Death in the Desert Read Online Free

back, rather than in the front, where he’d have a window overlooking the street.
    When they got inside, Clint saw that it was a very large office. It had to be, to fit the large teakwood desk.
    â€œOh my,” Emily said, looking around.
    â€œEmily, you have a seat while I look around.”
    â€œAll right.”
    She got up into one of the wooden chairs that faced the mayor’s desk. Clint got behind the desk and sat down. There were some papers strewn across the top of it. He went through them, but there was nothing to tell him where the townspeople had gone. He started going through the drawers and Emily covered her mouth with her hands.
    â€œWhat?” he asked.
    â€œYou’re going through the mayor’s drawers,” she whispered.
    â€œWell,” he said, “the mayor’s not here, so I think we’re all right.”
    â€œOkay,” she whispered.
    He continued to go through the drawers, scanning papers, but there was nothing helpful.
    â€œOkay,” he said, sitting back. “I think we’re finished here.”
    â€œWhat do we do now?”
    â€œWe’re going to the telegraph office.”
    â€œOh, good,” she said. “I like that place.” She got down from the chair. “I like the clackety-clack that the key makes.”
    â€œThe key?”
    â€œThe telegraph key,” she told him. “Didn’t you know it was called that?”
    â€œWell, yes, I did know that,” he said. “Come on. Let’s go.”
    He took her hand and they left the office, and the building.
    â€œWhich way is the telegraph office, Emily?” he asked.
    â€œThat way,” she said, pointing. “A few blocks. Can I ride Eclipse?”
    â€œOf course.”
    He lifted her up into the saddle and then they walked to the telegraph office.
    â€œDo you want to come inside?” he asked.
    â€œYes,” she said. “Clackety-clack.”
    â€œClackety-clack,” he repeated, and lifted her down.
    They walked inside the office, which looked as if it had been ransacked. There were yellow pieces of paper all over the floor, and desk.
    â€œI don’t hear the key,” she complained.
    â€œNo, neither do I.”
    He walked around behind the desk to examine the key. It was quiet, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t working. He didn’t know how to use to, though. He touched it, depressed it a few times, just eliciting a short clackety-clack for Emily, but he didn’t know if anyone at the other end had heard it.
    â€œCan you make it work?”
    â€œNo,” he said. “I don’t know how.”
    â€œOh.” She was obviously disappointed. Then she brightened. “Can I do it?”
    She climbed on a chair and began to play with the key, making it go clackety-clackety-clackety. Clint wondered if anyone out there would hear it and send someone to investigate. Or if the key operator had sent any messages concerning the disease. Or had he died before he could?
    He looked around at the yellow slips, but there were no telegrams that would help him.
    He watched as Emily happily played with the key. He took a seat, decided to let her play with it to her heart’s content, until she grew tired, while he tried to figure out their next move.
•   •   •
    She spent a good half hour playing with the key. He sat in the chair with his chin in his hand, drifting off, until suddenly the chatter of the key stopped. When he opened his eyes, he saw her sitting there, staring at him, looking terrified.
    â€œHey, honey, what is it? What’s wrong?”
    â€œI—I thought you was dead, Clint.”
    â€œNo, sweetie, no,” he said, “I was just resting. Come here.”
    She came to him and he hugged her tightly, her little arms wrapped around his neck.

EIGHT
    As they left the telegraph office, Clint asked, “Emily, have you been sleeping in your own