He was right about that. There wasn't a scrap of shade along this stretch, and nothing much grew near the river. White patches of desert alkali had begun to appear more frequently.
"How serious is the threat of an Indian attack?"
"Hard to say," Fox answered, trying to recall if she'd put on Peaches's sunburn protection. "Brightman's troops are looking for the warriors who slaughtered the Watson family. The investigation keeps the Indians resentful and angry. If they get themselves worked up enough there could be more incidents."
"And we could be one of them," Tanner said, scanning the hilltops. Frowning, he slapped his reins against his thigh. "How in the hell do you see that far? You must have eyes like an eagle."
This was the second compliment he'd given her and Fox didn't know what to make of it. At least she thought it was a compliment. It seemed to her that eagle-eyed was a good thing to be. But she couldn't think of anything to say back to him.
"Have you been in an Indian fight before?"
Relief dropped her shoulders. Now she had something to say. "A few times. All the tribes have horses and guns now, but ammunition is difficult to get so they don't do much practice shooting. Unless an Indian is almost on top of his target, he's likely to miss his shot. But if they use bow and arrows, well, that's a different story."
They had left the fort in a hurry and Tanner hadn't shaved this morning. Fox noticed the dark shadow of stubble and thought he might look good wearing a beard. On the other hand, she preferred clean-shaven men.
She wondered if Tanner realized that even with a hint of the east in his voice and even wearing quality boots and clothing, he was as formidable a figure as Hanratty and Brown. And no one looking at the three men together would mistake who was the boss. Hanratty and Brown both depended on weapons to establish authority, but Tanner managed the same thing in the way he carried himself and in the confidence and superiority he exuded.
Some might label him arrogant in the way he took charge of matters or even the cocky way he tilted his hat, but Fox liked arrogant men. She didn't like men who mumble-fumbled over making a decision, or who were content to follow rather than lead. Of course, arrogant men could be hard to get along with since they had an annoying propensity to believe they were always right.
"Do you think someone will try to steal your gold?"
He turned his head to meet her gaze. "No, I don't."
There was proof of what she'd been thinking. Reason and argument would not convince him that he was wrong. He was going to have to learn the hard way. She hoped she was wrong, but she didn't think so, Maybe that thinking made her a little arrogant, too.
"See those trees ahead? That would be the station. There'll be good forage for the animals since the station is between a lake and the river. The grass is more abundant there than out here." Slowly she scanned the hilltops. "Looks like the day is going to end well." In fact it was impossible to tell. But if Fox were a Paiute she'd attack out here instead of letting the targets get within thick adobe walls. She figured her Indian concerns were over for the day.
The station was small, large enough to house ten men maybe, but not comfortably. Adobe walls enclosed a frame house and a corral.
"There's something eerie about deserted places," Tanner remarked as they rode into the enclosure.
Fox glanced at him in surprise. She'd been thinking the same thing. Already the house appeared derelict. One corner of the roof sagged and bricks had fallen from the chimney.
"The pony express went out of business only four months ago," Fox said, eyeing the house. Nature was harsh out here. It didn't take long for heat and cold and blowing sand to leech the life out of creatures and structures.
A quick inspection showed the house had been stripped clean of furnishings and anything useful. An odor of grease and smoke lingered in the walls.
Fox stood on the stoop examining the enclosure and concluded they'd be more comfortable outside than inside the house. She turned her head toward the adobe corral where the men were unloading the mules, about to call to them when an arrow chunked into the wall of the house. That the shaft missed her by only a foot was a matter of luck. If the Indians could have seen her over the walls, they would have been more accurate.
Swearing, she jumped off the stoop and hit the ground running toward the corral where her rifle was still in the scabbard hanging from her saddle.
"Indians!"
The men looked up as an arrow sailed over the wall and pierced the pannier on the money mule.
Fox swore. "See those platforms with the ladders against them?" The ledges jutting from the adobe near the top of the walls provided a view and firing site. "Scatter. I want one of you on each side of the enclosure."
Before she'd finished speaking, she had her rifle and ammunition and was running toward the front of the enclosure. Tanner was on her heels as she scaled the ladder and kneeled next to the wall. The sun was sinking but the adobe was still warm to the touch.
Below them, Fox heard shouts and laughter and whoops and thudding hooves as the Indians charged the wooden gate and fired arrows into the rough-cut logs.
"You know what that sounds like?" She let her voice trail and listened. "Kids. Just fooling around." She flashed Tanner a glance of irritation. "Cover me, but don't shoot anyone unless you have to."
He was in midprotest when she stood and stared over the wall. Sure enough, six young Paiutes painted like warriors were having a grand time. The oldest couldn't have been more than maybe fifteen.
"Hey," she shouted, feeling the ever-present anger rise in her chest and tighten her throat.
Tanner rose alongside her, leveling his rifle. "What the hell are you doing?"
"You go on home before you get yourself killed," Fox shouted in Paiute. Smiles wiped clean, the boys looked up at her dumbstruck, as if a tree had spoken in their language. "Arrows don't stand a chance beside rifles. Watch this." Raising her rifle, she put a bullet into a post out on the desert about thirty yards from the gate. The next shot went into the ground twelve inches from the oldest boy's feet. They got the point of the demonstration. The oldest boy fired one last defiant arrow into the gate, then hopped on his pony and they all rode toward the hills.
"You could have gotten yourself killed, standing up like that." Tanner's craggy face pulled into an expression of anger and exasperation.
"They were kids."
"Kids with weapons. What did you say to them?"
Fox dropped down the ladder. "I told them they looked real cute in their paint."
"Well, hell. Looks like we missed all the excitement," Hanratty said, coming across the compound. "I wouldn't have minded taking me an Indian scalp."
Fox rounded on him and poked him hard in the chest with her finger. "Listen and hear me good, Hanratty. You, too, Brown. You don't fire at anyone until or unless I tell you to. That means Indians, whites, soldiers, or each other. It's clear that you don't know squat about the situation out here, so walk softly." Furious with the anger that seemed to erupt whenever an excuse arose, she glared up into Hanratty's tight expression. "White men don't take scalps, Hanratty."
"Some do."
"You're right," she said, curling her lip in disgust. "Let me rephrase this. Decent white men don't take scalps. Now let's set up camp."
After supper, no one went immediately to his bedroll. It had been a long tedious day, but the incident with the Indians left everyone too charged up and restless to sleep.
For a time Peaches played soft plaintive songs on his harmonica, then Jubal Brown told a tall tale about camping in the Georgia woods with an uncle when it started to rain frogs.
"Little pale frogs about this long," he finished, holding his fingers apart about two inches.
"I'll bet you believe in fairies, too," Hanratty said, hunching closer to the fire pit. "Cold tonight."
For several minutes Fox had been aware of Tanner regarding her across the fire with an intent expression. When he turned his full attention on something or som
eone, it was like nothing else existed. A tiny shiver ran up Fox's spine and she wet her lips.
"Where did you learn to speak Paiute?" he asked softly.
The question caused her gaze to sharpen. More often than not, she was asked where she had learned to speak Indian. But Tanner either knew or guessed that while the Indian nations shared some words in common, they each had their own language.
"The first time I crossed country to Denver, it took me a year. I spent some time with the Paiutes, the Shoshone, and the Utes, and learned to speak to them." Modesty wasn't one of her virtues so she didn't shrug off her accomplishment. "I'm good with languages."
"You speak Indian?" Brown asked, sounding impressed.
Fox looked pained. "I can speak to Paiutes, Shoshones, and Utes. If an Apache shows up, we're in trouble."
"Say something in Indian," Hanratty said.
The firelight made both men look worse than they had in daylight. Deep shadow darkened black swollen eyes, while a burst of flame made cuts and scrapes appear livid.
"If you had an Indian name, it would be Mean and Ugly," Fox said, speaking Shoshone. From the corner of her eye, she saw Peaches smile. He knew just enough to catch the drift of what she'd said. She winked at him.
"What did you say?" Hanratty demanded, looking from Fox to Peaches.
She stood and stretched. "I said it's been a long day and tomorrow will be, too. We'll go as far as the Sand Springs station."
In the morning they all inspected the arrows driven into the gate as they rode out of the adobe enclosure. Fox was glad that Hanratty hadn't been on the platform overlooking the front or there would have been some dead Paiute kids. Hanratty and Brown were hard men to like.
"We were lucky yesterday," Tanner said, riding up beside her leading Peaches's string of mules. When Fox lifted an eyebrow, he shrugged. "Mr. Hernandez didn't complain, but I could see his shoulder is troubling him."
Just when Fox thought she had Tanner figured, he did something or said something that showed her how wrong she was. She had decided he preferred to remain aloof, wanted to draw a line between himself and his employees. Now here he was doing Peaches's work, leading a string of mules.
"If Hanratty or Brown had been on the platform we were on"
Fox's eyes widened. This wasn't the first time he'd said the same thing she was thinking. What did that mean? Anything? When she slid him a glance, his expression was tight.
"You're carrying a lot of money," she said in case he was having second thoughts about hiring guards. Defending Hanratty and Brown wasn't a comfortable position, but Fox suspected the time would come when she'd be glad to have two extra guns present. "They're keeping up, doing their share of the work."
Tanner gave her an unreadable look then squinted against the grains of sand blowing on a sharp breeze. "How long will we be camping in abandoned pony express stations?"
"Until we reach Utah territory. Then the pony express stations turn north and we continue east."
"It's a smart choice." He spoke slowly as if he'd given the matter some thought. "If we'd been in the open last night, things might have gone differently."
"You aren't complaining that you're not getting your money's worth? That you could have found the stations on your own?" She wasn't sure if she was teasing or not.
"I'm getting my money's worth," he said firmly. A smile curved his lips. "Left to my own devices, I could wander around out here for days looking for the next station."
Fox laughed. "I doubt that, but it's nice of you to say so."
Tanner had weighty matters on his mind and it didn't surprise her that he seldom smiled. When he did, his face softened and his mouth relaxed. Those occasional smiles made Fox's scalp tingle and her mouth go dry, which annoyed her no end.
During the next two days, whenever the hours in the saddle turned dull and tedious, she tried to pin down what it was about Matthew Tanner that caused her body to respond in rebellious ways that she didn't welcome.
He was a different sort of man than she usually encountered. Better educated, better dressed, more mannerly. Confident enough that he could ask questions if he didn't know something. And he was willing to stand back and recognize Fox's expertise without appearing that it cost him anything to do so.
Moreover, Tanner seemed wealthy and his father even more so. Whenever Fox tried to grasp how much money fifty thousand dollars actually was, her brain froze. Last night she'd given Peaches a hand moving the coins, slinging a bag over her shoulder and wincing at the weight. The bags weighed almost twenty-five pounds apiece. Never in her life had Fox expected to handle that much money or know a man worth that much.
But the strange breathlessness that came over her when Tanner stood too near had nothing to do with money or education or manners. She suspected the reason was more about wide shoulders and sunburned hands and a lean muscled body and an intensity that sent shivers up her spine.
Which meant that she was as shallow as a pot lid, she thought with a sigh.
* * *
CHAPTER 5
In the morning Tanner could see his breath hanging in the chill air in front of his shaving mirror. Here at this altitude the nights were frigid and dawn sparkled across ground and boulders rimed with frost. Sound and scent sharpened in the cold air, and grits, fried ham, and strong coffee had never smelled as good.
After toweling his face, Tanner adjusted his collar and buttoned his shirt, pulled up his bracesor suspenders, as they called them out hereand donned his jacket. The heat of the campfire on his face and hands was welcome as he ate, the food as hot and delicious as he'd anticipated.
"Whoever made the coffee this morningit's especially good."
Peaches flashed a white-toothed smile. "Coffee's my specialty."
"It was cold last night," he said to Fox who sat staring into the fire with a surly expression. "Did you sleep well?"
"I hate people who are cheerful in the morning," she muttered, flicking him a glance and then glaring at Peaches.
"This is the best time of the day," Peaches said with a laugh.
"The hell it is ," Jubal Brown snapped. "You can say that only because you weren't up and down all night trading off the watch." Smothering a yawn, he reached for more coffee.
Morning might not be Fox's favorite time, but Tanner noticed that she had washed her face, braided her hair for the day, and she had already helped Peaches load the mules.
"I'm getting the idea that Nevada is a succession of mountain ranges separated by long bowl-shaped valleys. Is that correct?"
"You have to have conversation in the morning." For a minute he didn't think she would say any more, then she sighed. "If you crumpled a piece of paper that's what Nevada looks like. A succession of north/south ranges and valleys." Tilting her head, she squinted at the sky. "It's time to get moving. We'll lose a couple of hours when we reach the valley."
There wasn't much forage in the mountains, merely a few dry tufts between rock outcroppings. To satisfy the horses and mules, they would have to let them graze in the broad valley below. At this time of year the grass wasn't abundant even on the valley floors.
Today the descent was gradual and relatively non-eventful, with only one narrow cut through substantial rock walls that looked difficult for Fox and Peaches to negotiate since they were leading the mules. Their expertise was a pleasure to watch.
And then a cool enjoyable morning erupted into chaos quicker than Tanner would have believed possible. One moment he was gazing out at the wide bowl-shaped valley below, thinking it would be an easy crossing, the next minute he heard Fox and Peaches shouting and swearing.
Tanner watched it happen. The second mule in Fox's string balked at the incline. In rapid succession the twine broke between the mules as it was supposed to in a dangerous situation. Then the lead mule jerked the rope out of Fox's hand and her string was free and running toward the valley. In an eyeblink the string Peaches led also broke free and also trotted toward the valley floor. The mules reached the va
lley in time to scatter in all directions before Tanner and the others came off the mountainside and reined up hard.
Fox swore for a full minute then shook her head at Peaches. "Damn it! Any idea what spooked them?"
"Not a notion. Oh Lordy, look at that."
Tanner followed Peaches's frown and watched the money mule lie down and roll in the distant valley grass, then do it again.
Fox pulled her fingers down her throat. "She's trying to scrape off her load."
The mule succeeded. The top pack busted loose and dropped, but that wasn't the worst of it. When the mule pushed to her feet and trotted farther down the valley, gold coins bounced out of the pannier.
Not trusting his eyes, Tanner grabbed the spyglass from his saddlebags. Son of a bitch. The pannier and one of the bank bags had been pierced by the Indian boy's arrow. He knew about that. The hole had seemed harmless enough for the last couple of days, but it hadn't withstood the mule's rolling. The spyglass revealed that the hole was now a tear and leaking gold coins with every step the mule took.
"All right," Fox said after a minute. By now Tanner knew that she slapped her thigh with her hat when she was angry and frustrated. Sun blazed on her hair. "You and your men go after the money mule," she said to Tanner. "Me and Peaches will chase down the other five. If you finish first, come and give us a hand. Are you happy with that plan?"
At the moment he wasn't happy about anything. The damned mule was scattering twenty-dollar gold pieces over a wide area. "Let's get the mule first," he ordered Hanratty and Brown, "then we'll pick up the coins."
It took them forty-five minutes to corner and capture the money mule, and would have been impossible, in Tanner's opinion, if there hadn't been three of them doing it. At the end of the chase he was hot, sweating, and had decided that he'd never hated an animal as much as he hated that mule.
"I'd shoot the damned thing," Hanratty said, wiping his forehead with his bandanna, "except she'd figure out a way to get my gun before I could pull the fricking trigger."
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