Free Blood Trail by J. R. Roberts Page A

said, “not now, not in the daylight.”
    â€œWhat do you suggest?” Clint asked.
    â€œThe same thing I suggested last night,” Talbot said. “That the sheriff accompany the wagons while you and I hunt.”
    â€œWell, you’ll have to make that suggestion to the sheriff,” Clint said. “I think he’ll have something to say about that.”
    â€œI shall do so, at breakfast,” Talbot said.
    They turned and walked back to the fire.
    * * *
    â€œI can’t do that,” Sheriff Bullet said.
    â€œWhy not?” Talbot asked.
    They were seated around the fire, eating the bacon and beans Sarah had prepared for their morning meal.
    â€œWell, for one thing,” Bullet said, “I’m the sheriff of my county. Technically, I can’t leave it. Not and have any authority. I need to catch the killer before it gets too far away.”
    â€œBut you’re already out of the county,” Clint pointed out.
    â€œI know the sheriff of this county,” Bullet said. “We’ve worked together before. He’ll vouch for me. But I’m not going to be able to go further.”
    â€œSo what do you suggest?” Clint asked.
    â€œLet Talbot here go with the wagon, and his people,” Bullet said. “You and I can go hunting.”
    â€œBut Talbot’s the hunter,” Clint pointed out, “and the tracker.”
    Bullet considered that for a moment.
    â€œWell . . . you could go with the wagons, while I hunt with Talbot.”
    â€œI would prefer to hunt with Mr. Adams,” Talbot said quietly but firmly.
    â€œWhy?” Bullet asked.
    â€œHe and I are the same.”
    â€œIs that a fact?”
    â€œWe have the same instincts,” Talbot said. “We would keep each other alive.”
    â€œAnd I couldn’t do that?”
    Talbot didn’t answer.
    â€œOkay, but damn it,” Bullet said, “there’s got to be another way.”
    â€œThere is,” Clint said.
    â€œWhat’s that?”
    â€œYou go back to Effingham and resume your job,” Clint told him.
    â€œAnd you?”
    â€œTalbot and I will travel with the wagons,” Clint said. “If it’s true that the killer is following this train, you won’t have any further trouble.”
    â€œBut you will.”
    â€œWhen Talbot and I have taken care of the situation, I’ll telegraph you and let you know that your murder has been solved.”
    â€œThat doesn’t—that doesn’t sound right.”
    â€œBut it’s the only way,” Clint said.
    Sheriff Bullet chewed his food and considered Clint’s words.
    â€œIt makes sense,” Talbot said.
    â€œI know, damn it!” Bullet said. He looked at Clint. “I got you messed up in this. It doesn’t feel right leaving you to handle it.”
    â€œDon’t worry, Ray,” Clint said. “If I wanted out, I’d ride out. Believe me.”
    â€œYes,” Bullet said, “yes, all right. It does seem the only solution. I’ll head back to town after breakfast. But you have to keep me informed and let me know when you catch the killer.”
    â€œI will,” Clint promised.
    â€œAnd,” Bullet said, “you have to tell me what the hell it is!”

TWENTY-SEVEN
    Bullet rode out and headed back to Effingham.
    Clint turned to Talbot, Gerhardt, Mueller, and the other members of the wagon train.
    â€œSo,” he asked, “where are we headed?”
    â€œNevada,” Gerhardt said. “We bought some property there. There is enough for all of us to settle on.”
    â€œYou have paperwork?” Clint asked. He’d known of a lot of Easterners who had bought property in the West, only to find out upon their arrival that they’d been swindled. Either the seller never owned the property, or it was barren land that could not be worked.
    â€œWe do,” Gerhardt said.
    â€œMaybe you’ll let