at the ugly stain, thinking of the silver that mine would produce, silver that she could use for bullets. Silver that had once been part of a holy relic or symbol was more effective against Hells' minions – it made a priest's blessings that much more potent – but any silver would do in a pinch.
The trail continued to wind its way around the mountain's base. Through the trees, Cora could see what seemed like a thousand snowy peaks reaching toward the afternoon sun. The sight made her head swim, and she soon found the saddle horn in front of her a much more comforting view. Our Lady was content to find her own way up the slope, snow crunching beneath her hooves.
Once, a stray limb reached out for Cora from a nearby tree, its branches groping toward her like a skeletal hand. Her eyes were still fixed on the saddle horn when the branch brushed against her coat and neck, and she jumped at the touch. Her right hand had already pulled away the leather flap that held her Colt in place before she realized what had scratched her. Looking back at the tree, she gave it a deep scowl. She hated to leave it unharmed for such an offense, but the mare's steady pace had already put it out of reach.
After a while, her thoughts returned to Jules Bartlett. Despite the hostility the old miner probably still harbored toward her, Cora wasn't worried about paying him a visit. Age had taken the best part of his strength, leaving him with bony arms and legs. She figured he had spent his youth in California during the big gold rush they'd had back in the early fifties. His beard had been big and brown beneath his floppy hat then. She pictured him sticking his hands into the freezing runoff in some mountain stream, a stubborn set to his jaw as he filled his pan with mud. No gun, no horse, not even a pick to his name. He was just a sprout looking to make himself a fortune and go on to live a fancy life down in San Francisco.
Perched on a rocky outcropping above her head, the miner's cabin crept into view. Cora studied it as Our Lady continued her way up the path. The walls were built of the pine trunks that had once stood on the ledge, lashed into place by old Jules himself. As they rounded the final switchback and made for the cabin, she could see crooked shingles on the cabin's roof. They looked as though he'd cut them from tree bark but hadn't sealed them against the weather. Tanned hides hung inside the window by the door.
Jules had put in a small hitching rail outside his door, though Cora couldn't imagine him entertaining many visitors. It wasn't a fancy one, at any rate: a small log suspended crossways over two upright logs. She guided Our Lady up to it, dismounted, tied the reins off, and made her way to the cabin's door. The string was out, but she was feeling polite, so she knocked. A few moments passed as Cora listened to the mare working the bit in her mouth. Shifting her weight toward the door, she knocked again. Still nothing.
"Well, ain't that odd?" she asked the horse. "Seems old Jules took himself for a walk. Or maybe he's drank himself into a stupor."
Her patience gone, she pulled at the string and eased the door open. It groaned, making a racket in the still mountain air. If Jules hadn't heard her knocking, though, he wouldn't be roused by a creaking door.
The inside of the cabin was dark. Sunlight streaming through the open door gave her light enough to make out the shapes of the miner's furnishings. She propped the door with a stone so it wouldn't close on her and stepped inside. Snow crumbled from her boots onto the wooden floor as she looked around the small enclosure.
There wasn't much to see. An oil lamp hung from a central rafter, dark stains running down its sides. Jules had propped his bed up in one of the far corners, the mattress nothing more than a shapeless bag. An icebox sat in another corner near the fireplace. Several charred logs lay among the ashes. Removing a glove, Cora knelt down and felt one of them. It was long cold.
She pulled open the icebox and looked inside. Nothing but snow and a few strips of what appeared