mind, Ike. It’s just been a hard few days. Forgive my sharpness. I have a lot on my mind.”
“Any help I can offer? Say the word,” Ike said, his voice soft and over-warm.
Lola squared her shoulders. “Not unless you know a good woodworker. I used the last coffin Papa...Papa made, for Pete.”
“You know, it just so happens, I do know a man. I can’t vouch for his skill, but he says he does like to build things with wood.”
Lola returned his smile. If anyone would know the skills of a new man in town, it would be Ike. She warmed. “That would be wonderful! If you introduce us, I could make the arrangements.”
“Whenever you like, Lola. I know where he lives. You can stop by anytime and I’ll be glad to make the acquaintances.”
“Stop by? Where?”
Ike gave the grin he used when he thought he had the upper hand. The one she hadn’t recognized as a little frightening until after they’d parted company. “In a room at my boardinghouse. It’s Bridger Jamison, my new man.”
Chapter Three
Frank was due back any moment. Overdue. Bridger didn’t like the idea of his brother being confined upstairs, but he’d have to restrict his roaming to those early-morning hours before the town started to stir after this.
Bridger stood at the door of Ike’s private quarters. Evening sun crept low through the far windows, but the saloon itself sat empty. He peered into the tree line behind the boardinghouse, praying for a shadow.
With folks attending the funeral today, Frank had waited until midmorning to make his escape. The risk he’d be caught rambling around town increased each time he wandered the back alleys. Bridger hoped Frank paid attention to their grandfather’s watch. It ought to be good for something. He’d been sorely tempted to sell it several times over the years, but he couldn’t do that to Frank. Something about the soft whir spoke of both sturdiness and elegance, and brought comfort to his brother. Not to mention the fact that even when Pa came in liquored and mean and turned the house inside out for funds to buy more, Mama had managed to hang on to it. That should count for something.
Bridger knocked on the open door of Ike’s office. “Mattie said you wanted to see me, Mr. Tyler. What can I do for you?”
“Come in, Bridger.” Ike motioned him to a curved-back chair. Even in the confines of this small room, his boss managed to convey a sense of wealth and splendor in the green velvet chairs and tiny mahogany table. He might live behind a saloon, but Ike Tyler had a taste for fine things and apparently had the means and eye to acquire them. A painting Bridger could tell would not come cheap hung on the wall over the fireplace.
“I have a job for you,” his boss said once he settled into the plush chair. “Supplies for the hotel have come in, and I want you to pick them up. I’ll have a wagon ready tomorrow, and I’ll send Toby along to help load. Think you can handle that?”
Bridger nodded, slowly removing his hat. He brushed his hair back and forward again. “Where we headed?”
“Wilder Springs, next town up the pass. Railroad runs through it, delivered the boards yesterday.” Bridger watched him pull an envelope from his suit coat and feather the bills inside.
“I’ll give you the payment tonight so you can get an early start. I tend to rise later in the day due to the nature of my business.” Ike grinned.
Bridger twirled his hat by its brim. “Toby knows how to get there?”
“Sure. But listen,” Ike said, sliding to the edge of his seat. “The mill owner there, he’s got himself a poor reputation. If he wasn’t the only big-outfit lumberman in the area, he’d be run out of business, I’m sure.”
Bridger adjusted his hat before taking the wadded envelope. He tucked it inside the hidden pocket of his duster. He’d never been one for theatrics. But he could see in Ike Tyler’s eyes how he thrived on it. “So you’re expecting trouble?”
Ike stood and smiled. “Right to the point, that’s it,” he said, almost to himself. “It’s likely he’ll dispute the payment, you being a new face and all. You be sure to get everything on the list in that envelope with the money you’ve been given.”
“You want me to notify their lawman when we arrive, ask him to tag along?”
“No sense in that. He’s just an old man looking to live out his days in a quiet town, and mostly it stays that way. My men give him a hand with that sometimes, so having Toby with you should help. You make certain the man satisfies our agreement. If he complains too much, remind him that his own wife and their pretty young daughter witnessed the deal, you got that?”
“Sure thing, boss.” Bridger watched through the window as a lumbering form that could only be Frank skulked into the boardinghouse. He coughed to cover his distraction. “Anything else?”
“Actually, I have another job for you, if you’re interested. You said you like carpentry, right? Woodwork?”
Bridger nodded. “Yes, sir.”
“Miss Martin needs some coffins. She told me yesterday she used the last her pa had made before he passed. She needs a few on hand, you see.” Ike pulled a cigar from the box on the stand next to him, offering one.
Bridger shook his head. “Coffins, Mr. Tyler?”
“Right. Her pa handled all aspects of the business, you know? Lola helped prepare the bodies and made it nice for the families and such, but...”
“But she can’t build the caskets,” Bridger supplied.
“Yes. She wants to speak with you herself—independent woman that way. I told her I’d introduce you, but I wanted to ask you myself, as well.”
“Why’s that?”
“Some men wouldn’t take kindly to working for a woman.”
“If the pay is fair, I have no problem with that. Her money will spend as well as a man’s, I reckon.”
“I hoped you’d think that way. You can work out the particulars with her, but I still want you working for me, you understand. This would be extra, on your own time.”
Bridger rubbed his chin and smiled. “I appreciate that. No reason why I can’t handle both. I need the money.” He glanced around the sitting area. His feet sank into the plush carpet, its rich colors in stark contrast to his worn boots.
“So I gathered,” Ike said. His eyes took on an almost predatory gleam for an instant, and Bridger felt the man’s gaze pass through him.
He hoped Frank had tucked himself in their room without anyone the wiser.
Ike took a long draw on his cigar, puffing rings of smoke into the air. “One other thing—”
Bridger jerked to his feet. “Yes, sir?”
Ike took another drag on his cigar. “I’d consider it a personal favor if you’d keep an eye on Miss Martin—Lola. I’d feel better knowing
