Foxfire Bride (2 page)

Newspapers all over the territories had printed articles about her journey, which had launched her into the scouting business. She'd found a livelihood that had worked just fine until DeBeck shot her in the leg. After that, she'd fetched up in Carson City, gimping around and waiting for her leg to heal.

"Remember that day we met up again?" She'd gone into Jack's Bar and discovered Peaches sweeping the place. It was like coming home. "You were still mad that I'd run off in the middle of reading you one of Charlie Dickens's novels."

"I ain't got over it yet," he said, grinning as she came back to the table. "You're black this time."

It didn't matter which color she played, he always beat her. "How long have we been sitting on the side of this mountain just drifting and waiting for something that never comes?"

" 'Bout three years, I guess. That's a long time to brood, Missy."

"Is that what you think I've been doing?" It was as good an explanation as any.

"I know that's changing. I know you're going to go to Denver. Probably knew 'fore you did." He studied the board. "You want some company on the ride east?"

"Could you stand to see me hanged?" She studied the board, too.

"Might not happen. Might be you'll stop living in the past and start making yourself a future. Might happen before we get to Denver."

It would be like old times, her and Peaches on the road. But she was smarter now, wiser to the ways of the world. If Peaches was with her when she shot Hobbs Jennings, even if she shot him in front of a dozen witnesses, everyone would swear the black man was the killer before they'd believe a white woman had pulled the trigger.

"You can't be with me when I shoot Jennings. You have to agree to that or I'm leaving you here."

"We'll cross that bridge when we get there. I'm going."

There was no point arguing now. They'd have about twelve hundred miles to work out details.

When Fox opened the door in the morning, snow swirled into the cabin on a blast of frigid wind. She and Peaches slapped hands, then carried their coffee out to the lake to watch the snowflakes melt into the water. The pine trees looked like they'd been dipped in vanilla frosting and smelled sharp and tangy the way Fox thought green ought to smell. "Now if it would just stay this cold for another two weeks!"

But it didn't. The new ice was gone in three days.

Fox stood in her shirtsleeves, not needing a coat, and frowned at the stacks of ice blocks that filled about a third of the shed. The shed was protected from the sun by pines and aspen, and she had insulated the ice blocks with straw. There was no melt water on the floor of the shed, but if the weather got much warmer, there would be.

"Company's coming," Peaches called.

Picking up the shotgun that leaned against the inside of the door, Fox stepped outside the shed. At least it was still colder inside the shed than outside.

Peaches lowered his wood-chopping ax and they both waited for the man they could see glimpses of as he wove through the trees.

The horse was quality, not blowing and heaving at this altitude. The rider looked to be quality, too, judging from his leather hat and wool jacket. He was clean-shaven, which set him apart and marked him as a city man, possibly from the east.

"Hello the cabin," he called, much later than he should have, which made Fox think he was damned lucky he hadn't been shot long before now.

"Come on in," she answered.

He rode into the clearing and tipped his hat to her then looked toward the lake. "Nice view you got here."

"What's your business, mister?"

Once he'd admired the lake and the peaks, he examined the cabin and shed, then swung his gaze from Fox to Peaches and back again.

"I'm looking for Fox." His eyes stopped on Peaches. "Would that be you?"

"That would be me," Fox said, swinging up the shotgun so he could see it. "What do you want?"

Surprise tightened his jaw and he stared at her, then an irritated frown pulled his brow and he swore under his breath. "I beg your pardon, ma'am. I suspect some boys in town were having a bit of fun at my expense."

"Is that so." She kept her gaze narrow and hard, ready for anything. He wasn't wearing a gun, didn't pack a rifle scabbard. And since he didn't sport a beard, she could see that he had one of those craggy angular faces that could flash from pleasant to threatening in a heartbeat. "And who are you?"

"Matthew Tanner." He took off his hat and nodded, revealing shoulder-length reddish brown hair. Clean shiny hair, which also set him apart from the miners, prospectors, and general grub bags who seemed to gravitate to this part of the territory. "I'll be on my way, but first, I wonder if I could trouble you for a cup of water?"

"I'll get it." Peaches set down his ax and headed toward the lake with a bucket. He wouldn't have left the clearing if he'd smelled one iota of trouble on Matthew Tanner. Peaches's judgment was good enough for Fox.

She leaned the shotgun against the shed wall. "Might as well get down and stretch your legs."

"Thank you."

He turned out to be as tall as she'd guessed he would be. Maybe six feet. At least a head taller than she was. "So why were you looking for me?"

"It's a mistake." Eyes the color of old wood examined her. "I need a scout. Some men in Carson City said Fox was the best scout in the territory. Directed me up here."

"Well," she said, walking around him, sizing him up, "those boys weren't wrong. Except I gave up scouting after I got shot."

He was one damned fine-looking man. Built like a wedge of muscle and sinew, not an ounce of fat on him. Wide shoulders, buttocks made for long days in a saddle. His jawline announced he was stubborn, but what man wasn't? The lines of his face saved him from being handsome, but not from being attractive.

Fox felt a tug deep inside that she would have sworn was long dead.

"I didn't want the aggravation that one of my competitors was giving me. So I decided to go into a different business. But you coming up here is like fate paying a call. I've been thinking about going back to work."

His smile turned into a stare. "You really are a scout?" After a minute he walked around her, doing his own sizing up, inspecting her work boots, trousers, poncho, and raggedy hat.

Fox experienced an insane urge to tuck up her hair and scrub her face with her hanky. Scowling, she gave him stare for stare.

"Listen, when I was taking parties east, I was the best there is," she snapped. "You don't have to be a fricking man to find your way from here to there, so you can stop looking so amazed. Where do you want to go?"

"Denver."

The word rocked her back on her heels. Peaches heard, too. He stopped on the path so abruptly that water slopped from the bucket. His eyes widened and swung toward Fox.

"Well, hell," she said uneasily, slapping her hat against her thigh. Destiny had just kicked her in the pants. "You can get to Denver without a scout. Just head up to South Park in Wyoming, cross the divide, and turn south."

"That's the route I took coming out here, but I need to get home by a faster, more direct way." He ladled water out of the bucket and thanked Peaches.

"You can cross the divide through Wyoming, or you can go south and pick up the Sante Fe trail. If you try it as the crow flies, you'll have to cross severalI'm saying severalmountain ranges. That's not smart. And trouble and setbacks could end up costing more time than if you'd taken either of the tested routes."

"But it could take less time."

"It could. But that's not how it usually happens."

His gaze hardened. "The truth have you taken the direct route before?"

"The truth?" The hair on the back of her neck bristled. "Listen, mister." She jabbed a finger on his chest, making him step backward. "I don't lie. There's not much about me to hang my pride on, but honesty is one of those things." She stared up at him, her eyes glittering. "Yes, I've done the direct route. Several times. And each time was a fricking disaster. You hear me? People died, people got hurt. Go up through Wyoming." Turning on her heel, she went into the cabin and slammed the door.

Who the hell was Matthew Tanner to ride into her yard and question her honesty? Who did he think he was, anyway? Pacing, she returned to the window and peered out in time to see Tanner following Peaches down to the lake. All right, now what was Peaches doing? A fresh wave of anger burned through her.

It took several minutes before she calmed down enough to ask the real questions. Why was she so angry? No answer popped to mind. Why in the world should it matter that Tanner was disappointed that she was a woman or that he wondered if she was as good as she claimed? No answer popped to mind. And it wasn't unreasonable for him to want to know if she'd previously made the trek since he would have to trust her judgment and he'd be paying her.

Fox stamped across the floor to the small mirror over the sink. She seldom looked in a mirror because mirrors never reflected the face she expected to see. The face she expected was the happy round face of a child, not the plain lived-in face of an adult or the sharp suspicious eyes that said keep away.

She peered into the glass trying to see whatever Matthew Tanner had seen when he looked at her. Wild red hair coming out of the knot on top of her head. No, not red. Auburn. Auburn sounded more refined, not that she cared a whit for refinement. At least her face was clean. And she wasn't missing any teeth, which was a miracle because Fox had probably been in as many fights as a man her age would have been. Matthew Tanner wasn't missing any teeth either, she recalled.

He was looking for a scout to lead him to Denver.

She stared at herself in the mirror. How did the old saying go? Be careful what you wish for, it might come true. And sure enough, here was the chance she'd been telling Peaches she wanted. If she took on Matthew Tanner, he'd pay her to go where she wanted to go anyway. She'd reach Denver with money in her pocket. Biting her lip, she walked back to the window and peered outside. What were he and Peaches saying to each other?

"All right." Jamming her hat on her head, she pulled open the door and strode down the path. "You're still here," she said, walking past the rock Peaches and Tanner sat on.

"We're talking about the war," Tanner said, standing as if a lady had entered the room.

"Mr. Tanner thinks slavery will be abolished. I'll be a free man."

Fox laughed and turned around. "Peaches Hernandez, if you were ever a slave, I sure never heard about it."

"Well, I coulda been," he said, smiling. "Just luck that I wasn't."

Matthew Tanner listened as if he were trying to figure out their relationship. When she turned a cool gaze on his face, he nodded once then cleared his throat. "I'm not making an offer, but are you interested in leading a small party to Denver by the direct route?"

"First, there is no direct route. We won't be following an established trail, we'd be picking our way along, hit and miss. Second, I have a lucrative business here." From the corner of her eye, she saw Peaches suck in his cheeks, saw him roll his eyes toward the sky. "Me and Peaches, we're ice cutters. We store the ice over there, then drive it down to Carson and sell it for a pretty penny when the weather gets warm. If I leave, I'd be walking away from a pile of money."

Tanner scanned the ice-free lake and raised an eyebrow. "So to lure you away from large profits, I'd have to pay you a fortune, is that it?" His jaw set in a line and he studied her face. "What's the going rate?"

"You pay for all provisions, and provide a good horse for me and Peaches and pack animals that I approve. You pay any expenses we encounter on the road. And you pay me one hundred and fifty dollars a month, figuring at least three months. You pay half up front, half when I drag your butt into Denver. There's an extra charge for every person in the party beyond five. If you take an established route, no one cares if your party numbers two or two hundred. If you go direct with me, we go with a small party that can move fast if it has to."

"Your man goes, too?"

"Peaches is his own man, not mine. We'll need a wrangler, and that'll be Peaches. You pay him a hundred a month."

She had stacked all the expenses on him and upped the going rate by half again. From the looks of him, he could afford whatever she chose to charge. But the primary reason she gouged him was to discover how far fate was going to push her.

"One more thing," she said, standing close enough that she could smell leather and horse and a whiff of perspiration. "You and your party take your orders from me. If I say we don't go through a particular valley, we don't go through it, no questions asked. If I say we have to ride around a gully, then you and everyone else rides around it. If I say we don't ford a river, no horse gets its feet wet. If I say we go across, we go, whether or not anyone agrees. You understand? If I'm responsible for your lives, then I'm in charge. If you or anyone else in your party objects to taking orders from a woman, then find yourself another scout."

He nodded slowly. "You've given me a lot to think about."

Which was a polite way of saying that he intended to scrape the earth and try to turn up another scout.

That was fine with Fox. If she was going to Denver, it would be a whole lot less aggravating to go alone and take the relatively easy route up through Wyoming.

"One thing," Tanner said before he walked away. "There's some urgency involved. How soon could you get under way?"

Fox pursed her lips. "We'll have to sell the ice. As warm as it's been, we could probably sell it now instead of waiting for summer. Probably. That might take a week."

"Suppose someone bought all your ice and you didn't have to deal with selling it. How soon?"

"The minute you give the go-ahead, me and Peaches will ride to Carson City and start arranging provisions and looking at animals. I'd say we could ride out of Carson in three days."

"You can guarantee we'll get to Denver in three months?"

"Mister, I can't guarantee anything. All I can tell you is that I'll try like hell to get you there."