.”

Bridger knew it made more sense than any other idea they'd kicked around. It didn't mean he had to like it.

Jake jotted some notes. “Be convincing, Bridger. I'll take Grace along and tell her and Lola both what's going on. If you and I can keep from crossing paths, Ike may not put it together right away, and that gives us a little time.”

“Unless he already suspects you. Toby's barely lost sight of my backside since Ike told me to collect from Lola, Jake. I'm telling you, I don't like this.”

Jake grinned, a little madness gleaming in his eyes. “All the more reason to conclude this case soonest.”

Bridger nodded and rubbed his neck, muscles stiff as an oak board. “All right.”

Jake climbed into the saddle, settling with a creak. “This isn't the end for you with Lola. She'll forgive you once she realizes why you're doing this.”

“I hope so.”

“Sounds like you could use some faith,” Jake said. “You have until tomorrow to figure it out. I'll be at her place by eight o'clock. You be gone by seven.”

Bridger threw a pebble into the dark ripples at the river's edge. “I know what needs done. I just want this whole mess behind me.”

Jake trotted away from the stand of trees on his horse, leaving Bridger at the water's edge. Having a plan of action helped but gave him no certainty as to the outcome. The entire case could fall apart at his feet.

“Lord,” he prayed, “it shames me to come to You now that I've made such a mess of things. Forgive me. I see where so much of this could've been prevented had I asked Your guidance from the start. But this is the tangle I'm in. I understand there are consequences for the way I've been living, turning my back on Your love and wisdom, and I'll accept whatever You, in Your mercy, send my way. But, Lord, let it fall on me. Don't punish Frank for my mistakes, and keep Lola safe. And please, Jesus, let this work.”

He opened his eyes, the darkness of the day filling in every nook and cranny of the woods around him. The scent of grass and rush of water caught on the evening breeze. He'd never been good at those big, fancy prayers he'd heard growing up in church, and he'd been long out of practice before coming to Quiver Creek. But in spite of all that, his breath came easier and his shoulders felt lighter than they had in years.

He still wasn't sure how to accomplish what needed done, but his heart swelled with confidence the Lord would show him what to do and say when the moment arrived. It wasn't the instant response he might have preferred, but he accepted it.

He stood and brushed dew that dampened the ground by the river off his pants. Turning in early would give him the energy he needed to face tomorrow. Sleep wouldn't come easy, but after staying awake through last night, he didn't think worry would be enough to deter him from some rest.

Beefy hands grabbed his shoulders as he pushed a weary boot into the stirrup, dragging him to the dirt with a thud. The jolt knocked breath from him, and he struggled to his elbows. He kicked into the darkness, and he was rewarded with a curse and punished with a slug to the face. He fell, but brawny fists pulled him upright by the collar.

Bridger planted his feet and barreled forward. He landed a punch to the side of his attacker before strong arms hauled him back. His upper arms pinned, he kicked again with his feet, but the angle, exhaustion and surprise of the attack made him ineffective. A solid fist crashed against his ribs twice and slashed against his face. Hat long gone, the attacker twisted Bridger's hair at the crown and pulled, jerking his chin to face Toby's toothy grin.

“You fight pretty good for a scrawny runt, boy.” A knife glittered in Toby's fist, edge tracing along the path of the scar Bridger had borne since boyhood. “But I've had enough fun for one evening.”

Arms like logs squeezed his ribs and jostled him enough to crack his teeth. A raspy voice buzzed behind his head. “This is crazy, Toby. Either we need him or we don't, but—”

“This is what Ike ordered. We're all too deep not to stick with him at this point. Besides, we're not to kill him.” Toby's eyes glittered. “This is just a friendly little reminder from the boss, Jamison. He thought you might need a bit more convincing before you went to visit Miss Fancy-Britches.”

The cool blade rested against Bridger's chin and grazed his neck. He struggled to control his breath and firm his footing.

“I could extend this line for you. Slice you right down the middle. Or maybe Jim here could snap your neck, quick and easylike. More humane that way,” Toby said.

“Like those others,” Jim said.

“Shut up!” Toby moved the knife behind Bridger's ear, and his tight grasp slackened. “The boss managed to run the game this long. You want to cross him, you ain't the only man here can snap a neck. You got that, Jim?” The trees vibrated with Toby's roar.

The man behind him shifted. His hold against Bridger tightened as Toby focused him.

“You put that lady undertaker on notice and she pays up, you won't have to worry about anything else. If you don't—” Toby pushed the knife tip against Bridger's chest “—you'll never rest again, until it's permanent. Unless, of course, we take it out on that brother of yours.”

Bridger struggled, his arm breaking free. He shoved Toby's wrist and knocked the knife but gained two clouts to his sore ribs and a fierce cuff to his head that dimmed his vision. “I said I'd do it, didn't I?”

Toby stepped back. He nodded and the men loosed him. “Then I suggest you practice your delivery. Because if you don't convince that woman a little better than you did the boss, we'll be back.”

Bridger tried to draw a deep breath. Pain sliced across his ribs like a match on flint. But he stood straight, determined not to give Ike's men the satisfaction of grabbing his side. “I know my job.”

Jim brought the knife to Toby, who held it up, then made a show of returning it to its sheath. “So long as you and the boss have an understanding you'll stick to,” Toby said. He dipped his head, backing away as the others slipped out through the trees. With a cold, narrow smile, he joined them, escaping into the dark.

Bridger leaned over, hand pressed to his side. His breath crept painfully over damaged ribs. Nothing broken, only bruised.

One thought came as he fought his hazy vision and shuffled to his horse.

He hadn't expected an audible response to his prayer. Especially not one delivered by Toby.

* * *

Lola tucked stockinged feet beneath her on Mother's rocking chair and settled into the cushions with a favorite book. While the days had warmed considerably into May, evenings still made a fire necessary. She enjoyed the coziness of the house, quiet after a busy week.

A knock drew her from the story with a start. She waited, listening for another to tell her which door to answer. Ah! A visitor!

She scrambled to the door, wondering what might have Grace out so late. No one else from town came to mind, especially since she'd cleared the air with Ike.

She cracked the door open. Bridger paced on her porch in the shadows. It brought to memory the night they'd met, but now the thought brought a small smile. How wrong she'd been to judge him on appearance alone. “It's rather late to start working in the woodshop tonight, isn't it?” she teased.

His feet shifted and he glanced about. “I know it's not exactly proper, Lola, but can I come in?”

She blinked, her smile falling flat. His tone sounded strange, low and tight. The door wobbled from her grasp and opened wider. “All right. Sure, come in.”