Blood Trail

by J. R. Roberts

  “Where are you, little lady?” Wilkins said in a low voice.

  “Come on, sweetie,” Luther said, “don’t hide.”

  “I am right here,” she said, flattening herself against the wall.

  She felt one of the men go past her. There were shafts of light from the front and back of the building, but suddenly the light from the rear was blocked out.

  Something else had entered the alley.

  Sarah was suddenly frightened. This might not have been such a good idea, after all.

  “Come on, darlin’,” Wilkins said. He reached out and encountered her arm. His hand closed over it.

  “Let go!” she said, suddenly panicked and anxious to get out. She could hear the heavy breathing, and feel the hot, fetid breath.

  “Come on, honey,” Wilkins said, “don’t play no games with us.”

  “Let go! Let go!” she shouted at him. “It’s here, don’t you see it? Don’t you feel it?”

  “What are you talkin’ about?” Wilkins asked. “Hey, Luther, where are—”

  “What the hell—” Luther suddenly said, and then he was screaming.

  And Sarah screamed . . .

  * * *

  Clint heard the first and the second screams, even from down the block. He turned quickly, but couldn’t see anything. Other people on the street were looking around, and then somebody shouted, “In the alley!”

  Clint ran back toward that voice, and yelled, “Which alley?”

  “There, next to the saloon.”

  Clint saw it, and ran toward it just as the man staggered out. At least, he thought it was a man. The figure was covered with blood. One arm was dangling from his shoulder by a string. The eyes staring out from beneath a mask of blood were wide with shock.

  And then there was another bloodcurdling scream from inside the alley.

  Clint drew his gun and raced into the darkness.

  * * *

  Frederick Talbot heard the third scream as it echoed through the streets. He drew his silver bullet pistol from his belt and started running.

  FORTY-TWO

  The alley was totally dark. And totally silent, except for the harsh, labored breathing of somebody.

  “Sarah?”

  After a few seconds she said in a whisper, “Clint? Is that you?”

  “Where are you?”

  “Here.”

  He reached his hand out, encountered her hand as she also reached out. She grabbed his hand and pulled him close.

  “Are you all right?” he asked.

  “Y-Yes,” she said, “b-but it was here. The men . . .”

  “I saw a man,” Clint said, “he’s lying in the street.”

  “There was another man. H-He’s still in here.”

  Clint didn’t know if she was referring to the man, or what killed them.

  “Stay here,” he told her. “Roll yourself up into a small ball and wait. Don’t move.”

  “A-All right.”

  He moved deeper into the alley.

  * * *

  Talbot came running up on the scene as people gathered in front of the alley. On the ground was the bloody mass of a man. It wasn’t hard to figure out what had killed him.

  “Where are they?” Talbot asked.

  “In the alley,” somebody said.

  Another voice said, “Don’t go in there.”

  “There’s already a man with a gun in there.”

  Talbot ignored the crowd and entered the darkness of the alley, hoping that the “man with a gun” was Clint Adams.

  * * *

  Sarah had her arms wrapped around her knees, and her knees drawn up to her chest, making herself as small as she possibly could.

  “Clint?” she heard a man’s voice call.

  “Papa?” she said.

  “Sarah,” Talbot said. “Where are you?”

  “Here, Papa, here,” she said. “Right here.”

  He found her and put his arms around her.

  “Are you all right?”

  “Yes, Papa, but Clint . . . he’s here.”

  “He can take care of himself,” Talbot said. “I am going to get you out of here. Come on.”

  He pulled her to her feet and walked her out of the alley. She squinted against the sun, then saw the man on the ground surrounded by a crowd. She could not tell from looking at him whether it was Wilkins or Luther.

  “Stay with these people,” Talbot told her. “I am going back in.”

  “Be careful, Papa!”

  * * *

  Clint almost tripped over the second man. The toe of his boot struck the body, and he crouched down to feel. His hand came away warm with blood. The man was undoubtedly dead.

  Up ahead of him he saw the other end of the alley, with a shaft of sunlight coming through. Cautiously, his gun held out ahead of him, he moved toward it. As he reached the shaft of light, he looked down and saw the tracks. Animal tracks. Wolf tracks.

  The wolf had come into town, after all. That was unusual behavior for a wolf. A normal wolf.

  He followed the tracks out of the alley, around behind the saloon. There he saw not only wolf tracks, but the footprints of a man.

  He heard someone behind him, turned, and saw Talbot step into the light.

  “Sarah?” Clint asked.

  “She is fine,” Talbot said. “I took her out of the alley.”

  “Good. Look here.”

  “See,” Talbot said. “Two sets of prints.”

  “The man is wearing boots this time,” Clint said.

  “Both sets of prints lay over all the others back here,” Talbot said.

  “So they’re together,” Clint said. “A man and a wolf?”

  “That is what it looks like,” Talbot admitted.

  “But you still don’t buy it, huh?” Clint asked.

  “As with you,” Talbot said, “I shall keep an open mind.”

  Well, Clint thought, at least that was something.

  “We need to follow these tracks,” Talbot said. “This is the first attack in full daylight, and we have time to track them.”

  “What about Sarah?”

  “We will make sure she is safe, and then begin tracking,” Talbot said.

  “Agreed.”

  They retraced their steps back through the alley, came out into the sun with the crowd around them. Sarah was there, looking worried. She rushed into Talbot’s arms.

  “Does someone want to tell me what’s going on?” Sheriff Reverend Jasper asked.

  FORTY-THREE

  The sheriff wouldn’t listen to the story on the street. He insisted that Clint, Talbot, and Sarah accompany him to his office.

  “Sheriff,” Talbot said, “there are tracks behind the saloon that we must follow. I would ask that you have someone safeguard them.”

  “You are not in a position to make any demands, sir,” Jasper said. “No decisions will be made until we have talked in my office.”

  And so they followed him to the office, where Talbot and Sarah sat and Clint remained standing as the sheriff/reverend sat behind his desk.

  “Now, let’s start with the young lady. Would you like anything? Water? Tea?”

  “No, thank you,” she said meekly.

  “Then perhaps you can tell me what you were doing in that alley?”

  “Th-Those two men,” she said, “they forced me into the alley.”

  “One of them is unrecognizable,” Jasper said, “but the other is a man named Wilkins, so I’m inclined to believe the first man is Luther.”

  “What does that mean?” Talbot asked.

  “They were good boys,” Jasper said. “They got into trouble, yes, but I cannot see them forcing a young girl into a dark alley.”

  “Are you calling my daughter
a liar?” Talbot asked.

  “Not at all,” Jasper said, “I’m just telling you what I know of those two boys.”

  “Men,” Talbot said, “they were men, not boys.”

  “Very well,” Jasper said. “Let us agree they were young men.” He turned his attention back to Sarah. “What happened after you went into the alley with the two young men?”

  “After she was taken into that alley,” Talbot insisted.

  Jasper simply held up a hand to him to be silent.

  “It was dark,” she said. “I managed to slip away from them and press myself against the wall. They started looking for me. One of them passed me, but the other one grabbed my arm. Then . . . something happened.”

  “What, exactly?”

  “The first man screamed,” she said. “Something was in the alley with us.”

  “Something?”

  “An animal, I think.”

  “What kind of animal?”

  “It was dark,” she said. “I could only feel its presence, and feel its breath. It was hot, and it smelled . . . awful.”

  “Sounds like a wolf,” Jasper said, “but why would a wolf come into town?”

  “Maybe,” Clint said, “he was starving.”

  “There is a lot of game out there for a wolf,” Jasper said. “I can’t understand why one would risk coming into a heavily populated town.”

  “Maybe it was not a wolf,” Talbot said.

  “Then what?” Jasper asked. “A cat? The question would be the same. Why would a big cat come into town?”

  “Perhaps the animal, what it is, has a taste for human flesh,” Talbot said.

  Jasper looked at Clint.

  “Wolves and cats have been known to crave it once they’ve tasted it,” he offered.

  “Perhaps,” Jasper said. “Miss, I’m glad you weren’t injured in the attack.”

  “Thank you.”

  “You gentlemen may go,” Jasper said. “The crowd told me that neither of you entered that alley until after the screaming started.”

  Talbot stood up, reached out a hand to help Sarah. Jasper stood, ever the gentleman.

  “Miss, if you feel the need to talk to someone about your ordeal—”

  “Why would she want to talk to a sheriff?” Talbot asked.

  “The sheriff is also the town’s religious leader,” Clint informed him.

  “I am Reverend Jasper,” Jasper said. He looked at Sarah again. “If you need to talk, please come to me.”

  “Thank you,” Sarah said.

  Clint opened the office door and allowed Sarah and Talbot to precede him.

  “Whatever this was,” he said, “cat or wolf, what do you intend to do about it?”

  “What can I do?” Jasper asked. “I am not a hunter. Do you want me to form a posse to chase an animal?”

  “It’s been known to happen.”

  “I will have to give the matter some deep thought, then,” Jasper said.

  “Well, you do that,” Clint said. “Talbot and I will go after it.”

  “That’s your right,” Jasper said, “as long as you do not break the law.”

  “Thanks for your permission,” Clint said, and left.

  FORTY-FOUR

  Clint and Talbot found Gerhardt with some of the other men in a saloon and pulled them out. They told them what had happened.

  “Gather up the rest of our people and get them back to the wagons,” Clint said. “Take Sarah with you, and watch out for her.”

  “What are you going to do?” Gerhardt asked.

  “We are going to hunt it, and kill it,” Talbot said. “We have plenty of daylight left.”

  “But Papa,” Sarah said, “you don’t have your kit.”

  “I have this,” he said, touching the pistol in his belt. “That is all I need.”

  “Please be careful,” she said. “Both of you.”

  “We will,” Talbot said. He put his hand on her shoulder, and then gave her a little push toward Gerhardt. “Now go.”

  “God be with you,” Gerhardt said.

  Clint and Talbot watched them disperse to go and look for the rest of the group. Sarah remained with Gerhardt.

  “Are you ready?” Talbot asked.

  “I’m ready,” Clint said. “Let’s do it this time.”

  * * *

  They made their way to the back of the saloon without going through the dark alley.

  “Nobody’s been back here since,” Clint said, looking at the tracks. “They still lay over all the others.”

  “This way,” Talbot said.

  The tracks continued along the backs of the buildings on Council Bluff’s main street, then veered and headed out of town to the north.

  “It did not go in among the population,” Talbot said.

  “Well,” Clint said, “these are the tracks leading out. We don’t know what direction it came in from.”

  “That is true,” Talbot said.

  They followed the tracks up a hill, where they disappeared—to Clint’s eye—into some brush.

  “Okay,” Clint said, “now it’s up to you. I’ll just follow and watch your back.”

  Talbot took the silver bullet gun from his belt for the first time and said, “This time we will find it.”

  Talbot’s hunter’s eyes picked up the trail and led Clint into the brush. Clint was very alert as they got farther away from town and it became eerily quiet. There were no sounds from birds or any other wild life. That usually meant there was a predator around.

  “It is quiet,” Talbot said.

  “I noticed.”

  “I still have two tracks,” Talbot said.

  “So it is a man with a wolf.”

  “Or a man with a werewolf.”

  “Well,” Clint said, “since your gun has silver bullets, I guess we’re covered both ways.”

  They fell silent then, and moved on.

  * * *

  The members of the train came drifting back in, wondering what was going on. Sarah had built a fire and was sitting by it, holding a rifle. If her father was right about a werewolf, the rifle would do her no good, but somehow it made her feel safer. She felt badly for lying about the two dead men, but she couldn’t tell the truth about what happened. Certainly not in front of Clint and her father. She was going to have to maintain the integrity of the lie as long as she could.

  Gerhardt came over to her, also carrying a rifle.

  “We are telling everyone what happened,” he told her. “Everyone will be on the alert from now on.”

  “I hope they’re all right,” she said.

  “Your papa and Clint will kill the beast, if it is possible to kill it.”

  “Do you think it will come here?” she asked.

  Gerhardt’s face went pale. His hands tightened on his rifle. “I hope not,” he said.

  * * *

  It was starting to get dark.

  Their perceived advantage of daylight was fading.

  Talbot kept his eyes to the ground. Clint didn’t even know if the man noticed that it was dusk.

  “Frederick.”

  “Hmm?”

  “It’s getting dark.”

  Talbot looked up.

  “So it is.”

  “What have we got?” Clint asked.

  “Wait.”

  Talbot went down to one knee, moved some of the ground brush so he could see better, then stood up and turned to Clint.

  “We have to split up,” he said. “The tracks have gone in two separate directions.”

  “Well,” Clint said, “if we have to, we have to. Do you want the man, or the wolf?”

  “The man.”

  “Why?”

  “If I am right,” Talbot said, “the man can turn into a wolf. If
you are right, then the wolf is just a wolf. You have killed wolves before.”

  “I have.”

  “And you do not have silver bullets.”

  “I don’t.”

  “So . . .”

  “I’ll take the wolf,” Clint said.

  FORTY-FIVE

  At first Clint had to rely on Talbot’s directions on which way the wolf had gone. But eventually he managed to pick the animal’s tracks up and follow them.

  The animal was leading him into an area much denser with brush and trees. The paw tracks were huge, but Clint knew he had drawn blood before. He just hoped his pistol would be large enough to do the job. He would have felt much more confident with a Sharps rifle.

  But a well-placed shot did the job, no matter what the weapon was.

  * * *

  Talbot followed the man’s tracks and quickly realized where he was going. He was circling, not to go back to town, but to go to the wagon camp.

  He was going after Sarah. That was who he was after in that alley, not the two men. And perhaps it was who he had been after this whole time.

  The question was why?

  * * *

  The tracks led Clint to some bluffs near the river, which was running strong. Crossing was going to be rough, but he couldn’t think about that now. The tracks led right to the base of the bluffs. They didn’t turn around, and they didn’t run along the base. He had no choice but to go up.

  He holstered his gun so he could use both hands.

  * * *

  Talbot could see the lights of the camp up ahead. The boot tracks led directly there. He was about to come out of the brush and enter camp when he thought better of it. If he went into the camp, the killer might change his mind. If he stayed hidden, he might actually get a chance to finish this.

  He found a good position in the brush where he had a clear view of the camp. He could see Sarah sitting by the fire, holding a rifle, with Gerhardt nearby.

  He settled in to wait.

  * * *

  The killer stared into the camp at the girl. It had been a long time since he’d been near her. Tonight was the night. She would either come with him willingly, or he would take her by force and feed her to the wolf.