LITMIR.BIZ

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bottle smashed at his feet. He stepped back as a well-dressed man tossed a grubby drunk out the doors. The man dusted his hands together and smiled broadly. “Welcome to Ike’s Tavern. You look like you just crawled from under a stampede, if you don’t mind my saying so, stranger. Plenty here to ease your troubles.”

      Plenty to cause them, too, Bridger thought. “If you serve food and have an empty room, it would go a long way. And who do I see about the help-wanted sign out there?”

      “That’d be me,” the man said, his voice rising above the crowd and music. He motioned Bridger to a small table in a back corner. “Let’s start with a name, stranger. I’m Ike Tyler.”

      “Bridger Jamison.” He took a seat by the wall, keeping a clear view of the door and the rest of the room. “What kind of help are you looking for?”

      Tyler pushed his hat back on his head and smoothed his string tie and loose suit coat before taking the seat opposite him. “I like that, a man who keeps his eyes and options open, prepared. Right to the point, too.” Ike motioned a blonde woman with plenty to entice a man over to their table. “Get my friend here a drink.”

      “Looks to me like he could use more than just a whiskey, Ike.” The woman trailed long red fingernails over his shoulder in a way that suggested everything she intended.

      “Food, ma’am. I’m hungry enough I could eat a bear down to the bone.” He pushed a grin to his face, feeling the pull of his scar. “Course, I’d settle for a good steak and a baked potato.”

      The woman looked at Ike, who nodded. She trailed her painted nail over his lip, along his scar and around his ear into the hair against his neck. “My, you are a handsome one. I suppose that’s a good place to start, but you need anything else, sugar, you come see Mattie first, won’t you?” She adjusted her corset in front of Ike and turned with a wink. “One steak and potato, coming up.”

      Ike watched her work through the crowd with a wolfish smile. “Lots of benefits, working in a place like this.”

      Bridger adjusted his hat and leaned forward, hoping the man didn’t hear his stomach rumbling. But the tinny piano and boisterous patrons drowned most of a man’s thoughts, along with everything else. “I’m more interested in the kind of work I’d be doing, Mr. Tyler.”

      “Hmm...respectful, too,” Ike said, almost to himself. “Nice town, here, Quiver Creek. Quiet, growing...new businesses coming in. I have several interests. I’m looking for someone strong, not afraid of hard work, willing to do what needs done, loyal...”

      “If you’re hiring for personality, sir, I’d fit that bill. But what skills are you looking for?” Bridger stifled the urge to yawn, even in the hubbub of the room.

      Ike lit a long, thin cigar and added his own puff of smoke to the already cloudy air. “What skills do you have to offer, Mr. Jamison?”

      “I’ve done a lot of different jobs. But I suppose you could say my pick is woodwork, construction, building things.”

      “Well, now, it just so happens I’m planning to build a hotel right here in town. Quiver Creek finds itself between the main railroad line and a hot-springs resort being built further up the pass. We’re getting a lot of visitors in town. Not all of them are suitably impressed with our present accommodations, you see. We need something grand, a hotel reminiscent of those back East. I’m the man with the vision—and financial wherewithal—to build it.” He looked around the room with its maroon wallpaper and barely faded gilding and then back to Bridger with a grin around his cigar. “I need more than someone who’s good with a hammer, though. I need a man willing to do all kinds of odd jobs, run some errands, some out-of-town deliveries, whatever comes up.”

      “What’s the job pay?” It sounded crass, even to his own ears, but his plans required more than a dollar a day and all you could eat. Bridger rubbed his fingers against the smooth wood of the table, wondering if the hunger would hold off his exhaustion.

      If the question offended Ike Tyler, nary a blink told it. “I treat my men well. Room at the boardinghouse next door, meals here, good wages—” his voice trailed as Mattie came up behind him, rubbing her free hand across his back “—and plenty of added benefits.”

      Bridger thanked the woman for the plate and she sauntered off with a wink as Ike swatted her bottom. He didn’t bother with niceties but dug into the thick steak and steamy potato. “Don’t get me wrong, I’ll be grateful for the soft bed tonight, but it doesn’t seem like a real restful spot.”

      Ike smiled. “Might be a room in the new hotel once it’s completed.” He puffed on his cigar, eyes glittering. “I like the looks of you, Bridger Jamison. It’s not bragging to tell you, you’ll not find a better boss in town, maybe not in the territory. Ask my men. You do well with the jobs I give you, and I’ll see about throwing more work your way. Ones with greater pay more befitting a man with your needs.”

      Bridger focused on his plate—one cleaner than he’d have expected in such a place—and worked a bluff. “Don’t need anything but a quiet place to stay and work to earn my keep, Mr. Tyler.” He chewed another tender bite of meat. “When can I start?”

      “Supplies for the hotel are to arrive by end of the week, but there’s no reason I can’t call on you for some odd jobs before that, right? Why don’t you get settled in next door and I’ll see what comes up over the next day or so to keep you occupied in the meanwhile.”

      Bridger pushed his chair away and stood, shaking Ike’s outstretched hand. “Sounds good. I reckon anyone looking for a stranger in town might check with you, then?” He tossed coins from his pocket to pay for the meal onto the table.

      “That a problem for you?” Ike asked with more interest than concern.

      “No, sir. But I found a body out on the trail—turned out to be your sheriff. I would suppose someone will have questions for me sooner or later. I want them to know I didn’t run out.”

      The glitter of coins on the table reflected in Ike’s eyes. “What happened?” He pulled the stub of cigar from his lips and leaned forward.

      “Looks like his horse threw him and he hit his head on a rock. The undertaker lady, she seemed plenty shook and not of a mind to discuss much when I delivered him.” Bridger blinked his tired eyes.

      “Lola will handle it. You’ll not find many women with her strength. I’ll see to it she knows where to find you, but it doesn’t sound like there’s much to tell.”

      “Not so far as I could see, but that doesn’t stop the need to ask the questions.” Bridger smirked. Lying low never came easy to him.

      “You think people should be worried about your answers?” Ike grinned.

      “I didn’t do anything but find the poor guy. But the way I look right now, I don’t reckon it’ll stop any wagging tongues. If you’re worried about the answers I’ll give, I may not be your man for the job.”

      Ike waved him off, his easy smile tight and the gleam in his eye sharp. “Don’t bother me none, either way. Sometimes a man with secrets makes him the best asset of a business.”

      Bridger ran a hand over his scrubby whiskers. “Strange thing, finding a woman undertaker.”

      Ike Tyler leaned back in his seat, one leg crossed over the other, and twirled the stub of cigar between his fingers. “Well, I think mainly Lola doesn’t know what else to do with herself yet. Her father died a few months back, murdered by some drifter coming through town. First hanging we’ve had in these parts that I recall.” He snuffed his cigar on the edge of Bridger’s empty plate. “Lola worked with him since she was real young. I suppose folks around here are giving her a chance to mourn and sort through everything before she figures out what to do next. Besides, there’s no one else in town. Doc Kendall travels between Quiver Creek and four other towns, so we only see him once every couple months.”

      Bridger stacked this information against

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