Foxfire Bride (13 page)

"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.

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.