A flash of orange light caught the monster's attention, and its eyes left the deputy's frightened face. In that moment, Jack heard the most welcome sound he could have imagined: the roar of Mart Duggan's voice.
"Back, you devil, or I'll set a fire in your hide!"
The black fingers let go of Jack's leg, and the deputy landed head-first on the packed snow. Stunned, he lay still as the world pitched around him in a swirl of black and orange.
Mart Duggan stepped over the fallen form of his deputy, a burning branch in each hand. He waved them in the creature's face, the flames brilliant against the night. The monster reeled backward with a loud wail. It beat at the fire with its long hands, but the marshal kept the branches just out of its reach. Duggan advanced, flames crackling, and pressed it back into the night. Finally, the creature turned and loped down the street, its long legs disappearing into the shadows.
Duggan stared after it for a moment, branches held high. With a final shout of triumph, he lowered the flames and turned back to his fallen deputy. The marshal prodded Jack with a boot until he rose to his feet.
"Where's Murray?" Duggan asked.
Jack opened his mouth, but the words didn't come. He could only look at the splattered blood and crushed bones that had once belonged to Deputy Murray. Duggan followed his gaze, then lowered his eyes to his boots. Only a handful of decent men called Leadville home, and George Murray had been one of them. The marshal swallowed the hard lump in his throat and whispered a prayer for his fallen man.
"Well, can't be helped now," he said aloud. "At least he don't have a wife or kids to give the bad news to."
Jack nodded. A man had just been eaten before his eyes, and he'd have followed in like kind had the marshal not returned when he did. His hands trembled, but he didn't have the wits to put them on his hips. Instead, he just looked at the bloody snow around them, thinking back to the clearing and wondering what those wolfers had felt in their last minutes.
"Well, come on, son," Duggan said, handing him a flaming branch. "We best make sure that thing has run off for good."
Jack took the branch from the marshal. It shook in his hand as he stared into the flames. That woman had said the creature was scared of silver and fire, but he'd forgotten. If the marshal hadn't remembered, it would have torn both of them apart. He could still see that gaping mouth and feel the icy breath on his face. Taking a deep breath, he tried to pull himself together enough to meet Duggan's eyes. "What in God's creation was that, sir?"
SIX
"A wendigo."
"Wendigo?" Cora's brow furrowed. "Can't say as I've ever heard of one of them before."
"Neither have I," Father Baez said, his hands folded in his lap. "Apparently, they are quite rare in these parts. A priest in Boston, Father Davidson, was the one to find the information we were looking for."
Cora leaned back in the pew, wishing Ben could have been here to hear this. She had kept her word to Father Baez and returned to the church the following evening, but Ben hadn't followed. He had chosen to spend the time in the library near their hotel. His decision irritated her, but it wasn't a surprise. He'd always been the bookish type, shy and quiet, not at all suited to the military life that the war had forced on him. Duty was duty, though, so he'd marched off with his gray coat on his shoulders and a rifle in his hand. His engagement ring had been around her finger as she watched him go, his promise to return still echoing in her ears. That ring had gone with her to the local church every day during those four long years. She had lit a candle and knelt beside other women, both young and old, as they prayed for sweethearts and husbands and sons. As the years passed, their numbers dwindled. Some received word of the worst kind and lost the will to keep praying. Others just gave up hope, but Cora kept her faithful vigil. Each time a gray-coated rider appeared in town, Cora's breath would catch in her throat, but they would always ride past her door. Her heart had ached to see so many faces hidden