COWBOY ROMANCE: Justin (Western Contemporary Alpha Male Bride Romance) (The Steele Brothers Book 1) (186 page)

Chapter 9

The next morning when Karin didn’t appear to watch Emily, Bridget took her to the newspaper office. She set the child down at Moya’s desk, gave her some paper and a pencil, and asked Emily to draw a picture for her. Until Moya came into work, Bridget would just have to keep an eye on the child to make sure she didn’t play with the telegraph machine. When Mike was done working in his office, she would send Emily in there.

With Emily busy, Bridget went to sit down by Mike’s desk and question him. “What happened yesterday, Mike?”

“When Dr. Frey examined Palmer, he said that this wasn’t an accident. Somebody used a board with a lot of force and hit Palmer across the back. Doc said that the bruising couldn’t have been caused by a fall because of how clean the edges of it were.”

“What does that mean?”

“A two-by-four was used on him. I saw the injury myself, and I agree with Doc. Rollie Palmer was deliberately injured. That’s assault. It could have been with a deadly weapon if the person had hit Palmer over the head.”

“Who would do such a thing?” Bridget wondered aloud. “And why?”

“Palmer doesn’t know—or isn’t talking,” Mike said.

Bridget studied him suspiciously. Mike was being too cryptic for her liking, and she was getting the feeling that he was hiding something from her. To show that she knew what he was doing, she spoke in a maternal tone. “Michael O’Riley, you tell me everything.”

His green eyes lit in merriment. “You sounded exactly like Ma, Bridge.

“Stop avoiding the conversation. Tell me what you know.”

“Something’s going on here in Forestville. This isn’t the first time something like this has happened, you know.”

And Mike proceeded to explain how Moya had been assaulted, as well, and nearly killed by a blow to the head. It wasn’t a lumberjacking accident. It was deliberate, according to Dr. Frey.

“I haven’t asked Moya about it,” Mike admitted, “but Dr. Frey was quite willing to talk. He knows that it was deliberate because of the type of injuries, just like with Palmer. Apparently, though, Moya doesn’t remember his attack, so they can’t go to the sheriff.”

Bridget had known that Moya was injured by a falling limb, which was why he had trouble using the left side of his body, but Elise hadn’t mentioned that it had been deliberate.

Before Bridget could ask Mike more about what had happened to Moya, though, Mike continued. Since they’d been in town and he was trying to find a story, he’d learned that the owner of the mercantile store was none other than Frank Harris. The owner of the livery stable was Frank Harris. The men working in Forestville, both at the lumberyard and the mill, were paid only a small salary but their homes were theirs to live in rent-free as long as they worked for the lumber company. If they left or worked for someone other than Frank Harris, they would be charged an exorbitant amount of rent. Even the prostitutes at the saloon paid someone from their earnings, although nobody knew who that was because they physically paid the sheriff, who put the money in the bank—owned by Frank Harris and run by one of his cronies.

“This is beginning to sound like corruption,” Bridget said in amazement.

“That’s the same thing I thought.”

“Thank goodness he doesn’t own the press.” Mike cleared his throat, which sent suspicion racing through Bridget. “Michael, tell me he doesn’t own the newspaper.”

“In essence, he does,” Mike admitted. “When I signed the contract, there was a clause in it that said, if I ever printed anything he didn’t approve, he could take over its operation or appoint someone else to do it.”

“Mike! How could you sign that?”

“I was desperate to have a newspaper, and I was thrilled it was happening. At that time, I had no idea that I would actually find evidence that he wouldn’t want published. After all, we’re protected by the constitution.”

“But
not
from Frank Harris,” she said angrily.

“I realize that now, Bridget. Most likely, the last thing I will ever write here is a story about Frank Harris and his minions.”

“Does that mean you’re going to continue investigating what’s happening?”

“I am.”

“I don’t know, Mike. That might not be such a good idea. You’ve already been warned.”

“We can’t let this go unreported, Bridge. We have to do something to stop it.”

“I didn’t say we would. Am I included in that contract?”

“No, just me. You’re
just a
woman
according to him. He didn’t want anything that included your name. I figured that, since I was putting up half the money and you weren’t contributing, it would be okay.” He paused and gazed at her over his desk. “What are you thinking?”

“Nothing really. I was just curious.” Bridget rose from her chair and started out of the room. “I’d better check on Emily. Who knows what a five-year-old could say on a telegraph machine.”

But in fact, Bridget was thinking a lot. Mike had given her information that he’d gotten from somewhere, and Jared had told her last night that he wasn’t allowed to do anything about the attack on Rollie Palmer. Nobody, however, had said anything about
her
not investigating what was happening in Forestville. She couldn’t tell the men what she was thinking, though, because either or both of them would try to stop her.

For her, this wasn’t about Harris and whatever he was up to; this was about free press; this was about protecting the Constitution. If someone didn’t take a stand, sometime, somewhere, this could grow to cover more than just their little part of the United States. It could fester like an infected wound and spread throughout the country. One reason her family had come to America was because of the freedom, and Bridget would be damned if she wouldn’t stand behind that freedom.

Chapter 10

When Moya arrived for work later that morning, Bridget decided to approach him about how he was injured and what he remembered. With Mike out of the office to talk to the sheriff, Bridget joined Moya in the telegraph room.

“What time did you finally get home last night Moya?” she asked casually after putting Emily in Mike’s office.

“After midnight,” he replied.

“Wow! Did it really take that long to get a reply from Harris?”

“
Nej
. Mike and I talked for a
vile
. He had a lot of
qvestions.
Didn’t he tell you?”

Thanks to her friendship with Elise, Bridget had learned a little Swedish, and she knew that
nej
meant no. But Mike hadn’t mentioned talking with Moya. She wondered why.

“What about?”

“He
vanted
to know about my head
inyury
, so I told him
vat
I know—
noting
.”

“Nothing? Not even bits and pieces?”

“
Noting
. Doc said I might never remember, but it might come back a little at a time or all at
vunce
.”

Bridget sighed. Moya was no help to her investigation. But she didn’t want Moya to know she was up to in case he told Mike, so she shrugged and spoke sympathetically, “I’m sorry to hear that, Moya. It must be awful to not remember part of your life.”

“It’s not bad. It’s
yust
dat
few minutes
ven
I
vas
unconscious.”

“Would you do me a favor?” Bridget asked. “I want to check on Karin and see how she’s feeling. Would you watch Emily for me? I don’t want her around Karin if she’s sick.”

“Sure.”

“Thanks, Moya.”

After telling Emily to be good for Moya while she ran an errand, Bridget left the building. She didn’t check on Karin, though. Instead, she went to see Jared in his office.

“Hi, sugar,” he said as she entered.

Rising and striding around his desk, he swept her into his arms and kissed her passionately. She wanted to be swept into the moment, but she couldn’t. She needed information more than anything else.               Pushing away from him, she asked, “Did you know that Moya and Mike sat at the newspaper office until after midnight last night?”

“No,” he replied as he draped his arm around her and escorted her to a chair. “Is it something I
need
to know?”

Bridget sat down and watched as he dropped into the chair next to hers. “I don’t know that it’s something you
need
to know, but it is interesting.”

“Interesting how?” he asked.

“I guess Mike was asking Moya what he remembered about how he got his injury, but Moya doesn’t remember anything.”

“That’s common knowledge around town. You two probably don’t know about it because you came after it happened. Nobody thinks anything about it anymore.”

“Don’t you think it’s odd?”

Jared laid his arm on the back of her chair and toyed with a lock of hair that had escaped from her chignon. “Doc Frey says it’s not abnormal for someone in his circumstances.”

Despite the flames of desire that shot through her, Bridget knew that this wasn’t the time or place to let those feelings overtake her. To distract her thoughts, she asked, “Do you still think it would be normal if you knew what Mike told me this morning?”

Bridget told Jared everything that she and Mike had discussed that morning. Throughout her explanation, Jared’s face took on a concerned expression. She didn’t know what he was thinking, because she didn’t know him that well yet, but she knew he didn’t like what she was telling him.

“What do you think?” Bridget asked when she finished. “Is this something we should be worried about as citizens of Forestville?”

“I’ll admit that it doesn’t sound very good, but you’ve got to remember that this is a company town. That means the company owns it. If Harris owns the company, he obviously owns the town. Is it really surprising that he would put people he trusted in those positions?”

“But prostitutes? Why would he demand payment from them?”

“From what you said, sweetheart,” Jared said calmly, “there’s no proof that he’s the one being paid. It sounds like they’re paying the sheriff.”

Pursing her lips, Bridget considered that for a moment. If she owned a company that owned a town, she would probably put people she trusted in charge, just as Jared had said. Did that mean, though, that she would take money
from
them instead of giving them a good salary? Suddenly, a thought struck her, and she had to know the answer.

“Jared?” she asked, unsure she actually wanted to know. “How did you get this job?”

His face took on a stunned expression. “Surely, you don’t think
I’m
being bought by Harris.”

“I don’t know what to think,” she admitted. “It’s not like I’ve known you very long. Besides, I didn’t say you were bought by Harris. I simply asked how you got the job.”

“He called on me one day about a year ago. He said he’d been asking around because he needed somebody here. He’d heard that I was a good worker and loyal to my boss, and he offered me a salary here that, quite frankly, I couldn’t turn down. He also offered to pay for a nanny and a housekeeper since my wife had died. He lived up to his end of the bargain, and he had got me a nanny who would also do the housework. I didn’t like her, though, because she didn’t always treat Emily well. So I hired Karin instead. She’s turned out to be great.”

Surprised by his complete explanation, Bridget’s suspicions peaked. It sounded to her like Jared
was
being bought, not by an outrageous salary, but benefits that were specific to him. He didn’t have a wife, so he was given someone who would serve as a wife. He was given a job of prestige, if not wealth.

“I don’t like the look on your face, Bridget,” Jared said, breaking into her thoughts. “What are you thinking?”

Embarrassed that he could read her expression, she gazed down at her hands that lay in her lap. “I just thought it was odd that he found you a nanny and housekeeper instead of letting you pick one you liked.”

Jared replied quickly, before she could even complete her entire sentence. “Oh, he
did
let me pick one. He was in town one day, so I told him how unhappy I was with the way she was treating Emily. He told me to go ahead and find the woman I wanted, and he would pay for her, no matter what the cost. He wants me to be happy here and to stay with his company.”

She shot her startled gaze to his face. “He
said
that?
He
pays Karin?”

“Actually, he pays me more so I can pay her. It works for us. So you see, he’s not buying me; he’s simply paying me a salary that’s consistent with my needs.”

“I see,” Bridget said, desperately struggling to contain her anger as she rose. “I should let you get back to work and go see how Karin is feeling.”

Jared scrambled to his feet and kissed her lightly on the cheek. “Tell her I hope she feels better soon.”

Bridget struggled to contain her excitement at his innocent peck. Oh, how she wished she could stay and love him—right on his desk if need be. Instead, she left, promising that she would relay the message. But her mind reeled with thoughts and suspicions that she really didn’t want to have. Was Jared really that naïve?