The Mavericks

by Leigh Greenwood

  Suzette’s dismay was obvious. Zeke measured out the coffee with great care to give himself a moment to think. He moved the pan with the cooked bacon to the edge of the coals and put the coffeepot in the center. It wasn’t any better for Hawk to become emotionally entangled with Suzette than it was for him to become entangled with Josie. Would he be doing Hawk a favor by forcing him and Suzette apart before they could become seriously interested in each other? Did he have the right to decide something like this for Hawk?

  “No, I’m not,” he said. “But you’d better talk to Josie before we decide.”

  He and Hawk had each been interested in several women over the past twenty years, but this was the first time Zeke thought Hawk might be on the verge of developing a serious relationship. He didn’t know why he should think that—Hawk and Suzette barely knew each other—but there seemed to be something between them he’d never seen in any of Hawk’s previous affairs.

  “I should go talk to Josie,” Suzette said.

  “Good idea. Would you like me to make some biscuits?” What the hell was he doing, trying to bribe Josie with his cooking? So far his competence had done nothing but irritate her. He wondered if she’d like him better if he was so helpless she had to do everything for him. Some women liked it when they believed a man couldn’t survive without them.

  “Can you really make biscuits?” Suzette asked.

  “Sure. Hawk and I learned to cook for ourselves long ago. If we hadn’t, our choice would have been to starve or eat bad food.”

  “I’ll be back soon.”

  “Take your time. It’ll be better for everybody if Josie is sure about what she wants to do.” His expression turned stony. “You can also tell her we reserve the right to reconsider this arrangement at any time.”

  Suzette’s eyes widened in surprise. She turned to Hawk. “Do you agree with that?”

  Hawk stared at Zeke for a moment before swinging his gaze to Suzette. “Yes.”

  Suzette looked disappointed. She appeared to want to say something. Instead, she shrugged her shoulders, turned, and started down the path Josie had taken.

  “Are you sure you want to do this?” Hawk asked.

  Zeke poked needlessly at the coals and reconsidered his offer to make biscuits. He and Hawk had already eaten. Why had he offered to cook for the women? Making biscuits wasn’t going to make Josie like him any better, and it would make them even later getting on the trail. He got to his feet with a frustrated grunt. He might as well stop debating and get the makings from the wagon. For reasons he couldn’t identify, he had to make biscuits.

  “I’d rather wrestle a grown steer,” he said to Hawk as he gathered flour and hog fat from the wagon, “but you know as well as I do this woman is under my skin. I’ve got to get her out before she drives me crazy.”

  “We could just leave.”

  “What about Suzette?”

  Hawk’s expression didn’t change. Only his eyes indicated that Zeke had touched a nerve. “What about her?”

  “You like her. I think she likes you.”

  “We’re attracted to each other, but it’s something either of us can walk away from. It’s not like that with you and Josie.”

  Zeke wasn’t sure Hawk was right, but he was too confused about his own feelings to think he knew what was going on with Hawk. He dumped some flour on a board and began mixing it with lard until the mixture was crumbly. It felt good to have something to do with his hands, something he knew he could accomplish. “Whatever is between me and Josie isn’t going anywhere, but that’s not true of you and Suzette. It could develop into something serious.”

  Hawk’s gaze seemed to bore into Zeke. “If it did, would you mind?”

  Zeke opened the can of milk the Pettingers had insisted on giving the women. He grinned when he saw globs of butter floating on top. The action of the wagon had churned the cream until it separated into butter. He poured out some milk for the biscuits. He’d fish out the butter later. It would taste great on hot biscuits.

  “I’d hate it, but I’d also be happy for you,” Zeke said as he poured milk into his batter. “I’ve gotten so used to the two of us working together, it would feel strange to be alone.”

  “I’ll stake the mules so they can graze some more,” Hawk said. “Then I’ll get the mares and bring them back here.”

  “You think Josie is going to agree to travel with us?”

  “She won’t want to, but she will. I’ll be back in half an hour. Save me a couple of biscuits.” He took the mules and went off to look for a place to graze them.

  Great, Zeke thought as he drove his fist into the dough. After being talked into doing something against her will, Josie would be in a fine mood. He retrieved a Dutch oven from the wagon, formed the biscuits, put them inside, and put the cover on tight to keep out dust and ashes. After digging a shallow hole, he set the oven in it, then began heaping coals on top. The biscuits ought to be ready in less than twenty minutes.

  Zeke looked down the path that led to the river, but he saw no sign of Josie or Suzette. Muttering an oath, he pulled out his tin cup and poured himself some coffee. It was strong, black, and hot, just the way he liked it, but it didn’t improve his mood.

  He’d never thought he and Hawk might separate, might go their different ways. As the only two orphans who weren’t white, they’d gravitated toward each other while growing up. They’d never questioned that they would leave the ranch together, that they would work together. They were outsiders who didn’t belong anywhere. Despite forming several attachments with women over the years, none of their relationships had lasted. After twenty-five years, they’d come to think of themselves as permanent partners. That’s what the ranch was all about.

  Zeke turned his gaze toward the river, but the path was still empty. Uttering another oath, he started down the path, only to stop before he’d gone a dozen steps. This was something Josie had to decide for herself. Putting pressure on her wouldn’t work. He turned around, but rather than go back to the wagon, he started off on a path parallel to the river. He had some decisions of his own to make. If they traveled to Tombstone with these women, life as he’d known it for the last twenty years could very well come to an end. If that happened, what was he going to do?

  “We don’t have to do this,” Suzette said to Josie. “We can get to Tombstone by ourselves.”

  “It makes sense to travel together.” It was hard for Josie to say or do anything that implied she needed to depend on a man to help her, but she was also too smart to deny the truth. “They know the way better than we do; they know more about traveling through the desert; they can offer us protection; they can even help us if we get into trouble.”

  “It’s not all good. Those horses may attract thieves, men willing to kill to get what they want.”

  “Would they be any more dangerous than men looking for women and willing to use them for their pleasure?”

  Josie was sitting on a bank cut by the river when it had run several feet higher. She had dug her heels into the sand repeatedly until she had made a rut about six inches deep. It wasn’t the only outward sign of her inner turmoil. Several times she’d found herself gripping the fingers of one hand with the other until she’d popped her knuckles twice.

  Her gaze settled on the river as it raced over rocks in a shallow crossing. The crystal-clear water was barely six inches deep, but the sound of it tumbling over and around multicolor stones created a murmur soothing to her raw nerves. It was a calm, serene scene, the river against a backdrop of trees on the far side, the sun coming over the horizon creating bursts of brilliant color, the wide expanse of the desert spreading out behind her. She could almost believe she would never have to work in another saloon, never have to sing and dance for men who wanted her for only one purpose. Out here, in the quiet isolation of the morning, all that seemed very far away.

  “I’ll ride with Zeke,” Suzette offered. “You can ride with Hawk.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” Josie
snapped. “You like Hawk, you like to ride, and you adore horses. You should ride with him.”

  “But that leaves you with Zeke.”

  “I’ve been left with worse men before.” She was immediately sorry for her words. Her feelings about Zeke were contradictory and chaotic, but he’d done nothing to warrant a statement like that. “I shouldn’t have said that. Zeke seems to be a good man.”

  “What is it about him that you don’t like?”

  “All I have to do is close my eyes and I can see my father.”

  “Zeke can’t help that.”

  “He doesn’t want to. He likes being more powerful than a woman, thinking he knows more than a woman, that a woman ought to listen to what he says because he says it. All men are like that.”

  “Hawk isn’t.”

  “Sure, he is. You just haven’t disagreed with him yet.” Josie dug her feet deeper in the sand until water began to seep into the bottom of the hole.

  “I expect I’ll have plenty of opportunity to judge for myself before we reach Tombstone. Are you ready to go back?”

  Josie began pushing the sand back into the hole. “Give me a minute. I’m still embarrassed about throwing that coffee at Zeke.”

  Suzette’s brow creased with worry. “What made you do something like that?”

  Josie shrugged. “I don’t know. Something about Zeke brings out the worst in me.”

  “Well, he’s making biscuits. That ought to raise him a little in your estimation.”

  Josie grudgingly laughed at the thought of Zeke cooking. “Maybe, if they’re edible.”

  Suzette rose from her position next to Josie and brushed the sand and bits of debris off her skirt. “Don’t wait too long. They’d like to be on the trail as soon as possible.”

  But Josie wasn’t concerned just now about getting on the trail. Her mind was focused on her situation. She’d finally figured out what was causing her to act like an irritable wildcat half the time. Her experience had proved to her that she couldn’t trust men to protect her or do anything else they’d promised. Her personal life had been immeasurably better since she’d made up her mind to have nothing to do with them.

  Then Zeke came along and upset everything.

  Somewhere inside was a part of her that liked everything about Zeke. Before she knew what was happening, she was at war with herself. And she was miserable. Part of her wanted to believe in Zeke, to trust him, to open up to him. The other part of her was petrified of what would happen if she did.

  But circumstances had stepped in and made it difficult to refuse Zeke and Hawk’s offer to escort them to Tombstone. Her agony of indecision would have no easy resolution.

  By the time the stranger rode up to their wagon, Zeke was ready to welcome any interruption to the uneasy silence that existed between him and Josie. He’d tried to talk to her on a variety of subjects but gotten only reluctant responses for his efforts. When he asked about her past, she said she’d rather not talk about it. When he asked about her hopes for the future, she said that depended on luck. When he asked what she wanted, she said she didn’t know yet. When he asked if she was sleepy and wanted him to shut up and leave her alone, she said she was never sleepy during the day. Besides, she couldn’t sleep with the wagon lurching over the uneven ground. Zeke replied that he’d once read about a magic carpet that could provide a smooth ride over even the roughest landscape, but he’d never been able to afford one.

  After that they didn’t talk at all. She had retreated into the wagon, leaving him alone on the bench.

  “Mind if I join you for a spell?” the stranger asked. “We seem to be headed in the same direction.”

  “Not at all,” Zeke said. “Where are you headed?”

  “Tombstone. Then to Bisbee. I have some business interests there. My name’s Solomon Gardner. You might have heard of my father, David Gardner. He established our ranch in Gardner Canyon.”

  David Gardner had come to Arizona after the Civil War to fight Indians. Later he established one of the most successful cattle ranches in the San Pedro Valley, which now belonged to his only son. David had also been one of the first men to invest in mines in the valley, which now made Solomon one of the richest men in Arizona. His reputation with the ladies was rapidly becoming legendary. Considering that his biblical namesake had a harem of more than five thousand women, maybe that was only to be expected.

  “I didn’t expect to see a man driving a wagon through the desert. Wouldn’t your horse have been faster?” Gardner asked.

  There were lots of reasons why Zeke didn’t want Gardner to know he was traveling with a woman, not the least being that he would assume Josie was Zeke’s woman—in the biblical sense. Josie emerged from the wagon before he could decide how to answer.

  “He’s tied to a wagon because he and his partner came across two women foolish enough to think they could travel from Globe to Tombstone on their own.”

  It didn’t bother Zeke that Gardner’s eyes grew wide at the sight of Josie. Even rich men didn’t come across a woman like Josie more than once or twice in a lifetime. What did bother him was the lust he saw flame up immediately in their depths. Gardner recovered his tongue quickly.

  “If your friend is only half as beautiful as you, I’m surprised the good citizens of Globe didn’t come up with a petition to beg you to stay.”

  “Actually their wives petitioned for us to leave.”

  Zeke didn’t like the way Josie was looking at Gardner. Her gaze covered him in one thorough, analytical sweep. She took in the quality of his mount, the silver work on his saddle and bridle, the heavy saddlebags, and the quality of his clothes. Nor, Zeke was certain, did she overlook his handsome face or impressive physique.

  “I can sympathize with the wives, but I feel sorry for their husbands,” Gardner said. “Where are you headed?”

  “To Tombstone,” Josie said. “We hope to find jobs there.”

  Gardner’s eyes lit up, and he smiled so broadly Zeke ached to knock the grin off his face. Gardner was rich and Josie was out of a job. It would be easy for a man of his resources to see that Josie landed in a comfortable position when she reached Tombstone, but Zeke was certain that position would have little or nothing to do with singing and dancing. His fingers closed around the reins in his hands until his fingernails dug into his palms.

  “I’m sure in your case that won’t be a problem.” Gardner continued to eye Josie in a manner that made Zeke itch to knock him off his fancy bay horse. The animal looked like it had thoroughbred blood and hadn’t been gelded. Only vanity would cause a man to choose a high-strung stud horse as a mount for a trip of more than a hundred miles through the desert. Zeke almost wished the mares were in season. Then he would have had a legitimate reason for telling Gardner to get lost quickly.

  “Do you know a lot about the saloons and theaters in Tombstone?” Josie asked Gardner.

  Zeke wondered why Josie hadn’t asked him or Hawk that question. They’d been to Tombstone at least a dozen times over the last ten years.

  “I own part of the Birdcage, the best theater in the Arizona Territory,” Gardner said. “A word from me would guarantee you a job. What do you do?”

  “My partner and I sing and dance.”

  “You could make a lot more money serving drinks and getting friendly with the customers.”

  “I know, but I discovered most men don’t agree with my definition of friendly. They seem to think it gives them the right to take certain liberties.”

  Zeke couldn’t quite figure out Josie’s intent. Even though the meaning of her words was clear, her tone implied just the opposite. He’d run across more than one honey-voiced female in his lifetime, but Josie was the best yet. A man could just about drown in her velvety voice. Zeke was ashamed to admit it, but he wouldn’t have cared what she said to him as long as she sounded like that when she said it.

  To look at her, you’d think she was flirting with Gardner. She was smiling, dipping her chin and turning her head to th
e side like she was shy, maybe even embarrassed by Gardner’s open admiration. Since Zeke was positive that Josie didn’t have a shy bone in her body, he had to assume she was putting on an act to see what she could get out of Gardner. It was probably the way women in her profession did business, but it made Zeke so angry he wanted to shout at her to stop acting like a strumpet.

  “You can’t blame the men. They must think they’re seeing a vision from heaven when they see you,” Gardner said.

  Zeke was sure he was going to puke. This guy was rich. He didn’t have to talk like an idiot to get women. “Only if they’re too drunk to remember their feet are on the ground,” he growled before Gardner could say something else nauseating.

  “They’d probably feel that way even sober. I thought I might be suffering from a heat stroke.”

  Zeke hoped Josie didn’t believe anything this man said.

  “Do you think you could help me find a job?” Josie asked.

  “Sure. Do you mind if I camp with you tonight? I’d need to meet your partner before I could make any promises. Then we’d need to talk about a few things, like exactly what kind of act you do, what kind of music you need, how much you’ll expect to get paid, where to find accommodations, that sort of thing.”

  Josie turned to Zeke. “I’m sure Hawk won’t mind if you don’t. This could be the perfect situation for Suzette and me. She really needs money for her sister.”

  This was the first Zeke had heard about Suzette having a sister, but he had no doubt that Suzette would be just as anxious as Josie to talk with Gardner. If he really was part owner of the Birdcage—and Zeke had no reason to doubt him—meeting him on the trail was an incredible stroke of good fortune, but Zeke was worried just the same. Men like Gardner never gave something without expecting even more in return.

  “I’ve got my own supplies,” Gardner said.

  “That’s not a problem.” Zeke was aware that his voice showed no enthusiasm. “We have more than enough.”

  “I’m glad I ran into you. I wasn’t looking forward to making this journey alone.”

  “Weren’t you planning to spend the night at various ranches along the way?” Zeke asked. “You must know all the owners.” Ranchers always stuck together to protect themselves against rustlers. The threat from the Apaches was gone, but there were more than enough renegade Indians, Mexican bandits, and American outlaws and freebooters willing to take up where Geronimo’s braves had left off.