Blood Trail by J. R. Roberts Page A

said.
    â€œCome back,” she said. “The food will be ready very soon.”
    Clint walked away and encountered Frederick Talbot, who also had a cup of coffee.
    â€œShe is very frightened,” Talbot said. “And is being very brave.”
    â€œYes,” Clint said, for want of anything else to say. The girl he’d just spoken to did not seem to be very frightened. He was starting to wonder how well Talbot knew his own daughter.
    He looked at Talbot, who had suddenly stood stock-still. Only his eyes were moving.
    â€œDo you feel it?” he asked.
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œWe are being hunted.”
    â€œI’d much rather be the hunter,” Clint said.
    â€œSo would I. Perhaps that is what we should do,” Talbot said.
    â€œWhat are you suggesting?” Clint asked.
    â€œAfter everyone else has retired for the night,” Talbot said, “perhaps you and I should go out and do what we do best—hunt.”
    â€œIn the dark?” Clint asked. “Wouldn’t that be playing right into the hands of the killer?”
    â€œIt would be unexpected,” Talbot said, “and do not worry, I have hunted in the dark before.”
    â€œWell,” Clint said, “I may be agreeing to this, but I hope you don’t mind if I just go ahead and worry a little.”

TWENTY-NINE
    Clint sat at the fire, drinking coffee and waiting for everyone to finally settle in for the night. They had agreed that Gerhardt and Mueller would take the first watch while he and Talbot went out into the dark.
    â€œAre you sure that is wise?” Gerhardt asked.
    â€œI’m going along with your buddy Talbot on this, Mr. Gerhardt,” Clint said. “I’m assuming he knows what he’s doing—unless you tell me different.”
    â€œNo, no,” Gerhardt said, “when it comes to hunting a were—when it comes to hunting, Talbot is an expert.”
    â€œAll right,” Clint said. “I’ll take your word for it.”
    Gerhardt and Mueller came up to the fire now, carrying their rifles.
    â€œWe are ready,” Gerhardt said.
    â€œKeep the whole camp in sight,” Clint said. “But also stay within sight of each other.”
    Both men nodded. Neither of them looked very enthusiastic. Talbot came walking over. Clint noticed his silver bullet gun was tucked into his belt, and he had his canvas bag slung over his shoulder.
    â€œAre you ready?” he asked Clint.
    â€œReady as I’ll ever be, I guess.” Clint dumped the remnants of his coffee into the fire, wiped the cup off with his fingers, and set it down. “Let’s go.”
    â€œGood luck.”
    Talbot looked at his friend intently.
    â€œNo matter what you hear, do not leave this camp,” he told him. “Do you understand?”
    â€œI understand.”
    Talbot looked at Mueller, who said, “Yes.”
    â€œThe lives of these people are in your hands,” Talbot said.
    Both men nodded their understanding.
    As Clint and Talbot got ready to leave the camp, Sarah came running over to them.
    â€œPlease be careful, Papa,” she said.
    â€œI will,” he promised. “You make sure you stay in camp. And near the fire. And stay with Gerhardt.”
    â€œI will.”
    As they started to leave, Sarah grabbed Clint’s arm and said, “Be careful.”
    â€œI’ll watch after him,” he promised.
    â€œAnd yourself,” she said, squeezing his arm.
    He hesitated, nodded, and followed Frederick Talbot into the darkness.
    * * *
    They were coming for him.
    Foolish.
    He reached over and wrapped his fingers in fur. Yellow eyes pierced the darkness with a low growl.
    They would learn . . .
    * * *
    There was a sliver of a moon, not much light, but that didn’t seem to stop Talbot from moving quickly.
    Clint tried to follow and step as surely, but still occasionally tripped on a tree root or rock.
    â€œShhh,”