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  "Yeah, I've heard that, too. Custer's all right, but too eager for my taste. It wouldn't break my heart to hear that Crazy Horse had killed old George."

  Fox nearly sighed aloud. So, even the wagon train did not have news of the battle. He needed to know now—even if knowing meant that Wanted posters featuring his own face would appear on every building and tent in Deadwood. The uncertainty was eating at him and his dreams were getting worse.

  "Well," he remarked as casually as a man who hadn't a care in the world, "it's good to have you in town, Bill. I'll leave you to your game. Let me know if there's ever anything I can do for you."

  Hickok gave him a crooked smile. "I'd be obliged if you'd remember to watch my back when we're in the same room, Fox."

  "It would be an honor," he replied, and they both laughed.

  Chapter 7

  July 20, 1876

  It was getting harder and harder to stay in the house. Maddie nearly gave herself away to Gramma Susan and expressed those sentiments aloud, but she remembered herself just in time. It wouldn't do for her grandmother to know that she was bored with The Scarlet Letter, bored with polishing silver, bored even with the shopping trip the two women had made to look over the supplies that had come in on the wagon train. Even a glimpse of Wild Bill Hickok, pointed out to Maddie by E. B. Farnum, thrilled her not at all. Farnum, a merchant who was said to have designs on the office of mayor, spent most of each day sitting outside his store on a flitch of bacon, holding forth on a variety of subjects. None of it interested Madeleine.

  She was loath to admit it even to herself, but what did seem to interest her these days were the goings-on next door. Sometimes she would peek between the curtains upstairs, or from the kitchen window if Gramma Susan wasn't watching, and try to see what was happening. This was one of those times.

  Her grandmother, having risen at dawn to bake while the house was still cool, was now napping peacefully on her son-in-law's bed, and Maddie was stationed at the window next to the back door. Figures appeared and disappeared in and out of Fox's house, their images flickering as they passed the row of pine trees. Benjamin was over there, giggling madly, and someone was singing what sounded like a sea chanty. Hammers pounded. Fox had brought his horse to live with him on the hill, and Maddie gave her brother treats to take to the roan she now knew was called Watson.

  Fox seemed to confound her at every turn. Just when she felt he'd proven himself to be tough and crude, he'd surprise her. A horse named Watson indeed! And then there was the matter of the dinner he'd shared with her family, showing up in his fancy clothes, conversing like a gentleman. Sometimes that day seemed like a dream.

  Fox was emerging from his log house, crossing the lot toward the row of pine trees where Watson was tethered. He had something in his hand and Watson was moving his head up and down in anticipation. Maddie dragged over one of their crate chairs and hopped up for a better look.

  "Why don't you just walk over there and say hello?"

  She nearly toppled to the floor at the sound of her grandmother's voice. Then, to make matters worse, when she glanced back outside she saw that Fox had stepped between the pine trees and was waving to her. The smile he wore was maddeningly wry.

  She wanted to die. "Gramma Susan, how could you?" Jumping to the floor, she yanked the curtains closed.

  "Perhaps you were looking for a fly that was annoying you," Susan suggested blandly.

  Maddie narrowed her eyes at the old woman and tried not to smile. "How did you know? I'm going out for a breath of air. I may be a few minutes, for I have to check for weeds in my garden."

  "Don't rush on my account."

  Touching a hand to the cluster of ringlets caught up over her left shoulder, Maddie decided that she couldn't risk giving herself away completely by turning back to look in a mirror. Her mint-sprigged muslin frock was clean and pressed. Her hands were washed, and her hair seemed presentable. She took her gardening apron from its hook by the window, slipped it on, and tied a big bow in back, then drew on her gloves and opened the door.

  "I must say, you are more fastidious than I could ever hope to become," Gramma Susan remarked. Adjusting her spectacles, she gave her granddaughter an innocent smile. "It must be the difference in the way we were raised. My mother was a little scamp, you know."

  "Gramma, how can you say that? Great-grandmother Meagan was the wife of a United States senator!"

  Susan shrugged. "Mama could play that part when she had to, but underneath it all she remained a scamp at heart, and we all loved her for it." Handing Maddie her slender, ladylike hoe, Susan said, "Go on and tend your garden now, darling."

  Maddie stepped into the sunshine, then remembered the real reason she was there and hesitated. When she turned back toward the safety of the house, she discovered that Gramma Susan had heartlessly shut the door.

  Feeling silly, she started toward the garden. It hadn't rained for a few days, and the mud had nearly dried up in their "yard." Still, one never knew when a kid slipper might sink into a mushy place that had looked perfectly harmless to the unsuspecting eye. Maddie proceeded with care and tried to forget that Fox was only a few feet away.

  * * *

  Fox absently fed Watson the green stubby end of a carrot as he watched Maddie with a smile. The picture she made in her proper gown, apron, and gloves, brandishing that shiny new hoe, was charmingly incongruous in these rowdy surroundings.

  "I think the young lady is expecting me," he whispered to Watson. "Stay right here until I come back." The horse nickered softly, showing his teeth.

  Fox approached Maddie with a welcome sense of euphoria. He'd been feeling like a man living, with ragged uncertainty, on the edge, and that unpleasant feeling had been worsening as more days passed without news of the Seventh Cavalry. It began to seem as if they'd simply vanished off the face of the earth. The house had distracted him for a while, but now it was harder to concentrate. Whiskey at night helped numb the worries, and he'd made more new friends since Bill Hickok's wagon train arrived. But he'd missed Maddie. She was the best distraction of all—and, he sensed, the riskiest.

  * * *

  Maddie had begun to chop the warm earth of her garden with delicate hoe strokes. The seedlings were doing very well, thanks to her trips to-and-fro with a watering can. They'd had only one thunderstorm all month, and Susan had reminded her that new plants needed to be kept wet. Sensing that this was merely a ploy to put her in Fox's way, she'd been careful until today to do her watering in the evening, after he'd gone off to commit whatever indiscretions he was partial to in the badlands.

  "Incredible. How have you done it?"

  She started and pressed a hand to her heart, even though she'd known he would come. Whirling around, she found that he was standing right behind her.

  "Did I startle you?" He put a hand on her arm, pretending to be solicitous, but knowing that it would unnerve her. "My apologies."

  "I am quite all right." For a long moment Maddie indulged in the luxury of staring at him, lean and masculine in snug, faded dungarees and a shirt of blue-striped ticking. The blue in the shirt accentuated his eyes, and the snow white background set off his warm, deep tan. Fox hadn't bothered with an undershirt, and Maddie was drawn to the portion of his chest that was visible behind several open buttons. She knew nothing at all about men's bodies, but this seemed to her to be an ideal male chest, just the sort a woman might dream of resting her cheek against....

  "I hope you don't mind that I came without an invitation, but I've been hoping for a guided tour of your garden ever since you told me about it during our picnic lunch," Fox was saying, quite aware of her dreamy scrutiny. "Look at these seedlings! Why, Miss Avery, you've been taking excellent care of them, yet I never see you outdoors. Have you been weeding and watering by moonlight?"

  "Certainly not. What a ridiculous notion." She began hoeing again so that she could turn her face away. "How is your house progressing?"

  "Very well, thank you. Titus has been edging n
earer a decline with each day that passes without a visit from you. He has decided that you are the most beautiful woman he's seen since leaving Cornwall."

  "Gramma Susan and I will have to return for another look. Perhaps tomorrow."

  Fox was shaking his head in wonder as he took in the size and complexity of Maddie's flower garden. At least two dozen feet long and five feet wide, it was patterned with many, many different types of seedlings planted in tinier beds in the shapes of squares, rectangles, and crescents. The designs were already interesting because each kind of green plant was unique, but it was easy to imagine how glorious it all would be later in the summer, when the colorful flowers would bloom.

  "It will be like a tapestry, I suppose," he mused, still staring. Then he smiled and looked over at Maddie. "Is that the idea? Would you believe me if I said that I am impressed with your creation, even without flowers?"

  The sun emerged from behind a tree, and she shaded her eyes with a gloved hand. Her delicate nose, dotted with one or two telltale freckles, wrinkled slightly as she replied, "Yes, I would believe you. I'm impressed myself! You know, I have always been passionate about gardens, but I never did any of the work. We had gardeners. Mother sometimes went out, wearing an apron, and she'd prune a bit and let me carry the basket and help her decide which flowers to cut for the house." Maddie glanced off over Fox's wide shoulder, as if looking back in time. "So you see, I've loved the beauty and order of an elegant garden since I was tiny, but it never occurred to me to grow anything myself. When we came out here, I imagined that I'd cook and clean and sew, but I've discovered that it takes time to develop those skills. And, one necessarily interested in any of those pastimes because one is female...."

  "But the garden is different?"

  She looked at Fox's tanned, chiseled face and remembered suddenly how his skin felt to the touch, how he smelled, the frightening rapture of his kiss. "The garden...?" she forced herself to repeat. "Yes, I've discovered that I can apparently not only appreciate flowers, but grow them, too. I love watching the minuscule changes each new morning brings. When the first bud appears, and then opens, I shall know how God must feel as He surveys the countless miracles of life that are always occurring. To have a hand in creation, even of a few flowers, is simply amazing to me!"

  Fox wanted to touch her cheek, but he was afraid that it would break the spell and scare her away again. "I have an idea, I think, of what you are feeling. I've found it surprisingly satisfying to plan and build my house. I've never built a home of my own before, let alone dreamed each detail."

  "I thought frontier men were used to building things for themselves," she said. "How long have you been out West... and where did you come from?"

  Fox hesitated as the glint of curiosity in Maddie's eyes reminded him that he couldn't afford to give away too much about his past. "Now, Miss Avery, you're being polite, but I know better than to imagine that you really want to hear me drone on about my life." He paused to yawn at the very thought. "Instead, I wish you would teach me about the flowers. Do you remember which is which?"

  It was an inspired diversion. Maddie fairly glowed with excitement as she handed him her hoe and reached into the deep pocket of her apron. From it she withdrew a folded piece of paper. Fox watched, curious, as it was opened to reveal a neatly plotted map of the garden. Each quadrangle or crescent had the name of a flower printed inside it.

  "Across the back are the hollyhocks and foxgloves, then canterbury bells and larkspur and columbine." Maddie was marching back and forth, pointing with one hand and holding the map in the other. "Here are blue cornflowers, over there is a circular bed of zinnias surrounded by daisies and stock, while this rectangular planting is pansies, flanked by sweet william and forget-me-nots. Behind them—"

  "Hey!" The rough, rude shout came from Fox's property.

  They both looked up, turning to see a short, homely man waving and advancing toward them. "Who is that?" asked Maddie.

  "Damned if I know," Fox muttered. As the fellow drew closer, Fox could see that he had the oddest-looking body, consisting of a soft, squarish torso poised on long, thin legs. He wore gray trousers rolled up partway to display black boots, a dirty blue shirt, a kerchief tied around his neck like a yellow bib, and a crumpled flat-brimmed hat. Reaching his quarry, the man stuck out a hand. "You the fella they call Fox?" he said. "Never mind, I know you are; they told me so over there. Pleased to meetcha. You probably heard of me. I'm Jane Cannary."

  "How do you do, Miss Cannary?" Fox replied, without missing a beat. Of course he had heard of Calamity Jane; who hadn't? Bullwhacker, scout, drunk, liar... she was the sort of human oddity that could thrive only in the West. Seeing that she was staring openly at Maddie, Fox took a closer look at her face. Calamity Jane couldn't have been thirty years old, yet her skin was as tanned and leathery as a man's, and her small eyes were bloodshot and greenish gray, smudged with fatigue. Her nose was flat, her mouth wide, and she had the bloated appearance of a hard drinker.

  Suddenly Jane let out a raucous whoop of laughter, then looked back at Fox while pointing at Maddie."Is she a joke? Last time I saw a lady all duded up like that it was on the Union Pacific train to Cheyenne. That lady—" she paused to spit out a stream of tobacco juice that threatened to dribble down her chin at the end"—was from London! Couldn't ya just howl? Daughter of a baron or some such horseshit. Had her nose in the air and a pretty white dress and gloves on just like this one. Bet she didn't last a month in Cheyenne, even for her husband's sake." Calamity Jane gave Maddie a sly glance. "How long you been in Deadwood, dearie?"

  Fox intervened, though the spark in Maddie's green eyes told him that she could speak for herself. "Miss Cannary, may I present Miss Madeleine Avery."

  "I'd shake yer hand, but I wouldn't wanta get those nice white gloves dirty. Where you from, Mad? You two married or somethin'?"

  Maddie tried desperately to disguise her confusion and dismay. Could this person actually be a woman? "How do you do, Miss Cannary," she murmured. "I've been in Deadwood nearly a month, having traveled here with my family from Philadelphia. And, no, Mr.... Fox and I are most definitely not married. We are merely... neighbors."

  "Well, I'm glad to hear that!" Jane leered at Fox, then continued cheerfully, "Philadelphia, huh? Almost as snooty as London, from what I hear. Never been there myself and I don't care—"

  "Miss Cannary," Fox broke in, "did you come here with a purpose, or by accident?"

  She jammed her hands into her pockets and grinned, showing a set of stained teeth. "Oh, I had a purpose all right. Heard about you, mister, from Garnet Loomis, and decided to come and see for myself. I'm one determined gal, I don't mind tellin' you!"

  "I'll take your word for it. At the moment, however, I have a few things I must discuss with Miss Avery, so I'd appreciate it if you would—"

  "Go away?" Jane crowed with laughter. "I kin take a hint, mister. No offense, neither. I'll have my chance. Before I go, I gotta pass along a message from Wild Bill. It's the excuse that got me up here today. Bill says he has some news for you. Says it's about what you talked about before, whatever that means. G'bye!"

  Calamity Jane turned and started walking away, her stride long and loose-limbed. Near the row of pine trees, she pivoted suddenly and shouted, "Hey, pard! If you need another pair of hands to help build that fancy house, I'm damned good with a hammer! I work cheap, too!"

  Fox waved to her again, nodding, and didn't look back at Maddie until their outrageous visitor had disappeared from sight.

  "I knew there were some very strange characters in Deadwood, but who was that?" Maddie shook her head in disbelief.

  "That was Calamity Jane. Have you ever heard of her?" Fox's thoughts were already darting off toward the news Hickok had to impart, but he didn't want to leave Maddie yet. "Calamity's a legend, but a lot of it's made up of stories she tells about herself, especially after she's had a few drinks. She's strange, but harmless."

  "Now that you put it that way, I suppose
I ought to feel sorry for her, but it's hard to summon kindness toward someone who has just been ridiculing me." She gave him a shy smile. "In a few moments, I'm certain I'll feel more sympathetic."

  Fox wanted to hug her, and he did dare to put one hand on her back in a gesture that was halfway between a pat and a caress. "I'm sure that Miss Cannary hasn't had the benefit of your proper breeding. She treats everyone that way, from what I hear. She's cruder than most men."

  "How charming." Maddie felt a shiver run down her back from the touch of his hand. "Aren't you curious to learn what Mr. Hickok is waiting to tell you? Benjamin would be positively agog to hear that you know his hero. He's talked of little else since that wagon train arrived in Deadwood."

  "I'll take Ben over to meet Bill as soon as I have a chance, if it would mean that much—"

  "Please don't!" she exclaimed. "I am doing everything in my power to discourage his new fascination with desperadoes!"

  Fox rubbed his jaw and smiled slowly. "I'm afraid that you're living in the wrong town... but then you already know that, don't you." His other hand still rested on her back, and now he drew her closer. A ray of sunlight broke through the trees and illuminated Maddie's exquisite hair. He ached to bury his face in it, then press his mouth to her temple, her creamy throat. Instead, he dared to brush his face against the softness of her hair. "You wish," he whispered, "that someone different lived next door, don't you? A gentleman in every way, who reads the Romantic poets and wears a paper collar as a matter of habit, and always behaves in the best of taste—"

  "Don't be silly," Maddie broke in, her voice trembling. "There are no such men in Deadwood."

  "And if there were?"

  Her heart began to race as Fox drew her closer until her breasts grazed the unyielding surface of his chest. Her cheek touched the starchy fabric of his blue-striped shirt. It smelled fresh and new... and yet like him. "We—we shouldn't be speaking of such matters, Mr. Daniel." She could barely get the words out.