can still make them sprouts a sight poorer for it."
Ben smiled at her as he picked up his book. Cora smiled back, then rose to her feet with a groan. She lumbered down the stairs and out into the street. A soft gray light glowed from behind the thick mantle of clouds. Pulling her coat closed against the snowflakes drifting through the air, she made a new set of tracks in the fresh powder leading from the Northern Hotel down to the Pioneer.
The familiar aromas of the saloon greeted her as she pulled the door open. She blinked a few times, then took off her hat to shake off the snow. Surveying the room, she was disappointed to find only one promising table. She sighed, preparing to move over and claim a seat at it, when she saw Boots out of the corner of her eye.
"Howdy, Boots," she called. "I think you got something of mine."
The bartender turned toward her, his expression blank. "What might that be, Cora?"
"A full glass of rotgut, my good man," she replied, grinning. Boots didn't return the grin as he shuffled into the back room. Cora waved her hand in dismissal and made her way over to the card game. She dropped into an empty chair to a chorus of mumbled howdies from the other players.
"Cut me in, boys," she said.
An older miner with a full salt-and-pepper beard nodded. "Soon as we finish this hand."
Cora nodded and settled in to watch. It was a small game, only four players. The man who had spoken to her seemed to be the oldest as well as the dealer. Two younger men, their mustaches still thin and dark, sat on either side of him. The fourth player wore a well-trimmed, sandycolored beard that he stroked as he looked at his cards. He spoke in a quiet voice when making bids, and he didn't join in the conversation with the other three. His sharp blue eyes flashed at Cora from beneath the brim of his hat.
The hand finished with the quiet man scooping his winnings into his pile. Cards flew around the table. Cora picked hers up and was trying to make sense of them when Boots appeared over her shoulder, drink in hand.
"Took you long enough," she said, taking the glass.
"My apologies, Cora," Boots said with a slight bow. He turned and marched back to the bar, the polish on his boots reflecting the flames in the big fireplace.
"Who jammed a boot up his ass?" Cora asked.
"He ain't been the same since the other night," the dealer replied. "The attack has him all shook up, I reckon."
"Ain't nobody who ain't," one of the younger miners said.
"Hell, I ain't," the other replied.
"Then you're a damn fool," the blue-eyed stranger said, his eyes still on Cora. "I got a notion that Cora here ain't scared, though."
"How'd you know my name, stranger?" she asked, taking a gulp of whiskey.
"Heard the barkeep say it twice now," he said.
"Mind sharing yours, then?"
"Washington Jones is my proper name," the man replied. "Most around here call me Wash."
"What's your line of work, Mr Jones?"
"Rather dull compared to yours, I reckon," Wash said.
Cora gave him a hard look. "What do you mean by that?"
"Word travels fast out here." Wash tossed a few coins into the pot. "Most of these miners is too crusty to poke their heads up above ground long enough to hear rumors of the world outside, but I like to keep my ear to the ground, and she tells me you're a bounty hunter and a loon besides."
"I reckon I'm enough of both, but can't say neither is spot on," Cora said. "I'm in for ten."
The other men anted up. "So there ain't any truth to the tales of the Mad Madam?" Wash asked.
"Well," she said, unfazed by the nickname, "as I said, I'm a good sight crazier than some, but I ain't fit to be tied yet, neither."
"Hunting bounties ain't really a woman's work."
"Can't say that ever bothered me." She drained her glass and set it down with a thunk. "My ma always said I wasn't no proper lady. As for that Mad Madam bit, I ain't got no say in what folk take to calling me."
"They ain't exactly playing on your good points."
"Ain't too many good points to play on." She leaned forward and showed her hand: three queens. The others tossed their cards on the table as she swept the take into a pile of her own. She handed her