A look of faint amusement flashed across his face. “The wolf or the dog?”
Now, she blushed beet red.
Maggie, sensing the growing attraction between Eden and the half-breed, stepped in before Colin said something he might later regret. “I think it was very kind of Wolf to bring the dog to you.”
“It would seem Blake's become your paladin, Eden,” her father said in a measured voice. “Just be careful you don't get too attracted to your new friend.”
“Why? Are you sending him to the lumber mills? When the job's done, will he leave Arizona?”
Colin shrugged. “A man like Blake makes his own rules, Eden. He signs on only until the job's finished. Then he drifts. He's going to the mill tomorrow. In fact, I'm taking him over there in the morning.”
“Be careful, Colin,” Maggie said softly, remembering how he had come home from his last trip to the mill, shot and tied unconscious to his horse.
Their eyes met and held until he nodded silently. Then, she looked away with a faint flush suffusing her cheeks. What would tonight bring?
Colin wondered himself; but decided it was safer to concentrate on Eden's interest in Blake, which unsettled him. She had not shown any sense in her choices of men to date—first that weakling Stanley, then that murdering outlaw Lazlo, and now a breed gunman who was as reliable as a tumbleweed. “Eden, only remember that Wolf is a loner—a man who doesn't fit in white society any more than he does with the Apache.”
“We have a great deal in common, then. I don't fit in our society either,” Eden replied with a catch in her voice. She had wanted to know how he felt about Wolf and now she did.
“You're not in the position of a half-breed gunman, Eden,” Colin replied sternly.
“No! I'm not. No one dares cross him—they're afraid of his gun. They may hate him, but they respect him. I'm despised. The women cross the streets so they won't risk contamination, and the men leer at me. If I gave them a chance, half the respectable pillars of Prescott would probably offer to make me their mistress!” She shoved back her chair and rushed from the room with tears blinding her.
Colin started to rise, his face ashen, but Maggie placed her hand over his, shaking her head. “Let her go, Colin. She's upset now and entitled to a good cry. Anyway, I've been meaning to talk to you about Wolf Blake.”
He looked at her incredulously. “I hope you don't want to encourage Eden's attachment to him? She's only doing it because she feels like an outcast now.”
“Perhaps, but I don't think so. He's not like Lazlo. I've become a good judge of men over the years. There's a core of strength and decency in Wolf Blake. He was drawn to Eden from the moment he laid eyes on her—and she responded. I think it's more than just the tragic circumstances of their meeting. I know he leads a dangerous life, but he could change. Out here, lots of men do. What about you? What did you do before you became a respectable rancher and businessman?”
Her question caught him off guard and he looked up into her eyes, startled. I slaughtered Wolf's mother's people like cattle. How much of his gory past had he revealed when he was raving feverishly to her? He studied her face for a moment, but was unable to read anything but concern. His thoughts whirled chaotically in his head as he combed his fingers through his hair. “Point well taken, Maggie. I suppose a father always dreams of his daughter marrying a rich, polished gentleman.”
“Do you hold Wolf's Apache blood against him?”
“No, but you've lived in this part of the country long enough to know that isn't the issue. Almost everyone hates Apaches—fanatically. Eden's got troubles enough of her own. I've been thinking...when she's feeling up to it, maybe you could take her to San Francisco—or even back East. I know a few brokers in Chicago and St. Louis. One of their wives might be willing to sponsor her in society. If I could find someone who'd do it, Eden would have a second chance.”
“For another man like Edward Stanley?” Maggie shook her head. “He was wrong for her the first time. She doesn't want that kind of man, no matter how much she repents falling into Lazlo's trap. You'd be sending her away from the only home and family she's ever known to live in a big city among strangers.”
“I don't want to do it, but, hell...” He shrugged helplessly.
“What if she did choose Blake? He's bright. It isn't as if you don't need someone to take over your empire one day, Colin. No one's immortal.”
He gave her a rueful grin in spite of himself. “That your way of saying I'm getting old?”
“Hardly that,” she replied, remembering his passionate lovemaking that afternoon. If only she could give him a son and heir. She pushed the sad impossibility aside, hating the way his very presence brought heat to her cheeks. “Will you give Wolf a chance? Just observe him awhile and then decide if he's good enough for Eden.”
“It’s apparent that he’s educated,” Colin said carefully. “I wonder what he'd choose to do if he hung up his guns.”
“I think he'd make an excellent stockman. He has a special affinity for animals. You should have seen that dog respond when he picked the poor thing up and carried it to Doc Watkins.”
“He's wonderful with horses,” Colin agreed.
“That must be his mother's blood,” Maggie said.
Colin laughed mirthlessly at that. “Not likely. Apaches use horses only as a means of escaping pursuit. They ride them until the pathetic beasts die of exhaustion, then eat them and use their intestines to make water bags.”
Maggie was startled at his matter-of-fact statement. It seemed incongruous for a man who fought for an end to the mistreatment of the Apaches, an unpopular cause in this blood-soaked territory. “You sound as if you used to live with them.”
A strange expression passed over his face. Then he erased it and stood up. “No, I never did. If you'll excuse me, I'm going outside on the porch to smoke a cigar.”
Maggie sat disconsolately at the table, looking at the remains of Eileen's lovingly prepared feast. Things seldom work out the way we plan them. Would Colin take her to his bed again, now that their marriage was consummated? Did she want him to, knowing that after the pleasure, there would always be his guilt and regret looming between them? Just thinking of the pain was unbearable. She lay her head in her hands and closed her eyes, struggling to gather her thoughts.
Perhaps, he suggested sending her and Eden east as a way to rid himself of a wife he had never wanted. But no, Colin dearly loved his daughter and he would never sacrifice her happiness for any reason, even his own peace of mind. After all, Eden was all he had left of Elizabeth, the wife of his heart. Listlessly, Maggie stood up and began to scrape the dishes.
Eileen bustled in with a startled look on her face. “Sure and you don't need to be doin' Rita's job. She'll be along in a minute. I'm to take it my matchmakin' didn't work?”
“Oh, it worked, Eileen, believe me!” Maggie busied herself handing the stacked plates to the housekeeper.
“Then that's why the both of ye and Miz Eden enjoyed yer dinner so much?” the old woman asked shrewdly, watching the normally calm Maggie fidget nervously. She placed her reddened hand over Maggie's. “I'm sorry if my interferin' has caused more troubles.”
“No. Colin spoke the truth when he said it was bound to happen, but now that it has...” She shrugged helplessly. I’ll always remember the beauty in what we could have had—did have for a few brief, blissful moments.
A smug smile lit the housekeeper's homely face. “Well now, let's just let nature take its course for a while.” Then her expression turned serious as she recalled the scene she had witnessed between Eden and the half-breed earlier that afternoon. One look into Maggie's haunted eyes convinced Eileen that this was not the time to burden her with another problem. She would just keep an eye on Wolf Blake herself.
Chapter Twelve
“You're fired! Pack up and get out this very instant.” Fatty Algren's normally florid face was crimson with rage as he waved a copy of yesterday's Arizona Miner in front of
Ed Phibbs' face. His hands were trembling and sweat beaded his upper lip.
“You're scared out of your wits, aren't you, Fatty?” Ed smiled inwardly when his face went bluish purple with rage at her use of the hated nickname. Well, she certainly had nothing to lose now. There was no reasoning with the old fool. “Your friends in Tucson won't be pleased. Maybe Win Barker will even send someone to try and kill you the way he did Colin McCrory.”
As Ed gathered her meager belongings from the cluttered table in the back of the office, she was pleased that he paled with fright. Her exposé of the atrocious conditions at the White Mountain Reservation, as well as the article she had done mentioning Caleb Lamp's Prescott bank account, had made some dangerous enemies for the Miner. “You've got a lot of explaining to do to some very powerful men in Tucson—and some legislators here in Prescott, too,” she added with a gummy smile that made him shake with fear.
“What do you know about the legislature?” he asked with a quake of incredulity in his voice. “I won't be the only one Barker will be after, you know,” he added, his eyes narrowing to fatty slits. “I think I'll just tell him it's you who's done all this digging.”
She grinned sharkishly. “Why don't you do that—if you have the nerve to face Barker. I certainly intend to confront him.”
As the two antagonists argued, Maggie stood in the doorway of the big cluttered office. She had been about to knock on the partially open door when she heard Colin's name mentioned. That peculiar female reporter knew something about the attempts to kill her husband!
Maggie's thoughts flashed instantly to Colin, the man whose name—and now whose bed—she shared. So much had changed in the past two months since they had consummated the marriage that he had never wanted. Yet so much had remained the same. Colin went about his work, taciturn and cool, polite for Eden's sake, but unforgiving to Maggie for the way she had invaded his life. Yet, no matter how distant he was during the days, each night he came to her bed. He had never again taken her into his bedroom, that inner sanctum where Elizabeth's presence hovered. Maggie filled her days with work in the busy ranch house and tried not to think of the bittersweet nights with Colin—or that they might come to an end.
The thought that he might ask her to leave she could bear. That he might be killed was unthinkable. What did Ed Phibbs know about Colin's enemies in Tucson? Maggie had come to town with Colin to meet the special investigator sent by the Bureau of Indian Affairs, Leonard Potkin, whose stage was to arrive tomorrow. She had only stopped by the Miner to thank Ed Phibbs for writing the kind article welcoming her to Prescott as Colin's new bride. Although only a few months ago, it now seemed a lifetime to Maggie.
Living in isolation on Crown Verde, they did not send riders to Prescott for the paper. After Colin had been shot, there was such an uproar that no one would have had time to read it anyway. Events here in Prescott must really have moved rapidly without their knowledge. Apparently, Ed Phibbs had stirred up quite a hornets' nest while her employer was away. When it became apparent that the exchange between the owner and reporter was over, Maggie knocked perfunctorily on the door and walked into the room.
“I'm interested in purchasing some back issues of the Miner,” she said, smiling at Ed, who returned her smile, revealing buck teeth and a surprising amount of healthy pink gums. Fatty Algren's face was thunderous.
“I was wondering when you'd get word about my crusade, Mrs. McCrory. How is your husband's recovery progressing?” Ed asked, for the moment cheerfully resigned to her unemployed status.
“There are no back copies for sale,” Algren said abruptly, cutting off Maggie's reply to Ed. “I would appreciate it if both you ladies”—he emphasized the word insultingly—“would leave my office.”
“I'd be delighted, Mr. Algren,” Maggie said sardonically, then turned to Ed. “Could I perhaps buy you lunch, Miss Phibbs? I think we have a great deal to discuss.”
Ed grinned, hefting an unwieldy canvas knapsack over one bony but sturdy shoulder. “Lunch sounds grand, Mrs. McCrory. Just grand.” As soon as they were out the door and out of earshot, she patted the knapsack. “I have copies of every issue I ran while Fatty was away—right here.”
Over fried pork chops and cream gravy at the Guild Restaurant, the two women discussed what Ed had unearthed about the Tucson Ring. “So, although I have nothing to link Win Barker to any one councilman or representative, I do know that Barker's getting information about federal contracts and Army patrol movements from somewhere in the Bureau of Indian Affairs—the only likely source is through the legislature.”
“Or the governor, but I admit that's not very likely,” Maggie said.
Ed threw back her head and laughed. “John Fremont has scarcely put in an appearance in the territory since his appointment. And as to that sanctimonious prig who's acting governor, John Gosper's too busy being a martyr to be a crook.”
“So what are you going to do—now that you no longer have a newspaper to support your investigations or print your findings?” Maggie knew the tenacious woman would never give up.
“If I get the whole dirty ring exposed, newspapers from Santa Fe to Tucson will clamor to print the story.” Ed leaned forward, her neck protruding across the table rather like a vulture's. “I must confess to an ulterior motive when I wrote that society piece welcoming you to Prescott, Mrs. McCrory. I needed to get into your husband's good graces. I think we could work on this together.”
As if befriending me could get anyone in Colin 's good graces. “Colin wants Caleb Lamp dismissed and himself appointed Indian agent for White Mountain. I know he'd be interested in what you've learned about Win Barker's ties to the territorial government. The Bureau of Indian Affairs is sending a special investigator to Prescott.”
“I know. Have you heard when he'll arrive?” Ed asked eagerly.
“On tomorrow's stage from Santa Fe. Colin's been invited to dinner with him tomorrow evening and hopes to take him to White Mountain for a real investigation. That's why we came to town today.”
Ed's gray eyes brightened. ”I could give him plenty of new material—we could exchange information.”
“Yes, I'm sure you could,” Maggie replied thoughtfully. “Let me talk to Colin and see if I can arrange things.”
* * * *
As he crossed the deserted restaurant, Colin studied the gaunt features and hovering posture of the female reporter. She looks like a roadrunner ready to spear a sidewinder. “Good afternoon, Miss Phibbs. Maggie seems to feel you have some information that would be valuable to me,” he said. Hat in hand, he stood in front of the secluded corner table where Ed sat with her note pad and pencil ready.
Ed favored him with an assessing nod. “Please be seated, Mr. McCrory. I'm grateful your wife was able to arrange this meeting. I think we can be certain of privacy here.”
The small, run-down restaurant was really a crude log cabin left by some miner gone off in pursuit of another bonanza. His deserted structure was taken over by an old woman of mixed blood who served greasy meat and hard cornbread for a cheap price.
Down-and-out miners, out-of-work cowboys and an occasional drifter frequented the place. Right now it was deserted, which made it ideal for their meeting.
“You eat here often?” Colin asked as old Matilda Wiggins waddled over, rubbing none too clean hands on a grimy apron.
“The venison stew is edible,” Ed replied noncommittally.
“She wouldn't have a tot of whiskey to disinfect it?” he asked hopefully.
Ed Phibbs drew herself up sternly. “I'm afraid I must warn you that I am Temperance, Mr. McCrory—so is Matilda.” She added sotto voce, “Although I suspect her reasons for not serving liquor here have less to do with principle than with the inability to afford licensure from the local sheriff.”
They ordered, then got down to business. Colin laid out what he knew about Lamp's cattle thefts and the tie-in with the Tucson Ring. “I know he's working for Win Barker, but I can't prove it. Unless I can get some
help from Washington to investigate conditions on the reservation, my hands are tied.”
“You've found the territorial authorities in Prescott less than helpful?” she asked, chewing thoughtfully on the end of her pencil, as if trying to reach a decision.
“Everyone here hates Apaches. If the Tucson merchants cheat them—better yet starve them—it's fine with the government.”
“You're a most unlikely man, Colin McCrory, to champion the Apaches.” Her gray gaze studied him intently from beneath thin, elongated eyebrows.
The hairs on the back of his neck stood up in warning. “What makes you say that?”
“I'm a reporter. I dig up all the background—past history—I can find on prominent people who are involved in the news.” Ed studied the wary tension in him. He could be a dangerous man, but his eyes met hers levelly. She plunged ahead. “I know all about you and the Aussie—your past as a scalper before you took the small fortune you'd made in Mexico and became one of Arizona's leading citizens.”
Colin swore beneath his breath. The infernal female sat across from him, studying him with those god-awful pop eyes of hers, as calm as if she'd just called a temperance meeting to order. He could feel sweat pooling beneath his armpits and between his shoulder blades. “I guess sooner or later someone was bound to find out. What do you plan to do about it?”
“Nothing. Besmirching your sterling reputation would be a big story, I suppose—if I were into that sort of sensational journalism. I assure you I am not.”
They were interrupted when Matilda finally appeared with two bowls of spicy-smelling stew. As soon as she had served them and ambled back to her kitchen, Colin shoved the food aside and asked, “Then what in the hell do you want?”
“A real story—the whole exposé about the Tucson Ring. The merchants' contacts high up in government. I saw appalling conditions on the reservation. No wonder the Indians turn renegade, running off to do mayhem.”
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