Mollie's McGuire

Chapter 1

Book 2, Copper Stars of Cochise
May 1984, Bisbee, Arizona

"He's here."

The whispers ran through the halls and offices of the Cochise County Sheriff's Department in a flash flood of excitement.

"He's here. The new Chief Criminal Deputy is in Sheriff Corbin's office right now!"

Mollie Rodriguez shrugged, automatically reaching to toss her single braid back over her shoulder. It wasn't there. She missed that braid--it had been there for over twenty years, but her hair was growing. Another year and the length would be almost back to normal again. With a sigh, she kept on working.

No use getting upset about either my hair or the new man. I'll see the new boss soon enough. If he's anything like Pete Lawson, perhaps too soon.

Rumors said he was from Texas. With a name like Wade Hampton McGuire, he'd probably be red-necked as anything. He'd probably hate anyone with a Mexican sounding name just as strongly as his predecessor had. Tension stiffened her whole body at the mere thought of Pete. She'd never gotten along with him, but he was gone now.

For mid-May, the day was unusually hot in mile-high Bisbee. Arizona. The old courthouse, although it was an art deco masterpiece, did not have the best air conditioning. The heat was hard on the employees but harder still on the newly installed computer system.

That new system was Mollie's pride and joy. She'd helped design the software, and then used it to create every one of the applications which made communications and record keeping much more efficient for both the hard-working dispatch office she directed and the field deputies.

She'd spent the past week with the team that installed the system but today she was on her own. After she glanced up at the thermometer above the main server, she sighed. Eighty-five was too hot but there wasn't much she could do about that. Supposedly HVAC technicians were working on the air conditioning, and maybe it would cool off to more seasonal temperatures soon, anyway. Her thoughts drifted back to the problems at hand.

Starting tomorrow, I'll have to start teaching the dispatchers how to use the new system. Give the deputies a quick briefing on the new procedures, too. Most of them will appreciate the reduction in paper work. Since that aspect of the job is almost universally hated, maybe I can make that a selling point to gain their cooperation even though nearly everyone dislikes changes. Some of the old timers will definitely drag their feet.

She smiled at that thought. None of the men on the department quite went back to the days of I.V. Pruitt, the legendary sheriff who'd inspired a television series when she was a kid, but some had come on board not too long afterwards. They were definitely set in their ways. If it came to that, she'd send them in to Sheriff Corbin. He was backing her new system one hundred and ten percent.

A few years ago, the idea of holding classes and addressing fifteen or twenty of her fellow employees would have terrified her. She'd come a long way. Part of it had been forced on her by necessity when her husband's death in a mine accident had left her with four children to support and an urgent need to get the best paying job she could. She'd come back to Bisbee and worked her way through waitress and clerk positions to that of a dispatcher for the Sheriff's Department. Now she was the department head. Most of the men treated her with a level of respect that still surprised her at times.

After Pete Lawson, the previous Chief Criminal Deputy, had been involved in a near fatal accident, left the department under a cloud of suspicion, and eventually had been convicted of involvement with a major drug ring, her life had become much easier. Pete was a demanding and domineering man, as well as prejudiced. He never made a secret of having little confidence in her. Not only was she a woman but also a Mexican. That was two strikes against her from the start. She sighed again. If only Lieutenant McGuire will be different...

She could call Mary Williams, Sheriff Corbin's secretary, and see if the rumors of McGuire's arrival were true. She could even ask Mary what her impression was of the new man. But she didn't. What would be would be.

Behind her at the communications console, she heard dispatcher Rik Coulter calmly handling incoming calls and station to car contacts. Although he was confined to a wheel chair because of losing his legs to terrorist actions while he was in the Marines, Rik was one of her best dispatchers. In fact, Rik and Penny Keller Hawke were the mainstays of her staff.

If Sheriff Corbin continued his plan to expand the dispatch and records units, they'd both probably become supervisors in their own right. If that occurred, Mollie hoped she'd be able to assume the role of system administrator and concentrate on keeping the computers at peak performance. At least they never talked back or had personal problems.

Just then some instinct made her turn and face the open doorway into the corridor. She saw Sheriff Corbin first, a short, husky man with a round, ruddy countenance and a politician's memory for names and faces. Then Corbin stepped to one side and another man entered behind him. A stranger, who had to be McGuire.

The new man was taller than Corbin, probably around six feet tall, built lean and wiry. His angular face showed a deep tan and the weathering of a lifetime in the southwestern sun. He wore his iron-gray hair close-cropped. A neat matching moustache crossed his upper lip under a strong nose. The keen gaze of his faded blue eyes swept the room, touching Rik briefly in passing before he settled his attention on Mollie. For a breath or two she could not move or even think.

In spite of the stern and austere lines of his face, there was something both kind and sad in the man's expression. A fan of feathery lines extended from the outer corner of each eye and deep grooves traced the curves of his nostrils and arched down to the corners of his mouth. In one hand he held a silver-gray Stetson, the trademark hat of the Texas lawmen. The one the Cochise deputies wore was tan instead of gray, but the style was much the same. His dark brown trousers and taupe shirt would almost match the latest version of the county uniform, though. Both pants and shirt were crisply pressed, the creases neat and militarily-precise.

Here's a man with pride, but also a person who's known hardship and sorrow. Mollie wasn't sure where that sudden conviction came from, but she knew it as surely as she knew her name. She struggled to her feet, grabbing the edge of the computer table to regain the balance she briefly lost. In that moment, with her attention diverted from McGuire's intent study, she managed to regain her poise. As she turned smoothly to face the two men, she forced a smile.

Sheriff Corbin held his hand out toward her. The motion drew her to him without even a touch. She had to like and respect Corbin. He'd never been anything but kind and supportive, even in the rockiest days of her training and her later problems with Pete. He turned to look back at McGuire while she approached close enough to let him settle his hand on her shoulder.

"Wade, this is Mollie Rodriguez. Not only our dispatch and records chief, she's a whiz with this new computer stuff. She's also as good a dispatcher as ever keyed a radio. I hired her ten years ago and never regretted it a minute. You can count on her to keep this area in top shape."

Once she would have blushed and fidgeted at such effusive praise. Now she merely stood impassively and accepted it, whether due or not. At least Corbin was sincere, not just buttering her up.

Again McGuire's cool gaze swept her face and then met hers. He nodded slightly. Then he extended a square blunt-fingered hand.

"I'm pleased to meet you, Ms. Rodriguez. In a day or two, I'd like a detailed briefing over what you have here and how it all works, but right now I'm just getting the cook's tour."

She accepted the clasp of his hand, answering the pressure of his squeeze, neither too hard nor too easy. His handshake felt firm, warm, and as steady as the man himself seemed to be. So why did an electric, wary tingle flash up her arm and buzz through her head, speeding up her heartbeat? Just nerves, of course. Meeting the new boss has to be a tense moment.

Again she forced a smile. "I'm at your disposal, Sir, as much as I can be and still do the necessary job here. We're all learning about this equipment right now, so I hope we can learn together and get up to speed quickly. If the system proves to be all the advertisements said, it should make everyone's job easier soon."

"These days cops need all the help they can get," McGuire said. "I hope that proves true."

After Corbin introduced him to Rik, he turned and spoke briefly with the dispatcher. Then the two men left.

Mollie leaned against the wall, feeling oddly shaky, a little bit dizzy. What's wrong with me? I haven't felt this way since I had my final chemo treatment last October. It's too soon to make judgments, but Mr. McGuire seems nice enough. Of course Pete could be charming too, but when he was, it always felt phony. Somehow Mr. McGuire seems real. But I don't dare trust him, not yet.

This rush of thoughts poured through her mind as she crossed back to the computer terminal. At least the machinery was consistent, predictable. Frustrating sometimes but once you understood what to do, how to do it, the response was almost certain. Predictability--she liked that. On the other hand, people were anything but. Sometimes that was scary.

* * *

Wade McGuire levered off his boots before he swung his legs up onto the hotel bed. Leaning back against the headboard, he channel-surfed the available television. He knew already he wouldn't find anything there to hold his interest. What the hell am I doing in Bisbee, Arizona? It wasn't the first time he had asked himself that question. He still couldn't come up with a satisfactory answer. Fifteen months ago, he'd been chief of police in a mid-sized west Texas town, happily married to his high school sweetheart and wife of twenty-five years, proud of his two kids who were doing well in school, and basically satisfied with life.

Then a routine traffic stop had gone bad. As result of taking a couple of bullets, he'd damn near knocked on death's door. He'd just about recovered physically, but mentally? That was another question, one he didn't want to consider yet.

Now his wife--make that his ex-wife--was about to marry his doctor, someone else had his old job, and he was trying to figure out how to put the scrambled pieces of his life together again. He wasn't sure he wanted to be in law enforcement anymore, but what else could he do? There was little call these days for forty-eight year old cowboys. That was the only other experience he had. When he saw an ad for the Chief Criminal Deputy in Cochise County, Arizona, he'd applied. Bisbee seemed a safe distance away from everything that triggered bad memories. He'd thrown his gear into his pickup and headed west. Now he was here. Tomorrow he'd officially start to work.

He exhaled in a long sigh and shook his head. Might as well try and make the best of it since I don't have a home to go back to. After Dad died in '79, Mom saw none of the boys wanted the cow-starving ranch. She'd sold out and moved to Amarillo. Sue would soon be Mrs. Doctor Albert Brandmeyer, with all the comforts the well-to-do physician could provide and none of the bad surprises that could come to a lawman's wife. Near grown now, the kids were busy with their own lives, while he was here, a place probably no worse than many others. At least I do have a job. Luckier than I might have been.

For some reason, the vision of Mollie Rodriguez crossed his mind. She was tall for a woman, at least for a Mexican woman. Must have some Indian blood, maybe Tarahumara. A handsome woman, too. Wary eyes with a mixture of pride and uncertainty in her expression. Nice body if the subtle hints those casually fitted clothes revealed were a clue. And legs, they went on forever. Probably about forty, mature but not showing much age yet.

She'd been taking his measure, no doubt about that. Whether she'd been satisfied with what she saw or not, he didn't know. From what Jerry Corbin said, she was a kingpin in the department, which meant he'd better try to get along with her, no matter what. When you're a newbie, folks can make things rough, even if you're nominally the boss. He hadn't been a stranger for a long time. The feeling was not comfortable. He was going to have a lot of learning to do and some proving, too. In this business trust and respect had to be earned, which was really only right.

At that point, a word in a news program out of Tucson caught his interest. Rustling. Now that was something you didn't hear a lot about anymore, but he knew it still went on. Cattle were vanishing from southern Arizona ranches in numbers large enough to cause some alarm. A few horses were missing too. The talking head on the TV didn't have any good answers, didn't even ask good questions of the two ranchers he interviewed, but the little that came out was enough to start wheels turning in Wade's mind.

He was no stranger to cattle ranching, especially ranching on the edge of poverty in arid southwestern country where it took a heap of acres to feed a cow all year long. That meant a lot of big pastures and a lot of empty space where someone could catch a cow here, a cow there, kill them on the spot or load them into a truck and be miles away before anyone missed a few head of beeves. He nodded, a wry grin twisting his lips as he clicked off the remote at the end of the news. New job might be interesting, after all.

* * *

Mollie drew a deep breath, letting it out slowly as she gently set the phone back in its cradle. McGuire was coming down for the briefing she'd promised. For some reason she hadn't been able to get him out of her mind since they met Friday. That fact disturbed her, troubling her normal calm acceptance of whatever life handed out.

"Hello, Mollie Rodriguez." The voice was soft and low with a trace of a drawl.

She whirled to face the speaker, surprised that he'd been able to approach without alerting her. "Hello, Mr. McGuire." Her voice sounded higher than usual, more breathy and less certain. She didn't like that at all.

"Wade," he corrected gently. "I hate bein' formal with the people I work with. Like family, you can't pick but have to take what you get. Still, it's just as necessary to get along. It doesn't help to be all stiff and proper. I realize the boss can't really be a friend, but I won't stay behind any walls or set myself above the other folks."

Mollie cocked her head slightly, once again assessing this stranger who'd be such an important person in her life, starting this very day. She found she wanted to like him, to trust him. That was strange. She rarely felt comfortable with people she didn't know. Was there a sparkle of humor lurking behind the cool color of his eyes? A smile twitched her lips, wanting to shine forth, but she restrained it. She had to ask. "Are you kidding or just making small talk?"

"Neither one," he said. "I know I'm coming into a basically stable department, coming in near the top, which makes folks nervous. I don't want nervous people worried about what I'm going to do. Nervous people screw up, make errors that can cause someone to get hurt. That's the last thing I want. What I do want is for this transition to slip by smooth as a well-greased windmill, everything just quietly turning and doing its job."

Wise words, good sounding words, if he means them. Mollie let the smile out a little bit. "I like the sound of that, Wade. I understand you have a lot of years in law enforcement, most of them in west Texas, which is not a lot different from this area."

He nodded. "It's all I've ever done besides cowboying for my dad and a short stint in the Army. Law enforcement has been my life. For now, I don't plan to change a thing. I won't until I've been here long enough to know if something is broke enough to need fixin'. You're in touch with most all the folks, so I'd take it kindly if you'd spread that word for me."

"I'd be glad to," Mollie replied. "I think knowing that will do a lot to ease the anxiety. New brooms usually want to sweep clean. Everyone tends to be on edge."

For a long few seconds they looked at each other, until finally he broke the intent gaze. "I'd like for you to show me how everything works here," he said. "But if it's not a good time, just tell me and we'll postpone until it is."

"There's probably no time like the present," Mollie admitted. "Linda McCall is handling the console, so unless something major breaks loose, all I have to do for now is monitor the system. I can do that while I show you everything here at the same time."

She quickly found that Wade McGuire was no slouch when it came to technology. He might have worked in a small town but he'd kept up with developments pretty well. Mollie showed him the main server and explained each link in the complex system. Recorders for all communications, time stamps for each entry, an inventory for evidence and any property seized during arrests or taken into custody by the department. She explained the additional codes that placed each incident in the correct part of the database, the elaborate cross-reference system for contacts, suspects, perps and witnesses.

He asked searching questions, questions that proved he understood her explanations. It took her over an hour to walk him through the whole system from end to end. Afterwards, they paused beside her desk. He gazed at the floor, a distant thoughtful expression on his face.

"I'm impressed," he said after a moment's silence. "Jerry tells me you had a major part in designing the system and setting it up. That's impressive, too. How did a small town lady learn so much about technology?"

Mollie felt the unwelcome flush heat her face. Caramba! I ought to take a small compliment in stride. She hesitated, trying to frame an answer. His question could have been condescending, but she sensed it wasn't. That meant he deserved an honest answer.

"I've been fascinated by computers since they first became available to the public. My husband thought I was crazy when I got a Commodore 64 for the kids. Carmen was just seven then, young Joe not quite six, and the twins still in diapers. I figured they needed to get in on the ground floor, because this was where the future was going. I learned right along with the kids, too. Then I took a few courses down at Cochise College. They have some great instructors, mostly people from the Army who work with all the high-tech stuff at Fort Huachuca. I felt we weren't using technology to the advantage we could. I went to Sheriff Corbin with my ideas. He liked them, and told me to run with it. This is the result."

She glanced up, catching the approval in his face before he spoke.

"Looks to me like you've done a whale of a job. Keep me posted on any problems that come up, especially if you get any flack from the field deputies about the new procedures. Some of them may not recognize the advantages right off. The older fellows are set in their ways--like me, if I'm not careful." He grinned then, an engaging little-boy sort of grin.

"I'll do that," Mollie said. "So far the response has been pretty positive, but I know there will be a few who won't want to change. If they get too stubborn, I'll send them to you."

He thanked her before he left. The silence that fell when she was again alone seemed less comforting than usual.

* * *

Several hours later, Wade slipped out the back door from the second story of the courthouse, each floor of which opened onto the street level at some point. He combed one hand through his hair and settled his Stetson firmly in place as he headed for his new "company car." The white sedan bore the county seal on the side, but lacked any other distinctive indications that it was a "cop car." At night it would be fairly unobtrusive, which suited him just fine. For awhile, he intended to spend quite a bit of time on the road, learning the area, monitoring the radio traffic, and keeping a quiet eye on his staff.

Cochise County was roughly 6,300 square miles, one 85 mile side the Mexican border. That border was mostly miles of simple five-strand barbwire fence, which made a frail barrier against drugs, illegal immigrants, stolen property and maybe rustled livestock. Wade knew his predecessor had almost died in a fiery crash, which ended a wild chase of suspected drug smugglers. Two of the smugglers did die in the three-vehicle accident.

He suspected there were many tales he hadn't yet been told, perhaps never would be, but he wouldn't let that scare him off. Although he still got a cold chill at times, remembering exactly how it felt when a chunk of lead tore through your body, the debilitating fear he'd suffered for the first few days was fading. I think I can do this job, do it right. Hope to God I can, anyway.

For a moment, Mollie Rodriguez's radiant smile crossed his mind. That smile transformed her strong austere face into a thing of beauty. Mollie's smiles seemed to come from her heart. None of those toothy shark-grins like the models. Seemed like most women these days had those false smiles that never reached their eyes

After Sue took herself out of his life, he'd written women off as a luxury a small town cop could not afford. Maybe no cop could. Mollie's smile made him want to consider other possibilities, but he knew he'd be a fool to try. Come on, man, quit mooning like a smitten teenager. The lady is probably married with a dozen kids. She said something about her husband, after all.

He drove down to the Copper Queen Hotel, where he'd taken a room until he could find more permanent lodging. After dinner, he'd get back in the car and go for a drive, but right now, his belly told him it was definitely chow time.

The waitress who led him to a corner table in the dining room and took his order looked like a younger version of Mollie, as if he needed a reminder. Kid was probably younger than his daughter, Tammy, though. She was clearly nervous, causing him to guess she was new on the job. Tammy was nineteen now, started college this past year. Where did the time go? Although his daughter was blonde like her mother, this coltish young Chicana reminded him of Tammy as well as of Mollie.

He vowed to be patient with the waitress, even if she proved to be slow and awkward, but she was neither. She brought his order quickly, kept his coffee cup filled and took care of several other early diners as well. A pretty little thing, black hair swept up in a high ponytail, amber eyes, and features that hinted at Indian ancestry. He sneaked a look at her nametag when she came to clear his plate away.

"Thank you, Carmen. Everything was just fine."

She rewarded him with a shy smile, which again brought Mollie to mind. He left her a generous tip before paying the bill. As he walked out into the warm evening, he debated about which vehicle to take, his own pickup or the county sedan. He settled on the sedan, mainly because it had a radio. Half of his purpose for driving around this evening was to start getting acquainted with the area and the department. Monitoring the radio traffic would be part of that effort.

When he reached the cobble-paved main street, he hesitated. West over the Mule Mountains or east down into the Sulpher Springs Valley? Not that it mattered. Both would be new territory as well as part of the vast area his men patrolled. With a shrug, he turned east to drive down around the Lavender Pit, named not for a color but for a long-gone Phelps Dodge company official.

The pit was now idle with copper priced too low and environmental protections too costly to allow any profit in mining. Maybe someday that would change so Bisbee would again become a boom town. For now, the town held to a knot at the end of its rope, serving as county seat and not much else except a minor Mecca for tourists, the arty set and a few retirees. Not too different from the oil patch and the west Texas ranching communities he had recently left behind.

As he left the traffic circle to head down the canyon toward the valley, Wade reached to flip on his two-way radio then lowered the squelch until the squawk of static faded. The second shift had been out for a couple of hours now. Soon the dispatcher would start the hourly welfare checks--a call to each car on the road to be sure the officers were okay unless they had been heard from in the last sixty minutes. It was a reasonable system. He'd approved when Mollie told him about the procedure.

The radio crackled, catching his attention.

"26 to Bisbee. I'm going to be out at the crossroads of High Lonesome and Davis Road. Got loose cattle in the roadway. Call the Davis Ranch and let them know they've got some fence down. Looks like a vehicle went out of control and cut across a corner here. Took out about fifty feet of fence."

"That's 10-4, 26. Should I call the Brand Inspector, too?"

"Wouldn't hurt. This could be linked to some of the recent rustling incidents."

Wade didn't recognize the dispatcher's voice, but she sounded smooth, calm and professional. Probably Penny Hawke, one he hadn't met yet. If so, the Brand Inspector she mentioned was her husband, Val Hawke. The former deputy now worked for the State, inspecting livestock for health prior to shipment and checking brands when animals were moved or sold. Hawke has an even larger territory to cover than any of the deputies do the whole damn county. H's a person who'd also be concerned with rustling. And there's that word--rustling--cropping up again.

 

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