Wild Winds

by Janelle Taylor

  “If or when I locate them, I’ll be careful,” she promised.

  “We’re counting on you to help me, Maggie, or I’m a dead man. Papa says you’re the only one who can do this for us, and Papa chooses only the best in everything, like when he picked your mama for his wife. She’s a real nice lady. I know I’ve done some wild things in my life, but I swear I wasn’t in Prescott that day.”

  Maggie found his manner genial and sincere, yet, she knew from experience that some criminals could be deceptively convincing. Either Ben was being open and honest, or he was one of the cleverest snakes she’d met. “You have to go, Ben. Every second you’re here is wasted get-away time. If you and I are even glimpsed together, our efforts were for naught.”

  “If I get captured, Maggie, I swear I won’t tell them anything about your help. By the way, it’s good to finally meet you; I just wish it wasn’t in this crazy situation. You best get me cleared fast because you’re gonna need a big brother around to keep the boys from chasing you day and night. You’re a whole lot prettier than the pictures I’ve seen of you.”

  “Thank you, Ben; now, get moving, pronto.”

  “Don’t take any bad risks because of me, little sister, and I’ll be seeing you again real soon. I’ll be waiting in Sante Fe with Papa’s friend while you prove I’m innocent.”

  “I only have one more thing to say, Ben: if you’re lying to me and you’re guilty, I’ll work just as hard to see you back behind bars as I did to get you out. Understand?” She watched him squint his green eyes to look her over from unbound hair to bare feet before he responded.

  “I understand, but you don’t have any call to worry about me. Thanks, Maggie. If you ever need anything from me, you’ll get it; I swear.”

  She was surprised when he kissed her on the cheek before he smiled and crept to the door. “Wait,” she whispered. She fetched a drying cloth, grinned, and said, “Dry up the floor on your way out or that wet trail to my door might look suspicious. And toss the used cloth into the outhouse so it won’t be found by one of those Quechan trackers who’ll be trying to earn fifty dollars by bringing you in. Good-bye, Ben, and good luck.”

  “You, too, little sister.”

  Maggie waited for fifteen minutes before she peeked outside her room to check the floor. Ben had done a perfect job of concealing the evidence of his nocturnal visit. She returned to bed, put aside the book she had been reading, and doused the oil lamp. She let her mind roam in contradictory directions.

  Ben was exactly as her mother had described him: nice, polite, genial, likable. But for some reason, that reality unnerved her. She couldn’t help but remember that her mother had deceived her for months about her father’s death, told her what she wanted and needed to hear to remain in school during that final year. Was her mother deluded again about what was right and best for another person? Did Ben have her mother tricked? Was she, herself, fooled by a clever act?

  The storm halted during the wee hours of the next morning, long before Tom Mercer returned from Los Angeles and after the Arizona Sentinel had been published and copies delivered to the hotel. A wide-eyed Lucy had just finished reading the lead story to Maggie and Abby when Tom entered the sitting room and set down his bag.

  “You won’t believe what’s happened, dear,” Lucy said. “A man escaped from the prison work detail during a storm yesterday. The weather was absolutely horrible. Fortunately we didn’t suffer any flooding and the water appears to be drying up as fast as it came down. We were just reading about the shocking escape.”

  “What does the paper say?” Tom asked. “How did it happen?”

  “When the storm broke, the convicts working outside the prison on the road were rushed back inside and sent to the bathing rooms to get cleaned up and dried off. Afterward, they were left in the main building to work on crafts. When suppertime came, the guards on duty assumed the man’s seat was empty because he was either sick in bed or working in the mechanic’s shop or doing a task for the superintendent. His absence wasn’t noticed until it was lock-up time hours later. Mr. Vander Meeden sent out men to search for him where he was last seen but he couldn’t be found and his tracks had been washed away. The paper says Quechan Indians were summoned this morning to look for him. So far, the trackers found his shoes stuck in mud at the riverbank, but there was no trail to follow. It’s assumed he sneaked aboard a ferry or boat and got away.”

  “Not for long. Who is he? What was his crime?”

  “Ben Carver from Tucson. He was convicted for robbing a bank in Prescott and shooting the teller. The article said they never caught his accomplices or recovered the money and that Mr. Carver pleaded innocence.”

  “You said he’s a Carver from Tucson?”

  “That’s right, dear.”

  Tom looked at their guest and asked, “Your stepfather is a Carver in Tucson; do you know who this man is?”

  Be as honest as you can. “Yes, sir; he’s my stepfather’s son, but I’ve never been to Tucson and he never came to St. Louis with Mother and Mr. Carver. I didn’t even know he was in prison until recently; I suppose Mother was too embarrassed to tell me earlier.”

  “Why didn’t you ask to visit him while we were touring there?”

  “He’s a stranger to me, sir, a criminal, so I didn’t think it would look appropriate to others for your guest to be visiting her … Well, we aren’t actually related by blood. Do you think I should leave before anyone makes that discovery and thinks badly of me?”

  “Of course not, Margaret Anne, and I’m terribly sorry this happened while you’re visiting us. I’m certain no one here will discover your connection to him. Was her name mentioned in the article?” Tom asked his wife, “Was his father’s?”

  Lucy shook her head to both questions. “Of course, Mr. Dorrington probably didn’t have much time to gather the facts before printing time. A reporter went to the prison this morning and talked with the guards and superintendent, but it says more facts will be released later. I’m so sorry about this … incident, Margaret Anne; I know it must distress you, dear.”

  “Yes and no, ma’am. He’s a stranger to me, but he is the son of my mother’s husband, so I suppose that makes him part of my family. I just wouldn’t want to cause any of you any embarrassment or trouble.”

  Lucy smiled and said, “You won’t, my dear, so don’t worry about us. Besides, it’s a secret only we know, so it can’t cause us a scandal.”

  “I suppose you’re right, ma’am. Even if they print his father’s name and my mother’s name, no one in Yuma knows I’m her daughter. I agree it would be best for all of us if we don’t tell anybody that secret.” Maggie was glad the couple didn’t suspect her of duplicity. “I don’t think I should telegraph Mother and Mr. Carver about his escape because that would expose my connection to them, and you know how gossip can spread quickly, especially in a town this size. If the story is sent to Tucson and printed in their newspaper, I know they’ll be embarrassed and worried about him being chased down and slain.”

  “I’m sure he’ll be recaptured and be safely back in his cell within a day or two.” Tom sat down on the settee beside his wife, facing Abby and Maggie in matching chairs. “I can’t imagine why any prisoner would risk more trouble and have years added to his sentence when he’s got it so good over there. The inmates are properly clothed and well fed with nourishing and ample food. They’re given plenty of water and rest breaks during chores, and given every Sunday off. They have places to do their laundry, take baths, and entertain themselves. There’s a machine shop to learn a trade, and those who are qualified teach others to read and write and do arithmetic. The tour money that’s collected is for a library, but townfolk already donate books and magazines. The prison is in good condition and being improved and expanded at the present time. Some townfolk are jealous and resentful of the fact that prisoners get better food, clothing, and shelter than they do. We haven’t had any bad trouble since I came to work here. Your stepbrother’s going to be migh
ty sorry he made his situation worse on himself.”

  Maggie thought that despite what she had been told by Newl and Ben and what she had viewed during her tour, the prison did not sound as bad as those descriptions and how it had appeared to her biased mind. “Maybe he was scared of other prisoners, sir, or afraid he would hang for murder if the man he shot dies.”

  “I doubt he’d be hanged, Margaret Anne; he’d probably just be given life in prison, and still have a chance for parole one day.”

  “Maybe he panicked during the storm, saw a chance for freedom, and grabbed it before thinking clearly. Perhaps he’ll turn himself in today.”

  “I bet you two probably saw him during your stroll yesterday,” Lucy ventured, “but didn’t realize it since you’ve never met him and don’t know what he looks like.”

  “What stroll?” Tom sounded shocked. “You ladies didn’t go to the prison alone, did you?”

  “No, Father, we didn’t climb Prison Hill. That wouldn’t be proper. But we walked to the edge of the bluff and watched the men work for a while; then the storm drove us inside.”

  “Obviously Ben Carver is a dangerous and clever man to be able to get away from his work detail, and right under the guards’ noses. It’s too bad the convicts weren’t chained together during their road labors. I’ll go to the prison to see what I can learn about this matter. Please unpack my bag, dear wife, and I shall return for the evening meal with you ladies. As for you, Margaret Anne, please don’t worry about this.”

  “Thank you for being so kind and understanding, sir. But if you change your mind and think it’s best I leave early, I won’t be offended.”

  “We wouldn’t hear of you leaving early, isn’t that right, Lucy?”

  “Of course it is, my dear,” she responded.

  Not long after Tom left, Abby asked her mother if it was all right if Maggie and she went shopping for the thread Maggie needed. “We won’t go far or be away for very long,” she promised. “We can use the exercise and diversion. You can come with us.”

  “Thank you, dear, but I must unpack your father’s things. It should be safe to stroll in town; I’m sure Sheriff Tyner is on alert for any possible trouble, though I imagine Mr. Carver is long gone from this area. You should both change clothes before you leave; you must look your best because I imagine the streets will be filled with people discussing the news. It’s important that you dress and behave as ladies in case our secret leaks out. Besides, Matthew Lawrence could be in town today,” Lucy hinted.

  To please Lucy, Maggie and Abby changed into their best outfits. Maggie donned a white batiste polonaise that was trimmed with morning glory blue Valenciennes lace at the square neck, along the three-quarter-length sleeves, and around its bottom hem. Below, she wore a matching multiruffled walking skirt with a soft bustle created by the material’s drapery rather than with a metal-framed undergarment. She secured a blue ribbon with pink-andivory cameo at her neck. She donned a hat whose brim slanted down toward her ears and upward in the back and front and was adorned lightly with morning glories and cloth strips at the base of its crown. She completed her attire with soft leather boots, a lace fan for cooling herself if needed, and a fancy parasol for shade.

  Maggie felt as if she should be heading for church, an afternoon tea, or stroll in a large city rather than one in a small and dusty western town. But if this action made Lucy happy, she decided, it was worth the effort.

  Maggie purchased the blue thread, looked around the large mercantile store for other needs, and bought a long and wide strip of white cotton cloth to replace what she’d thrown away during her menses.

  As Maggie used her buttocks to push open the door to leave and turned aside quickly to make room for Abby to exit past her while she held it in place, her loaded arms crashed into a man about to enter the store. Startled, Maggie loosened her grip on the packages and they fell to the porch as she gasped in surprise. “I’m terribly sorry, sir; I didn’t see you. Are you injured?”

  “No, ma’am, and it was partly my fault; my thoughts were elsewhere and I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going. Are you all right?”

  “Except for embarrassment, I’m fine.”

  “Let me fetch those things for you,” Hawk offered when she started to bend over to retrieve strewn objects. As he did so, she spoke to him again in that angelic voice which teased his senses and sent a rush of heat over his entire body.

  “Thank you, sir; that’s very kind of you, especially considering I almost smacked you in the face with a door.”

  Hawk glanced upward at her from his kneeling position and smiled. “Accidents do happen on occasion, and there’s no harm done.” He gathered the few spilled items and returned them to a sack. Mercy, she looked beautiful and smelled good! No matter what else she was, she was a real lady; or knew how to dress, speak, and behave like one. What a contradiction she was!

  Accustomed to making fast and thorough observations and judgments, within moments many things about the handsome stranger registered in Maggie’s mind. Obviously he had just ridden into town because he was wearing a below-the-knee linen coat and dark Stetson which were covered with dust, as were his black boots and fringed chaps over Levi pants. The heel on his footwear and the high crown of his hat made him appear even taller than his over six feet. His shirt was dark blue, as was a bandanna around his neck. She couldn’t see his weapons, but imagined he was well armed. His eyes were golden brown and his gaze was awesome. Ebony hair curled at the ends where it grazed broad shoulders, though a few strands caressed his forehead near his right temple. He had high cheekbones which created shallow hollows between them, and a strong almost squared jawline revealed a slight stubble that matched his hair. His lips were full; his teeth, white and straight; and his smile, irresistible and magnetic. He revealed good manners and respect for ladies. Unexpected emotions like swirling wild winds assailed her body, sending sparks of an instant and powerful attraction to him racing through it.

  Maggie took her packages from him, smiled, and thanked him again for his assistance. She watched him touch his fingers to his hat brim, nod, and smile as he spoke in a stirring voice that made her feel almost limp.

  “No trouble at all, ma’am,” he said, and walked past her into the store where he would pretend to be looking around while he watched her departure from its front window. He concluded it wasn’t wise to spend too much time with her during their initial contact or to show overt personal interest in her, not when she mistakenly assumed the incident was her fault and she was slightly beholden to him.

  Maggie used her hip to let the door close quietly and slowly. She headed down the street with her friend, forcing herself not to glance back a single time. At a safe distance from others, she whispered, “That’s what I call a real man, Abby. Have you ever seen him here before?”

  “No, and I would remember a face like that one. He’s almost as handsome as my Matthew. He got to you, didn’t he?”

  Maggie sent her an affirmative smile. “I wonder who he is and why he’s in town. I wonder if he’s married or engaged. Oh, well, it doesn’t really matter who or what he is; I’ll be gone soon.”

  “Oh, Maggie, must you leave so soon? Our visit has been too short.”

  “I must go, Abby, and you know where and why.”

  “Let me come with you. I can help you locate and capture those—”

  “No, Abby, I can’t let you endanger yourself again; I’m trained and experienced for such work, but you aren’t. Besides, I need you to stay here and listen for news about Ben. You must read the paper, listen to everything your father and mother say, and collect the town gossip. I’ll let you know where I am so you can send word by coded telegram if the worst happens. Agreed?”

  “Agreed. And besides, I have a romance to handle.”

  “Yes, my friend, you do, and good luck with it.”

  After they returned to the hotel and gave Lucy the items she had ordered, they went to Maggie’s room to chat while Maggie repaired
the dress she had torn while making contact with Ben. As agreed, they did not discuss the successful escape or her stepbrother in case somebody decided to eavesdrop on them; instead they turned the conversation to Abby’s romance.

  “I don’t know anything about ranching, so why would Matthew consider me for a rancher’s wife?” Abby asked her friend. “Perhaps I’m only deluding myself about a future with him.”

  “I doubt it or he wouldn’t be courting you. Besides, we’re much alike, so you’ll love ranching. It’s a wonderful life, Abby, and I still miss ours. Matthew and his parents will teach you everything you need to know about it. Then, one day after they’re gone, the ranch will belong to you and your husband.”

  “You should be my teacher so I won’t appear dumb to them.”

  “I tell you what, for the remainder of my visit, every spare moment we have, I’ll tell you everything I know about ranchers and ranching.”

  Abby hugged her and said, “You’re the best friend I could ever have.”

  “You’re the best friend I could ever have. Let’s begin your first lesson right now,” Maggie said, then started relating facts she had learned from her father and his ranch hands during a happy childhood in Fort Worth.

  After attending church, eating Sunday dinner downstairs, and talking in their sitting room for a while, the Mercers excused themselves to visit with friends near the edge of town for the remainder of the afternoon.

  Although Maggie knew that Abby’s parents assumed she would stay with their daughter and suitor as a chaperone during their absence, she left the Mercer home only fifteen minutes after their departure. It was obvious to her that Abby and Matthew were deeply in love; and she liked Matthew, so she decided to give them a little privacy. “If you two don’t mind, I’d like to take a short walk to get some exercise and fresh air after that big meal. I shan’t be gone for more than thirty minutes, an hour at the most. I think you two are old and wise enough to do without a chaperone.”