Pariah (11 page)

When he tried to get a read on Mary, Clint came up empty. Sometimes the other woman spoke about Maddy as if she was an enemy, and other times she seemed to truly miss her. Looking down upon the grave, however, Clint had to admit it was too late to worry over what Mary thought about the subject.

From what Clint had heard about China Mary, damn near anything was possible. Just about everyone in Tombstone knew that she was the one to talk to if you had to satisfy any need in Hop Town. Mary ran the whores, the gambling, and the drug trade in that part of town. If you needed anything else after walking past Third and Toughnut streets, Mary could get it for you.

Opinions differed on how Mary ran her businesses. Some said she was as hard as she needed to be, while others called her a small-time dictator. Like anyone else who worked in those kinds of trades, she had gunmen and leg breakers on her payroll right along with the working girls and attendants at her opium den. Some said those gunmen were merely for protection, while others claimed that China Mary had ordered the deaths of anyone who stood in her way.

Having been on the receiving end of plenty of nasty rumors, Clint knew to take them all with a grain of salt. Looking into Mary's eyes and hearing the razor edge in her voice, Clint found it easy to see where some of the nastier rumors about the little woman had come from.

“How'd she die?” Clint asked.

Mary looked at him with one subtly raised eyebrow.

Tired of going back and forth with the Chinese woman, Clint snapped, “Tell me!”

“Kyle Morrow killed her. That's all you need to know. That's all you
want
to know.”

“When did this happen?”

“The night after that one—” Seeing the fire in Clint's eyes, Mary started again. “The night after Lylah disappear. He came looking for her, but I didn't know what to tell him. Madeline was there as well. She came to help Lylah and some of the others. I. . . I let some of the youngest ones go with her.” When saying that last part, Mary sounded as if she were confessing a sin.

“I get enough girls that work for me who want to be there,” Mary continued. “Sometimes, I pay to bring them on. But I don't need slaves. That's messy business. Too messy. But I used to be like some of these younger ones. If I get the chance, I let them go with Maddy. There's not much else I can do for them. If they come back to me, though, it's not good. Make me look bad!”

So it seemed Maddy hadn't been a pariah in just her own town. It was also clear she wasn't the only one in Tombstone. “Are there any others still here?”

“What others?”

“Others like her,” he said while pointing at Lylah. “Others who need somewhere else to go.”

Mary shook her head. “Maddy had been here not too long ago to get a few. I wasn't expecting her to come again so quick. Lylah was the only one who wanted to go, and it cost Maddy's life. I get enough girls who want to work for me. I pay good and keep them fed. Too risky to use the girls that Kyle Morrow sells.”

Considering the law in Tombstone included the Earp brothers, who had occasional help from the likes of Bat Masterson, Mary was dead-on with her assessment. “All right, then,” he said. “Where can I find Kyle Morrow?”

Mary turned away from the grave and said, “I don't know and I don't care. The less I know about him, the better.”

“I want to find him. What can you do for me?”

“Why do you want to find him?” Mary asked. “Because of what he did to Maddy?”

“Isn't that a good enough reason?”

“Kyle Morrow has done worse, and when he is gone, there will be plenty others to step in and keep doing those same things. Perhaps they think of some new things to do to some new people. Even if half the stories about the Gunsmith are true, you cannot find all the men like Kyle Morrow. Nobody can.”

“If I didn't know better, I might think you're trying to keep someone else from being hurt.”

Mary grunted something in Chinese that Clint recognized as not too flattering. Then she told him, “I don't know you. I do know Kyle Morrow. I can deal with him or keep him away if I want. If someone else take his place, I have to start all over again.”

“What if there is no one to take his place?”

“You really believe that?” she asked with a worldly grin.

Grudgingly, Clint admitted, “Maybe not, but this one will only get worse if he thinks he can get away with killing an innocent woman. There might be a protege, but they should be taught that same lesson by watching what happens to Morrow.”

Mary crossed her arms and nodded as if she'd finally decided on what color rug to put in her opium den. “That make sense. I still don't know where to find him, but she does.”

Clint looked over to where Mary had nodded and found Lylah silently staring down at Maddy's grave. “Can you help me figure out what she's saying?”

“I don't think I could make her understand your question, but I do know someone who can.” She shook her head slowly. “You might want to ask around for someone else, though. Mongolians not as friendly as me.”

Apart from what he'd read in a few ancient history books, Clint wasn't too familiar with Mongolians. He could have met a few here and there while traveling from one spot to another, but he didn't keep track of where they lived or who might be able to translate their language. Since Maddy's killer was probably still not too far away, Clint wanted to act fast before the trail got any colder.

According to Mary, the translator he should talk to lived in a camp up in the Whetstone Mountains. That wasn't more than fifteen or twenty miles away, so he figured he could take a bit of time and do some more asking around Tombstone. He was on good terms with the Earp brothers, but they weren't the law in town any longer. There was one man who might just be a bigger help to Clint than any lawman. If anyone was to know the whereabouts of an outlaw like Kyle Morrow, it was a bounty hunter. And in Cochise County, there weren't many bounty hunters who knew their trade better than Eddie Sanchez.

If he was in Tombstone, Eddie could be found in a rented room on the second floor of a rat trap on Fifth Street. When Clint arrived at the run-down little boardinghouse, he asked the redheaded man behind the front desk if Eddie was available.

“Yeah,” the redhead told him as he plastered his eyes onto Lylah. “He's here.”

Before the redhead could drool or reach out to grab her, Clint pulled Lylah closer to him and asked, “Which room is he in?”

“Same as always. If you want yer own room, I got one open.”

“No, thanks.”

As Clint walked toward the stairs, the redhead asked, “You wanna send her my way when you're through?”

Clint stopped and glared at the redhead in a way that made it clear just how far he'd stepped in the wrong direction. Without saying another word, the redhead looked away and found something else to do.

“Don't mind that,” Clint said as he took Lylah with him. She might not have understood what he muttered, but he could tell that she knew what the redhead was after without being told.

Eddie's usual room was at the end of the hall on the second floor, overlooking the street. Before Clint could knock upon the door, it was opened. A full-figured woman with stringy brown hair emerged from the room while adjusting her large breasts within her partially buttoned blouse. She smirked at Clint, sneered at Lylah, and headed for the stairs.

“Hello, Eddie,” Clint said as he stepped inside.

The bounty hunter was a big man with enough hair on his chest and back to create a natural rug. “That you, Adams? You should'a been here earlier. Missed one hell of a performance.”

“From you or the woman who's paid to pretend enjoying being with you?” Clint asked.

“Real damn funny.” Standing up without making a move to retrieve his shirt or even adjust his britches so he wasn't exposing himself to everyone within eyeshot, Eddie asked, “Who's that you got with ya?”

“Nobody you need to worry about, so keep it in your pants.”

“All right, all right. I comprende.”

“You heard me, Eddie. Keep it in your pants.”

Smirking as he reached between his legs, Eddie fitted himself back within his trousers and hitched them up a bit. “What brings you to town? You wanna lose some more money to me by betting on a gut-shot straight draw?”

“Nothing like that. I've got a few questions for you. Have you ever heard of Kyle Morrow?”

“The slaver and kidnapper who sells sweet little ladies to everyone in the Arizona Territories?”

“That's the one.”

“Never heard of him,” Eddie said with a grin that showed a collection of yellowed, crooked teeth that had plenty of gaping holes.

“I want to track him down.”

“That might not be a great idea.”

“Fine,” Clint said. “Then what do you know about a group of Mongolians camped in the Whetstone Mountains?”

“Plenty. I trade with 'em and they cook one hell of a good meal.”

“I want to know how to get there. I can pay for the information.”

Stepping up close to Clint, Eddie draped an arm over his shoulders and pulled him in close. “What's the matter, Adams? You in a rush? It seems like you don't wanna shoot the breeze unless I can give you whatever information you're after.”

“I told you what I'm after and I told you I'd pay for it.”

“So you don't wanna be social no more? You sore about them poker losses?”

“No, Eddie.” Clint sighed. “This room stinks and you stink worse. I've got a killer to hunt down and if I stay around here much longer, that letch downstairs will probably slink up here to try and grope under this woman's skirts.”

The bounty hunter nodded and looked around as if to verify what Clint had said. He stuck his nose near his own armpit, pulled in a breath, and said, “You make a bunch of valid points. Here's another one for ya. Kyle Morrow is worth a whole lot of money. There are rewards for his scalp placed by half a dozen families that are missing women on account of that prick. I ain't about to just hand him over.”

“I thought you didn't know where to find him.”

“I said it wouldn't be a good idea to track him down,” Eddie corrected. “Not on yer own, anyway. It ain't a good idea for me to go on my own, either, which is why I ain't scalped him myself. I ain't one for partners, but you could fit the bill.”

“I didn't come here for a partner,” Clint said.

“So you wanna just hunt down a man like Kyle Morrow? That lady you got with ya must be one hell of a wildcat if she's about to back you up against Morrow and his whole gang.”

“How big is his gang?”

Eddie knew he was gaining ground, just like a wolf knew when there was easy prey nearby. Grinning like a hungry animal, he said, “Big enough to get the drop on you whether you get to Morrow or not. The two of us could do the job, though. If that lady comes along as an extra set of eyes, she could watch our backs to even out the odds more. All she'd have to do is let out a yell when someone's comin' and we could—”

“You talk a lot,” Clint grunted. “If we're to ride together, that's gotta change.”

“So we're partners?”

“Do you know where to find Morrow?”

“I got some ideas,” Eddie replied. When Clint waved him off and turned to leave, the bounty hunter grabbed his arm and quickly added, “I know how his gang works, where they like to hole up, what towns they like to visit, and which whores they fuck when they visit them.”

“You really know all of that?” Clint asked.

Eddie nodded. “I been collecting all I can about Morrow, savin' up for when I was ready to strike out after him. All I been missin' was a few good partners and the location of one of Morrow's camps. Without someplace to start, I'd just be ridin' in circles hoping to cross paths with the son of a bitch.”

“You know which haystack, but still need to pick out the needle, huh?”

Snapping his fingers, Eddie said, “You always were real good with words. You're also the only partner I need to go after Morrow and the men he's got with him. Plus,” he added with a sly flick of his eyebrows, “the more of 'em we can drag in, the bigger the payday when we're through.”

“What else can you tell me about him?”

“Just that he's slippery as an eel and twice as dangerous. That is, the poisonous eels. The dangerous kind. Are eels dangerous?”

“What if I can take you to one of Morrow's camps?” Clint asked. “Would that be enough for you to track him if he's not there when we arrive?”

The smile on the bounty hunter's face might have been filthy, but it was earnest. “If I know what direction they headed from that spot, I could get ahead of them assholes with time to spare.”

Clint studied the bounty hunter, ignoring the way he anxiously shifted from one foot to another like a little boy waiting to get a birthday present. Eddie Sanchez wasn't exactly an upstanding citizen, but he was a damn good tracker and could handle himself in a fight. Anyone who enjoyed sleeping with other men's wives as much as Eddie did had to know how to handle himself.

“What about that camp in the mountains?” Clint asked.

“I know a shortcut. We can be there before supper tomorrow. I'm tellin' you, those fellas can cook good enough to make your head—”

“All right, Eddie, we're partners. Just shut up, get some sleep, and take a bath.”

Eddie saluted Clint, winked at Lylah, and scratched his crotch.