Death in the Desert Read Free Page B

She nodded. “I like that.”
    â€œI’m glad. By the way, these are the best eggs I’ve ever tasted.” It was true, they were the best eggs he’d ever had . . . without meat.
    â€œThank you. I know my daddy likes his eggs with ham or bacon, and sometimes steak, but I just ate the last of the good bacon. Sorry. Like I said, the rest of the meat’s no good anymore.” She wrinkled her nose.
    â€œOh,” she said suddenly, “I forgot the coffee.”
    Coffee? He hadn’t smelled coffee. She left the table and hurried into the kitchen, then came out walking very carefully with a mug of coffee.
    â€œThank you,” he said, accepting the mug. She ran back to the kitchen and returned with a glass of water for herself. She sat back down to eat. Clint wasn’t sure about the water, which was why he’d been drinking beer or whiskey. He sipped the coffee. It was hot, but weak, although that didn’t really matter.
    â€œIt’s very good,” he lied, putting the cup down. “You really are good in the kitchen, aren’t you?”
    â€œMy momma says I am.”
    The child obviously loved her mother and father. How, he wondered, could they have left her behind without knowing for sure that the disease had taken her?
    â€œClint?”
    â€œYes?”
    â€œHow come you and me ain’t dead?”
    â€œWell,” he said, “I guess we’re just able to resist the disease, Emily. But from what you told me, you did get sick, right?”
    â€œOh, yes.”
    â€œBut you didn’t die,” he said. “So I suppose I might still get sick . . .”
    â€œAnd die?”
    â€œMaybe,” he said. “I hope not.”
    â€œCan’t we leave before you get sick?”
    â€œNo, honey,” he said. “First we have to make sure I don’t have the disease. We don’t want to take it with us to another town, do we?”
    â€œI suppose not,” she said, leaning her elbow on the table with her face in her hand. “But when can we leave?”
    â€œSoon,” he said. “I’m still feeling pretty good, so we may be able to leave soon.”
    She brightened. “We have the whole town to ourselves”—and then her expression soured—“but it kind of smells bad.”
    â€œAll those dead people should have been buried,” Clint told her. “The people must have been in a real hurry when they left here.”
    â€œI was in bed,” she said, “but I could hear people shouting outside . . . and then it got quiet.”
    Clint figured if the townspeople left en masse, he should be able to pick up some kind of trail once they got outside of town, depending on how long ago they left.
    â€œWhat should we do after we eat?” she asked.
    â€œI think we’ll look around town some more,” Clint said, “see if we can find some supplies that we’ll need for our ride.”
    â€œClint?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œI’m glad I’m not alone anymore.”
    â€œSo am I, Emily,” he said. “So am I.”

SEVEN
    Before looking for supplies, Clint decided to go to city hall and see if he could find any notes that might indicate where the people had gone. Also the telegraph office.
    City hall was first. Thankfully, they did not come across any more dead bodies.
    â€œI ain’t never been in city hall before,” Emily said, her eyes wide.
    â€œWhy not?” Clint asked.
    â€œWell . . . that’s where the mayor works.” She said it in hushed tones.
    â€œEmily, can you tell me if the mayor got sick?”
    â€œI don’t know,” she said.
    â€œOkay. We’re going to go to his office.”
    Her eyes widened even more. “The mayor’s office?”
    â€œThat’s right.”
    He took her hand and they entered the building. The mayor’s office was on the second floor, in the