An Arizona Christmas Read online

  A lot had changed in the dozen years since then, but not Louise’s beauty or the way Tom Ballard felt about her. His breath still caught in his throat when she looked up from the chair where she was sitting and reading by the light of a lamp while she waited for him. She always sat up and waited for him on the nights when the paper was being printed.

  “The paper’s put to bed already?” she asked as he came into the parlor of their neat little adobe house three blocks from the Courier office.

  “No, there was a problem with the press. Edgar’s working on it.” Ballard bent over to kiss her and felt a quick stirring of desire as he viewed the top of her breasts not covered by the dark blue dressing gown she wore. Good for a man to still feel that after so many years of marriage, he thought.

  “Is he going to be able to fix it?” she asked as he pulled a straight-backed chair over closer to the armchair where she was and sat down.

  “This time. At least he claims he can. But he warned me that we can’t continue as we have been. We need better, more modern equipment.”

  “I’ve been telling you that for quite a while, Tom.”

  Ballard sat forward and clasped his hands together between his knees. “The problem is we can’t afford it. It takes a considerable amount of money to make improvements like that.”

  For a moment, Louise didn’t say anything. Then, “My father would loan us the money.”

  Ballard was shaking his head before all the words were even out of his wife’s mouth. “I wouldn’t give your father the satisfaction of going to him and begging for money.”

  “You wouldn’t be begging. It would just be a business proposition.”

  Ballard grunted. “Some people might look at it like that, but he wouldn’t. You know that. Anyway, I’m not sure he’d go along with any such deal. He’s never forgiven me for moving you and the children all the way out here to Arizona Territory.”

  “You don’t know that.” She smiled faintly. “But I’ll admit, he can hold a grudge.” She set the book aside on a small table next to the armchair. “I still think it would be worth asking him. The Courier’s circulation is growing. You know there are plenty of people here in Tucson who like the way you’ve stood up to Avery Tuttle.”

  “That’s another thing,” Ballard said. “Three of Tuttle’s men came into the office tonight.”

  A look of alarm sprang into Louise’s eyes. “Not that horrible Smiler Coe, I hope. Did they threaten you or try to hurt you?”

  “Not really, and Coe wasn’t with them. They were his friends, though—Andersen, Brant, and Deere. They said they wanted an early edition of tomorrow’s paper, that their boss was curious what I was going to say about him this week.”

  “I can imagine! You tell the truth about Mr. Tuttle, and he doesn’t like that.”

  “Cockroaches never like it when the light shines on them.”

  “That’s good,” Louise said with a smile. “You should put that in next week’s editorial.”

  “Anyway, their visit, and the problem with the press, both drove it home to me that things can’t continue the way they are. Something has to change.”

  She frowned. “You’re not thinking about . . . leaving Tucson, are you, Tom? You know how much I like it here, and the air is so good for Tommy.”

  Ballard nodded. When he was two, their son—now ten years old—had come down with a serious illness that had weakened his lungs. Over time his condition had worsened back in the Midwest, until one of the doctors they had seen had recommended they try moving to an area where the air was drier. The move to Arizona Territory had indeed done wonders for Tommy’s breathing.

  “No, we’re not leaving Tucson,” Ballard reassured his wife. “Well . . . I am, but you and the children aren’t.”

  Louise stared at him. “What in the world are you talking about? I know better than to think you’d abandon us, Tom!”

  “Of course not,” he said with a shake of his head and a slight laugh. “But I am going to the territorial capital in Prescott to have a talk with the governor.”

  “Do you think he can help?”

  “He might. I happen to know that when the governor was appointed, Tuttle used his influence to try to get someone else into the post. That was one of the few times Tuttle didn’t get what he wanted, thank goodness. If he had the governor in his pocket, he really could run roughshod over the whole territory. But things like that aren’t easily forgotten. The governor knows Tuttle opposed him . . . and he knows it’ll probably happen again in the future.”

  “What are you going to ask him to do?”

  Ballard leaned back in his chair and stroked his chin. “Tuttle’s been careful not to do anything to bring the law down on his own head. I could ask the governor to send in troops, but there’s really no legal justification for that and I doubt if he’d do it. But we can fight Tuttle in other ways. A number of businesses in town are struggling. Tuttle would love to see them go under so he could take them over or at least have them out of his hair . . . like the Courier. We could keep that from happening . . . with some cash.”

  “The governor can’t just give you money,” Louise pointed out.

  “No, but he wields considerable influence with the banks. He could help arrange for a loan . . . a big loan that would help some of Tuttle’s opponents stay afloat and keep fighting him.”

  “Like the Courier.”

  Ballard inclined his head in acknowledgment of her point. “That’s true. I’m not being totally selfless here.”

  “You won’t take a loan from my father, but you will from the governor.”

  “I didn’t marry the governor’s daughter,” Ballard said dryly. “Anyway, your father couldn’t swing a big enough loan to accomplish what Tucson needs.”

  “No, I suppose not,” she admitted. “When are you going?”

  “As soon as I can.”

  “Tom”—she leaned over and put a hand on his knee—“it’ll be Christmas in less than two weeks. You don’t want to be away from your family for Christmas.”

  “I won’t be. Enough spur and branch lines exist that I can take the railroad all the way to Prescott and back. I won’t be gone more than a few days.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “I would never miss Christmas,” he promised solemnly. “Of course, this is all contingent on the governor agreeing to see me. I’ll wire him first thing in the morning and ask for an appointment.”

  “You can’t handle the whole business by telegraph?”

  Ballard shook his head. “I wouldn’t want to ask a man for such a big favor without doing it face-to-face.”

  “I suppose that makes sense. I just hate for you to be leaving at this time of year. Tommy and Alice are already starting to get excited about Christmas.”

  “I won’t be gone long.” Ballard stood up and stretched, easing muscles in his back that would be even wearier by morning. “I really ought to get back down to the office and see how Edgar’s coming along with that repair job on the press. I just wanted to talk to you about this idea.”

  “For the trip to see the governor, you mean?”

  “That’s right.”

  “It sounds like the only thing you can do, Tom. I worry about what Mr. Tuttle will do when he finds out about it, though.”

  “That’s why we have to be careful. Tuttle can’t know anything about it until something’s already been done and it’s too late for him to stop it. I wouldn’t put much of anything past that man.”

  “Neither would I.”

  To lighten the mood, Ballard bent, kissed her again, and smiled. “That’s the other reason I walked over here from the office. It’s going to be a long night, and I needed something to help me get through it.”

  She returned the smile. “Are you sure that’s enough?” she asked with a touch of boldness in her voice.

  “Unfortunately, it’ll have to be,” Ballard said with a sigh of regret. “For now.” He carried the memory of his wife’s smile and the taste of her l
ips with him as he left the house and walked back toward the newspaper office.

  At the late hour, Tucson was mostly quiet, although some music and laughter would still be coming from the saloons. Ballard didn’t intend on going anywhere near them, however. He still had work to do.

  Reaching the office, he walked in hoping to hear the press running. That would mean Torrance had finished the repair and the paper was being printed. Instead, silence greeted him.

  The silence was worrisome. If Torrance was still working on the press, there should have been a steady stream of muttered profanity accompanying his efforts.

  “Edgar?” Ballard said as he stepped into the doorway of the press room. “Having any luck with that balky contraption?”

  Torrance wasn’t there. The press was partially disassembled. The faulty gear had been removed, and the new one put in its place, but everything still needed to be put back together.

  He looked around, suddenly worried that something bad might have happened. Tuttle’s hired toughs could have returned to cause some real trouble, instead of just issuing vague threats. But there was no sign of a struggle, and thankfully, no blood on the floor or anywhere else. It looked like Edgar Torrance had just . . . vanished.

  A chill went through Ballard as he remembered how some other citizens of Tucson had dropped out of sight after standing up to Avery Tuttle. He didn’t believe anyone would have been able to drag Torrance out of there without leaving some evidence of it behind, though.

  Ballard’s worried gaze landed on the closed rear door. “You’re just getting ahead of yourself and borrowing trouble, Tom,” he muttered to himself. He went over to the door, opened it, and looked out toward the outhouse in the dim and shadowy alley, thinking Torrance had probably just stepped out there. He didn’t see anyone, so he called softly, “Edgar?”

  A low moan came from somewhere to his right.

  Ballard stiffened in alarm. He stepped out into the alley and swung in that direction, said again, more urgently, “Edgar! Are you there?”

  His right foot bumped against something. He knelt, fished a match out of his pocket, and struck it against the wall. He winced from the sudden flare of light and from the scene it revealed.

  Edgar Torrance lay on his back in the alley, close to the back wall of the newspaper office. Blood from half a dozen cuts covered his face. His lips were smashed, his nose was broken, both eyes were swollen almost shut, and bruised knots had ballooned up on his forehead and cheeks. He had been beaten brutally.

  But he was alive. His moan had told Ballard that much.

  As he knelt beside Torrance, he heard the bubbling rasp of air in the older man’s busted nose. He got an arm around his printer’s shoulders and struggled to lift him into a semisitting position, hoping it would be easier for him to breathe. “Edgar, what the hell happened?” Ballard thought he already had a pretty good idea.

  “T-Tom . . . ? That you?”

  “It’s me. You’re going to be all right, Edgar. I’ll get the doctor—”

  “Did they . . . did they do any damage . . . inside?”

  “In the office? No, not that I could see. What happened to you?”

  “I come outside . . . in the alley . . . to smoke a stogie. . . Just takin’ . . . a little rest from the work . . . on the press . . . Somebody jumped me . . . started whalin’ on me . . .”

  “Tuttle’s men,” Ballard said bitterly.

  “Dunno . . . I never got . . . never got a look at ’em . . . I figure . . . you’re right, though. Had to be . . . some of that bunch.”

  Since Torrance hadn’t seen them, he couldn’t testify to that in court. And so Tuttle’s hired hardcases would get away with their violence once again.

  Torrance clutched feebly at Ballard’s sleeve. “I tried to . . . fight ’em. Keep ’em from . . . goin’ inside.”

  “It looks like you did. You must have raised enough of a ruckus that they took off rather than hanging around to cause more trouble. Thank you, Edgar. You may have saved the newspaper.”

  “If you’ll . . . help me up . . . I’ll get back to work . . . on that press.”

  “Not tonight. I’m getting you to the doctor, and then I’ll come back and finish the job. I’ll get the rest of the paper printed, too.”

  Torrance summoned up a grin and then grimaced at the pain it caused in his swollen and bleeding lips. “Not gonna let ’em . . . get away with it . . . are you?”

  “You’re damned right I’m not.”

  CHAPTER 10

  “I really figured you’d meet us in Tucson, Preacher,” moke said as he and the old mountain man sat on the front porch of the ranch house after enjoying a fine supper prepared by Sally.

  “I was in San Antonio when your letter caught up to me, so it would’ve been easier to do that, sure enough. Comin’ all the way up here to Colorado is more than a mite out of the way.”

  “So why’d you do it?” Smoke asked as he propped his booted feet on the railing along the front of the porch.

  “Just figured it’d be more pleasurable to travel with you and Sally. How do you plan on gettin’ there?” Like most frontiersmen, Preacher was always interested in the various routes and how somebody planned on getting from one place to another. An extensive knowledge of where the trails ran and what lay along them could mean the difference between life and death. Because of that, whenever two old-timers got together, a discussion of where they had been and how they had gotten there was quite common.

  Smoke wasn’t an old-timer in years, but he had packed several lifetimes of experience and adventure into the two decades that had passed since he and his father had headed west. In answer to Preacher’s question, he said, “It would be easy enough to take the train down to El Paso and then head straight west on the Southern Pacific.”

  “But you had somethin’ else in mind?”

  “I’ve been reading about a new railroad that’s opened up from Albuquerque over west into northern Arizona Territory. We could take it through Flagstaff and Williams, and then it turns south to Phoenix. There are branch lines from there to Tucson.”

  Preacher thought about it and then nodded. “Be a mite more scenic that way, if you give a hoot in hell about scenery. All of it looks better from the back of a horse, if you ask me.”

  “Yeah, but I’m not gonna ask Sally to sit a saddle all the way to Tucson.”

  “Don’t reckon I blame you there. We probably wouldn’t make it by Christmas, neither, especially if any storms blew in along the way. You sure all the passes will be open the way you’re talkin’ about goin’?”

  “I’ll check on that,” Smoke said. “I expect they will be, though.”

  The two men sat in companionable silence for several minutes, then Preacher said, “You recollect hearin’ me talk about a fella name of Lije Connolly?”

  “The name’s familiar. Old friend of yours, isn’t he?”

  “Yep. I been told his health took a turn for the worse and he moved on down to Arizona to live out his days where it’s nice and warm. While we’re out there, I plan to look him up and say howdy, if he’s still kickin’.”

  “Well, shoot, Preacher, in that case you should’ve gone straight on out there instead of coming all the way up here.”

  Preacher’s bony shoulders rose and fell in a fatalistic shrug. “If Lije’s time is up, he’ll cross the divide whether I been to see him or not. If it ain’t, he’ll still be there. It don’t pay to make too many plans in this life, nor to worry about how things are gonna turn out. Life’s got a way of happenin’ the way it wants to. A fella said to me once, time wants a skeleton. Took me a while to figure out he meant that’s where we’re all headed.”

  From the doorway, Sally said, “Well, it seems I got here just in time to keep you from descending into doom and gloom, Preacher.”

  “You’re sure right about that,” the old mountain man said as she came out onto the porch and leaned back against the railing near where Smoke had propped his feet. “Havin’ a gal as
sweet and pretty as you around makes it plumb difficult for an old cuss to get down in the mouth.”

  “She always puts a smile on my face,” Smoke said.

  “What was that about an old friend of yours, Preacher?” she asked. “I only caught a little of what you were saying.”

  He explained again about Lije Connolly. “I got to admit, it’ll be good to see the old pelican again, if that’s how things turn out. We backed each other’s play in two or three little dustups a long time back. He’ll remember me, though. I took a bullet outta his brisket once. Saved his life. A fella don’t forget that.”

  “I hope it’ll be a good reunion for you,” Sally said. “And a nice peaceful Christmas for all of us.”

  “A nice peaceful Christmas with family and friends is about the best present anybody could get,” Smoke said.

  * * *

  Tom Ballard had been nervous before his meeting with the territorial governor, but the man’s warm, friendly smile and hearty handshake put him more at ease.

  “Tom, it’s good to see you again,” the big, bluff, gray-haired man greeted him. “How are Louise and the little ones?”

  To the best of Ballard’s recollection, he had met the governor exactly once and exchanged little more than a dozen words with him. Either the governor had a politician’s knack for names and families of anyone who might someday be in a position to help his career—or he had somebody find out those details in a hurry. It didn’t really matter which of those was true.

  “They’re fine, sir,” Ballard replied as he shook the governor’s hand.

  “And how are things in Tucson?” the governor asked as he waved Ballard into a chair in front of the big desk. “Is the Courier still holding the feet of those in power close to the flames?”

  “When it’s needed.”

  The governor grunted as he sat down. “I can think of one fellow who could do with a hotfoot.”

  “Avery Tuttle,” Ballard said.

  The governor leaned back in his chair. “He did his dead level best to see to it that I never occupied this office. I suspect that was because he knows I’m an honest man, unlike him and his cronies.”