Fe wouldn't be all that uncomfortable in the regular parts of Hell, and that ain't no kind of punishment. Maybe Lucifer made some part of his kingdom like Montana in the winter-time to put them off their feed."
"Could be," Ben said. "Still, you'd think the good Lord would've mentioned something like that if it was so."
"If the good Lord wanted us to be prepared for everything in life, He'd have put us in the womb with one of these." Cora picked up her Colt from the table, admiring the nickel shine in the lamplight. She wore her holster cross-style, the butt of the gun pointing toward her right arm from the front of her left hip. Every now and again, some pudding-headed cowboy would call her out for it, saying she carried like a Mexican whore instead of a proper white woman. Most of the time, she was too involved with a card game or a glass of whiskey to pay them much notice, but they'd sometimes catch her in a foul temper and end up in the street with a fresh bruise. If they were still sore about it, she'd challenge them to a shooting contest. Used to be that she could win a month's wages with a few rounds, but her reputation started calling ahead of her, turning the gunmen yellow about facing her. Not much of a loss, really. She and Ben were set for cash from the jobs they did, and the quiet left her more time for gambling. Hearsay still couldn't keep the occasional young buck from trying to make a name for himself by besting her in a match, though.
"I doubt even the Lord's rich enough to give every new baby a silver shooter," Ben said, picking up his book.
"Good thing He ain't, or we'd have to settle for regular work like tilling a farm or digging in a mountain somewhere."
Ben grunted in agreement. "Speaking of, did that marshal say anything useful?"
"Mentioned some feller named Bill Hicks. Said he was the one that told him and the deputy about the killings that morning. Seems this Hicks is one of those retired miner types, like old Jules Bartlett from a few years back."
"Which one was he?"
"He's the one that made Sheriff Jim Barnes jump out of his boots for fear of vampires last time we was through here."
"That's right," Ben said. His memory was sharp except when it came to names. "Took a liking to lurking around at night for his meat instead of during the day like most folk. Good thing he had himself that full beard, or you'd have shot him for a vampire anyway."
"Hunting at night ain't natural for any folk except the unnatural ones."
"You damn near pulled that beard off the poor ass when you dragged him in to the sheriff."
"Shouldn't have been about at that hour, plain and simple," Cora said with a small shrug. The revolver clicked as she turned the cylinder with her fingers. "He's damn lucky we found him before something else did. Never did thank us for that, now that I think about it."
"Thank us?" Ben raised an eyebrow as he looked at her. "He looked right ready to put his pick through your hat with your head still in it."
Cora could still see the miner's face, his eyes blazing above his gray beard as he stood next to her at the door of the sheriff's station. The sheriff himself was disheveled, having been roused from a good sleep by the pounding on his door. When he opened up, Cora had Jules Bartlett in one hand and the miner's big Henry rifle in the other. Marching past the bewildered lawman, she had set the rifle on the desk before propping the miner up like a prize stag.
Jules had balked when Cora told the sheriff she'd found his vampire, but Jim Barnes looked as though he couldn't decide whether to laugh or apologize. The miner's confusion turned to anger, and he'd demanded that Barnes arrest her for making sport of him. Cora had laughed at that notion, telling the old man that he was lucky she'd left Ben with the horses or he'd have laid him out for such talk. Both men flushed red, and Cora had left them to it after telling the sheriff she'd settle accounts with him the next morning.
"All the same, I reckon we should look him up and get our due gratitude," she said. "For all he knew, Barnes could have been