Kerri Mountain - Wyoming Promises

A Place to Call Home

Traveling through the Wyoming wilderness, all Bridger Jamison wants is a job and a safe haven for his brother. Finding work with the lovely Lola Martin solves at least one of his problems. And the charming town of Quiver Creek seems like the perfect place to start a new life.

A string of mysterious deaths has the town—and Lola—on edge. She isn’t sure what to make of the new man in town. But she can’t help trusting the handsome carpenter who shows such tenderness toward his brother. When secrets come to light, Lola must put her faith in the man who’s stolen her heart, or risk letting a perfect love pass her by.…

“I meant no offense, Lola.”

Bridger stepped closer but refrained from reaching out. Instead, he dipped his head to catch her gaze.

She brushed a tear from her cheek. “I’m sorry, too. I wasn’t fair to accuse you so quickly, either. We’ve had more than our share of grief and sadness in Quiver Creek these past few months. I’m praying for a better season ahead.”

Bridger nodded. “I hope for your sake that’s the case.” He turned to the tray, his appetite dulled. “I’m especially sorry to upset you after you went to the trouble of this fine lunch.”

Lola managed a shaky smile. “I’m sorry I allowed my lack of sleep and temper to get the best of me so that you’re forced to eat it cooled.”

“Let’s say we’re sort of even, then, and start where we were a half hour ago,” he said.

“Who’s to say I trusted you half an hour ago?” Her eyes lit with humor, but he recognized the truth in her jest.

His breathing eased as he focused on her guarded expression. “You offered me lunch and gave me the key to your father’s woodshop. At least I’m on the right track.”

KERRI MOUNTAIN

grew up surrounded by books and storytellers, writing stories of her own since elementary school. But she never thought of writing books until searching for a degree in children’s literature. What she found instead was a master’s degree program in writing popular fiction. With strong support of family and faculty, she learned to develop the seed of a story into a novel.

Kerri lives in rural western Pennsylvania with her parents on their small family farm, but enjoys traveling at every opportunity. She especially enjoys the mountains of Wyoming and visiting the National Parks. She is blessed by the quiet lifestyle of country living, and by spending time spoiling her nieces and nephews on a regular basis.

Wyoming Promises

Kerri Mountain

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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You need to persevere so that when you have done the will of God, you will receive what He has promised.

—Hebrews 10:36

In honor of my grandparents,

Gilbert and Mae Good,

and their legacy of faith, love and stories….

I can’t say thank you enough to my family and friends, who encourage me in so many ways. With special gratitude for the Whitlock family, who so graciously reacquainted me with Wyoming’s beauty when I needed it most. And thank you to Cindy Elliott, critique partner extraordinaire!

Praise the Lord for His many blessings!

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Dear Reader

Questions for Discussion

Extract

Chapter One

Wyoming, 1870

Lola Martin opened her door and raised a lantern, its flame flickering in the cool night air.

“I’m looking for the undertaker, ma’am. Got a body for him.” The man’s voice was worn and gritty like an old straw tick, but his tone gave nothing away.

He glanced over her shoulder, as if the undertaker would appear from the shadows behind. Light reflected off his brown eyes as if off an empty store window. Desperation lurked in the hard lines of his face, making it difficult to guess his age. A deep scar cut across his cheek to the edge of his crooked lip, just escaping the whiskers that wouldn’t hide his stubborn jaw.

“I’m the undertaker. What can I do for you?”

His spurs rattled as he shifted, but if she surprised him, his face didn’t show it. He rocked his hat on his head and heaved a raw sigh. “I found a man dead out on the trail, not far from here. Head busted on a big rock. Looks like his horse threw him.”

Lola’s heart tripped. She wished the sheriff hadn’t been called out. Pete McKenna always kept an eye on her place, out on the edge of Quiver Creek. Grace, his wife, Lola’s dearest friend, insisted on it.

She’d have to find a way to notify the man’s family, and hoped he turned out to be some drifter. But her conscience pricked her. She should be praying the man died ready to meet his Maker. She hung the lantern outside the door and grabbed her shawl. “Let’s see him.”

The man’s jaw twitched. He stepped back to make way for her. “If it’s all right by you, ma’am, I’ll bring him inside. You tell me where you want him.”

The idea of a stranger bringing a “guest” into her home after dark gave her pause, but she couldn’t carry the body herself. No one else would be around at this hour. She looked into the man’s eyes, seeing the exhaustion shining from their dark depths. She didn’t recognize him, probably wouldn’t even without the pounds of trail dust he carried. He stood taller than her, though that didn’t say much for his height, and a worn hat sat low over his forehead. Lord, keep me safe, she prayed. She swallowed hard and nodded. “I’ll get the table ready.”

Lola swung the door wide, its knob bouncing against the inside wall. She pulled a fresh sheet from the corner cupboard and draped it over a long table in the middle of the room. Her stiff muscles and sleepy eyes protested the work ahead, but she couldn’t let it wait until morning. She’d at least clean him up before turning in. And she’d have to talk to Ike about a carpenter. Business had picked up in the months since her father’s death. Supplies she could order, but this “guest” would use the last remaining coffin he had made. She’d learned all aspects of the business from her father—except that one. She’d need to find a woodworker who could build a few to have on hand.

A blanket-wrapped body heaved over his shoulder dwarfed the stranger easing through the door. He walked with firm steps, spurs ringing as he trod across the wooden floorboards.

Lola closed the door and followed, lighting more lanterns. She pumped water into a kettle to heat. “Will you be around a few days, Mr.—?”

“Jamison. Bridger Jamison,” the man supplied. “Depends on whether or not I find work. Why?”

Lola rolled her sleeves, determined to prepare her guest with care. The slack body swayed as Mr. Jamison carried him, proof he’d lain on the trail long enough for rigor to pass. The head bobbed a little too freely. She suspected a broken neck had ended the man’s life in an instant. She donned a fresh apron. “Well, Mr. Jamison, I’m sure the sheriff will have questions, so he can investigate the death. He’s been called to help track a cougar that’s been aggravating the local ranchers.”