The Dead of Winter - By Lee Collins Page 0,6

this," she said.

Ben came over to inspect the branch. After a few moments, he nodded to himself. "Something broke this off, and it wasn't no snowfall. Limb's too thick for that." Looking back up at the bird, he took an estimate of the height, then looked back toward the clearing. Smiling, he nodded again. "I reckon our killer was perched right up there, just waiting for those poor fools to wander too close."

Cora crouched down, turning the broken branch this way and that. "Sure didn't leave much by way of sign. Ain't no claw marks or hairs or nothing."

"Guess that means it wasn't no werewolf or hellhound," Ben said.

"That's too bad," Cora said. "I was hoping for something easy. All them dog monsters is alike: line them up and put them down. Hellhounds is our specialty, besides. How many have we bagged in all?"

"Half a dozen, I reckon."

"Well, we ain't adding to that count today." Straightening up, Cora made to brush her gloves on her coat when a white blob splattered on the branch in front of her. Startled, she took a step backward. The crow let out a satisfied croak, which she answered with a glare. Her hand dropped to her revolver when the bird took wing in a flurry of black. Her heart sank a little as she watched it disappear into the trees.

"We ain't killing nothing at this rate," Ben said, a smile spreading beneath his trim mustache. "You're too old and slow."

Cora glared at him. "I've bagged me more than my share of critters, thank you kindly."

"Guess we're lucky none of them was evil birds." He dodged the punch she aimed at him, his blue eyes sparkling.

"Well, fine," Cora said, crossing her arms. "We got us an escaped crow and a broken branch with no good reason for being broken. Ain't much to go on, but we've made do with less." Her brown eyes swept over the clearing once more, then she nodded. "Let's get on back to town."

Ben followed her back to the horses without a word. Our Lady whinnied as they approached, stretching her neck out for a pat. Cora obliged her and was rewarded with a snort of hot, moist air. She smiled, running her hand down the horse's mane before slipping the Winchester back into the saddle scabbard. She placed her boot in the stirrup and swung herself up. Our Lady tossed her head and nickered, but Cora didn't share her enthusiasm.

"What do you reckon that prickly marshal will have to say when we tell him we ain't got nothing?" she asked.

Ben sighed through his nose. "Five dollars says he'll run us out of town."

"I'll make it ten."

"Think we still ought to find this critter even if he does?"

Cora shook her head. "He can rot along with his little town," she said. "He's already wasted a week of our time. We ought to head for Carson City or somewhere without all this damn snow."

Cora pulled on the reins, turning Our Lady away from the clearing. They trotted through the trees until they reached the meadow. Squinting against the blinding glare of the sun, it took her a few moments to spot the mountain Marshal Duggan had pointed out to her. She finally picked it out, its peak thrusting toward the blue sky like a crooked gunsight. Mount Something-or-Other, her guide back to the silver boom town of Leadville, Colorado.

Pulling her bandana over her nose, she lifted her boots on either side of Our Lady to give her a kick when she paused. Her breath warmed her face and neck, but she could feel a chill creeping into her fingers through her gloves. She glanced skyward and held her hands out beneath the sun. Clenching her fists a few times, she tried to drive the cold out, but it persisted. She could feel it flowing up toward her elbows. Her fingers became hard to move, a feeling which always gave her a slight panic. Cold fingers meant a slow draw and a slow trigger, and neither was good for staying alive.

Ben rode up beside her. "What's wrong?"

Cora held up her hand, and he fell silent. She pulled the Colt revolver from her belt and cocked the hammer. Turning her head, she looked back into the mess of evergreens. The sunlight still fell in patches through gaps in the branches. Nothing looked out of the ordinary, but the chill in her blood kept moving. It was past her elbows now, working its way up

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