Ticket to Yuma Read Online Free PDF Page B

for seeing me, Mr. Mayor.”
    Clint turned and headed for the door.
    â€œWould you do me a favor?” the mayor asked.
    â€œSure, why not?”
    â€œSend my secretary in on your way out.”
    â€œSure thing.”
    He stopped at the woman’s desk and said, “He wants to see you now.”
    â€œRight now?” she asked.
    â€œYes,” Clint answered, “that’s what he said, right now.”
    She remained seated behind her desk, staring at him. He realized she wasn’t going to move until he was gone. He entertained the thought of just standing there and seeing if he could outlast her, but in the end he turned and left.

ELEVEN
    As the secretary entered his office, the mayor stared out the window with his hands clasped behind his back.
    â€œYou wanted me, sir?”
    â€œYes,” he replied without turning. “I need you to send a message to the chief of police.”
    â€œOf course, sir.”
    â€œI want him here as soon as possible.”
    â€œBut . . . he was just here this morning, wasn’t he?” she asked.
    He turned and looked at her over his shoulder,.
    â€œDon’t be addled, Margaret,” he said. “Of course he was here. You saw him.”
    â€œYes, sir, I did.”
    â€œI want him here again,” he said, “and as soon as possible. Get that message to him.”
    â€œYes, sir,” she said. “Of course.”
    She turned and left the office. The mayor turned his attention back to the window.
    * * *
    Clint left City Hall and went directly to the telegraph office.
    â€œCan I help ya?” the clerk asked. He was a man in his fifties, very pale from hours spent inside, very thin except for a bulging belly.
    â€œI received a telegram sent from this location,” Clint said. “I’d like to know if you sent it.”
    â€œUm, well, I guess . . . can I see it?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œBut then, how can I tell—”
    â€œIt was a few weeks ago,” Clint said. “The man would have been in his thirties, with blue eyes and a scar here.” Clint touched the spot next to his left eye.
    â€œI don’t . . . that doesn’t sound familiar, sir,” the man said nervously.
    Was everyone in this town a liar? Clint wondered.
    â€œDoes anyone else work here?”
    â€œNo, sir,” the man said. “Only me.”
    â€œI see.” He could have asked if anyone had been working at the telegraph office several weeks ago, but the man would only have lied again.
    â€œOkay, thank you.”
    Clint left the telegraph office, paused just outside. Who was the only person in town who had not lied to him—yet?
    * * *
    Clint walked to Hannah’s Café. There was only one man seated at a table, eating. Ben was nowhere to be seen, but at that moment he came out from the kitchen.
    â€œHey, can’t keep you away from here,” he said.
    â€œI’m not here to eat,” Clint said. “I need to ask you a question.”
    â€œOkay, ask.”
    â€œCan we sit?”
    â€œSure. Want some coffee? No charge.”
    â€œOkay.”
    Clint sat at the same back table he’d occupied at breakfast while Ben went into the kitchen. He returned with coffee and a piece of pie.
    â€œPeach,” he told Clint. “Also no charge.”
    Clint put a hunk into his mouth. It was sweet as sugar, the peaches soft but not mushy.
    â€œIt’s great,” he said, washing it down with coffee.
    â€œWhat was the question?”
    Clint looked around. The lone man was paying attention to his food, and nothing else.
    â€œSo far everyone I’ve talked to in this town has lied to me, except you,” he said to the young man.
    â€œLied about what?”
    â€œHarlan Banks.”
    â€œReally, Clint,” Ben said, “I never met the man.”
    â€œThat’s okay,” Clint said. “I believe you. My question is about