Powder River by S.K. Salzer Page A

Paradise Valley, but he’d had his fill of working for another man, of spending his time and energy looking after someone else’s interests. He was ready to be his own boss. Beyond that, the isolation of ranch life was hard on children. The twins especially needed school and civilizing.
    â€œMoney is no object,” Faucett said, misinterpreting Dixon’s hesitation. “I need a man I can trust, and one who can start immediately. Name your price.”
    Before Dixon could answer, they were interrupted by a woman’s voice from the curving stairway.
    â€œOh, do be quiet, Richard,” she said. “Our guest isn’t interested in becoming another one of your cow servants. Leave the poor man alone.”
    The two men got to their feet as she entered the room. The woman was tall, taller than her husband, and striking, with pale hair worn in a gleaming chignon and skin that was white and unblemished. She wore a silk brocade dress, cut low in the European fashion, of an ivory color that accentuated her cool, bloodless beauty. Unlike her husband, Lady Faucett was not English. In her speech, Dixon heard the languorous lilt of the American South.
    â€œMy darling,” Faucett said, “come meet our neighbor, Daniel Dixon, the physician. I’ve no intention of making him one of my cow servants, as you say. I want him to join me as a kind of partner. Dr. Dixon, may I introduce my wife, Odalie?”
    When she offered her hand, Dixon, because of her exoticness, was not sure whether to clasp it or raise it to his lips. He chose the latter. As their eyes met, he felt a shock of recognition, a stirring he had not experienced in years. He knew these eyes; they were large and blue, rimmed with long dark lashes. What moved him most was not the beauty of those eyes but the delicate, dewy skin below them, faintly blue or maybe silver, that made them so remarkable. Rose’s eyes.
    â€œSo nice to meet you at last, Doctor,” she said. Dixon saw surprise and amusement on her lovely face, and he realized he was still holding her hand.
    â€œThe pleasure is mine, Lady Faucett,” he said, finally releasing her hand.
    * * *
    The meal began with chicken gumbo soup, served with a crusty, French-style bread, followed by a broiled leg of lamb bathed in an oyster sauce made rich with sweet butter and cream. After this, a fricassee of veal, served with mashed potatoes and asparagus points, and, to finish, English plum pudding with brandy sauce. Chang served the food, cleared the plates, and kept the wine flowing throughout.
    â€œLady Faucett, I do believe that was the best meal I’ve ever had,” Dixon said without exaggeration. As a young man growing up in Lexington, Kentucky, and later as a physician-in-training in Cincinnati, he had patronized the finest restaurants those sophisticated cities had to offer, but nothing to compare with this. “Where did you find such a cook?”
    Odalie smiled happily, revealing dimples in both cheeks. “Arnaud—he is a treasure, isn’t he? I discovered him last year on a journey home. I poached him from a Mississippi steamer. I’m worried though; I don’t know how long I’ll be able to keep him. We pay him handsomely, God knows, but one of those railroad tycoons in Denver will woo him away soon, I fear. It’s already been attempted.”
    â€œI’m not surprised,” Dixon said. “And where is home?”
    â€œNew Orleans. Do you know it?”
    â€œYes, though I haven’t been there since before the war. I remember it as a lovely but strange city, like being in another country.” In fact, though it would be impolite to say so, Dixon had been happy to leave the place. He and his traveling companion had made the mistake of visiting in summer, and his friend, a fellow medical student, had fallen ill with yellow fever and very nearly died. When Dixon thought of New Orleans, he saw jaundiced skin, yellow eyes,