Wild Winds Page 14

  Maggie sipped more tea and continued. “Then there’s the angle of witnesses being left alive and later no retaliation toward them when the Law is almost certain two of the other villains were Barber and Jones. The trial took place on Moore’s terrain, where his word would be accepted by jury members, the judge, and the townfolk. People here hated Newl Carver for his work opposing having the capital situated here. I got the distinct impression that Moore wasn’t being totally honest with me, and I’m doubtful his wife even saw the culprit’s face; I think she lied to please her husband. In case you don’t know it, Hawk, they weren’t even engaged at that time; they married right after the trial.”

  To Hawk’s amazement, in a few short hours, she had obtained clues of which he wasn’t even aware! “What do you mean by that insinuation?”

  Maggie leaned toward him and almost whispered, “I charmed the newspaper editor into telling me about the great romance that resulted from the crime and trial. Frank and Matilda hadn’t even been seeing each other until that time. Supposedly their being thrown into the jaws of peril together created a bond between them, so they up and wed as soon as she verified his testimony and Carver was convicted.”

  “You think Moore offered her marriage in exchange for lying?”

  “Yes, but the editor believes Moore’s claims about a sudden romance. I watched them together, and for newlyweds they didn’t seem madly in love. I think their marriage is another one of those convenient coincidences. What if the robbery was an inside job and those bandits were hired by Moore and/or the owner? There was a lot of money, gold, silver, and other valuables in the safe on that particular day. I find it suspicious that it and the back door were left open at just the right time. Also, only Moore saw the gray eyes of one of the villains and he was inside the teller’s cage, a good distance away and with obstacles between them. As for the redhead everyone saw, that could have been a coincidence, or a dye like henna could have produced it. Or Moore and the owner could have hired Barber and Jones to carry out their wicked plan, which would explain why they both let Carver take the blame and he perhaps wasn’t even there that day. That also would explain why Moore refused to point a finger at those two miscreants.”

  “You sound as if you believe Ben Carver was railroaded into prison.”

  “If he was, wouldn’t that be a fascinating story to expose?” She took a deep breath. “Maybe it’s just my wild imagination or naturally suspicious mind at work, but the idea intrigues me. I did do one wicked thing to the Moores: I asked what they would do if Carver came here looking for revenge, and it seemed to panic both of them.” She related that portion of her talk with Frank Moore, but omitted revealing his lecherous behavior so Hawk wouldn’t think her conclusions were biased by it.

  “So, you do believe Carver was framed?”

  “To tell the truth, partner, I honestly don’t know what to think. I need more facts and evidence to prove me right or wrong. Remember what you told me about Jack Swilling? If a man like that could be wrongly accused and incarcerated, why couldn’t that be true of Ben Carver?”

  Or you hope it is? “Well, you said you were looking for challenges and adventures, so it appears this mystery might provide both of them for you.”

  “That and a whole lot more.” I could stare at you all day and night.

  “Such as?” He saw her react as if she’d made a slip. Her cheeks rosed slightly and she averted her gaze from his.

  “As I told you: this story could make my career.”

  Hawk struggled against the gnawings of jealousy that chewed at him because she seemed so determined to believe Ben was blameless and to clear him. He couldn’t ignore the facts she’d uncovered or the suppositions she’d made. What if Toby Muns and the Moores had lied, and he helped Maggie prove it? What would happen to his budding relationship with her if Ben Carver was exonerated and became a rival for her affections? No matter how much he wanted Ben’s competition removed and his family’s killers punished, he couldn’t let an innocent man pay for them. “You don’t think Carver’s escape proves his guilt?” he pressed.

  “Perhaps it only means he’s desperate and afraid. If he’s innocent, how could he prove it from behind bars? Who’s to say he didn’t bust out to find and expose the real robbers or unmask lying witnesses? Why would he peacefully serve time for a crime he didn’t commit? Why would he willingly stay penned up with evil and dangerous men and labor like a slave?”

  “Are you planning to make a suffering and wronged hero out of Carver like in those dime novels?” Hawk teased.

  “Only if he deserves it.”

  “And if he doesn’t?” Hawk ventured, her gaze a captive of his.

  “I’ll let the Law deal with him. If I uncover something beneficial to his case, I’ll turn it over to the proper authorities. But if we prove he’s guilty and prove Barber and Jones were involved, we’ll do the same thing, right, partner? First, we have to find and interrogate them.”

  Hawk knew where they were, thanks to his telegram and a news worthy showdown between Barber and a reckless man near the Mexican border recently. “You’re right, boss lady. Now, we’d better eat before our food is stone cold. We can talk more over coffee and pie.”

  On Sunday morning, Maggie asked Hawk to attend a local church service with her, and he seemed perfectly at ease sitting on the pew and being in God’s house. When they stood to sing hymns from a shared book, their shoulders made contact. It felt wonderful to be at his side, sharing things. As she observed the smiling families around them, she longed for one of her own, for Hawk to be her husband, to have their children surrounding them. She couldn’t help but say a selfish prayer for those golden fantasies to become realities, for Ben to be innocent and for her to be able to prove it, and for Hawk to understand and forgive her for deceiving him until that day.

  Afterward, they ate lunch and went to see the judge and prosecuting attorney, to discover both were out of town; so they headed to visit with several of the jury members from a list provided by the newspaper editor.

  As they strolled late that afternoon, Hawk was baffled by the way Maggie had conducted those meetings. She had talked in a heavy southern accent, used her best charms to captivate and relax those people into speaking freely, and sounded to him as if she were handling an investigation rather than doing story interviews. Just as amazing to him were some of the past jurors’ responses.

  “Now, do you see what I meant, Hawk?” she asked as if her mind traveled in that same direction. “Everyone we talked to said the Carver men were convincing in court and they would have believed them if not for the Moores contradicting their testimonies. They didn’t think the open vault was strange or the unbolted back door, or that witnesses were left alive. Everyone here seems to be a loyal friend of Frank Moore’s and to hold Newl Carver in contempt for his politics. It’s as if their minds were made up Ben was guilty even before the trial began.”

  Hawk noticed she said “Ben” and not Carver as usual; and heard frustration edging her tone of voice. “Isn’t it human nature to believe our friends over strangers?”

  “Yes, but people have to draw the line somewhere between serving good and evil, just as the pastor said this morning. Even if one ignores his duty to the Law and his fellow man, when he places his hand on the Bible and makes an oath to God, he should refuse to allow friendship to color his decision. How can one vote guilty when he has a shadow of doubt, which they all do? Don’t you agree?”

  “Yep, the preacher’s message was accurate; and what you just said is true.” As they passed other strollers, Hawk went silent, but his mind asked her, Where do you draw that crucial line between good and bad? Do you believe Ben is innocent? Do you believe his life was in jeopardy in prison? Is that why you helped him escape and why you’re nosing around in his case? It surely isn’t for a newspaper story. I agree Moore is withholding something, but I doubt he lied about seeing Ben in the bank. I wonder how you’re going to feel when you discover Ben’s evil to the core.

/>   During that quiet interlude, Maggie pondered a troubling mystery. After speaking with Newl and Frank, she was convinced there was a missing angle to their fierce rivalry which neither had disclosed to her. She had witnessed sheer hatred in both men’s gazes and heard it in their voices. A gut feeling shouted there was more than opposing politics involved. She surmised that Newl had wanted Ben out of prison before more charges, real or fake, were leveled against him, possibly resulting in his execution. In any case, Newl had deceived her about the bank teller’s condition, which forced her to be skeptical about some of his other claims. She needed to go to Tucson to speak with her stepfather, to clarify those hazy points. Besides, Newl was supposed to be trying to discover the whereabouts of Barber and Jones for her. She wondered if she should approach him with Hawk in tow, but quickly realized she had no choice. She needed him along for protection when and if she came upon the two cutthroats who held the key to Ben’s exoneration or reincarceration.

  When they were secluded again, Maggie looked at Hawk and asked, “What are your plans now? Have you resolved your business here so I can hire you?”

  “I guess I forgot to tell you last night: one of the gamblers on Whiskey Row told me he saw my targets on the train, but they decided to head for Tombstone instead of Prescott. Since that’s a good place to start our search for Barber and Jones, I can take care of both jobs at once.”

  “Can you spare time for a stop-off in Tucson? I’d like to question Mr. Carver about his son, and I need to retrieve my horse. I stabled her there because she wasn’t taking to the train ride very well and she had a leg that needed rest and treatment from a stone bruise.”

  Mercy, woman, I wish you couldn’t lie so easily and that observation pained his heart and tormented his mind, though he knew he did it himself when necessary. Maybe she had no choice under the circumstances. She couldn’t tell a law-abiding bounty hunter what she had done in Yuma and what she was trying to do. And if she had any idea who and what he was, an ex-Texas Ranger and current U.S. marshal on a mixture of official and personal business and a family member of that gang’s victims, she’d flee him in a flash quicker than lightning. Then he’d not only lose his chance to be near her for protection, he’d also lose his path to Barber and Jones through Ben. Besides, there was somebody he needed to see in Tucson, and he also needed to check on some facts in another enlightening telegram about her. “Suits me fine. I’m sure Diablo will enjoy having a traveling companion as much as I do.” He paused suddenly, then said, “Wait here a minute. That elderly lady across the street looks like she needs help with her carriage.”

  Maggie watched him cross the wide street to assist the woman, and was warmed by his thoughtfulness. She saw them chatting and turned to look at things displayed in a store window, as she didn’t want him to see her staring at him with what was sure to be a hungry gaze.

  Soon, Maggie heard steps approaching, then a raspy voice to her rear. She turned to find a rough-looking man eyeing her up and down.

  “Hello there, you purty thang. Why don’t we sally on down to where you work and have us a good time? I just got off my digs, so my pockets are full of shiny nuggets. Whatcha say to earnin’ some of ‘em off of me?”

  “I beg your pardon, sir, but you’ve made a mistake. I’m a lady.”

  “Shore you are, and I’m a gentleman, so let’s go have us some fun. I’d be willin’ to pay plenty to roll in the bed with you. I bet you’d be worth—”

  “A sock in the nose if you don’t stop insulting me and leave!”

  “Now, don’t go gittin’ your bloomers bunched up. I got money.”

  “I do not work on Whiskey Row, if that’s what you think.”

  “Oh, yore in privit bisness for yourself. That don’t matter none.”

  Maggie glared at him and threatened in an icy tone, “If you don’t cease this crude talk and leave, I’ll shout for my husband. He’s across—”

  “No need to call me, my love, I’m right here. I think you best move along and stop offending my wife before I have to clean up the street with you,” Hawk warned the grungy man.

  “This here’s yore woman, yore wife?”

  “That’s right, and I don’t take kindly to men insulting her.”

  “I didn’t mean no harm. I jest made a mistake. I thought she was—”

  “You thought wrong, so hightail it before my anger boils over.”

  “I’ll be goin’. No need to fuss or fight. Sorry, ma’am.”

  Maggie saw the rumpled prospector almost run down the street to avoid her “husband’s” wrath. She lifted herself on her tiptoes and kissed Hawk’s cheek. “Thank you for the rescue. I was just about to punch him in the nose and knee him … where it hurts. I only hesitated because I didn’t want to cause a scene, with it being Sunday.”

  Hawk smiled, and wished he had dared turn his head and compel the kiss to land on his mouth instead of his cheek. “A guard has to earn his salary, right?” he jested as he tried to cool his burning loins.

  “I hope so,” she murmured, her blue eyes fastened on his.

  “You’re a beautiful woman, Maggie Malone, so I can see why he lost his wits over you.” Lordy, I surely have!

  “That’s nice of you to say, but that kind of man can keep them where I’m concerned.”

  “He’s not your type?” Hawk jested with a broad grin.

  “Absolutely not.” But you are. “Shall we return to the hotel?”

  Hawk let her place her hand over his elbow and guided her that way. “So, what kind of man are you looking for?” he asked.

  Maggie glanced at him, and murmured, “Why, one like you, Mr. Reynolds: smart and brave and kind. Thoughtful and generous and handsome, too.”

  “Since I’m not one to argue with a lady, thanks for the compliments.”

  “You’re welcome, and you’ve earned them. Here we are. Do you want to eat a light supper before we go to our rooms?”

  “Suits me just fine.” So do you, woman, more than fine.

  After they ate in cautious silence, Hawk escorted Maggie to her door. “We best turn in because we’ve got that long and bumpy stage ride coming up soon.”

  “Good night, and thanks again for the rescue and help today. I hate to think of being here alone. I guess seeking adventure has its price.”

  “Yep, I suppose it does, like everything else.”

  For what seemed like a long time but was only a minute or so, they gazed into each other’s eyes and tingled with suspense and desire, both wondering if tíhey should reveal their feelings for each other.

  Hawk knew she was excellent in her pretense; she had everybody convinced she was who and what she claimed to be, except for him. But if he didn’t know the truth and wasn’t emotionally involved with her, she would probably have him deluded, too. Yet, she appeared reluctant to dupe him, as if dishonesty was unnatural for her. If only he knew what her tie was to Ben and Newl and how she had been persuaded or coerced into committing a crime for Ben, he would have answers to questions about her and his impending course of action. If she loved Ben, why lean in his direction without a good reason? Maybe she was just trying to beguile him so he would help and protect her along her route … Or maybe she hadn’t expected to fall for him during her ruse.

  “You’re a very special person, Hawk Reynolds, and I’m glad we met; even happier we’re working together and have become good friends.”

  “The same’s true for you, Maggie; you’re a real lady and I enjoy being with you.” I’d like to say more, but this isn’t the time or place to go getting romantic, and especially before we both discover where the other stands. “I hear somebody coming, so I’ll say good night. I’ll see you at seven in the morning.”

  “I’ll be ready. Good night.”

  Hawk walked to his room next door, his heart pounding with love for her, his mind plagued by doubts and fears, and his loins afire for her.

  Maggie entered her room to prepare for bed and their journey in the morning. For a while in t
he corridor, she thought Hawk was either going to kiss her or tell her something important. Did he want to draw her closer or discourage an unwanted interest in him or just slow down what was happening between them? Surely she wasn’t mistaken about his desire for her, but were his feelings nothing more than just physical? Did he love her? Would he be interested in marrying and settling down with her? Should she make it clear she was available for his pursuit? If so, should she do it tomorrow or soon or wait until she completed her hazardous task?

  She reasoned that it wasn’t fair to entangle Hawk romantically while she was in trouble. But with his pull on her increasing daily, could she resist him until her self-made predicament was resolved?

  Chapter

  Eight

  At a relay station late that afternoon, Hawk rounded the corner of the stone structure to see what was taking Maggie so long to return from an outhouse which was situated a lengthy distance away and partially enclosed by boulders and a steep cliff. Using amazing speed and skill, he was astonished to see her hook one ankle around a dark clad man’s who was behind her, loop an arm around his neck, and toss him to the ground to his back as if he were as light as a feather—or she was as strong as an ox. The man rolled over and bounded to his feet, stared at her for a moment, then started a new approach. The nimble Maggie grasped her full skirt with both hands, slightly raised it, and kicked one foot upward to land it across the man’s jaw. As he staggered from the blow, Maggie. withdrew a knife from under her top garment, glared at the scowling man, and said something to him before replacing the weapon. The way she wielded the blade told Hawk she knew how to use it and would if need be.