Night Wind

by Stephen Mertz

  "Guilty as charged. So you run the town newspaper?"

  "Yes, ma'am. We're just a small town weekly. Not much of a newspaper but then, Devil Creek's not much of a town. Size-wise, that is. It's a good town, though, with good folks. Don't let those two no-accounts give you the wrong impression."

  "You're the first impression I'll remember, Mr. Flagg, and it's a good one, believe me."

  "Do you own a gun?" Paul blurted with genuine, undisguised fascination.

  Robin gave him a look. "Paul, I think we'd better get into town before it gets dark." She added, for the man's benefit, "Paul's read a lot of westerns. It was no trouble talking him into moving out here."

  "Billy the Kid rode this country," Paul said. "A lot of the books I've read took place around here."

  Thunder rumbled again in the distance. Shadows were lengthening across the land from the foot of the mountains. The sultry air of the day was dissipating on a cool breeze.

  "Does it rain often in this country, Mr. Flagg?" Robin asked.

  "Rare as hen's teeth except for the monsoon and that was finished last month. It won't rain tonight, except maybe in the mountains. Those clouds build around the peaks like that every evening, make a few rude noises like they're doing now and they're gone by the morning."

  "I'm looking forward to getting to know this land. It's all so new to me. I hope we won't have trouble finding a place to rent."

  "Matter of fact, you're talking to the right man on that score. I know a lady with a place to rent. Took in her classified ad down at the paper just this afternoon. Mrs. Lufkin. She's good people, the best, and it's a real nice place if it's the one I'm thinking of. She owns a few houses around town. You'll find her in the book under Florence Lufkin. You call her and tell her Charlie Flagg told you to get in touch."

  "Thank you. I'll call her when we get into town."

  "Here, son, let me help you change that tire."

  It was as if Paul suddenly remembered what he'd been doing. "No, thanks, Mr. Flagg, I'll take care of it."

  As Paul went back to work, the man nodded to Robin, a look that only she could see, and it conveyed that he was impressed with the boy. "Would you like me to wait around? I can follow you back into town."

  She gave the idea consideration. Paul was already replacing the flat with the spare. The job would be done in minutes. There was at least a half-hour of daylight remaining.

  "We'll be all right from here on. You've been very helpful, Mr. Flagg. Thank you again."

  "Just being neighborly. You need anything, you come by the newspaper office or give me a call, hear?" He waved to the youngster. "Paul, see you around."

  Paul paused in his labor. "See you, Mr. Flagg."

  The Bronco made a wide U-turn and drove off in the direction of town.

  They stood for a moment watching its taillights recede into the gathering dusk before disappearing around the bend in the road.

  "It really was like in a movie, Mom, the way he backed down those guys."

  "I was proud of you, Paul, the way you were ready to fight for us. You're quite a young man, do you know that?"

  She accompanied the words with a warm hug. She tried not to think about how close she and Paul had been to becoming victims.

  "Aw, Mom."

  "Come on, tough guy. Let's finish loading up. We've come this far and our new home is just around that bend in the road."

  Chapter Three

  Devil Creek formed a rectangle on a small flat among rolling hills at the foot of the mountains, straddling the highway that lead south to Las Cruces. Robin had noted during the drive out from Illinois that western communities, on their city limits signs, often took more pride in their elevation than their population. Paul quipped that this was probably because the smaller towns were embarrassed because they were so small. But she did not need to be told the population of this community, having researched the town before making her decision to relocate here.

  Devil Creek, including outlying ranches, farms and homesites, had a population of 3700. Except for a convenience store with gas pumps at either end of town, the approach from either direction was mercifully free of the strip shopping malls, the garish fast food chain neon and the drive-up motels that marred the landscape of most American small towns. The streets leading into the central district were shaded, lined with homes of varying vintage, mostly one-story structures, adobe with wooden frame, and some mobile homes on small, well-maintained lots. Devil Creek was the kind of close-knit community where neighbors took pride in their homes and yards. There was a church for most of the Christian denominations. The center of town was pleasant and clean. A handful of modernized brick and plate glass structures—a small branch bank office, a gas station, a hardware store and a locally owned supermarket—lined one of the two blocks that constituted downtown.

  In the next block, to one side were Ritchie's Tavern, Donna's Café, a lawyer's office and a medical building where a dentist and a pair of family physicians shared space with a pharmacy. The opposite side of the street was evenly divided between a park and the Town Hall. The park, complete with a fountain and half-a-dozen picnic tables, was lined with ash trees and dogwoods whose tops were tinted with leaves just beginning to turn yellow, the first hint of approaching autumn. Town Hall, where the city government offices and the police department and jail were located, was a one-level structure of red brick.

  Robin and Paul stopped at the gas station to replace the flat tire when they reached town. The attendant, a cheery teenager, had shaken his head while removing the ruined rubber from the rim.

  "Never seen one tore up this bad, even for a blowout. You were real lucky, ma'am. Something must have sure tore into it."

  Robin had called Mrs. Lufkin and introduced herself from the pay phone at the gas station, and made an appointment at nine o'clock the following morning for a look at the house for rent. With a new tire purchased and mounted on the Subaru, she and Paul had then proceeded to spend the night in the town's only motel. They'd gone to Devil Creek's only restaurant for breakfast the next morning.

  Mrs. Lufkin was waiting in a Datsun pickup when they arrived for their appointment. Florence Lufkin couldn't have been more than five-one, and weighed no more than one hundred pounds. Yet her diminutive frame seemed to embody a spunky, downright feisty energy and spirit that belied her years. Her features were creased with the lines of a life of honest work. It was a wise face, with sparkling, kindly eyes and a smile that was warm and genuine. Snowy white hair, tied back, retained streaked traces of blonde. She had been a stunningly beautiful young woman and, though the mahogany skin was deeply-lined, the natural beauty remained. She wore a faded red bandanna knotted around her neck, a western-style shirt, well-worn jeans, and scuffed tennis shoes.

  "Well, my dear, what do you say?" she asked when they'd completed their tour of the house. "Five hundred dollars a month and utilities, and you and young Paul can call it home." Her tone implied that, personally, she liked the idea.

  It was a small adobe home of windows that splashed golden sunlight across the hardwood floors and white walls, filling the furnished house with a warm, soothing ambiance that appealed to Robin as soon as she set foot inside. The comfortable furnishings were Southwestern in motif. There were two bedrooms, a bath with a shower, a small kitchen-dining room combination and an airy living room. Best of all, behind the carport was a room attached to the house with a washer and dryer. The laundry room was adjacent to a patio that overlooked the mountains.

  "We'll take it, Mrs. Lufkin." Robin felt fresh in a pressed blue blouse and white skirt. Despite Charlie Flagg's tip, she'd been prepared to spend the entire day house hunting if necessary. However, she had taken an instant liking to her new landlady. "Would you like me to sign a lease?"

  "Heavens, no." The older woman waved a hand, dismissing the thought. "I like you, Robin, and I always trust people I like. I think you'll be happy here and I know you'll take good care of the place."

  "We will, I promise y
ou that."

  "The gas, cable, and electricity are already on. I know how hard it can be to make ends meet when a person moves halfway across the country and doesn't know a soul. I came west from Pennsylvania when I was twenty-one." Florence Lufkin chuckled. "In some ways that seems so long ago, like I was another person. In other ways, it seems like yesterday." She cleared her throat. "Anyway, you can have the billing for the utilities changed to your name and that way you won't have to pay a deposit for a new account."

  "That's very kind of you. I don't mind telling you that Paul and I are on a pretty tight budget until my first paycheck."

  "The whole country's having troubles like that, it seems. Times like these, we little people have to stick together."

  They stood on the patio after a tour of the house that could have been completed in five minutes, but which had in fact become a pleasant, rambling conversation that consumed almost an hour. The Welcome to Devil Creek sign had stated that the elevation was 4900 feet, and last night had brought on chilly temperatures with a bite. This morning, though, the thermometer was already climbing nicely.

  The house was situated on an acre and a half of land, the last residence on a graveled country road on the edge of town, surrounded on three sides by open field. Rolling hills began practically at the back property line, the land sweeping upward into ravines and tree-covered slopes beneath a sky that was crisp and blue.

  "The mountains look completely different now from when Paul and I drove in last night," Robin commented.

  Mrs. Lufkin nodded. "The beauty of this land is in its shifting shadows and changing colors. You notice a lot for someone from the city."

  "I love nature. Always have. But I feel that I'm really getting acquainted with it for the first time in my life by moving out here."

  "Well, there's plenty of nature to love in these parts." A trace of pride sparkled in the woman's voice. "Those mountains we're looking at will be changing colors all day. Do you see how those peaks over yonder are a light tan? They'll be a deeper brown by this afternoon and before sunset, why, you won't believe it. They'll be a warm, rosy red. Then they start turning purple. They're black silhouettes after the sun goes down. I watch those mountains from my house when there's a moon, sometimes for hours."

  "They're lovely. The whole town is lovely. I'm so glad Mr. Flagg suggested that I call you. With this house on the same end of town as the school, it couldn't be more perfect. I especially like the large lot."

  Mrs. Lufkin sniffed with mock disdain. "Heck, an acre and a half isn't large. There's hundred-acre spreads and better all over this county."

  "Still, where we come from the houses are practically right on top of each other. It will be good to have some breathing space."

  "Glad you feel that way. You're at the end of the road so it's all open country to three sides, and I don't think that new tenant next door will bother you any. Mr. Landware, his name is. I rented to him yesterday. I liked him, too. He brought boxes of books with him and that's about all he had except for a typewriter and one suitcase. But, like I said, I trust my instincts. That doesn't mean I'm a pushover, but I'm usually right."

  "What does he do?"

  "He's a writer, so he said."

  Robin recalled the feeling of isolation last evening outside town when the teenage toughs had accosted her and Paul. "I suppose it's good to have a neighbor in case of an emergency."

  "It's always good to have a man around," said Mrs. Lufkin. "Oh, they can be a nuisance, right enough. Reckon I'm as liberated as an old gal my age can be. I run my own business. I've done men's work all my life. But doggone it, there's something reassuring about having them around." A trace of moisture glistened in her eyes. "I lost my Billy in Vietnam when he was nineteen and my Joe died of cancer a couple years later and I've been alone ever since. I think of those two men every day. I visit their graves every Sunday. You see, I know what it's like to have menfolk around and not want to lose them . . . and lose them."

  Robin didn't know what to say. "Mrs. Lufkin, I'm sorry."

  The woman brushed at her eyes, as if wiping away specks of dust, and shook her head once, banishing the mood. "Forgive me, child. At my age a body tends to ramble." The brightness returned. "Anyway, except for Mr. Landware, your next neighbor is a half-mile down the road. It's not a bad thing for a single woman to know her neighbors out here, just in case. I think you and Mr. Landware will get along fine."

  "I'm sure we will. With school starting on Monday, I expect to be very busy."

  "That's important work you're doing, educating young minds. If there's anything I can do to help you get settled in, you be sure to let me know."

  "I certainly will. Mr. Flagg offered to help last night. People are so friendly out here."

  "Comes from living so far off the beaten path, I expect. We don't get many newcomers. Some people make it their summer home, but most of them are gone by now. I think you and Mr. Landware are the first new arrivals in, oh, it's been a year since Charlie Flagg moved here." Mrs. Lufkin cleared her throat. "Now don't think I'm being a nosey old so-and-so, because your business is your business. I just want to say that I respect you for coming all this distance like you have."

  Robin felt embarrassed. And a little perplexed. "What do you mean?"

  "I mean you being a single mother and all, picking up and moving all the way here from where you're from. It does my heart good to see a young woman like you striking out on her own. That's what the West is for. It's always been that way. It's a place of new beginnings. That's the pioneer spirit."

  Robin smiled. "I'm not that young, Mrs. Lufkin. I'm thirty-four."

  "Honey, when you're seventy-eight, everyone is young. You're a knockout. You'll find there's not much nightlife out here. Las Cruces is an hour away. That's where most of the single folks hereabouts go to meet other single folks."

  "I like Devil Creek just the way it is."

  "I hope that young one of yours likes it. A child that's used to the big city could get mighty restless out here."

  "Paul will meet kids his age, and he's good at entertaining himself. Oh, he likes his TV and video games, but I started reading to him when he was still a baby, and he's grown up loving to read. You'll never know how thankful I am that he knows how to amuse himself quietly."

  "Paul is a good, solid old-fashioned name."

  "He was named after his grandfather, Paul Samuel."

  It was then that the realization struck home that she had become so enchanted with this new acquaintance and so engrossed in their conversation that she'd lost track of Paul's whereabouts. She had enough faith in Paul's intelligence and resourcefulness to generally allow him a reasonable degree of personal freedom, to the extent that he was a twelve-year-old. But for one moment, that inexplicable sense of alarm she'd experienced last night on the highway tremored through her despite the sunshine and the pleasant company. She found herself compelled to hurriedly cross the patio to where she could glance in either direction across the backyard.

  Something in her manner prompted Mrs. Lufkin to ask, "What is it? Is something wrong?"

  "I was just wondering where Paul is." She was startled at the concern she heard in her own voice. "He must be out in the car waiting for me, reading a book."

  "He can't have gone far. Let's go find him."

  The older woman led the way back through the house toward the front door. Robin followed, feeling mildly embarrassed. And yet her stomach muscles were cramped. As she followed Mrs. Lufkin through the house, she found herself at one level rationally trying to analyze these strange flashes of alarm and urgency she'd begun experiencing. It was weird. This isn't like me, she thought. This isn't like me at all.

  Chapter Four

  She could not hold back a sigh of relief when she and Mrs. Lufkin stepped onto the front porch and she saw Paul in the driveway. Her son was engaged in earnest conversation with a man who was busily adjusting the front wheel of Paul's bicycle, which was still attached to the bike rack at the rear
of the car.

  Paul was positively beaming. "Hi, Mom. This is Mike. He lives next door."

  The man gave the wrench a final twist. "There you go," he said to Paul. "Must have worked itself loose on the trip down."

  "Thanks!" Paul bubbled with enthusiasm. "Mom, Mike's a writer."

  The man slipped the wrench into his back pocket and strode forward, smiling. "Part time journalist, actually. Ex-full time."

  He was in his late forties. About five-ten, he moved with an easy grace that suggested a strongly-centered self-confidence. Muscular enough, though not in an overly-developed, body-building sort of way. He wore an open-necked shirt, brown corduroy slacks and athletic shoes. Ebony hair was touched with gray at the temples. Not movie star handsome. There was the shiny sliver of an old, slight scar over his left eye. The eyes were dark blue and steady, cordial, yet somehow cool and distant.

  Mrs. Lufkin made the introductions.

  "Michael Landware, Robin Curtis. You two are not only neighbors, you're the first new arrivals we've had in Devil Creek in some time."

  They shook hands. A brief handshake.

  "It's nice to meet you, Mr. Landware." His handshake was firm, the touch warm. "I appreciate you helping Paul with his bike."

  "My pleasure. Please, call me Mike. And how are you today, Mrs. Lufkin?"

  Mrs. Lufkin glanced at her wristwatch. "As a matter of fact, I'm late! Reverend Kroeger asked me to stop by the church to help with preparations for the bake sale. I hope you kids don't mind, but I've got to run."

  "Of course not," Robin said.

  Mike Landware cracked a smile and for an instant the coolness, that aloofness she'd sensed, gave way to what sounded like sincere fondness for the landlady. "Mrs. L., I haven't known you for long, but I'd be willing to bet you've always got somewhere to go and something to do."

  Mrs. Lufkin enjoyed hearing this. It was obviously how she saw herself, just as it was obviously true. "I reckon a writer has to be an observant fella," she acknowledged with a lowering of the eyes, which Robin could only think of as coquettish. "Well, I'll see you both later."