Jericho wasn’t discouraged yet by how slow his progress was. And his lack of discouragement had nothing to do with his getting to see Ivy every day. Even though he’d told himself he’d only stay a few days at Healing Springs, he decided he wasn’t in a hurry to move to town. After the bog incident two days ago, he was less inclined, especially with the realization that if he hadn’t been around to notice Ivy’s absence, she would have been stuck out in the mud all night.

He’d mulled over Flynn’s revelation that Ivy’d had a hankering for him for a long while. It was still hard to believe. Especially because she’d always been with one fellow or another at socials and dances.

Even though it’d been difficult to get the image of her long legs out of his head, he was determined to keep his vow to Flynn and keep things with her friend-like.

The hairs at the back of his neck stood on end again, and this time he drew the team to a halt. He might as well confront whoever was watching him. It would be better than sitting out in the open.

He slowly descended while scanning the thick pines that grew alongside the sloping gulch. Among the cover of branches and amidst the trunks, he counted three fellows on their mounts, and one of them was wearing a long black cloak.

Bat and his gang.

Even if Bat was a dangerous gambler and wouldn’t hesitate to kill anyone who double-crossed him, he wasn’t stupid enough to murder a law-abiding citizen like Jericho in broad daylight, especially within sight of the sawmill—at least Jericho hoped so.

“What do you want, Bat?” he called.

“Jericho Bliss. Heard you was back in the area.” Bat stayed hidden within the shadows of the pine. “I know it was you who freed Dylan McQuaid from my men.”

Jericho tensed, but he feigned nonchalance. He’d long since learned it was best to keep his opponent from sensing any emotion. “That was close to two years ago. Time to let bygones be bygones.”

“He owes me two thousand dollars plus interest.” Bat conferred with one of his men before speaking to Jericho again. “That amounts to three thousand dollars now.”

“Guess that’s your problem. You shouldn’t have let Dylan join in your gaming since you already knew he was low on money.”

“He vowed he was good for it.”

Jericho shrugged. “Anyone with half a brain knows Dylan’s a drunk and can’t be trusted.”

Bat and his men didn’t respond.

Jericho made a point of gazing down the wagon path at the sawmill. A few men loitered around the river that generated power for the saws. A couple of wagons were parked near the loading dock awaiting lumber, their drivers watching him, likely wondering why he’d stopped.