“Been up to San Francisco once. Didn’t suit me.”
Eliza smiled, trying to picture Ford in the middle of a bustling, hectic city. She had no doubt that he could take care of himself in a frenzied crowd of people, but a man like him wouldn’t be comfortable surrounded by a sea of humanity.
“We won’t be going to San Francisco, then?”
“No, I’m not interested in digging for gold.”
He’d rather kill for it, she thought, but didn’t say it. So what if it was true? He wasn’t doing anything outside the law, and if Corbett had been as bad as Ford claimed…
Well, the ass did burn down her house and shoot her best friend.
Eliza blushed, shocked by her own thoughts. She had never used profanity in her life, but now the language of frustration, anger, and even brutality wormed its way daily into her thoughts. Corbett wasan ass, the swaybacked horse wasdamned, and sometimes she hated Ford for what he had done to her life.