Free Remembered by Tamera Alexander Page B

it.
    He ran a hand along the lower curve of the back wheel and checked the spokes. Flawless . “Bertram Colby recommended you highly, Mr. Sampson. He said you were this territory’s finest wheelwright.” He stood slowly, waiting until he had Sampson’s full attention. “But I think he was off on that estimation.” He hesitated only a second. “This is the finest built freight wagon I’ve ever seen. And I’ve traveled about every mile of trail west of the Mississippi, so I’ve seen a slew of them.”
    Jake Sampson laughed as though the opportunity might not come around again. “Well, it wouldn’t do for me to argue with that, now, would it, Brennan? I can’t be takin’ all the credit though. I was just followin’ your instructions, after all.” Sampson pulled the checkered bandanna from around his neck and wiped the layer of sweat from his brow. “You made the drawings real specific like. I’ve still got ’em over there on the bench if you want ’em back.”
    “What do I need those for? I’ve got the real thing now.” Jack extended his hand. “Thank you for having it ready for me, and I apologize for being a few days late on picking it up. I made an extra stop in Idaho I hadn’t planned on.”
    “I was only startin’ to wonder about you. Real worry hadn’t set in quite yet.” The old man’s eyes squinted when he grinned, and his handshake was as solid as his workmanship. “I built this buggy to take just about any grief you wanna give it. But one thing I don’t know yet is where you’re plannin’ on takin’ it. You must have some heavy loads and rough country in your sights, son.”
    “Yes, sir, you could say that.” Jack gestured to a bucket of water. “Do you mind?” At Sampson’s nod, he filled the ladle and slaked his thirst, speaking in between drinks. “I’ll be running the freight service up to the mining towns around here for Hochstetler at the mercantile.”
    Mild surprise skittered across Sampson’s wizened features. “Minin’ towns . . . You don’t say. I thought some crook by the name of Zimmerman was doin’ that.”
    Jack smiled at the none-too-subtle insinuation. So far not one thing he’d heard about Zimmerman had been complimentary. Made him wonder why Hochstetler had kept the guy on. Jack only hoped his predecessor’s widespread reputation wouldn’t cast a shadow on him, and he planned on working hard to make sure it didn’t. “He did, until he got hurt recently, and then the job came open. I was already looking for work in this area, and Bertram Colby knew it. I had told him where to reach me if anything came open, and he wired me about it. I applied for the job right away.” Jack returned the ladle to the bucket. “Hochstetler took me on sight unseen. Colby put in a good word for me, and I know that’s what did the trick.”
    “Colby’s a good man. We go way back together. If you’re a friend of his, Brennan, you’re already one of mine.” Sampson considered him for a moment. “You from around these parts?”
    “No, sir. I’m originally from Missouri, but I’ve spent the last several years guiding wagon parties, bringing out new families to fill up all this open space.” Something about the way the older man stared at him made Jack wonder if he had something else on his mind. So far Sampson had seemed like a pretty straightforward character. Jack decided to let it play out, give Sampson time to bring up whatever else might be brewing up there.
    Jack motioned down the street in the direction of the mercantile. “Hochstetler told me about another couple of storekeepers in the area who are looking to expand their trade. I’ll head over and see them this afternoon. I need to leave Monday morning with a full load.”
    “I might be interested in doin’ that, too,” Sampson offered. “Let you sell some of my stuff. For the right price, of course.”
    So that was it. The old man wanted a piece of the pie. “Judging from the quality of your work,