Wild Winds Read online

  Maggie glanced in that direction. “One would think that tunneling under a well-established town would be hazardous. Don’t they worry about hungry cave-ins that might gobble up businesses or homes?”

  “Nope, because there’s too much silver down there and being dug out for folks to think clearly about such possibilities.”

  “If it ever rained here enough to flood those tunnels and weaken them, I’m sure that would cause a panic and fast property sales.”

  “Maybe, but some folks go blind where greed is concerned.”

  “Ah, yes, that dark side of human nature. I suppose we all have at least a tiny one, don’t you think?”

  As Hawk fastened his gaze on hers, he grinned and said, “I can’t imagine a fine lady like you having one. Do you?”

  “Oh, I admit I’ve done things I shouldn’t have. Haven’t you?”

  “I suppose so. Here we are, Mrs. Reynolds. Does this suit you?”

  Maggie eyed the lovely Victorian-style hotel and said, “Excellent choice, my dear husband.”

  “Only the best for you, my refined wife.”

  “Don’t forget I’m covering our expenses: I’ll slip you the money so you can pay the clerk and retain that masculine pride.”

  “Well, you don’t have to worry about that where I’m concerned,” he told her as he assisted her from her saddle. “I’ll get you to our room, then I’ll tend our horses. Diablo, keep an eye on Blaze for Maggie.”

  She watched the black mustang’s head move up and down as if he understood his master’s command. She followed Hawk into the lobby where he set down their bags to register. She had left her trunk in Tucson where the Paradise Club bartender would have it taken to her mother’s house for safekeeping. She had packed what she thought she would need for the impending portion of her journey inside her saddlebags and two brocade satchels with corded handles for looping over her horn. If Hawk had noticed the missing item, he hadn’t mentioned it. If he did, she would tell a partial truth by saying it was too bulky for horseback travel.

  Inside their room, Hawk placed the bags on the bed for unpacking. “You rest and tend your chores while I look around,” he told Maggie. “I’ll return for supper in about an hour.”

  “That suits me fine. See you later.”

  Hawk left to head to the Silver Dollar Saloon where Ella Mae, another paid informer, worked; he needed to find out if she had seen his two targets in town.

  Maggie removed her garments. and shook them to remove as many wrinkles as possible. Some she hung on a peg and others she put in drawers of a dresser. She tucked her pistol and holster beneath one stack, as hers and Hawk’s rifles were propped against the wall in a corner. She laid his saddlebags atop the dresser after deciding he would rather unpack them, resisting the urge to peek inside to check out his possessions.

  After that task was finished, she used a ceramic basin and water from a matching pitcher to freshen up. After brushing her hair, she sat on a comfortable chair to relax while awaiting Hawk’s return. Her gaze settled on the double bed neàrby. Her dreamy mind imagined them lying there together, hugging, kissing, and making love. She had been kissed before, but never as Hawk had done to her in Tucson. She tingled just recalling that romantic episode.

  Her gaze shifted to the gold band she was wearing. She grasped it between her right thumb and forefinger and stroked it. Married … The wife of a man who stirred her heart and soul and inflamed her body…

  Well, Abby, I wonder what you’d say and think if you knew about this shocking behavior. Was I impulsive? Am I deluding myself about keeping him? Whatever shall I do when he discovers the dark truth about me? Will he try to help me extricate myself from trouble, or will he reject me? Would he—a law-abiding man and bounty hunter—be so hurt and angry he would turn me in to the authorities?

  Whatever possessed me to break the law? What if I can’t prove Ben’s innocence? What if he’s guilty and refuses to surrender to the authorities as he and Newl promised? Could I look the other way and ignore my conscience in order to keep Hawk, or will I be compelled to right that foolish wrong? Even if I keep that prison break secret. Hawk will soon discover I lied about being a journalist and he’ll learn I am Ben’s stepsister. He’ll add up the clues correctly and surmise what I’ve done. And what then?

  “Are you sure you’re all right down there?” Maggie asked Hawk after he climbed inside the bedroll he had spread out minutes earlier. He had given her enough time to change clothes and get under the covers before he entered the room to settle down for their first night together.

  “Don’t worry about me, Maggie. This floor isn’t any harder than most ground I sleep on when I camp out on the trail.”

  Maggie propped up on her elbow and looked at him, though he was barely visible in the light of a half moon filtering through the window. “To be fair, partner, we should take turns using the bed.”

  Hawk squinted his eyes to peer into the shadows to obtain only a glimpse of her. “No need. I’m used to such conditions, but you aren’t, so you wouldn’t get any rest. Honestly, I’m fine,” except for this ravenous hunger for you.

  “What did you learn this evening? Anything useful?”

  He surmised she was seeking a distraction from the unfamiliar and arousing circumstances, so he complied by saying, “Yep, they’re both here. Any time somebody of their reputation comes to a town, news spreads as fast as a wildfire because folks suspect trouble isn’t riding far behind them. I didn’t see them, but I’ll locate them tomorrow. If I can catch them apart, maybe I can fool Slim Jones into careless talk. He isn’t as smart as Pete Barber, but he’s a wary sidewinder, so I’ll have to be cunning.”

  “You will be careful?”

  “Always. You should be safe taking care of your task at the Epitaph. This town has plenty of badges strolling the streets, and you’ve proven you can defend yourself in a bind. Besides, all you’d have to do is scream and help would be there in a hurry. Just stay off of side streets and in the open.”

  “I’ll follow your good advice. Did you locate that missing girl and the gambler?”

  “Nope, but I’ll settle that matter tomorrow.” I have to deal with it one way or another, or it’ll keep coming up between us. I have to decide if I’m going to lie again or tell you it was only a ruse to be with you—but withhold the reason I needed to be at your side.

  Maggie thought Hawk’s tone sounded a little odd during his last sentence. Maybe he was worried he would find the girl in dire straights and have to leave his “wife” alone in order to honor his prior commitment to her parents by escorting the impetuous female back to Yuma. Or perhaps he was unsettled by the unusual situation. After all, they were partly undressed and sharing a cozy bedroom. Too, they were married, if in name only, and were highly attracted to each other. Since it was normal for men to have sexual urges, surely his were aroused. Perhaps, he, too, was uncertain as to how he should behave under those provocative circumstances.

  “Good night, Hawk,” she said to still her speculations. “We’ll continue our conversation in the morning.”

  “Good night, Maggie, sleep well.” Me, too, if I can.

  Maggie could hardly believe Hawk had risen, dressed, put away his bedroll, and departed without awakening her, since she normally was a light sleeper. She attributed part of her restless night to ceaseless music and rowdy merriment, but most of it was due to agonizing thoughts about her awful dilemma coupled with severe hunger pangs for Hawk. She’d forced herself to breathe evenly and lie still to prevent disturbing his slumber until she finally fell asleep near dawn from sheer exhaustion.

  What if, her weary mind shouted, Hawk decided he made a terrible mistake in coming to work for her and especially for marrying her so he sneaked off the first moment he could? No, her heart argued, he would never do anything like that. Get your lazy fanny out of bed and get dressed! You have work to do if you want to extricate yourself.

  The surprise she received moments later was the last thing she had ex
pected to happen on that or any day …

  Chapter

  Eleven

  As Maggie’s bare feet touched the thick rug and she stood beside the rumpled bed, she halted her movements and came to alert as the door was unlocked and pushed open. She watched Hawk bend over and retrieve something before entering the room and closing the door with his right boot.

  “What’s that?” she asked as she nodded toward the tray in a grinning Hawk’s hands. Although her body was partially visible through the material that traveled from throat to ankle and elbows, she made no attempt to grab a matching robe to cover a white cotton gown trimmed with embroidered sprays of blue and pink flowers and green stems and leaves.

  Hawk forced himself not to stare at the vision of beauty before him, though it was difficult to master that temptation. Being this close to her without touching her was harder than he had imagined it would be, but he must not press her to yield to him after promising to behave as a gentleman. He wanted and needed more than physical release; he yearned for a future with her, a home, a family, and her love. He wanted to do nice things for Maggie, show he cared deeply about her. He had to prove she was special in order to win her and keep her.

  “Your breakfast, boss lady: bacon fried crispy, eggs scrambled well, biscuits with little butter and no jelly, and coffee with two sugars,” he replied as he placed the tray on a round table with a chair beside it. “I hoped you were awake by now. I figured after not eating much at supper and enduring a restless night, you’d be hungry and moving slow this morning.”

  “Thanks,” and do you notice everything I say and do? She was pleased and flattered he remembered her food preferences. To avoid seeming a tease, she donned her robe and buttoned it before she went to the washstand. As she washed and dried her face and hands, she said, “Please forgive my appearance, but I was just dragging myself from the bed.”

  “You look lovely, Maggie; you always do,” he told her as she brushed her hair while eyeing him in a mirror hanging over the stand.

  “Thanks, but you’re biased since you’re my husband and partner,” she replied in a jesting tone, which she had to fake to mask how he was affecting her with his engulfing golden brown gaze and husky voice. She watched him grin and nod agreement.

  “As you learned last night, Tombstone’s noisy around the clock, but quietest right before and a few hours after sunrise. This way, you can eat before you dress for your visit to the Epitaph. Anything else you need?”

  Probably what I can’t have: release from my self-made reckless plight, freedom from prison, and you as my husband forever. I want and need your love, respect, and acceptance; but I’ve probably spoiled any chance of earning or keeping them. “Thank you, Hawk; you’re very kind and thoughtful. But your job doesn’t extend to acting as my servant.”

  Although her last sentence was said in a playful tone, Hawk had seen a sad look dull her eyes only moments before it and wondered what she’d been thinking. “I kinda like making the boss lady beholden to me. I never can tell when I might need rescuing from trouble and she’s mighty skilled with those hands and feet and with weapons.”

  “So,” she quipped in return, “you had an ulterior motive, did you? Just teasing. So, where’s your food?” she asked after lifting a thick cloth to find only one filled plate.

  “I ate long ago; I’m used to rising early. I’ve already checked on Diablo and Blaze down at Mr. Tuttle’s corral; it’s on Fremont between Second and Third streets, in case you need her for a swift getaway.”

  “An escape from what?” she asked as she sat down and sipped coffee. Not from you, never from you, my love.

  “Barber and Jones if you rile them too much and too fast. We have to move slow and easy with them, agreed?”

  “Agreed. I’ll let you take the lead where they’re concerned.”

  “Good. You eat while your food’s hot. I’ll get busy elsewhere while you dress and nose around at the newspaper. I’ll meet you back here at noon.”

  Maggie suppressed a frown of disappointment after she left the Tombstone Epitaph office on Fifth Street because the editor hadn’t allowed himself to be charmed into making any useful disclosures. Perhaps, she reasoned, since the two men she asked about were in town, he was afraid to discuss them with a stranger. Perhaps the Epitaph editor feared similar retribution from Barber and Jones if they felt challenged by his loose tongue.

  To get a closer look at the town, Maggie turned left onto Fremont Street and pretended to be taking a stroll and doing window shopping. She passed the O.K. Corral entrance beside Papago Cash Store and Bauer Union Market and paused on the boarded walkway before Fly’s Photograph Gallery. To its rear, she had noticed the man’s photography studio. Since villains and gunslingers were known for their love of having their pictures taken, perhaps she could glean helpful clues from the owner or from his display of works.

  Maggie entered the gallery and sighted two men near its rear. One, a short and lean fellow in a suit, spoke to a well-dressed gentleman with him before heading in her direction while the other man left by the back door.

  “May I help you, ma’am?”

  “Yes, I want to see samples of Mr. Fly’s work and, if I like them, I want to speak to him about taking a photograph of me and my husband while we’re in town for a visit.”

  “I’m Mr. Fly, and I’m certain you’ll be pleased with my work. My assistant is out sick today, so his absence is keeping me busy and traipsing between my two businesses. Are you in a hurry?”

  “No, sir,” she responded in an exaggerated southern drawl. She was glad she had kept one fashionable day dress and leather shoes with her, though she’d left all of her hats, two parasols, and crinolines in Tucson.

  “Excellent. If you’ll look around for a while and give me time to finish in the studio with my other customer, I can show you my work, discuss my price, and make the appointment. I shall return in about twenty minutes, thirty at the most. Is that agreeable?”

  As he was speaking, Maggie heard the bell over the front down jingle behind her. The photographer smiled at her after she nodded, then went to speak with the other person whose name brought her to alert and caught her immediate interest. She heard Mr. Fly give the stranger the same spiel as she had received, and the newcomer also agreed to wait.

  Well, Maggie, you prayed for help and an opportunity was just laid in your lap, so take advantage of it. When you made your promise to Hawk earlier, you didn’t foresee this fortuitous event, so he’ll have to understand and accept your apology for disobeying him. You’re a professional, so put on your best front and charm this snake in the grass into complying with your needs.

  After Fly left by the back door to work in his studio, Maggie turned to the redheaded customer and asked, “Did I hear you say your name is Pete Barber?” She watched his narrowed dark gaze walk over her with cocky boldness. There was a coldness in his brown eyes that almost made her flinch, but she controlled that reaction and kept her expression pleasant. He was a good eight inches taller than her five-feet-six-inch height, so she had to look up at him. His body appeared to be muscular and strong and his posture and movements implied he was ever ready to confront dangers! A lack of smile lines near the eyes and mouth told her he probably found them often and dealt with them rapidly and lethally. The man didn’t respond until after he completed his slow and thorough scrutiny of her.

  “Yep. Who’s asking and why?”

  She saw him glance in all directions, as if suspecting a trap by a rival, the fingers of his right hand grazing the butt of his pistol and his body rigid with alert. Relax and dupe him fast, Maggie girl. “Oh, my goodness! It’s so exciting and such a great honor to meet a real western legend that I can hardly think straight or speak correctly. Since my arrival in the Wild West months ago, I’ve heard and read so much about you, Mr. Barber. My name is Margaret Anne Reynolds and I’m a newspaper journalist from Virginia.”

  Maggie hoped Hawk was right about not being well known as a bounty hunter, as too man
y people knew his name for them to go by Maggie and Hawk Malone; the name Reynolds shouldn’t seize Barber’s attention, and it didn’t appear to. “I was sent out West to gather detailed information and write fascinating stories about famous men and their exploits. Everywhere I’ve traveled so far in Arizona and New Mexico, I’ve heard your name mentioned as one of the fastest and smartest gunslingers. Yet I find it amazing that no one has written dime novels or in-depth stories about you. I would be honored and thrilled if you would agree to be interviewed by me for that purpose. And if you’ll allow Mr. Fly to take a photograph of us together to print with the article, I would be the envy of every journalist. Would you be agreeable to that, sir?”

  “You wanna write a story about me for your newspaper?”

  “That’s correct, if you don’t mind, of course. You see, I never like to write stories about unwilling subjects or to do them from gossip I’ve heard. If the person involved doesn’t participate, the story is boring and is usually inaccurate or biased in one direction or another.”

  “I’ve already had lots of stuff printed about me, so I’m plenty famous.”

  “But it was all written as news, sir, not as your life story. I want to write about who you are as a person; what you’ve done; how you feel before, during, and after a showdown with a challenger; how you stay out of trouble with the authorities; where you’ve been and who you’ve met. You have a huge reputation, Mr. Barber; I want to know how you got it and keep it.”

  Barber’s tone was flat and cold as he explained,”I got it by being good with my guns and being faster than anybody who’s been fool enough to draw against me. I don’t take to nobody calling me out or talking against me. I ain’t never shot no man who didn’t need killing for one reason or another. If I hafta empty my holster, he’s gonna be sleeping under dirt before the sun goes down. If a man needs killing, it don’t trouble me none to oblige him. I’d say I probably put thirty or more to sleep permanently. There ain’t no man out here I can’t outdraw.”