Wild Winds

by Janelle Taylor

  The train halted, and Maggie finger-checked her dress and hair, then headed for the doorway. Before she could descend the last step to the ground, Abby rushed forward to greet her with a shriek of her name, an affectionate hug, and a kiss on the cheek.

  “Finally you’re here! I’ve hardly been able to contain myself since I heard from you on Saturday. I’m so glad you came, and I’ve missed you.”

  “I’ve missed you, too, and you look wonderful, absolutely wonderful,” Maggie told the green-eyed blonde who was almost bubbling with exhilaration.

  “So do you, my dearest friend. What are you doing in this area of the country? Have you been to see your mother?”

  Maggie answered in a hurry to get that hazardous topic behind them. She hoped Abby hadn’t reminded her parents—especially her father—that her mother lived in Tucson and was married to Newl Carver, as she didn’t want that last name fresh in Mr. Mercer’s mind when Ben Carver from Tucson escaped soon. “I just completed an assignment in Sante Fe, and since I was so close, I decided to visit you. When I telegraphed you from Wilcox, Mother was away on a trip, so I’ll visit with her another time. I hope this surprise is all right.”

  “Of course it is; any time is fine with me. What were you doing in Sante Fe? Another secret and dangerous job for your agency? I so love receiving your letters and reports of your exciting adventures. I’m envious of you for having such stimulating experiences. You must tell me all about your travels and daring deeds during your visit,” Abby coaxed, her green eyes twinkling.

  Tom Mercer and his wife joined them. “Abigail, dear, give Margaret Anne a chance to catch her breath before you flood her with questions,” he teased as Lucy Mercer gave Maggie a welcoming hug.

  “Yes, Father; it’s just that I’m so happy to see her. It’s been so long since she visited us in Virginia and so much has happened to both of us since that time. Letters aren’t the same as being face-to-face, so we have plenty of catching up to do, right, Maggie?”

  Tom smiled at his daughter, then at their nodding guest. “It’s good to see you again, Margaret Anne, and you look lovely. Welcome to Yuma.”

  “Thank you, sir, and it’s delightful to see you and Mrs. Mercer again. Do you like living in Yuma? It’s so different from the South.”

  “It’s small and distant and the weather can be a real bear but we’re getting accustomed to it. We’ll give you the grand tour tomorrow. Presently we’re staying at a local hotel because our house is being repaired from damage by a recent earthquake; they have them here on occasion.”

  “I’m sorry, sir, I guess I came at an inconvenient time. I can return home tomorrow and visit again later if that’s best for you.”

  Tom shook his head. “If you don’t mind staying at the hotel, your timing is fine with us, and my daughter would be heartbroken if you left so soon. In fact, I’ve already rented you a room close to our suite. If one can call two rooms a suite. It’s where the owner lived until he built a new home recently, so I guess our timing was perfect. Lucy, dear, why don’t you take Margaret Anne and Abigail to the carriage while I see to her baggage? It’s being unloaded now.”

  “Come along, young ladies,” the older woman said with a smile.

  Abby looped her elbow through Maggie’s and guided her toward their waiting carriage where a passing gentleman halted to assist Mrs. Mercer into the front seat and then two friends into the back one.

  As she sat sideways in the carriage, the easier to converse, Lucy said, “We’re so happy to see you, Margaret Anne, and so glad you came to visit us. With so few things of interest here for a proper young lady, Abigail can use a good diversion. We waited for your arrival before we dined tonight, as we were sure you’d be hungry and looking forward to a good meal.”

  “Yes, ma’am, I am. How long have you been staying at the hotel and when will your house repairs be finished?”

  “We’ve been there for a week and expect the work to require another week or so. That earthquake shattered a chimney, broke windows, and caused a wall to crumble. The delays have to do with having to wait for the same size adobe bricks to be made and replaced and waiting for those size windows to arrive from back East. After the repairs are completed, the men have plastering, painting, and cleaning up debris to do. Frankly,” Lucy confided with a playful grin, “I’m enjoying the holiday from routine chores. No cooking, washing dishes, scrubbing floors, doing laundry, or other housework tasks for a while. I feel like a princess, but, alas, it won’t be for much longer.”

  Maggie and Abby shared gay laughter, at Lucy’s dramatic expression and tone, It was as if the passage of time instantly vanished and they were young schoolgirls having fun again.

  Shortly, Tom Mercer joined them and they departed.

  Hawk observed the intriguing scene but stayed out of his quarry’s sight, just as he had aboard the train. He wished he could overhear the conversation, but the distance between them was too great and he dared not move closer. It was apparent that Maggie was well acquainted with the newest prison commissioner and his family, so he wondered if she would seek help from them with her daring and dangerous plan. If so, would they comply? If not, would they try to talk her out of committing a serious crime, or expose her if she carried it out? How did those four people know each other? His questions seemed endless. Mercer’s appointment had to be a coincidence because it had taken place before Ben’s crime. He didn’t like or trust the many unknowns that were cropping up in this situation and intruding on his personal plans. He should learn all he could about Tom Mercer and Miss Margaret Anne “Maggie” Malone, and fast.

  He collected his belongings, saddle, and horse before he trailed them to the Palace Hotel, located next to the Yuma Exchange Saloon and Corral where he stabled his black mustang. As the animal began to drink from the water trough, Hawk stroked its dark neck several times, and the creature responded by nuzzling his master’s hand. He waited until the owner brought Diablo’s feed and the horse was eating before he left the stable.

  After the Mercers and Maggie were seated in the restaurant section, he tried to register at the hotel, but no room was available. Though his complaining belly rumbled with hunger, Hawk refused to appease it. He wanted more time to observe those people, especially the female whom he had followed from Wilcox. As he spied on them through a front window, he pretended to rest while leaning against a porch post and staying in the shadows.

  As they ate supper, Maggie encouraged Abby’s father to tell her about Yuma, because the more she learned, the better prepared she would be for her task ahead. She learned that three events had spurred settlement at the Yuma Crossing: the California gold strike, the successful navigation of steamships on the Colorado to as far northward as Utah for transporting goods and people inland, and the Gadsden Purchase of land from Mexico.

  The town covered an area of about six blocks in length and about four to five blocks in width. It contained many various businesses and shops. Most of the structures were built of adobe or of willow and mud, and the majority of them were one story and with flat roofs. The main street was wide, and dusty from desert sand and traffic. Yet, the surrounding areas featured mountains, fertile valleys, two rivers, the Gila floodplain, the Sonoran Desert, and the enormous sand dunes in California.

  Tom related more details about the town. “There’s a railroad drawbridge over the Colorado River and plenty of people love to ride it for amusement when a steamer passes going upriver,” he told them. “Until the Southern Pacific arrived from California in ‘77 and crossed southern Arizona in ‘81, goods and supplies were brought upriver by steamers from the Gulf; we still have two to three coming and going every month. I suppose that might slow down after the Atlantic & Pacific Railroad completes its route across the northern section from New Mexico to Flagstaff and on into California. At the pace they’re going, they should reach the river and border in a few months. Until that happens, those captains can still earn big money by delivering goods to towns along its banks and for those l
ocated inland, especially the territorial capital and those mining settlements. Arizona is proving to have an abundant supply of gold, silver, copper, and other needed ores.”

  As Tom halted to enjoy his food for a while, Maggie suppressed a smile of relief as she added another angle to her impending plan after she learned about the steamers and railroad in Prescott’s direction.

  “We don’t have a traffic bridge on the Colorado, so anybody crossing her has to use the ferry or a boat,” he continued his informative narrative. “On a bluff on the other side is Fort Yuma, but I hear the government is planning to close it down this summer. I suppose because it’s served its original purpose, which was to keep peace between the local Indians—mainly the Quechans and Mohaves—and emigrants using the Crossing. The quartermaster depot on this side of the river will be shutting down, too, since it’s used for storing and passing along supplies to forts in this area, with the railroad routed through here, it’s no longer needed. Since we have the main rail line here, the town will continue to grow and prosper without Fort Yuma and steamships.”

  So, Maggie reasoned, with the fort scaling down and closing soon, it probably wasn’t heavily manned and gunned and therefore wouldn’t present an obstacle to her task. Nor would the local Indians who were at peace. The only serious Indian trouble she knew about was with the Apaches in the southeastern section, but General Crook was dealing with them by chasing and keeping them across the Mexican border.

  “We’ll have to take Margaret Anne by the Chinese Garden,” Lucy said. “They’re so beautiful and fragrant, I’m sure she would enjoy seeing them.” She explained to Maggie, “The Chinese and their gardens provide us with many of our fruits and vegetables. Because Yuma’s climate is good most of the year, we have fresh produce even during winter. We even have a bee keeper near town for buying honey, and an ice company here.”

  “I suppose we aren’t as rustic as we appear to travelers,” Tom added, “and we certainly get plenty of those with two passenger and four freight trains coming through daily.”

  “So, you do like it here in Yuma,” Maggie assumed aloud.

  Tom smiled and nodded as he finished chewing his meat, then sipped some coffee. “Yes, but Mother Nature can be harsh with us at times. Yuma has occasional floods, earthquakes—from what I’ve been told, several big ones in the last few years—and whirlwinds that can pick up heavy objects and sling them around like feathers. Actually, it’s most pleasant here, especially during winter. January and February weren’t bad at all.”

  “It’s nice, dear, if we make allowances for the dust and heat,” Lucy teased.

  Tom sent his wife a smile. “I’m afraid that comes with the package, my dear.”

  Though her insides quivered with tension, Maggie tried to appear normal as she queried, “How did you obtain your current position on the prison commission?” From the corners of her eyes, she saw Abby give her an odd glance. Maggie assumed her friend had written her those facts and must be wondering why she appeared ignorant of them. She also assumed that Abby must be wondering why, if she hadn’t received that informative letter, how did she know they were in Yuma? The slip had been made, so Maggie decided it was best to ignore it.

  “I grew weary and bored with the mercantile business back home in Virginia, so I sold out to my partner to hire on at a local prison as assistant superintendent,” Tom began his explanation. “But when the prison was relocated and a new one was built, another man was appointed to my place as a political favor. I heard about the Yuma Prison expansion and made inquiries about the superintendent’s position, but it was already filled. However, I was asked to join the commission because of my business experience and problems here. Charges of fraud and corruption and misuse of funds for personal gain were leveled against certain members of the current board, so I was asked to investigate and resolve them. Those accused are some of Yuma’s first and most prominent citizens, so I have to be careful what I say and do until the situation is settled. I’m hoping to become the next superintendent; with rumors circulating about Vander Meeden’s harsh behavior with some of the prisoners, he might not be around much longer.”

  So, Maggie deduced, Newl hadn’t lied about trouble at the prison. “That means you hope to become a permanent resident of Yuma?” she asked.

  “If things work out in my favor, yes. Until that decision is made, we won’t build a home here; we’re currently renting a house.”

  That news dismayed Maggie, as she could jeopardize his chances and possibly endanger his freedom and life if she was exposed later and their friendship was revealed and he fell under suspicion as an accomplice. She realized that if she couldn’t carry out her plan without jeopardizing Abby’s father, Ben would have to remain in prison. Then, the best she could do for her stepbrother was try to prove his innocence and hope he stayed alive long enough for her to accomplish that feat. She suppressed a sigh and turned her attention back to Abby’s father. “Do you like working with prisoners?” she asked.

  “I don’t deal with the inmates much; I just handle orders for supplies and construction, oversee certain jobs, take care of the records, and make reports to Governor Tritle and the legislature. Currently, I’m trying to track down missing construction supplies and clarify some questionable expenses. We’re also in the midst of making improvements, repairs, and additions; the convicts do most of the labor, as it should be if they’re going to be punished and reformed. At present, we have over a hundred men confined there for various crimes.”

  “I saw the prison during our entrance to town; it’s an awesome sight.”

  “It covers more than eight acres on an ideal location,” Abby’s father revealed. “It’s had few escapes because the surrounding terrain is almost impossible to cross. No man could get over those eighteen-foot-high walls, and the cells are lined with iron grates under the plaster. Besides that, it has plenty of well-armed guard towers, and it’s impossible for an escapee to go unnoticed in striped prison garb. If an inmate happens to get loose, he isn’t free very long; there are Quechan braves who hire on to bring them back dead or alive. It’s said those Quechans can ‘track a bee in a blizzard’ and used to be fierce warriors, so I wouldn’t want one coming after me. Only a few men who’ve walked through that Sallyport have made successful escapes,” he said before finishing his dried apple pie.

  So, there’s an important fact you failed to reveal to me, Newl, because I’m sure you know about those Indian trackers. If what Mr. Mercer says about their skills is true, they could present a serious problem for me and Ben. “What do the prisoners do there?”

  “Some work in the stone quarry, adobe yard, and blacksmith shop on the premises. Some do the gardening, cooking, and other such chores. Others help with local road construction and repairs, mainly after harsh weather has damaged them. During their off time, they can make crafts like canes, ornaments, belts, and hat bands to sell at a bazaar held on the premises about every four months; the prison gets a third of any money they’re paid. It’s to their advantage to do their work and behave themselves because that shaves time off of their sentences. Anybody can tour the prison with permission and by paying twenty-five cents, but I’ll give you a free tour during your visit.”

  “That sounds fascinating, sir, thank you.” It’s time to change the topic. “What about you, Abby? Have you made lots of new friends here?”

  “Not many. Most of the females are either years younger or older than I am, and the few my age are married with families. It seems as if the people here have more sons than daughters.”

  “Oh?” Maggie hinted.

  “I remember that mischievous grin, Maggie. Yes, I do have several suitors, but nothing serious to date; and Mother and Father are checking them out with magnifying glasses. I’ll tell you all about them later.”

  “Speaking of time, young ladies, I’m sure the kitchen help is more than ready to clean this table and complete their chores for the day. If you’re finished with your desserts, I think we should leave.�
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  “Yes, Father. I’ll help Maggie get settled in and spend the night—”

  “Hold on, my dear, “Lucy interrupted. “I’m sure Margaret Anne is exhausted after her long trip, so you two can visit and talk tomorrow while you help her unpack and settle in. Besides, the only room available had a single bed, which would be too crowded for two people, and I’m sure you would keep her awake half the night by chattering away.”

  “You know me too well, Mother,” Abby teased amidst laughter as the four stood to depart.

  They all embraced Maggie and kissed her cheek before she bolted her door and went inside. She leaned against the wooden jamb and drew a quiet breath of relief. So far, so good, but wait until you have to tell Abby the shocking truth tomorrow …

  After watching Maggie and the Mercers ascend the stairs, Hawk Reynolds headed for the Colorado Hotel on Gila Street, one block away and near the base of Prison Hill. For a moment, he was tempted to visit one of the many local saloons for a relaxing drink of strong whiskey, but decided he was weary enough to get to sleep without one, despite the fact his head was spinning with questions and alternative plans if Margaret Anne Malone’s failed to succeed, and he presumed it would. Besides, he wasn’t in the mood for talking to strangers, and certain men in saloons always wanted to converse with others to distract themselves from their loneliness and troubles.

  After he registered and got a bite to eat just before the kitchen closed for the night, he went to his room on the front of the hotel. He tossed his saddlebags, weapons, and hat onto the bed, then walked to the window and leaned his shoulder against the frame. He crossed one booted ankle over the other and ran his fingers through hair as dark as a moonless night. His golden brown gaze stared at the other hotel as if it were trying to penetrate its walls.

  He furtively had observed Margaret Anne Malone for days, having gleaned her name from the hotel registry in Wilcox. Her speech, behavior, and dress bespoke a proper lady; she sounded educated, well mannered, and well bred. She had a smile as bright as the sun and her eyes were as blue as a clear summer day, their gaze most expressive when she smiled or talked, he had learned that from an up-close study with his fieldglasses. She stood at a little over five and a half feet tall, and had a body saloon girls would envy and men desire. Her hair color, except for scattered golden streaks, reminded him of a doe’s hide in early spring. Unless tied back with a ribbon, it flowed over her shoulders and down her back like strands of Chinese silk in Chang’s store in San Antonio. Her skin looked smooth, flawless, neither pale nor darkly tanned; and her facial features were perfect. In fact, she was beautiful, angelic, and enormously tempting.