by Sylvia Nobel
She shrugged. “Mr. Hutton said he’d known my mother since high school and that she trusted him to keep her secret.”
“I’m wondering why Dr. Orcutt contacted you first. Was Mr. Hutton aware of your mother’s medical condition?”
Grimacing from the heat, she sank into the passenger seat and fumbled with the seat belt before answering. “He said he had written instructions from her not to release these papers to me until he’d received formal notice of my father’s death. Dr. Orcutt sent him a copy of the death certificate along with a note telling him that he planned to contact me.”
“I see. It seems your mother was very methodical,” I said, maneuvering the car into traffic. “She apparently thought of everything.”
Back on the main highway once more, Audrey sat huddled against the passenger door facing the window, her legs tucked beneath her. Her body language clearly conveyed her desire to be left alone, so I kept my own counsel, sensing that one single question directed at her now would only cause her to withdraw further. I sighed inwardly. This was going to be no easy assignment. The information in the letter from her mother had piqued my curiosity to no end—especially the part about the secrets of the dead being buried with them. Talk about melodramatic. But, that statement combined with the other carefully veiled sentences reaffirmed my belief that this was going to be one hell of a story when we got to the bottom of all the whys and wherefores.
I set the cruise control at seventy-five and let my mind drift. For a time, I raced with a Southern Pacific freight train until it picked up speed and vanished into the spectacular panorama now unfolding before me––endless miles of Sonoran desert dotted with yucca and cholla and dressed out with stately stands of saguaro cactus stretching away into the distance to meld with majestic mountain ranges.
An hour later, feeling recharged with the sheer exhilaration of being on the open road, I swung off the freeway and headed south again. The two-lane highway began a gentle climb that gradually transformed the prickly landscape into golden grasslands blanketed with clumps of mesquite and greasewood.
Rounding the crest of a hill, I felt a mild twinge of uneasiness at the scene ahead. Thunderheads that only hours ago had been snowy plumes, were gathering into an ominous curtain of charcoal gray streaked periodically with jagged forks of lightning.
The clouds seemed to grow blacker with each passing moment and my nervousness increased. I slid a quick look at Audrey. Apparently asleep, her head lolled gently with the rocking motion of the car. No point in worrying her. She’d been through enough turmoil today.
Having personally been at the mercy of a violent summer storm not that long ago, I viewed them with equal parts of fascination and dismay. I switched on the radio, keeping the volume low, and roamed through the channels hoping to catch a weather report. It was obvious we were getting closer to the Mexican border because I had trouble finding a station where the announcer spoke something other than Spanish.
After a time, Audrey stirred, yawned, and said out-of-the-blue, “You’ve got the prettiest red hair I’ve ever seen.”
“Well, thank you.”
“I always wanted to wear mine long and curly like that, but Mom always cut it short.” She paused and I could feel her eyes on me. “I’ll bet you have a boyfriend, don’t you?”
Okay, I thought. She wants to chitchat. Talk about something mundane and safe. Probably anything to avoid the painful topic that had to be tearing her up inside.
“Yep,” I answered with a wide smile. “Tally writes the sports section at the newspaper.”
“Tally? That’s a strange name.”
I laughed. “It’s a nickname. His name is really Bradley Talverson and he owns and operates the Starfire, which just happens to be one of the biggest cattle ranches in the state.”
“Hmmm. So he’s rich. And is he also tall, dark and handsome?” Her words had a wistful edge.
“As a matter of fact, he is.”
She sat in silence a few seconds and then said, “So, if he’s so rich, why is he working at your newspaper?”
“It’s a rather long story, but let’s just say it takes his mind off the problems of running a ranch. And how about you? Do you have a boyfriend?”
“Once. For about two weeks. Until I had one of my seizures. Then he took off like a scalded dog.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“It hurt a lot at first, but I’m used to people getting grossed out. One day I asked my friend Robin to tell me what I look like when I’m...you know, and she said it’s really kind of awful so I guess I don’t blame him. And by the way, promise me you won’t tell anyone about my epilepsy.”
I tossed her a skeptical look. “That medic alert bracelet is kind of a dead giveaway, wouldn’t you say?”
She fingered it thoughtfully for a moment. “It’s only to let people know if I happen to have a seizure in public. But I don’t just march up and tell people because...well, they treat me funny,” she said, her tone ripe with melancholy. “So, please say you won’t tell.”
A little voice inside warned me that might not be wise, but I reluctantly agreed.
“And listen. If I should happen to have one in front of you, don’t panic. I’m not going to die. I’m not going to swallow my tongue. And for heaven’s sake, please don’t call the fire department like they did once when I was in grade school.”
“So...I should do...nothing?”
“Most of the time. Except if I might, you know, crack my head on something sharp. Lately, I’ve been having them in my sleep, but if I’m awake, I usually have some warning.”
“Like how?” I asked, navigating the car against the growing force of the wind. I didn’t want to say anything to frighten her, but the darkening sky was worrisome, especially since I was totally unfamiliar with the road situation up ahead.
“That’s kind of hard to explain,” she went on, nervously twirling the bracelet on her wrist. “Sometimes there’s what the doctors call an aura. It’s a really weird feeling that just comes over you. It’s like...well, you can hear, see and smell when a seizure is coming. When that happens, I have time to sit down or lie down on the floor. But most of the time I get caught by surprise and it’s more like being hit over the head with a hammer.”
“I see,” I answered, not really paying close attention to her as I searched for the landmark that would signal our turn onto the shortcut. The gas station attendant I’d questioned in Tucson had confirmed that it would take us over the Dragoon Mountains, bypassing Tombstone and Bisbee. He’d also said it would clip at least twenty-five miles off our trip and that sounded pretty good to me at that particular moment.
When the late afternoon sun vanished behind a cloud, Audrey finally sat up and took notice. “Well, what do you know,” she marveled, gawking out the window. “Looks like we’re going to have a shower.”
“A shower might be a bit of an understatement, I’m afraid. These summer storms can sometimes pack quite a punch.”
“Well, is it safe to keep going? I mean, should we stop?” she asked in a faint voice, nibbling again at her thumbnail.
I tried to sound confident. “I don’t think there’s anything to worry about. The whole thing could easily blow away without a drop, but the sooner we get to Morgan’s Folly the better.”
If I hadn’t been looking for the burned-out ranch house flanked by a tattered wind mill, I’d have never seen the old road angling off to the left, almost hidden from sight between chest-high weeds and ragged pinions bordering the main highway. I braked and turned sharply, my eyes following the narrow band of asphalt that snaked across a flat valley and disappeared into squat foothills beyond.
We headed east, away from the path of the oncoming storm and I immediately felt better. There were even a few patches of blue sky showing. “By the way,” I began, filling the lull in conversation, “did Dr. Orcutt give you any instructions on what we’re supposed to do when we arrive?”
“Oh, I forgot to tell you. The last th
ing he said before hanging up was that I should go directly to his place. He said it was right near the clinic on...I think it was Quarry Street. I have the directions here,” she said, scooping up her purse. She pulled out a piece of paper and stared at it, her brows knitted in a pensive frown.
“What is it?” I asked, dividing my attention between her and the road.
“He also said something else that was...well, sort of strange, I thought.”
“What?”
“He said it was very important that I not talk to anyone else in town before talking to him. Why do you suppose he’d say that?”
I shook my head. “I don’t know. Perhaps he’s got information that will help smooth the way for you. Most likely somebody’s been running things until now and...” Her sudden giggle surprised me. “What?”
“I was just thinking of my mother. She used to say life is what happens to you while you’re making other plans and I sure never planned to be...what?” She hunched her shoulders. “Mayor or something?”
“It will be interesting to find out.”
The narrow road didn’t look very well traveled, but it was in reasonably good condition as it meandered through odd cone-shaped mounds that changed in color from cinnamon to deep vermilion as cloud shadows passed over them. We’d gone about four or five miles when it suddenly occurred to me that there’d been no other traffic since leaving the main highway. But no sooner had the thought materialized than I noticed a white pick-up pull out of a side road a couple of hundred yards ahead of us and accelerate around the corner.
The road narrowed even further into a series of challenging switchbacks and became more rutted as we wound over mountainous terrain that offered heart-stopping views before plunging into deep canyons. I spotted the white truck ahead of us every now and then, but with that exception, there were no other vehicles.
“We need to stop,” Audrey announced suddenly. “I feel sick.”
I took my eyes off the road long enough to notice her greenish complexion, then quickly searched for a safe place to pull over. As soon as I stopped, she got out and ran to the side of the road where she fell to her knees and began to retch.
I expelled a weary sigh and shut off the engine. Poor kid. Apparently, the unending switchbacks had made her carsick. Maybe the shortcut hadn’t been such a great idea after all. But it seemed foolish to turn back at this point.
I left her alone for a few minutes and studied the map again. The exit to Morgan’s Folly was only a mile ahead, but the remaining three would be on a dirt road. That didn’t appeal to me one bit. Add bumps to another curving road and she might be sick the rest of the trip, I thought grimly, pushing open the car door. Not to mention the fact that it was getting late and I was beat.
A sudden blast of wind took me by surprise. I looked up and my heart faltered. The sky above looked positively menacing. Uh oh! Our twists and turns had taken us right back into the path of the storm. If it was already raining in the mountains ahead of us...
Thunder rumbled ominously so I hurried over to where Audrey now sat, her forehead resting on her knees. Not wanting to alarm her, I did my best to sound unruffled. “Audrey, are you okay?”
“I think so.”
“If you’re up to it, we probably ought to get going.” I hoped she wouldn’t suffer the consequences of losing her medication.
Her eyes were full of wonder when she raised her head. “Audrey,” she repeated, in a half-whisper. “Audrey Morgan. It sounds so...weird to hear you call me that. And look at this.” She swept her hand in a wide arc. “I was born right here in these mountains. Can you believe it? And my father lived here and died here...and I don’t even remember him.”
“Did Dr. Orcutt tell you how he died?”
She shook her head. “No. Just that he’d been in the hospital for a long time.”
I could tell by her wide-eyed look that she didn’t know what I knew about Grady Morgan’s questionable death. I wrestled with the idea of sharing the information mentioned in the newspaper article with her, but decided against it. I’d verify it with the sheriff’s department first.
Still closed in her own thoughts, Audrey seemed oblivious to the thunder echoing around us and to the moan of the rising wind.
I offered my hand to her. “We’ve got to go. It’s only a few miles further.”
The first drops of rain splattered on us and she blinked in puzzlement, seeming to finally notice that we were about to get drenched. “Mmmm. That smells good,” she said, allowing me to haul her to her feet. “And it’s so much cooler. This is really heaven.”
I hated to tell her that it would be anything but that in a few minutes, but I didn’t have to. When we reached the crest of the ridge, the gravity of the situation came home to her. “My God,” she gasped, staring in horror. “That looks like a tornado!”
Chapter 4
The adrenaline rush doubled my heart rate. It may not have been an actual tornado, but the funnel-like cloud descending from the inky sky looked menacing enough to make me grip the wheel and say a silent prayer as hail began to clatter against the windshield and careen off the hood.
“There’s the turn-off,” she shouted, pointing to the dirt road coming up on our left.
Wrenching the wheel, I accelerated through an open gate past a weather worn sign reading: MORGAN’S FOLLY pop. 200. A second larger sign nearby, lay face down along the shoulder.
I drove as fast as I dared, bouncing over the wash-board surface, dodging potholes and rocks, accompanied by the deafening racket of hailstones driven straight at us by a horizontal wind.
Unfortunately, my goal of reaching our destination before the deluge was thwarted when a blinding curtain of rain joined the hail. It came down so hard and fast, the wipers were rendered almost useless. Savage bolts of lightning struck so close the pungent smell of ozone permeated the air.
“Can you even see?” Audrey called over the rolling thunder.
I squinted through the foggy windshield. “Sort of.” The defroster helped a little, but as the glass cleared slightly, I didn’t like what I saw. To call this thin ledge cut in the side of the mountain a road, was charitable at best. I suspected that even in good weather it was not much better.
My stomach curled into a hard knot as miniature waterfalls cascaded down the sheer cliffs onto the road that was swiftly becoming a slick, muddy river. Pebbles and stones showered down, pinging off the roof and punching dents in my hood.
“What’s that?” Audrey cried, pointing to a dark shape looming ahead.
I slowed to a stop and stared with dismay through the swishing wipers at what looked like the remains of an old rusted drainpipe. How the hell had it gotten in the middle of the road?
“Do you think we have enough room to drive around it?” Audrey asked.
“Good question.” I nudged the car forward, not relishing the idea of having to get out and slop around in the mud trying to move the thing, if that was even possible. “Looks like there might be just enough room to squeeze around it.”
I maneuvered the wheel with care and rolled down the window so I could monitor my progress. Rain pelting my face, we inched by. It was close. One false move and my tires would have been shredded on the jagged edges of the corrugated metal pipe.
I exhaled a long breath when we cleared the obstacle. But my relief was short-lived. Cold horror washed over me when, not ten yards in front of us, a huge boulder crashed down and rolled across the road, disappearing over the edge of the embankment.
“Did you see that?” Audrey screeched, pressing one hand to her heart. “We could have been killed!”
I shuddered to think how right she was, but my options at that point were as narrow as the road. Even if I could somehow manage a miracle and turn us around, without four-wheel drive our chances of negotiating what was now a flowing quagmire seemed remote.
I drove on, my entire being focused squarely on the road that was quickly deteriorating into little more than a mud track. Downshifting, I
slowed, easing the car into a hairpin turn. And then, all at once, we began to slide towards the edge of the ridge.
Everything that followed seemed to be in ultra-slow motion—my ineffectual hands trying desperately to turn the wheel, my leaden foot pressing non-responsive brakes. And it didn’t help my level of concentration to have Audrey beside me, screaming like a banshee.
Staving off the surge of panic, I finally remembered to steer into the skid. The next few feet were crucial. We drifted so close to the precipice the rain-lashed treetops were visible in the ravine below. My heart seemed to have stopped temporarily and by the time I regained control and pulled back to the other side, the wave of relief left me weak and shaking.
“I think we should stop and wait till this passes over,” Audrey squawked, her voice edged with hysteria as we headed downhill.
“Can’t.”
“What do you mean we can’t?”
“Flashfloods. We’ve got to get out of this canyon pronto.” My anxiety escalated once more as we approached the base of the slope and I slowed to assess our situation. The rain had diminished slightly, and for the moment, only a few inches of water tumbled over the smooth stones in the creek bed. But my recent personal experience had taught me how swiftly these normally dry washes could burgeon into raging white-water rapids.
We dare not stay here. The whole canyon could flood in a matter of seconds. Poised to make a run for it up the other side, my spirits sank when I noticed the fallen tree. Slashed in half and blackened by lightning, it lay stretched across the road. Now what? I cursed softly under my breath and tried to fight off a feeling of helplessness while I peered through the tangled overhang of branches. A spark of hope flared when I spotted the misty outlines of several houses perched against the ruddy hillside ahead.
“What are we going to do?” Audrey asked in a small voice.
“I hate to say it, but we’re going to have to walk the rest of the way.”
She gave a disheartened sigh and stared dejectedly at her long skirt and low-heeled pumps. “I’m not really dressed for hiking.”