Blood Trail by J. R. Roberts

hands of him and Frederick Talbot.
    And maybe he’d put his life into the hands of a crazy man. That remained to be seen, as well.
    * * *
    Frederick Talbot held the reins of his team loosely in his hands. His daughter, Sarah, sat next to him, holding tightly to his arm. She was so glad he was back, and he knew it. He was trying to put her mind at rest for the time being before he and Clint went out again, hunting. He knew that would upset her once more, but he was the only one who had a chance to catch and kill the monster, and he had a better chance with Clint’s help. He just wished Clint had allowed him to make some silver bullets for his gun.
    â€œPapa?”
    â€œYes, Sarah?”
    â€œWhat are you thinking about?”
    â€œJust the new life we’re going to have in Nevada, Sarah,” he lied. “That’s all.”
    * * *
    The killer watched as the wagon train pulled out. There was a new leader, and he was the dangerous one. The killer sensed that. There were only two in this group who were hunters. The rest were just prey.
    His prey.
    * * *
    They traveled the day without incident, and then Clint called them to a halt.
    â€œWe’ll camp here,” he told Gerhardt, and then rode back to tell the others.
    Once they had stopped and secured their stock and their wagons, Clint gathered them together.
    â€œI only want two fires, and I want them close together,” Clint said. “No one is to leave camp alone. Only in twos. And keep your children close.”
    â€œI hear a stream nearby,” one of the women said. “We need water.”
    â€œTwo of the men will go and get it,” Clint said. “Make sure you’re both armed.”
    Everyone agreed. They built two fires and the women started to prepare the meal.
    â€œWho’s going for water?” Clint called out.
    â€œI am,” Mueller said.
    â€œI’ll go with you.”
    That seemed to please Mueller. He picked up two buckets and they started to walk.
    â€œI’ve got to ask you something,” Clint said.
    â€œWhat is that?”
    â€œDo you believe in vampires and werewolves?”
    â€œOf course not . . .”
    â€œWell—”
    â€œBut I am from Germany,” Mueller went on. “Those in our group who are from Romania, they believe wholeheartedly. Especially Talbot.”
    â€œWhy Talbot?”
    â€œBecause he has hunted them,” Mueller said.
    â€œAnd you believe that?”
    Mueller shrugged. “He says he has not only hunted them, but caught and killed them. Gerhardt supports his stories.”
    â€œBut you have never seen one.”
    â€œNo,” Mueller said, “but that does not mean they do not exist.”
    They reached the stream and Mueller filled the two buckets of water. Clint took one from him and they walked back to camp. He carried the bucket in his left hand, leaving his gun hand free.
    When they reached the camp, Clint went to one of the fires and accepted a cup of coffee from Sarah Talbot.
    â€œDo you believe my father?”
    â€œSarah—”
    â€œI can understand that you have never seen a vampire or a werewolf,” she said, “but he has. He does not lie.”
    â€œI don’t think he’s lying,” Clint said.
    â€œThen you do believe him.”
    â€œI’m willing to follow him, and back him,” Clint said. “I’m not ready yet to decide to believe in those creatures.”
    â€œWell,” she said, “I am very grateful that you are here, and that Captain Parker is not.” She reached out, put her hand on his, and looked into his eyes. “We need you.”
    For a moment, as he stared back at her, he did not see the eyes of a child, but of a woman. In fact, the look she gave him was feverish.
    He started to wonder about Captain Parker, and if he might not have been pulled in by those eyes?
    â€œThank you for the coffee, Sarah,” he