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I'll help Mr. Hernandez unload the mules and I'll find our supper fixings."
    She'd just tied her horse to one of the trees when she heard Cutter Hanratty snarl, "Touch that mule, mister, and you're a dead man."
    Whirling, Fox grasped the situation in a flash. Peaches was on one side of the money mule and Hanratty stood on the other side, a gun pointing at Peaches's chest.
    Moving fast she came up on Hanratty's side, then slipped between him and the mule. The bags of coins pushed at her back, she felt the barrel of Hanratty's gun drop to her stomach.
    And she suspected Hanratty felt the tip of her knife pressed against his side, just above the waist of his trousers.
    "Put the gun down, right now." Her voice shook with fury. "You don't pull a gun on anyone in this party, understand?" Leaning forward, she let the knife press hard enough that he glanced down and swore.
    "Nobody touches the gold."
    "It's Mr. Hernandez's job to care for the animals and pack and unpack them." The gun didn't waver and neither did her knife. They stood close enough that Fox smelled him, could see little bubbles of spit at the corners of his mouth.
    He bared his teeth. "Tanner didn't say nobody except Mr. Hernandez touches the gold. He said nobody."
    "It appears I was shortsighted," Tanner said. His hand came down on Hanratty's shoulder and he spun him around, shoving down the hand with the gun, "I trust Mr. Hernandez to unload the coins. And I trust anyone here who wants to help him." His gaze locked on Hanratty's. "Stow the weapon, Cutter. Right now."
    Peaches released a long low breath then threw up the tarp and studied the lumpy bank bags as if nothing had happened. "Where you want me to put these?"
    "Put them near my bedroll and cover them with my saddle."
    "Don't you ever do something like that again," Fox said to Hanratty, speaking between her teeth.
    Hanratty moved backward and made a show of shoving the gun into a hip holster. "I was just doing my job. No harm done."
    Fox studied his small eyes and rough, stubbled face. "And I was just doing my job. No harm done." But she was mistaken. A small dot of blood appeared on Hanratty's shirt above his waist. She'd either scratched or jabbed him. "Sorry."
    Hanratty pulled up his shirt and stared at a small puncture in disbelief. "Well, goddamn," he said, turning to show Jubal Brown the drop of blood on his skin. "She knifed me!"
    "You ain't never going to live that down," Brown said with a grin. They both stared at Fox like they were just seeing her. "Ma'am, that was the bravest, stupidest thing I ever saw anyone do. You know how many men this man has shot down?"
    "I don't give a rat's ass," Fox said, returning their stares. "Just don't go shooting anyone in this party." They kept staring at her like she'd grown a foot taller.
    "Whichever one of you is going to cook tonight, get going."
    "Looks like you're the cook," Hanratty said to Jubal Brown. "I can't do it, I'm wounded."
    It took forty-five minutes longer than it should have to set up camp and get the coffee and some steaks on the fire. They would get quicker and more efficient in the next few days as the group established a routine.
    Fox washed the supper plates in the river and stacked them near the fire for breakfast. As with any good campsite, the coffeepot stayed over the coals and everyone had retained his cup. It pleased her that none of the men brought out a whiskey bottle. If they had a bottle, they were saving it for a special occasion. That augured well for the trip.
    They sat in a ring around the fire pit, drinking coffee, not talking much as the sun dropped below the horizon in a burst of deep blue and gold. Immediately Fox felt the temperature plummet. With the warm days they'd been having, it was easy to forget that February was usually a cold month.
    Jubal Brown tossed back his coffee then lit a cigar. "Might as well get this over with. Find out where everyone stands. Union or Confederate."
    Fox was astounded. "I didn't imagine