Clint didn’t recognize the bodies at first, but that was mostly because they were stripped down and covered by white sheets as if they were tucked in for the night. Their bodies were perfectly straight and their heads were aligned so their eyes stared straight up into oblivion.
“Their things are in those boxes next to their feet,” George explained. “Take a look through them if you like, but let me know before you take anything.”
“Sure,” Clint said.
The two boxes were right where George had promised, and they’d probably held hats before holding the possessions of dead men. The first box only contained dirty clothes and a satchel full of letters and small bundles. There was also a list of names with locations scribbled next to them. The courier’s pistol was at the bottom of the box.
The second box held more dirty clothes, two guns, and a pouch of tobacco. When Clint searched through the shirt and pants pockets, he only found one thing. Fortunately, it was just the sort of thing he was after.
“Mind if I take this?” Clint asked.
George looked at the small item in Clint’s hand and asked, “That’s it?”
“Yep.”
“Sure,” George said with a shrug.
Clint moved past the squat man and headed for the door. Before he could make it very far, he heard George’s voice.
“You killed that one there?” George asked.
When Clint looked over at him, he saw the squat man pointing at the courier stretched out upon the bottom bunk. “No,” Clint replied.
“Hell of a good shot either way.”
“I suppose. You look busy, so I’ll see myself out.”
George nodded as he walked over to the boxes and took a quick look through them for himself. He seemed satisfied when he glanced back to Clint.
“When you’re done with your work here, stop by Rick’s Place,” Clint told him. “The owner’s a friend of mine and I’m sure he wouldn’t mind buying you a drink or two for helping me out.”
George grinned and nodded enthusiastically. It wasn’t a pretty sight.
NINE
“Damn,” Rick said as Clint walked into the saloon. “Don’t you ever get to sleep?”
“Why?” Clint asked. “What time is it?”
“Time for me to close up and for any respectable man to turn in for the night.”
“Well, I gave up being respectable a long time ago. Also, I sort of lost track of the time.”
“That’s fine,” Rick said. “I thought you might need a reminder. That’s the only reason I haven’t locked up already. Where’ve you been anyway?”
“At the funeral parlor.”
“Christ, you sure know how to spend your nights.”
Now that Hartman had mentioned the late hour, Clint could barely keep his eyes open. It seemed the entire day had rushed upon him at once and now he had to pay the price. “Did Olivia leave?” Clint asked.
“A few minutes ago. I damn near had to carry her out of here.”
“You do mix a potent drink.”
Hartman smirked and replied, “That may have had something to do with it. I made her second drink a bit stronger since she seemed all fired up to wait for you. I know better than to assume you’ll be back at a reasonable hour.”
“I wasn’t gone that long,” Clint said in his own defense. “Anyway, I’m going to bed.”
“Did you find anything at the funeral parlor?”
“Yeah.”
“Are you going to tell me what it is?”
Clint stopped and then removed the small item from his pocket. Holding it out at arm’s length, Clint said, “There it is.”
“What the hell is it?” Hartman asked.
“A note that was in the dead gunman’s pocket. It’s got Olivia’s name and a few locations on it. There’s an address in Dallas as well as the names of a few saloons around here.”
“Mine’s on there?”
“Yep.”
Hartman puffed out his chest and beamed proudly. “Seems like word’s finally spreading about my saloon.”
“Yeah. A few more shootings and a couple big poker games should put you right on the map.”
“You’re always good for plenty of both,” Rick replied without missing a beat.
Clint couldn’t come up with a good response to that. Rather than try to toss another barbed comment back at the Texan, he took another look at the note for himself. “These spots are places that have been holding some pretty good games lately. Any gambler looking to make a name for himself would want to pay them a visit.”
“Or make a name for herself,” Hartman pointed out.
“Exactly. My guess is that those gunmen were definitely out looking for Olivia.”
“Then why shoot the messenger?” Rick asked.
Clint shrugged and tucked the small piece of paper into his pocket. “The kid didn’t know when to duck. That’s gotten plenty of folks killed.”
“I suppose.” Hartman’s eyes narrowed as he studied Clint. “Why don’t you get some sleep? Before you know it, you’ll be wanting to ride off somewhere and you won’t let up until you’re falling from the saddle.”
“Sounds like a good idea.” Clint headed for the stairs that led up to the few rooms available for rent in the saloon. “See you in the morning.” Before he got to the top of the stairs, Clint stopped and said, “Oh, by the way, I promised a few free drinks for the undertaker.”
“You mean that fat fellow?”
“That’s him. He was really helpful.”
“I’m sure he was. He just…gives me the creeps.”
Hartman watched Clint go up the stairs and head for his room, and made certain he was gone before he did anything else. Once he was sure, Hartman stepped out through the front door and walked down the street. He retraced the path Clint had taken moments ago, and quickly found himself at the funeral parlor.
After a few knocks, the squat man with the slack jaw answered the door.
“Hey there,” Hartman said. “There’s one last thing my friend Clint Adams forgot about.”
“I’ve got work to do.”
“It won’t take a moment.” When he saw no reaction from the other man, Hartman added, “It’s worth a bottle of whiskey.”
TEN
The next morning, Clint went over to Olivia’s hotel for breakfast. When he arrived, he found her sitting at a small table by herself with most of her meal still in front of her. Although she seemed surprised at first, that expression quickly gave way to a smile.
“Clint! Come on over and join me,” she said. “Would you like some eggs?”
“That sounds great.”
She pushed her plate toward him and then smiled again.
The leftovers of her meal weren’t exactly what he’d had in mind, but the food was still warm and he was about to pick up her fork when the plate was pulled away from him.
“I swear, men are animals,” she said. “I was only kidding. Order what you like and it’ll go on my bill.”
Clint shrugged, and asked the old woman who served the food for the same thing Olivia had ordered. Once the old waitress shuffled off, Clint turned to Olivia and asked, “How’d you sleep?”
“Not bad.”
“You seem to be taking the news about your uncle pretty well.”
“Yes,” she replied softly. “We weren’t that close, but I always enjoyed visiting him.”
“Do you know of any…”
Seeing him struggle with what he wanted to say, Olivia rubbed his hand and told him, “Go ahead and ask. Losing that bet last night has brought us a bit closer, you know.”
Clint couldn’t help but smirk at the memory of losing the bet. He wore a more serious expression when he asked, “Do you know of anything your uncle might have been involved in?”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know. Just anything out of the ordinary or that could have turned out badly.”
Slowly, Olivia started to nod. “You mean anything that could end up
with a couple gunmen trying to shoot me?”
“Yeah. Something like that.”
“No. Those gunmen might not have known anything about me or my uncle, though.” Stabbing some eggs with her fork, she added, “For all we know, they could have been shooting at you. I imagine a man like you is used to things like that happening.”
Despite the edge in Olivia’s voice, Clint took her words with a grain of salt. He reached into his pocket, took out the piece of paper, and asked, “Where were you planning on staying when in Dallas?”
“Excuse me?”
“Was it the Alhambra?”
Olivia looked stunned. “Yes. How did you know?”
“The real question is how the person who wrote this knew.” With that, Clint showed her the piece of paper.
“What is that?” she asked.
“I found this in the pocket of a dead man.”
After snatching the paper from Clint’s hand, Olivia read it over. “This has my name on it. There’s also the name of just about every place I was planning on going to.”
“One of the men who shot at us yesterday was carrying that. I know you just heard about your uncle and I know you don’t want to think badly about him, but those gunmen weren’t just firing at us by mistake. They were gunning for you or maybe that courier as well.”
Slowly, Olivia shook her head. “No. They were after me. What else could it be? My name is the only one on this paper.”
“Which brings me back to my other question.”
Olivia handed back the paper and sipped her coffee. “I’m sorry I got cross with you. Part of me was already worried about the things you were just talking about, but I was hoping it wasn’t true. Now that I know it’s true, I wish…well…I just wish it wasn’t.”
“Yeah, I imagine it must be sort of odd. You’ve probably got plenty of good memories about your uncle, but those probably don’t go along too well with what you’re hearing now.”
“Actually,” Olivia said with a chuckle, “they fit in pretty well. He was always into something or other. Uncle Abner was the one who first taught me to play poker.”
“Really?”
She nodded. “He used to teach me card games whenever he’d visit. Once I started getting better at them and we began playing for pennies, he wasn’t invited to stop by so often. That was a long time ago.”
“What about your cousin Jenny? She knew where you were. Maybe you should visit her for some answers.”
“I couldn’t,” Olivia replied while shaking her head. “Not after what just happened.”
“Why not?”
“It seems pretty dangerous. You may not believe this, but not everyone looks forward to getting shot at.”
“I know I sure don’t look forward to it.”
“But you know how to live with it. Just thinking that there’s someone else out there who might have my name written on another piece of paper like that sends a chill down my back.”
“Then maybe you shouldn’t go by yourself. Maybe,” Clint added as he leaned back so the waitress could set his plate in front of him, “you should take along someone who is used to that sort of thing.”
“I don’t know anyone who’d be foolish enough to do something like that,” Olivia said as she glanced knowingly toward Clint.
“Oh, don’t try to pull any wool over my eyes,” he grumbled as he scooped some eggs onto his fork. “You would’ve gotten me to take the job whether I’d wanted to or not.”
“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.” Placing her hand on his, Olivia said, “I mean it. There’s already two men dead, so I don’t want to put you in danger as well.”
“Don’t think anything of it. Besides, how can I expect to win our next wager unless I keep you good and close?”
ELEVEN
After breakfast, Clint returned to Rick’s Place. He didn’t see Hartman behind the bar, but that wasn’t such a surprise considering how late Rick had stayed up the night before. Clint packed up his things and headed back down the stairs with his saddlebags over one shoulder. By the time he reached the bottom of the stairs, Clint saw Hartman stepping out from one of the supply rooms.
“There you are,” Rick said. “Sleeping late, I see.”
“For your information, I’ve already washed up and had breakfast.”
“Where are you taking those bags?”
“Over to the stable and then across Eclipse’s back. After that, I’ll be taking them to Dallas.”
“Good. You might also be interested in this.” Hartman held up a satchel and then tossed it across the room.
Clint reached out with one hand and caught the satchel by its strap. Holding it up for a closer look, Clint spotted some familiar markings. “This belonged to that courier.”
“Actually, it belongs to whatever company he works for.”
“Then I’m sure they’ll send someone for it.”
“Just take a look under that flap.”
Setting the satchel on the closest unoccupied table, Clint opened the flap and found a few letters and a delivery log. He flipped through it and found record of three letters addressed to O. McKay.
When he saw that name, Clint flipped through the log a second time. Looking up at Hartman, he asked, “Where’d you find this?”
“The funeral parlor.”
“What made you think to look for it?”
“Just something you said about why someone would want to shoot that courier. It occurred to me that there was only one good reason to shoot a courier and that was for whatever he was carrying.” Hartman crossed the room so he didn’t have to shout. “Don’t feel so bad, Clint. I’m sure you would’ve thought of it if you hadn’t been so tired.”
“So maybe that courier was killed on purpose?”
Hartman shrugged. “All I know is that if he wasn’t, he was standing in the very worst spot at the very worst time. Hell, even that grave digger said it was a nice, clean shot.”
“Yeah, he did.” Clint balled up his fist and resisted the urge to punch a wall. “I should have taken this satchel when I was there.”
“Hey, you can’t think of everything. That’s why they say two heads are better than one.”
“Did you go through the rest of these letters?” Clint asked.
“Yeah, but I didn’t find anything too interesting. You can just drop them off at the company whose mark is on the satchel.”
“You mean I’m supposed to deliver these?”
“Of course,” Hartman replied with a somewhat shocked expression upon his face. “The mail’s gotta be delivered or else the whole system falls apart.”
Clint shook his head, closed up the satchel, and slipped it over his head, even though he secretly had no intention of getting sidetracked by delivering mail. “Any other chores for me to do?”
“Yeah. Next time you need to pay someone off for a favor, don’t give away my whiskey.”
“Take the price of that grave digger’s drinks out of what I won off you in poker. That’s probably the only way I’ll get you to repay me for it anyway.”
“Especially since you cheat like the devil.”
Shaking his head, Clint walked toward the door. “Thanks for the beer and backup,” he said.
“You just be sure and watch yourself, Clint. Things have a nasty habit of turning nasty when you get involved. If you’d like someone to watch your back, I wouldn’t mind a quick ride to Dallas.”
Clint stopped at the front door and turned around to find the big Texan standing with his arms crossed sternly over his chest. “I appreciate the offer, Rick, but you’ve already watched my back plenty. This could just be nothing more than a family dispute.”
“Look me straight in the eye and tell me you believe that.”
Clint looked Hartman in the eye, paused, and then tipped his hat. Without anything more than that, Clint left Rick’s Place.
TWELVE
A couple hours later, Clint and Olivia had left Labyrinth and were headed for Ama
rillo. The open country of West Texas was spread out before them like a multicolored quilt. Overhead, the sky stretched out in all directions with only the stray white cloud to mar the field of blue. Even though they were bound for the train station in Amarillo, seeing the smoke from a steam engine headed in the same direction was more like seeing a dirty smudge upon a fresh painting.
“Maybe we should just ride to Dallas,” Olivia said.
Clint looked over at her and the tan mare she rode. “That’s a fine-looking animal you have, but I doubt it can outrun a train.”
“I’ll bet yours could.”
“Maybe, but not all the way to Dallas. Don’t you want to get there as quickly as we can?”
“Yes,” Olivia said anxiously. “Just the thought of sitting on a train for…who knows how long…just seems like torture.”
“The way you’ve been squirming, you could probably run to Dallas faster than that train.”
“I bet I could!”
“Really?” Clint replied. “Care to make a wager about that?”
Olivia looked over at him and smiled. She held her reins in a loose, comfortable grip and her hips shifted perfectly to match the movements of her horse. With Eclipse staying directly beside her, Olivia and Clint might as well have been strolling along a boardwalk.
“What kind of wager?” she asked.
“Since you’re feeling like running so fast, why don’t we have ourselves a race?”
“You want me to race you to Dallas?”
“How about to those telegraph wires?” Clint replied.
Looking at the trail ahead, Olivia picked out the line of posts that carried the wires in a path that crossed directly in front of them somewhere between half a mile and three quarters of a mile ahead. “All right,” she said. “What’s the wager?”
“Same as before?”
She shook her head. “I already won that one. How about something interesting?”
“That was pretty interesting to me.”
Although Olivia put on the appearance of thinking it over, she actually didn’t have to think very long before she snapped her fingers and said, “You’re right. But let’s say you have to show me something new.”
Dying Wish Page 4