Dead of Winter (8 page)

  "You're welcome to try," Duggan said, his words clear in the morning air, "but I will shoot the first man that steps forward."

  The miners exchanged nervous glances and shuffled their feet. The big one at the head of the group found something to stare at on his boots. Cora folded her arms across her chest and grinned. She hoped poor old Hines wasn't watching from a window somewhere, or he'd be mighty disappointed to see that none of his friends were willing to take a bullet for him.

  After a tense minute, the miners began to disperse, breaking into smaller herds and ambling down the street. A few squinted at the morning sun with red eyes before deciding to go in search of a bed. The ringleader, now abandoned by his friends, stared at the barrels of Duggan's guns for a moment before turning away. He shuffled through the snowy street, unsure of where to look or where to go.

  Duggan watched them all leave. Only when the street was empty did he thumb the hammers back to rest. Catching sight of Cora standing in the street, he holstered one revolver but kept the other in his hand.

  "Morning, marshal," Cora called out as she approached, her buffalo coat swirling around her legs.

  "Morning, Mrs Oglesby. Glad to see you've recovered." Duggan turned and walked through the station's door.

  She followed him into the station. "Amazing, what a prairie oyster can do for you. Them things is truly the mercy of the good Lord for the drunkard."

  "I wouldn't know," Duggan replied, annoyed that the woman was standing in his station again. At the deputy's desk, Jack Evans sat staring wide-eyed at his boss. Duggan turned his attention to him. "What's wrong with you, deputy?"

  "I ain't never seen anything like that before, sir," the deputy said. "You faced down a entire lynch mob all on your own."

  Duggan nodded. "Ain't like I had a deputy on duty to back me up."

  Jack flushed bright red and lowered his head. "Sorry, sir. It just happened so fast."

  "Lots of things do," the marshal said. "You got to act just as fast or you'll end up shot. Worse, somebody else may end up in a box that don't deserve it."

  "Ain't met the man yet that didn't deserve it," Cora said.

  The marshal didn't look at her. "I don't reckon you'll find him at a card table or a bar."

  Cora ignored the remark. "Once met a cowpuncher not a day over eighteen years down in Santa Fe. Told me he ain't done a single sin his whole life on account of his being cooped up on his ma's farm for all of it. I says to him that we're all equal sinners in the eyes of the Lord, but he shook his head and proclaimed his innocence. Said he once saw angels flying about his farm, and how could he have seen them if he wasn't a good boy? The good Lord was watching out for him, he said."

  Duggan rolled his eyes, but Jack was curious. "What happened to him?"

  "Poor fool went and got himself ate by a werewolf, I think," she said, shrugging. "Ben could tell you better than me. He's got the memory for that sort of thing."

  Duggan turned on his heels and started toward his office, intent on the bottle stashed in the top drawer. This woman's nonsense brought out his thirst like nobody else.

  "Hold up a tick," Cora called after him. "I got something for you."

  "What might that be?" Duggan turned and looked at her from his office doorway.

  "My own personal sighting of your monster."

  A spark of anger flashed in the marshal's blue eyes. "This another one of your 'glimpses'?"

  "No, sir," Cora said, shaking her head. "Got all up close and friendly this time around."

  "How close?"

  Cora stepped up to the deputy's desk and looked at him. "About like this. To his head, anyway. Couldn't really tell how close the arms got, seeing as I was busy not getting eaten."

  Duggan took a step toward her, the glimmer of anger replaced with curiosity. "What did it look like?"

  "Like old Jules Bartlett. You remember him? That miner hermit out west of town?" The marshal nodded. "I reckon it's what's left of him after some kind of evil thing took hold. Kept his human shape, at least, though his arms and legs are all spider-like now."

  "Ain't he the one from before?" Duggan asked. "Sheriff Barnes said you dragged in a miner once to prove he wasn't a monster."

  "One and the same."

  "Guess you was wrong about that, then."

  Cora laughed. "Marshal, if I'd been wrong back then, you wouldn't have no Jim Barnes to grump about no more. This here development's new. Probably happened within the last month or so."

  "What makes you so sure?"

  "Too few dead folk," she replied. "Whatever that old miner has turned into, it ain't got no reason left. Thing's like an animal, only looking for food. You said them wolfhounds fled the scene, right?"

  Jack nodded before the marshal had a chance.

  "So I'll warrant this monster only takes to human flesh. Don't know if it remembers anything that old Jules knew, so it's anybody's guess if it knows how to find its way into town. Can't imagine it would take long for it to figure it out, though. You'll have it breathing down your necks before you know it if we don't whip it." Cora paused for a moment as she thought. "Actually, I don't think it breathes, or needs to, anyway. It makes a moaning noise, though, so listen for that."

  Jack couldn't believe what he was hearing. "You're expecting this thing to come after us?"

  "Why not?" Cora said. "Like I told your boss a few days ago, monsters don't never get their fill. For all we know, it could have tracked me back here yesterday."

  "Well, if that don't beat all," Duggan said. "We got us a man-eating critter out there and a halfwit bounty hunter in here. I don't suppose you got a plan worked up?"

  "First thing today, Ben and I are catching the train for Denver."

  "What?" the two lawmen said in unison.

  "Yep," Cora said. "We got a priest down there that knows a thing or two we don't, so I reckon he might know what we're dealing with."

  "So we're supposed to just sit here and wait for you to get back?" Duggan asked.

  "That's about the size of it."

  "What if this thing comes around while you're gone?"

  "Fight it off. Ain't that hard."

  Duggan clenched his fists, restraining himself from striking her across the face. "If it ain't that hard, what do we need you for?"

  "There's a difference between fighting it off and killing it, marshal. Ben and I will figure the killing part out, but even you boys should be able to hold it off for a few days."

  "How would we go about that?" Jack asked, not liking her dismissive tone. The thought of the monster lurking in the streets made him uneasy, but he didn't consider himself a coward.

  "Well, can't say, exactly," Cora said. "Seemed to take a mighty disliking to my silver bullets. Didn't seem too fond of fire, neither."

  "That's easy, then," Duggan said, rolling his eyes. "We just need to find us a silver arsenal of our own and we'll be safe as a bear cub with its ma."

  "Finding silver is hard work in a mining town, ain't it?"

  The marshal glowered at her. "I ain't exactly got a mine of my own."

  Cora folded her arms. "Can't you just ask one of the mining companies to loan you a mess until we get this settled?"

  Jack burst out laughing, and even Duggan cracked a smile. "I'll get right on that, Mrs Oglesby, as soon as you pull the sun down out of the sky."

  "I take your point," Cora said. "You ought to make do with fire, though."

  "Don't have much choice," the marshal said. "If we're lucky, we may even settle this while you're gone."

  It was Cora's turn to laugh. "I never figured you for a sense of humor, marshal."

 
 

 
 
 

"Well, ain't this a regular mess."

  Cora and Ben stood on the train station platform, watching the steady stream of people flow around them. Men in dark suits and waxed mustaches paraded into passenger coaches bound for San Francisco, Saint Louis, Chicago, and New York. On their arms, ladies in calico dresses peered from beneath lace-trimmed hats. Their perfume lent the scent of flowers to the stench of smoke, oil, and human sweat.

  Following the swell of the crowd, they stepped out into the street and started walking. The afternoon sun glowed on the brick buildings, its reflection in their windows blinding them at regular intervals. The murmur of voices all around them blended with the clopping of horse hooves on the street.

  After a few blocks, Cora paused and stamped her feet. "I hate walking," she said. "Just our luck to catch the only train left in the world that ain't got a livestock car."

  "Don't you worry none," Ben said. "Them boys at the hotel livery will take right fine care of Our Lady."

  "Ain't her I'm worried about, it's me. Won't do to show up at the good Lord's house all worn out and ragged. Old Father Baez might take us for vagabonds or some such."

  Ben started walking again. "He'd be more than half right if he did."

  They made it to the church just before dusk. Red sunlight made the golden cross atop the bell tower shimmer, and Cora paused for a moment to admire it. As pretty as it was, she'd never understood why some churches chose gold over silver. Sure, the gold was more valuable, but no demon or monster had succumbed to a golden bullet through the heart.

  "Well, let's go see if the old man can help us out." She pushed her hat off her head. The white streak in her dark hair glowed as she smoothed down her braid.

  "You go talk to him. I think I'll go scare us up a room for the night." Ben's book was tucked under his arm as his blue eyes looked up and down the street.

  "Make sure it's got a good view," she said. "You know how I like to see the mountains."

  Ben nodded and started on his way down the street. Cora watched him go for a moment before ascending the big stone steps. The church building, though modest, was still new, having only been built in 1865. The Vatican had commissioned it in honor of Denver's appointment as the capital of the Colorado Territory. Before its construction, Father Baez's congregation had met in a small Spanish mission on the eastern end of the city. Cora had never been there, but the way Father Baez had spoken lovingly of the new church on their last visit, she figured it hadn't been very nice.

  She challenged the big front door to a brief Indian arm wrestle before earning her way inside. The smell of stained wood and resin incense drifted out of the shadows to greet her in the darkened foyer. Candles winked at her from their stands on either side of an archway that opened into the small sanctuary. Beneath her feet, thick carpet muffled the sound of her boots as she made her way inside.

  Once past the arch, she looked to her right. A small marble basin stood at attention behind the first row of pews. She reached over, dipped her finger in the cool water, and crossed herself. Satisfied, she began walking down the center aisle. Solemn saints watched her progress from their painted windows of red and purple and yellow. Their rich colors were fading with the daylight, shifting from a dazzling display of light to a soft evening glow. Candles burned atop iron stands at either end of each row of pews, casting their pale light toward the rafters. In front of her, a crucifix hung above the altar, illuminated by rows of candles on either side. A purple sash hung down from the Savior's arms as He looked skyward in pious agony. To the left of the altar, the water in the baptismal font reflected the orange candlelight.

  The smell of incense grew stronger, mixing with the sweet scent of candle smoke as she approached the altar. She knelt before the crucifix and crossed herself again, bowing her head in reverence. The carpet was soft on her knees, so she lingered for a bit, savoring the silence.

  "What can I do for you, child?" a voice behind her asked. A grin blossomed on her lips as she turned to face the voice's owner.

  Father Baez stood in the aisle, his hands clasped in front of him. His white hair and beard were bright above his black vestments, making him look a little like a candle himself. The look of concern on his face melted into a wide smile when he saw her face.

  "Ah, Cora," he said, stepping forward and holding out his arms. "It is good to see you again."

  She accepted his embrace, stooping a little in the process. Father Baez was one of the few men in the world shorter than her. "I'm surprised you remember me, Father."

  "Well, I don't get the chance to meet many vampire hunters," he replied, a twinkle in his dark eyes. He stepped back and looked her over. "The years have been kind to you, I see."

  "You'd sing a different tune if you saw me in the daylight," she said. "You look the same as you ever did."

  Father Baez smiled. "Not much changes when you reach my age." Despite his years, he still stood upright, not stooped like so many old men. He sat down in a pew and motioned her to sit beside him. "So what brings you here?"

  "Well, I'm in a fix," she said, taking the offered seat and crossing her legs. "Got me a monster up near Leadville that I can't lick or even put a name to."

  The priest's white eyebrows drew together. "You've never seen one like it?"

  "Not a one," Cora replied.

  "Tell me what it looked like."

  "Well, it looked like a cross between a frozen corpse and a spider. It had black skin like frostbite on its fingers and hands and lips. And it was missing its nose. The head and chest was normal-sized, like the kind you'd find on anybody, but the arms and the legs were a good sight longer than they ought to be." Cora settled into the pew as she continued. "If I had to guess, I'd say the arms were half as long again as the torso, and the legs maybe another half or so. It made a kind of moaning sound, which I first took to be the sounds made by a miner who done hurt himself something fierce. Imagine my surprise when the miner I was searching for turned out to be the monster what tried to eat me."