He only had to wait for the camp to settle down, go to sleep, except for the men on watch. He could take care of them, and then Sarah would be his.
* * *
Caves.
Why were there always caves near water?
The ground was far too hard for tracks. If the wolf had gone into the caves, there was no indication of it. The only way to find out would be to go inside.
It was dark out, but it was even darker inside the caves. Clint had two choices. Go in and look, or wait outside and see if it came out.
Waiting had never been his style. He felt in his pockets until he came across a few lucifer matches. Always liked to carry some in case someone ever offered him a really good cigar. He started looking around for a stout branch to make a torch out of.
* * *
Sarah stared into the fire, unaware of what it was doing to her night vision. Even if something came rushing at her from out of the shadows, it would take a few seconds for her to see it. She’d never even have a chance to fire at it.
“Sarah.”
She looked up, squinted.
“Stop staring into the fire like that, girl,” Gerhardt said.
“Do you think they are all right, Mr. Gerhardt?” she asked. “Still alive?”
“I am sure they are, girl,” Gerhardt said. “I am sure they are.”
* * *
Talbot stared at his daughter, knowing she was worried about him, but he couldn’t bring himself to walk into the camp. Not while the killer was still out there. He had to wait.
Just wait.
* * *
Clint fashioned a torch from a thick tree branch with some vines wrapped around the end. It wouldn’t burn long, but maybe long enough. He lit a match, held it to the end, and watched it catch and flare up. There was no time to waste. He had to go into the cave.
He drew his gun, held the torch out in front of him, and entered.
FORTY-SIX
Clint moved into the cave, and as soon as he did, he knew he was right. The wolf was inside. He could feel it. He could hear it breathing.
“I can hear you,” he said. “I don’t know if you’re some werewolf creature who came here from Romania, or if you’re just some freak of nature from right here in the U.S., but you’re not going to kill anybody else.”
The creature continued to breathe, and Clint thought he could even feel and smell the animal’s hot breath.
“Only one of us is going to leave this cave alive.”
His torch began to flicker. He hurried to the mouth of the cave, grabbed some scrub brush from nearby, and took it into the cave. He piled it on the floor and lit it. As it flared up, his torch went out. Now there was a fire on the floor of the cave, between the wolf and the mouth of the cave.
He went out, got some more wood for the fire, and built it up higher. Then he sat down by it, with his gun in his hand.
“This is your only way out,” he said aloud, “and you’ve got to get by me.”
Then he thought, I hope this is the only way out.
* * *
Under normal circumstances, Frederick Talbot had the patience of a saint when hunting devils. Tonight he was growing impatient. The killer had to make a move tonight. Talbot wanted him dead—he did not want to cross the river and leave the killer behind to kill again, and he didn’t want to travel anymore while looking over his shoulder.
He left his hiding place and moved closer to camp. His wagon was still first in line, so he made for it. Without being seen, he slipped into the back of it. He’d keep watch from here. His hand was beginning to cramp around his gun, but he insisted on keeping the weapon at the ready.
From where he was, he could see Sarah sitting at the fire. Gerhardt was keeping watch, and had walked to the other end of the train.
Suddenly, a figure stepped out of the dark, into the light of the fire.
And Talbot knew him!
* * *
“Hello, Sarah.”
Sarah turned quickly at the sound of her name. No longer staring into the fire, she saw the man and immediately recognized him.
“Vlad?” she said. “W-What are you doing here? What are you doing in America?”
The young man walked to the fire. His hair was long, hanging past his shoulders, and it was matted with dirt and leaves and twigs. He looked like something that lived in the woods.
“I came here for you,” he said. “I love you.”
“But . . . but we left you behind.”
“I followed,” he said. “I took another boat. I have been following along.”
“Vlad!”
Now it was the young man who turned at the sound of his name. He saw Talbot standing there with his gun.
“It has been you all along,” Talbot said. “You are the killer.”
“It is hard to argue with one’s nature, Mr. Talbot,” Vlad said. “But I will stop killing if Sarah comes with me.”
“Sarah will never go with you,” Talbot said. He pointed the gun right at Vlad.
“You?” Sarah asked. “It has been you all along?”
Vlad ignored her. His attention was on Talbot.
“Your gun will only kill me if you have silver bullets, Talbot,” he said with a grin. “Do you?”
“I do.”
“And if you can pull the trigger before I get to you,” Vlad said. “Before I change.”
With a snarl, Vlad charged toward Talbot, who pulled the trigger twice. The bullets struck the lad, stopping him in his tracks, and then dropping him.
Sarah ran to him, and Talbot walked and looked down. Lying on his back, leaking from two wounds, Vlad Kozlov looked at his hands and said, “I . . . did not . . . change.”
And died.
* * *
In the cave the wolf suddenly howled. Clint jumped to his feet. It was as if the wolf suddenly felt pain. And then there it was, rising up out of the dark into the light of the fire, coming at him. It was the biggest wolf he’d ever seen, drool dripping from its muzzle as it charged him.
He fired, pulling the trigger six times, all six bullets striking their target. The wolf launched itself in the air at him, but by the time it came down, it was dead. It landed on the fire at his feet, but instead of the large body putting the flames out, the fur caught fire. Clint grabbed one of the great beast’s legs and tried to pull it from the flames, but he couldn’t budge it. Before long the entire beast was alight, and the cave smelled of burning flesh. Clint backed out of the cave and could only watch as the remarkable animal burned to a crisp.
Who would believe him?
* * *
By the time Clint entered the camp, the body had been rolled up in a blanket.
“You got him,” he said.
“Yes,” Talbot said. “And the wolf?”
“Didn’t even need a silver bullet,” Clint said. “Anybody know how he controlled the wolf?”
“We did not have the chance to ask,” Talbot said.
“But you know who he was, right?”
“Yes.”
“Well,” Clint said, “let’s have some coffee. You tell me your story, and I’ll tell you mine.”
Watch for
STANDOFF IN SANTA FE
382nd novel in the exciting GUNSMITH
series from Jove
Coming in October!
Blood Trail Page 12
