She Returns From War (19 page)

The result surprised her as much as it did the sheriff. Where the water fell, plumes of smoke billowed from the desiccated skin. It was as though someone had poured vinegar on a hot stove. A sound like sizzling fatback filled the room. Alarmed, Victoria took a hasty step backward, bumping into Cora. The hunter held out a hand to steady her companion, a smirk playing about her lips. She nodded toward the sheriff, and Victoria followed her gaze.

Morgan's eyes were wide in his lean face, and his cheeks had gone deathly pale. His lips moved without sound. Brown eyes stole a quick, bewildered glance at the two women.

"What in tarnation is this?" he finally asked.

"This," Cora said, "is what happens when you throw holy water on something that's been cursed with unholy blood. Vampire, hellhound, werewolf, they all go up in steam and screams when you give them a good bathing." She folded her arms and cocked her head. "Still think I'm an old fool?"

The sheriff gaped at her for a moment before turning his gaze back to the smoking corpse. The trails of smoke were thinning out, resembling cigarette smoke instead of blacksmith's steam. Morgan took a step toward the body. Crouching down beside it, he craned his neck this way and that. Finally, he shook his head. "You is still a fool in my book, but maybe you got your head screwed on right about this here case."

"See?" Cora said, arching an eyebrow at Victoria. "The men here ain't nothing but a big old herd of sweet-talkers."

The sheriff stood and brushed his hands on his trousers. "How'd they get this way in the first place?"

"Another vampire had himself a drink," Cora said. "Given that they're all nice and tidy, I'd put good money on it being the same one we've been chasing lately."

"You know who did this?"

"Got a strong notion, though we can't be sure about it with things as they are here. Could be there's another vampire feller out there somewhere causing his own bit of ruckus, and it's just a coincidence that he turned up right when we was chasing the other one."

Brow furrowed, Morgan studied the two corpses. "So we might have two on our hands? What's the best way of handling these things?"

Cora patted the butt of her rifle. "Holy weapons, mostly. Silver bullets and blessed swords and the like. I got me some leftovers from when I was in this business, but it ain't going to be enough if you got a full infestation brewing on your hands. Best advice is to make friends with them monks out at the old Spanish mission. They ain't equipped for fighting, but they might have enough holy water and crosses as can offer the townsfolk some protection."

"Can't you go after the one that started this?"

"That's our plan," Cora said, "but you'd best have something else up your sleeve in case we can't find and whip the son of a bitch in time."

"I'll lend you one of my deputies if you like," Morgan said. "Got me a good tracker in the bunch, knows this here country powerful well."

Cora shook her head. "Keep him. Don't need me two greenhorns on the trail, or they're like to trip me up." Victoria blushed and looked down at her boots, but Cora didn't miss a beat. "Better your boys stay here and do what they can to protect folk.

"As for hunting down the bastard as did this, I got an idea." She stepped over to the other corpse and took a good look at its face. "I don't reckon those two will hide out on that ranch after what happened," she said to Victoria. "Was I them, I'd have lit out for another place to lay low for awhile."

"This isn't what I would call laying low," Victoria said.

"Me, either, but I did catch that feller in the leg with my rifle," Cora said. "I reckon he got himself a powerful hunger after that. Fresh blood keeps him strong and helps that wound of his to heal. Held off for a day or two, either out of fear or because that squaw wouldn't let him feed, but his need finally got the better of him.

"Second thing is, we done shot up his troops out at the farm. I reckon he's feeling a mite naked without critters at his heels, so he's looking to make him some new ones." She poked a grey cheek. "This feller's one of his new recruits. When he wakes up, I'd put good money on him running straight back to that blue-eyed bastard. Might not even feed before he goes if we're lucky."

"So we follow it back, just like that?" Victoria asked. "Won't he know what we're about and lead us back out into the desert, or ambush us?"

"Could be," Cora said, "but ain't like we got any other trails to follow. For all we know, this sucker will get right up and start feeding on folk as soon as the sun goes down. Then again, he might not. It might just be a pair of sixes, but it's the hand we was dealt, and we got to play it or fold."

"I'd rather not gamble our lives on it."

"You don't got to tag along. I reckon old Bob would be pleased as all get out if you decided to keep him company at the 
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 tonight instead of riding out with me. Might even make it so he don't come grumping at me in the morning."

Hot blood coursed through Victoria's cheeks. She could feel the sheriff's eyes on her. "I'll ride," she said quietly.

"I knew you'd come around." Cora's grin lasted only a moment. "Now then, we got a lot to get done and not much time. First thing, we make for the 
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 and wait for them Indian boys to wander in. Sheriff, I'll thank you to leave one of these fellers - this one, the one that's dry - right where he is so we can take our gamble with him."

"Just the one?" Morgan asked. "Why not both?"

"We went and made a sorry sight of the other one's face. Even if he did wake up, and I ain't sure he would now, I don't reckon old blue eyes would have much of a use for him. Best to just drag him into the sun and have done with it."

When the sheriff hesitated, Cora rolled her eyes. Placing a hand on the hilt of her saber, she leaned toward the ruined corpse. "Or, if you'd rather, I can just have off with his head right here, and you can go about explaining to his widow why he's a head shorter than he ought to be."

"Don't make much difference, way I see it," Morgan replied. "Ain't like saying it was spooks that did it will make a damn lick of sense, anyhow."

"Well, you ain't been elected just to slick down that mustache of yours," Cora said. "If you don't like my explanation good enough, go on and spin your own yarn about how these poor fools got themselves killed. Maybe they gone and got themselves done in by being too greedy."

Cora laughed at her own joke, but the sheriff didn't join in. In the dim light, his face seemed to redden, but whether it was from anger or embarrassment, Victoria couldn't tell. His right hand curled into a fist, then relaxed and smoothed down his mustache.

"I do believe we've places to be," Victoria reminded Cora.

"Right, right," she replied. "Much obliged for the tour here, sheriff. Now, if you'll excuse us, we got to go ask some Indian boys about a witch."

Morgan's eyebrows twitched. "A what?"

"Never you mind. Come on, Vicky, let's make tracks."

Victoria followed the hunter down the stairs and out through the building's front entrance. The deputy still stood at his post, arms folded, as if he were carved from stone. Cora ignored him, pushing her way through the crowd of onlookers. The sun had climbed higher into the sky, and the temperature was beginning to rise. Victoria sighed at the thought of another sweltering day.

"I reckon I might need your help with these here Indians," Cora said.

"What do you mean?" Victoria asked. "I'm not exactly an expert on their culture. I'd never even seen an Indian before I arrived here."

"No," Cora admitted, "but you are an expert at sitting still and looking pretty."

"What does that have to do with anything?" Even before the question passed through her lips, she was dreading the answer.

Cora shot her a look. "You ain't as thick as all that. Woman your age, specially one as doll-faced as you is, ought to know by now just how to make a man go all weak in the knees with a smile or a wink."

"You expect me to be coy with them?"

"Damn straight I do. Ain't like I'm asking you to let them have a poke with you, so simmer down. All I need you to do is look sweet and scared, like you ain't got a hope in the world if they don't tell us everything they know about witches. Men plumb lose their wits when they think there's a pretty girl that needs their saving."

"What if they don't think I'm pretty?" Victoria asked. "For all I know, they may find blue eyes or blond hair repulsive."

"Maybe so," Cora said, "but there ain't no harm in trying."

"Save to my dignity," Victoria muttered.

When they arrived at the saloon, Cora pushed through the batwing doors. Robert glared at her from behind the bar. "Took you long enough."

"I reckon so," Cora said.

"Morgan didn't see the need to arrest you after all?"

Cora shook her head. "Just wanted my expertise on a case he's got brewing. Couldn't help him none, though, so I told him I'd send you over instead."

"Very funny," Robert said. "Are you going to mind the saloon now, or should I stand here all day?"

"You're welcome to," Cora replied. "Me and Vicky got business here with them Indian boys what drop by in the mornings, so you can stay and look after the other folk if you got a mind to."

Robert looked at her suspiciously. "What business do you have with Indians?"

"Ain't none of yours, that's what. If you ain't going to help, best you just get. I don't need you looking all prickly and scaring off the decent folk what come in for a little morning poker. Vicky's doing enough of that as it is."

Victoria gave her a scowl. "I beg your pardon?"

"See? There you go again. I swear I'm the only person here who ain't sat on a cactus this morning."

With that, Cora took up her usual place behind the bar. Robert twisted a rag around his fingers, his face alternating shades of red and white, but he didn't move. Victoria remained where she was for a moment, then sat down at the nearest unoccupied table. Her blisters wailed in agony. Despite the pain, she fought the impulse to pull off her boots and give them some relief. The sight of her bare, bleeding feet would probably undermine whatever charm Cora expected her to use on the two men they were expecting.

The thought still made her furious. What did she know about seducing men? Her parents hadn't raised her to be wanton, winking at every man that crossed her path. Perhaps she enjoyed the occasional attention she garnered from young men, but what of that? She still had her dignity. Even if she didn't, she knew she would only end up embarrassing herself. Heaven knew her riding clothes weren't exactly alluring, and what guarantee did she have that these two Indians would even be able to understand her? They could very well not speak English. A fine sight that would be.

The batwing doors creaked as two men entered. Victoria knew right away that they were the men Cora was expecting. Both had broad faces, raven-colored hair, and black eyes that seemed to spark in the smoky air. To her surprise, however, they wore denim pants and flannel button-up shirts. Red kerchiefs hung around their necks. She had expected them to come dressed in skins and face paint and feathers, like the stories she'd heard of such men, but they looked more at home in the saloon than she had when she first arrived. But for their long braids, they might have passed for dark-skinned Mexican cowboys.

After giving the room a brief glance, the Indians stepped up to the bar. Cora set a pair of glasses in front of them and pulled out a familiar jug. Victoria could feel the fire in the back of her own throat as she watched the brown liquid flow. The two men nodded their thanks and drained their glasses.

"You boys care for another?" Cora asked. "It's on the house."

Robert started to sputter a protest, but she silenced him with a look. The two men nodded. Cora refilled their glasses with a grin. "Drink on up."

They obliged. Cora watched the whiskey disappear down their throats, her grin widening. Behind her, Robert deflated with a shake of his head. He moved down to the other end of the bar and settled in to watch a game of poker.

"Say, you fellers got a minute?" Cora asked. "I was wondering if you might answer some questions I got for you."

The two men exchanged glances. "What questions?" one finally asked.

"Nothing incriminating," Cora said, holding up her hands in surrender. "I ain't looking to get you all in trouble or nothing. Wouldn't be no kind of business owner if I went around getting my own customers locked up, anyhow."

Another glance. "What questions?" the one repeated.

Cora nodded in Victoria's direction. "See that pretty little thing over there?" Two sets of black eyes settled on her. Victoria returned what she hoped was a shy-yet-inviting smile. "You might have seen her around town lately. She's got herself in a bit of a fix, and she done came to me for help. Sorry to say, but I ain't got the know-how necessary to help her out, but then I thought of you two fellers and figured you might be able to lend her a hand."

Their eyes lingered on her. Victoria willed herself not to squirm under their gaze. Instead, she raised her eyebrows in a hopeful expression, as if her life really did hang in the balance. Then again, maybe it did.

Faces betraying no hint of emotion, they sized her up for a minute longer before one of them - the one who had spoken earlier - finally nodded. "We will hear your questions," he said. His accent was thick, but it was not foreign to Victoria's ears: the Indian woman hunting her spoke in the same manner.