us hollow. It’s only with time and faith that we can come away from grief stronger and, at the same time, with greater reliance on God.”
Lola shivered in the morning mountain shadows as Pastor Evans gave the eulogy for Pete McKenna. She stretched her arm around Grace, who stood shrouded in black with a heavy veil to hide her tears. Had it been only six months ago their positions had been reversed when Papa died?
Lola squeezed Grace’s shoulders in support as a soft wail broke from under the black veil, and she scanned the crowd standing silently around the gaping hole in the ground. The Rigger family looked almost as sorrowful as Grace. They lived farther up the pass and had asked for Sheriff McKenna’s help in tracking the mountain lion bent on killing off their herd. Mrs. Rigger squeezed her husband’s hand and gathered their two little girls close, no doubt thinking how easily it could have been her husband’s body that man had found.
Lola rocked Grace as Pastor Evans guided those in attendance in the 23rd Psalm. Her eyes settled on that same man in question. He stood behind Ike, shovel in hand and hat pulled low. But she recognized the deep, angry scar that crossed his face.
Her heart jumped as his gaze locked on her, surprising her with a warmth she’d missed at their first meeting. But she didn’t turn away. Let him know she recognized him. She hadn’t expected him to still be in town, let alone be here as they buried Pete, but she was glad to see him. It would make the U.S. marshal’s job that much easier when he arrived.
She had sent a request early the very next morning after Pete had been brought to her door. She was sure the marshal would have questions for him when he arrived. She’d like to ask a few of her own, but patience reigned. The law would prevail.
Lola gave Grace a parting hug and kissed her cheek with a promise to visit soon. Her heart ached to watch her friend leave with Pastor Evans to deliver her home.
She waited for the crowd to clear before turning to Ike and his men. Ike Tyler had been especially helpful in the months since her father’s death. For as much as Papa had disapproved of their courtship, Ike had proved himself a good friend even after she ended that part of their relationship over a year ago. Papa didn’t trust him but hadn’t refused her from seeing him. He didn’t push the cut deeper by reminding her of his reservations when she’d found Ike kissing Mattie, either. After she broke their engagement, Ike had bought the saloon, and she realized how very wrong she had been about him.
Ike had assured her it all meant nothing, insisting it was “only part of business.” While wisdom prevailed, it didn’t help that Ike Tyler was a handsome cut of a man and had done everything in his power to help her in her grief.
She tilted her head to see his hazel eyes peering at her. His long fingers stretched out as if to grasp her arm, but he caught himself and held back with a soft smile. “Anything more you need?”
“No, thanks, Ike. I’ll gather up the flowers to lay across the grave when you’re finished and place the cross.” She wiped a tear that rolled unbidden down her cheek. “I wish there were more I could do for Grace, that’s all.”
Ike took her hand with a gentle squeeze. “I know you do. You will, in time. Why don’t you let my men tidy up when they’re finished so you can join her now at the church?”
She caught his hopeful smile. He always found a way to give her what he thought she needed most. “You’ve done so much already, Ike. I don’t want to take advantage.”
“Nonsense.” A smile touched his narrow lips before he set his men to task with a nod. “I’ve hired an extra man. They’ll have things finished in no time.”
She watched the men shovel dirt back into the hole they’d dug earlier that morning. The man with the scar was lean and about a head shorter than the men he worked with, but he carried himself with a strength his size belied. Dark sinewy arms poked out from long sleeves he had rolled to his elbows. “What do you know about your new hire?”
“Not all that much—you know how it is. His name’s Bridger Jamison. He’s new in town and needed work. That’s about it.”
A breeze caught spring leaves on the trees nearby, brushing her ears with their gentle music. “He’s the one that brought Pete in,” she said. Her voice sounded hard and flat, revealing more than she’d intended.
“He did mention something about that. I’ll keep an eye on him, Lola. You don’t have anything to worry about.” Ike smiled, drawing her from the shadows and into the sunlight closer to the church.
“I’m not worried.” Well, she didn’t want to be worried, anyway. “The U.S. Marshals Office will be sending someone to check his story very soon.”
Ike stopped. “Why is that?”
“Because I sent a telegraph. We have no sheriff now, and with the trouble we’ve been having here, I thought someone ought to check into it.” Into the stranger with the scar.
A long huff of air came from Ike’s tight lips. “I wish you’d asked me first, Lola. We don’t need any trouble stirred up with a stranger nosing around town.”
Fire rose in her chest. “A man died, Ike. The sheriff. We can’t handle this ourselves.”
“Do you really reckon the man would have gone to the trouble of bringing him in and getting the body to an undertaker if he’d had anything to do with his death?”
Lola glanced sideways at the men working. It did sound a little far-fetched, she supposed.
“But what if he did?” She pulled away and crossed her arms around her waist.
Ike stepped away, taking a look at his workers. He clenched and unclenched his fingers, a long habit she recognized. “Then it’s good I hired him. A job will hold him in town.” He faced her with a smile. “But you need to check before you go off trying to handle these things on your own. That’s what I’m here for.”
She sighed. Maybe it was foolish to wire for a U.S. marshal to come all the way out here to investigate without consulting anyone first. Maybe the hour and the man’s appearance and the memory of her father’s death had made her too skittish. “Well, it’s done now. I guess I wanted to make sure there was someone looking out for this town. Especially now that Pete’s gone.”
Silence surrounded them as the last of the mourners left the cemetery. “My men and I can do that, like we helped Sheriff McKenna before. Once that U.S. marshal clears out, they’ll hold an election. Maybe I’ll run for sheriff myself. Something nice and respectable like your pa would have liked from the start.”
Lola winced. Papa wouldn’t have approved of Ike even if he’d been governor of the territory.
“I’ll talk to the marshal when he arrives in town. Maybe if I explain things, he won’t need to waste any more time than getting here will cost him.”
Ike drew closer, his head bowed toward her. “You always were overcautious, Lola. But your beauty made up for it.”
She stepped away, staring him in the eye. “It’s good you realized my downfalls before we made it to the altar, then.” Her voice rose, clipped and sharp.
She caught Bridger Jamison’s form in the corner of her eye. He punched his shovel into the dirt, arms crossed loosely over the end of the handle, brown eyes glittering in the moving shadows caused by the
