Wild Winds Page 11

  It will be more than pleasant with you at my side, Maggie’s mind countered, but she smiled and said, “Whatever you say is fine with me.”

  You don’t know how wrong you are, woman, and I dread the day you make that discovery. He paid for their food, after joking about putting it on his “expense account”, and escorted Maggie to her room. There, he said, “Good night. Just yell for help if you need it. I’m next door and a light sleeper, so I can be over fast. See you at seven for breakfast. We leave at eight.”

  “Thank you, Hawk, for everything. I feel totally safe knowing you’re nearby and watching over me; your services will be worth any amount you charge me for them. Good night. See you in the morning.”

  “I appreciate your confidence and trust in me,” but it won’t be long before you realize I don’t deserve them, and I wish that weren’t true.

  Maggie entered her rented room and followed Hawk’s instructions to drop a chair under the door knob, then added two other precautions. She placed a revolver on the second pillow and, after making sure the window was locked, spread sharp tacks along its sill in case an intruder tried to use that means of approaching her.

  She went to bed and hoped her roaming thoughts would settle down so she could get to sleep, as a weary mind and body made perilous mistakes. After sleeping in Hawk’s embrace last night, she felt alone and miserable, denied and yearning. You said to “yell for help if “ I needed it, but what I want and need is you, Hawk, here beside me and holding me, kissing me, telling me I’m doing the right thing. Now that I’ve found the perfect match in a man, I fear I’ll lose you soon and I’ll never be happy again without you sharing it.

  She wondered if her mother felt that same way about Newl Carver. For certain, Catherine Malone had loved Jed Malone without reservation, and his loss had been a tragic one. Perhaps loneliness and anguish had driven her mother into Newl’s arms and life, but she hoped and prayed her mother loved him and he loved her and they were truly happy.

  Thursday morning Maggie and Hawk boarded a coach belonging to the Arizona Stage Company to head for their next overnight destination.

  Within the first hour, as he had warned, Maggie realized the ride was going to be a long, dirty, and bumpy one along a winding road between Maricopa and Phoenix. Although the distance wasn’t great, the conditions en route and numerous stops resulted in a lengthy and arduous trip. With a full load of passengers, she felt crowded in those confines, but it did allow for her to be pressed close to Hawk who rode between her and another man. She could imagine how the interior would smell if not for a breeze wafting through the windows and if the journey was a longer one without facilities to bathe and change clothes. She hoped rain didn’t force them to lower the leather shades and cut off the refreshing air supply. She felt safe with Hawk nearby, a derringer in her pocket, and with the driver and a guard riding on the box seat and another guard positioned on the rooftop, though she marveled at how that second one managed to stay aboard at their swift and bouncing pace.

  She overheard other passengers talking and laughing in soft voices as they whiled away the boring hours, but none attempted to converse with her or Hawk, not even the weasely-looking man beside him. While her companion watched the scenery from their backseat, she listened to the combination of noises: luggage thudding against the wood of the coach, the jangling of harnesses and snap of the jehu’s whip, the flicking of the ribbons on horse flesh, the driver’s shouts as he urged the animals to a swifter pace, and the rumbling of the wheels against rock hardground. Her eyes, throat, and nose burned and itched from dust and the minute debris which was thrown into the coach.

  The Sonoran desert landscape was much the same as she had seen for days, but she still enjoyed looking at the amazing saguaros, some rising to heights of fifty feet and many with oddly positioned limbs. Most relay stations where they stopped were nothing more than rock or adobe structures with flat roofs and narrow windows. The stocktender was fast and efficient as he switched the spent team of six horses with a fresh and eager one.

  The established routine was carried out smoothly, stops made only briefly at those relay stations to change teams, and with a longer halt at one to eat a hurried and tasteless meal of beans, corn dodgers, and stewed antelope which had been cooked much too long.

  Between stops, Maggie thought about Abby, wondered how her friend was doing, if any problems had arisen or if Ben had been recaptured, and how her romance with Matthew Lawrence was progressing. As soon as she reached Prescott, she must telegraph her best friend for the news, and she hoped it was all good.

  After they reached the hotel, Hawk tended Diablo while Maggie was being shown to her room. Then he went upstairs to freshen up as she was doing. When he thought he’d allowed her enough time for that task, he knocked on her door to go eat supper. He grinned when he noted she had taken the same precautions in her appearance as in Maricopa. Yet, no matter how plain she tried to look to avoid excessive attention, it failed from his point of view, because she was always beautiful and tempting.

  Since it was still light after they finished eating supper and Hawk said Phoenix was safe, they took a stroll.

  Maggie was surprised to see that this town had lush green areas with wheat and barley crops, thanks to the cunning efforts, Hawk told her, of Jack Swilling and his Irrigation Canal Company which began in ‘67 and brought in water from the Salt and Gila rivers. She listened as he told her about the adventurous man who—after being an Indian fighter, Confederate officer, Union scout, and early settler of that area—had helped find gold in the Bradshaw Mountains, but had perished in the Yuma jail of a crime he hadn’t committed. That revelation caused Maggie to think about Ben. If life had dealt such a dark and deadly fate to a well-liked, upstanding man, she reasoned, the same could be true for her stepbrother. If it was, she had to prove it; and if there was no error, she had to recapture him, no matter if she was incriminated in his escape.

  Hawk pointed out many interesting sights, and she enjoyed the walk and their harmony, mainly because Hawk seemed relaxed and was conversing freely again after a bout of near silence on the stage. It was evident he knew a lot about this area; in fact, a great deal about the entire territory, so she presumed he must have traveled it many times, which was advantageous for her.

  The stimulating outing ended too soon to suit Maggie, but the sun had set long ago and the temperature had dropped. The air had grown chilly and she was without a wrap, which he pointed out before guiding them to the hotel beneath a rising full moon.

  They paused for a while to visit with Diablo, who seemed to enjoy their company and attention. He even nuzzled his nose against Maggie’s hand, then shifted closer to her to encourage more strokes.

  As Hawk watched them, he concluded that Diablo knew she was sincere and was showing his approval of her. “He likes you and trusts you, he doesn’t usually take to strangers.”

  “We aren’t strangers anymore, are we, boy?” she said in a soft tone as she stroked his neck. “He’s a fine animal, Hawk; you’re lucky to have him.”

  “Yep, we make good partners. He’s quick and smart, and he’s gotten me out of trouble and danger plenty of times. I can always depend on him.”

  “I know what you mean; my father taught me that if you treat a horse right, he’s a friend for life. Jed Malone was a good and wise man, and a perfect father. Good night, Diablo, see you tomorrow.”

  Hawk saw her eyes shine with tears, which she removed with a fingertip and without making an excuse for her show of emotion. He knew she still missed her father, just as he missed his family. When the motives for his deceitful and lethal actions came to light, surely she would understand and not fault him for them. If she left him or was taken from him by the authorities, he would have to live with that bleak sacrifice. No matter how much he wanted her, justice must be done for him, his lost loved ones, the Law, and others who had suffered by their bloody hands; that he had sworn on his family’s graves and on the badge he carried, a six-pointed sil
ver star hidden in a leather pocket beneath his left holster.

  At her door, Maggie wished Hawk would embrace and kiss her, but he didn’t. He looked nervous, as if he wanted to kiss her but thought he shouldn’t. He gazed deeply into her eyes while giving her those same defensive instructions from last night, then said a hasty good night and left.

  Maggie leaned against the inside of her door, took a deep breath, and closed her eyes. Her heart pounded with love and her body flamed with desire. Had she really known him for only a few days, five glorious days? They were so compatible. They liked, respected, and enjoyed each other. They appeared to be a perfect match, and she hoped that was true.

  On Friday morning at eight o’clock, an Arizona Stage Company driver snapped his whip and shouted, “All aboard! Awaaay!” and a team of six impatient horses lurched forward, jerking the coach in the throes of their frantic run. Once more, the familiar routine was established at departure to maintain a tri-weekly twenty-eighthour schedule toward Prescott.

  Maggie surmised that the bold red coach with bright yellow wheels could be seen approaching the relay stations and any road travelers from far away. It was larger and better built and more comfortable than the model used between Maricopa and Phoenix: It had big and narrow wheels which moved easier over hard ground, but the ride was still bruising and jarring because of their swift pace. She was glad she and Hawk, side by side, had the best seats available this time, behind the front boot and facing backward. She also was glad Hawk distracted her from worries about what awaited her at their destination by telling her things about Prescott so she’d know what to expect when they reached the territorial capital. His potent allure assailed her senses as they were jostled against each other from the rapid motion, despite the fact they had the entire padded bench to themselves, and provided another distraction. She assumed he was talking freely this morning because only two other people were making the trip, a man and a woman, who sat in the back. That left the bench between them on the nine-passenger coach empty, and plenty of distance between them not to be heard over the loud noises from outside.

  Following many stops at relay stations and a scant and bland meal at midday, the Sonoran Desert was left behind as they entered the cooler High Country with its drastic change in landscape and topography. She saw awesome rock formations in brown and black, with spires that reminded her of various-sized chimneys. The red sandstone bluffs at some locations—many with multiple colored striated bands—were called “slick rock” because they appeared to be as smooth as glass. She saw precipitous cliffs, ambling ridges, lush valleys, and flood-washed draws. In the Black Canyon, the road stayed close to the mountain base and Aqua Fria River with its vivid blue water and swirling white edges as it splashed over or detoured around numerous rocks. Occasionally they passed other travelers, as the road also was used by freighters, lumbermen, trappers, military, and men going to ply their trades or seek their fortunes on the surrounding terrain. The steepest grade and sharpest curves were at Antelope Hill, where the driver used firm foot pressure on the brake lever to slow their pace on its intimidating descent. He announced their presence at hairpin curves with a shrill blast of a tin horn. The jehu, she concluded, earned his pay with the skills shown as he handled three sets of ribbons in one hand and a whip in the other.

  Late that afternoon, the sound of gunshots and their echoes filled the air, calling Maggie and Hawk to full alert, along with the others, as they were in ideal country for outlaw or renegade Indian attacks. She looked out the left window, and Hawk did the same on the right side. Both sighted outlaws on horseback in their front and rear, gradually closing in on the coach. Within minutes, shots rang out from both of their sides from men sheltered in the rocks, warning fire of an imminent assault. Surrounded, and with the uphill terrain preventing a rapid flight from peril, the two guards returned the gunfire.

  Though it was company policy to yield to robbers to protect its passengers’ safety, Hawk knew that action wouldn’t be taken until defeat was a proven certainty. Even so, whatever it required of him, he would not allow Maggie or the others to be injured, nor Diablo, who was trailing behind them with his reins secured to the coach.

  As Hawk grabbed his rifle to aid the guards, he whispered to Maggie, “Best hope and pray it’s not Barber and Jones because they don’t leave witnesses behind to identify them; that’s why it’s impossible to prove their guilt; being sly and daring is why they’re still running free.” I should know because I’ve been chasing them for months.

  She already had noted that Hawk was well equipped with a Spencer lever-action repeater rifle which held numerous cartridges in its butt. Though it came with ready-to-fill tubes for quick reloading insertion, she assumed those extra ones were with his belongings elsewhere. A Bowie knife with its long tempered-steel blade, serrated top edge, curved crossguard, and wooden grip was in a leather sheath on his belt—the first time she had seen that weapon on him. His two Remington .44 revolvers were in holsters on a wide cartridge/money belt. It seemed evident from the arms he wore that her companion had anticipated trouble and had prepared himself to thwart it.

  Maggie wished she had the Winchester rifle and Colt Frontier pistol which were in her trunk. The only weapons she had with her were a Remington two-shot derringer in her skirt pocket and a seven-inch-long Spanish blade in a hand-tooled leather sheath under her top garment at her waist. Even, though she had a drawstring pouch with extra cartridges in her handbag, the tiny pistol performed best at close range and had to be reloaded after firing it twice, which would be time consuming. She asked Hawk if she could borrow one of his revolvers to help defend the stage, though she knew that most men were reluctant to loan out their weapons.

  Hawk looked over at her. “You know how to fire and reload one?”

  “Yes, my father taught me; and I’m a good shot. It looks as if they need all the help they can get or we’ll all be endangered.”

  Without delay, Hawk passed her one of his pistols. “Just pull out more cartridges when you need them. I count one in front, two in back, and at least one way over there with a rifle. How many do you have?”

  She half-turned her head and said over her shoulder, “Two in the rocks, afoot but keeping up with our slow pace. Armed with pistols.”

  “Then let’s show ‘em we won’t be an easy target.”

  Maggie and Hawk opened fire on the culprits, letting the guards know they had help from the interior, which might dissuade the bandits. Both heard a bump and yelp from the roof and realized a guard was down, either wounded or slain. The driver kept the stage moving slowly up the steep grade after the second guard took out the outlaw in the road beyond him.

  Maggie concentrated on the men ensconced in the rocks, wounding one as he tried to change positions. Bullets zinged and thudded against the wooden coach and one whizzed past her shoulder and out the other window, barely missing Hawk’s broad back. Angered and alarmed by his near hit, she emptied her revolver in the bandit’s direction to force him to keep his head down; if he couldn’t sight his target, he couldn’t shoot at them.

  Hawk’s fire struck one of the villains behind them before he reached the coach to leap aboard it. Maggie saw his body jerk backward from the impact of the bullet before he fell from his horse. She slid into the floor and removed cartridges from Hawk’s belt loops and reloaded the borrowed weapon. As she did so, Hawk told her he got rid of another one, the sharpshooter in the distant rocks on his side. Once more she prevented the culprit behind a boulder from moving closer. To conserve their ammunition supply, she didn’t fire in rapid succession; only whenever he showed his face or body. When he finally dashed for the next boulder, she succeeded in putting bullets in his right arm and thigh. She heard him shout to his friends that he was wounded.

  Admitting defeat, the remaining rear outlaw and those only wounded scurried into concealment and allowed the stage to continue without further assault. The uninjured guard shouted, “Anybody hurt in there?”

  As the othe
r passengers returned to their seats and adjusted their clothes, Hawk leaned out the window and yelled, “We’re all safe and sound!”

  “Good, and thanks for the help. Jeb’s wounded, but he’ll live. We’ll be pulling into Black Canyon City soon, so we’ll take a breather there. Can’t stop here; those snakes might come crawling back for another strike.”

  As the stage reached the base of the steep hill and its speed increased, Hawk settled back in his seat, and smiled at Maggie. Above the noises of rattling coach and pounding hooves, he said in a low tone, “You’re one surprise after another, Miss Malone. That was fine shooting, and you stood your ground like a grizzly. You have a cool head, and lots of skills and courage. I’m pleased and impressed. I can see I don’t have to wonder or worry about you being able to take care of yourself.”

  As she passed his weapon to him and smiled in return, she said, “Thank you for the compliments, kind sir; you did excellent work yourself. I hope that opinion doesn’t mean you’ll renege on my job offer because I still need somebody to watch my back and keep me out of trouble and danger. I hate to think what may have happened to us if you and your guns hadn’t been here today. I doubt that remaining guard could have held off six men and I was in no position to assist him without proper arms. Perhaps I should strap on my sixguns the next time I take a stage ride alone,” she jested.

  Hawk chuckled as he imagined her weighed down with many pounds of iron belted around that tiny waist and over a fancy dress. He envisioned her drawing them and shooting at those bandits. Even so, he had no doubt she and the guard could have driven off that gang. Yep, there was far more to Miss Margaret Anne Malone than he had seen or guessed, and he was looking forward to obtaining the whole picture. “I’ve never teamed up with a woman before, but it looks as if you’ll make a good partner. Yesiree, this is going to be a mighty interesting experience and big challenge. I wonder what other surprises you have in store for me.”