Foxfire Bride (4 page)

"You keep the horse you trade for," he said with a shrug. "Aside from the ice, the deal you offered is acceptable."

Stretching his imagination, he tried to visualize what she'd look like if she were a traditional woman. But he couldn't do it. First, her clothing was loose enough that it was impossible to guess what kind of body she had under an oversized rough shirt and a vest that would have been too large for him. Then her face was tanned and her cheeks and lips chapped by cold winds. Finally, she had that mass of wild red hair and not enough hairpins to hold it in place. He doubted that she'd had a ladylike coiffure in years.

On the positive side of the scale, she had well-shaped eyebrows that were a shade darker than her hair. Her eyes were frosty but of an intriguing color that would appear blue in some lights, gray in others. Lips were something Tanner usually noticed, so he noted that Fox had a well-defined upper lip and a lower lip full enough to form a perfect pout. The thought made him smile. This wasn't a woman who did much pouting.

"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 manners, 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.