down at the lifeless head, its face still locked in a black-lipped snarl.
"So it's dead?" Duggan asked.
"I do believe," Cora said, poking at its cheek with the toe of her boot. Smoke still seeped from the holes in its forehead. "If it ain't, you'll need these." Cora pulled the remaining six rounds from her belt and held them out.
Duggan passed his rifle to Sanchez and cupped his hand as she poured the silver bullets into it. He rolled them around on his palm, watching them shimmer in the torchlight. "That's it, then?"
"Well, aside from the matter of our payment, yes," Cora said. She swung the Colt's cylinder open and dumped out the spent shells. They bounced off the wendigo's ribs in a series of clinks. She gave the revolver one more spin and handed it to the marshal.
"I reckon my riding the torch into this thing's face warrants us a discount," Duggan said.
"That was you, was it?" Cora asked. "Wish I'd known. I wouldn't have been so careful with my aim."
The marshal ignored the comment. "You looking to settle right this minute?"
"No, I reckon I've earned a little shut-eye," she said, stretching her arms toward the sky. "You could probably do with some yourself. How does tomorrow afternoon strike you?"
Duggan nodded and slid the empty revolver into his belt. Still holding the silver bullets in his hand, he took the rifle back from Sanchez. Together, they turned toward the station. Cora watched them go for a moment, then crouched down and looked into the wendigo's lifeless eyes. Now empty of the demon animating it, the face looked like any other frozen corpse. Were it not for the grotesque limbs, anyone would have mistaken it for the body of an old miner who froze to death on a mountainside. And they wouldn't be wrong.
Cora stood up and looked back at the two lawmen. "Hey!" she called out. They paused at the station door and turned back to her. "You should probably burn this thing before folks start waking up." Without waiting for a reply, she recovered her Winchester from the drift where the wendigo had thrown it and set off for the Northern Hotel.
After a short walk, she rounded a corner and came into view of the hotel. Ben's horse still stood tied to the hitching rail, snow covering its mane. The sight of the nameless creature made her realize that she was on foot. Cursing, she stopped in her tracks. Snow layered the brim of her hat as she debated with herself. She could almost feel the warmth of the big fire in the hotel's lobby and the bed in their room. Her bones ached from the cold, and she longed to warm them in a hot bath, but her horse was wandering through the cold streets somewhere, just waiting to be stolen.
Her sigh filled the air in front of her in a swirling cloud. She turned on her heel and started back the way she had come. A few lights gleamed in windows above her head, illuminating the shadows of worried citizens as they peered out into the night. They could all rest easy now. Tomorrow afternoon, she and Ben would board an eastbound train, stop by to thank Father Baez in Denver, and go wherever the mood took them. She clenched her aching hands into fists. After this, she figured the mood would call for someplace warm.
Lost in her thoughts, she rounded the corner and ran into something. Startled, she looked up. There stood Our Lady of Virginia, blowing steam from her nose. The mare seemed as startled as her owner. Cora grinned and took the reins in her gloved hand.
"Glad to see you came around," she said, leading her back toward the hotel. Our Lady tossed her head in reply. "Yeah, I know it's cold out. But, since you was such a good girl coming back, I reckon I'll bed you down myself tonight."
The mare didn't reply. They walked in silence through the falling snow until they reached the hotel. Cora untied Ben's horse from the hitching rail. The animal looked at her with sad eyes, cold and dejected.
"I know, boy," she said, patting his neck. "We wasn't expecting you to stand all by your lonesome for so long."
Keeping his reins in one hand, Cora climbed into Our Lady's saddle. Gently slapping the rawhide strips over the mare's neck, she started for the stable. Ben's horse, used to following Our Lady's lead, came without a fuss, his