"Who are the men coming with us?" She tossed back her whiskey and motioned to the bartender to bring another.
"Does it matter?"
"I suppose not," she said after a minute. "As long as they keep up and understand who's in charge."
Her nose was neither too large nor too small. The same could be said of her forehead. When she turned to say something to Peaches, Tanner admired a clean sharp profile. If he'd been pressed to describe her, he would have said she was a handsome woman, but few would notice since she was so unconventional in all other ways. A casual observer would see only the odd clothing, the unkempt hair, and the ready-to-fight challenge in her eyes.
"Did you say something?" he asked when he realized she was staring back at him with an expectant expression.
"Tell me about you. I need to decide if I can stand you."
A humorless smile twitched his lips. "You have to like your clients to take their money?"
"I have to not detest them. I have to be able to stand their company for a long period of time." She was serious.
"I'm a mining engineer," he said, suddenly irritated.
"What exactly is a mining engineer?"
"I design mines, and inspect existing operations. I look for ways to improve safety, check the equipment, suggest methods to make the mine more efficient and profitable."
One eyebrow lifted and she nodded slowly. "And you like doing that?"
Did he? Spending most of his life in an office or underground was not what he'd planned. Frowning, he studied her face. "For the moment."
"Where's home? Here in Carson, or at the other end, in Denver? Or someplace else entirely?"
"I have a house in Denver. The company I work for is headquartered there, although the company owns mines in the Sierras, the Rockies, and in Utah. I go where the company sends me."
She sat up straight and stared. "You wouldn't happen to work for Jennings Mining and Mercantile, do you?"
"Yes." He hadn't realized that JM&M wielded enough presence in the area that someone like Fox would recognize the company.
She met Peaches's gaze in the back-bar mirror, then dragged a hand down her face. "Damn all," she murmured before she pulled back her shoulders and released a breath. "We're almost finished. Do you read books? Play chess or checkers?"
"What in the world does that have to do with going to Denver?"
"Would you say you're a patient man? Willing to carry your share of the load?"
He'd had enough nonsense. "I'm willing to pay you to lead my party to Denver," he said in a terse voice. "Do you want the job or not?"
"All right," she said after a minute. "We've got a deal. Me and Peaches will meet you tomorrow to buy the horses and provisions. We'll leave at dawn the following day."
Peaches put down his glass and wiped his mouth. "We got to be going. Thank you for the whiskey, Mr. Tanner."
"You don't have to thank him," Fox snapped, "he's not doing us any favor. Part of the deal is that he pays our expenses."
"I done taught you better than that, Missy. If you want to have style, you got to have manners. Can't have the one without the other."
"Who said I wanted style? Damn all, Peaches."
"I know what you're thinking before you even think it."
Tanner didn't hear her response because the door swung shut behind them, cutting off whatever she might have replied. After checking the time, he ordered another whiskey.
"Do Miss Fox and Mr. Hernandez come in here often?"
"Miss Fox?" The bartender smiled. "Never heard her called that before."
The bartender moved to the far end of the bar, signaling he wouldn't be drawn into a conversation. Tanner stretched his neck against his hand and flexed his shoulders. All in all, a frustrating start to the day had ended better than expected.
Throughout the evening with John Manning and his wife, Tanner's thoughts continually strayed toward Fox. If he'd had more time, perhaps he could have located a more conventional guide. He suspected there would be occasions when Hanratty and Brown would object to taking orders from a woman.
And he recalled his surprise and then irritation when he discovered Fox negotiating with Harry Whitfield. His first thought had been if he was going to pay for those horses and own them, then he'd damned well do his own bargaining.
Yes, there were going to be moments when taking orders from a woman wasn't going to sit well at all. He'd have to remind himself, and Hanratty and Brown, that Fox was the expert, she had the experience and the knowledge and following her lead was part of the bargain.
The next day he met with Hanratty and Brown, told them when and where to meet the following morning. Afterward he had a shave and a haircut, then shipped his belongings to Denver except for the items he'd need on the journey. He ran into Fox and Peaches outside the St. Charles, looking pleased with themselves.
"It's been a good morning so far," Peaches said by way of a greeting. He smiled broadly, displaying perfect white teeth.
"That's a fact," Fox said, swinging down off the wagon. "We sold another load of ice, and Whitfield has agreed to meet our terms." A satisfied smile lightened her expression. "Peaches is taking the horse and wagon to Whitfield right now. We had to throw in the wagon, but that's all right."
"The cabin's closed up," Peaches added. "I reckon we're ready to go."
Tanner nodded. "You've got everything in hand. It doesn't sound like you need me, so I'll"
"We need your money," Fox said, pulling a list from beneath her poncho. "You should stop by the General Store and pay McGurty for the provisions, then pay Whitfield for the animals. Then go to the bathhouse and pay them. And me and Peaches want our up-front money anytime today that you want to pay it." She gave him a long measuring stare as if challenging him to prove he could produce the funds.
He planted his feet in the dusty road and looked down at her. "What's this about paying the bathhouse. What for?"
"Well, for me and Peaches to have a bath, what do you think? I figure we should start out clean. We aren't going to have another decent hot-water bath for a long time." Her gaze skimmed his close shave and shorter hair. "Looks like you had the same idea yourself. Now, when are you planning to pay us?"
"Right now," he said after a minute, reaching for the pouch inside his jacket.
"Not here," Fox said between her teeth. Grabbing his arm, she gave him a tug toward the lobby of the St. Charles. Inside, she looked around then led him behind a tall leafy plant growing out of a massive urn. "It's not smart to go flashing money around," she said, rolling her eyes like she couldn't believe what a rube he was.
"And you don't think two people hiding behind a plant will occasion any comment?" She was the strangest woman he'd ever met. Acutely aware that everyone in the lobby had watched her drag him behind the urn, he quickly counted eleven twenty-dollar gold pieces into her palm and one ten-dollar piece. "That's yours, half of three months' pay up front, and here's"
"I'm not taking Peaches's money." The glare deepened. "You can pay Peaches when you catch up with him at Harry Whitfield's." She closed her fist around the coins then opened her palm again. "You gave me five dollars too much."
"That's for the bathhouse."
"It won't cost anywhere near five dollars."
Tanner swore under his breath. She could find an argument in the simplest statement. "Keep the change. I'll see you at daybreak tomorrow."
She followed him around the urn and back to the street. "You'll see me before that, at the General Store. It's going to take time to check all the provisions against my list, and I want to persuade McGurty to let us use his back lot as a staging area."
"I have some things to take care of. I'm sure you'll be finished before I get to the General Store." He wasn't going near the store until he was certain she was gone. He'd had enough aggravation for one day. "If you'll excuse me, I'm going to Whitfield's to pay for the animals."
Fox stood on the boardwalk and watched him stride down the street. He had good man
ners, she'd give him that, but it was beginning to look as if he was moody and possibly ill-humored. There was nothing worse on a long trek than temperamental companions. And she hadn't met the other two yet, whoever they were. Well, if the worst happened, she didn't have to spend time with them. She had Peaches, and Peaches was always good company.
Checking the provisions went more smoothly than she'd anticipated, and the new gear was in order. As she ticked the items off her list, she silently calculated how she would pack everything and how best to distribute the load among the mules. She had everything figured out before she met Peaches at the bathhouse.
"We want the works," she told the attendant. "Shave, haircut, and bath for him; shampoo and bath for meand we want all the extras, the good-smelling stuff. We want private rooms and sandwiches and whiskey." With a flourish she counted out four dollars then headed toward the women's side of the building.
It felt good to walk past the communal bathing pool, which had a light scum floating on the surface, and enter one of the private rooms. Fox had only enjoyed a private bathing room one other time in her whole life.
An attendant had gone ahead and laid out towels that didn't look as if they'd already been used, had lit the lamps and set out fancy scented soap, a pot of face cream, and tooth powder.
"Food, drinks, and hot water are on the way," the attendant announced cheerfully. "There's a dish where you can put your hairpins. Clothes go on those hooks over there. I'll be back before you've finished creaming your face."
Fox had never in her life creamed her face. She opened the pot and sniffed the contents. The scent made her think of mountain junipers. Well, why not? Maybe her face was starving for cream. She didn't know about that kind of thing.
After undressing, she wrapped herself in one of the wonderful towels, then covered her hair before she slathered the cream on her face. A light tingling rose in the chapped areas.
When she was finally settled in steaming scented water, sandwiches on the small table beside her, a whiskey in one hand and a cigar in the other, she closed her eyes, sighed, and gave herself up to true luxury.
And she wondered where Matthew Tanner was right now. What were the "other things" he had to do today? Was there someone to whom he needed to bid farewell? Did he have some work to finish before he left?
A frown wrinkled her brow. She'd nearly choked on her whiskey when Tanner mentioned that he worked for Hobbs Jennings. For a moment she'd heard a roaring in her ears, fate shouting to make sure she was paying attention. After that it didn't matter how Tanner answered her questions. Any niggling doubt had fled her mind.
Relaxing, she blew a smoke ring through the rising steam then swallowed a sip of whiskey. Matthew Tanner. If Fox had lived the life she was supposed to have lived, if she'd been the woman she was supposed to have been, Matthew Tanner was a man she might have set her cap for.
She thought about that, letting herself daydream fairy-tale fantasies until her bathwater cooled. Then she sighed. She hated it when she let herself dream of might-have-beens. That kind of dream left her feeling inadequate and depressed.
After she wiped the cream off her face, she looked into a mirror. Maybe her cheeks appeared less red and raw. Maybe. She couldn't really tell.
What the hell difference did it make, anyway? Matthew Tanner was never going to pay her any attention. And she didn't want him to. Business and pleasure didn't mix.
By the time Tanner arrived at the staging area, minutes before dawn, Fox and Peaches had loaded the panniers and strapped them on the mules. The mustangs that Tanner had bought yesterday were saddled and waiting. Holding a tin cup of coffee, Fox stood to one side, sizing up Cutter Hanratty and Jubal Brown and running her eyes over the mules.
"I guess you met the boys," Tanner said, leading a mule up to the trains. Fox had put three mules in one train, two in the other.
"What's this?" she asked, incredulous. Angry and disbelieving, she strode forward to stare at his mule. "We have all the mules we need. Besides, we agreed that I would select the animals!"
"We needed one more," Tanner said, moving his mule up behind the short train. As the sky brightened, he studied the method she'd used to tether the mules. Excellent. If one balked, the twine lead would break and the other mules wouldn't be pulled over.
"The hell we do," she snapped, following him. Without a by-your-leave, she untied one side of the tarp, raised it, and stared at the load underneath. For a long minute she frowned, not recognizing what she was looking at. Then she said, "Oh my Lord. You're packing bags of money! Good God."
Hanratty stepped forward, but Tanner waved him back. There had never been any realistic hope that Fox wouldn't learn what he was carrying. "It's gold coins," Tanner said in a low voice, tying the mule into the short train.
Fox looked around as the sun popped over the horizon. "Did you steal this money?" she demanded, stepping close so no one could hear her furious whisper.
The question offended him. "It's my money."
"All right, let's suppose I believe that. But actually, it doesn't matter, because you aren't taking bags of money on this trip!" Spinning, she opened the tarp on the far side. "Four bags total. Damn it. What were you thinking? This is flat unacceptable."
"The money is the whole purpose of this trip."
She looked around again, glared at Hanratty, Brown, and Peaches, then leaned in close. "This money is going to paint big targets on our backs. Don't you understand that? Every outlaw in the territory will be looking for us. It's too dangerous."
"Nobody knows about the money except the people standing right here. And I've taken precautions. Hanratty and Brown are here for the sole purpose of guarding the money."
"Don't tell me that no one knows about this." Now she had her fists on her hips and was leaning up on her tiptoes to look him in the eye. "A bank teller knows. Probably others in the bank. The Carson bank is too small to keep this many coins on hand, so a telegraph operator knows. Whoever guarded the money until the bank picked it up knows this money went to Carson. It's too early for the bank to be open, so you probably kept the coins in the hotel vault. Whoever opened the vault for you knows. If each of those people tells one other person a whole lot of people know you are moving a whole lot of money. Exactly how much money did you think you were going to take through the wilderness?"
"Fifty thousand dollars." Opening his jacket, he reached for the telegram.
"Oh Christ." She turned in a full circle, then looked up at him, shaking her head. "I won't do it, Tanner. Either you take that mule back to the bank, or you find yourself a new scout. I'm not crazy enough to beg outlaws to come get us."
"The money goes with us."
"Then I quit."
"Read this first," he said, putting the telegram in her hand. Turning, he faced east, not knowing how she would respond.
She read aloud, anger clipping her tone. "If you want to see your father again bring fifty thousand in coin to Denver stop. Arrive by May first or your old man dies stop."
Tanner heard her draw a long breath before she swore and then read the telegram again, the anger draining out of her voice.
"Somebody's kidnapped your father," she said, frowning at the money mule. "Have you checked to make sure this isn't a hoax?"
"It's not a hoax." He turned and studied her face. She was no longer spitting mad, but she wasn't happy. He couldn't tell what she was thinking. "You read the telegram. If I don't get this money to Denver, my father dies."
Without saying anything more, she walked to the edge of the staging area, folded her arms across her chest and turned her face in the direction of the rising sun. When she took her hat off and slapped it against her thigh, the sun lit her long braid like a column of flame.
"Peaches?"
When Peaches joined her, they both stood with arms across their chests, staring at the sky. Tanner smoked and waited, watching them, wondering if he could find Denver on his own.
Finally he heard her say, "It's his daddy. I'd d
o the same thing." Watched Peaches nod then murmur, "We got to go."
"All right," she said, walking back to the horses and mules. "Move the money mule to the middle of the train." Her gaze swept Tanner and his guards. "That money is your responsibility, not mine. You hear me, boys? If there's trouble because of this, that's your problem, not mine and not Mr. Hernandez's."
"Thank you," Tanner said quietly. He folded the telegram back into his inside pocket. There was no reason to keep it, but he did and he read it over and over.
"We've got seventy-one days," Fox said, squinting into the sun. "With luck, we can make Denver with a little time to spare. Depends on how things go."
"Are your parents alive?" Tanner asked, curious as to why she had capitulated so easily.
"Both dead. A long time ago." She glanced toward Peaches who was mounted and waiting. "Me and Peaches will lead the trains for the first few days while you boys get used to the saddle, then we'll trade off. We'll make it a short day today, only go as far as Gold Canyon. It'll take a while to establish a routine for setting up camp."
After Hanratty and Brown finished moving the money mule to the middle of the train, Fox stood beside it, eyeing the tarp.
"You really believe outlaws will follow us?" Tanner asked, swinging up on the big bay. He made sure his bedroll was tied down, checked his canteen and rifle scabbard.
"Oh yeah." Shifting, she narrowed her gaze on Hanratty and Brown, watching them step into their saddles. "That gold is going to be trouble. How well do you know your guards?"
"I trust them," he said coolly.
"Well, then." Fox gave him a nod before she swung up on her mustang. After adjusting the rope trailing back to the three mules she would lead, she touched her heels to the mustang's flanks. "Let's go."
It didn't surprise Tanner that she sat a horse like she'd been born in a saddle or that she made leading a mule train look easy. It did surprise him though to admit how much he trusted this small angry woman. He glanced ahead at the red and gold braid dropping down the back of her shapeless poncho. He'd be following that flaming braid for over a thousand miles.
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