The Killing Blow by J. R. Roberts Page A

even made a sound as Clint took his reins and led him back along the path they’d already taken.
    As night drew closer, it was easier for Clint to find the other three men. The woods were getting denser to the north and it was impossible for three men to move through them without making a sound, no matter how skilled they were.
    After tying Eclipse up again and scouting ahead on his own, Clint caught sight of a tiny flicker of light. He crawled on his belly through a thick mess of weeds and bottom-dwelling insects before finally catching sight of the other men’s campfire.
    The mountain man and Crow were huddled over the flame, which was barely large enough to produce enough heat to warm their hands. Something was cooking over the flame and after all the crawling he’d done, Clint looked at that cooking critter as if it were a king’s feast.
    He was forced to lie there and watch those two men eat their supper for half an hour. Clint knew there was another Indian somewhere out there. Since he hadn’t felt a knife in his back or been dragged off his feet just yet, Clint assumed he hadn’t been spotted. That meant he had to stay put until he spotted that other Indian.
    Finally, like a bobcat slinking in from the shadows, the other Indian stepped into the dim glow of the campfire and sat down. He spoke in a voice too soft for Clint to hear, while glancing up anxiously at every flutter of a bird’s wing or rustle of a leaf.
    The first opportunity Clint got to move was when the Indian stopped talking and started eating. Slowly, Clint backed away.
    As hungry and cold as Clint was, he knew better than to build a fire when he got back to the spot where he’d left Eclipse. Even a flame half the size of the three men’s paltry cooking fire would probably be enough to catch their attention.
    Before long, Clint realized that just sleeping too close to their camp was taking a hell of a risk. Ignoring the gnawing in his belly and the chill digging underneath his skin, Clint took Eclipse’s reins and led the stallion even farther back along the tracks they’d already put down.
    He found a nice spot just over a quarter mile away that backed against a cluster of trees; not even a snake could get through. In front of him were more trees and bushes that started to look like one solid wall to Clint’s tired eyes.
    In the end, he wound up sitting with his back propped against a rock and a stick of jerked beef in his hand. He was almost too tired to chew the leathery meat, but it still felt good to get something in his stomach. With his rifle laying across his lap and his hand upon the grip of his Colt, Clint allowed his eyes to close and he drifted off to sleep.
    Clint’s eyes snapped open and his fingers tightened reflexively around the rifle when he heard something moving nearby. Even though his blood was racing in his veins thanks to the way he’d been pulled from his sleep, Clint felt as though he couldn’t have drifted off for more than a few minutes.
    Taking a glance upward, however, he saw the first hints of dawn spreading across the sky. Clint noticed Eclipse not too far away. It was clear the stallion wasn’t in the spot from which the noise had come.
    After getting his legs beneath him, Clint worked his way across the small clearing and into the thicker trees. Once there, he stopped and focused his eyes and ears to take in everything around him.
    Although more birds and animals were moving about in the early hour of the new day, Clint couldn’t hear anything big enough to cause him any concern.
    He could see even less.
    The trees were just as gnarled as they’d been the previous night and the ground was covered with just as much mulch. Other than that, the only difference was the hazy light filtering in through the branches over his head.
    Clint thought back to what he’d heard and knew something had been stalking him. Something bigger than a rabbit or possum had