Clay Nash 3 by Brett Waring

Author:Brett Waring
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: piccadilly publishing, keith hetherington, brett waring, american outlaws and lawmen, american west pulp fiction, australian cleveland western, clay nash, old west range detectives
Publisher: Piccadilly Publishing

Six – Left for Dead

The elderly clerk in the cage of the ticket booth on the Yuma railroad siding scratched his head under the green eyeshade he wore and squinted out into the darkness at the vague shapes of the two men who stood there.

“About a week ago, you say?” he asked.

“That’s what I said,” growled Dakota Haines, moving forward to lean a forearm on the counter of the booth. His sawn-off clunked against the booth and the clerk’s eyes widened as he saw the deadly weapon.

Clay Nash stood silently behind Haines as the clerk swallowed audibly and his seamed face took on an intense look as he cast his memory back.

“Lot of faces pass by this window in the course of a week,” he complained.

“Hell, man, she was a Chinese!” snapped Haines. “How many of them you sell tickets to?”

“Aw, yeah! Yeah, I recollect. Face like a little china doll. Big hat, though, didn’t realize at first she was Chinese ”

“Where’d she go?” Haines cut in impatiently.

“Eh? ... Lessee now ... Chinese gal ... week ago. I got it! Tombstone! She bought a ticket to Tombstone.”

Nash pushed forward, frowning. “You sure, old-timer?” he asked.

“Yep, I’m sure. Tombstone. First class ticket.”

Haines turned to look at Nash. “We’ll—”

“Don’t tell me he was in Tombstone all along!”

Nash looked dubious and glanced back at the clerk. “There are several stops along the way. Any place she could’ve gotten off and changed trains?”

“Well, yeah, I guess so. Dunno where she’d go, though. Only spur tracks that lead off to no place in particular. Freightin’ tracks mainly.”

“He might’ve arranged to meet her at the end of one of them,” Haines said, thoughtfully.

But Nash shook his head. “No. Be too noticeable, a Chinese gal travellin’ on a seven-car freight to nowhere. Besides, none of those places would be much of a hideout for a man as notorious as Christian.”

The clerk stiffened at mention of the outlaw’s name and showed new interest. “You fellers after Clint Christian? You think that gal was on her way to meet him? Hell, reckon I might get me a share of that reward if somethin’ I said helped you nail him?”

“You’d have to say a hell of a lot more than you’ve told us so far,” Dakota Haines pointed out.

The clerk looked disappointed. “Well, I guess so. Too bad I can’t help you. All you can do is ask along the line at each stop if a Chinese gal got off. But half the time there ain’t no one there at them whistle stops and folk drop off without anyone noticin’. Hey! You reckon mebbe buyin’ the ticket to Tombstone was a blind deal? That she did it just to throw you fellers off?” Nash showed interest in that. “Could be, mister! You could have somethin’ there!”

“Mebbe,” said Haines doubtfully. “But where the hell would she go if she didn’t take the train? We know damn well Christian ain’t holed-up here in Yuma, so she had to go someplace else.”

“There’s the weekly stage to Buckhorn Flats,” the elderly clerk said helpfully.

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