Presidio Da St. José Chuk-Shon

By Carl Snook

Tony Wilcox is running from his past and into his new job all caused by the tragic death of his wife in an automobile accident just two blocks from their home in Cheyenne Wyoming. With in the drive to Tucson, Arizona Tony runs into a massive snow storm in the mountains near Flagstaff Arizona where he is forced to drag a beautiful woman from behind the steering wheel of her crumpled automobile. His activities not only saved the woman from certain death from fire and then possably freezing to death, it set into motion an adventure that brings the two together in a way that neither would suspect.
From his new job in Tucson Tony finds how events from the exploring Father Eusebio Francisco Kino effects small mining towns in mid Arizona as well as the massive gamboling casinos of Los Vegas and the one and only battle fought in the Civil War in the state of Arizona. But yet Tonys biggest surprise is yet to come.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Aug 14, 2012
• ISBN: 9781477205648

Carl Snook

Carl Snook is a retired sixty-eight year old native of Phoenix, Arizona. He writes about the people and places that have made history in Arizona throughout the years. Having lived and traveled throughout Arizona all of his life Carl enjoys learning and then writing about the people of our colorful past and present.

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© 2012 by Carl Snook. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 08/08/2012

ISBN: 978-1-4772-0563-1 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4772-0564-8 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2012908649

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Contents

Part One

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Part Two

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty One

Chapter Twenty Two

Chapter Twenty Three

Chapter Twenty Four

Chapter Twenty Five

Chapter Twenty Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Part One

Chapter One

My name is Tony Wilcox I have been on the road for over ten and a half hours. That is all right though I suppose, I had planned a long leisurely drive from Cheyenne, Wyoming to a new home in Tucson, Arizona. This drive has allowed me time to think back over the past few years, and maybe even time to get some things straight within my head. In Tucson, I am to begin my new job as a corporate lawyer in a business my uncle has recently started. This job is to be a new start for me also. I think that I am looking forward to the task.

The thinking, while driving, was there for therapy, to get rid of all of the ghosts that I am running from. Should I have tried to stay and work out all of the problems or was I right in going? Hell, I might even become fit to live with, should I get things straightened within my head.

Although it had been an easy trip up to this point, I have a feeling that things were about to change. I have been listening to a radio station out of Albuquerque, New Mexico, since leaving Walsenburg, Colorado. That radio station gives the best signal for people who are driving west across the Continental Divide from Walsenburg toward the city of Durango. Since I first tuned onto the station, their weatherman has predicted a massive snowstorm across the Four Corners area of New Mexico, Arizona, Utah, and Colorado. If the weatherman is correct, the storm would hit sometime within the next couple of hours. Should that be accurate, I can probably make it to Flagstaff, Arizona before the weather will force me to stop for the night. If I have to stop in Flagstaff, to wait out the storm, at least I can have warm food and a good bed. I can even call to my uncle in Tucson to explain the delay.

I crossed the border between Colorado and Arizona and traveled several miles into the barren northeast section of Arizona. The call of nature has just begun its pull at my kidneys. I knew the next town of any size is the small village of Tuba City, Arizona. I feel reasonably sure that I can make it that far. According to my map, Tuba City is between eighty and ninety miles north of Flagstaff, in the middle of the Navajo Indian Reservation. Perhaps it would be a good place to stretch my legs. More than likely, I should also take time for a good strong cup of coffee, to keep me awake for the remainder of the trip, but definitely a good place to relieve myself.

As I looked out at the long straight stretch of asphalt before me I began to think back to the circumstances that caused me to move from Cheyenne to Tucson in the dead of winter. Why was it necessary to change from a job that I had worked at for over five years, to begin a new one in a completely different state doing something similar, but yet, completely different?

For one, I met Wanda after I graduated from Harvard Law School and was already working in Phoenix, Arizona as an accident Lawyer. She was a student of Art at the Arizona State University, where I often stopped to use the school library. After a quick courtship we married and moved to Cheyenne. It was her desire to live near her parents, and I had no problems with that. We moved to within a mile of where her parents lived in Cheyenne. There I could have a job with her father until I passed the Wyoming State legal bar exam, something that a newly wed couple could not pass up.

Right after we moved to Cheyenne, I started to work as a car salesman at her fathers GMC, Pontiac, and Buick Dealership. I worked at the dealership during the early hours of the day and studied for the exam during the evening hours. I applied for the Bar Exam of Wyoming within a half year of our arrival, and I was accepted. I passed the exam on the first try. In time, I worked as an accident lawyer in one of the largest law firms in Cheyenne. Within one year, the Cheyenne Gazette touted me as one of the best accident lawyer in the state of Wyoming. Two months later I switched over to work for a competitor as a junior partner at about double the previous pay, and with voting rights.

I actually liked being able to help people, to get them a fair and honest return for their accidents. What’s more, I made a good living helping them.

By the end of the fourth year after arrival, Wanda died in a head-on collision with a semi that had lost control on an icy winter road, only a mile from our front door steps. Then shortly after that, a very large legal conglomerate purchased the law firm where I was working. The conglomerate had law offices in eight western states. Our office was the first in the state of Wyoming. A very tidy amount had been paid for the purchase of the business name, along with all of the decision rights. The original partners and I retained the title of ‘partner’, but we no longer had voting rights. In effect we were common company lawyers with a title, nothing more. Within a very short time, we found out that the new corporation was not interested in what was fair and honest for our clients, it was simply what or how much the company could get for the corporation. Weeks later, fees were increased from twenty-five percent to a hefty thirty-three percent on all collections. Often as much as a five thousand-dollar additional fee was levied, simply for looking into the accident for a customer. The salaries of the individual lawyers did not increase with the new costs, just the profit of the conglomerate. As a lawyer for the conglomerate, I was encouraged to add any and all manner of what my father would call ‘skullduggery’. These additions increased the total of the actual fees to our clients, causing the client a loss from the transaction. I found this type of business very hard to participate in and became quite discouraged.

By the end of my third year with that company, my production had dropped way off, as had most of the original partners. By December of this year I was seriously thinking of quitting that job and going to work in other fields of law.

I wrote home to my father early in the month telling him of my thoughts. Within a week Uncle Rob Wilcox, my father’s brother, called and asked if I would come and work for him in his new company in Tucson. I jumped at the chance, although I was not sure what I would be doing for his company. It took two weeks to complete all necessary items for me to receive due payments on my salary, and to get my final share payment from the original sale.

Between work and sleep I gathered all of my belongings, and began to place, stuff, cram, and just somehow push my worldly belongings into a two-wheeled trailer that I had purchased for my move. Within my 1995 Buick pickup, I placed a full size mattress with bedding, and enough clothing to last me for a week. With that taken care of, I added enough food for three days, should there be trouble on the road.

My mind switched from the move to Tucson, to the pickup I was driving. When I start thinking of my pickup truck, it reminded me of the good days when I first started being a lawyer in Cheyenne. This in turn reminds me of the first job that I had actually completed as a lawyer in Wyoming. I was an associate for my first employer, not yet being paid by the company but allowed to use their name. I could actually determine the payment that a client could pay me for my work. Not totally usual for a company to consider that type of payment, but because of personal friendship between Wanda’s father and the law firm’s owner, privileges abound.

One day a woman, from just down the road, stopped at my house. She stated that she knew that I was a new lawyer, and as such, would I help her? She did not have much money but she would work out a payment with me if I could help. I was skeptical so I checked through the office. The boss agreed that I could proceed.

It turned out the woman had been passing through a construction zone on a small street in Cheyenne, Wyoming. The street was not well blocked, nor had there been adequate warning signs around the construction zone. As the woman sped through the construction area, a backhoe was lifting large chunks of cement sidewalk from the roadside and was placing them into a waiting truck across the road. The backhoe operator had just picked up a large slab of cement when the lady started through the area. The operator did not notice the approaching automobile until the bucket was mid way across the road. Try as he might, he could not stop the swing of the load before hitting the approaching automobile. Although the bucket stopped with only a minimal amount of damage to the car, the block of cement continued to travel. After teetering a couple of times the cement tumbled through the roof and into the back seat of the car and onto a load of groceries that my client had just purchased.

Upon going to court the judge found that both parties were at fault, with the primary fault going to the Construction Company. The Construction Company was ordered to purchase the woman a new automobile and to pay several thousand dollars in penalties for running an unsafe work area. My client was ordered to attend traffic school and was issued a ticket for speeding through the construction zone.

Since the client could not really afford to pay much for my services we settled for the Buick automobile that had been partially damaged, and a year’s house cleaning service for my wife. Our Law firm received a fee from the construction company.

With the help of my father-in-law and a friend at his garage, the back half of the automobile was removed, down to the frame. The front compartment was sealed, and after a search, an S-10 pickup bed was found and placed on the frame of the car. After two years of work on the suspension and the general operation of the truck, my creation became the first Buick pickup in existence. During the third year, I had added a camper to the pickup and had the entire outfit professionally painted. Truly, the pickup was a thing to behold in my eyes.

My mind continued to dance from subject to subject as I drove down the road, again it stopping on my final day in Cheyenne.

By six o’clock on December the twenty-third, I had finished stuffing the trailer with everything I could, and finished off filling the pickup. I said my good-byes the day before to my friends. With mixed emotions, my father-in-law and his beautiful wife Ema came to see me off as I departed for Tucson. I was told that I would always be welcome even if I should marry again. Sometime during my departure Mom silently slipped a note into my pocket, I found it later. I reread the note several times.

You will always be my boy and I will always be the grandmother to your children, should that ever happen. I wanted to cry.

Just after six, I started down Interstate 25 through Denver, Colorado and Pueblo. At Walsenberg I turned west crossing the Continental Divide and Wolf Creek Pass. By the time I passed through Durango, it was time for a late lunch. After that I had intended to continue on to Flagstaff, or maybe beyond, to spend the night before going on to Tucson. But, right now Mother Nature is calling for a stop at Tuba City.

Chapter Two

I was not hungry because of the late lunch. Nevertheless, to stretch my legs and to relieve myself will be a welcome relief. Maybe then, that cup of coffee would be all the help I needed to see me through to Flagstaff.

As I entered town, I spotted a restaurant up ahead. Pulling into the driveway, I found a spot at the rear of the parking lot where I could park, then turn around without backing up. The walk from the back lot to the restaurant will probably help to work out the kinks in my back anyway. I stepped out of my truck and stood for a minute. It only took that quick moment to realize that a coat was in need. I reached into the truck and retrieved my coat and, as I walked toward the restaurant, I pulled it on.

When I first entered the parking lot, everything was quiet and peaceful but as I turned to put on my coat, the quiet turned to chaos. Through the entrance of the lot, a brand new Cadillac El Dorado screamed to the front door of the restaurant and slid to a stop. A tall good-looking woman jumped from the passenger seat and ran into the restaurant, slamming the car door behind her. Slowly a mid-size man climbed from the driver’s seat and yelled at the already departed woman. And hurry up you wench! We haven’t got all night!

Of course, I could not help but hear the outburst from the man, but tried to appear as if I had not. As I passed the car, I looked away as if checking the sky for the approaching storm. Then as I continued, I turned to the man and nodded politely. The man looked directly at me and waved his hand toward the restaurant and shouted again.

Stupid witch! Why can’t women go to the restroom before going anywhere? Or just hold it like us guys do. How can we be expected to get anywhere when we have to stop and piss every few miles?

I didn’t comment to his question but just continued through the front door.

Once inside the restaurant, a chunky but very good-looking Navajo woman stepped up beside me. Just one today, Sir? She smiled.

Yes, thank you, coffee please. But first, where might I find the restrooms? I replied.

The waitress winked at me and pointed at a two-top table next to the window, then turning she pointed to the back corner of the restaurant.

One pot of coffee coming right up, Sweetheart, and the necessary rooms are to the rear at the left. Can I get anything else for you? She continued to beam.

Not at this moment, I answered. But I do like your smile. What would it cost for a to-go-bag with that in it? I winked back.

Just let me get my coat and it will be free. She laughed as she turned away.

As I neared the restrooms, the woman from the Cadillac burst from the ladies room and bumped into me. Without as much as a word, she continued to rush on as if going to the proverbial fire. Just inside the front door she stopped dead in her tracks and looked around at no one in particular. With a quick shake of her head she seemed to change her mind and her complete outlook on life. Ignoring the door and the man waiting outside, she walked directly to one of the empty tables and sat down.

The waitress, having seen the woman’s collision with me, shrugged at me as if apologizing for the lady’s action. Gathering a menu from a stack, she then walked over to the table and handed it to the lady. When I returned to my table the woman was sitting drinking a cup of coffee and staring at the ceiling above. The driver had not as yet come in.

I took my time, purposely waiting to see what the driver might do. I sat for over ten minutes drinking my coffee and watching the woman out of the corner of my eye. For the first time I realized that the woman was dressed in a cocoa brown colored western suit. The suit was a tailored affair that I felt must have come from one of the more expensive shops on Rodeo Drive in Hollywood. The style of the suit complemented her very nicely and the brown colored boots were a positive accent.

I waited for as long as I thought I could but nothing appeared to be happening with her driver. The sky was becoming very blustery and the rapidly approaching clouds now hid the sun. If I were to make it to Flagstaff that night I would have to be on my way.

I was heading to the cash register to pay my bill as the driver of the Cadillac finally pushed through the front doors and looked around. To