Beaming, Peaches came forward to take the animals. "Knew you'd find those bastards," he said to Fox. Then he spotted the blood on her coat and a frown flew to her ear. "While I'm taking care of the horses, you find my doctor kit."
"All I need is some sleep."
After giving his reins to Peaches, Tanner studied his guards coldly. Both men looked as mauled as they had after the fight at Fort Churchill. Cuts, knuckle scrapes, and Jubal Brown had a black eye. From the looks of them, Brown had taken the worst of it.
"No thanks to either of you, we retrieved the cargo." Hanratty and Brown started to talk at once, but Tanner held up a hand. "From now on, you both stay with the cargo. No more going into any town we camp near. No more taking turns for some time off. You were hired as guards and that is your only concern. So far I don't see either of you taking that responsibility as seriously as I'm paying you to."
"Anybody can be jumped by bandits," Hanratty insisted hotly. He turned a stare on Jubal Brown. "If you'd come back when you were supposed to, things would have gone differently."
"Oh yeah?" Brown sneered. "Are you claiming that you would have stayed here and refused your turn up at the saloons?"
"Do you want another beating?" Hanratty threatened with a snarl. "If you do, I'm ready."
Tanner gazed at them with disgust. "If you've changed your mind about this job, or if it's too much for you, you can both leave right now. If you stay, I expect you to earn your pay." His eyes glittered. "That means this cargo never leaves your sight. Do you both understand that?"
They stared at him, angry, embarrassed by the incident, resentful.
"I need a wash," Jubal Brown said. "What am I supposed to do? Take the cargo with me to the wash-house?"
Tanner bit down on his back teeth. "You can have your wash." He saw Hanratty still staring and realized the conditions he'd set were too restrictive.
"Both of you need a wash. Hanratty goes first. When a reason arises that absolutely requires one of you to leave the campsite, you may do so if Fox or myself is here to take your place. There should be a least two men guarding the cargo at all times. Mr. Hernandez is not a guard."
Later, after having a bite to eat and after watching Peaches wash and treat Fox's ear before she crawled into her small tent, Tanner realized he'd lumped her in as one of the two "men" authorized to guard the gold.
As he knew, she was anything but a man. Frowning, he sipped his coffee and stared at her tent. Logic insisted it was only his imagination, but he could swear that he'd felt the rounded fullness of her breasts through the material of her heavy coat. And the blankets between them had not prevented a painful erection when her fanny moved up against him. He didn't know if she'd been oblivious to the situation, or if she'd noticed but was determined to politely ignore his loss of control.
One thing he did know: Holding Fox in his arms, smelling the soapy warm scent of her skin, had lifted his fascination for her to another degree. Underneath that rough exterior was a woman in hiding and she had seized his imagination.
Jubal Brown sidled over and sat down beside him, holding out a cigar. "The man I won these off of said they came all the way from New York City."
"Thank you." Tanner lit the cigar, nodded, then waited to hear what was on Brown's mind.
"She's missing part of her ear," Brown said, tilting his chin toward Fox's tent. "She get shot?"
Tanner nodded, his jaw stiff. "It wouldn't have happened if you and Hanratty had done your job."
"How much of a Yankee are you?"
"I'm not part of your war, Brown. I'm not even very interested in it. Whatever happens is going to happen a couple thousand miles from here."
"But you sympathize with the Union."
"I'd hate to see this land broken into two countries. If that happens, the west will probably form a separate country, too. I think that's wrong. I think America will be stronger as one country."
"But you don't believe that enough to put on a uniform and fight."
Tanner's eyes narrowed and his mouth went hard. "The Union needs gold and silver to finance this war. Keeping the mines working is my contribution."
Brown blew a smoke ring in the direction of Tanner's saddle. "Getting paid pretty well for that contribution, seems to me."
"If you're trying to say something, just say it."
"I want to know the truth about that gold." Brown's voice went low and coarse. " 'Cause what you said about finances is true. Both sides need every cent they can get. It occurs to me that fifty thousand dollars would buy a lot of Union horses and uniforms."
"You think I'm taking this gold to Denver to give it to the Union?" His smile didn't reach his eyes. "I almost wish that were true. But it isn't. The gold is ransom money."
"That's what you say"
Standing, Tanner flipped the cigar away and gave Jubal Brown a cold glance. "If you can't trust my word, then walk out of here right now." Not looking back, he moved closer to the fire and sat on a stump across from Peaches. "How bad was her ear?"
"Not too bad. Folks don't need earlobes anyway. Don't serve any purpose that I can think of." Peaches smiled down at the saddle blanket he was mending. "I take it those two outlaws aren't going to steal any more gold?"
"You take it right." Tanner helped himself to the coffee on the fire, hoping it would keep him awake until dark. "What happened between Hanratty and Brown?"
"Mr. Hanratty was not pleased by the robbery or by being left behind. When Mr. Brown returned to camp, there was a discussion over who was to blame for the turn of events." Peaches lifted the blanket to his mouth and bit off the thread. "After the fight, Mr. Hanratty went into town, if you can call it that, and didn't return until this morning. In a way, I'm glad the fight happened. It's been coming."
Tanner agreed. Maybe now the two would settle down and stop sniping at each other. If they stayed on the job. "Do you think either of them will quit?" he asked Peaches curiously.
"Mr. Brown will stay because he's heading east anyway. Mr. Hanratty will stay because he isn't going to allow Mr. Brown to look like the better man."
Those were Tanner's thoughts in a nutshell. "How are you feeling?"
The old man's head jerked upward and Tanner wondered if he'd offered offense. "I'm fine," Peaches said shortly. "Why wouldn't I be?"
"You look tired. And the chest congestion isn't clearing up." Until today, Tanner had tended to forget Peaches's age, but today Peaches appeared less vigorous than he ordinarily did.
" 'Course I'm tired, after being up most of the night worrying." Peaches turned his head toward Fox's tent.
"There wasn't much to worry about. Those outlaws didn't stand a chance. One of them got off a wild shot as he went down, but aside from that Fox was never really in danger." He put a shine on the story for Peaches, but not by much.
Peaches met his eyes. "I wasn't worried about outlaws, Mr. Tanner."
"Then what?"
Peaches didn't speak for a full minute. "If you look at her or listen to her, you'd think nothing could ever pierce that armor. You'd think there's nothing inside her that's soft enough to crack or break. But you'd be wrong."
Tanner's brow lifted. He hadn't anticipated this.
"A man like you, I 'spect you're used to sophisticated ladies with enough experience to recognize the difference between flattery and courting. I 'spect you're used to enjoying a woman and walking away without a backward glance. I 'spect you never have to worry 'bout killing a woman inside her mind. And that's fine as long as you stick to professional ladies or experienced ladies of your own kind."
Tanner stared. Peaches was warning him away from Fox, reminding him that Fox wasn't his kind, telling him not to break her heart or some such thing.
"Put your mind at ease, Mr. Hernandez," he said gruffly. "I admire and respect Fox but that's as far as it goes."
"I'm not worried about your side of it."
There was nothing to say to that, so he walked out to check on the horses and mules.
&n
bsp; Something had changed last night. The result was he and Fox were easier, more comfortable with each other. Yes, he'd had that moment in the tent of wanting her, but there was more to last night than the strong sexual acceleration.
Still, he believed he understood what Peaches was saying. Fox really wasn't his kind of woman, he couldn't argue that point. Leaning against the side of her mustang, he shook his head and smiled, imagining himself introducing Fox to his father. His father would be shocked. The society his father moved in would never accept Fox into their midst. She would be a scandal.
Tanner couldn't possibly pursue Fox for anything more than a brief trip-long fancy. And that wasn't fair to her, he understood that without Peaches having to raise the point. Regrettably, Fox wasn't suitable for anything more.
The problem was he hadn't been drawn this strongly to any woman, ever. The women he might be expected to wed were pale shadows, and he'd thought so before he met Fox. Now that he knew Fox existed, he couldn't conceive of himself spending an evening in bland conversation with a pastel creature who stood ready to faint at the sight of a blood drop or at the hint of a body part.
So where did that leave him? Bored with his own kind, as Peaches phrased it, and aware that the unique and interesting and challenging women were totally unsuitable for a man of his background and family.
A man like Matthew Tanner didn't bring home a woman who could shoot an outlaw dead, then calmly sit down and drink the outlaw's coffee and sleep in his tent.
He shook his head and kicked at the dirt. Fox was some kind of woman, all right. Unfortunately, they lived in different worlds.
* * *
CHAPTER 9
No one was happy.
The fistfight between Hanratty and Brown did not settle their competitiveness as Fox had hoped it might. If anything, they both seemed determined to needle each other more than before. Even Peaches the eternal optimist seemed to have a bee in his bonnet about something. He'd kept to himself the past two nights, turning aside any offers for chess or checkers. When Fox caught him watching her, his expression was sober and concerned but he wouldn't explain himself even after she badgered him to tell her why he was looking at her like he was worried that she was getting sick.
The biggest puzzle was Tanner. Fox had returned from their raid on the outlaws feeling as if she and Tanner had forged a new understanding. They had argued; they had laughed. They had each let their guard down. They had communicated in a manner they had been unable to do before. She'd returned to their campsite feeling comfortable with and about Matthew Tanner, and she had liked that feeling as much as she liked remembering his arm pulling her in close to his body.
By the next morning everything had changed. And that stung. Fox had expected their camaraderie to continue. She had expected to enjoy Tanner's company on the trail. But it didn't happen that way.
Granted, Fox was not good company immediately after waking, but until now Tanner had tried to be. Yet the last two mornings he'd been as surly and unapproachable as Fox.
On this stretch of terrain the going was hard. Steep canyons blocked their path and narrow passes appeared that demanded single-file travel. There were, however, valleys and plateaus where Fox could have ridden beside Tanner for a bit of conversation had he been willing. To her surprise, he'd been cool and unwelcoming. At the midday break he spent the hour with Hanratty and Brown, ignoring Fox as if he'd forgotten she was present. In the evenings he sat close to the firelight, withdrawing into a book and turning aside any attempts at conversation.
On the third night out of the mining camp, Fox halted early enough to allow Hanratty to hunt for fresh meat. Before he rode out, he tossed Jubal Brown a triumphant smirk.
"How come you sent him?" Brown inquired, swinging off his horse and glaring after the coil of dust that followed Hanratty. "Is it because I got eliminated from the shooting contest? I was just having a bad day."
"You'd complain if I sent you, and you'd complain if I didn't," Fox snapped, handing Peaches her reins. She would like to have sent Brown off to gather piñon nuts, to get him out of camp and away from her, but it was too early in the year for nuts. "Do you think you could get a fire started without grousing about it?"
At this altitude the sun felt thin and weak. Drifts of snow lingered under rock overhangs and vegetation was sparse. On the positive side, the spring Fox remembered was running and the water was clear and as sweet as any they'd had so far.
"Thank you," she said, extending her hands to the fire that Brown finally coaxed to life. God forbid he should start the coffee. "Remind me," she said, her lips pulling down. "How many servants did you have when you were growing up?"
"No sense getting pissy at me because you've had a falling out with your gentleman friend."
Fox wanted to punch the sly smile off his face for the sheer pleasure of hitting someone. Right now, Jubal Brown was the someone she most wanted to hit.
Taking her time, she poured water from a bucket into the coffeepot, then added grounds. "I don't know what the hell you're talking about so just shut up." But of course she did. And it made her angrier to learn she wasn't the only one to notice Tanner's coolness.
Lifting her head, she scanned the campsite and finally spotted Tanner helping Peaches unload the mules. The sight irritated her. Tanner should have put Brown to the task rather than doing it himself.
"Who's cooking tonight?" Brown crossed his arms over his chest and adjusted his back against his saddle. His hat brim was pulled low and Fox couldn't see his eyes.
"I think it's my turn." Peeling onions and potatoes would give her something to occupy her hands other than mending, which she'd told herself she needed to do soon. She'd noticed a couple of loose buttons and a tear in her favorite shirt. "So don't talk to me. I don't like to talk while I'm cooking."
"Tell me what you're going to cook, then I'll shut up."
"I'll cook whatever Hanratty brings back." While she waited she could start peeling the onions and potatoes, and rolling out some biscuits.
"Seems we're making good time the last few days," Peaches remarked, settling down nearby to repair Tanner's bridle.
Fox didn't see where Tanner had gone. "I was glad to find this campsite, it's been a while since I was here last. We'd have lost time if I'd wound up a bit north at the alkali flats."
"I swear I don't know how you do it, Missy, but somehow you manage to find the passes that will save us from having to cross the summits of some mighty tall peaks. How high are we now? About eight thousand feet? That's as high as I want to go."
Fox scraped the peelings into a pile that she would bury later along with any leavings from supper. "AH right, what's on your mind?"
Peaches blinked innocently. "What makes you think I got anything on my mind?"
"You don't pass out compliments unless it's to soften up a person for something that person isn't going to like to hear." She pressed the open end of a coffee cup on the biscuit dough she'd rolled out, then slapped the round on a baking sheet. "So?"
Late afternoon sunlight slanted over the peaks behind them, shimmering in a last burst of light and warmth. Fox remembered Peaches looking glossy and vigorous in this kind of light, but today his skin looked dull and the wrinkles seemed more prominent.
"Hey, old man," she said in a soft voice. "How are you feeling?"
A frown of indignation tugged his eyebrows. "I'm at the top of the cream, Missy. Not a thing wrong here that a good night's sleep won't cure."
"Then I hope you catch a good night's sleep," she said after a minute. Before she let herself go down for the night, she always checked on Peaches, and thus far she hadn't noticed that he'd experienced any problem going to sleep. She studied the tone of his skin and the slope of his shoulders and decided that one of the younger men would lead Peaches's string of mules for a few days. "So what's on your mind? Why've you been looking at me like you're seeing something no one else does?"
"Well, you know I don't agree with what you're planning to do whe
n we reach Denver." He held the bridle closer to his eyes and squinted. "And you know I was hoping something would happen on this journey to change your mind."
Fox rolled her eyes toward the sky. "I bought you spectacles not two months ago. And I know I packed them in your saddlebags. Now, why aren't you wearing them?"
"Has anything happened to change your mind about what you're planning to do in Denver?"
"No." As soon as she finished rolling out the biscuits, she'd search for his spectacles.
"You sure about that, Missy?"
She knew what he was talking about and heat flooded her cheeks. Irritated, she flipped her braid over her shoulder. "Nothing's going on that a preacher couldn't watch."
"Uh huh." Lifting the hem of his shirt, he polished the bridle buckles. "Remember when we lived with your mother's cousin?"
"I wish I didn't, but I do." The only thing good about that experience had been meeting Peaches.
"Remember when Miz Wilson ordered you to stir up a cake or a batch of cookies? And then when they were baked, you weren't allowed to eat any."
Fox dusted flour off her hands. "What's the point of this?"
"It hurts to touch, smell, and work with something you can't have. Remember?"
She met his level gaze and held it for a long moment. "Just once I'd like to have something that I really want," she said in a low voice. "I don't want it forever and all time, I know that's beyond reach. But just for a little while"
"Would one bite of the cookie have satisfied you? Or would learning how it tasted have made not having more even worse?"
Tanner returned to camp, examining a chunk of rock in his hand. Looking up, he nodded at them then headed toward the tents they had set up to make the night a little warmer.
"I don't know," Fox whispered, watching the way he walked, the swing of his hips and shoulders. "I just know I want this cookie even if it's only a small taste."
Peaches pushed to his feet and looked down at the bridle, then he sighed and squeezed Fox's shoulder before he left to check on the horses and mules.
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