"Why did I bother asking?" Blaze's voice was arch with mock derision.
"I don't know," he interjected. "I've never professed to be monkish."
"Except with me."
"For numerous reasons—all logical."
"That," she said ironically, "is a matter of opinion."
"Would you care to learn how to wash buckskins?" he asked, trying to steer the conversation back to a topic which couldn't be argued into infinity.
"Do I have a choice?" she asked with sarcasm and a softly snide jeer.
"Certainly." He smiled and looked across the table at her with an open, guileless expression.
"But," she serenely murmured, feeling far from serene, "the choice entails an overnight guest—a female one."
"That's been the pattern." Hazard's smile widened.
Straightening, she placed her hands squarely on her hips, his oversized shirt riding up dangerously with the pose, drew in a large breath which did dangerous things to Hazard's libido, and said, "Ha!" The exclamation was accompanied by a glowering look.
"Does that mean you'd like to do it?" he replied, cheerfully ignoring the stern, unvarnished meaning of the exclamation, and striving as well to ignore the taut outline of her nipples temptingly visible through the worn fabric of his shirt.
"Only in contrast to listening to you make love to another woman five feet away from me, you mean?"
"Is that a yes?" Hazard wasn't about to respond to her last heated statement, not with his present thin line of control stretched to the limit.
"Damn you Hazard…"
He only waited, not daring to speak in the capricious, fitful mood enveloping him. Was he a fool to keep saying no? Would it really matter if he took what was so enticingly near and available? His eyes drifted over the precious jeweled beauty of a woman close enough to touch.
"Goddamn you… yes! Satisfied?"
"Very," he quickly said, relieved in ways he wouldn't care to admit.
"I won't have another woman in this cabin." It was the same imperious woman he'd seen so many times before. Whether in worsted trousers, pearled satin, or scavenged clothing, she was sure of herself.
"Fine," he said, the concession infinitely easy. The thought of another woman in the small cabin with Blaze was a disquieting notion. And for reasons he wasn't quite willing to face yet.
HAZARD showed Blaze what had to be done to the treated leather. Showed her how to soak the clothing in the clear water of the pool, how to scrub it with the mild yucca soap they traded from the Shoshones, then spread it on the grass, out of the sun. And within sight of the sluice box he worked all day, she scrubbed and washed and rinsed, seeing that Hazard's buckskins were clean, ensuring that Jon Hazard Black didn't have some other woman in his bed.
Jimmy didn't come up that day, and when Blaze re-marked on it Hazard told her it wasn't unusual. He had other duties to attend to at home, and it wasn't out of the ordinary. Blaze thought otherwise but she was too tired to argue. Even too tired to bathe when Hazard offered to carry water up. And she told him so, half dozing in the chair by the fire. "Besides," she said, "I was in the water almost more than I was out, washing those damn clothes of yours."
"Thank you again. You did a beautiful job."
"I know, and I'll expect the usual payment," she sleepily replied, impertinent to the end. Hazard opened his mouth to reply and then closed it. She'd fallen asleep. He smiled at the sight of her curled up like a small child in the oversized chair. He realized she had worked very hard for him that day; he didn't realize, however, that it was the first time in her life that Blaze had worked for anyone at all.
A HALF-HOUR later Hazard picked her up very gently, carried her to the bed, and tucked her in. He allowed himself a light kiss. "Thank you, bia," he whispered, brushing her cheek with his lips. "You're a charming laundress."
In a dream Blaze heard the warm compliment and smiled.
Locking the cabin when he left, an hour later, Hazard was contemplating the shadowed back stairway of Confederate Gulch's most prosperous, elegant brothel. A silent perusal assured him the dark night held no secrets, and with soft footsteps he ascended the stairs to the second floor. Coming out into a red-carpeted hallway, the smell of waxed wood, cigar smoke and incense was distinguishably familiar. Without hesitation, he strode along the plush carpet, turned left down the corridor, and opened the second door on the right as if he were expected.
Although not exactly expected, Hazard had an open invitation and was welcomed, literally, with open arms. "Hazard, you sweetheart," the dark-haired beauty cried on seeing him. Rising from the plum velvet armchair, she glided over to him, arms outstretched, in a cloud of ruffled lace, expensive scent, and warm welcome. "It's been ages since I've seen you." She stood almost as tall as he in her satin slippers, and when they embraced, her splendid body fit meltingly into Hazard's as perfectly as matched bookends. She put her mouth up the scant difference in their height and waited for his kiss. It was warm, friendly, lingering, and inexplicably indifferent.
"You're looking marvelous," Hazard said, holding her half an arm's length away, his lazily appraising smile as perfect as she'd remembered.
Rose Condieu, gazing at the man she'd nursed back to health after his bloody mourning practices and reluctantly relinquished as bed partner when he'd staked his mining claim, dimpled engagingly and softly replied, "You look like hell," then added with barely concealed interest, "Is it that woman?"
"No," Hazard retorted, his smile widening. "You worry too much. I'm just working long hours."
"Getting any sleep?" Violet eyes the color of exotic orchids appraised him but could learn nothing except that he was more than a little drawn with fatigue.
"No problem," he lied smoothly.
"Everyone's talking about it, you know."
Hazard released his grip on her arms and, moving over to a chair near the heavily draped window, dropped into it. He leaned his head back and stretched out his legs before answering. "Didn't really think it would pass unnoticed," he observed, his low voice full of mockery.
"They say you're flaunting her as your trollop by keeping her."
He laughed derisively. "If I wished to flaunt her, I'd do it in a less private way. They knew what they were doing when they sent her up. It backfired and they're regrouping, that's all."
She clasped her ringed fingers and, walking over, stood before him like an admonishing tutor. "You're up against some powerful people."
"But I've got the woman," he said, lifting his eyes to take in her face now that she was so close. "And I can bluff better." He appreciated her concern, but the warning was unnecessary. He knew, perhaps better than she, what he was up against.
"Did you know the Colonel's up mountain?"
Hazard shook his head slowly against the chair back, his thick black hair drifting over the rich mauve brocade, silk on silk.
"Looking for a spokesman in your tribe." She walked a step nearer, bringing the familiar rose perfume to his nostrils, and stood to one side of his chair, where the dark circles under his eyes were more pronounced in the shade of the table lamp.
"Good, he'll make an offer soon, then."
"You do look tired, Jon."
Hazard sighed, his fingers tightened, then relaxed and curled loosely over the rosewood chair arms. "I'm working like a coolie, Rose. Harder than I've ever worked in my life. And there's not a whole lot of time. How many pioneers"—the word was etched in sarcasm— "do you think have come into my country this month?" Bitter thought.
Rose lowered her eyes against the piercing cynicism. "Are you going to make it?" she quietly asked, for this new audacious act of his was more impetuously rash than she expected even of him.
"Rose, sweetheart," said Hazard, the thinnest edge to his lazy cadence, "I am proposing, if need be, to mortgage my soul down to its last iniquitous crumb in order to succeed… one way or another," he finished, his voice deceptively mild. Then suddenly he grinned like a young boy, and Rose caught a rare glimpse of the splendid youth before the disenchantment had come. "Godalmighty, Rose, let's not get morbid." He crossed his long legs leisurely, settling in, and said with relish, "Tell me the newest scandals in town. What prominent doctor, lawyer, or clergyman is frantically fucking whom? And what prominent doctor, lawyer, or clergyman's wife is piously fucking whom? I've missed the latest gossip the last weeks."
She stared at him, reminded afresh of his effrontery and his ability to amuse—nostalgically reminded. Rose smiled then and there was a new gentleness in her voice. "Feel like your usual? Then I'll give you a detailed account of who's rolling whom in the hay."
Hazard laughed easily. "Sounds wonderful."
When she left, he slid down on his spine in the cushioned chair, sooty lashes drifting downward to rest on swarthy cheekbones. Bone-weary, he could have slept a week.
Five minutes later she brought back her own private blend of black tea with sugar and fresh cream. Hearing her return, Hazard scrubbed a hand across his eyes, straightened in the chair, and accepted the delicately painted china cup. "Thanks, Rose," he said with a tiredness he couldn't conceal. "Do you know how long it's been since I've had fresh cream?"
Rose knew exactly how long it had been, but she remained silent. Although their liaison had been glorious, Hazard had always kept his feelings to himself.
"If I thought the woman could take care of a cow," he went on, "I'd buy one and bring it up there."
"Won't she work?" Rose asked. She would have gladly done any kind of work for Hazard, although she hadn't done any work for years now. But she held her tongue, having learned the hard way to guard herself against the profound error of naivete. Hazard Black had never encouraged regular female company.
He drank some tea before he replied, "She's not used to doing much. Too many minions in her background," he observed, amused long-lashed eyes meeting Rose's over their teacups. "Unlike yours and mine." Hazard was being gracious. He had, in fact, been raised as a chiefs son in a prosperous clan and never had to do anything for himself he didn't care to do. Putting his cup out for more tea, the china incongruously dainty in his large palm, he said, "I think I'm going to need better food up there. Miner's fare might keep me going but…" He shrugged a little.
"Getting soft on her, Hazard?" Rose quietly asked, pouring the amber liquid into his cup.
His calm face gave nothing away. It never did. Settling back, he slowly stirred sugar in. "I don't have time to get soft on a woman. She's insurance, nothing more."
Rose's eyebrows lifted provocatively and, without removing her fine eyes from Hazard, she murmured, "Nice insurance."
He ignored the unstated implication. "I wish she could cook. Jimmy's been coming up but his mother might put some restrictions on his visits, it seems."
"So Molly Pernell's jealous under all that sanctimonious religion," Rose acutely observed.
"With," Hazard murmured, "no good reason."
"You might be able to convince Molly of that, Hazard, if you talked real smooth, but don't waste the effort on me. I haven't a sanctimonious bone in my body."
Not inclined to get into any arguments about his sexual habits, Hazard instead asked Rose one of the favors he'd come down to ask. "With the cooking problem and need for better food, I was wondering if you'd do me a favor?"
Rose nodded her agreement.
"Could you shop for a few extra things for me here in Confederate Gulch and send them to Jimmy? He'll bring them up with the supplies from Diamond City. I'd like some fresh fruit and vegetables. Better bread. I saw peaches and grapes in Haroldson's window. Things like that. And strawberries, if you can find any."