Foxfire Bride (12 page)

"Well, no," she said, frowning. Once again she had asked him a question that was turning out to be a mistake. And feeling agitated and dumb because of it. "But I thought you might."

Annoyance quirked his mouth before he turned to study the mountains rising in front of them. "Is there mining nearby?"

"As a matter of fact I'm planning to stay in a mining camp tomorrow night." She almost asked how he had guessed, then remembered that he was a mining engineer and managed to save herself an embarrassment. "How long have you worked for J M and M?"

"Fifteen years. A lot longer than I expected to."

Fox gazed into her coffee cup and inhaled the scent of roasting rabbit wafting from the campfire behind them. Supper must be almost ready. "What do you think of your boss? Mr. Jennings?"

"I like him." Tanner finished his coffee. "He runs a fair and honest operation."

That was not what Fox had expected to hear. "Now that surprises me. I heard Hobbs Jennings is a no good thieving son of a bitch."

Tanner turned to face her and she noticed that the paleness of working underground had vanished, replaced by a weathered tan that deepened every day. The polish had rubbed off his boots, and his trousers were as dusty as his jacket. He was starting to look more like Fox preferred a man to look, only much more handsome.

A frown pulled his eyebrows. "Where did you hear that?"

She shrugged. "Here and there."

"Hobbs Jennings pays a higher wage than other mine owners, and he takes care of a miner's family if the miner is killed or injured on the job. He's concerned about efficiency and profit, but he's also concerned about safety. Many owners aren't."

Irritated, Fox started toward the campfire. "Saint Hobbs? I don't believe it. You just don't know him well enough."

"And you do?"

She heard the puzzlement in his voice and realized she'd said more than she should have. Planting her fists on her hips, she considered the rabbits spitted above the fire. "My mouth is watering."

It was Peaches's turn to cook. "Thanks to Mr. Hanratty, we're goin' to have a feast. I've got corn bread making, too."

They had stopped early to let the animals graze. They'd have a couple hours of daylight after eating. "Are you up for chess?"

"Best ask if you're up to getting your butt whipped."

Fox smiled. "Someday I'll beat you."

"And someday the moon is gonna fall right out of the sky."

The rabbit tasted as delicious as it had smelled, and Peaches's corn bread melted in the mouth in butter-soaked goodness. Midway through the meal Fox noticed Peaches staring at her with what he called his "significant look." When he had her attention, he rolled his eyes toward Tanner's plate. It took a minute for Fox to understand what Peaches wanted her to notice. When she did, she inspected Hanratty and Brown, too.

Hanratty, Brown, and Fox ate with their forks clutched in their fists. Tanner used his utensils the way Peaches insisted refined folks did. If Tanner noticed how Fox ate, and of course he must have by now, he would place her in the same class as Hanratty and Brown. Fox might have a background lacking in the social graces, but she considered herself head and shoulders above the likes of Hanratty and Brown.

Frowning, feeling like she was putting on airs, she switched her fork in her hand. She hoped Tanner would notice that she was no longer eating like Hanratty and Brown.

"I believe I know Hobbs Jennings as well as anyone in the company," Tanner stated after they'd eaten.

Fox kept her gaze fixed on the chessboard Peaches was setting up. Peaches flicked her a glance when he heard Jennings's name.

When she didn't respond, Tanner cleaned his throat. "You're implying that you know someone who's been with J M and M longer than I have and you believe he knows Jennings better than I do."

"This person has known Jennings much longer than you have." Fox spoke reluctantly, mentally kicking herself for bungling things.

"Can you tell me his name?"

"No." Sitting on the grass, Fox studied the chessboard as if she'd never played the game before. "You open," she said to Peaches.

"Damn it, Fox, you're irritating the hell out of me."

"Then go away so me and Peaches can play chess in peace."

"What exactly did this person tell you about Hobbs Jennings?"

Finally she looked up at him. "Jennings is your boss and I can see why you'd be loyal to him. Let's leave it at that."

For a moment he held her gaze, then he turned and walked toward Hanratty and Brown, taking a cigar from his vest pocket.

"I made a mistake and I know it," Fox said to Peaches, "so don't say anything."

"I believe the sun protection is working. The bacon grease and remembering to wear your riding gloves is helping your hands, too."

"Are my cheeks still chapped?" She knew her lips were, but they were gradually getting smoother.

"Not as bad as when we left Carson City."

In an eyeblink, Peaches took a bishop and one of her knights. Fox stared at the board in disbelief. "How did you do that?"

"You aren't paying attention, Missy." He withdrew a cigar from the pocket of his overalls and Fox recognized the band around it. "You got other things on your mind."

"That's one of Tanner's cigars."

"It is. Me and Mr. Tanner been getting acquainted." Peaches drew on the cigar and closed his eyes in pleasure. Then he captured one of Fox's rooks. "That man knows a bit about everything."

"He never offered me one of his fancy cigars."

"That's probably because he doesn't think to. I doubt Mr. Tanner knows many ladies who smoke."

"But that means he thinks of me as a lady. Nobody thinks" Biting her lip, she blinked down at the board. Did Matthew Tanner think of her as a lady? No, he couldn't possibly. But he might be thinking of her as a woman.

What did he see when he looked at her? Right now he'd see her sitting Indian-style on the dry grass, covered from neck to knees in her old poncho, her hair dusty and in need of a wash. Tendrils had pulled loose and floated around her cheeks. She suspected she was beginning to smell as ripe as the men.

"What kind of things do you and Tanner talk about?" She took another of Peaches's pawns, no triumph in it.

"We talk about everything and nothing. About the war and how it might go, about development moving west, about the Indian problems. He knows the names of the stars and the names of different kinds of rocks. He's read all the books we have."

Why couldn't Fox talk to Tanner about those things? Instead, her mouth went dry and all her social talk blew away like grains of sand on a wind. She ended up asking him personal questions that annoyed him, or babbled about weather and scenery, and usually finished by putting her foot in her mouth.

"Does he ever ask about me?" Sighing, she watched Peaches mount an attack on her queen. The game was turning into a rout.

"Every now and then."

"What kind of questions?" She kept her head down.

"Like when did you and me hook up? Did I teach you to read and write and do sums, or did you go to school? That kind of thing."

Heat burned on her cheeks. "How do you answer?"

He pounced on her queen. This would be one of the shortest games they had played. "I answer without any details. Don't volunteer anything."

"Does he ever offer any information about himself?"

"Not much. I know he's plenty worried about his pa. I have an idea his pa expects a lot out of him. Maybe more than he can give. Maybe more than anyone could give."

Fox raised her head. "What's that mean?"

"I 'spect it means Mr. Tanner can't ever please his pa. Probably means he feels he's always disappointing his father."

Fox sat back and thought about that. Not having parents, she knew she cherished an idealized view of the parent/child relationship. In her vision, both parties gave and received unconditional love even though Fox suspected there was no such thing as unconditional love.

Turning her head, she watched Tanner talking to Hanratty and Brown. They stood near the bedrolls, smoking, occasionally laughing. All a person had to do was look at Matthew Tanner to know he was the kind of man who did the right thing, a man whose word was as good as a contract, a man with duty and loyalty at the core of his character. She could not visualize him failing at anything.

It occurred to Fox that if there was anything worse than having no father, it might be having a father you could never please, a father who looked at you with disappointment.

"Your butt is whipped."

When she jerked her attention back to the board, Peaches's men had captured her king. Fox swore as he picked up the pieces and stacked them back in the box. "Sorry," she apologized. "I didn't give you much of a game." A flash came into her eyes. "Why do you care if Tanner knows the name of the stars? It was you who showed me the Big Dipper and how to find the North Star. You already know the names of the stars."

"A few," Peaches agreed. "But not like Mr. Tanner does. He knows constellations."

"You do, too."

"Not as many as Mr. Tanner knows."

"Peaches Hernandez," her eyes came down in slits, "are you trying to make Tanner look good in my eyes?"

"I 'spect he already does, Missy."

Part of Tanner's job was to judge the mood of the miners and listen for complaints as he traveled among the JM&M holdings. Hobbs Jennings did not want to be the last to know about a problem brewing in his mines. He wanted to know quickly, while there was time to solve any difficulty.

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.