Death in the Desert (5 page)

By lunchtime nobody had returned. They could have been in any part of town, loading up the buckboard that had left the tracks he later found behind the building. Kathy and Emily would be worried about him, and he could always return later to find the looters.

He thought about wiping out his tracks, but the marks he'd leave behind would probably be even more obvious than his footprints. He doubted the looters would come back and notice his tracks in the dirt. He'd come back later, see if they had returned.

Walking back to Kathy's boardinghouse, he wondered how he had missed seeing fresh buckboard tracks around town. Or any sign of the three men. Was it possible they were looting a part of town he simply had not been in yet?

When he got back to the house, he checked the ground in front to see if anyone had been there since he'd left. As long as he was staying with Kathy, they'd have to take some precautions against the looters until he found them.

As he entered the house, he could once again smell what the girls were cooking. It looked like Kathy was serious about using some of the food she'd stocked up since all her boarders left. If she wasn't careful, she'd leave herself short when he and Emily left.

Unless he decided to leave Emily behind. He had told the little girl he wouldn't leave her, but wouldn't she be better off with a woman than with him? And a woman like Kathy, who was used to taking care of people?

Or maybe he could convince Kathy to leave with them, and he could leave both of them in the next town.

“I'm back,” he called out.

There was no answer.

“Emily? Kathy?”

Suddenly, the two girls appeared in the doorway of the kitchen, but there was a man behind them, holding a gun. They both looked too frightened to talk.

The man was taller than Kathy, tall enough to look at Clint over her head.

“Just take it easy and nobody will get hurt,” the man said.

Clint didn't believe him. He knew a man bent on killing when he saw one. But Clint wouldn't kill him until he found out if he was alone.

“What do you want?”

“H-He came in the back door,” Kathy said. “He said he wanted—”

“Shut up!”

“He hurt Kathy, Clint!” Emily yelled.

“Shut up, both of you!” the man shouted. Both girls flinched.

“What do you want?”

“The big one here tells me your name is Jones,” the man said. “Well, okay, Jones—Clint Jones?”

“Yeah, that's right.”

“Put your gun on the floor.”

“Not just yet.”

The man had the gun pointed at Clint from between the two girls. Now he cocked the hammer back.

“Do like I tell you.”

“Are you one of three, or are there more of you?” Clint asked.

“Three?”

“Yeah, I saw the tracks of three of you, over in the stockyards where you've got your loot. Just the three of you?”

“First,” the man said, “you tell me how many of you there are.”

“Just me,” Clint said.

“Why are you here?”

“I was passing through, didn't know about the disease,” Clint said.

“Did you get sick?” the man asked.

“Not yet. You?”

“No,” the man said, “we knew we were immune. That's why we came back.”

Well, that made sense. They left with everyone else, but came back to loot the town.

“Then you know where everyone else went?”

“Sure.”

“Where?”

“Why do you wanna know that?”

“I want to take this little girl to her parents.”

“Her parents?” the man asked. “The ones who left her here to die? Why?”

“Because they're her parents.”

“Never mind.” He waggled the barrel of the gun. “Let's get back to your gun. Drop it.”

“I told you,” Clint said, “I can't.”

“I'll kill one of these bitches.”

“To do that, you'd have to take the gun off me and point it at one of them,” Clint told him. “When you do that, I'll kill you.”

The man laughed.

“You think you're that fast?”

“Lots of people think so,” Clint said. “See, my last name is not really Jones.”

“I didn't think so. What is it?”

“Adams.”

The man froze.

“Clint Adams?”

“That's right.”

He saw by the look in the man's eyes that he was going to pull the trigger. Clint drew. He had only the sliver of space between Kathy and Emily to work with. His bullet went right between them and hit the man in the belly. He grunted, staggered back, and dropped his gun.

“Move!” Clint shouted at the girls.

They did. Kathy went right, and Emily went left. Clint moved into the kitchen to check the body. The man was dead.

“Are you two all right?” he asked, coming back into the dining room.

Emily ran to Clint and wrapped her arms around his waist. Kathy said, “Yeah, we're fine.”

“How long has he been here?” he asked.

“About half an hour,” she said. “He just came in the back door and surprised us.”

“Did he say how many more there were?”

“No,” she said, “but didn't you say there were three?”

“That's all I saw the tracks for.” He ejected the spent shell from his gun, slid in a live one, and holstered it.

“He did say that there was nobody else in town,” she told him. “Just me and Emily.”

“How did he know about me?”

“I—” She turned her head. He remembered what Emily had said about the man hurting her.

“He hurt her, Clint,” Emily said, “and he said he would hurt me if she didn't answer his questions.”

“Okay,” he said. “I get it.” He went to the back door and looked out.

“I didn't see anybody in front,” he said, “so I guess he was here alone.”

“But how did he know about me?”

“He must have been checking the houses around here,” Clint said. “I think they've been looting a certain section of town. They were probably planning on coming here next.”

“What will happen when this man doesn't get back to them?” Kathy asked.

“They'll come looking for him.”

“Two of them?”

“Let's hope it's only two,” he said. “Wait.” He went back into the kitchen and checked the bottom of the dead man's boots. “Damn it!”

“What?”

“He isn't one of the three,” Clint said.

“So there's three out there?”

“Three,” Clint said to her, “or more.”

Clint dragged the body out of the kitchen and all the way to the nearest house. He checked it first to make sure it was empty, then dragged the body inside and put it where it couldn't be seen from a window.

When he came back, Kathy had finished cleaning the blood from the kitchen floor.

“Where's Emily?”

“She's upstairs.” She tossed aside the rag she'd used to clean the floor. “What did you do with . . . him?”

“I gave him to your next-door neighbor.”

“What?”

“I had to get him out of sight.”

“Now what do we do?”

“Well,” Clint said, “I wanted to go and find his partners, but now I don't think I can leave you two alone, so . . .”

“So we'll go with you?”

“No.”

“Then what?”

“I smell food.”

“We made lunch.”

“Then let's eat it and I can think about it.”

“I hope Emily can eat, after seeing that man shot.”

“I hope you can eat.”

“I think so,” she said. “I kind of wanted to shoot him myself.”

“Can you handle a gun?”

“If I have to.”

“That's good to know.”

“Then we can come?”

“No,” Clint said, “but maybe I can leave you with Emily and a gun and you can protect her.”

“But—”

“Why don't I go up and make sure she's all right, and we can have lunch,” he said.

“Okay,” she said. “I'll bring it out to the dining room.”

Clint went upstairs and found Emily sitting on the bed in the front room.

“Is he gone?” she asked.

“Yes, he's gone.”

“Did you kill him?”

“Emily—”

“I hope you killed him,” she said. “He hurt Kathy.”

“He's dead, Emily,” he said, “and yes, I killed him.”

He walked over and sat down on the bed next to her.

“You and Kathy have made a really good lunch,” he said. “Do you want to come down and eat it?”

“Oh yes,” she said, “I'm really hungry.”

“I mean, I hope seeing me shoot that man—”

“Come on, Clint,” she said, bounding off the bed. “Let's go and eat!” She grabbed his hand and tugged him out the door.

They ate lunch—meat loaf with all the vegetables—and the subject of the man with the gun never came up. Over coffee and pie, Kathy and Emily talked about baking cookies later.

Clint thought about the situation, wondered if he dared to leave the two of them alone again—Kathy armed with a rifle—to go and look for the other looters. He wished he'd been able to get more information out of the dead man, but things hadn't worked out that way.

While the girls cleaned up, he took a cup of coffee into the living room and sat down on the couch. There was plenty of the day left, and the other looters might not be expecting to see their partner again until later on. Maybe he could take the chance of leaving Kathy and Emily alone until it started getting dark.

He looked over in the corner, where his rifle leaned against a wall, and wondered if Kathy had any guns of her own in the house.

“Okay,” Clint said as Kathy came out of the kitchen, “I think we can take a chance here. I'm going out and scout around, see if I can find the gunman's friends. You and Emily should be safe here for the rest of the day.”

“What about his friends missing him?” she asked.

“That probably won't happen until later today,” Clint said. “Maybe by then I'll know where they are.”

“Are you going to try and stop them from looting the town?” she asked.

“I don't know,” he said. “If the town has been abandoned, maybe they're not looting, maybe they're salvaging.”

“Is there a difference?”

“Yes,” he said, “salvage is legal.”

“So what will you do?”

“Locate them, find out what they're doing, see if they're a danger to us.”

“Isn't that obvious from what that man did?”

“Maybe it is,” he said. “And maybe I should make contact and let them know we're both a danger to them. We just want to be left alone.”

“Do you think they'll understand that?”

“I don't know,” he said. “I guess that's something I'll have to find out. Do you have a gun in the house?”

“Yes, a Winchester.”

“Good,” he said. “Keep it with you. I'll be back as soon as I can. Try to keep Emily away from the windows.”

“Maybe,” Kathy said, “she and I should keep watch out the windows.”

“If you hear anybody trying to get into the house,” he said, “shoot.”

“What if it's you?”

“I'll let you know if it's me,” he said. “If you don't see or hear me, then shoot first. Understand?”

“I understand.”

“I'm leaving Emily in your hands,” he said. “You've got to keep her safe.”

“And who keeps you safe?” she asked.

“I've been doing that for myself for years,” he said. “Don't worry about me.”

“If you don't mind,” she said, “I'll just worry until you come back.”

“All right,” Clint said. “Let me just explain the situation to Emily before I go. I don't want her charging out of the house after me again.”

“I'll go and get her,” Kathy said, and went into the kitchen.

Clint made his way back to the abandoned stockyards, moving slowly. As he approached the building where the loot was stacked, he heard voices. Instead of trying to get a look inside, he stayed close to the walls as he worked his way around to the other side. He saw a buckboard by the open doors of the building. As he watched, a man came out, grabbed a carton off the back of the buckboard, and went back inside. Before long, another man came out, did the same thing. He continued to watch until he realized three men were unloading the buckboard. But that didn't necessarily mean there were only three men inside the building. Now he needed to get a look.

He went around to the side of the building to a window and peered in. From there he couldn't see anything. He moved to another window, and from there he was able to see what was going on. They were still stacking booty in the center of the room. He counted the men and this time he came to four. They were talking but he couldn't hear what they were saying. Being able to hear them would certainly help, so he went to the front—since they were loading in the back—and approached a small door. He tried the handle, found it unlocked, and opened it. He didn't go inside. With the door opened a crack, he could hear the men.

“Benson is missing,” one of them said.

“Don't worry about Benson,” another man said. “He'll be back later. He's checking out another part of town to see if it's worth looting.”

“Yeah,” a third man said, “meanwhile he gets out of the grunt work of loading and unloading a wagon.”

“We all do our share,” a man said. He seemed to be the leader. At least, he was standing aside and watching the other men unload the wagon, while he was supervising at that moment.

“How much longer we gonna be doin' this?” one man asked.

“Until we're done,” the supervisor said. “There are a lot of us involved in this, Jakes. We need to have enough to make each of our shares worth it.”

“You sure we ain't gonna catch anythin' from this stuff?” another man asked.

“Or just from bein' in this town?”

“Don't worry,” the supervisor said. “The doc says we're all safe.”

“I don't know,” one of the others said. “I ain't been feelin' that good lately.”

“You're imaginin' it,” the supervisor said. “Just don't worry about it. Keep workin'.”

“Yeah, yeah,” the other man said, “we'll keep workin'.”

“I'll be right back,” the supervisor said.

The supervisor was coming out, and Clint didn't know what door he was using, so he closed the door and backed away.

He retreated to some outside stalls, where he could take cover. He was lucky. The door he had been listening at opened and a man stepped out. He was tall, fit, in his forties. He took out some makings, rolled himself a cigarette, and lit it. Then he started to walk . . . stroll, really.

Clint had a choice to make. Stay in hiding, or make a move. Come up behind the man, get the drop on him, and question him. But then what? Let him go, so he could tell the others? Or kill him? Clint wished someone had said the man's name, so he had something to go on. Maybe it would be a name that Kathy knew from town.

The man continued to smoke and walk, then stomped the cigarette out and headed back to the building. Clint had missed the window. He decided to just hang around and see if any other men showed up. Five he might be able to handle—only it was down to four now.

Hopefully.

Clint stayed until it was dusk. The four men did not come out, and no one else went in. He moved closer to see if he could eavesdrop again. He cracked the door and listened.

“Where we gonna eat tonight?” someone asked.

Clint recognized the voice of the supervisor.

“Here,” he said. “Make a fire and we'll cook somethin' up.”

“Can't we go to one of the cafés, cook somethin' up there?” another man asked.

“No,” the boss said, “I wanna wait here for Benson to come back.”

“Where is he anyway?”

“I don't know,” the boss said. “We might have to go out and look for him.”

“If we're gonna do that,” somebody said, “maybe we should do it before it gets dark.”

“Yeah, you're right,” the boss said. “We can eat later. You boys get out there and find him. Maybe he found somebody else in town.”

“We ain't found nobody else in town yet,” one of the other men said. “What do we do if we do?”

“Anybody left in town who's still alive,” the boss said, “has an accident. We don't need any witnesses. This place isn't officially a ghost town yet.”

Clint closed the door, turned, and ran back to the boardinghouse.