Read Blood Trail for Free Online Page B

can’t you talk about what kind of hunter you were in your country?”
    â€œIt is difficult . . . it would not be understood in your country.”
    â€œSo it’s some kind of animal that exists only in your country?”
    â€œWould that that were the case,” Talbot said.
    â€œSee,” Clint said, “it’s that kind of vagueness that makes people curious. Makes me curious. If we’re going to ride together, trust each other with our lives—and let’s face it, that’s what we’re doing—we need to know something about each other.”
    Talbot thought that over for a moment, then said, “Very well. I will listen.”
    â€œYou want me to talk first?”
    â€œI thought you suggested that.”
    â€œI didn’t,” Clint said, “but all right, I’ll go first. But when I’m done, it’s going to be your turn to talk.”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œYou agree?”
    Talbot hesitated, then said, “Yes.”
    â€œOkay, then . . .”
    * * *
    It didn’t take long to fill Talbot in on his background.
    â€œThen your reputation is as someone who kills,” Talbot summed it up.
    â€œUnfortunately, yes,” Clint said.
    â€œA gunman.”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œAnd you can walk your streets with impunity?” Talbot asked.
    â€œI don’t know about that,” Clint said. “I walk the streets at my own peril.”
    â€œAnd men try to kill you?”
    â€œAll the time.”
    â€œAnd you survive?”
    â€œYes . . . so far.”
    Their plates had been cleared away and they were currently both working on pie and coffee. Talbot apparently found the apple pie he’d ordered to be a very rare delicacy. He savored each bite.
    â€œAll right,” Clint said, pushing his plate away, very little in the way of remnants left of his own peach pie. “It’s your turn. Talk.”
    Talbot hesitated, ate the last bite of his pie, and pushed his plate away. Slowly—with great reluctance—he leaned over, opened the flap of his bag, reached in, and brought out a small box containing a pistol, and six silver bullets, which he placed in the center of the table.
    Clint leaned forward to look without touching, for the moment.
    â€œAre those silver bullets?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œAnd what kind of gun is that?”
    â€œIt is German.”
    â€œMay I?”
    The man hesitated, then said, “Of course.”
    Clint picked the pistol up out of the box and examined it thoroughly.
    â€œAnd are those actually silver bullets?” he asked again. “Real silver?”
    â€œThey are.”
    Clint picked one up, turned it over in his fingers, then replaced it, and the pistol.
    â€œWhy silver bullets?” he asked.
    â€œBecause,” Talbot said, slowly, “that is what it will take to kill this killer. Nothing else will work.”
    â€œHow do you know?”
    â€œBecause I have hunted this killer before,” Talbot said. “Many times.”
    â€œThis same killer?”
    Talbot hesitated, then said, “Not exactly the same but the same type.”
    â€œAnd what type is that?” Clint asked. “Some kind of huge wolf?”
    â€œIt could be.”
    â€œWell,” Clint said, “if it
could
be, then what else
could
it be?”
    Talbot hesitated again, took the time to close the box and replace it in the bag. It took him a while, as he seemed to be opening something else, careful not to let it slip from the bag.
    â€œCome on, Talbot,” Clint said, “what else is in the damn bag?”
    â€œLet us go back to the hotel,” Talbot said, “and I will show you.”

FIFTEEN
    They went back to the hotel to Talbot’s room. Once inside, he put the bag on the bed, opened the flap, and brought out a larger box than he had in the café. He placed the box on the bed and stepped back.
    â€œOpen