Fireblossom (8 page)

Susan O'Hara turned to face her granddaughter, her pretty gown of violet silk covered by a long blue-checked apron that was dusted with flour. "I longed to do a bit of exploring on my own, to tell you the truth. Wang Chee was kind enough to take me while you were outside in your new garden. I made the acquaintance of young Peter Gushurst, the grocer. He had treasures that he hadn't put on the shelves, and he told me about other shopkeepers who are selling produce and jam and baked goods." She swept a hand sideways, indicating her purchases.

Maddie followed her gesture with a puzzled frown. There was a bowl of succulent, fragrant strawberries, which Gramma Susan had announced would be wedded with fresh-baked buttermilk biscuits and topped with rich cream. She'd gotten hold of some game birds, now plucked and cleaned. They were waiting in a pan to roast in the wood-fired oven. There was a basket of string beans and carrots, and several young cucumbers formed a pyramid on the table.

"I bought some rice, which I thought would taste good with gravy," Susan was saying while snapping the ends off the beans. "They eat differently out here but that's to be expected. Certainly we can't buy the same variety of foods, yet I was surprised to find canned goods and fresh herbs. I bought some lovely-looking brandied peaches, and a fine bottle of sparkling catawba wine to accompany our meal."

"Gramma Susan, are you simply in a cooking mood, or is there more to this?" Madeleine had spent the past two hours working on plans for her flower garden, but now she let them go. Her indefatigable grandmother was up to something.

"Perhaps I have a surprise for you all," Susan said, with a secret smile, as she slowly turned her head and gazed out the window. "Indulge me, my darling."

"Oh, Gramma, how can you be so—so
high-spirited?
The only source of excitement in my life at this moment is the prospect of my seedlings flourishing during the next fortnight! I confess, I begin to wish I had never come here. Benjamin is always off running wild with that other little boy, and I don't know how to stop that—"

"Maddie, he's a little boy himself! It's summer. What would you have him do besides play in the sunshine? Sit indoors and read
Gulliver's Travels?"

Her green eyes were beginning to flash. "Now that you mention it, that's an excellent idea! And what about Father? We came out here to be with him, yet he seems to make appearances in his own house just to be polite! I thought that he
needed me...." She stared at the strawberries and defiantly popped one into her mouth.

"What sort of attitude is that? Why, I thought that you were stronger than that—stronger and more resourceful. You're nearly a grown woman now and you must know that you can't look to a person or a town to make you happy!"

Maddie sighed. "I would be willing to give this
town a fair chance if Deadwood weren't inhabited by barbarians! Honestly, every time I've ventured down the hill I've been leered at by the most repulsive men. Even the placer miners Father pays stare and call out to me and—" She turned away, upset by her own loss of composure.

Susan O'Hara came around the worktable to embrace her. "Don't despair, my darling. Wait a bit; give Deadwood a chance. It's nothing like Philadelphia, I'll admit that, but I believe in adventure." She kissed her flushed cheek. "Now then, I'll give you a hint regarding my surprise, just to lift your spirits. Everyone in Deadwood isn't a barbarian. I've invited someone to join us for supper tonight, someone I think we'll all enjoy entertaining."

"Entertaining?" Maddie echoed faintly. "But the house isn't fit for guests. I don't see how—"

"Nonsense! We have fine food and wonderful company to offer. However, you could unpack that last trunk of your mother's things. There's plenty of time to hang a few pictures, to spread a lace cloth over the table, to arrange her needlepoint pillows on the settee... and don't forget the silver service and Colleen's good china." Susan nodded briskly. "You are far more accomplished at such niceties than I and hardly need
my
advice. I'll leave you to it."

"But I'll need a bath—and my hair—and what shall I wear?" Maddie exclaimed, staring down in horror at her dust-covered calico dress.

"No need to fret. We've hours to prepare." The picture of serenity, Susan returned to her string beans. "Everything will be just fine."

It was exciting beyond words to anticipate a real dinner party, with a real guest. Perhaps there really was society in Deadwood after all, and her dear Gramma had discovered one of its members! Maddie was in a near panic, mentally making lists and wondering how she could ever do all that was necessary in a few short hours. The trunk; that would come first! Her heart began to pound with anticipation as she hurried off to find it. So great was her pleasure that she forgot to ask or even wonder about the identity of the mystery guest.

* * *

"You!"

When Madeleine opened the front door, pink-cheeked with excitement, she couldn't suppress an exclamation of shock at the sight of Fox. Ever since their first meeting, she had tried to block the unsettling memory of him from her mind. Now he had returned just when their first dinner guest was due and his timing couldn't be worse.

"Miss Avery," he said, sweeping off his hat and smiling into her eyes, "may I say that your beauty does this humble town great honor?"

"Please, do not," she replied, blocking the doorway.

"Sir, I am sorry to be blunt but I must tell you that we are expecting a distinguished dinner guest, and—"

"Fox!" Susan O'Hara emerged from the kitchen, having removed her apron, and warmly extended her hands to him. "Goodness, how splendid you look!"

A wry smile crept over his mouth as he glanced down at the Prince Albert frock coat, starched white collar, pressed gray trousers, and expertly knotted black silk tie he had donned for the occasion. The formal clothing only served to accentuate his broad shoulders and powerful physique. "It's kind of you to say so, Mrs. O'Hara, but I sense that your granddaughter remains unconvinced."

His ironic tone and the gleam in his eyes were not lost on Maddie. Before she could think she retorted, "Perhaps that's because I realize that a lot of fancy decoration is worthless if it's covering up something—or
someone—
that is crude and—"

"Madeleine Avery!" Gramma Susan broke in, aghast. "Never have I heard you display such a shocking lack of manners. What would your mother say if she could hear you?"

Blushing profusely, she murmured, "You are right, Gramma, that was inexcusable. I don't know what came over me. Mr. Fox, please accept my apology." She couldn't look at him, though, and wondered why he lingered when he knew they had other plans.

"Apology accepted, of course." As if reading her mind, Fox turned to his elderly hostess and cocked an eyebrow. "Your granddaughter is expecting a very important dinner guest. Is there someone else?"

"Certainly not!" Susan shook her head. "Pay no attention to Maddie; she must not be feeling well. Now then, do come in. I'm so pleased that you were able to join us."

As she took in the truth of the situation unfolding in her own parlor, Maddie wished the floor could open up and swallow her. Fortunately, distraction appeared when her father and Benjamin entered the room. He looked grumpy in his little blue suit and the shoes he'd worn to church in Philadelphia. They were pinching him now, and his pants were too small, but his hair was neatly parted in the middle and slicked down, and he even wore a paper collar. The instant he recognized Fox, the boy's freckles seemed to pop out from his suddenly white face.

"What are
you
doing here?" he cried.

"Fox is our guest for supper tonight, and I trust that you'll remember your manners," Gramma Susan said, with a threatening glance. She turned to her son-in-law. "Stephen, I would like you to meet Fox Daniel. Fox, this is my son-in-law, Stephen Avery."

As the two men shook hands and exchanged pleasantries, Fox said quickly, "Please, everyone just call me Fox. I like my life as simple as possible these days."

Susan and Maddie had converted a corner of the parlor into a dining area. Covered with Colleen's lace cloth, the creaking drop-leaf table was made even more charming by a Tucker porcelain vase filled with wild daisies, orange wood lilies, and delicate blue harebells. Earlier, Madeleine had unpacked the china and set each place with loving care. Many of the treasures she had grown up with had been acquired by her great-grandfather Lion during his days as a sea captain during the China trade. So tonight the table was set with green-and-white Cantonese dishes, silver flatware, and fresh linen napkins. Long white tapers flickered in carved silver candlesticks. The effect was so lovely that Maddie might have been able to pretend that they were not in Deadwood at all, just for these few hours—if their dinner guest had been anyone else.

"Ah," Stephen murmured in bemusement as they approached the table, "I see that my daughter has been toiling diligently this afternoon. I had no idea that you had brought so many of your mother's things, Madeleine. Apparently my instructions about packing sparingly were ignored."

Maddie flushed. Her father didn't know the half of it. There were still books, quilts, and other assorted knick-knacks that she had yet to unpack.

"Don't spoil the few pleasures left to her, Stephen," Susan O'Hara said in a quiet, firm tone. "She's Colleen's daughter, and you couldn't expect her to change into some sort of female bullwhacker just because she's moved West."

"God forbid," Stephen replied, laughing. "No, we certainly couldn't have that!"

They took their chairs, with Fox seated between Stephen and Susan, across from the two Avery offspring. As Wang Chee appeared to pour wine and serve a cold julienne soup, Fox stole a leisurely sidelong gaze at Madeleine Avery. She was worked up, aside from the shock of his presence—worked up by the excitement of an
occasion.
When she looked at the table, which she had created with unerring good taste, her eyes were agleam with pride and pleasure.

Fox took a sip of wine and decided that the table and the appealing food could not compare to Maddie's own radiant loveliness. It was jarring to encounter such a woman in a town like Deadwood, saturated as it was with the worst sort of men who chose to live raucously, without the finer influence of women. Fox understood how Stephen Avery had come to bring his children here, but it still seemed crazy. Maddie was a woman, yet whom could she befriend in this wild place? Was she destined to remain a virtual prisoner in this house, fussing with her china and polishing her silver and reading books about the gentler life she'd been bred to expect?

"Is something wrong, sir?" Maddie inquired suddenly. Had she discerned a glint of pity in his eyes?

"On the contrary." Fox gave her a disarming smile. "I can't pretend to be an expert on gentlewomen, Miss Avery, but I was thinking that it's a rare pleasure for someone like me to be sharing a meal with a true lady like you." He paused, then dared to continue, "And, although you may not believe I am sincere, I will tell you all the same that you are the most
beautiful lady I have ever seen."

In return she eyed him suspiciously, even if inwardly she basked in the flattery. What hopes she'd had for this evening! The parlor and the dining table had been as perfect as she could make them before she'd gone to bathe and dress. Finally, minutes before Fox had knocked at the door, she had stood in front of the cracked full-length mirror and known that she was very nearly as lovely as she had ever looked. Her green-and-white striped taffeta gown had been purchased a year ago to wear to a friend's Society Hill wedding, and it suited her perfectly. The cut of the gown accented her tiny waist and high breasts, while at her neck flared a ruffled collar, narrowly edged in green, to pick up the vivid hue of her thick-lashed eyes and set off her upswept golden-red curls.

All afternoon Maddie had dreamed of making a good impression. Now, she found it hard not to warm to Fox's compliments.

But she would not like him. He'd burst too abruptly into her life and his frank, amused attitude was distinctly unsettling. Whenever he was near, Maddie's heart beat too fast and she felt anxious.

Benjamin pouted with her, but by the time they were eating game hens with cherry sauce, Maddie sensed that her little brother was thawing. After all, Gramma Susan seemed positively smitten with this overbearing stranger, and even their father was chatting with Fox as if they were old friends.

After the two men had exchanged facts pertaining to the length of time they'd been in the Hills and the general reasons they were there (Fox cited gold and adventure, an all-purpose answer), Stephen said abruptly, "Young man, I don't know how much time you've spent in the West, but you must be aware that these Hills are still Indian land, strictly speaking. Do you have an opinion on the Laramie Treaty of 1868, or what the Sioux Indians are having to suffer to satisfy our lust for gold and more land?"

Fox nearly dropped his forkful of string beans. Straightening on his chair, he reached for his wine and took a sip before replying carefully, "You'll pardon me for appearing taken aback, sir, but that's not a subject most men in Deadwood care to discuss."

"But you are not most men, are you, Fox?" Stephen persisted quietly.

"Why, Stephen, you surprise me!" Gramma Susan exclaimed. "You're more astute than I gave you credit for!"

Fox continued to search the eyes of his host. "I have strong opinions about the Fort Laramie Treaty, Mr. Avery, and also about our government's treatment of the Indians. Just
eight
years ago, we gave our word to the Sioux that the Black Hills would remain theirs forever, and already we're going back on our promises. My feelings about the Laramie Treaty pretty much echo my views on the entire situation with the Indians." Fox relaxed a little, sensing Stephen's approval, and leaned back in his chair as Wang Chee cleared their plates. "You must know, though, Mr. Avery, that opinions like mine aren't exactly popular in Deadwood. I'm not prepared to make speeches on Main Street alongside Preacher Smith."