She Returns from War

EIGHT



A peal of thunder shook Victoria out of a deep sleep. She sat bolt upright, eyes wide, heart pounding. Nothing around her looked familiar. Where was she? What had that noise been? After a few seconds, her thoughts caught up to her fear, and she relaxed.

The fire had burned itself low, leaving a few embers still glowing in the fireplace. Victoria shivered. Outside, rain beat against the roof and swept across the yard in great sheets, driven by bursts of wind. Lightning lit the night in fits. It illuminated the yard, the barn, the wind pump, and even the cliffs. Victoria stood and crossed over to a window, holding her arms around herself. What would have happened to them if they hadn't reached the ranch before the tempest hit? They might not have survived the night, and if they had, it would have been without any rest at all.

"Mighty fine sight, ain't it?" Cora's voice came from a chair facing the door.

Victoria turned toward her. The hunter was nothing but a silhouette. "Indeed. It's quite frightening, truth be told. I was just imagining what it would be like to be caught outside in such a storm."

The silhouette nodded. "Ain't fun, I can tell you that."

"You've been in one?"

"Several," Cora said. "Can't go too long riding around the west without getting caught by weather sooner or later. Ain't regular out here, see. A body can ride from Denver to Santa Fe and have the front half of his horse sunburnt and the back half frozen by a blizzard."

"Surely not," Victoria said.

"Can't trust a cowpuncher's stories none," Cora said, "but all the same, sure seems like it was possible sometimes. Why, I seen a storm settle in over one half of a town and leave the other half all sunny and nice. You'll get to where you don't trust the weather, neither, you stay out here long enough. Best one can do is take along what he can and shoot what he can to keep his stores full. After that, it's just luck of the draw."

"Yes, shooting and dressing game," Victoria said. "Such an enjoyable way to pass the time."

Cora laughed. "Stew's awful good for all the blood and guts, though, ain't it?"

Despite herself, Victoria had to nod in agreement. Once she'd gotten past the horror of eating an animal she had just skinned and gutted herself, the taste was surprisingly pleasant. No steak and kidney pie, but not bad. When soaked in the broth, even the hardtack was far less abhorrent. The generous amount of salt Cora had added to the stew had no doubt helped the flavor along, though.

"You feel up to sitting for a spell?" Cora asked, stretching her arms. "All that excitement earlier done wore me out."

"Yes, I could have a turn at the watch," Victoria said. "How long was I asleep?"

"No more than a few hours," Cora said. "You was snoring like a mountain cat, though. Kept making me think one of them vampires was coming back to life."

"Very funny." Victoria walked over to the chair, and Cora got up. "I don't imagine your slumber is without the slightest noise."

"Oh, I ain't claiming nothing of the sort. I reckon you'll be ready to stuff your hat down my throat just to keep me quiet before too long. Don't go trying it, though, or you'll be the one with a mouthful of something unpleasant." Cora moved over to the remains of the fire, stretched out, and put her hat over her face. After a moment, she picked it up again. "Oh, my rifle is there by the chair if you need it."

"I hope it won't be necessary," Victoria said, but the hunter had already resumed her sleeping position. Victoria thought about stoking the fire for her but decided against it. If Cora had wanted the fire built up, she would have done it herself. She probably had some tactical reason for not doing so, some unwritten rule of vampire hunter code. Victoria herself couldn't be less interested in any code such individuals may hold to. Cora was a competent fighter, true, and she could almost be a pleasant companion at times, but Victoria held no more illusions about the wild romance of such a lifestyle. If the old hunter was any indication, hunting vampires for hire made one uncouth and brazen, neither of which were qualities Victoria desired to foster in herself.

Another flash of lightning lit the yard, making the three bundles lying just beyond the porch visible for an instant. Cora had insisted on dragging the corpses outside so they could be exposed to sunlight as soon as possible, and for once Victoria hadn't argued. The bodies would turn into dust when the sun rose, the hunter said, so they simply lined them up in the yard and headed back into the house to see about starting a fire and preparing the stew.

When the next flash came, Victoria blinked. Had she seen a shadow? Leaning forward, she peered out through the window, but she couldn't see anything. The clouds covered the moon, leaving the intermittent flickers of lightning the only source of light. Victoria drew her revolver, curling her fingers around the grip for reassurance.

When the next burst of light came, Victoria was certain. A figure was standing in the yard near the barn. A shiver ran up her spine. It had been nothing more than a shadow, but she knew it all the same: her captors had returned.

Keeping her eyes fixed on the yard, Victoria turned her head slightly. "Cora." No answer. "Cora," she said again, louder.

There was a snort from the fireplace. "What? What's wrong?"

"I think something's out there," Victoria said.

"Is that right?" A rustling sound as she rolled over. "Go on and sort it out, then."

"What?"

"Get your pretty little rear out there and go chase your spook."

"I'll do no such thing," Victoria said.

"Then what's the point of putting you on the watch?" Cora asked. "Sentry ain't no good if they don't go have a look at what they spot, now is they?"

"Perhaps not, but you're the expert here. I wouldn't know the first thing to do-"

"You already done it earlier."

"-if it ends up being something other than one of the creatures we previously fought," Victoria finished. "I believe it is one of the beings that captured me two nights ago."

"You should be itching for the payback, then." Before Victoria could reply, Cora groaned and sat up. "But if you got sand in your bloomers about it, I reckon I can go have a look."

"Thank you."

"For what?"

Victoria blinked. "Going in my stead."

"Who says you ain't going?" Cora's boots thumped across the floor. She picked up her rifle from where it stood propped up against the chair, then turned to Victoria. "I sure don't."

"But surely we need someone to remain behind?"

"And do what?" Cora asked. "Ain't like we got a big old crate of gold or some such needs guarding. Always take more if more's available, whether you're talking bullets, biscuits, or back-watchers. Either you're coming with or we both sit tight here."

"But-"

"Put it this way: if I run myself on out there chasing your spook and it decides to stop by the house for a bite of fancy girl, what are you going to do about it?"

Victoria paused. The thought made her blood run cold. Even with her new weapons, she knew she wouldn't stand much of a chance against Fodor Glava or the Indian woman without Cora. If either one of them appeared while the hunter was away, Victoria might not be able to escape. The Indian woman's threat still lingered in the back of her mind. If she discovered that Victoria had not only disobeyed her command but brought the hunter straight to her, she was not likely to be forgiving.

Still, she had handled herself well when she'd fought with the vampire in the barn. Cora hadn't been around to help her then, and she had not only survived but killed her foe. Maybe there wasn't as much to killing monsters as she thought. Moreover, it seemed highly unlikely that Cora had received any kind of formal training in the business. If she could master the art through self-tutelage, so could Victoria.

"Do what you will," Victoria said, "but I am staying here."

Cora regarded her in silence. Although the hunter's eyes were invisible in the near-total darkness, Victoria could feel them boring into her. Raising her chin, the young woman leaned back in the chair with a look that she hoped was as powerful.

"Suit yourself." A flash of lightning outlined the creases in Cora's face. "Do me a favor, though: if they get their fangs in you while I'm away, go on and shoot yourself before you turn."

Turning away from Victoria, she slid the rifle into the scabbard on her back and pulled her hat down low. The door opened with a loud creak, and the cold smell of rain filled the room. A gust of wind swirled through the doorway only to be cut off as Cora shut the door behind her.

Victoria watched the old hunter disappear into the downpour, anger churning inside her like the clouds overhead. No matter what she said or did, Cora seemed to have little regard for her. Even killing the vampire hadn't pried a word of praise out of her. Now, Victoria had managed to fall even further in her companion's esteem by choosing what seemed like a perfectly sensible option. Besides, her part of the bargain with Cora said nothing about helping her kill anything, vampire or otherwise. All she had agreed to do was lead the hunter to the spot where the man called Fodor Glava had been, and she had done so. What sort of person rewarded a favor with contempt?

Victoria shook her head. She was letting herself think on the subject far more than she should. A gust of wind slammed into the walls, making them creak and crack. Standing to her feet, she walked over to the dying fire and set about rekindling it. Cora may have had some unspoken law against warmth and light, but she was off on her own business. Rebuilding the fire with fresh kindling took a bit more effort, but she soon had a small pile ready on the stone hearth.

Victoria had purchased a small book of matches on Cora's insistence, and she pulled them out of her satchel with a brief sense of gratitude. The small flame danced down the match, but it refused to jump to the kindling. Muttering under her breath, Victoria blew it out and struck another.

"Is a bit chilly in here, ain't it?"

Victoria let out a short scream and spun around, the match falling from her fingers. Blue eyes flashed at her from the doorway.

"Of course, I can't tell the difference no how," the man said. He swaggered toward her, planting his boots deliberately with each step. "Rain, snow, or stars is all the same to me. Just one more perk to being what I is."

As he spoke, Victoria rose to her feet. Trying to calm her pounding heart, she worked her fingers around the crucifix in her belt. The wooden carving pulled free, and she pointed it at those wicked blue flames.

The man called Fodor Glava halted his advance. "Hey, now, that ain't no kind of way to treat an old friend, now is it? Here I was expecting hugs and kisses, but you got to get all mean about things. How do you reckon that makes a body feel?"

"Afraid," Victoria said, pulling her revolver free of its holster.

"Well, ain't you a regular bobcat all of a sudden like?" The shadow raised its arms. "Don't shoot me, missie, I ain't done nothing wrong."

Victoria squeezed the trigger. Flame belched out of the gun's barrel as man-made thunder crashed around her. The man called Fodor Glava vanished from sight. For one brief moment, elation swept through her: she had killed the man Cora Oglesby was hunting, proving herself worthy of the hunter's respect.

Laughter filled the room. "Don't go fooling yourself, sweetheart. You ain't nothing but a housecat, and I'm one big old grizzly bear."

"Are you certain of that?" Victoria asked. "From what I'm told of them, grizzly bears don't hide from little girls."

"Oh, we is a sly bunch," came the reply. "Ain't all muscle and fur and teeth, you know. Some of us has the wits of a fox and the speed to match."

"We hunt foxes for sport in England," she said. No matter how he boasted, he clearly feared her crucifix and her gun, or he would have already killed her. The thought gave her courage.

"You ain't never met a fox like me, honey."

Something blue flashed in the corner of her eye. She turned and fired. The gunshot lit up the room, but the man simply vanished once more.

"And here I thought proper gals knew better than to shoot guns at folk. Ain't ladylike no matter how you slice it, though I reckon it's getting me more than a mite randy. What say you and me have ourselves a poke after we get done with our dance?" Victoria shuddered at the thought and was answered by another laugh. "Well, if you is that excited about it, we may just cut the dance short."

Victoria took a step forward, sweeping the Colt's barrel around the room. "You're welcome to try."

"Don't mind if I do."

The voice came from behind her. Before she could turn to face it, something slammed into her back. She pitched forward, arms flung in front of her to break the fall. Her palms hit the floor with a dull thud, but they couldn't stop her from half-rolling, half-skidding along the boards.

When she came to a stop, Victoria pushed herself up on her hands and knees. The floor pitched and rolled like the deck of a ship. Struggling to rise, she realized her right hand was now empty. The impact must have knocked the Colt out of her grasp. She now faced this monster armed with nothing but a small carving.

As if to underline the point, the blue eyes loomed above the place where she had been standing a moment before. "This here's a pretty little gun you got," the man said. "Seems a right shame that it got itself all banged up like it did. That's what happens when a girl plays at gunfighting, I reckon."

There was a thump at her feet. Kneeling down, Victoria reached toward the sound. Her fingers touched on cold metal. Picking it up, she could immediately tell that something was wrong with the revolver. It felt different in her hand, as if the weight had shifted. She ran it along the back of her other hand, and her heart sank.

The barrel was bent back on itself.

"We gave you a chance, darlin," the man said. "We let you go easy and free, but you just had to stick in our boots like a devil's thorn." His eyes blazed as he approached her. "Ain't pretty what happens to them as stick in the devil's own boot, neither."

Victoria raised the crucifix, and the blue eyes halted. "I do not fear you," she lied.

"Then you ain't got the sense of a toad. Waving that matchstick around ain't going to get you nowhere. I ain't afraid of no kindling."

Holding her useless gun, Victoria backed away from the man. Her mind raced. Even if she had the bowie knife with her, she knew it wouldn't work against him. It was just ordinary steel, and Cora had explained to her how only blessed steel or silver weapons could harm vampires. Without a weapon, she couldn't hope to fight.

The man called Fodor Glava seemed to read her thoughts. "You ain't got a prayer, darlin. Best you just come quietlike. Makes it easier on one of us, at least."

His laughter turned Victoria's stomach. "Then kill me," she said. Her words might be her doom, but she wouldn't die kneeling to this man. "If it really is just a piece of kindling, what's stopping you?"

"I like them alive," he said. "Ain't no fun if you just lays there like a dead fish."

"I do not fear you," she said again, trying to muster her resolve.

"Pudding-headed whore. You got every reason to be scared of me, and here you is being all uppity. Digging your own grave, or so they say." He laughed. "You ain't exactly going to need a grave when I get through with you. No, I reckon I'll keep you on as my own personal pokey-poke for all time. A fine gentleman such as myself deserves himself a fancy girl, ain't that right?"

The man's eyes vanished without warning. Startled, she looked around. Lightning lit the interior of the house, but he was nowhere to be seen. The crucifix trembled in her hand as thunder shook the air. In that instant, her nerve broke. The fear of death consumed her, overwhelming what little courage she had rallied. It took control of her body, turning her toward the door and forcing her legs into a mad dash. Dropping the ruined gun on the floor, she nearly tore the doorknob apart as she twisted it and yanked the door open.

Victoria kept just enough sense to point the crucifix behind her as she ran out into the storm. Rain splattered in cold droplets on her face. Blinking it away, she charged through the yard in the direction of the barn. Mud splashed beneath her heels, and she fought to keep her footing amid the hidden rocks and twisted scrub. She could feel the man giving chase, the hunger and lust burning brightly in his eyes, but she could not spare the time to glance backward.

Lightning flooded the yard with brilliance, allowing her a brief moment of sight. The barn loomed just ahead, its hunched shape offering her the one chance of salvation she had. Victoria brought her arms in close for a final, desperate sprint. An arm of the crucifix jabbed into her side with every stride, but she barely felt it. Her only thought was to reach the safety of the barn and the vampire hunter within.

Somehow, Victoria reached the building and ran through the open door. Not two steps inside, her legs suddenly gave out. She stumbled for a moment before falling hard. The panic that had fueled her mad dash across the yard screamed at her to get up, but her body refused to respond. Lungs burning, she fought to regain her breath as she lay in the straw. Her shirt stuck to her like a second skin, cold and itchy.

Streams of white light cut through the shadows, followed seconds later by a teeth-rattling thunderclap. As it rolled into the distance, Victoria heard a rustling at the other end of the barn. She tried to quiet her breathing, but her racing heart made it impossible.

Drawing on the last of her strength, Victoria struggled to her feet. Her fingers squeezed the crucifix as she started walking toward the sound. The creature making it seemed restless; the rustling continued without pause. Step by step, she worked her way toward it, checking over her shoulder for any sign of the vampire. The darkness around her was absolute save for the flashes of lightning, but Victoria didn't see the telltale light from his eyes.

The rustling was very close now, hidden in the next stall. Crouching down, she ran her fingers over the savior's wooden body for reassurance. Now that she'd reached the sound, she wasn't sure what she should do next. If it was the red-eyed woman or another of the feral vampires, she couldn't very well fight them with nothing but her crucifix.

Pressing up against the post, Victoria leaned around it just enough to see into the stall. At that moment, a bolt of lightning split the shadows. It gleamed on a black eye rimmed with white. Fear shot through her limbs, but it quickly dissolved. The tension drained from her body like water through a sluice gate, leaving her legs feeling wobbly. She fell to her knees as darkness again closed in around her. Thunder shook the walls, and although she could no longer see them, she knew her horse's terrified eyes were still watching her. Her sigh of relief came out as a laugh.

"What's so funny, darlin?"

Victoria spun around so quickly she toppled over. Framed by the barn door, the man's silhouette was like a slender black candle with blue flame smoldering at its crown. She could see hunger and amusement flickering in those eyes.

Pulling herself together, Victoria rose to her feet and raised the crucifix. The man continued to watch her, apparently relishing her helplessness. Victoria knew her luck had run out. Without a real weapon, it was just a matter of time before he overwhelmed and consumed her. Cora must have run out into the storm in pursuit of her quarry, or maybe she was lying dead somewhere nearby. Either way, the hunter wouldn't be coming to her rescue. Still, Victoria wouldn't allow him to make her his mistress, no matter what happened. If need be, she would kill herself before he could take her. If only she hadn't left her knife behind.

The barn had plenty of sharp tools handy, though. Keeping the crucifix raised, she began edging over to where she remembered Cora had left the pitchfork. The tines were rusted, but they would do the job well enough if she could just get to it.

Without warning, the man's eyes vanished from the entrance. Victoria searched the shadows, hoping to see that wicked blue glow, but the barn was dark. The constant drumming of rain on the roof made it impossible to hear something sneaking up on her. She began panning the crucifix around the room as she worked her way across the barn.

Something struck her head from behind. Dazed, she fell to one knee, fighting to stay conscious. The world was spinning. She felt like she might vomit. Had she dropped the crucifix?

A cold hand clamped onto the back of her neck. Crippling pain lanced through her body. Her fingers tried to pull it off, but it was like trying to pry open a wolf's jaws. The hand lifted her mercilessly until her feet kicked at the air just above the floor.

"Now, then," came the man's voice, "what was you saying about not being scared of me?"

Victoria couldn't answer. It took all of her effort just to draw in a breath.

"What's that? Ain't got no more fancy words for me?" The hand shook her like a rag doll. Lights flashed across her vision. "Well, my pecker's got a thing or two to say to you, so you just sit still and let him have his say."

He threw her to the ground. Her head slammed into the floorboards. Stunned, she lay in the middle of a spinning vortex, struggling to remain conscious. Footsteps rustled in the straw nearby, but she couldn't remember who they belonged to.

Lucidity broke through the haze like a sunbeam. She pushed herself into a sitting position even though it felt as though someone had piled a load of bricks onto her back. The nearby shuffling continued. It had to be Fodor Glava. He was going to rape her and kill her. She needed her crucifix, but where was it? Frantic, she crawled away from the sound, hoping to find the figurine or some sort of weapon. Her time was almost up; at any moment, she would feel the grip of cold fingers somewhere on her body, and then it would be too late.

"Damn fool."

Why was he speaking to her again? Why did his voice sound strange? She turned her head.

Cora stood in the doorway, her rifle trained on Fodor Glava. A storm lantern hung from her belt, bathing her in an orange halo.

"Cora!" In that moment, Victoria could have hugged her.

"Hush up," Cora said, keeping her gaze to the man standing in the shadows. "You there. Just what do you think you're doing?"

"Cora Oglesby," he replied. "About time you showed up. Your girl here ain't much sport."

"She ain't my girl. She's just a lost lamb showed up on my doorstep."

"Awful keen on protecting her, ain't you?"

Cora stepped toward him. "Ain't nothing special. I just happen to like shooting wolves is all. You're the feller calls himself Fodor Glava, I presume?"

"Naturally," he replied with a bow. "Sure is nice to see you again."

"You can stick the act where the sun don't shine," Cora said. "I know you ain't him because I done him in four years past."

The man laughed. "You can't never kill what's dead."

"Seems to me I been doing just that for more years than I've got fingers and toes. So either I've earned my keep shamming folk all this time, or you ain't got a clue what you is." Cora closed one eye and sighted down the rifle's barrel. "Care to call my bluff?"

For once, the man didn't reply.

"That's what I thought," Cora said, "but now that we know who you ain't, I want to know who you are and why you go about calling yourself Glava."

"His blood is in me, so why shouldn't I?" he said. "I've just as much a claim to it as he did now."

Cora cocked her head to one side. "Ain't that odd? He never so much as gave you a mention when I was running him through. Could be he had other things on his mind. Still, I reckon he might have said something about making a dimwit of a disciple."

"I was his ace in the hole, see? His backup gun if you managed to whip him. He had it all figured out."

"Except for the part where I've got you on the business end of my gun," Cora said. "How are you supposed to get your revenge now or whatever you was planning to do?"

"I got my ways," he replied.

"Ain't going to do you much good if they ain't coming by in the next few minutes." Cora glanced down at Victoria. "Get up, girl."

Victoria scrambled to her feet and hurried over to her, keeping an eye on the man. "Yes?"

"Here." Cora shoved the rifle into her hands. "Keep this on him."

The weight of the gun was almost too much for her. Hoisting it with difficulty, she pointed the barrel at the blue eyes. "What will you do?"

"Get my answer," Cora said. She untied the lantern from her belt and lifted it. "Now, let's see who you really are."

"He is a demon," said a new voice. "That is all you need to know."

Cora's head turned so quickly Victoria heard her neck bones pop. "Who in tarnation are you?" the hunter asked.

"You only need to know what I am," the woman replied.

Victoria glanced over her shoulder at the speaker, and a chill ran down her spine. The silhouette of a woman stood in the doorway, eyes gleaming red in the night.

"She's my ace," said the man.

"Don't look like much of one," Cora said.

"I am more than what I seem," the woman said, "much as you are, Cora Oglesby."

Cora laughed. "All I am is an old drunk. If that's more than I seem to be, maybe I ought to gussy myself up from time to time."

"Don't go flattering her, now," said the man. He took a step forward.

Victoria tightened her grip on the rifle. "Don't move."

"You, Victoria Dawes," said the woman. "You did not obey me."

"I tried," Victoria said, "but she insisted on coming out here before she would leave with me."

"Well, I'll be damned," Cora said, glancing at Victoria. "You wasn't joshing me after all. This squaw really did send you after me."

"Mind your words," the woman said, "or they will be your death."

"Them's some big words," Cora said. "I'd lay fifty on them being a bluff."

"You would be wise to reconsider," the woman replied. She stepped forward into the lantern's halo of light.

Victoria could not help but stare. Aside from a hide mantle around her shoulders, the woman was naked. Droplets of rain clung to her, creeping down skin the color of rust to pool at her feet. Gooseflesh covered her exposed arms and legs, but she didn't seem to feel the chill. Sodden ropes of black hair were plastered to her face, neck, and chest.

"This is my lucky day," the man said.

The woman ignored the comment. Peeling the hide mantle from her shoulders, she threw it at Cora's feet. "This is a warning."

"I seen me plenty of hides," Cora said. "Yours ain't all that special, though it could do with a good tanner. Ain't you Indians got folks that can do that?"

"Look at it closely, hunter," the woman said.

Cora rolled her eyes. Crouching down, she held the lantern over the strip of flesh. Her smirk slowly faded, and she smoothed the skin out with her free hand. The blood drained from her face. She shot a quick look at the woman before storming into the shadows.

Victoria watched the light from the hunter's lantern retreat, confused and frightened by her reaction. Left alone between the two creatures, she backed up until she could see them both without turning her head. The Indian paid her no heed, but she could feel the man's blue eyes on her. Her arms ached, but she kept the rifle raised, reminding both herself and him that she still had the power to kill him.

A roar of anger filled the barn. It was so loud and full of rage that it was barely human, and Victoria took it at first for another clap of thunder. Cora charged back into the group, revolver drawn, face red with fury. She pressed the barrel against the woman's forehead.

"What did you do?"

The woman regarded her with calm black eyes. "As I said, it is a warning."

Cora pulled the hammer back. "Where is my horse?"

"Dead."

Orange light glinted on the Colt's barrel as Cora stepped back and pulled the trigger.

Click.

Instead of a gunshot's deafening report, the revolver simply clicked.

In a blink, the woman's hand came from nowhere, knocking the gun away. It flipped end-over-end into the shadows. Cora reached for her saber, but the woman grabbed her wrist. "Be still."

Cora's other fist smashed into the woman's jaw. The woman rocked backward, but she didn't release the hunter's arm. When Cora hauled back for a second blow, the Indian caught the swinging fist in her palm. "Be still," she said again.

Cora spat in her face. "Go to hell."

"I offer you this chance, hunter," the woman said, "because we share the pain of loss."

The hunter deflated a little. "What are you talking about?"

"Do not ask idle questions. I know of your husband."

Cora lowered her arms. "How?"

"I heard you speak of him."

"When?" Cora asked, confusion bleeding into the anger on her face.

"Earlier today," the woman replied. "You told the young one of your husband as you rode toward this place."

"How do you know that?"

The woman motioned toward the hide. "I was your horse."

Cora blinked at her, then threw back her head and filled the barn with laughter. Victoria and the blue-eyed man openly stared at her, and even the Indian woman seemed confused by her reaction. True, the woman's reply made little sense, but Victoria hardly thought it merited such an uproarious guffaw.

The echoes soon died out, and Cora shook her head. "I got to hand it to you, that is the best yarn I've heard in a good while. Them boys back at the Print Shop could have a few lessons from you on spinning tales."

"I do not deceive you," the woman said. She pointed at Victoria, who shifted uneasily at the attention. "That one fired her weapon at a bush, and her horse fled at the sound. When you killed the rabbit for your supper, you made her tie it to her horse. You spoke of the importance of animals and of your husband."

As the woman went on, the smile disappeared from Cora's face. Her eyes grew stony. Victoria watched her countenance change, the rifle all but forgotten in her hands.

"Well, ain't that odd," Cora said when the woman finished. "You was dogging us all the way from town, and I never knew. You Indians got some first-rate tracking skills, you know that?"

"Believe what you will," the woman replied. "But I urge you to take this chance and escape with your lives. Return with Victoria Dawes to the east, hunter. Assist her with her demons. Leave the land of my people, and do not return."

"I ain't about to take orders from the same squaw that done killed my horse," Cora said. "We ain't settled until I take that price out of your hide."

Before the woman could respond, Cora spun toward Victoria and snatched the rifle from her hands. Victoria stepped backward, stunned, as the hunter swiveled back toward her enemy. The Winchester's barrel spouted flame, but the Indian was no longer where she had stood a moment before. Cursing, Cora chambered another round and fired at the fleeing shadow. The silver bullet sailed over the woman's head and out into the falling rain.

"Cora, behind you!" Victoria screamed.

Without missing a beat, the hunter spun in place. The rifle's barrel cracked across the blue-eyed man's face as he charged, sending him tumbling to one side. Cora followed his roll, sending a round through his leg. He bellowed in anger, but before she could put a bullet through his head, he recovered and fled into the night.

Seconds passed, marked by the pounding of Victoria's heart. The ringing in her ears faded, replaced by the hollow drumming of rain on the roof. Cora kept the rifle pointed at the open door, every muscle stretched taut, waiting for the slightest movement. None came.

A gunshot cut through the sound of falling rain as fire lit the inside of the barn. Cora worked the action, aimed at the roof, and fired again. Between shots, Victoria could hear the hunter's rage-filled screaming. Only when she had emptied the rifle's magazine did she fall silent, her back to the young Englishwoman.

"Get your things," the hunter said without turning.

"But-"

"Do it!"

Cora's voice cut the air like a whip-crack, making Victoria jump. Scrambling for the lantern, she raised it above her head and began searching for her lost crucifix. Her boot swept from side to side, pushing loose straw out of the way. Behind her, she heard a steady metallic clicking as the hunter loaded fresh bullets into her rifle. Victoria could sense Cora's impatience mounting with each one. She swept faster.

A few tense seconds later, she heard the unmistakable sound of wood tumbling on wood. Chasing it with both lantern and hand, she pulled her crucifix from a small pile of straw. It looked none the worse for the wear.

Tucking it in her belt where it belonged, she looked at Cora. "Done."

"What about your gun?"

"It's back in the house," Victoria said, letting her frustration leak into her voice. "It's useless now. That Fodor Glava person bent the barrel backward."

"Get my gun, then," Cora said. "I think it fell over there somewhere."

Victoria sighed. Lifting the lantern again, she moved to where the gun looked like it may have fallen and began her search. When she located the Colt, she slipped it into her empty holster and returned to Cora's side. "Got everything?" the hunter asked. Victoria nodded. "I'd say we're done here," Cora said. "No point spending the night out here. You ready for another wetting?"

"I suppose so. Do you want your gun back?"

"Hang on to it a spell. We can't have you running around defenseless, now can we?" Victoria blushed, but Cora had already turned toward the door. "Tie that light to your belt so you got your hands free. Never know if they're planning on jumping us out there."

Victoria did as instructed, then pulled the crucifix from her belt. "Ready."

The hunter plunged into the downpour, vanishing from sight almost instantly. Holding her breath, Victoria followed. The shock of cold water made her flinch. She resisted the urge to wrap her arms around herself, keeping the crucifix extended toward the darkness.