Not everyone regarded Hobbs Jennings with the loyalty and affection Tanner did, but in fifteen years Tanner had never heard Jennings referred to as a thieving son of a bitch. It was troubling to think such an individual was out there, probably working for the company. A man holding such strong negative feelings would be trouble sooner or later, At the least, he would breed discontent around him, at worst an insurrection could develop.
The dust opened ahead and for an instant he glimpsed Fox's long red braid, saw her glance back at the string of mules she led. He could argue all day and she would never reveal the name of the man who believed Hobbs Jennings was a thieving son of a bitch. He bit down on his back teeth as the dust closed around her. Stubbornness was not an attractive trait in a woman. But then, Fox had a multitude of traits that most people would condemn.
While he waited for another sight of her straight back and long braid, he considered the qualities he liked about her. She was self-reliant, that was obvious. Fate could plunk her down anywhere and Fox would survive and thrive. Her self-reliance went hand in hand with her independence. Fox made her own decisions, went her own way, and she didn't appear to care what anyone else thought. That in itself made her vastly different from the women Tanner had known.
She had a temper, but she was undoubtedly the bravest woman he'd met. And the most foolhardy and reckless, he thought, recalling how she'd punched Jubal Brown and doubled him over. She was lucky that Brown hadn't retaliated in kind, although Tanner suspected Fox had been ready for that possibility. Until he'd observed Fox in action, Tanner would have said with utter conviction that it was unthinkable for a woman to effectively incapacitate a man.
"Speak of the devil," he said softly as Fox rode toward him, turned, and came up on his right. She'd handed off the mules to Hanratty.
"There's a decision you need to make."
Leaning closer, he examined her face. "You have something on your cheeks and forehead." Something that gave her skin a yellowish tint.
She pursed her lips and he didn't know if she intended to respond. Finally she released a sigh. "It's Peaches's formula to prevent sunburn. I was doing fine with something he makes called Sesame Milk, but this morning he insisted I try this one. It's a mixture of egg yolk and honey and some other stuff that Peaches keeps secret."
The revelation that Fox used beauty treatments stunned him.
"I guess you think it's stupid to smear glop on my face to avoid sunburn."
"I've never known a woman who welcomed a sunburn." There weren't many trees out here in the Nevada wilderness. The cedars, pine, and junipers weren't shade trees by any stretch of the imagination. The only shade a person had was the brim of his hat, and that was seldom enough to block the sun entirely.
"I don't mind a little bit of tan, but I don't want to get much darker than I am now," she said, glaring between her horse's ears.
Right now her face had a golden glow that made her eyes seem more blue than gray. Tanner doubted Fox would ever have the milky white skin decreed by fashion. She would always have a touch of sun-gold on her skin and rose on her cheekbones. To Tanner's eyes, her vivid coloring made her more attractive than any milk-skinned woman he could think of.
"I didn't come here to discuss my fricking face," she said as if the subject made her angry.
"What did you want to ask me?" Talking to Fox was like walking across a field with buried traps ready to spring shut.
"I have a reason for not wanting to arrive in Denver with darkly tanned skin." Her chin came up and the flash in her eyes dared him to comment. "I'm not wearing egg yolk on my face out of vanity."
"There's nothing wrong with a little vanity." He had no idea what to say on this subject.
"I want to talk to you about the mining camp up ahead."
Thank God. Mining camps were something he knew about.
"I think we should stay two nights at the camp, but that's a decision you need to make."
Instantly he thought of the deadline given him by the kidnappers. "Why do you want to stay two nights?"
"We haven't had a rest in ten days. The animals could use a free day and so could all of us. There's a washhouse in the camp and a couple of rough eating spots, but the fare is better than cooking in the wild. And there's one or two oversized tents designated as saloons."
Everything Tanner owned needed washing, and the entire company smelled of horse, smoke, and sweat. She was right about the animals needing a day without the weight of saddles or packs.
"We're making good time," Fox added. "Wasting a day shouldn't affect our overall schedule."
The saloons concerned him. As far as Tanner was aware, Hanratty and Brown had obeyed his instructions about carrying no liquor on this journey, but neither had been happy about the prohibition. How much attraction would the saloons exert?
"All right," he reluctantly agreed.
"Good." Fox gave him a short nod. "We're packing tents. We'll set up on the outskirts of the camp."
At the midday break, Tanner spoke to Hanratty and Brown. "Drunk men don't make effective guards."
"That seems harsh, to deny us a chance to cut up a little."
It wasn't surprising that it was Brown who protested.
Hanratty focused on the money mule. "I agree that drunk ain't professional, but two drinks don't make a man drunk. How about that? We don't leave our cargo at the same time, and we don't have more than two drinks?"
"That's acceptable," Tanner agreed, speaking slowly. "But if you two leave the gold unguarded for one minute, you're fired. If either of you come back to camp drunk, you're fired. That's if I don't shoot you first. Is that understood?"
"Damn." Jubal's eyes sparkled. "First thing I want is a bath and a shave. They got any women in the camp?"
They rode into the mining camp in midafternoon. One of the first things Tanner noticed was three or four rough-looking women dressed in men's clothing. One led a mule packed high with prospector's provisions. Another moved tent to tent, selling pies out of a wheelbarrow. By comparison, Fox appeared the essence of femininity, he thought with a smile. Unlike these women, Fox had not cut her magnificent hair, her skin was tanned but smooth and clear. Seeing her from the back, swaying in her saddle, no one would mistake her for a male.
The camp was located along a river valley about a mile west of the steep canyon where most of the mining took place. Tanner's experienced eye noticed an abundance of native granite, and more important the quartz ledges that signaled the possibility of silver. He made a mental note to mention this spot to Hobbs Jennings as worthy of investigation and possible investment.
Dropping his gaze, he frowned at the money mule. At Fort Churchill he'd felt reasonably comfortable taking the gold into a populated area. But every soul in this camp was here for one reason only. To find gold or silver. If anyone suspected what was riding at the bottom of the money mule's pack
Fox chose a site at the far east side of the camp where the grass wasn't grazed out. After studying the sky she instructed Peaches to unpack the tents.
"Already done it, Missy." Peaches nodded to a pile of canvas and poles. "Goin' to snow, I'd say." He covered a cough and complained about the congestion he couldn't seem to shake. "Glad we ain't heading up around that canyon. I'd hate to get stuck in the mountains in a blizzard."
Newcomers attracted attention and Tanner noted they had drawn their share of interest. The residents of the small tent village would wonder if they were passing through or if more competition had arrived.
"Stick to the plan," he instructed Hanratty and Brown. "One of you always in camp. But don't be obvious about it. No sense advertising the fact that you're hired guards or that we're carrying something that requires guarding."
"We aren't stupid," Hanratty said. He spit on the ground next to the tent he had erected. "I'll take the first watch. The rest of you can go where you will." He gave Jubal Brown a long stare. "You be back here in three hours at the latest, or there'll be consequences."
Brown's
smirk suggested he didn't much care, but he nodded agreement before setting off immediately toward the tinny music drifting out of a long saloon tent.
"I'll keep Mr. Hanratty company," Peaches decided, setting up the coffeepot. "I think I'd rather visit the washhouse tomorrow. I suspect I'll be craving heat come morning. The temperature's dropping by the minute. Do you play chess?" he asked Hanratty.
"I'd rather play poker."
"Not my preference. Checkers?"
Tanner left them to sort out their entertainment and checked on the gold coins. The bags were covered by a saddle blanket beneath his saddle. They seemed safe enough, especially with Hanratty facing them.
"Well," he said to Fox, gazing down at her. "I think I'll buy one of those pies that woman is selling and eat it during a long soak at the washhouse. Are you heading that way?"
She kept her gaze on the animals, tethered to a line long enough to allow ample grazing. "I was thinking about it." She slid him a look. "Thinking about a pie, too."
"I see this coming. You want me to buy you a pie."
"And we should bring one back to Peaches. I never saw a man like pies the way Peaches does. Especially if it turns out to be a dried apple pie."
"I have an idea that you want me to pay for your bath, too."
Her chin lifted. "Well, you did agree to pay all expenses." When she turned, her eyes sparkled with the pleasure of taking advantage of him. "Hey, Hanratty," she called. "Do you like pies? Seems that Mr. Tanner is in a generous mood."
"I like pies well enough." Hanratty watched Peaches set up the checkerboard. "I always play black, I don't like the red pieces."
Restraining a smile, Tanner fell into step beside her. "It occurs to me that it pleasures you to spend my money."
"That it does," she said, holding out her poncho and inspecting it. "Laundry is also a legitimate expense."
They didn't speak again until after Tanner had paid the washhouse attendant. "I guess I'll see you later." He'd never taken a female to a washhouse before, hadn't realized how awkward such an intimacy would feel. Circles of color rose in Fox's cheeks, then she gave him a half wave like she was having troubling thoughts, too. Frowning, he watched her pause in the doorway of the women's side and stare at him over her shoulder before she stepped inside.
Two things struck him once he was settled in a steaming tub. He'd forgotten to buy the pies, and Fox was naked on the other side of the wall. Hunger tightened his stomach, but it wasn't hunger for a pie.
He supposed it was human nature for a man to be drawn to the wrong woman. Maybe that explained his growing feelings for Fox. Unlikely attractions had been happening since mankind inhabited caves.
No matter how much he thought about it, Tanner could not completely account for why he was so powerfully attracted. It explained nothing to say that Fox was different from the ladies he ordinarily encountered. And his interest ran deeper than simple lust, although lust was certainly present and strong. He'd spent a lot of hours remembering the sun shining through her shirt and casting her full breasts in silhouette.
Fox amused him, annoyed him, roused feelings of respect and admiration and irritation.
And she was totally wrong for a man born into money and prominence, educated in the east, and expected to marry within his own social class. Having spent a lifetime failing to measure up to his father's expectations, Tanner had long ago decided that when it came time to choose a wife, he would restrict his courtship to young ladies his father approved. His relationship with his father was awkward enough without adding a wife who also didn't measure up.
For a long moment he gazed at the washhouse wall separating the men's side from the women's side. There could be no possible future with Fox, and he respected her too much to engage in a short-term dalliance, assuming she was even willing.
Brooding, he shouted at the attendant to bring him some whiskey.
On the women's side, Fox eased into water hot enough to turn her skin bright pink. Once she was settled, she listened for any sounds from the men's side but didn't hear anything.
The idea of Tanner sitting bare-butt naked in a tub not ten feet away made her feel peculiar inside. She liked men with hair on their chests and legs and wondered how it was with Tanner. Lord. Picturing him sent a quiver down her spine.
"Oh, stop it," she snapped, feeling exasperated. Every thought of Tanner was a thought wasted. Worse, thinking about him made her feel inadequate. He was the king on the chessboard, and she was a lowly pawn. The two didn't usually come in contact.
If Tanner did happen to take an interest, Fox had no illusions as to what that meant. His interest would last only as long as the journey. Knowing that she would be temporary in his life if she submitted what would that make her? She knew damned well what it would make her.
Well, most likely she was just woolgathering. Matthew Tanner wasn't drawn to someone like her. And she had better sense than to let some man use her for a few weeks then toss her away.
Still she wondered if he had hair on his chest and legs. And the future didn't matter because her future was a hangman's rope.
"Damn it."
After a while she summoned the courage to pick up the hand mirror on a table next to the tub.
Disappointment tugged her lips. As usual, she didn't look like she expected to look.
But she decided, after a thorough inspection, she looked better than she had the last time she'd peered into a mirror. Her cheeks didn't appear as red and raw, and her lips weren't peeling. Peaches's sun protection must be working because she wasn't burned and didn't appear as tanned as she ordinarily did after nearly two weeks in the sun.
But she would never be a beauty, she decided, frowning into the mirror. Her mouth was too wide, her brows too dark. She was too strong-featured. Her skin would never be cream-colored, she had freckles, and she didn't know how to create a fancy hairdo. She wasn't dainty and graceful, had no idea how to form a come-hither look or a pretty pout. She would rather have set her boots on fire than force herself into a corset.
Putting down the mirror, she lit a cigar and blew smoke at the wall separating the women from the men. A sigh of resignation dropped her shoulders.
For the first time in her life, Fox wished she was beautiful, wished it with all her heart.
* * *
CHAPTER 7
Tanner waited until Fox emerged from the women's side, her fiery hair plaited into a wet braid and smelling of coarse soap. Silently he decided that she didn't need whatever beauty routine she practiced. A freshly scrubbed face suited her.
She arched an eyebrow. "I thought you'd be gone by now."
"I promised you a pie," he reminded her as they headed toward the grassy lane that served as a street. "Or" He recalled her tossing back a whiskey at Jack's Bar in Carson. "Would you prefer a drink?"
"What is this, a test? I don't drink when I'm working." This time she sent him a glare. "Seems like you should know that."
Actually, he did. "Just thought I'd ask."
Deliberately, Tanner maintained an arm's length between them. Considering the heated images he'd been having mere minutes ago, avoiding any accidental brush against her seemed a prudent choice.
Determined not to think about Fox's soapy clean skin, he turned his attention to the camp. There wasn't much to see. One mining camp was the same as another, a ramshackle collection of tents and campfires surrounding a central area that contained the essentials. A couple of saloons, an outfitting store, a spot for the assayer, and usually a sectioned tent for a handful of whores.
Miners also were much the same, sometimes dreamers, sometimes desperate, never pleased to see newcomers arrive at the pickings.
No one offered a greeting as he and Fox walked through the camp. Even the pie lady regarded them suspiciously. "Staying or passing through?" she asked, wiping her hands on a pair of mended trousers. When she learned they weren't staying, her expression eased. "Then I'll take a dollar off the price of a pie. You can have one for fifty cents
."
"It's robbery at thirty cents," Fox sniffed, "but that's all we'll pay."
"If it wasn't the end of the day, I'd spit on you and send you off with your belly growling." The pie lady looked Fox up and down with interest. "But it's time to go home and fix supper so I'll give you a pie for thirty-five cents."
"Thirty, not a penny more."
"I'm glad you're not staying," the pie lady said to Fox. To Tanner's surprise, the two women smiled at each other.
After Tanner paid for four small pies, he and Fox leaned up against a hitching post to eat theirs, watching the western sky flare into twilight streaks of gold, silver, and purple. This was a land of big skies that left a man feeling exposed and smaller than he'd felt himself to be.
"Mine's sour cream and raisin," Fox said. "What did you get?"
Tanner watched her run her tongue over her upper lip, licking at a fleck of rilling. He swallowed and made himself look back at the sky. "I've got dried peach."
"Peach! No wonder the pie lady charged the earth. Dried peaches are hard to come by, and expensive, too."
"Can you make pies?" he asked curiously. A woman who could speak Paiute and outshoot a man didn't strike him as a woman who would be content to stand in a hot kitchen and stir up a pie.
She pressed her lips together and red circles appeared on her cheeks. "No," she said finally, apparently hating to admit it. "I can cook ordinary things, but nothing fancy. The only baking I do is make biscuits."
"Sounds like that's good enough."
"It'd be nice to have a pie or a cake once in a while, but Peaches doesn't know how to bake so I don't either." Her chin came up. "I could learn. There's nothing I can't learn. I've just never felt a hankering to learn baking."
They finished the pies in silence then Tanner wiped his hands on his bandanna. "It's getting dark." And a sharp chill blew on the breeze. Peaches might be right about snow tonight. Tanner picked up the pies for Peaches and Hanratty and turned toward their campsite.
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