She Returns From War (11 page)

Cora's laughter rolled back at them from a nearby hill. "I don't reckon we've ever seen one of those around these parts. Here, it's either parched or flooding, and nothing in between."

"Really?" Victoria asked, looking at the withered plants surrounding them. "It doesn't look to me as though these plants have ever seen so much as a sprinkle, much less a flood."

"Just you wait," Cora said. "You're about to see the sky boil up all angry and menacing in half the time it takes you to blink. When it does, we'd best be close to this ranch of yours, or the going will get a good sight harder."

Victoria squinted into the sunlight. They stood on a small hill that spilled down into a wide plain before them. In the distance, she could see rust-colored cliffs rising from the desert floor to form the sides of a small mesa. The shape of it looked vaguely familiar, but she couldn't be sure if she'd actually seen it before or if it just looked like one of the countless others they'd ridden past. "I do think we're getting closer."

Another laugh. "We'd best be, Vicky. If you've been playing me for a fool, we'll find out just how good you are with that shiny new gun of yours."

"A fine test that would be," Victoria answered. "You know I've never fired a gun in my life."

"Time to change that, I reckon," Cora said. She pulled her own revolver from its holster. The sun glinted on the nickel finish. "Go on, draw."

Victoria gently wrapped her fingers around the wood grip of her gun. Taking a breath, she slid it from its leather cradle. Cora had picked it out specifically for her back in Albuquerque, saying it was best suited for a fine lady. Except for its new, unused polish and shine, it looked exactly like Cora's revolver, which she called a Colt .38. Victoria knew the number had something to do with the bullets, but she wasn't sure what.

"Glad to see you can do that much," Cora said, "though I'd try to do it without wincing next time if I was you."

"I don't want it to go off before I'm ready is all," Victoria said.

"No worry about that unless you get your fine lady fingers on the trigger," Cora replied. "These here guns are good quality. So long as you treat them right, they ain't never going to let you down." She urged her mare forward, beckoning for Victoria to follow. "Come on, now. Ain't no reason you can't learn to ride and shoot at the same time."

Reluctantly, Victoria gave her gelding a punch with her heels. Her stomach twisted inside her, feeling like it was going to jump out of her mouth at any moment. She swallowed. No need to worry. If this rustic, uneducated woman could master the use of guns, so could she. One of her grandfathers had served in the Royal Navy, hunting pirates far and wide. She had the blood of a soldier in her veins; firing a gun would soon become second nature.

"Now, then," Cora said, "I reckon even a fine lady is familiar with the simple idea of a gun, right? You just point it at something and pull the trigger?"

"Yes."

"Good. Means we can go on to the finer bits of it. First off, you got to pick something you think would be better with a few more holes in it." Cora pointed at a large bush ahead of them on her right. "There, now, that looks like it might be trouble if we don't see to it first, don't it?"

"I suppose, yes," Victoria replied.

"Once you've got your target, all you got to do is point the gun, pull back the hammer, and squeeze the trigger. It's best if you try to aim a bit first, though. No good wasting bullets if you ain't got to, especially the ones we shoot." Cora leveled her arm at the bush. "Aiming's best if you close one eye and line up the sight over your varmint. Once you got your shot lined up, pull back the hammer." She demonstrated. "This is about as far as you get when aiming at most folk. Even them as call themselves outlaws will go all watery in the legs when you got a bead on them. Real outlaws and monsters, well, they're a different story."

"Have you ever shot another human?" Victoria asked.

"You bet your bonnet I has," Cora said. "Back in my younger days, me and Ben would fall afoul with bandits every now and again. Some we knew, some we didn't, but it don't matter none when the other feller's sending lead your way. So we shot back, killed a handful, and the rest tucked tail."

"Who's Ben?"

Cora's gun arm drooped. She looked down at Our Lady of Virginia without replying. Victoria watched her, suddenly anxious, the revolver in her hand forgotten. The silence stretched out like the desert around them. In the distance, some animal let out a high-pitched cry, and Victoria's gelding tossed his head.

"My late husband," Cora finally said.

Victoria felt a tug of pity for the old gunfighter. "I'm sorry. How did he die?"

"Ain't none of your business is how," Cora said. Without warning, she brought her Colt back up and fired. The gunshot jolted Victoria from head to toe and stuffed her ears with cotton. The gelding whinnied in alarm.

Cora spurred Our Lady into a trot, putting several yards between them. "There now," she called over her shoulder, "you give it a try."

Victoria remembered the revolver in her hand. She squeezed the grip against her palm and lifted it. It wasn't as big as some of the ones she'd seen the men in Albuquerque carry, but it was still heavy for its size. Holding it out at arm's length made it difficult to keep the barrel raised. Gritting her teeth, she closed one eye and looked down the gun at the bush Cora had picked out. The metal nub at the end of the barrel wavered in her hand. She forced it to hold still while she pulled the hammer back. The cylinder rotated with a soft click.

Now for the moment of reckoning.

Closing her eyes, she pulled the trigger. The Colt stung her fingers as it jolted in her hand, but she kept her hold on it. Her horse broke into a run, nearly throwing her backward out of the saddle. Her free hand wrapped around the saddle horn before she could open her eyes. Instinct took over, and she crouched low in the saddle, bending low over the gelding's grey mane. Her balance restored, she gripped the animal between her knees and released her hold on the saddle horn. The reins bounced along the horse's neck. She grabbed them with her free hand and began pulling backward, easing the gelding out of his frightened run.

As they slowed to a trot, the thunder of the gelding's hooves was replaced by rasping echoes of laughter. Turning her grey back toward the hunter, Victoria frowned. "I hardly see what's so amusing," she called to her companion.

"Just been a good long while since I rode with a greenhorn is all," Cora replied. "I plumb forget how funny you lot can be."

"I think I performed rather well, all things considered," Victoria said, sitting up straight. "After all, I completed the lesson and managed to keep my seat."

"You ain't no stranger to riding, I'll give you that," Cora said, suppressing another chuckle. "Still, a display like that ain't going to do you any favors in a firefight. Can't go spooking your horse with every shot."

"What do you suggest I do, then?" Victoria asked. "Tell the dumb beast I'm about to fire a gun and that it might want to brace itself?"

"Might work. Might also try making friends with him." Cora patted her mare's neck. "Me and Our Lady been riding together for well over ten years now. I trust her more than any other creature on God's green earth, animal and human both. We've pulled each other out of more scrapes than I can recollect. She knows I wouldn't never do a thing to put her in danger unless it was necessary, so she don't bat an eye when she feels me setting up to shoot."

Victoria grimaced. "You expect me to befriend an animal?"

Cora urged Our Lady forward until the two women were no more than three feet apart. "What, that don't sit well with you?" Reading Victoria's expression, she shook her head. "You ain't going to last out here, kid."

"I am not a child."

"No, you ain't," Cora said. "Even kids know how much rides on the backs of horses in these parts, and it ain't just your pretty little rump. Horses are the difference between life and death out here. You got a good one under you, you got a good chance of surviving most everything this desert can throw at you. Sun, coyotes, thirst...all of them's easier to deal with if you're mounted right. That's why they ain't cheap. That pretty grey cost you a bundle, didn't he?"

"Yes," Victoria admitted. "A full one hundred and fifty of your dollars."

"One hundred fifty," Cora repeated. "That's more than a schoolteacher would see in two years of teaching. Maybe them as own a railroad or two wouldn't bat an eye at that, but most folk can't buy a horse all easy-like the way you done."

"I'll spend my money how I see fit," Victoria said.

"Ain't my point. Point is, you'd best make friends with that critter under you. He's apt to save your life if you do. If you don't, he'll throw you sooner or later."

"I never bothered to befriend any of the horses I rode as a girl, and they didn't throw me off."

"But was you shooting guns at other folk shooting back?" Victoria shook her head. "There you go, then. Them horses you rode before didn't need to trust you none."

"But this one does?"

Cora nodded emphatically. "Now you're catching on. Put it another way: how do you reckon you'd get back to town if you didn't have a horse?"

"If I didn't have a horse," Victoria said, "I wouldn't have left town in the first place."

"Well, ain't you the clever one," Cora said. "Silly me trying to teach a fancy lady anything, seeing as how I ain't book-learned."

Before Victoria could reply, Cora put her heels to her horse. Our Lady eased into a healthy gallop in the space of a few seconds. Soon, both horse and rider disappeared into the dust clouds they stirred up, leaving Victoria alone on the hillside.

Turning her own horse to follow, Victoria urged him into a trot. The headless hare bounced against her leg. Overhead, the shape of a bird circled, black against the blue sky.

How could she befriend a horse? Even if she felt so inclined, it wasn't as though she'd brought apples or sugar along in her saddlebags. Cora's list of supplies included salted beef, a flavorless sort of biscuit she called hardtack, and sacks of oats for the horses. Tough food for a tough land, she'd said in the general store. Tough food wouldn't win a horse's love, though; even Victoria knew that. She'd seen her father's grooms tending to the horses, watched how they'd slip the animals apple slices while brushing them down at night. A silly thing to do, or so she'd thought then.

Did she really need to bother with such things, even now? She was familiar enough with the animals to know that this one wasn't scared of her. When she'd fired her gun, the horse had spooked and bolted, but it hadn't thrown her. Besides, she planned on keeping the animal just long enough to help Cora hunt down the blue-eyed man, the one calling himself Fodor Glava. Once they were done, she would sell it back to the Albuquerque livery and leave this God-forsaken desert behind her. She would return to Oxford with its proper laws, proper dress, and proper baths.

The thought made her smile. Punching her heels into the gelding, she bent low over his neck and galloped down the hill after Cora.

SEVEN

"This it, then?"

Victoria nodded. Thunder growled overhead. The line of clouds that had seemed so distant from the ridge had grown into an angry wall that blocked out the setting sun. No rain fell yet, but Victoria could see it was only a matter of time. In that premature twilight, they had finally come upon the ranch. The buildings were dwarfed by the cliffs rising toward the sky behind them. Victoria felt a strange sense of vertigo, but whether it was from the towering mesa or returning to the site of her harrowing ordeal two nights prior, she didn't know.

"You got yourself a head for directions, Vicky. I'll give you that."

Victoria took the compliment in silence. All she had done was strike out in the same direction she'd seen the blue-eyed man leave in when he deposited her outside of Albuquerque. Such a simple task didn't seem worthy of praise, but she wouldn't deny it, either.

"Well, at least it ain't one of them Indian ruins. Nasty places if half the yarns about them are true."

"Haven't you visited them yourself?" Victoria asked. "I would think that sort of thing would be of great interest to you."

"Just never got around to it is all," Cora said.

The two women nudged their mounts into a slow walk. In the veiled sunlight, the ranch didn't look half as terrifying. The barn was missing a few shingles from its roof and could have done with a fresh coat of paint. Rust stains ran along the wind pump's legs like gangrenous veins, and the house looked as though nobody had gone in or out since her encounter. It was more a scene of sorrow over failed ambition, left behind by the homesteaders whose bid for a new life had come up short. She had difficulty imagining it as a monster's lair, but even so, she examined every corner and every shadow as they approached.

Beside her, Cora was just as watchful, her alertness underscored by the rifle in her hands. She didn't have it propped against her shoulder, ready to fire at the slightest hint of movement, but its presence gave Victoria a measure of comfort.

Victoria explained the details of her encounter to the old hunter as they approached. Cora listened attentively, even as her eyes remained on the silent buildings before them. She asked a few questions, mostly about the man. How tall was he? What did he look like? How did he speak? Victoria answered as best she could, but she grew more uneasy as the line of questions continued. That Cora's attention was centered on the man worried her. The woman was the more dangerous of the two, she felt, but Cora seemed uninterested in her. Even the savage ghoul provoked more questions than the Indian woman did.

Another rumbling of thunder, this one louder. Cora glanced skyward. "Ain't got much time," she said. Reaching into her satchel, she pulled out a rosary and slid it around her left wrist. "Let's check the barn first."

Victoria nodded. She considered pulling her own gun, then thought better of it. Dismounting with it in one hand would probably be dangerous. Best to wait until they were on foot.

No sooner had she decided this than Cora cradled her rifle in the crook of one arm and climbed out of the saddle. Tying the reins to a fence post, she looked up at Victoria expectantly. The younger woman took her time dismounting. Her eyes began searching the area in earnest. Being mounted had given her a feeling of security; if things went wrong, she felt sure her horse could outrun the threat. Without that assurance, she felt exposed and vulnerable.

"Don't dally, now," Cora said, tying the gelding's reins off for her. "Rain ain't going to wait for you to fluff your skirts. Draw your gun and let's get on."

Victoria adjusted her hat to hide her blush and drew her revolver. "What's the plan?"

"Well, from what you said, I reckon we're looking at a vampire nest," Cora replied. "Ain't sure how many suckers there are, though there's bound to be at least two. One of them's the feller what calls himself Glava. He's the more dangerous of them, so don't you go getting it in your head that you can whip him by your lonesome." Cora snapped her fingers as a thought hit her. "Plumb forgot. Here, hold this and give me your gun."

Cora shoved her rifle at Victoria with one hand and held out her other palm. Victoria handed over her revolver. Taking the rifle from the hunter, she marveled at its weight. The barrel must have been ten pounds at least. She had to hold it with both hands, and she wasn't sure if she could shoot it even if she had to. Curious, she pressed the butt up against her shoulder like she'd seen Cora do. Her arm shook under the barrel's weight as she aimed at a fence post across the yard, and she had to lower it after only a few seconds.

"Careful there," Cora said. "You might go and blow your own foot off."

Victoria let out a nervous laugh. "Not much chance of that," she said.

"You an expert on guns now, too?"

"Hardly." Victoria held the rifle in both hands again, her fingers well away from the trigger.

"Well, here's another lesson, then," Cora said, handing the revolver back. Victoria gladly traded weapons. "I've put some of my silver bullets in your gun. They're the only kind that can kill vampires, you follow?"

"Not really, but I believe you."

Cora nodded in satisfaction. "Good to know you ain't a complete fool. Now, even with the silver rounds, you ain't going to kill a sucker if you just shoot it in the arm or somewhere like that. You got to hit them in the head or the heart. I know you ain't big on aiming yet, but try your best. You might get lucky, and luck's half of survival in this business."

"That isn't very reassuring."

"Well, these ain't normal critters," Cora said. "Don't fret about it too much. Just shoot at them if they pop their ugly faces out. Even if you only nick one, it still might slow it down some. Enough for me to get a bead on it anyway. Oh, and use this." She produced a small wooden crucifix from her satchel. "This here will make them go all watery and buy you some time for shooting or running or hollering."

Victoria ran her thumb over the carved image. "Why do they fear crucifixes?"

"Ain't rightly sure, myself," Cora said. "I always figured it was just that crucifixes are holy and suckers ain't. Don't need to know much more than that, really."

"Even after all of your experience?"

Cora pumped the action of her Winchester. "Ain't just vampires I hunted. They popped up every now and again, but they ain't really all that common. Had more run-ins with hellhounds during my time."

"Hellhounds?" Victoria asked, her curiosity suddenly piqued. Maybe that was the name of the black shuck in America. "What are those?"

"Some other time," Cora said.

"But-"

The hunter put a finger to her lips and frowned as she approached the barn. Crouching by the door, Cora waved Victoria over. The young woman hunkered down next to her, careful to keep her revolver pointed away.

"Right," Cora said in a low voice. "This is where you said they had you?" Victoria nodded. "Good. Now, if they're around here still, they probably know we're here. Hard to creep up on critters with sharp ears."

"What will we do, then?" Victoria asked.

"Surprise ain't an option, so we go for storm."

Victoria glanced skyward. "Storm?"

"Not that kind," Cora said. "We'd best be done with this business when them clouds decides to dump on us. What I mean is, we go in sudden-like, try to shake them up."

Victoria swallowed. The man who called himself Fodor Glava didn't seem like the kind to startle easily, and she wasn't sure that slavering man-creature could even feel fear. Still, neither of those were her biggest concern. "What about the Indian woman?"

"She ain't a worry," Cora said.

"Are you sure?" Victoria asked. "She seemed to have a power over the other man."

Cora shook her head. "Ain't likely. You probably just didn't know what was going on. This Fodor Glava feller is one of them king vampires George knows about. Nossy-something. Anyhow, they got control over the other kind of vampires, so I'll warrant he's master of that squaw you saw, too."

The old hunter's reasoning didn't sit well with Victoria. She knew what she had seen: the man had submitted to the woman's will, and more than once. Still, Cora knew more about these matters than she did, so maybe there was something else at work. Victoria tried to set aside her misgivings.

"I'll charge in first, and you follow," Cora was saying. "Keep an eye on our rear in case the bastard has an ace in his palm."

Victoria nodded. Cora offered her a lopsided grin as she rose to her feet. The hunter's brown eyes scanned the yard once more before she turned toward the barn door.

A yell burst forth from Cora's lungs. She ran into the barn's interior and halted a few steps inside, rifle raised. The rosary hung from her left wrist, whipping back and forth as she swept the Winchester's barrel over the grey shadows. Nothing jumped out at her.

Victoria stood, her blisters throbbing in protest. The yard remained empty. Wind kicked through the tall grass growing along the fence. Crucifix and gun pointed outward, she slowly backed through the open doorway. The daylight became a blue square surrounded by darkness. Fear began working crawling up her sides, making its way toward her throat. The terror and confusion of that night still lingered in the barn. Phantom eyes of red and blue drifted through her peripheral vision only to vanish when she turned her head. In her mounting panic, she nearly pulled the trigger half a dozen times.

She shook her head. No, she was stronger than this. If the woman at her back, rustic and uneducated, could barge into a nest of monsters without hesitation, so could she. After all, she was her father's daughter and descended from Navy sailors. Her grandfather had faced down pirate ships; she could handle one old barn.

Behind her, she heard Cora's steadily advancing footsteps. Victoria clung to that sound, a spire of rock in the rising ocean of her fears. With every step, every tinkling of the old hunter's spurs, Victoria's panic subsided.

"Hey!" Cora's shout shattered Victoria's nerves. "You in here, you bastard?"

"By God," Victoria said, "you scared the life out of me."

The hunter lowered her rifle. "You're the only one, I reckon. Ain't nothing here."

"Are you sure?"

"Sure as I can be," Cora replied. "If that feller is here, he's keen on keeping to himself." She looked above them. "Could be he's up there somewhere sleeping."

"Sleeping?" Victoria asked. "Who could sleep through a shout like that?"

"A sucker," Cora said. "They like to sleep during the day. Why don't you shimmy on up that ladder over there and have a look?"

Victoria's eyes went wide. "What?"

"You heard me. I'll keep an eye out down here."

"And what should I do if I find something?"

Cora shrugged. "I say shoot it. If you come up with something better, go with that."

"You can't be serious," Victoria said. "You could very well be sending me to my death."

"Not much chance of that," Cora said. "I don't reckon much of anything is up there except hay, and these old bones ain't up to climbing a ladder unless they got a damn good reason. If you do happen across a sleeping monster, I reckon even you couldn't miss. Now go on and get yourself up there."

The hunter turned toward the door, rifle at the ready. Victoria almost tapped her on the shoulder to refuse, then thought better of it. Cora obviously didn't think there was any danger, or she would have gone up herself. Victoria wasn't foolish enough to believe that it would have been because of any motherly protectiveness. The old hunter held Victoria and her abilities in contempt, so in her mind, sending her to investigate a real threat would have been useless.

Time to prove her wrong, then. Victoria strode toward the ladder Cora had pointed out. Holding the crucifix lightly between her teeth, she gripped a rung with her free hand and began climbing.

It was slow going. She had never climbed a ladder onehanded before, and she was already tired from the day's ride. Maybe something was up there after all, and Cora really hadn't wanted to make the climb. With each rung, that possibility seemed more and more likely, but Victoria would not be outdone. Grumbling to herself, she continued to move up toward the barn loft.

Near the top, she paused when a thought struck her. Suppose there really was a vampire in the loft? Would Cora be able to climb up quickly enough to help? Would she even bother? She already had everything she needed: the location of the man called Fodor Glava. Maybe she would just abandon Victoria to her fate now to save herself the trip to England. Victoria stole a quick glance toward the ground. The old hunter still stood guard in front of the door, but for how long?

Still, Victoria had no choice: it was either check the loft or climb back down and accuse Cora of treachery to her face. She had better odds of surviving a vampire.

The ladder brought her through the hole in the loft floor. Victoria paused when she reached it, taking a look around. A single window admitted a stream of grey light into the interior, illuminating bales of hay that were strewn about in no apparent order. In the semi-dark, they looked like a herd of squarish beasts sleeping away the day.

After a few moments passed with no visible movement, Victoria finished the climb and cautiously stepped off the ladder. Her footsteps sounded hollow on the boards, and she forced herself not to think about the expanse of nothing beneath her. It would only make her giddy, and she needed all of her wits if there was anything up here. Taking the crucifix back into her left hand, she began exploring the loft.