Wild Winds Page 4

  So, he reasoned, why was a seemingly proper lady entangled with scum like Ben Carver and about to commit a criminal and hazardous act for him? What powerful or misguided hold did Newl or Ben Carver have over her? How could a woman alone free Ben from Yuma Prison? Yet, if she wasn’t confident she could do it, she wouldn’t be there, unless she truly had “no choice” but to try. In all honesty, he didn’t know whether to feel sorry for her or to detest her.

  Blast it all, she was a complete and intriguing contradiction!

  If he concluded she was being coerced, should he approach her and try to change her mind before she got into a swift river over her head? No, because that could jeopardize his own plans. Maybe beneath that pretty and genteel facade she was as bad as the targets he was pursuing. Should he expose her to either Sheriff Tyner or Superintendent Vander Meeden and get her out of the way so he could carry out Ben’s escape? No, that could get Ben trapped inside those walls under heavy guard. Should he join forces with her? No, at least not yet, because a relaxed and trusting Ben with her at his side would lead him straight to Barber and Jones. It was best if he waited until after she succeeded or failed before he took action.

  Hawk moved his belongings to a chair. He shucked his dusty boots, stripped off his clothes, and lay down. He stared into the darkness for a few minutes before closing his eyes. The instant he did, her lovely image was almost as visible to him as if she were standing before him in person. Her name—Mag . .. gie Ma . .. lone—kept coming and going inside his head like the gentle waves at low tide on a Texas beach.

  When he realized his naked body was becoming aroused, he rolled to his stomach and forced her from his thoughts. Don’t go messing with my head, woman, because it won’t do you any good. You’ve sided with Carver, so that makes you one of my enemies. He resolved that nothing and no one would stand in the way of him meting out his revenge and justice.

  As the two women unpacked Maggie’s baggage on Wednesday morning, they talked about old times at boarding school and Abby’s current suitors.

  “Before I know it, you’ll be married and having babies,” Maggie said. “We’re twenty-three. I suppose it’s about time for settling down—at least for you. Aunt Maggie, that has a nice ring to it.”

  “I see,” Abby laughed, “you want me to try on this marriage garment first. If it fits, you’ll get yourself one, too. Right?”

  “Perhaps, after I get tired of my work.”

  “I have to find the right man for a husband,” Abby said thoughtfully. “Two of my beaux are handsome, from wellto-do families here in town, and I like them. One in particular; he’s calling on me Sunday after church, so you can give me your impression of him. As for you, Maggie girl, if you don’t stop gallivanting around the country and endangering yourself, you’ll never find a proper husband and you might get yourself killed. I couldn’t bear losing you.”

  “Don’t worry about me, Abby; few of my jobs are lifethreatening. I mostly do investigations undercover for fraud or corruption, or I track down missing people, mainly runaway daughters who want to marry men their parents don’t approve of or who want to work instead of marry or they’ve gotten themselves into trouble and are trying to avoid a scandal.”

  “Speaking of fraud and corruption,” Abby said, “didn’t you receive my long letter about our move to Yuma and Father’s appointment to the board of prison commissioners?”

  Maggie thought it was best to travel slowly with her revelations. “I didn’t get your letter; it’s probably waiting for me at home in St. Louis.”

  Abby sat on the bed and laid aside the dress she was holding. “Then how did you know we were living here?”

  Maggie stopped removing things from her trunk and faced Abby. “Mother and Newl told me last Friday in • Wilcox.”

  “I don’t understand; I thought you said your mother was out of town on a trip.”

  “That was true, she was in Wilcox, not at home in Tucson.”

  “What’s going on, Maggie? Why the secrecy and deception?”

  Maggie went to sit beside her friend and looked her in the eye. “I had no choice but to answer as I did because you asked me in front of your parents. It has to do with a secret job for Newl.”

  “What kind of job? Is it dangerous?”

  “Yes, it concerns my stepbrother, Ben. We still haven’t met, but he’s in serious trouble and desperately needs my help.”

  “He lives or works in Yuma?”

  “In a way, yes to both.”

  “And?” Abby coaxed her to continue and end her confusion.

  “Let me see . .. How shall I explain this crazy matter to you?”

  “As Mr. Graves used to say, ‘Just spit out the answer, young lady; it isn’t going to bite your lip.’ We’ve never had problems talking about anything before, Maggie, so what’s wrong?”

  She took a deep breath and confessed, “I’m caught in a terrible predicament. If I don’t do this job, Ben could die; but if I do it, I could involve you and your family in a hazardous situation.”

  “You can tell me anything, Maggie. Why did you really come here?”

  “To bust Ben out of the Yuma Prison.”

  Chapter

  Three

  Maggie watched Abby’s green eyes enlarge and her lips part with astonishment. “I know, it’s a crime,” Maggie put her reaction into words. “It’s perilous and maybe impossible. But if I don’t rescue him, he could be hanged or killed soon by one of the other inmates. Newl claims he’s innocent and was wrongly convicted and imprisoned. After I free him and he’s safe in hiding, I’m going to Prescott to investigate the case and the witnesses against him. Newl claims they’re enemies of his and they lied about Ben.” When Abby remained silent, just staring at her in disbelief, Maggie revealed the other details Newl had told her.

  “You can’t be serious; the chances of breaking him out are nil,” Abby said after listening to Maggie. “Wait until you tour that place and you’ll see what I mean. Father is taking us as soon as we finish unpacking your things.”

  “As I told you, Abby, Ben’s now on work detail outside the prison walls. Somehow I have to get a message to him and figure out a way for him to elude the guards while I distract them. The only thing that has me worried is getting your father into trouble if it’s revealed I’m Ben’s stepsister and I’m friendly with your family.”

  “Even if your wild scheme works, Maggie, no one will believe you—a mere woman and a proper lady—plotted and carried out his escape. They’ll think the timing was coincidental.”

  “Are you sure? I don’t want to imperil any of you.”

  “I’m positive, but still you must forget this crazy idea because it won’t work. Not without help anyway.”

  “I can’t hire anybody to help me commit a crime. There’s no one I could trust with such information.”

  “I was referring to me, silly. Maybe I could—”

  “No, Abby, I can’t let you get involved.”

  “I’m already involved because I know about your plan. I could help you distract the guards while you slip a message to Ben and he sneaks away. If your stepbrother is innocent and he’s in immediate jeopardy, I agree we have to help him. Besides, think how exciting this will be. Have you ever pulled off a job as risky, and seemingly impossible as this?”

  “Yes, but I did it alone; I didn’t risk anyone else’s life. I would simply die if anything bad happened to you or to your family.”

  “It won’t, if you let me become your partner.” Abby’s green eyes sparkled and her face glowed. Maggie didn’t know why her friend had done an about-face in the last few minutes, still, Maggie wasn’t sure her involvement was such a good idea. “The minute Ben Carver is free, your parents might connect me to him. That could evoke suspicions about me, and they’ll wonder if I told you, and if I did, why didn’t you tell them?”

  “No, Maggie, it won’t, I’m sure of that. Now, the first thing we have to do is get a good look at the prison and where that gang is working. Le
t’s hurry and finish punpacking so we can begin our adventure. We haven’t gotten into mischief since our school days; this will be so much fun. Life has been almost boring here in Yuma. It’s so good to be together again. Just think, we’ll be heroines soon.”

  “If we do this deed, Abby, we can’t ever tell anyone about it; don’t forget, whether Ben is guilty or innocent, aiding a jailbreak is a crime.”

  “What if he is guilty?”

  “If I make that discovery during my investigation, I’ll see to it that Ben is returned to prison.” She took a deep breath before continuing. “I’ll let you help me on several conditions. First, don’t do or say anything to cause suspicion, especially toward yourself and your parents; secondly, don’t veer from my instructions in the slightest; thirdly, you keep this episode a secret forever. Agreed?”

  Abby hugged her, grinned, and responded, “Agreed.”

  “Then you’re my partner,” Maggie said, though she knew she would allow Abby to take only a small role in the impending drama.

  As they headed up the dirt road to Prison Hill, Maggie sat on the left side of the carriage to observe the work gang and terrain. As they passed the laboring convicts at a slow pace, the men paused to look up at them but the guards shouted in haste for them to get busy again. Their black-and-gray striped uniforms were dusty and wrinkled, and their expressions revealed their misery in the heat. Guards, to whom Tom spoke as each was encountered, were spaced out along the road’s edge with rifles or shotguns at the ready to discourage trouble or flight. To the captives’ rear were thick and green scrubs and trees, ample cover to conceal a man if he could get to them.

  From the photographs Newl had shown her, Maggie easily picked her stepbrother out of the large group that was filling in ruts, removing debris, strengthening the road’s bank with many layers of heavy rocks, and filling in washes on the gradually elevating slope. At twenty-four, Ben Carver was a good-looking man, but Maggie couldn’t be caught inspecting him, so she averted her gaze from his direction.

  Tom halted the carriage near the Sallyport, a huge adobe arch with strap-iron gates and a free-standing guardhouse. Outside the walls were the guards’ quarters, superintendent’s residence, stable, and other structures. The main guard tower—an enormous roofed platform—had been built over a circular rock water reservoir. Shovels and picks not in use were leaned against the wall to the left of the Sallyport, “to prevent men from taking them inside and using them as weapons,” Tom told them.

  Maggie noted how breezy it was at that height. She saw the steep drop to the Gila River along one side, and a similar one to the Colorado on another—both impassable for escapes. Yet, the view of the mountains, fertile valley, town, rivers, and Fort Yuma was breathtaking.

  Tom spoke with Fred Fredley, the turnkey and yardmaster, for a few minutes before the gate was unlocked and they passed through the wide arch into the first of three yards. Tom told them the walls—-built by the inmates of adobe bricks they also made there—were eighteen feet high, eight feet thick at the base, tapering to five feet. Some of the thirteen guards employed there walked or stood on the wall while on duty. In addition, there were six lofty guard towers constructed at the corners and middle of two sides, one of them armed with a Gatling gun.

  Before they toured the site, they were introduced to Superintendent C.V. Meeden, an odd and gruff man who was heading to his office in a nearby structure and made it apparent he didn’t want to be detained longer than necessary, even by a board commissioner.

  For almost two hours, they strolled around, looking at the kitchen and mess hall where “trusties” worked, the granite quarry, adobe yard, bathrooms, machine shop, farm, and a small hospital.

  Tom showed them the convicts’ cells; some were excavated out of solid rock hills, or built into the interior walls, or located in separate blocks with two rows facing each other with a wide corridor between them and with sturdy strap-iron barriers with gates at each end.

  Six men were confined at night in what, Maggie noted, were cramped and smelly quarters with bad ventilation, though their interiors were surprisingly cool when compared to the exterior heat. Tom told her the rooms were lined with iron bands beneath the whitewashed plaster to prevent men from digging out; the floor, of course, was impassable granite. To discourage bedbugs, the bunks were made of impenetrable iron rather than wood. There was a chest with six drawers for the men to share, and a single chamber pot which was emptied once a day and attracted numerous insects. Dead roaches, scorpions, and other unknown bugs lay here and there, victims of the soles of irate prisoners’ shoes. The only doors were iron grates, so they couldn’t keep out bad weather and pests.

  Maggie gazed into one cell and imagined Ben confined there, cut off from family and friends, locked away for years under such terrible conditions. She shuddered when she thought of herself enduring such a harsh existence.

  When Maggie asked Tom about the large iron ring secured to the floor between the two three-bunk-high furnishings, he revealed it was a mild form for punishment for minor infractions: the other five men were chained to it along with the offender, a ploy used to discourage misconduct or face the wrath of one’s cellmates.

  “Needless to say, my dear, after such an experience, the culprit will try to stay out of trouble the next time,” Tom affirmed. “The inmates work six days a week, with Sundays off. They also get time taken off their sentences for good conduct and good work, so it’s up to them to behave and do their duties.”

  “Father, please show Maggie the Dark Cell.”

  Tom guided the three women to where a chamber had been blasted out of a rock hill. They passed through one portal with a solid door, walked down a short corridor and stepped past an iron grate door. “We shouldn’t go any farther,” Tom advised, “because it’s a filthy place.”

  As Tom related almost the same description Newl had given to her, Maggie eyed the dim interior of the roughwalled cave. She imagined Ben locked in the low strapeiron cage, naked, given bread and water once a day. The air was so stale, musty, and heavy with stench from human waste that she nearly retched. If a man wasn’t put in the center cage, he was limited to either standing, walking, or sitting on the hard rock floor. She had seen jails and prisons before, but nothing like this one.

  “Close the door for a minute, Father, and let her see how dark and scary it is in here,” Abby coaxed.

  “Only for a minute, Abigail,” Tom relented with reluctance.

  Lucy departed before Tom shoved the door shut after he gave the two young women a warning about not venturing farther into the chamber.

  Maggie was astonished by how dark it was after the sunlight was taken away, and at how the smell worsened without the air flow between the ceiling shaft and exterior door. She couldn’t see her hand before her face, and her breathing was hindered. Her pulse quickened, and panic welled within her. “Spending several days and nights in here must be horrible, especially if the guards truly drop snakes or scorpions or filthy cockroaches down the air shaft like Ben told Newl,” Maggie whispered. “If we aren’t careful, my friend, we could spend time in here.”

  “Don’t worry; this is the first and last time we’ll step in this place.”

  The two young women had to shield their eyes from the bright light when Tom opened the door until their gazes adjusted to it.

  “Come along, my dears; we need to leave because the men will be returning soon for the midday meal. I don’t want to subject you ladies to their stares and the offensive sight of them. I’ll take you back to the hotel, we’ll eat, then I’ll return to work while you three look around the town and shop.”

  From a concealed position near the base of the bluff, Hawk watched the carriage slowly make its way down the dusty slope. Mr. and Mrs. Mercer occupied the front seat, while the two young women sat in the back one while they laughed and chatted. He noticed that Maggie didn’t even glance toward the work gang, of which Ben Carver was a member, but Ben—who kept laboring with his shovel— cocked hi
s head in such a way as to observe Maggie without the guard’s awareness. Using fieldglasses, Hawk obtained a close-up view of Ben’s expression as his enemy ogled Maggie. Hawk felt his body stiffen with anger at Ben’s lustful grin and matching gleam in those green eyes. As his own gaze returned to Maggie, he wondered if she had changed her mind about her impending mission after a close-up study of the prison.

  As the carriage passed near his hiding place, his tawny gaze roved Margaret Anne Malone from head to feet. What his grandmother would call a “high-styling hat,” made from straw with a wide brim and very little adornment, covered much of her light-brown hair. Today, her shiny locks were secured away from her neck and shoulders, no doubt to help keep her cool. Her dress had a full skirt and gathered into a downward point at her waist where a row of tiny buttons ended. Its sleeves were long, despite the desert heat, probably to avoid sunburn on her delicate flesh. It was a simple and practical garment, yet, lovely and feminine, like the woman herself. The most striking thing about her attire was its bluebell color, which matched her beautiful eyes and flattered her skin tone.

  He had met some beautiful and tempting females before, but he couldn’t think of a single one who compared with his forbidden target.